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euaphoric · 10 months

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“i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.”

## pairing — haechan x f!reader / strangers to lovers ? ft. other nct members!

## warnings — smut, light angst, fluff, drinking/scenes involving alcohol, a whole lotta nasty stuff, approximately 3.3k words. did i base some of the conflict on real life events? possiblyyy.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

per usual, it was another weekend filled with back to back partying and going out. jaemin (your new boytoy for now) invited you out tonight so you pull up to the function wearing your sexiest little black dress, making all the heads turn soon as you walk in the club. even jaemin’s friends were eyeing you, they were all pretty hot too which didn’t make the situation any easier. it was your first time meeting all of them properly, you only really spoke to them through quick interactions between you coming and going out of jaemin’s room. they all knew you had a thing going on so they did their best to try and respect that.

“hey, you must be y/n right? i’m taeyong, i don’t think we’ve formally introduced ourselves. it’s nice finally talking to you!” a blonde man comes up to you, reaching his hand out for you to take. you happily accept and shook his hand, “yes, it’s so nice meeting you too!” all of the guys seemed really friendly, especially mark, he can get pretty handsy when there’s a bit of alcohol in his system. “oh so this is the girl i’ve been hearing all about?” mark stumbles his way over to you, already feeling drunk off a couple shots. “nice to meet ya, i’m mark!” you try and go for a handshake like you did previously with taeyong but that wasn’t his style. “pfftt, don’t try that with me, we hug around here!” he pulls you into a giant bear hug, almost embracing you like a longtime friend he’s known for years. you gave him a questionable look, wondering what kinds of things jaemin says about you to his friends. hopefully it was nothing too detailed or invasive, in which that case you’d be heated if he spilled all the tea about your sex lives.

“care to elaborate on what you heard about me…?” you ask skeptically, wondering if it’s something actually worth your time. “i mean.. nah, i probably shouldn’t— it’s like against bro code to disclose top secret info like that!” he recants, not wanting to be the main source of why you might get angry with jaemin. sigh, as much as you wanted to keep prying mark with more questions your vision gets blocked by jaemin who quite literally comes out of nowhere with another shot. “mark hyung i think that’s enough chitchatting for now, just keep drinking and dancing!” he proceeds to hand mark the glass filled with mystery liquid, mark gulped it down instantly and even asked for another. this was definitely gonna be a night full of catastrophic fun. well hopefully. you didn’t drink much so it felt nice being one of the only semi-sober people of the bunch, the club was pretty packed but you were on the upstairs level and near the outdoor patio which had a gorgeous view of the skyline. the DJ tonight was pretty decent too, he played most songs you knew and liked which was rare nowadays. you didn’t need lots of alcohol to let loose and have fun so you make your way to the dance floor with jaemin but not even 5 mins later he runs into a familiar face. “jaemin is that really you?!” a brunette woman comes up to him with the cheesiest smile on her face. “no way, giselle? long time no see!” he hugs her but that hug seems to be lasting way longer than it should.

it’s almost as if you completely didn’t exist anymore to jaemin. he told you he’d be “right back” but it’s been a good 15-20 minutes and he’s still over at the bar with giselle. he could’ve at least tried to hide the fact that he was flirtatious but he wasn’t even subtle when his eyes were glued to her massive rack the whole time she spoke. you know you aren’t dating this man but the disrespect of him to do that so blatantly in front of your face was crazy to you. he’s crossed the big no-no line for you and it’s only fair you give him a taste of his own medicine. you scan the room to look for a hot guy that would make the perfect candidate, settling your eyes on a very, ridiculously handsome man standing a few meters away from you. he seemed to be alone, his facial expression looking almost bored. you never thought white pants looked good on anyone, but on him? he was exquisite. he gave off 90’s skater vibes and looks like type that listens to cigarettes after sex. it intrigued you why such a good looking guy was here out by himself, just didn’t seem right.

you confidently walk up to him, tapping his shoulder to strike up a conversation. the blaring music would drown out your soft voice easily so you get closer to his ear, “hey, i’m just gonna put it out there right now, i think you’re hot and wanna dance with you!” you were bold for sure tonight. the man looks caught by surprise but doesn’t seem opposed by your advance. he whispers back in your ear “the feelings mutual, i’d love to!” within seconds, an array of ring clad fingers wrap around your waist to bring you to the center of the dance floor. you knew you had the full package but weren’t expecting to get this far so quickly, your backside was facing his front, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. a slow r&b song comes on so he rests his chin on your shoulder, “you look amazing in this dress might i add.” the unnamed man says in a raspy tone. “this definitely feels like fate ‘cause i’ve been eyeing you since i came in here.” you met this guy not even half an hour ago and you’re already ready to drop to your knees for him. “i didn’t try anything since i saw you with a guy earlier, that wasn’t your boyfriend right?” you laugh, scoffing at the idea of you ever dating jaemin. you’ll probably never want to see him again after this stunt he pulled. “no, not at all! he’s just some guy i was seeing, but he’s old news now!” “ah, i see. so then i’m allowed to claim you for the rest of the night?” “i’m all yours for the taking.”

the dance floor became a fuzzy obscure entity around you as your bodies collided. the way he danced so gracefully yet so sensual, his hands traveled down your body, admiring your curvy figure. it felt like a steamy movie scene where two hot strangers try and solve the thick tension between them. but your moment would soon be ruined by the constant vibrating of your phone. you tried ignoring it but it wouldn’t stop so you take it out your crossbody purse and look to see who’s been blowing it up. of course, the person who’s been trying to contact you was none other than jaemin. “sorry, s’cuse me i gotta look at this for a sec!” you break away momentarily to check the texts.

5 new notifications from- jaemin (sneaky link 💦)

[1:00 am]: wow..

[1:03 am]: i leave and come back for only a couple mins just to see you with other guys?? you should feel shameful

[1:04 am]: can’t believe you’d do me like that fr

[1:10 am]: funny cause i was starting to have genuine feelings for you too but i guess you girls are all just the same so idc it’s your loss 🤷🏻‍♂️

[1:18 am]: wtv

the audacity of this man was astonishing. you cannot believe him of all people is actually getting mad at you for doing this. you know you’ll probably regret this tomorrow but you tell him off, it’s only right since he wants to pull the victim card now.

[1:25 am]: don’t make me laugh jae, you’re so self entitled that you can’t even see what YOU did wrong. i’m not going to explain myself and idgaf what you think of me after this, i’m thru with your sorry ass anyways. go have fun with your new bae giselle since you wanna mooch it up with her all night which was way more than “a couple mins” btw… you practically threw yourself at her like the manwhore you are and left me to fend for myself! you are the only one who should feel shameful here not me. so kindly go fuck yourself and have a nice day :)

it felt good to let it all out after sending that, you gave zero fucks at this point. you put your phone on do not disturb, put it back in your purse and bring your attention back to the man with groovy dance moves. “why don’t we get out of here?” your ask sounds more like a demand as you pull his arm away to leave the floor, making your way through the sea of people. you reach outside and you were finally able to talk normally, not having to scream over the music in order to understand each other. “my cars parked in that lot over there, we can go back to my place if you want.” he proposes, waiting for you to give him the approval.

usually you aren’t this lenient with just hooking with someone from the club but this guy was on another level, you had to see what he’s all about. “sure, but before i get into the car with a complete stranger, can we at least know our names? i’m y/n.” you finally introduce yourself properly. “yeah that would make sense, my name’s haechan. it’s an honor to have you accompany me tonight!” he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to it. even the most minimal touch leaves you starstruck by him.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

once you got to haechan’s place, it started off with some wholesome fun. just talking and getting to know more about each other, haechan asked about jaemin again to make sure you were okay but you shrug it off saying you were fine. “trust me haechan, i’m not shedding a single tear over him so no need to keep asking. i’ll be fine, he was just someone i used as a booty call to be honest.” he nods to your response, “good, now i won’t feel like an asshole for saying what i was thinking.” “what were you thinking?” you wonder, raising your brow. “that i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.” his voice was laced with seduction as he spoke, “i don’t even mean to sound cocky but i’ll make it my personal goal to be the most memorable fuck you’ve ever had.” he presses his chest up against yours, “i’ll make sure you’ll never think about another man but me after i’m through with you princess.”

you nervously gulp, feeling yourself grow wetter by the minute. you’ve never had a man talk to you in such a way that could make you this easily aroused. “that’s a pretty bold claim you said there, you think you’ll be able to live up to it?” you tease, hoping he won’t take it too seriously. “oh i don’t think, i know. it’s 100% satisfaction guaranteed or your money back love— which will never happen.” he chuckles, snaking his hand to cup your chin and bringing it close to his lips. he stayed like that for what seemed like forever, staring at your petal lips, lightly squishing your cheeks together to turn them into a pout.

“so pretty…” he coos, inching closer to your lips now. he presents you with a deep kiss, sensing the raw passion through him as his hands tease the inners of your thighs. you get a fistful of his messy hair while sinking further down into the memory foam mattress, bringing him with you. he nibbles at your lower lip for entry and you immediately let him slide his tongue in, deliciously exploring each other, making you purr as he tastes the sweetness of you. you softly moan into the kiss, grinding your hips below him, bucking up pathetically to feel some action down there.

“god you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, after breaking away from the kiss. “i’m gonna fuck you ‘til it’s morning baby.” that sounded more like a threat than a promise. “you gonna rail me so hard that i scream and call you daddy all night?” you playfully remark, something ignited in him once you called him that, the desire for you only becoming more irrational. “oh my beloved, you have no idea.” his breaths were heavy against your skin, pressing kisses to your jawline then trailing down to your neck to gently suck. he found a hypersensitive area to make you gasp, sending goosebumps all over your body. you feel a hand on your breast, cupping it tenderly whilst littering your neck with pretty purple and red hickeys. your legs squirm underneath from him rubbing your nipple through your dress, feeling it stiffen as he pinched and flicked at them. you were so horny for him at this point, your panties were a soaked up mess. you continued bucking into him for any bit of stimulation, whining to feel something. it’s been a while since you’ve been needy like this for a man… “if you want something darling just ask.” he props his head up to give you a shit eating smirk, wanting to hear you talk just as dirty as he was. “gimme cock, please! i’m so painfully wet right now i can’t take it anymore.. just need you to fill me up” you weakly surrender. drool peaked out from the corner of your mouth and haechan noticed so he licks it up, “that’s what i’ve been planning to do for hours sweetheart.”

haechan gives you a couple more small, fleeting kisses while lifting your dress up, caressing your plump thighs, running his index finger from your inner thigh to your damp clothed clit. “goddamn you weren’t lying, you’re crazy wet.” you blush at how embarrassingly wet he’s made you for someone you haven’t even known a full 24 hours yet. “i’m just gonna prep you bit with my fingers m’kay babe?” he pushes your panties to the side, sliding his digits along your folds to gather your slick. he entered two fingers in you while circling and stimulating your clit with his thumb, your moans echoed throughout the room just for him. he curls them inside you and your walls cinch around needily, arching your back and moaning with pleasure.

you were seemingly going to come undone just from haechan fingering you, all the wetness dripping onto his wrist only making him want you to cream on his fingers more. your legs feel unstable and you twitch as you feel yourself cumming for the first time of the night, your liquids pour out into his digits, coating them with the creamiest mess. your mouth is locked open as you reach your high, another harsh swipe to your clit was the last string that pulled you. feeling breathless at this point, he gave a twisted smile before taking his fingers out and placing them in your mouth to suck one by one, tasting your lovely essence. he rushed to take off his clothes; quickly removing his pants and boxers to reveal his freshly trimmed, hardened cock. your eyes widen at his length, he’s much bigger than you thought, you were figuring out how he’d be able to fit it all inside. he’ll make it fit one way or another.

there will be many more orgasms to come as the night progresses, you’ve lost count at this point as the duvet is now soaked with your juices. he was pounding you into the ground with his cock, producing hefty back shots to your ass while his hands rest on both sides of your waist. he hasn’t gotten tired of fucking your tight pussy since he’s started. “who’s pussy does this belong to?” he pants, hitting your walls precisely, “it’s all mine right? my cock’s better than jaemin’s right??” he growls, already showing his possessive side within just a few hours. a loud slap to your ass comes with full force, barely giving you any time to react. “r-right!! all yours, this pussy belongs to only you haechan!” you internally struggled to speak, feeling faint off of how many times he’s made you cum. you scream and yelp from pleasure that his dick is the best and how good he’s making you feel. he’s fucked your overstimulated cunt so many times but you still subconsciously tighten around him as he draws out and pumps back in. as soon as he’s close to cumming he finishes on your back, spreading his white seed onto you like the filthy cockwhore you were for him.

he had you like putty in his hands, arching into his touch as he digs his nails into your plush hips. you squirt like it was nothing with him, but with jaemin you could never do that. you couldn’t let this just be a one night stand, you have to get this guy’s number before you leave to do the walk of shame in the morning. speaking of morning; you can see a faint sliver of light through the curtains and you realize now that haechan kept his word from earlier. you never kept track of time though, only thing on your mind is hyuck’s cock filling you up repeatedly. his pace would get sloppier as he’s close to his ten thousandth orgasm, hearing a loud guttural groan escape his mouth. he pulls out again but this time he turns you over while manhandling you, pinning your arms to each side while he cums all on your folds, watching it slowly leak down your swollen pussy. he drags his fingers to your cunt to spread your lips open, biting his lip at the sight — he made such a beautiful mess.

with your clit already being overstimulated and sensitive, he flicks his tongue back to it while tightly holding onto your thigh. your whole body trembles as you cry out to him, pulling his hair as he brings you to tears. you don’t know how you’re still breathing right now, waves of ecstasy washing your brain from constant stimulus, you were in utopia and heaven combined. you weren’t sure how much more you’ll be able to endure, “haechan! haechan!” you’d scream at the top of your lungs, body growing weaker and weaker. he was tearing down every part of you like his life depends on it. he forms saliva with his mouth and spits on your already dripping, throbbing cunt; he’ll never get tired of doing this. “i make you feel the best don’t i?” he grunts, slapping your pussy “no one makes you feel as good as i do right baby girl?” “yes…” you whimper from the twinge of pain. eyes roll to the back of your head, that devilish gaze he had could snatch your soul in an instant.

he was completely right when he said no one’s ever made you feel this good, he was most definitely going to be the most memorable lay you’ve had in your life. jaemin didn’t even come close to haechan. you feel crazy for wanting to stay with him and ask him how he likes his eggs in the morning, his cock rewired your whole brain to think only of him, to be of service to his every want and need. he drove you truly, madly, deeply insane. “looks like the suns fully rising now,” he says looking over at the acute sunlight emitting from the window “my work here is done.” “can i just stay like this for a while? i can’t feel my legs..” you croak, unable to even build minimum strength to prop your head up. “of course you can” he murmurs, “i would never kick you out like that. i was gonna ask if you wanted to sleep here and cuddle, hm?” pressing slow, lazy kisses to your shaky thighs, tracing patterns into them. he was a force to be reckoned with earlier but has now turned into a ray of sunshine right after. “yes please, i’d love that. hold me in your arms forever and ever.”

#nct #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan fanfic #nct x reader #haechan x f reader #nct x female reader #nct hard hours #lee donghyuck smut #lee donghyuk x reader

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tonicandjins · 11 months

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frequent flyers | lee donghyuck

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck x fem reader

WORD COUNT: 13k

GENRE: angst, fluff, smut (non-linear) | best friends to strangers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: read with caution. this is written in a non-linear form, so you don't know when it's going to hurt ;) this is a dh x reader version of my markhyuck fic from ao3, but with a different ending

frequent flyers is the third installment from 23 moments with donghyuck

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: skin glowing under the dainty string lines and lined up lanterns hanging from the high ceilings, lips curled up to genuine smile instead of the usual teasing smirk plastered on his mouth, cheeks tainted in berry red—a single manifestation of the glasses of wine he’s had tonight, eyes round and sincere and everything you’ve ever known.

Zhong Chenle’s mellifluous voice echoes in the banquet, singing to the tune of lover as the newly weds take their first dance (third song in) in the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples and lovers swaying. From your peripheral view, you catch a glimpse of Park Jisung sneaking his phone out and recording the whole thing—after Chenle clearly mentioned no one else aside from the newlyweds’ assigned videographer is allowed to film him.

On other days, you’d love to listen to Chenle’s golden voice, and he knows this because from all the years you’ve known him, you’d supported his career and you’d spend many hours sitting in his studio, listening to him record, or sitting somewhere halfway across the world, watching him write his songs. I can listen to him sing all day, you’d say, but as the night jumps deeper into its darkness, you realize how excruciatingly long his 15-minute medley went by.

You look across the room.

Donghyuck looks enthralling like this: beautiful even after all these years, charming like he’s the day he turned 21, grown, earnest, and at ease. It’s agonizing to look at from where you sit across the room—hands wrapped around her waist, eyes closing as he leans in, drunk, drunk, drunk like the night you’d left him, heart void of you.

You begin to count.

At 27, you’re pretty much done with all kinds of romance the world could offer.

Unlike the person sitting next to you, you prefer to listen to Blushing Youth than watch some high-rated romantic comedy film during your 12-hour flight from Heathrow to Incheon, and while you’ve been moving around for most of your life (having earned your nickname as frequent flyer, credits to Jisung), flying is not one of the things you’re fond of. In fact, it’s not in the long list of strengths you brag about in your LinkedIn bio. You reckon it would truly be embarrassing, to say the least, to ask a stranger to distract you from the sound of the aircraft’s engine running at full power as it takes off from the runway, hence you opt to blast Ahn Jiyoung’s voice right in your eardrums.

It’s odd, people would say, for someone who’s supposedly mastered the art of moving from one country to another to be so terrified of flights, but if people want you to be completely honest, nothing sounds more horrifying than the thought of seeing Lee Donghyuck after years of radio silence.

As pathetic as it sounds, your heart still skips a beat—three, sometimes—at the thought of him.

Donghyuck, who used to be your sun, who had you orbiting around his gravitational pull for years, who used to be so close but not enough to have, who—if you think about it now—might have never been the center of your solar system after all, but maybe just a shooting star passing by.

The plane takes off, roughly and loud like you’d expected, and you catch a glimpse of a scene from Love, Rosie from the person sitting beside you and immediately regret going coach instead of flying business like how you would if your flights last more than ten hours. You hate this film; you hate it because Alex is to Rosie, like how Donghyuck is to you.

Alex and Rosie, like you and Donghyuck, are—were—long-time best friends who used to be inseparable until one day they’re not. Rosie misses her chance. Alex stops yearning, hoping, waiting, and finally decides to get on with his life. It’s a story of a bunch of tangled webs—a messy tumbleweed of missed calls and delayed flights, of long nights and short days, of forgotten promises and faded hope.

The film introduces new people, bids goodbye to old chapters, but in the end it’s Alex and Rosie.

And you wish that’s how your story went. You don’t end up kissing him in your very own hotel with an awe-striking view of the horizon right outside the window.

You bury the thought before you start missing him again. You run out of tracks from Blushing Youth’s discography like how you run dry from thinking about what happens next when your plane lands.

Might as well sleep it off.

A sharp, jabbing pain on your left leg wakes you up from your unscheduled sleep. Hissing, you find Donghyuck sitting on top of your legs.

“I swear to God,” you breathe, kicking your best friend’s weight off your limbs. “I will freaking kill you.”

“Dude, what’s wrong with saying fuck? You’re literally twenty,” Donghyuck replies, moving further so his entire body crushes yours, and you have to pretend that his warmth doesn’t make you feel some type of way, hence you push him as hard as you can until he falls onto the carpeted floor of your room.

He falls with a thump. “Screw you,” he mumbles, mouth forming a pout that you’d gladly smack out of his face—except you’d do it with your very own lips. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. Why are you napping?”

“Good question, Donghyuck,” you start, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while looking for the pair of specs that Donghyuck is already shoving towards your direction; you gladly take it. “Unlike you, I had to work in the café until one in the morning. I hate being rostered in the closing shift, but it pays damn well. Plus, I forgot to do my laundry so I had to throw my clothes in before I slept.

“Overworking again, I see,” he muses, sighing as he scoots to sit cross-legged across you on the bed too tiny for two people.

“The last week of the semester always sucks balls,” you answer, tilting your head in attempts to stretch your stiffened neck and get some kind of relief. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be out there doing something stupid with Na Jaemin?”

“There’s a music festival on Friday,” he starts right away. “Jaemin’s wondering if I’d be interested to go, says he could get us some free passes from the guy he’s hooking up with. Apparently, the guy is DJ-ing.”

You blink. “Which one? Lee Jeno? Or Yoon Sanha?” you ask, genuinely curious because Jaemin is Jaemin and he could never be caught exclusively hooking up with one person.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Does it matter? Is it a yes or a no? That’s the question.”

He begins to fiddle with his fingers, playing with the rings on his long, delicate digits, and you recognize it almost instantly. Donghyuck is nervous. You might have an idea why.

“Is this you finally asking me out, Lee Donghyuck?” you half-joke, scratching your head. Donghyuck looks anywhere but your face. A glimpse of his eyes is all you need, because if the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, then Donghyuck’s are wide open, with no curtains and bare from all layers—at least that’s how they are to you. His eyes are wavering, and though he’s mastered the ability to keep his face tough as steel, those orbs could only do so little when it comes to hiding from you.

So, you smile, reaching out and leaning closer, kneeling until you’re face to face with him. “Only kidding, Hyuck,” you say finally, taking it easy because this conversation is not for one who’s hazy from sleep and one who can’t even look at the other in the eyes. “Of course, I’ll come with you. Who else can you bring anyway?”

Donghyuck looks up, rolling his eyes; he’s back. “You’re not really irreplaceable,” he replies smugly. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”

You poke your tongue out and reach over your night stand to check your phone; at the same time, Donghyuck starts biting his fingernails. You don’t think twice—like blinking, a habit, natural—and reach out to pull his hand away, mumbling about how he should start working on getting rid of this bad habit of his. Donghyuck’s hand is warmer compared to yours, and he lets out a whine, complaining about your freezing hands, but squeezes you hand back anyway.

You are content with this. You hope Donghyuck is, too.

The lingering touches. The stolen kisses. The piercing glances.

While they all seem fleeting and simple, they mean the most to you. You begin to think if Donghyuck feels the same as he pulls you closer until you’re both back lying on his bed, your cheek resting on top of Donghyuck’s warm, cloth-covered chest. You wonder if he means it, when he says you’re not irreplaceable and that maybe you’re a little too comfortable, a little too satisfied with whatever it is that you have.

On a drunken night, Donghyuck may have asked you once. You remember it and think about it so much that sometimes it felt like a dream.

“How long, Y/N,” he had asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, gaze a shade darker. “How long until you let yourself just lose it? For once, just—just please, let your feelings consume you.”

You didn’t want to—not then, not now—because it’s going to hurt.

It’s going to hurt because it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Donghyuck who feels like home, whose hands are warm enough for your cold ones, your own little sun. Losing him is the extinction of your solar system.

“Y/N,” he had whined when you didn’t reply, shaking you, pleading. “When are you going to want for more? I want you to ask me for more.”

But Donghyuck had passed out before you had the chance to think of an answer—time frame—and you wonder what your answer would have been if Donghyuck stayed awake for a couple more minutes.

“I guess napping at this time of the day doesn’t sound too bad,” Donghyuck murmurs against your hair, kissing it before relaxing. “Set an alarm for me. 3 pm.”

You hope Donghyuck asks you again, not this time, but you hope the question lingers in his mind a little longer.

He falls asleep to the sound of your breathing.

When the person sitting next to you finally wakes up, you could only sigh in relief.

The aircraft has landed a few minutes ago, and your flight seatmate slept so soundly that it took you a couple of minutes to shake her awake.

The 12-hour flight is a pain in the ass, and you wish you mean that figuratively. Waiting was something that you were once good at, and Renjun often told you he wished he had half the patience you had. If you think about it now and reflect whether you’re as patient and as willing to wait as before, you’d changed vastly. Ridiculous, how one could change so much in a lifetime.

Huang Renjun is standing behind a barricade when you finally reach the arrival area after going through immigration. He’s holding a piece of paper that says WELCOME HOME, Y/N! Renjun doesn’t give you the time to cross the boundary because he attacks you in bone-crushing hug the second he’s allowed to. You almost topple over him, your glasses at risk of either falling out of your face and into the cold, hard ground, or being crushed between your nose and Renjun’s shoulder.

Renjun chants your nickname over and over again, swaying both your bodies left and right as though you weighed nothing. “I’m literally about to combust. My chest has been pounding since I arrived here. You have no idea how much I missed you, and you were taking forever to go through immigration.”

“Oh, Huang Renjun,” you sigh, inhaling his scent and returning the hug. “Some things never change. You’re still the sweetest when you miss people. Absence really makes the heart grow fond.”

Renjun pulls away to get a good look on you. “Y/N, you’re all grown up. I can’t believe you resisted not seeing me in person for four years.”

“You’re just as grown up as I am,” you reply. “We Facetime each other every other day. What are you talking about?”

“It’s never the same,” he mumbles and helps you with your luggage despite it only being one small luggage, a small duffel bag, and your small backpack. He starts nagging as soon as he notices how small your baggage is.

“You were away for literally four years and you think packing three old shirts and a pair of jeans will be enough to get you through your entire trip here?” Renjun gasps. “You’re stupid if you think Chenle and Jisung are allowing you to leave after what we’re all here for. They have an entire month planned out the second you agreed to come home.”

“I didn’t bring only three shirts, for your information. And I did bring a few pairs of trousers and a coat, plus my dress for the wedding,” you defend. “And I can’t extend my trip here. I thought we’ve all got that one settled.”

Renjun laughs, as if what you said is some kind of joke, as he leads you towards the exit of the airport. “You know we would 100%, without hesitation, burn your passport if it means we could make you stay longer, don’t you? I hope you don’t underestimate us like that.”

You chuckle at his empty threat, your chest swelling at the thought of your long-time friends being thrilled of your arrival in Seoul. You wonder how much has changed in the last four years, and you reckon nothing much has when it comes to your friends. You’d left when most of you were twenty-three, and the only person you’d ever seen in person since then was Chenle, who at that time, had business in London so he stayed where you lived instead of a luxurious hotel he could afford.

“We’re heading to Chenle’s place,” Renjun announces as soon as you sit comfortably in the passenger seat of his car. “But he’s still in his studio recording something, so he won’t be around until maybe five.”

“Why are we going to Chenle’s place if he’s not there yet?” you ask. “He didn’t tell me he had work.”

“We’ve all worked around our schedules to meet you today,” Renjun explains as he turns the ignition on and starts backing up. “And everyone knows his home’s passcode. Remember back in college when his stupid fancy condo eventually became everyone’s? That’s still how it is now. Only this time, he owns a penthouse in Gangnam’s most expensive building. What a spoiled brat.”

“He earned it,” you comment.

Renjun hums. An old track from the local radio station plays just as the vehicle exits the airport’s parking area. You hadn’t heard this song in years, but your mouth sings the lyrics as though it’s only been yesterday.

Renjun is amused. “Some things never really change.”

Donghyuck suddenly changes his hair color on Sophomore year in college. You, on the other hand, are about to have an aneurysm.

Na Jaemin makes fun of you, laughs as if your reaction is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen his entire life. He deems it as the best day of his life.

“Jaemin, am I a fucking joke to you?” you ask. Jaemin doesn’t even bother to answer. “You think this is funny?”

You almost choke on nothing when Donghyuck decides to walk towards the table you’re sharing with Jaemin inside the university’s very own cafeteria. He’s holding a tray of food for lunch. The man himself has a shy smile on his face, evidently aware of the attention that the people around are giving him because of his newly-dyed pink hair, and you can’t really blame anyone if they stared a little longer.

Because Donghyuck is already beautiful, with his shining eyes and glowing skin and a smile that could make the earth stop orbiting around the sun.

But this Donghyuck, Pink Sun as Jaemin had started calling him, he’s something else. You might pass out if you look at him a little longer.

“I told you pink looks amazing on you!” Jaemin exclaims as soon as Donghyuck is close enough.

Donghyuck instantly blushes, but covers it up with a smug smirk across his mouth.

“Careful,” Donghyuck warns. “I don’t want you getting hurt if I reject you.”

Jaemin gasps, “You would never!”

Donghyuck playfully sticks out his tongue on Jaemin and finally, finally, turns towards you. Your breath is caught in a hitch. Donghyuck tilts his head slightly and you’re about to punch himself in the face.

“What do you think?” the man asks, smiling cheekily. “Do you think I look better blond or pink-haired?”

You swallow. It takes you great power not to pull Donghyuck and kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Blond Donghyuck was a menace in the society. Pink Sun is giving you a heart attack.

But you’re not about to make things too obvious, so you shrug and mutter a small “either is fine.” Jaemin kicks you under the table. Donghyuck sighs, taking out his phone to open its front camera, probably to check himself out as he brushes his fingertips in his hair.

“You’re cheap, Y/N,” he says, putting his phone down. “I basically burn my scalp to get this hair color and pull it off better than Lee Taeyong ever will, and all I get from you is, ‘either is fine.’”

Jaemin laughs hysterically, taking his phone out as Donghyuck takes the empty seat beside you—like always, because seats beside you are always reserved for him. Donghyuck carefully places the tray of food he got, immediately, your eyes catch the extra drink he has and your heart somersaults because you know it’s for you.

And this is supposed to be normal. Your friends tell you it’s a routine—every day—and you and him do things for each other like second nature. So, why does it make your heart race like this?

Your phone chimes as Donghyuck starts eating.

“We really need to work on your communication skills,” the text message from Jaemin says.

Your comprehension in Korean went from bad to worse, if it’s even possible.

Renjun is currently roasting you for it, while Jisung and Kim Minjeong are arguing about what to eat. You tell them how small the Asian community in London is as compared to other countries. Jaemin announces that Mark Lee just boarded his flight from Vancouver, too, and you cheer, excited to see him as well after all these years. Yoo Jimin calls out Jisung and Minjeong’s bullshit and says she’d already ordered from the nearest restaurant.

How you all end up in Chenle’s penthouse before the owner himself is aware, you have no idea. All you know is that things have not really changed that much.

You feel a little disoriented, your mind still a little hazy from the 12-hour trip, and you hate that the jetlag is hitting you as early as now. You feel like you could fall asleep anytime soon.

Then you hear familiar voices faintly coming from the door, then the door itself being unlocked. You observe from the digital clock above Chenle’s fancy television that it’s only nearly two in the afternoon, so it’s not Chenle who’s coming in.

Donghyuck appears from the door before you realize it, and he takes your breath away before you could even look him in the eyes.

“Sorry, we’re late,” the dark-haired man says, his voice making you feel suffocated, stepping out of his boots because God forbid anyone who steps inside Zhong Chenle’s penthouse wearing the outdoor shoes.

Lee Jeno enters behind him, his eye smile ready to meet you, while Jaemin says they arrived just in time for lunch. All is a blur and everything sounds like white noise, because Donghyuck looks at you in the eyes with the softest gaze, the smallest smile, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so cold in Seoul.

Jeno walks past him and finds his space beside Jaemin. You hear Renjun and Jisung start arguing about another thing. All while Donghyuck stays still from where he stands, about ten feet away from your space, eyes still on you.

When they’re done dancing, Donghyuck walks with her, holding her hand and keeping her close.

He passes by, doesn’t even take a glance to your direction.

Donghyuck looks at you in amusement.

“It was terrible,” you grunt. “The worst day of my life.”

He giggles and pulls you in his arms, kissing the top of your head while you stand in the middle of the room. You’re still dressed in your warm clothes as you’d just arrived from the airport. You sigh in relief because you’ve been waiting for this all weekend.

“Don’t be too dramatic,” he mumbles. “Your cousin’s going to be ballistic if he learns that you called his wedding the worst day of your life.”

“You should’ve gone there with me,” you muse. “They were introducing me to so many people, and my uncle knows I’m shit at socializing, therefore forcing me to hang out with people I barely know is like stabbing me in the eye and asking me how many fingers you’re holding up.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “What could I have done if I were there?”

You smile, burying your face in his warm chest. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why’d you need me there?” Donghyuck asks again. You know he’s teasing you now, poking until he gets the answer he wants to hear. And you’re not about to deny Donghyuck of that. Besides, nothing is more satisfying than knowing you could make Donghyuck feel flustered despite of his strong, wild persona. So, you reach up and kiss him on the chin and hug him closer.

“Because nothing is as bad as it seems when you’re around, my love.”

Donghyuck begins to pull away, making you hold onto him tighter, as if your hands would grow cold without touching him. Donghyuck only laughs, allowing you to hug him longer, and you wonder if you could stretch this night out for as long as he can.

The moment passes by quickly.

“Donghyuck, will you at least listen to me?”

“I’m done, Y/N.”

Renjun announces he’s done cleaning up.

Jaemin doesn’t waste a single second, getting up from his space on the other couch and announces it’s time they really catch up with everyone. It turns out that Jimin herself just got back from Germany yesterday as well, while Minjeong took a week off from work, and all had waited for you to come home before gathering in Chenle’s place.

“Mark’s a piece of shit, just like you,” Jeno comments when asked why the older didn’t take the earliest flight. Apparently, like yourself, Mark couldn’t get a couple of weeks off from work, hence he’d decided to travel a few days before the wedding, which is essentially why you all had a reason to gather once again after all these years.

“Why are you all harassing me and Mark for not being able to take a longer leave from work?” you whine, throwing a cushion towards where Jeno is seated, right beside Jimin. “It’s not like we can help it!”

Minjeong snorts, “You could’ve said you have COVID or something.”

You snicker. “Only you could think of that, Minjeong-ah.”

Jeno talks about his recent flight to Yonagunijima in Okinawa for a business trip. Renjun tells him he’s never gone that far in Japan, his farthest trip being in Osaka; Jeno says he can take him there anytime he gets some free time from work. Jaemin hypes up Jisung’s newly built dance studio and the contract he’d just signed with the biggest entertainment company in Asia, to which Jisung only downplays and says it’s not that big of deal.

You and Donghyuck stay quiet while everyone else talks over one another. He sits at the other end of the same couch you’re sitting on while Jisung occupies the space between you and him. Renjun probably feels the tension, so he cuts it.

“Donghyuck, what have you been up to?” Renjun asks, reaching over for a piece of chocolate you’d stolen from Chenle’s fridge.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Renjun-ah, don’t act like we don’t see each other every weekend.”

Renjun scoffs. “We’re here to catch up. Do you want me to tell them what you’ve been up to myself?”

Donghyuck throws a cushion and misses. “Nothing’s new about me, guys. Nothing that’s interesting enough.” Then, he leans forward and turns to you. “Maybe Y/N has anything to say. I mean, she’s the one who’s been away the longest.”

It takes you aback, the interaction unexpected, and gets you stuttering. “I’m—There’s really nothing, I mean.”

Donghyuck laughs lightly. “Loosen up. You look like you’d rather be elsewhere but here.”

“It’s not like that,” you defend. “It’s just—jetlag.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck nods. “How long was the flight?”

“Twelve hours,” you answer. Renjun does his best, distracting everyone else with a new conversation so you and Donghyuck, you assume, would feel more comfortable rather than have everyone listen to you talking with the person you used to know the best. Jisung tries to subtly leave, pretending like he needs to go to the restroom, and you know it’s a tactic because you also know Jisung like the back of your hand.

Donghyuck immediately moves closer, taking the space Jisung used to sit on, the distance pulling the air out of your lungs.

“And my flight was delayed for a couple of hours because of a storm,” you continue, clearing your voice. “So, fourteen hours in total, plus one hour from Incheon to Gangnam.”

Donghyuck nods. “Well, you fly frequently.”

You nod back. “Not that frequently anymore. Since the pandemic, I’ve been working from home a lot; there was no need to travel after all. Or move to a different country. It turns out we can do everything virtually.”

Donghyuck chuckles, almost sarcastically. “What a shame that the entire world realized suddenly that everything could work virtually.”

You smile, sadly almost. “Yeah. What a shame.”

“I didn’t get the whole thing,” Jisung sighs. “What a shame. The last parts were the best.”

“You know Chenle’s going to kill you if he finds out you took a video, right?”

Jisung nods proudly. “That was the point.”

“Lia, wait,” Donghyuck’s voice echoes—not loud enough to catch anyone else’s attention, but definitely enough for you. You watch him follow Lia out.

You decide you’ve had enough. The wedding’s done now, anyway. There’s nothing left for you here.

Jisung looks at you. “Y/N.”

“Just need some space, Jisung,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“You’re lying,” You gasp, almost dropping your iPad upon Donghyuck’s revelation. “Holy shit, Donghyuck, that’s huge!”

“Never thought I’d hear that in another context but thanks, my love,” Donghyuck replies, a proud smile etched on his mouth. He reaches over and shows you a piece of paper, the confirmation of his participation in a convention in Shanghai a couple of weeks from now.

“Wait until Jaemin hears this,” You ramble, already on his phone to text said friend about the good news. “He’s going to throw a party for you.”

“You guys are too proud of me,” Donghyuck whines. “What if I end up being such a flop outside my comfort zone? There are going to be so many amazing artists out there. I heard some vocal majors from Konkuk are attending the conference with me, and I am already terrified of them. I can't imagine myself once I'm surrounded by even more talented and more intimidating singers."

You put down your tablet on your desk, sighing as you step closer towards Donghyuck. You’re in the apartment you share with Jimin, and Donghyuck called in earlier to tell you he’s got some great news. Neither of you really have much time to meet these days, with your internship at Seoul's biggest web developer company and the drastic changes in Donghyuck's schedule, it's a little too difficult to hang out in the safety of your apartment.

Donghyuck is evidently taken aback when you suddenly wrap an arm around his neck, tumbling when you pull him closer and kisses the air out of his lungs. You regret closing your eyes when your lips touch, thinking about the way Donghyuck looks like whenever you kiss him like this. Like Donghyuck's all you’ve ever needed. Like all the years of pining and hurting are expressed in a single kiss. Like it's everything you’ve always wanted and more.

It's not the first time you kiss—you’ve lost count you made out in the back of Jeno’s car two months ago while all your friends are drunk and out of their minds—but it always feels like it is.

Donghyuck's lips are soft, soft, soft, and you can never get enough of the kissing him. The first, featherlight, a little hesitant touch of your lips would be your second favorite part (the favorite is when Donghyuck's licking your mouth and nibbles on your lower lip), and his hands, his delicate hands would always be in your hair, pulling and pressing and touching.

It's perfect. Donghyuck pulls you down with him on your very own bed, letting you sit on his lap.

He's kissing you everywhere, your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, your jaw, but he stops when you begin to unbutton his shirt. You look down on him, confused and eager and dazed, and usually, Donghyuck would give in without a single fight, but this time he stops you.

"What are we doing, Y/N?" Donghyuck lets out, like he's been holding this breath forever and now he's finally exhaling it.

"We're," you start, confused why he’s asking all of a sudden, but you don’t really have an answer to that. "We're—”

"Messing around. Having fun while we can," Donghyuck finishes, quoting your own words the first time you hooked up. "I know. But that was before, right? What about now? What are we doing now?"

Your hands drop on Donghyuck's side. Donghyuck quickly takes both of them in his, giving you a comforting squeeze, as if he's encouraging you to say something. To be brave. To let go.

"We can't go on like this if you don't answer me, Y/N," Donghyuck says softly. "I know what I want, and you know that it's you. Just you. From the beginning. As long as I live. And you are making me happy right now. But I need to know if this is what you want, too."

"Love, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want you," you explain, eyes wavering.

"Y/N, listen to me," Donghyuck urges, letting go of one of your hands to hold your face so you could look into each other's eyes. "Tell me now. Tell me now, honestly, if this is something you would want in the long run."

"Donghyuck," You sigh, like you’re begging for Donghyuck to stop asking. But Donghyuck doesn't let his guard down. He keeps his hands on you, waiting.

You want nobody else but Donghyuck, too. From the beginning. For as long as you live. And Donghyuck is making you happy, and you know well that Donghyuck will make you happy in the long run. The last two months of whatever game you’re playing had been fun. There was no agreement on being exclusive, no rules of some sort, and it all fell into place like you and him are supposed to end up like this. You hadn’t put a label on it, but you and Donghyuck are best friends for many years now. You went through growing pains together, survived each one of the flights you frequently took around the world, went to the same college together, and you don’t really see the point of rushing for a label now.

Because you have other things in mind other than what you feel right now. You have codes to master and board directors to impress. Donghyuck has auditions to pass and flights to catch as well, and now, an opportunity in Shanghai. Not to mention you’re both cramming to have the best credentials to get you the best job after graduation. Now is not really the best time.

So, just like many happenstances in your life, you come up with a stupid, stupid answer.

"I—I don't know, Donghyuck," you say nervously. "I mean, you're clearly making me happy. And I don't plan on seeing anyone else, but I haven't really gotten around to think about it."

Donghyuck takes his touch away all of a sudden. You reach out to hold his hands in place back to your face, but he lets go.

"Think about it?" Donghyuck asks, voice shaking. "What is there to think about? It's a simple question, Y/N. Do you want me for a long time or am I just some good fuck for you?"

"Donghyuck, why are you saying that?" you retort, angry now. "I just said you make me happy. And I'm not playing with you. I just—it's—with all the things going on in my life and yours, a relationship is not something I can maintain right now."

"Maintain?" Donghyuck chuckles, pulling his hands away, gently pushing you off his lap and standing away from your bed to put some space between you and him. "Y/N, we've been best friends since we were in high school. Literally nothing has changed for us except we kiss and fuck now. What is there to think about? I really do not understand."

You sigh. The sound of it makes Donghyuck pull away further until he’s picking up his backpack.

"Donghyuck, wait," You say, but Donghyuck is already out of his room, barefoot, his shoes in his hands.

Barefoot, his shoes in one hand, two bottles of beer on the other, Donghyuck finds you by the pool outside the wedding reception. He sits beside you and mimics the way you rolled the bottom of your dress up to your thighs so it doesn’t get wet and does the same with his expensive trousers.

“What are you doing out here?” you muse, eyes staring blankly at the way your feet look blurred out underwater. “Shouldn’t you be inside getting drunk and having the time of your life?”

Donghyuck chuckles, his cheeks painted like cherries, mouth glazed like strawberries, and hands you the cold bottle of beer. “I’m already drunk. Do you think I’d have the courage to come find you here if I was sober?”

You nod, taking the bottle from his hand. “Good point. Fun party?”

“Jaemin and Jeno never fail to organize the best party,” he stammers. “They used to invite everyone in their shared apartment to play the American games they learned from Johnny-hyung. I can’t believe they’re married now.”

Jaemin and Jeno, the very reason why all of you gathered after all these years, have always been destined for each other, and you know this because you’d seen them start off as nothing and watched them turn to everything. Their wedding had been the sole reason why you’d returned to Seoul.

“I always knew they’d end up together,” you mutter, drinking from the cold bottle. “I used to manifest it. I said it all the time I saw them together.”

Donghyuck giggles. “You used to believe in the law of attraction so much. You manifested everything that’s happened in your life.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you reply, tasting the bitterness coming from the drink, a reminder why you prefer any other drink aside from beer.

It’s quite for a minute until Donghyuck talks.

“Why didn’t you manifest us?” he says suddenly, words a little grumbled. He’s probably had too much to drink already. You hold onto him naturally as his head starts swaying until his head is leaning against your shoulder, close enough to hear each other breathing. “Y/N, why did you never say we’d end up together like this, too? You were so damn good with this law of attraction bullshit. You could’ve manifested our wedding, too.”

Donghyuck is drunk, and drunk Donghyuck is always vulnerable. His tone of voice is enough for you to decide to cut this trip shorter than it already is. A week, you had promised Jeno and Jaemin, you’d leave two days after the wedding. But at this moment, when you’re frozen in place, Donghyuck’s warmth touching your coldness, you begin to ponder if it had been a good idea to come back in Seoul at all.

You love Jeno and Jaemin and would do anything for them in a heartbeat. Therefore, when the couple announced their engagement two months ago, it had been a quick, solid yes, of course, I’ll be there because you wouldn’t miss their wedding for the world, even if it had been exactly four years and two months since the last time you’d breathed the air of Seoul and that you’d rather die than be in a 12-hour flight, you swore you’d be with your friends during such a huge chapter of their lives.

Your schedules were immediately reconstructed, a ticket to Seoul safely tucked in the files in your desk’s drawer, and all your friends from London were already asking you to bring something back from Seoul when your trip is over. It was all set, with the promise of checking in with your teammates from work during your one-week leave, and it was the easiest itinerary you’d ever made. What you failed to prepare, truly, is yourself.

Somehow, you knew this would happen. You knew coming back would mean seeing Donghyuck. And seeing Donghyuck means opening wounds you’re not certain have healed and resuming conversations you’d never wanted to go back to. And this means, at any given time Donghyuck is within your space, you’d be a goner.

Because four years, it turns out, isn’t enough to get over him.

Quite funny, if you think about it now, how after all these years, you’re still orbiting around him.

You clear your throat, no words coming out, and Donghyuck starts to fall asleep against your shoulder.

Your right shoulder feels sore after falling asleep on your side on Chenle’s couch the morning after Jaemin and Jeno’s bachelor party. It was crazy, to say the least, and you’d decided to drink your guts to in hopes of not remembering anything in the morning. It sucks because you’re stupidly hungover and you remember everything.

The group was divided into two. You, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Minjeong were in charge of Jaemin in the other side of the city, courtesy of Jung Jaehyun for sponsoring and personally planning the grand party for his favorite dongsaeng. Meanwhile, Jisung, Chenle, Mark, and Jimin had planned Jeno’s very own party, along with Lee Taeyong who funded the event.

If you’re being completely honest, you’d think that after college, your friends would lose their sparks in setting up amazing parties, but last night proved you wrong.

The alcohol was disgusting, but you like that it made Renjun do things he wouldn’t do sober. Jaemin refused to get shit-faced drunk because his wedding is in two days, his hangovers usually last an entire day—he doesn’t want to show up at his own wedding looking like a zombie. Minjeong, well, she’s Minjeong, so she was just all over the place, nagging and getting drunk. She’s also a snob who thinks so highly of herself despite being the youngest in the group and liked to look down on her older friends all while attempting to stand upright after downing five shots of tequila.

Donghyuck, however, decided to bring his new girlfriend. Her name is Lia. And the only goal last night was to stay as far away as possible.

You knew that the relationship was new because Jisung filled you in before you had all parted ways for the parties, said that Donghyuck started dating her two months ago right around the time Jaemin and Jeno got engaged, Jimin being their bridge because Lia and Jimin have been friends since last year. Apparently, Lia’s been interested with him for years now; she just never had the chance because like you, Donghyuck also disappeared in and out from Seoul for a couple of years until he’d decided to stay here for good two years ago.

You can’t remember how many shots you had and how many cocktails were handed to you last night, but you wish you had more because it was evidently not enough to erase the scenarios from last night. It wasn’t enough to blur out the memories of Donghyuck holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, and just all out being a lovey-dovey boyfriend.

It’s a relief that you got home safely. There was no designated driver because the plan was to really get drunk, so Jaehyun had one of his employees drive everyone to Chenle’s penthouse because it’s the closest. You hope the others returned to Jeno’s place safely, too.

You stay still from where you’re lying down, eyes up on the ceiling, wondering what time it is. There was no plan for today aside from wedding rehearsal at six in the evening to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow, so you reckon you have the entire day to get rid of your hangover.

You roll over to your side, facing the television, and the clock tells you it’s eleven in the morning. Renjun is snoring away from the other couch, and you remember letting Minjeong sleep on your bed for the night. You’re staring at Renjun’s sleeping form when someone on the carpeted floor suddenly rolls over, allowing you to see their face.

Donghyuck’s sleeping on the floor beside the couch, body parallel to yours so you can see his peaceful sleeping face, mouth slightly agape. He’s now sleeping on his back, head supported by one of the cushions, body covered with his jacket from last night. You remember parting ways with him with him last night. He’d taken a taxi with Lia back to her place while the rest of you went home in Jaehyun’s SUV. You don’t remember him coming back here.

You stare at him for as long as you can, because in the last three days in Seoul, you’d never really gotten the chance to get a good look on him. You and him don’t follow each other from any social media, so the last four years had truly been radio silence from both sides. Donghyuck, at 27, doesn’t look like he’s aged that much, albeit his round cheeks being gone, replaced by prominent cheekbones. It looks like he never bothered to get rid of the constellations forming on his face and neck, too, because they’re still here, just like many things that haven’t changed. Donghyuck used to love dyeing his hair crazy colors, now his hair is just colored naturally. His lips, wonder if they still taste the same.

“He’s going to melt,” Renjun says suddenly, you plop your head back to the couch, guilty for staring too long. Renjun sits up, stretching and laughing at your misery. “And you’re going to have a heart attack if you keep sneaking glances and getting caught. How many times has Jisung caught you in the last 72 hours?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, getting up and stretching as well. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

You carefully get off from the couch, making sure you don’t topple on Donghyuck’s sleeping body, draping the blanket over his body, walking towards Chenle’s fancy kitchen. Renjun helps you, rummaging through the fridge, and comes up with a breakfast menu with whatever you had in the kitchen.

Donghyuck wakes up before you and Renjun could finish cooking everything. He’s quiet when he approaches you in the kitchen, softly asking if you could make coffee for him. You don’t say no, of course.

“This is the most disgusting cup of coffee, I’ve had my entire life,” Donghyuck complains, leaning over the counter where you’re working on the opposite side of. “Stop jeopardizing the café’s reputation. You’re not some scientist so stop mixing concoctions from hell just to brag that you’re a part-time barista and a full-time college student. You make me sick. Literally.”

You ignore all of it, of course, eyebrows furrowed as you take another sip of the quote and quote disgusting coffee, trying to figure out what went wrong this time.

“I think it needs a bit more vanilla,” you think out loud.

“I will not join you in this stupid crusade of making your own “Barista’s Special” recipe,” he continues. “And I will tell your manager you’re wasting coffee!”

“Aha!” you exclaim when you think you got it right. “Maybe I need to level the grounds better and add another pump of vanilla. Let me try that. It should taste better.”

Donghyuck chuckles as you move around and attempt to make another cup. “You’ve been saying it should taste better since last week.”

He keeps complaining, but takes the new cup of coffee as soon as you’re done.

Donghyuck drinks.

You wait.

It still tastes disgusting.

“It’s sweet,” Donghyuck comments when he drinks it. You tilt your head. Renjun is finishing up on the scrambled eggs. You hear Minjeong come out of your room.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, hopeful.

Donghyuck shakes his head, chuckling. “Better than the ones you made when we were in university.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “I was awarded employee of the month once!”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you forced me to drink your disgusting concoctions for three weeks straight,” he states, making you laugh even more. “I guess, all these years you’d learned what you were missing.”

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble against Donghyuck’s chest. “The internship will just be for a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Donghyuck kisses the top of your head. “When you come back,” he mutters. “When you come back, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You freeze.

“And you’ll say yes. And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

You pull away a little so that you’re looking at him face to face. Donghyuck has tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You wipe it off with the sleeves of his jacket you’re wearing.

“I’ll say yes,” you promise. “And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

A woman’s voice announces your flight number once again and says the gates are closing in five minutes. Donghyuck kisses you in the mouth—a promise—and tells you he loves you.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you say. “I love you, too.”

“Come back home to me, yeah?”

“I will.”

Yours and Donghyuck’s favorite restaurant was located two blocks away from his parents’ home. It closed a few years ago when its owner passed away and his children were too heartbroken to keep the business running. It was a staple from your entire high school life, and if you could say it, it defined your standards when it comes to food.

You’d just gotten a call from home that your childhood pet had to be put down because of old age and many diseases, and you called in sick for work—thank God, Johnny was willing to cover for you otherwise the manager would’ve rejected your request to stay at home for the day—and you’re truly not in the mood for anything at all.

You haven’t been home for quite sometime now, the last time being the holidays and you normally just spend a couple of days before heading back to the campus, so everything really sucks. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

Donghyuck hears this from Jimin, of course, because your roommate called him as soon as she heard you crying from your room. He literally carries you out of your room, says grieving is better when there’s food.

As soon as you see the person standing behind the counter, you recognize the place right away. Although located in a different street now, nearby where you are, the place looks exactly the same from when it did years ago.

“Y/N! Donghyuckie!” the lady behind the counter greets.

“Oh my,” you squeal. “Auntie, I didn’t know you’re back in business! How long has it been?”

The new owner, the late owner’s eldest daughter, smiles at you and tells you they re-opened sometime this year. She tells you to find a seat and confirms she knew your order by heart.

Donghyuck sits across you. “You like it?”

“Why did you not take me here sooner?”

He smiles. “Supposedly on your birthday a couple of weeks from now. But with what happened today, I guess this is the best time.”

“You’re the best.”

It’s Jisung and Chenle who find you and Donghyuck by the pool area hours later. Donghyuck had completely fallen asleep on your shoulder. The younger ones help you and practically carry Donghyuck towards the car.

Jaemin and Jeno have left the venue so they could prepare for their flight the next day. You hadn’t paid much attention to the time when Donghyuck drunkenly approached you. Jisung tells you it’s already two in the morning.

Chenle tells you Donghyuck had broken up with Lia—the reason, he’s uncertain—which is why she stormed off from the reception and Donghyuck decided to drink his ass off while you were wandering around the place. You shrug, acknowledging the news like it doesn’t make your heart race, like it doesn’t give you some sort of hope you didn’t know you had stored, and tell them they should take him home.

Jisung says Donghyuck lives on the other side of the city, so it’s best you all head back to Chenle’s.

Jisung and Chenle share the latter’s bed, and you’re not going to let Donghyuck sleep on the couch after he had complained about his back hurting when he’d fallen asleep on the floor the other day, so it’s only right that you let Jisung and Chenle carry him to your bed.

When you wake up on the couch the next day, Donghyuck’s shoes are no longer by the doorsteps.

His footsteps are loud.

“Donghyuck, this isn’t going to work if you don’t fucking give me a chance to explain!” You scream a few feet behind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck is running away, and you’re beginning to think that convincing him to go to the gym might not have been the greatest decision because Donghyuck is literally sprinting, like he’s being chased by something so terrifying.

You almost stop. Donghyuck, who always called him home, never ran away from you all these years. Not, it looks like he’d rather be anywhere but where you. Nothing feels worse than that.

You’d just gotten back from your internship in the US, one more term and you’re graduating. The internship was easily the best thing that’s happened to you this year. They were already thinking of offering you a contract as soon as you graduate. They let you go back home, of course, to complete your degree, and said they’d be willing to keep training you in the states and have you relocate to Europe once you graduate because they’ll be expanding their business out there.

It's also the night of Donghyuck's first showcase, the first show he's headlining along with musicians and artists from different universities. You had promised Donghyuck you’d watch and support him, but things doesn't always go on your favor, because as soon as you’d landed, you were needed back to the campus for an interview for the university’s publishing team because they wanted you to talk about your experience alongside the others who went to the states to complete their internship. It was supposed to be an hour session, but you and everyone in the panel liked the questions they were asking, and somehow you felt like this was a sign that the company in the US could lead to better, brighter things for you.

Hence, you were late. Halfway through the show. Donghyuck got mad, but promised he understood. He asked for some space, at least for the rest of the night. But you wanted to apologize properly, to take him out for dinner even if it's already past midnight, and insisted that you should talk about it. Donghyuck refused, you kept insisting, until the former said something about you being a shitty girlfriend.

It’s a shitty excuse, but you were absolutely fucking tired. You’re still jetlagged from the 16-hour difference, and the entire session with your fellow interns took two hours of your day.

What you had left for the day was so little, and you chose to spend it with Donghyuck, but he decided to be an ass about it.

"I never said anything about being your girlfriend," was your dumb reply, which is why you’re now running after him from the building of Chenle’s condominium.

You pull Donghyuck with force as soon as you catch up with him, and you’re faced with your worst fear.

Donghyuck is crying. He’s never cried before, not because of you. A deep painful breath comes out of your mouth, and it hurts when you breathe, like inhaling a cloud of smoke or being hit by a ball in the back. Donghyuck keeps crying, doesn’t even hide it. He sobs and heaves and he doesn’t wipe his tears.

"Donghyuck, can you just—”

“I’m tired,” Donghyuck sobs. “Y/N, I’m so tired. I sound pathetic and I’m not sure if I’m exhausted from the performance or I’m just done with you.”

“I’m sorry,” is all what you could come up with.

“This,” Donghyuck says, gesturing the small space between you. “I don’t think it’s worth all of the pain I am feeling right now, Y/N. You’re my best friend. I—I, fuck, I used to think that maybe someday this will all be worth it, but I am tired of waiting for that day. I am drained and you have consumed all of me. I waited for you, and I keep waiting until you finally just—let go and decide you want to be with me and stop playing this never-ending game of friends with benefits bullshit we started. I’m done. What else do you want from me?”

“I—I… Donghyuck,” you stutter. I want you to give me a chance. I want you to give me more time to figure some things out myself. I want you to wait a little longer.

"I rejected Ryujin a week before you came home,” Donghyuck confesses. "When you were in the states, and you suddenly changed your mind about being my girlfriend and told me I should go out and date other people and that I shouldn’t hold myself back, I was angry. I didn’t understand why you were pushing me away so much when I’m here!”

You stay still, crying.

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I’m here and I love you, and I’ve never asked anything in return. And you tell me you love me, but you do things that—that hurt me. Every time I think we’re finally going somewhere, you—you push back and I’m just—I’m sick of it. And Jaemin said I should just move on if you can’t make up your mind because I don’t know if you haven’t realized it but Y/N, we’ve been at it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jeno and Jaemin set me up with Ryujin,” he continues. “We went to a couple of dates. And then you called me saying you’re coming back home. So, I broke it off before we even got started. I told her it would be unfair if I kept leading her on when I know that I am still ridiculously in love with you. She said it would be alright and that she's giving me all the time and space I need to think about things."

Donghyuck curses and continues, "But I didn't need time and space, Y/N. Because I already knew that all I've ever wanted was you. I didn't need to think. I only needed you."

You don’t know what to say. You’re still holding him by his arm.

“If you're not going to say anything, let me go,” Donghyuck sternly says. You have a feeling it’s not the grip on his arm that Donghyuck is talking about. “Please.”

The single biggest mistake of your life happened on the third street from Chenle’s place, under the broken streetlight, across the ice cream parlor Donghyuck used to work at when he was seventeen.

You let him go. Donghyuck stops waiting.

The wait from the audience was long enough.

They say your graduation day is going to be one of the happiest moments in your life. It’s not. Not at all.

Not when you’d gotten your diploma on stage and Donghyuck shows you he doesn’t give a fuck by looking everywhere else. Not when it’s picture taking time with your friends and families and he decides to stand on the other side, far, far away from you. Not when his parents ask him to take a picture with you and he shrugs it off and says he’s hungry and that he’s meeting everyone at the restaurant, leaving with his entire family.

Renjun whispers, “Does he even know you’re leaving first thing in the morning?”

You shrug it off, too. “Looks like he has other things to care about.”

Jaemin sighs. “You’re not serious about this, are you? You and Donghyuck better pull your shit together. Both of you already ruined the moment for everyone.”

Renjun eyes him. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to listen, then so be it.”

“It’s not Donghyuck’s fault either,” Jaemin defends. “Because he’s been trying to get answers and you wouldn’t give it to him. So, I don’t think it’s his fault that he’s done.”

“We’re not picking sides here, Jaemin,” Jeno says. “Let’s go.”

Jeno and Jaemin sandwiches you in a tight hug.

The next day after the wedding, in the afternoon, the newlyweds are bound to France for their honeymoon. They’re traveling the continent for two weeks (unfortunately, London excluded from their itinerary), and all of you decided to drop them off as if they’re leaving for years. In your case, this may be the last time you’re seeing them for a long time.

“I love you,” Jaemin says as the two very strong and buff men hug you. “I know things have been tough and coming back here took a lot from you, but thank you for making sure you were present during the wedding.”

“I hope this isn’t the last time in another four years that we’d see you in person,” Jeno adds. “We miss you, you know? Please come visit us when you have time.”

“I love you two so much,” you cry, emotional with the way they’re holding you. “Go have fun.”

They bid their goodbyes to everyone else and enter the airport.

“If I don’t get the same treatment when I leave, I’m ghosting everyone,” Mark announces. Jisung laughs. “What? You all acted like they’re going away for two years. They’re coming back in literally and exactly two weeks!”

“Go be unhappy somewhere, hyung,” Donghyuck teases, making everyone laugh as you all walk back to where their cars are parked.

Chenle needs to go back to work, so did Jimin and Jisung, hence they ride all together. Minjeong’s visiting a friend, so she’s riding with Mark and Renjun because they’re all going to the same side of the city. Which means, Donghyuck is driving you back to Chenle’s place.

“Your flight is tomorrow, too, right?” Mark asks. You hum, nodding. “Come visit me in Vancouver sometime soon, too. Or I’ll fly to London.”

“Wow, you have a lot of money to spend on flying around the world multiple times, huh?” you tease.

“Hey, you’re the frequent flyer here,” he comments. “Wonder how many miles you’ve earned and redeemed from all this flying you’ve done in this lifetime.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”

Renjun and the others bid you goodbye. You’re not really certain why you and Donghyuck silently agreed to watch your friends leave, you and him standing a foot away from each other as they all drive away. For some reason, it feels like the last time.

The first time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s an accident.

You were drunk, and it had been a while for the two of you considering how busy you both have been because of finals coming up. It was convenient, if you say so yourself, to have your best friend right beside you when you were feeling hot and horny. The morning after was settled with a kiss on your forehead—no apologies as discussed, because neither you nor him regretted it anyway, but there’s a promise that nothing changes.

The second time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s not going to be a one-time thing.

“So, to make it clear,” you huff as you quickly get rid of your pants while Donghyuck pulls his shirt off. “This isn’t a one-time thing.”

“I don’t see an issue if it’s not,” he replies, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, pushing you against the wall and kissing you down your neck. “Besides, we’re best friends.”

You lean your head against the wall, thinking if it’s too late to back out, but Donghyuck’s already has his hands all over you—one on your breast and the other on your waist. It’s not really that bad of an idea. Donghyuck is your best friend, and your friendship has withstood time, distance, growing pains, and mostly everything. And perhaps it’s the way you haven’t stopped thinking about your first time together that’s making you feel so, so vulnerable under his touch, but it’s not like anything’s changed since that night. In fact, if you’re being completely honest, it made you feel like you and Donghyuck know each other better now—in ways that other pairs like you don’t.

Hence, whatever thought you had a minute ago, you throw it down the drain and you let Donghyuck (messily, heartedly giggling) carry you by hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and bring you back to his unmade bed.

Donghyuck knows how to use his tongue, and you’ve kind of always known because all the girls he’s ever slept with talk about him like he’s a god of tongue or something. Donghyuck licks your lips before diving in, as if he’s giving you a taste of what you’re about to have, and he pushes his tongue in, massaging it with yours, and it almost feels like he’s teaching you how to use the muscle in your mouth. You realize how much he likes kissing, because he kisses more than he touches. He kisses you for what felt like hours, and you’re not about to complain about it.

You let him gently drop you on his bed. His warm palms caressing its way from your waist down to the side of your thighs where he knows you like being touched the most (and you’re not certain whether he’d learned this from stories or from the time you and him had sex); Donghyuck keeps his mouth on you as he rubs circles against your hot skin.

The finger he slips between your underwear and right above your clit sends you shivers down your spine. He allows you to catch your breath for a second, moving his mouth from your lips down to your neck, but doesn’t give you enough time to recover because he rubs your clit oh, so gently.

“We’re best friends,” he repeats, murmuring the words against the skin on your neck. “Nothing changes, except now I know where to touch you.”

He does. He touches you everywhere and slips his middle finger in your hole, sighing against your skin when he feels how wet you’ve gotten simply from kissing.

“You’ve always been such a good girl for me,” he whispers, keeping his finger inside, his palm pressed against your clit. “Such a good girl. Wet and ready for me. You really are my best friend.”

“Donghyuck,” you whine. He starts rubbing from inside, moving a single finger in an upward motion, eliciting a moan from you.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You are. You are my best friend. I don’t think everyone can say they let their best friends fuck them when they’re horny. Which makes me the best best friend, too. Because I fuck the brains out of you when you’re horny. Aren’t we the best team the world has ever seen?”

Donghyuck slips another finger in—easily, because nothing can describe how we you are now. He tongues the skin on your collarbone, licking and tasting and smirking all throughout, then he fingers you properly. At this point, your underwear’s stretched from one thigh to the other.

Donghyuck likes to tease you, and you know this because he massages the inside of your hole in a swift upward motion before pulling his fingers out and slowly filling you again. He does this slowly, then fast, then slowly once again. The explicit sound of your wetness makes him chuckle, leaving your collarbones and using his other hand to pull the left cup of your bra down and goes in. He bites and nips and licks and sucks your breast while he fingers you stupid—legs apart, shamelessly wet and fucking ready for him—and you take everything he gives you.

He doesn’t make you cum though, because Donghyuck is Donghyuck. Nobody is more cunning than him.

But he doesn’t make you wait. As soon as he feels you’re about to cum, he slips his fingers out and rids himself off his own underwear, then slipping the last two pieces barely hanging on your body.

He fucks you dumb. Raw. All his glory and skin. You have no other words aside from that.

He doesn’t wait because there’s truly no need to adjust with how wet and ready you fucking are. He’s big, but Donghyuck knows how to fuck well. He knows how to prevent discomfort and he’s done a very good job at proving that to you.

He fucks you missionary, and usually, this isn’t something you’d opt for. You like being fucked hard with no sense of affection and all that bullshit when you’re stressed and in need of some kind of relief. But with Donghyuck, it’s heavenly despite how sinful his hips snap.

He fucks you. Again and again. He makes you cum twice before he pulls out and spills himself on your stomach.

He kisses you, giggles at the way you’re dumbfounded, cleans you up, and lets you sleep on his bed as though nothing has changed.

Because nothing did. Nothing ever will.

“Funny how things have changed so much in the last four years, huh?” Donghyuck asks, eyes on the road.

Donghyuck’s said he’s driving you home. You haven’t been in Seoul in four years, but the route he’s taking is definitely not the way to Chenle’s.

“We’re taking the long way home,” he interjects when he realizes you’re looking at the GPS on his car’s tablet. “There’s, uh, heavy traffic on the usual way because of some road construction. And you’re going back tomorrow. You haven’t really gone around the city, so I figured it’d be a good time.”

You hum, looking at him with a small smile.

“Sure,” you buy. “It feels like only yesterday you were driving a beat-up Hyundai. Now, you’re all fancy.”

He chuckles, turning as his car speeds through the bridge. “Well, many things have changed since you left.”

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: Seoul’s horizon running like a movie as he drives, smile soft, eyes bright.

“I’m sorry,” you brave up.

It takes you great courage to say it out loud. As best friends, you and Donghyuck had always said “thank you,” and “I love you” openly, and in countless of occasions, these words have healed scratches made around your friendship. Rarely you and him would ever say you’re sorry. The only time you can remember apologizing to him was the night, a few weeks before graduation when you’d just returned from the States after your internship. That sorry barely made up the wounds you’d caused.

At this age, you understand why saying sorry wasn’t normal for you and Donghyuck. You and him were inseparable. You were soulmates—are if you can bravely say it out loud. Your bond is stronger with him than anyone else, and you’d always believed that nothing could ever come between you and him. Like the decisions you’d made, nothing changed until something did. And when things changed, you and him had no idea what to do. Because as far as you can remember, you and Donghyuck remained constant, like a routine, a bible with a comprehensive and cohesive series of stories that’s never changed. So, when feelings got in between—denial and pining and confusion—neither of you had any idea how to handle it.

Donghyuck was bold and brave. You, on the other hand, had no ounce of courage to give it a try.

He only smiles. “A few years too late, don’t you think?”

You nod. “I know. Do you accept my apology?”

“If you buy me ice cream,” he answers.

“Done,” you say, smiling back at him. “I was scared.”

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on the road. “Of?”

“That I’d come back to Seoul and see you married with kids and all.”

“And what’s so scary about that?”

“Because it would mean I’d thrown away all the chances the universe has given me.”

Donghyuck looks ethereal like this: in a suit, smiling as he watches his bride walk down the aisle.

“Take care, yeah?” Renjun whispers as he hugs you.

Mark’s Dad and Mark himself are waiting for you outside. As most of your friends have gone home to their families after graduation, with the exception of Renjun and Jisung who spared some time today just to see you off, Mark volunteered (his dad) to drop you off the airport.

“I will,” you say, burying your face into his chest. “Any word from Donghyuck?”

Renjun pulls away and looks down. You know the answer.

“It’s okay,” you answer, mostly to yourself. “He’ll call me back soon. I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mumbles.

The only call you get before you enter the gates is a drunken one. It’s Donghyuck.

“I hate you,” he grits through the device. “And I never want to see you again.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” you confess. Donghyuck keeps his hands on the steering wheel. “Because you’d said you never wanted to see me again.”

“And I sent you messages you never received,” Donghyuck says. It surprises you. “Because your Korean number was no longer active and you’d blocked me from everything at that time.”

You smile, wondering if you had a little bit more understanding—if you had waited a little before deactivating your old number, if you had given it some time—would you and Donghyuck end up together in the end? If Donghyuck hadn’t been drunk the night you left Seoul—if he’d taken a taxi before you boarded the plane, if he’d just said sorry back—would you and him have gotten into a relationship right away?

Regret, just like grief, makes you feel things like this. They make you wonder what could have happened, if it would’ve given you the same, awful outcome, or if it would take you to the happy ending you keep dreaming about.

“Funny how we had many things we couldn’t say despite us being best friends,” he comments. “And you agree that many things have changed in the last four years, right?”

You hum, looking out your window, watching the horizon blur in motion.

“Donghyuck-ah,” you whisper, eyes still on the moving horizon. “The only thing that hasn’t changed for me.”

“What?” he asks.

“You,” you say. “You’re the only one that hasn’t changed for me. You’re still sharp when you need to be, but gentle where people you love need you to be. You’re still beautiful like the day I had realized I loved you. It wasn’t shocking, though. That day. I wasn’t all too shocked that your newly-dyed pink hair was the eureka moment for me. Because I knew all along. It was more like a flick on the wrist rather than a surprise. Like it’s always been there. The pink hair was just a reminder.”

Donghyuck stays quiet.

“And I say this like I’m hoping I could go back to four years ago and try harder to apologize,” you continue, tears already brimming your eyes. “But I guess we needed this, Donghyuck. We needed to grow—sadly—apart. And I feel like, no, I know that I wouldn’t have gotten to know myself better if we didn’t grow apart.”

“Yeah,” he speaks for what seems like a long time. “We were—you were right all along. We couldn’t just risk it all for a relationship. I had offers left and right even before we’d graduated, and you.”

You look at him. Donghyuck’s eyes are carefully still on the road, but his gaze is soft, eyes shining from the tears welling up.

“You were made to see the world,” he says, and it breaks you like glass. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I were the reason why you don’t have the life you have now. Because it wouldn’t have worked. I love you, and I just know that at that time, when we were young and all, I wouldn’t have let you go work abroad. The few months you spent in the state for a mere internship already shook our friendship in ways we didn’t expect. What more if we had been in a relationship?”

“Donghyuck,” you sniffle. “I love you. And it hurt. And I’m sorry it us this long. I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“Stop apologizing. Y/N, I would’ve let you go eventually,” he confesses. “Because I love you so much that I’d be willing to let you go if it meant you could soar.”

The sun sets in the horizon the next time you look out your window.

Donghyuck keeps one hand on the wheel and shows you the other, palm up.

You take it with courage.

And you. You look beautiful like this: dressed in white, smiling as you walk towards your groom. You best friend. Donghyuck.

488 notes · View notes

paradiseinaverno · 2 years

Note

Reader is a human and is oblivious to Morpheus's feelings for her?!?

in your dreams

aka; gn!reader being completely oblivious to morpheus’ feelings

thank you for the ask ! as always, lowercase intended :)

headcanons, morpheus x constantine!reader, established contact, slight plot derision, heavy miscommunication (idiots in love basically), GENDER NOT SPECIFIED !

oh you silly, oblivious fool. the both of you.

in fact, morpheus should become despair, and you? denial. utter delusion.

despite having strings of passionate love affairs, morpheus is perplexed by you. the seduction has never been hard for him, only the longevity. but he can’t even reach that.

he supposes he should be somewhat grateful, as he won’t come on too headstrong. on the other hand, however, he wonders exactly how much effort he has to put in to win you over. and morpheus has never shied away from a romantic pursuit, especially not when it involves his ego (which, in fairness, it always does), but you are…something else. that’s why he likes you. you’re so different from your sibling; where she’s perceptive, you practically live in daydreams.

and that is precisely where he begins his pursuit of you. in your dreams, as you say to him. morpheus begins by making everything softer, brighter. both you and your sister are chronic nightmare sufferers, as you’ve mentioned. so, unknown to you, he keeps nightmares at bay. not this time, he chides them. not this time.

it’s the first night you get a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

you suspect it has something to do with him, but you brush it off as impersonal. even despite johanna’s prodding, you think it’s probably because the sand has been returned.

“i’m telling you jo, it’s nothing.”

“well he didn’t make my nightmares suddenly vanish. next time you see him, tell him i have a bone to pick with him.”

“there won’t be a next time!”

deep down, you hope there will be.

on the other hand, it’s been at least two weeks of pleasant dreams, and morpheus’ patience is wearing thin. surely for someone of your intelligence, you’d realise it has something to do with him? fine. maybe he just has to be more obvious.

he starts by physically appearing in your dream. slowly, though. tactfully. there’s roses along the meadow you’re dreaming of tonight. maybe it’s just you, but you swear you can hear some type of slow jazz.

it takes you at least twenty minutes (if the dreaming even has a linear concept of time) to notice him. and when you do, it’s only because he has to shuffle to get a better view of you, and you’re slightly perplexed by the swath of black fabric against such a vibrant pink background.

“oh! it’s you!”

finally, he thinks. “it is. and you, y/n? how are you?”

“i’m good. i’m not sure if this is actually you, or if you’re just me. still wrapping my head around this whole thing.”

“i am quite certain that we are separate. it will take time to adjust, but i am sure you will. you have quite the mind.”

you flush. “thank you. oh! actually, i had a favour to ask.”

“anything,” morpheus replies, instantly. there’s a softness in his voice that makes you almost melt. he, on the other hand, is elated. such intimacy, already? perhaps his worries were for nothing. he’d quite literally grant you the sun, if he could (though he doesn’t have the best experiences with those).

“could you perhaps get rid of my sister’s nightmares, too? in her own words, she ‘has a bone to pick.’ if that’s not too much?”

ah. not quite the favour he was thinking, but if it makes you happy…

“of course. i will see to it myself.”

you smile at that, and morpheus feels a warmth in his chest that he hasn’t felt for a long, long time.

“thanks, man. i appreciate that.”

you physically cringe. man ? there are seven ways you can envision the ground swallowing you up alive, and the only reason it doesn’t is because of morpheus’ presence.

meanwhile morpheus himself is inwardly despairing. ‘man’ ? either humans have changed entirely, or his seductive skills are at a miserable low.

thankfully, you’re saved by your alarm blaring through. you wake up in sheer agony. so bad, in fact, that you lie in bed for another twenty minutes quite literally saying prayers to every deity you can imagine. you’re atoning for some sin you can’t even think about. what the hell have you done to deserve this?

whilst you’re busy despairing in the waking world, morpheus is slumping against his throne in the dreaming. despair must be having a brilliant time, he thinks.

it takes both lucienne and matthew’s combined efforts to pull him out. giving the lord of dreams a pep talk? never been on the agenda, but he feels remarkably better after matthew assures him “maybe they’re just shy!”

so morpheus does something he’s never done before.

he consults human dating books. oh, so a ‘light touch on the arm’ is still popular. matthew tells him to try a more extroverted approach.

“why can’t you just tell them?”

but the lord of dreams is a prideful creature, though he’d never admit it. why should he go to them?

underneath that is a piercing fear of rejection, of being alone again, especially after the burgess incident. but that’s for later.

morpheus even consults death. his sister has a wonderful track record of being good with humans.

so, armed with flowers, and newfound knowledge of “tenderness, morpheus. be tender and warm,” he shows up at your door.

when you answer, you’re delighted, though you try and hide it, of course.

“hi again - oh, are those for johanna? she’s out at the moment, unfortunately, but i can pass a message on if you’d like?”

he blinks. “no, they…they are for you, actually.”

your eyes widen in surprise. “for me? what’s the occasion?”

he looks at you, so deeply that you almost shudder. there’s something…tangible about his stare. something that looks like restraint. “there was no reason,” he almost whispers. “i just thought you might like these. they’re often in your dreams.”

you could melt right there. he saw your dreams? personally?

but of course he did. he’s quite literally the lord of dreams. he sees everybody’s.

inwardly, you recoil, too caught up in denial to continue even thinking about any possible advances towards you.

“that’s…that’s really nice of you. thank you. would you like to come in?”

but before he can, you hear a car pull up. johanna’s home. and you love your sister, you truly do, but just this once you wish she hadn’t been home on time (which is a rare occurrence of it’s own).

morpheus, on the other hand, looks distraught. he’s practically on the verge of tears as johanna approaches, and though you remind him the offer still stands, he bids the both of you farewell. much to matthew’s chagrin, of course.

“nice one, boss.”

johanna teases you about the flowers, but you brush her off.

“it’s probably just appreciation. you know, because of the sand?”

your sister’s had enough. “you’re utterly hopeless, you know that? and so is he.”

“who?” you ask, absentmindedly.

“your sand boyfriend.”

“he’s not my boyfriend!”

oh, but how he wants to be.

in fact, morpheus has all but given up, until he sees one dream that particularly intrigues him.

you’re dreaming, again. you’re dreaming, and he could fall to his knees in relief when he realises that you’re dreaming of a romance movie.

it’s pride and prejudice. and the only reason he realises this is because he was there for its publication, of course (and because there’s been a strange influx of austen-adapted movie dreams lately, for some reason).

but it’s the scene that intrigues him, where darcy is walking up to you, in this case, and profoundly expressing his love.

how odd. he never would have pegged you down for such a hopeless romantic, but now he realises. he needs to be forward in his advances.

so he swallows your pride and shows up at your door the next morning, armed with nothing this time.

you answer the door hurriedly after hopping out of the shower, wearing nothing but an artfully wrapped towel, thinking it’s johanna.

it’s not. it’s a man (a man?) you are incredibly interested in, and you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and just a towel.

“could you…could you give me a minute, maybe?”

but morpheus’ usually formal tendencies have somehow vanished, and he protests.

“i need to speak to you.”

he barely waits for an answer, striding in. you practically run to shut the door, frantically looking around for something to preserve any shred of modesty you have left. that towel is slipping and you give yourself maybe five minutes before all hell breaks loose.

“y/n.”

“morpheus?”

to your utter horror, he launches into a speech you find all too familiar.

“-you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i-”

“were you spying on me?”

you’re seething. is this some sort of joke? does he mean to insult you? does he find humour in dreams that bring you some semblance of joy?

“i…”

“you have no right to peer into my dreams. that is personal. i don’t give a shit if you’re the king of dreams, you let me have that! let me live my dreams in peace!”

you’re all but yelling into his face, jabbing a finger into his chest. embarrassment is flaring into every atom of your being at the thought of him laughing at you. ridiculing you.

to your surprise, his own eyes burn in anger. “my apologies, but you are not exactly the easiest person to please.”

“to please?”

he groans. quite literally. the sound reverberates around the walls.

“do you have any idea how utterly exhausting it is to get in your mind? to try and win your affection? i have done everything. i have lost my dignity - i even considered asking desire for advice, all for you!” his voice penetrates into every layer of your body.

bashfully, you mutter, “why?”

if he could explode, he might have. you’ve both quietened down, a palpable tension between the two of you. the clock ticking dully is the only sound that fills the room for maybe five minutes.

“i have…i feel for you.”

“what? like pity?”

“no. listen to me. i feel for you. i have feelings for you. every moment i spend in your presence is a test of my restraint. there are no words for the boundless nature of just how deeply i feel for you. i am…i am half agony, half hope. say the word once, and i will leave you in peace. i will not interfere in your affairs, nor your dreams, again. but if there is even a glimmering semblance of affection for me, i beg you. tell me so. i cannot bear it any longer.”

oh.

you’ve never been good with words. it’s not in your nature; you’ve always left the negotiating, the diplomacy, to your sister. you’ve always been the first to act.

so when you grab morpheus’ face with your hands, eyes locked, you can feel in your gut that once again, your instinct hasn’t failed you.

you can practically hear relief filled in the sigh that escapes morpheus’ lips, a wordless plea pooling in his eyes, mouth begging to be savoured with everything you have in you. so tenderly, you press your lips to his.

it’s heaven. months, of pure restraint and long-awaited hope pour into the kiss, settle into your bones, wrap around the two of you. in fact, it’s almost like you both become one, so deeply are you melded together. kissing morpheus is like being filled with every star in the cosmos; like light and dark themselves, simultaneously.

when you finally break apart, you can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, and neither can he.

he looks at you eyes full of wonder, lips lightly swollen from the kiss. you’re wrapped in his arms, and his neck is woven in between your own arms.

“nice way to sneak austen in there, casanova. i thought the lord of dreams would have been original about that stuff.”

he pulls you closer, your head nestling into the crook of his neck. “i might have been very loosely inspired.”

you hum softly. “what a shame. you owe her an apology.”

morpheus shakes his head, and you feel a low chuckle build in his throat.

“in her dreams.”

——-

TAGLIST;

@liv-n

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know ! i appreciate all feedback. and thank you so much for all the love on my recent writes! it is heartwarming and i am so grateful to everybody! :)

-orion

#dream the endless imagine #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #dream of the endless fic #the sandman x you #the sandman headcanons #dream x you #morpheus imagines #morpheus headcanons #the sandman imagine

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azulock · 6 months

Text

I love this slut of a man, so have a continuation for my first post in this blog, just in time for the 100 followers milestone!!

summary. now emboldened by how you seemed to be enjoying his habit of sending you nudes, Oliver tries somethin riskier: sending you a video jerking off. what's that between friends, right?

pairing. Oliver Aiku x F!reader

wordcount. 3,3k

warnings. nsfw (minors back off), male masturbation, cumshot, just oliver being an exhibitionist

over the passing weeks you'd grown used to Oliver's complete shamelessness - and that's just what he wanted. when you never showed any sign of rejection towards his taste for sending you nudes, he just never stopped. and overtime it became like a habit - and he ventured to say he was getting better with a camera.

how often he'd send the pictures to you was anyone's guess. Oliver liked to maintain the surprise factor, but it also depended on how busy his schedule was. tho, you were guaranteed to never go much beyond a week without seeing him in all his glory - and oh, it was all glory.

although you liked to act aloof - something Oliver was used to already - sometimes you'd let it slip that you thought the sight was glorious as well. knowing you liked what you saw only emboldened him, making him feel like he could do more. and fuck, he definitely wanted to do more.

he'd been thinking of sending you something... riskier since this whole thing had started. from the first moment Oliver felt fully comfortable with this game - free to feed his exhibitionist tendencies - he'd wanted to inch towards something dirtier.

Oliver had been wanting for a while now to send you a video of himself jerking off. if you liked the goods in display on the pictures, might as well enjoy seeing them in movement, right? he just hadn't gotten around to it yet. fuck, he'd have to wing it this time around, wouldn't him?

(attachment: 1 image) good morning, guess who left the fucking blinds open again

the notification was the first thing you saw when you picked up your phone in the morning, right after waking up. Oliver started his day early, so this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. and you weren't about to complain, sometimes it was good to start the day with a little self love - and you were thankful when he'd provide the fuel for that.

when you opened the image, your eyes were graced with the vast expanse of a very soft looking bed, Oliver sprawled in the middle of the white sheets. the whole bed was lit by the gentle warm glow of the morning sun, his usual grin was replaced by a lazy smile, half lidded eyes framed by messy black hair looked at the camera from under heavy lashes.

Oliver had one arm thrown over the top of his head, the other laid alongside his torso, a massive hand "casually" scratching at his lower abs - exactly at the start of his trimmed happy trail. he had one leg straight and one bent to the side, covers bunched around his knees, giving you full view of his massive thighs and equally massive cock, laying heavy over the side of his hip.

not a Pulitzer level photo yet, but you had to give it to Oliver, he was getting pretty good with a camera. also, nobody should be allowed to wake up looking this good. the most surprising thing tho, this one message barely ten minutes back - guess even athletes are allowed a Saturday.

you giving the neighbors a show this morning, Oli?

when you noticed it, you had already sent the message. generally, you didn't dignify him with such a fast response - least you allow his ego to grow too big. guess you were just too sleepy to remember that today, or too distracted. the moment you hit send, you went straight back to the picture.

god, it was criminal of him to look like that in the morning, fucking bastard. quickly, you found your eyes tracing down the expanse of Oliver's abs to his cock, where it laid heavy on his hip. shit, even when posed near the massive girth of his thigh, the damn thing still looked impressive - veiny, long and extra thick.

nah, forgot this is the 15th floor, doll? nobody around to see shit

his answer came not even two full minutes after your text, Oliver really had no shame. dragging your eyes away from the picture - much to the dismay of your already clenching pussy - you dignified him with a response. you guessed you didn't have much shame either for entertaining him like this.

good thing, I guess. and you waking up late today, what disaster happened for that? hey, I deserve a break, wanted to sleep in more but as you can see... no luck oh, poor thing, was it the sun that woke you up? or that thing between your legs? cause that morning wood looking downright painful it is a bit bothersome, yeah :'(

immediately following the text, Oliver sent you a photo. if god picked favorites, today he was one, 'cause this timing was sent from the heavens. the moment your message popped in, he was just about to jack off to get rid of the damn morning wood. good thing he'd been too lazy to just straight up do it right after he took that last picture. well, he was gonna take the chance.

you looked at the notification with a smirk. he was feeling bold today, you'd never really gotten two pictures in the same day, let alone within minutes of each other. opening it, there was no surprise - but it didn't mean you didn't enjoy what you saw.

this time Oliver was sat up on the bed, laying against the back rest, plush covers pulled up to his mid thigh. the phone camera looked down at him, that sly smirk back on his face, although there was still some clear sleepiness in his eyes - tho, if anything, looking kinda groggy made him more handsome.

once more, your eyes follow the path from his broad chest, past his abs and down that devious happy trail. he has his large cock held in one strong hand, fist wrapping it snugly, but his fingers not able to fully meet around the thick shaft. you lick your lips, unconsciously clenching your thighs together at the sight. his dick was straining, veins prodding from under the velvety skin, swollen head looking reddish and angry. fuck, you felt ashamed of how much you found yourself wanting to taste it.

poor Oli, is it too sensitive?

you'd taken a couple minutes to answer, and Oliver was already biting his lip in anticipation, fingers flexing around the base of his cock instinctively. but the moment your message pops up on the screen, he relaxes again, fist lazily sliding up his shaft. you were teasing him, that was good, and in his book, it sounded like an invitation. you were playing into the game and all he needed to do now was bridge that gap, then he'd get what he wanted.

yeah, a bit, not gonna lie what you think I should do about it?

oh, yeah, he was definitely feeling bold today. you wondered for a second if you should play into it - the setup was obvious, but Oliver had never been one for much subtlety. you thought for a few moments if you should join into his scheme. you could imagine that devious smirk in his face, the one that was at the same time beautiful and rage inducing.

a part of you considered shooting him off right here, right now, but another hesitated. on one hand, there was allure to taking him down a peg, so his ego doesn't get too big. on the other... well, there was no denying that your body really wanted to see more of him. would it be so bad? maybe, you just wanted to see this through to the end.

hmmm yeah, you earned a break, you've been working so hard for the team, you deserve getting yourself some release put those big hands to good use I guess

hook, line and fucking sinker. you never disappoint, playing right along with him. Oliver should remember to thank his lucky stars, 'cause you were giving him all the leeway he could ask for. now to push the envelope, and deal the deal.

ah, some recognition is nice, thank you. I deserve a little fun tho, maybe I think you could watch~ if you think that'd be enjoyable ;)

there is a pause before you answer, one that feels too long for Oliver as he watches his phone laying on the soft covers. not that it's enough to dampen his spirits though, it just generates anticipation as his fist lazily glides over his thick cock, sending a shudder down his spine. shit, even if you shot him down now he was already too horny, that hard on wasn't going anywhere unless he made it.

maybe~

when Oliver doesn't answer straight away, you feel weird. on one side, it's good he isn't trying to make a video call, you don't think you'd be on the vibe for that - not yet. on the other, would he really do it? hell, what were you thinking, he obviously would. that bastard fed on showing off, much like a plant in the sun. so you decide it's for the best to leave him be now, dropping your phone on the bed and leaving for the shower.

you spend a good while under the running water - part of the time wondering how the fuck did you get in this situation. when you come back to your bedroom, almost half an hour after sending Oliver that text, you are met with a notification. and while it doesn't shock you at all, it still has you biting your lip in excitement.

(attachment: 1 video)

no text, just the video. throwing yourself in bed you open it, Oliver's voice filling your ears before you can even register the image on the screen. you watch as he adjusts the camera, chuckling and muttering an "oops" when he almost drops the phone.

you watch the image shift and move as he props his arm on one leg and readjust the phone so the camera angle catches from the top of his thighs to his head. dominating the foreground of the image, though, is his massive cock, encircled by a large fist lazily pumping up and down as he blows a kiss to the camera.

cocky bastard, nobody should look good from this weird downwards angle, and yet Oliver does. it's unfair, really. he tightens the grip around his shaft, grunting in the background of the shot when his thumb runs over the sensitive head, and you shudder, clenching your thighs unconsciously in response. shit, his hand was huge, and it still covered just a bit over half of his length. you can't believe your bad luck that you'd lost the timing to get ravaged by that monster of a cock.

Oliver starts off slow and lazy, shifting between tightening his grip around his cock to fist himself and letting his fingers glide over his length, tracing that sensitive vein on the underside of his shaft all the way from the base to the head. his tip is already glistening, precum gathering around it as he works himself without a rush - almost as if he doesn't have the most raging boner.

alongside the immaculate visuals, Oliver gives you the most sinful noises, grunting and groaning low and deep as his fist starts to slowly speed up. his voice sends shivers down your spine, electricity running straight down your pussy. you can hear his heavy breathing, sucking up air through his teeth when his fist squeezes hard around that gorgeous cock, the muscles in his abs tightening in response.

you don't even notice your parted lips until they start to feel dry, too engrossed on the sight of Oliver pumping his massive shaft to pay attention to anything else. you can see the precum leaking greedily from his engorged head now. every time his fingers squeeze near the top, more of the transparent pearly beads leak down from his tip to his thick fingers. the light from the sun catches on his skin, and it glistens from the liquid.

he takes in a sharp breath as his hand speeds up, the pooling precum making his movements easier. the image shakes for a moment before Oliver remembers to readjust his grip on the phone, darkened eyes meeting with the camera as he curses under his breath - his cocky exterior crumbling under the pressure of the building pleasure.

god, just from watching you can almost feel it, almost taste the salty precum on your tongue, sense the heat seeping from his heavy cock. it's like you could touch his tense muscles, tracing the bulging veins that travel down his strong forearms and into his large hands, straining painfully under the skin. fuck, it was unfair how enticing he looked, just downright sinful.

in the quiet of his room, all you could hear was a mix of his heavy breathing and the sound of his legs shuffling around the covers, out of view from the camera. your eyes could catch only a glimpse of his powerful thigh flexing as Oliver palmed the leaking head of his cock, smearing his rough palm with precum before wrapping his hand around his fat length again. he was moving faster now, aided by the copious amounts of liquid smeared around his heavy shaft.

Oliver was groaning as he pumped and tugged at his hard length in long strokes. his eyelids fluttered, hiding those beautiful dual colored irises that always made you swoon - though, you fought hard to never let him know. in the background you could pick the sound of his voice low and strained as he muttered something in Japanese, and although you didn't understand it, you could imagine what it was.

you watched intently as Oliver's chest trembled with a deep and animalistic growl, his hips bucking into his hand. your body shuddered, muscles tensing and reacting on instinct - that's when you noticed your lips were parted again, almost drooling this time. honestly, the view was hypnotic, you weren't even sure how long you had been watching, time had just come to a standstill. not that you minded.

you heard Oliver grunt, loud and needy, and your attention returned to the video. his fist tightened around his veiny cock, moving up and down faster and faster. the angle of the video had changed slightly, his face coming out of view, he was probably too gone to pay close attention to the camera anyway. his hips bucked again, and you could see his dick twitch in his hand at the same time a moan left his lips. he was clearly getting close.

deft fingers gripped his erection thigh, Oliver's large fist moving up and down at a voracious speed, his cock looking heavy and slick in his hand. his breath was ragged, tense panting, punctuated by loud grunts and deep, hoarse whispers in a language completely alien to you. fuck, it looked so hot, your intense gaze following his fist as it pumped faster and harder, working his throbbing shaft with desperation.

with a silent gasp Oliver thrust his hips into his fist hard, the image shaking for a moment before he fell back on the bed. he bucked into his hand again as a loud grunt left his lips, holding still for just a moment as his heavy cock twitched wildly, the first rope of creamy, white cum shooting from his tip.

his chest was rising and falling fast as Oliver pumped himself through his orgasm - it seemed long, even to you, his hips trembling breath coming in low groans. you watched mesmerized as rope after rope of cum spilled from his throbbing cock, shooting upwards before landing thick and sticky on his chest and abs, some of it streaming down his hand. fuck, that was a lot of cum, an obscene amount painting long streams of white all over his torso.

his hand milked his cock to the last drop, a long white string connecting the tip to his hip before Oliver rubbed his thumb over it, smearing his thick cum all over his swollen head. he was still panting, muscles still twitching from the intensity of his orgasm. fuck, this was downright pornographic - you were even breathing hard yourself.

you watched as Oliver's cum stained fingers let go of his cock with a satisfied hum. he stopped to breath for just a moment before adjusting the camera with a chuckle - his cock coming out of view as his face came into frame again. darkened eyes looked at you from under heavy lashes once more, the last thing you saw was Oliver blowing a kiss to the camera before the video shut off. shit, how the fuck do you even respond to that?

woah you were really pent up today, huh?

when Oliver saw your message, he had just come out of the shower, hair still dripping on his face and neck as he chuckled at the words in the screen. if he wasn't already used to your playful aloof behavior, he would have felt his ego slightly attacked. but by now he knew that if you really didn't like the video, you would have said way worse - you could be pretty merciless, he knew as much.

either way, this was the foot in the door, he'd get you to crack at some point. he had patience - and after, you were still in the other side of Europe, so this was the most fun your interactions could bring. with a shake of his head, Oliver slid his thumb over the screen, typing a quick reply to you before he pulled up a photo and sent it to you.

happy to see you enjoy~ and yeah, guess I really needed that (attachment: 1 image)

you opened the photo without even thinking, and your eyes were met with Oliver's face, a large smile lighting his features as he struck a peace sign. it could almost be sweet, were it not for how he was naked, muscular chest and abs stained by the white ropes of his thick seed. you can't help but chuckle at how cheeky the picture was - but he does still look hot.

cute~

there you go, teasing him again - not to say he disliked it, tho. but he could tease you too, and by this point he was still too high on his own actions, too emboldened to think too much through his words. well, after all you let him get this far, might as well step a little bit further.

you think? bet you wish you could clear that off of me

oh, he was feeling pretty daring today - a part of you wanted to make a mean joke about him being desperate, but you liked what you saw, and you didn't want to discourage him. besides, it's not like he was wrong, but he didn't need to see you say that, his ego didn't need any more growing.

oh I bet you'd love if I did that, huh? too bad you are still almost 2000km away from me, big guy oh doll, why do you torture me like this? but you are right, it's too bad, if you were here I bet I wouldn't have to use my hands

it was true, if Oliver could have a choice, he'd be giving you a far more hands on experience - but alas, you were on the other side of the continent. he would complain about it, but he wasn't just about to question his luck right now, least he lost it. besides, he was having too much fun for that. he'd take what he could have, and he'd milk it to the very end. but still, a guy could wish for more.

ooooh go betting, fuckboy, maybe some day you could just get this lucky don't tempt me with a good time, one day I might just show up over there ;)

shout out to: @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader

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buckactuallys · 28 days

Note

hi pia i'm thinking about heart eyes diaz again so "15. watching their oblivious s/o lovingly" spoke to me

frida my love! so true, it fits perfectly <3

[read on ao3]

When Bobby offered Eddie the spot on the 118, he fully intended for him to become Buck’s partner on the job. He picked him specifically for that, feeling like Eddie could be exactly the kind of person Buck needed to become the amazing firefighter he had the potential to be.

He also hoped they’d get along on a personal level too, obviously – his entire team is built on that hope. Eddie was supposed to fit with all of them, but Buck most of all.

Now, as he’s standing in the firehouse kitchen with a clear view of Eddie at the table, his chin resting on his hand as he watches Buck explaining something to Hen with big gestures across from him, Bobby can’t help but think that this all worked out much better than he could ever have hoped.

They’ve had their ups and downs – Buck and Eddie, yes, but all of them, really – but if that time a year or two where their team was splintering was good for anything, it was making it clear just how lucky they are to be working with this team. How lucky they are to have this family, at work and outside of it.

Eddie’s face is soft, almost tender, as he looks at Buck, who’s still focused on Hen.

It gives Bobby pause.

These two have had a special connection from nearly the beginning on, except for that short period where Buck’s irrational fear of being replaced translated to hostility. Since then, Bobby has watched them become friends, then best friends very quickly, and eventually, they grew into their own little family unit within their bigger family.

He’s aware of this, aware of how important they are to each other. How could he not? He’s seen them go through the worst and the best times together, seen them support each other, seen them grieve for each other.

He’s even seen this expression on Eddie’s face before, usually in flashes or from far away. Never as open and unguarded, so obviously full of love, without caring who sees it.

Bobby turns back to the food he’s preparing and can’t help thinking that maybe he’s missed one more layer of it after all.

So when, two weeks later, Bobby gets another up close look at the look on Eddie’s face while Buck is stumbling his way through an explanation for why they need disclosure of relationship forms, he’s not completely surprised.

“So we, uh, wanted to talk to you because– You see, Eddie and I, we sort of, um, realized recently,” Buck stammers, and all the while, Eddie smiles at the side of his face like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “That what we f-feel for each other, is, um–”

“Buck,” Bobby interrupts him gently. “Are you trying to tell me that the two of you are in a relationship?”

“Yes, he is,” Eddie says, and he’s still smiling at Buck, who doesn’t seem to have noticed. “We are.”

At that, Buck turns towards him and his face melts into a smile like he can’t help it.

“Yeah,” he says, without looking away from Eddie.

Bobby watches them smile at each other for a minute, fondly, but eventually, he clears his throat.

Eddie blinks and turns to him first. “Um, sorry. So, what forms do we have to fill out? And is there anything else we need to do?”

“We– We know there’s a married couple working the same shift at the 139, so we’re good, right? We can keep working together?” Buck asks worriedly.

“I don’t see why not,” Bobby says. “I’ve got a whole stack of forms I can give you to take home with you, you can bring them back signed on your next shift. Apart from that, it’s up to my recommendation. If I find that you can’t work together with appropriate professionalism anymore, then I can recommend that one of you is moved to another station. But you’re not in the same chain of command and I assume that your feelings at least aren’t all that new, are they?”

“They’re not,” both of them say at almost the same time, then smile at each other again.

“Then I see no reason why you shouldn’t work just as well together now that you’re making it official,” Bobby says, and finally lets the captain act drop with a smile. “So you’re happy?”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes. “Yeah, Bobby, we’re so happy.”

Eddie reaches for his hand and Buck grips it tightly.

“Disgustingly so, if you believe Christopher,” Eddie grins, and Bobby laughs.

“Well, I’m really happy for you. You both deserve happiness, and looking at you right now – well, it just makes sense that you found it with each other.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Eddie says, eyes bright.

Bobby remembers him sitting in front of him like this, but alone, adrift, scared. He remembers how worried he was that he’d never be happy.

And Buck – how lost he used to feel, never aware of how loved he already was by the people in his life, always chasing after the idea he’d built up in his head.

Well, it kind of makes Bobby want to congratulate himself for pairing these two up.

A year later, while Bobby is recounting the story of Buck and Eddie from his view at their wedding reception, his eyes keep straying to the grooms.

Buck is watching him with teary eyes and a wobbly smile that makes Bobby choke up a little, but Eddie is looking at Buck. He’s wearing that same tender, lovesick expression Bobby has seen on his face so many times by now, and he finds himself hoping that the wedding photographer will capture it in one of their photos, because he’d like Buck to get a good look at it.

He knows that Buck knows that Eddie loves him, but knowing Buck, it wouldn’t hurt for him to see photographic evidence of the naked adoration on his new husband’s face.

But he shouldn’t have worried, because when Buck turns to look at Eddie, his expression doesn’t waver at all. Buck doesn’t seem surprised to see it, either, so clearly he’s not as oblivious as Bobby may have thought.

Good, he thinks. Everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be, and better than he ever could have hoped.

He smiles and lifts his glass to finish his toast. “To Buck and Eddie. May you always look at each other the way you are right now.”

#thanks for the prompt <3 #buddie #911fic #911 #buddie fic #ask #leothil #frida tag #pia writes

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thewriterg · 10 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐀𝐛𝐜𝐬

pairing(s);hobie brown x fem!reader, hobie brown x male!reader

summary; you see the title!

word count; around 2k

warning(s); everyone mentioned is 19+, smut.

A/n;—GIFs; @cowboysfuck— The debates going down with the age of everyone in atsv has me shaking in my boots so just know Hobie is a good and legal yummy adult in this 💀

🕷️Aftercare

Being completely and totally honest, babe he’s not cleaning you up.

I know the truth hurts but we have to stop the lies :(

If you meet him at one of his sets or the pub something like that? He’s viewing it as a quick fuck

He’s. A. Whore.

I mean we all seen that slutty ass waist right!?

He’s ran through! 😔

but I’m gonna feed into just a little 🤏🏽

If you happen to be in a relationship/fuck buddies he’s definitely a little more caring

After you both finish hes spooning you pawing his loads back in your cunt when it begins to seep out while lying kisses and bites up you shoulder that will darken by sunrise

Or you’re on top of him your cock slightly twitching inside of him acting as a plug so none of your cum is leaving him hes definitely panting feeling so full of you you as your head rest in the crook of his neck him rubbing his palm over your head down the nape of your neck

He’ll throw the blankets over you both maybe give you some water from the water bottle that sat on his nightstand for a week

🕷️Body Part

Hobies favorite part of you isn’t a body part but your beliefs!

Everyone’s entitled to their own opinions he supports that much BUT

If you can have your own opinion and stand on it!!?

like could see the opposing sides argument take it into consideration and still go to war for your own personal value

On his knees.

He’s that one viral sound where’s its like;

“And I’ll be there for them. With open arms, open legs, and a open mouth 🙂”

Is definitely dropping to his knees to give you head in the next fifteen minutes no matter where

The wrap up of todays lesson he’s just not into shallow people

His favorite part of himself however is his hands more specifically his fingers

If he need to learn a faster tempo place for a song he’s trying to learn you’re going to be his study buddy

“You’re helpin’ me so much thanks lovie” He muttered his index and middle fingers working at a god like pace in and out of your holes beginning to work you up to three as you tried to blink the dots out of your vision moaning at a pitch

He finally got down the song <3

🕷️Cum

Anywhere on your body where he can visibly see

For my girls he’s definitely going for the boobs he’s a tittie man!

For the guys he’s still going for your chest/stomach area

Cum on his face!

Soon there will not be a drop left

hes gonna be that “I eat it all” cat meme

“Gonna c-cum on you’re pretty fucking face, you fucking s-slut” You’re groaning while he’s looking up at you with his big puppy eyes your clit bumping against his nose or when his mouth finally reaches the base of your angry cock whining against the length massaging your balls while being hard as a rock himself a puddle of pre cum resting on his abs

🕷️Dirty Secret

HES A SWITCH.

Goes perfectly with the whole not believing in consistency

I can’t picture Hobie sticking to one roll anyway 💀

I will gladly die on that hill alone if I have to I don’t care.

One day he’s bending you over in a alleyway forcing your hands on a brick wall muttering about how much of a fucking whore you are for dressing in that wife beater your nipple poking through the thin fabric and getting him hard

Next day he’s pathetically humping your loafer/heel under your desk while you have a meeting on your laptop above muffling his loud whine against your leg before you feel his tears on your leg when you shrug your foot away from his aching cock ruining his orgasm

Take this with a grain of salt if you please

But-

You can not sit up here and tell me him and his band members haven’t fucked at least once

This band specifically! Turn down your volume 😟

LIKE!?

that story however is for another day

He has a dick piercing.

A Prince Albert one maybe?

He did it himsel

“Feel tha’ cold ‘ittle bar in your pretty ‘ole?” He would groan pressing down on your abdomen where he can feel himself bottoming out of you before thrusting in deeper than humanly possible grabbing your jaw forcing you to stare into each others soul as he fucks you deep

🕷️Experience

He’s is/was a whore depending on your relationship

He’s ran through, passed around, fucked out.

Loves when you show you’ll always be his best though

“Can’t hear you speak up whore” You hissed wrapping your hand around his neck lifting him up causing his back to arch pleasure painfully as you stop ramming into his hole causing him to whimper as you cock/strap stills in him

“No one f-fucks me like you do, please” He’s whining pathetically moaning in relief when you continue abusing his hole tears slipping past his eyes down to his cheeks

🕷️Favorite position

#1 Missionary!

It’s where either of you can get the deepest

“Look a tha’ feel me in your fuckin’ belly?” He would groan taking one of your hands pressing it against your abdomen as his cock moves in and out of you slowly hitting you spot repeatedly with your ankles crossed against his back

#2 Spooning

Has a lot of lazy mornings of when he’s waking up hard

You happened to already have the same idea 🙀

(#1 somno partaking couple)

Hobie would whimper in his sleep as he felt something warm around his cock and pressure on his lap of you backing up into him wouldn’t wake up until about the third time you’d lower down

In the mornings/where he doesn’t really have a sense on mobility or surrounding is where you’d easily pull the most noises from him

“You feel s-so good, so good birdy”

He’s cumming quick.

🕷️Goofy

Other than like a crack of a smirk?

I’m not really getting a goofy vibe from Hobie

Probably would just tease the fuck out of each other

🕷️Hair

HE HAS A HAPPY TRAIL.

His hair down there is curly and coarse he’ll trim it every once in a while but other than that doesn’t really bother

Most definitely does not give a flying fuck if you decide to shave or not

“Maybe another night ‘bee I didn’t get to shave”

And he’s just like

🤨.

≥))≥

| \_

“Your point?”

🕷️Intimacy

The thought makes him cringe internally

He can get down with it though but it’s mostly saved for important dates like anniversaries, birthdays, achievements, etc.

If you aren’t that intimate of a person that’s even better

But sometimes just take the time out to pull him aside slipping your hands down his jeans and into his boxers gently stroking his cock running your thumb over his slit whispering about how proud you are of him

“You’ve been doing so well I’m so proud of you”

DIHERHBRRIDIN he’s brain dead you murdered his brain into mush

🕷️Jack off

Will when he’s on a mission that takes longer than expected will probably take a video muttering how much he misses you while stroking his aching cock

But something else?

He can be a good boy when he wants

Put a cockring on him tell him if he lasts all day he can get a reward?

Struggling hard asf but will not touch himself cause what’s better than being your good boy!? ‼️🦅

🕷️Kink

Probably almost everything in the damn book but here are his mains

#1; Praise/Degradation

Just the right amount of both driving everyone up the wall

“Look at you takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ champ, that’s wha’ sluts do isn’t that right?” He mutters flash light kissing your skin as he records you on his phone pushing the back of your head down on his dick as you gag around the bask saliva and precum all around your mouth and cheeks

#2; Slapping/Spanking

I’m getting heavy rag doll vibes

Will purposely get you rilled up and jealous before slipping away before you can reach him essentially a game of cat and mouse

when you finally catch him you’re grabbing him by the back of his neck to a bathroom or alleyway

“You wanna be a fucking whore I’ll show you what they get” You hissed and he’s more than aroused as you pull down his trousers him thinking he was about to get the roughest railing/fingering of his life just for you to land a harsh slap on his ass!?

Rock hard.

“Please ‘m sorry, please” Would end up crying cause it hurt yet felt so good

brain was foggy asf

When you deemed it enough for now you pulled his pants back up dragging him back to whatever function you were at ignoring his subtle gestures to get you both back to his side place

You force his ass to go sit tf down somewhere 💪🏽‼️🦅

Smirking like a mf when you watch him subtly groan feeling the distance stinging pain on his ass while trying to get through the conversation

#3; Being/having a cum dump

This is kinda icky for some people and I get it so read with caution ⚠️

Not only is he going to fill you up!? He’s going to plug you up .

Will literally make you go out all day with your cum in him

If you’re a spidey?

Will have your walking around the spider society looking a bit “bloated” little does everyone know you’re literally plugged with Hobies loads

Or when you’re at home will come behind you and rub his palms over your full belly

Feral.

But sometimes he need to be check so switch the roles

How this would happen is, he would talk big shit and place a bet of who was gonna cum first when both of you had a vibrator pressed against your designated places

He lost.

Would definitely try to hit you with that “I don’t believe in loosing 🙄” shit

But

A bet is a bet

And so

For a whole 24 hours both of you having to go on a mission that day he had dildo shoved up his ass

It’s very funny seeing him slightly limp when he walks as the fake cock sits snugly in his ass kissing his prostate at any slight turn or bumb in the road or when he turns the corner too sharply while swinging

by the end of the day HES DEAD.

would definitely do it again

🕷️Location

Boobs.

🕷️Motivation

When you hype yourself up or carry yourself with confidence!?

Hobies like

🗣️ “SIGN ME TF UP!”

Gets off on it so quick

🕷️No

This might be a little controversial and me self projecting but

Do not pull his hair.

His wicks are very delicate and as POC Caribbean native/Black to be specific not a big fan when it comes to messing with our hair

Scratch his back, slap him, spank him, choke him, anything else but pulling his hair.

🕷️Oral

Oral fixation

On some rough nights where he can’t sleep!? His moth will end up on your clit/cock

Is a Cock/Pussy drinker!

Holds down your thighs when you cum and he keeps going to keep you from retreating or bucking your hips

Gives head for his own pleasure tbh

🕷️Place

EVERYWHERE

Will fuck you anywhere and everywhere grinning like the god damn chesire cat

We’re gonna get more into this in ‘Risk’

🕷️Quickie

Absolutely

Behind stage before he goes on will without a doubt have you propped up against something fingering you at an alarming rate

“Gotta make sure my fingers don’t cram up yeah?”

🕷️Risk

What we’ve all been waiting for 🙀

You’ve probably fucked all over London and New York if you’re a spidey person lmao

One of the most jaw dropping places you’ve both had sex was probably the top of an abandoned building as the sun was beginning to set

“See tha’? Almost looks as pretty as you lovie” Hobie muttered thrusting his cock into your hole as your hands grip onto the railing moaning breathlessly before he groans from behind

Then probably an alley

“Shut up before you get us caught, but you would like that wouldn’t you?” You hissed your back pressed against the cold stone wall while Hobie thrusted into you hips bucking occasionally letting out a too loud whine

If you’re a spidey you’re really just talking because your senses would guide you to when someone’s coming or not

Hobie usually is able to sense it to but he’s seems too fucked out to even care

ONCE YALL DID IT IN A POOL BATHROOM!?

“Baby we can’t there’s to many kids around here”

Hobie is the #1 🗣️ “FUCK THEM KIDS” cheerleader

Does not, will not, still can’t not seem to give a single fuc-

🕷️Sext

Yes

You have made him cut band practice short more times he cares to count

‘3 attachments 1 video’ just something to get you through until practice is over <3

IS GETTING TF ON

Coming home to you with a pep in his step

He has and will send you videos of him jerking himself off when either of you are on missions or if you’re at work

“See how fuckin’ hard I am for you birdy? Cock misses you s’much we need you” You can hear his gruff voice cracking behind the camera as he strokes his cock running his thumb over his slit

He will send you whimper audios once every blue moon

anyways both of you guys are yummy!

🕷️Toys

Yes, yes, and yes

I have plenty examples already

So we’re just going to leave this as yes

…

Tbh he has a fuckin VARIETY

Stop I need to go now 😔✋🏽

🕷️Unfair

The biggest fucking tease ever

If you can keep up with him it’s for the greater good if you can’t, you must be left to the wolves 😖

One time you came home from Work/patrol tired as ever and he was on you the minute you were in the door

“Not tonight hon I’m too tired” You muttered taking your shoes off my the door followed along by your jacket etc

“I’ll do the work you can just flop down and star fish it out” You we static at the thought

Just for this mf to deny you at least four time before you fucking lost it flipped positions shoving his face in the mattress all tiredness out the window

“Said you were gonna take fucking care of me but since you wanna be a little whore we’ll see how you like it”

It was a long night

🕷️Volume

Hobie can be very vocal when he wants Mewls, moans, cries, whimpers, whines you name it

He knows his sounds get you off but sometimes he’ll be an asshole brat and keep them from you

But you’ll fix that shit up real quick I believe in you!

🕷️Wild Card

HIM AMD HIS BAND FUCKED/FUCKS.

🕷️X ray

He’s definitely a shower!

7.5 inches 8 when he’s hard

🕷️Yes

Mark him up

Hickeys, hand prints, bruises he needs it all

Does the same for you

Especially if you’re a spidey the bruises won’t stay long with your inhuman abilities

So y’all are running back to each other when they quickly begin to fade

🕷️Zzz

Hobie thinks he’s nocturnal

He’s not sleeping on the normal night so he’s not really sleepy on a intimate one either before he met you

Only time he’s really knocked is if he was in a subier space

Which he’s commonly in

So you’re putting him to sleep one way or another

💌💌💌💌

Oh wow funny seeing you here after two weeks 😅

I have so many drafts of my baby Hobs

Anyway if you could answer the poll down below much would be appreciated!

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brainrot #hobie brown x you #hobie brown smut #spider punk #spider punk smut #atsv smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #romance #fluff #smut #fem!reader #male!reader #gn!reader #i love you #geegeeisawhoreontherun #thewriterg #2023

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euphoricimagination · 8 months

Text

First Interactions

Feat. Oikawa, Kuroo & Osamu

Oikawa

Your friend has been bugging you for what feels like forever for you to go to see the volleyball team practice with her, and you have been denying it for the same time. It’s not like you didn’t know that you it school was one of the power houses in the whole Miyagi when it comes to volleyball, you did know that. You’ve seen them play, and you actually like them enough to go to support them in official matches.

It’s the amount of girls screaming what annoyed you.

You understand it, really, Oikawa IS handsome and has a flirty personality, it’s no wonder so many girls like him. But you’ve never been fan of loud places when it’s not in the appropriate place. On a real match? Sure, it makes sense to cheer loudly for them, but it was unnecessary loud on a practice match.

But still, your friend has tried so hard to convince you that you could at least accept once.

You were entering the gym, but since you didn’t come here often outside of PE classes, you enter the building through the normal doors instead of the ones leading to the viewing area. A big mistake from your part.

You could hear the sneakers running around, the loud sounds of the ball hitting the players arms. Seijoh versus a school named Karasuno. After a point passed to your team, you started looking for some stairs to get out of the floor, completely missing that the infamous Oikawa was about to serve.

A loud sound from his arm hitting the ball and a loud sound from the ball hitting the court was enough to make you look that way. Just on time to see the ball coming directly at you with an ungodly speed and force. You hear some screams your way, but couldn’t make up what they were saying to you, you were only able to lift up your hand right before the impact.

Before you realize it you were on the floor, your wrist hurting so much that you couldn’t even scream in pain. Your ears were ringing, your eyes were watery; yet you could hear sneakers getting closer and some shadows appearing in front of you. They were moving their mouths, but you couldn’t make up any sound until someone kneel in front of you, making you sit properly while holding one of you arms.

“Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?” you finally were able to process, your vision less blurry helping you make out the brown hair and worry eyes of the perpetrator of the serve. A bunch of the players looking at you with worry

“My…my wrist” you say. At that Oikawa takes your wrist on his hand carefully, making you gasp in pain

“She should go to the infirmary, Oikawa’s serves are strong for a normal person to take” one of the coaches say as the players quickly start to disperse to resume the game

“I suggest Shittykawa to take her there. He hurt her, he should do it” said the spikey black hair dude, hitting the back of the Captain’s neck when he complained “or I could always punch you”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take her” Oikawa says, helping you up carefully “Let’s go”

The walk towards the infirmary wasn’t long, but it was awkward to the say the least. You knew he didn’t hit you on purpose, yet you didn’t know what to say to him. Once there, the nurse instructed him to hold an ice package on your wrist for a few minutes before bandaging it up, so you both stayed in silence sitting there, you in a horrible pain.

“I’m…I’m sorry” he finally says “I did saw you there, but I didn’t thought the ball will go directly at you. I’m still working on controlling that serve”

“It’s okay, I guess I shouldn’t have enter that way” you also say

“No, it’s totally my fault” he lifts up his head, looking at you with a small smirk on “if I didn’t knew better I would think that you did this just so I could hold your hand”

“You are full of yourself, not everyone likes you, you know?” you defended yourself, hearing him laugh

“And yet I’ve seen you in every match I’ve played” he smirks again, making you blush. He has noticed you multiple times, something about you always makes his eyes find you even in the largest of crowds. Maybe it was because you absolute indifference towards him in particular, maybe it was because you solely seem to focus on the sport, but that was enough to spark some interest in him.

“Me liking volleyball has nothing to do with you” you say blushing

“Sure…Let’s have a fresh start, okay? One that doesn’t involve me hurting your wrist?” he smiles at you, that smile that he gives whenever he wants something. And that something now was getting to know you.

After returning to the gym, this time entering through the right doors, your friends greets you excitedly, asking a bunch of questions about Oikawa. However now you’re with a hurt wrist and a promise to grab some coffee after the match finishes.

Kuroo

You were late.

You were on cleaning duty for your class today and were supposed to meet your classmate around 10 minutes ago to start arranging the tables and chairs, but something had happened in the subway and you had to go on a big detour just to be able to arrive on time.

You quickly took the school shoes out of your locker and put them on, getting it done on a record time in comparison of how you normally do it. However, is well known that speed can blind you from your surroundings, which was the case here.

Kuroo had arrived while you were getting ready to put your shoes on. On a normal morning he would say hi to you, after all his shoe locker was a mere few rows away from yours, but he saw how quickly you were doing your things. Honestly, he didn’t even knew that your locker was near his. He had see you around more than one more time, walking to your classrooms, on school events and such, and he honestly had thought more than one more time how pretty and elegant you were; however, since he has captain duties early in the morning and until late in the afternoon, he hadn’t found the time to properly greet you.

Until you bumped into him.

Once you were ready with your shoes on you immediately turn around to run towards the classroom; however, instead of finding a free corridor, you only found something sturdy in your way, crashing directly on it and almost falling if it wasn’t for some arms wrapping quickly around your waist. You look up to find out that you had bump into the chest of the one and only Kuroo Tetsurou, the captain of the volleyball team that was making noise not only for his handsome looks but also for how smart he was. When did he got here? How did you not noticed? Those were the questions running around your head.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you arrive” you say apologetic, only to receive a light laugh and a big smile

“No problem! Be careful though, speed is a curse, it narrows your view and makes it harder to breathe” he says, stabilizing you before letting you go “what are you even rushing for?”

“Eh... I’m late, I’m on cleaning duty today” you manage to mumble, still in shock

“Late? It’s 7.15 and classes start at 8.45, I would say that’s plenty of time to get your class ready” he smirks at you, which grows even wider once you realize the time.

“Ah” it’s the only thing you manage to say, it turns out you weren’t even late. This only makes him laugh louder

“Well” he starts saying as he stops laughing “since you’re here already and I could probably bet you didn’t even had breakfast, want to go and grab something from the convenience store with me?”

“Ehh…sure, why not” you say quite embarrassed, chuckling at your own mistake “I’m Yn by the way”

“Kuroo Tetsurou” he smiles at you widely “next time take things slowly, okay?” he says as he waits for you to change back your shoes. Sure, he had to be at the gym by now, but he could arrive late once in a while for occasions like this.

Osamu

Your day has been getting worse and worse by the second…or at least that’s what it feels like right now.

First thing in the morning you somehow managed to get your locker confused with someone else’s, almost getting into problems when a teacher find you there. Then you received a bad grade for a test that you actually did study for. And now that it’s lunch break you made one of the Miya’s fan girls mad by simply existing.

Well, being in the same class as Miya Atsumu has always been full of squeals of girls, random confessions throughout the day, and an unbearable amount of random gifts sparse through the floor; so in a way you were used to being around those type of girls. Today, however, your teacher decided to pair you up with the famous Miya.

It’s not like you didn’t like Atsumu, despite his cockiness he’s actually quite nice and even caring; which showed when he approached you during lunch break and sit with you when he saw you alone in there. It was a great gesture, you knew that he did it so you wouldn’t be left alone, and you knew that he didn’t know what the implications for that may be.

His fans were staring at you like you were the most disgusting person ever.

This lasted until Atsumu had to leave to some quick meet up with his team, when one of those girls decided to drop her water on you ‘accidentally’. This leads you here, outside of the school grounds and in front of the vending machine trying to buy a goddamn coffee to feel some comfort through this horrible day. But of course, the machine decided to not work this time, it didn’t even gave you your money back. Nothing could be going worse today.

“Fuck!” you cry in despair, kicking the vending machine to release some of your lock down emotions

“Hard day?” you hear from behind as you lay your forehead in the cold machine

“Horrible” you whisper without even looking back

“I saw my brother talking to ya through lunch, did some of those stupid girls did something to ya?” you hear, making you curious about who was talking to you. The other famous twin was looking at you in a mixture of confusion and empathy as you turn around and lay your back against the machine

“Yeah, but honestly the whole day has been awful” you admit to him “and now I can’t even drink coffee”

“Ha! That machine has some weird tricks on it” he says, moving closer to it and carefully moving you aside. He puts some coins on it and press the button hard, the sound of the drink going down as he puts more money to buy something else. Right after he hands you one of the drinks, the coffee you tried to buy, not before opening it up for you “Ye’re Yn, right? I’m Osamu, my idiot brothe r has said some things about ya, how ya were a good classmate and all”

“Yeah, that’s me” you drink a sip of the warm coffee, finally some comfort rushing through your veins. You didn’t know if it was for the coffee or Osamu though “Thank you for the drink”

“Well of course, if ye’re having a terrible day I can at least offer ya some coffee” he says with a small smile. He has heard some things about you from Atsumu, however he recently started to notice you himself whenever you both go to the nearest convenience store to buy some food or when you pass next to him in the halls, always exchanging a snarky remark with his brother and a polite smile to him

“I can’t wait to this day to be over” you sigh

“Ya know, our captain just told us we don’t have practice today…do ya wanna go grab some food after class?”

“Food? After class?” you say incredulous

“Yeah, that way ya have something better to look forward until the day is over. It’ll be my treat too”

You look at him surprised at the sudden invitation, and honestly, a little worried as well, he also had a lot of fans here. However he was right, this day has been one of the worst ones so far, so why not take this opportunity to go out with this boy?

“Sure” you smile

“Then look forward for that instead. See ya” he says leaving, a smile on his face too.

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fawnpires · 1 year

Text

HOW TO DISAPPEAR. — CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: after a failed attempt at a date, you unexpectedly find yourself in the hands of comfort of your dormmate, (also known as your captain.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: bits of angst, age difference, comfort sex, body worship, praise kink, soft dom!price, vaginal fingering, size difference, size kink, just a whole lot of filth, grinding, overstimulation, daddy kink, missionary position, reader is described as feminine (descriptions of feminine clothes, anatomy.)

Provided with an interval of short respite, you find yourself in a situation; one that you would've never expected to end up in, much in similarity to a fly tangled in a spider's web. You in contrast to the fly, you're meet-up date the spider. As weird as the analogy was, it was the best description to fit whatever you were in. Drifted mid-thigh dress, Mary-Jane platformed heels, and an elegant touch to your appearance — a noticeable separation between your standard uniform attire and skin constantly caked in dirt and some drying blood originated from a concluded expedition. You'd been granted permission to be let off base for the night, just for this single opportunity.

A few miles away from base, in some settled town, there you stood in front of an entrance to a restaurant. Lip of your bottom lip chewed from your top row of teeth, the stinging cold of the wind blowing directly at your face each time you watched either sides of the sidewalk for the man. Sparks of anticipation raged at your chest in hopes for him to arrive.

Fifteen minutes, then thirty, then a hour. A second passing of that first hour.

You leaned up against the tile of the building, slumped and at a loss of confidence of him showing up. Perhaps it was the unsolicited consequences of your actions, having been warned by your peers days prior. Cautionary pieces of advice on how the guy could be a complete fraud — you having been fallen victim like the many other girls he had in the centers of his palms, tearing their hopes down and slaughtering their hearts apart. Naivety had got the best to you for this — immediate regret flooding.

A majority of guys were assholes. That was that, nothing more. Nothing practical, and no explanations to further expand into the subject matter. They possessed the kind of crudity, a sense of vulgarness that was nothing but mere torture — burying their teeth into people most sensitive to vulnerability, dismantling of their emotions. Warning signs came at you all at once and you do what you do best; be entirely oblivious to it, look past it and push on with your romanticized scenarios of the worst.

You had a terrible habit of doing that — being unsophisticated to new things. You loathed it, and wished you could overcome it but somehow; you just never do, never learn from your own tragedies. And it had just happened again on this particular night, one full of hope and keenness, now drained out and wrung of it. On the surface, you’re a solely normal girl. But if someone were to really reach down and observe your mentality in this moment, oh, how corrupt they’ll view you as. Corrupted. Heartbroken.

A deeper chew into your lip distracts you. From the tears that are right about to drip from your glossy eyes, that is. Another distraction is the bone of your thumb sliding across the screen of your mobile, alternating between multiple kinds of screens — waiting for a singular apology, some kind of notice from the man. The sight was humiliating to be in position, to you, at least; slumping at the wall of some restaurant, on the brink of the tears just because of one guy who wouldn’t give his presence to you. Fucking humiliating, you think, peering at the void of screen — sauntering away from under the restaurant’s porch and onto the sidewalk.

Chime.

Through a glassy vision, you examine the illuminated screen; white and blaring with a single slab of a message punctured right in the center. You're quick to press an index finger to the message, an eagerness — not too hopeful, not too built-up — risen to your chest. Right, don't get that eagerness up. If you squint through the pooling tears, it's not a formatted text, but a single photo attachment right in place of the chatroom (blurry resolution, a presumed accidental send right to you).

While you look more into the attachment, it just garners more and more of your attention. Nothing of the real world is real to you. Only that specific file.

You feel a swell of more humiliation rush to your face, bleeding of a scorching warmth while more tears just threaten to fall down your already-stained cheeks. None of it was a pleasure to see — a girl in the image pressed up against him — shoved right to your face. Jealousy wasn't the correct terminology, but provoked? That definitely was. Processing the image, a new message forms right underneath it — as if more of your reality couldn't come crumbling down within this night.

Wrong person, didn't mean to send.

His message makes you delirious, nearly driven to the borderline of hysteria — because, fuck, was he a jackass.

Found another girl, much prettier than you. You're nothing but an easy whore, easy to please, I never wanted to meet up with your slut ass anyways.

The final message of his shreds your heart to pieces, a pile of shattered fragments while the text replays in the back of your head; easy whore, slut ass, amateur insults you've heard frequently — but it clings to you so easily, weighing you down like a pathetic mass that is near-impossible to rid of. With a combination of pathetic weight, degrading names, and your heart burst into portions — you could only help yourself to cry; silently sob into the heel of your palms while you speed walk up the slope of the sidewalk. Sweaty, ruined, and teary-eyed — who knew you were so easy to break with a couple of shaming messages and a stood-up date?

By the time you've practically hiked up a few couple of roads and hills, the pain of the route wasn't the only thing that was causing a repeated ache in yourself — a reminder to never wear heels to a faraway date. Mascara ran down in gray-ish streaks with your pristine tears, the sniffling of your nose amid the quietude of the nearing midnight. The structure of base comes into view, a few windows of light plastered onto the colossal build; it's an abnormally comforting sight, one that you've grown used to — you could consider it home, somehow, in a strange way.

Carefully, quietly, you enter through the roofed front entrance and curve the usual course to the third floor — where your shared room was located. The halls were quiet, dimly lit with a disgustingly bright light of a tinted yellow. Some rookies were outside their doors chatting, greeting you as you somberly walked through the halls with a depressing greet back to them; through the sorrow, you still had conjured up formality. Weakly, you push on the solid matter of your dormitory room and close it behind you — the hallway light no longer spilling on the insides, shrouding you in a darkness that can only be eliminated with a glimpse of moonlight peeking through the curtains right between you and Price's mattress.

Staggering over to the edge of your own bed, you slouch down and tore your platforms off, legs to your chest while your face pressed to the patches of your knees. Aware that your captain had been knocked cold in a deep slumber a few feet away from you — you give an attempt to muffle your cries that were increasing in volume, some even gliding through the attempts and into the atmosphere. Just as you were about to give up as a whole to even try to lower your noises of misery; a lamp clicks on, filling the room with a burst of a glow, Price is positioned in a half-laid figure — muscle-tight white t-shirt, visible gray sweatpants under the thinning of his blanket, a mess of his darkened brunette hair, and his thick beard aligning the strong outline of his jaw.

He squints, then widens his eyes up to the sight, elevating more of himself up to where he sat on the edge of his bed — strong legs dangling off the cliff of the mattress.

"Christ, kid," His voice raspy, as if it ran across gravel, "What time did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago." you reply, still teared.

A smidge of concern is what he indulges himself in; the concern of your circumstances, and oddly enough — your own wellbeing. His eyebrows crook downwards in consideration, hoisting his athletic build off his bed, and he wanders over right to the own foam of your mattress. The foam right next to you slumps, heavily and in weight, his eyes delayed right set on you before they settle on his lap where his knuckles fold in a form.

"Thought you would be home much later. Tomorrow," He utters, thumbs twiddling in circles. "- And apologies if that's a bit intrusive. But-" he interrupts himself, sure that the topic would be too uncomfortable to speak on with a sudden upbringing, changing up. "You're crying, you're home early, so somethin' must've happened."

It was a polite nag — and it was unusual for your superior to show such sympathy right to you. Eased, you touch up on with his eye contact. He's not afraid of the embarrassment of staring, unlike you; damning yourself for being so meek. And you instead focus on the small wrinkles that touch at the skin around his cobalt irises with white, the stubble of his heavy beard, and the straight line of his pressed lips.

"I don't want to..." you trail off, impassive. "You know, put too much on you. It's way too late anyways, past midnight."

"Enlighten me." he assures, leaning to close more gap of space.

On his word and permission, your nails dig into the flesh of your exposed thighs under the skirt. It was sweet of him to offer a session of consolation, you thought — even if the slightest mention of the sensitive-touched subject was sufficient to your heart recycling that intolerable ache of shattering. But you gave into the man anyways, pouring your all right into him.

"Guy was a complete asshole, nothing more." You started off with a cruel remark. "Stood me up at that place we were supposed to meet-up at... you paused to take a chew of your bottom lip to prevent the tears, then finish; "...then he called me a whole load of nicknames — slut, whore — after he sent me a picture of him at a bar, with another girl."

His eyebrows no longer furrow, but slant in a condolence. The large palm of his hand rests at your back, patting at the cloth, while you couldn't help but bring yourself to embed your head into the white of his shirt — leaning yourself into him, both arms of muscle clamping around you and holding you tight. Tears inaudibly discolor the white cloth into a lighter gray, throat closing in on itself as it gradually grew harder to breathe.

"Sounds like a fuckin' slag to me," He melts into the embrace of your arms wrapping around his torso, tugging at his shirt. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am."

Sweetheart. Your heart throbs out of the ache, in a sheepish flattery at the term.

"John?" You ask. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

You pull yourself away from him, but keep your arms wrapped at his torso and your head at his shoulder blade. "Why are you being so nice to me?" the question of yours drags further on. "- never seen you this sympathetic to the rest of the rookies."

"Rookie? You aren't no rookie, kid." He said, taking your hands in his and keeping your wrists imprisoned in fists. "I can promise you that, you're considered one of the elite." he confesses, "And whatever that bastard told you is entirely wrong. He doesn't know you, really know you — he doesn't know you like I do."

Tension bred between you and him. With this input tension, he almost seemed like a whole new hollow of a person. Peculiar man. His words had an undertone of possessiveness to them — you didn't know if it had intended, or it had just came out in a way that you took as wrong; but it was wedged right in there, it had to be. In the juncture, he wasn't your superior, your ordering captain of an intimidating identity and wielded of firearms — but a man. A real, authentic, man clustered into a realistic wheel of pure emotions that you've grown a strange bond towards; like a quickly-developed bond out of the warfare.

He's a distraction. A pleasant distraction. Him and the conversation steers you away from your provisional depression, deteriorating it down to the backgrounds of your head. And you love it — every single minute that it consumes; and you love the way one of his hands palm at your thighs and brush up-and-down at the skin. Your hands in which encircle at his torso now rest at the front of hist chest, balling up the thinning fabric of his shirt, a breath hitching at his touch while you lean back by a few inches as both palms are now resting at your naked thighs.

One of his rested hands come to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in to feel his heavy breaths on the skin of your face. You alternate between his drowsy eyes of full lids and silk lips that bare only a minimum view of teeth; before you know it, those pairs of lipped silk on your own — finding purchase in clutching his shirt harder, more compulsion. His remaining hand at your thigh snakes to your waist during the kiss, manhandling you onto his lap. Your legs dangle off the sides, hands cupping at his face and pressing fingers into the scratch of his beard.

No longer a distraction he was but ashamed. Wanting to break off those plush lips of yours; resign off his position as captain, never to catch you in his sights again. But he just couldn't, devoted to entire being and after months of eyeing you around the barracks and missions — he had you right where he wanted you, pretty little thing right on his lap, the curve of your neck bent to slope your head down to press your lips to his.

Nothing wrong about it in these areas of pleasure, at least in his own set of minds.

He admires your anatomy through half-lid lenses; how your shut lashes curled to the upper section of your eye, the soft nudge of your nose to his, the exclusive shape of your face. His cradling hand favors almost the entire expanse of your head, locks intertwined between the slits of his thick fingers. Smacks of lips and grinding, a stir of unadulterated ecstasy, currents of shocks running along your spine — you worship everything about it, because it's a kind of a one-time thing, so sparse — quickly paced, (Although from now on, it might be something more of a complete thing with him).

"Never told me how good you could taste, darling," he rasps between kisses, "- and to believe you've been hidin' this from me all these months."

A few pants puff from your lips to his. "Wanted to, but didn't know if you wanted it."

"If I knew it felt like this, then I'd damned myself for not giving it a shot."

"I've wanted you for long." your words drag into a whine.

"Yeah? How long have you, honey?" he inquires, kissing along your jaw to give some breathing space in the mean time. "Want to hear you say it for me, come on."

You bite your lip, tilting your head back to grant more access for his lips to implant themselves on your flesh. "Even when I was still messaging that guy," you gasp on your words when he bites at your neck, tongue lapping at the mark. "I couldn't help but think of you. Pretended it was you telling me all of those dirtiest things, calling me your sweetheart, your girl..."

Your revelation stuns him back, kissing a particular patch of skin harsher when the words choke out from you — your hips grinding rougher into his crotch, hands on his chest tugging at his shirt, back formed in an arch.

"You never really wanted that man, didn't you?" he asks.

"No... no," you heave with your thighs squeezing together. "I guess I was just lonely, desperate to have someone fill the space where you should've been."

"Oh, you'll have me," he withdraws slowly, hands rested at each of your hips while a tensed eye contact returned, "Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours."

The next scene, his fingers trail down to your thighs once more — only this time they venture further, caressing the inner sections of your thighs from underneath the flow of your skirt. A whimper stifles in your throat; how long he’s waited to hear those noises. Those pretty, personal noises of yours.

His thumb rests at your clothed clit through your panties, a shock running up your spine at the contact. Your hands link around his neck, legs on-instinct spreading wider while on his lap. The thumb at your clit begins to rub small circles — and being no longer able to confine any noises or movements, your back arches in an impossible curl while you slant your head backwards and allow more of those pretty noises to tear from your throat. A feverish sensibility runs to your face like blood through veins, the rest of that heat flowing off of right into the surrounding air — nostrils continually crowded with the aroma of sex and his masculine scents of spiced cologne and puffed cigars where you tucked your head at the dip of his neck; face pressed into the side of his.

Thick fingers skate past the waistband of your panties, a gasp at the cold fingertips settling on your folds; moving ministrations collecting in rounds at your founded clit, middle and index finger prodding at your cunt — slamming into the sweet abyss of your cunt with a final maneuver; one that you've fabricated scenarios about in a wave of indignity established.

"John-" the whine of his name was cut-off when those fingers of his began to pump up-and-out of you. Your body grows frail, limp on his lap with only his one hand on your hip supporting you while the other was occupied at your cunt. "Feels s'good..."

"Yeah, doll?" he tilts his head to get a better look at your face of pleasured contortions, "I assure it'll be much better when I have you on my cock."

Your head tilts backwards using nothing but the air as a leverage, mouth agape; a range of sounds breaking free of the raw barriers of your throat. The concept of a ‘better’ sensation had caused your body to writhe under this every touch, a non-infectious fever messes at your head as your body does all it can do as of now; submit to him as if he were still under the title of ‘Captain’ out on the fields of war, putting you right under his controlled commands.

Price angles his head to where the point of his nose pokes at the heated flesh of your cheek, lips ghosting over the structure of your jaw. He pins ghost kisses over your cheek, then your jaw, flooding you over with an affection while his fingers worked their ways inside your cunt. The contact has a sting to it, almost like a prick of a needle — a burning, elating sensation against you that died down to a more soothed feeling.

The addition of two fingers thrusted up inside of you and a thumb rubbing in quick motions at your swollen clit matured a coil in your lower abdomen; sensitive and swirling in a dragged-out pleasure that was dying to be released of its own prison where it stood in place. Your mind was blank — full-on buzzed static and a memory like a cleaned slate; entirely drunk on wherever he chose to touch you, whether it was a small grasp of your waist or a rough motion to your the throb located right between your thighs.

Your skin had been wholly flushed of sweat and caused the material of your dress to stick to you, a pre-arousal starting to leak around the length of his fingers. Your chest heaved with each hefty breath, eventually diluting to shorter breaths that were practiced in shorter durations. The tips of his fingers never failed to press at that soft spot of sensitivity, a low moan or whine played each time he did press up at it.

You gather some composure to form words, stuttered and whines but perceivable enough to recognize as the spoken language.

“John- I’m gonna cum, feels s’good,” you whine.

He stares, languid. “I’m not stopping you reaching your own pleasure baby,” he whispers, continuing to ghost his lips against the bow of your jaw and the warmth of your cheek.

His permission was the maximum to send you over that long-awaited cliff of ecstasy; a glowing, flashing beam of white depicting of your eyesight. Your legs had extended themselves more in width at the overwhelming wave of rapture which brushes over your; back arched in an impossible hooked curve, nails digging through his shirt and leaving crescents into skin behind. A surge of your arousal bursts around his fingers, that still proceed to thrust into your cunt despite your orgasm already at its peak.

Your eyes twitch at his fingers through your orgasm, your fingers wrapping at the wrist of his moving hand. “S’too much, daddy, can’t do more…”

“Daddy, huh?” he questions, even shocked himself at the sudden term you use for him, “Never knew you were into that kind of shit, sweetheart,” his last sense of morality slips away, a carnage urge running through the path of his head. “But I gotta do this, get you all ready for my cock.”

He gives you a couple more of short, quickened thrusts into your cunt before he slides his drenched fingers out of you — a whine from your lips at the loss of contact that once filled you, kept you full and at ease. The hand rested at your hip travels to your back, easily handling you off his lap and gently tossing you back-facing the mattress. His hand of drenched fingers are slowly pulled in with the use of your fingers wrapped at the wrist, taking the digits into your mouth and lapping at your own personal taste.

“Christ,” he breathes, taking admiration in the way he stares at you while your tongue wraps at his fingers, “Fuckin’ minx.”

The clutch you have on his hand loosens up after you lap up the final remains of your taste on the pads of his fingers — now only coated in a thin layer of saliva. Price can only manage a gruff chuckle, eyeing his fingers before he can position himself between the space of your spread thighs; that had extended out for him without the need of a single order given to you.

You practically knew what he would’ve wanted of you in this situation; spread out those legs for him, exposing your all just for him.

He takes the time to quickly tug the white of his shirt over his head, an exhibition of a sculpted chest littered with some hair; glistened with sweat and glossed over in some shine. At this, your bottom lip tugs at your teeth and you raise an arm up to each strap of your dress — pulling the light-weighted item down your shoulder and down to your knees where your legs assisted with kicking the rest of it off. The both of you sat there, half-naked; a bra, panties, sweatpants, and boxers the only forms of shelters that was wedged in between from the final stage of being bare and intimate.

His fingers next work at the waistband of his sweatpants and rag it down along with his boxers — in some way, it was animalistic, like he was in some desperate need to get everything off in order to finally be inside of you, (Which was exactly that). You peel your panties, doused of a previous arousal, down your thighs and discard them onto the floor to be forgotten of. Focusing, you rested your head on a more elevated surface on the pillow for a better perspective — the perspective of his cock that hovered over your stomach; larger than average, a few prominent veins that ran from his base to the dulled head, and the pre-cum that glazed over the slit. A fist pumps at his cock a few times.

The sight was erotic — the absolute condition of the situation erotic. Pornographic, even; the modest swaying of your hips, the flat head of himself now rested at your inner thighs, and a spitting image of a man straight from a seventies adult film at your own personal use — something about this was so utterly artistic and devoted. Your chest grows heavy with an excitement, numbed of intense heat. The bleary-lidded aspect of his eyes only can help to cherish over you like a sacred entity; an angel sent from heaven for his own keep.

"Can't believe that arsehole, lovie," he vocalizes while running the rough of his hands up your hips, taking compliment to the way your supple flesh dents and forms to his touch. "You're absolutely gorgeous, such a pretty lil' lady."

"Please," you whimper, flat palms digging into the fitted sheet which your clammy body lays under. "Can't wait any longer, daddy..."

The nickname on your pretty lips again pitches him off the last bits of patience, the hold your hips tighter as his hips ram against yours — a rapid, precise movement. The sensation of his cock filling your tender cunt up after months of indulging in the same day-dream had your back arching over the mattress, head absorbed in the fabric of the pillow, legs reinforced around his waist. The few sets of thrusts are slow and devoted, due to your tightness and essentially preparing you for more to come.

"You poor thing," he breathes out, slamming his cock into your wanting walls, "You've longed of this, haven't you? Must've been achin' so bad for my cock in your pretty pussy."

You're deprived of your words — any consciousness of your body — and only can help yourself to nod, admitting to his query.

Your saccharine moans and additional whines that he hauls from you are sublime to his ears; ones that he, shamefully, has speculated while inspecting you each time you would return back to your shared room — in addition to his times of isolation when nobody was around and off to their combat drills, his fist fucking around his cock with his head thrown back to the tile of the shower, grunting and envisioning your swollen lips taking his cock in like a divine sacrament. His eyes drift to your chest — a grunt tearing from his throat each time your breasts jolted with each slam of your hips.

He shadows his body over your own, chest of hair pressing to the softer mounds of your breasts as his lips press to almost every spots of your face.

"Could he ever do this?" he questions against your face, head rested in the on your shoulder while the leaned position he holds himself in causes his cock to pound into you more aggressively and deeper. "Could that prick ever fuck you like this, baby? Like a real man?"

"N- No!" you stutter, pressing your face to his neck and digging your nails to the flexible muscles of his naked back. Your legs stand out in the air and twitch every so often. "He couldn't... only you can."

"Mmm," he hums, pounding into your sweet cunt like a drill-hammer. "That's right, doll. I'll be the only man to treat you like this, to pull those beautiful noises that you hide from me."

Drool begins to collect at a corner of your mouth as he converts your brain to a mush of mess, body compliant and gone completely frail to the way he pounds you into the mattress. His hands slowly move from your hips to the hardened walls behind your bed, distancing himself up by a few inches as he pursues with more thrusts brimming of carnality. Relevant creaks of the mattress and the shared commotion of solid grunts and pitched moans reverberated at the slim, smothered walls that had grew moist overtime in the airspace of sex.

The head of his cock kisses at your cervix, each protruding vein branding itself in the clenched walls of your cunt. Your back sprouts an ache in the arched posture you holds yourself in — one hand coming down to your stomach and pressing on the area you feel his cock stretches you out from.

A broken gasp abandons your lips, arms stabilized up at your head and trembling. "John, mmph—" you get out, "S'too much, can't handle a lot more..."

"I know, darlin'," he said, "But all you gotta do is lay here all pretty and let me fuck you, simple as it sounds. Can you do that for me, pretty?"

You squeal when he gives a particular harder thrust into you. "I dunno—"

"C'mon, pretty thing, you can do it," Price said, breath full of cigar smoke, "Make me proud, angel."

Tears — not of sadness, but the sensation of being cherished washing over you and hitting you like a brick — paint your shot-opened eyes, only a silent nod agreeing to his words. He smiles, leaning to give you a kiss on your forehead before positioning himself back to your gleaming entrance; large hands strong on both sides of your hips, his upper-half slumped over you, your lower-half elevated and rested around his waist. The next collection of thrusts are fast, laced with precision as you feel yourself grow weaker, whines leaving your mouth with his more often occurring groans. Your inner-thighs grow soaked, body filthy of sweat and the remnants of your former orgasm on your skin that he caused.

Your entrance is slick, glistened with your arousal that had just started to form up. The noises of skin-on-skin escalating, and the strength he drills into you becoming overwhelming. With your smaller frame in comparison to his much larger, bulky build; you were bound to be left sore and aching after this. Your head has gone stupefied in every single corner — drunk of his cock and how it never fails to inch your closer to the final stage of pleasure that has you seeing heaven and blinded visions of white. A familiar coil in your stomach has more pressure added onto it with his flat palm still resting on it, slightly weighing down on the sticky layer of skin. You're beneath under him once again, much like how you did first on his lap, but more amorous.

The bulbous girth of his cock reaches barbaric speeds, providing you with no breaks in between — your desperate whines and pleads out to him cut short, delivered in incomprehensible babbles. Your legs are desensitized; back offered off of the bed as the two of his hands move to clutch your waist in a humane nature as if you were some doll, his hips paused right to yours and his cock nestled in the depths of you. Your fingers run up and down his back in brisk movements, nails slashing the tattered skin of declined battle scars. Warmth spurts right through your walls and washes over your insides in tints of white.

For a second time, the constructed coil in you loses itself, inspiring your cunt to spill while motionless at his cock and douse his rested thighs in your arousal. He slouches over you, plunging his frame down to rest against you. His chest meets right to yours; the soft, plush flesh of your breasts contrary to his more vigorous torso of hair furnishing the domain. The present force once at your delicate cunt is absent, pulled out, a final low whimper given rise to at the loss. Your nails remove themselves from the violent burial they give to his back, compressing your palms and stiffening your arms into him that was an embrace.

His head that rests at your shoulder turns to your face of a fucked-out expression, a chuckle from his mouth at the sight as his lips press sloppy kisses to your neck and face; a hum from your mouth at the softened contact of his beard scratching at your face. Whispers of praise and repeated cooes dive to your ears — quite inaudible since you were clearly still numb from sex. Sex that you played-out with your Captain, your superior. In a moralistic classification, such a relationship with a superior figure was inappropriate; putting you and Price at the risk of being ejected from both your positions, but it didn't really matter as of now.

As long as he devoted himself to you with his all, and you did the same for him, there was no wrongs. He was the one in command after all, supplied with a great amount of power over the Task Force.

He peppers your face in the traces of his lips. "You doin' better now, dolly?"

"Mmhm, yeah..."

"Much better than him, isn't that right?"

You give him a dopey smile. "Way better."

Price brings his hands to your hair, petting at the strands and locking your face in the scent of himself while he never falters to bring a kiss to whichever part of your face. "Yeah, I know that, sweet girl. Much better."

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Rodolfo x Alej's Sister

You've known him since you were a kid; he was always there at every family gathering and every birthday. He spent every weekend with Alej. At first, you hated him. He always pulled on your pigtails, made fun of you, and stole your toys.

When you turned 16, your hatred toward Rudy suddenly changed. He changed; he became nice to you, helping you with biology and physics exams, listening to your problems, and protecting you when Alej couldn't.

The night of your senior prom changed your view completely. You were going with Antonio to prom; you had been dating him for one year. You never knew your relationship would change on this day.

The first hours were perfect; he picked you up in his car, danced with you the whole night, and then rented out a hotel room for you both. You promised him this would be your first night together, and you did. The only problem? He left you straight after what you just did.

You didn't know what to do. You were left alone in a hotel room with no way to go home by night. You could always call Alej; you knew he would help you. Of course, you were fighting like siblings always did, but he loved you, right? But he would kill Antonio, and you didn't want to tell your big brother that you lost your virginity. If he tells Dad, it's over for you anyway.

So you did the only thing your mind could come up with: you called Rudy, while still crying over Antonio.

"What's wrong, Mi Amor?"

"How did you know something's wrong, Rudy?" You sobbed into the phone.

"You're calling me at 2 a.m., and you're sobbing. What's wrong?" Rudy said, his voice full of empathy.

"Antonio, he—"

"What did that pendejo do?" You never heard Rudy that furious. You were used to Alej or even your dad; they were hot-headed, but Rudy was always calm, which made him a bit scary. But this time, he was mad before you even told him what Antonio did.

"I... he... can you pick me up? I'm at the inn."

"I'm there in 5, Mi Amor."

He came to pick you up. He was always a great driver, and you felt safe. He always put on the car heater for you and didn't force you to talk.

"Do you want a stop at Chili's?"

You just nodded, and you went through the drive-thru, eating in his car, even if he rarely allowed food in it. But for you, he made an exception; he always did.

"He slept with me."

"Did you want it? Did he hurt you?"

"I wanted it, and no, he didn't physically hurt me."

"Physically?"

"He broke up with me after."

"I'm going to kill that pendejo."

"No, Rudy, it's okay. I'm stupid."

"Look at me. You're not stupid; you're an intelligent, beautiful, and hardworking woman."

"Thank you, Rudy. I just feel bad about myself."

"You know you're the most beautiful girl in the world, Mi Amor."

"Hm."

"Alejandro and I are going to enlist after our graduation."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, but I promise I'll bring your brother back safe."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

20 years later, you still remember that day—the day you fell in love with Rudy, your brother's best friend. Of course, you had flings and even relationships, but nothing compared to the feelings you savored for your Rudy.

He never married, though he got married to his work exactly like your brother, but at least you knew that they kept each other safe until

Rudy stormed into your house with one of the two spare keys you had. He was panting and shaking, and when you saw his face, fear crawled over you. Did something happen to Alej?

"Rudy, what's wrong?" but he was like in a trance, barely noticing you.

Rudy took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart before answering. "I thought about how much I didn't want to leave this world without ever telling you how much you mean to me." His eyes locked onto yours, and he could see the confusion and desire mixed in your gaze.

"Uhm, Rudy, why is something wrong?"

"I almost died today; I got into a fire. Alejandro saved me at the last minute." You almost forgot about his nice words; he almost died. You looked at him, scanning him for any visible injuries, and then you couldn't hold back anymore. If someone thought Alejandro had the temperament, they didn't know his little sister.

"No, Rudy, are you insane? You almost died idiot. You need to take care of yourself. I swear to you, if you die on me, I will pull you back from heaven to fucking kill you again." He loved that fire that occupied you, but right now he wasn't able to fight with you and enjoy your burning eyes, which he found so sexy.

He took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Mi Amor, please listen to me. I've loved you since the moment I saw you." Did he just confess to you? You couldn't believe it.

"I doubt that we were kids and you always pulled my hair."

Rodolfo chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, I remember being a kid and thinking you were the most beautiful girl in the world. And even as we grew up, that feeling only got stronger."

"Why did you never tell me? I thought you saw me only as the stupid sister from Alejandro."

"I was scared, Mi Amor. I knew our families wouldn't approve, and I didn't want to risk losing you or my friendship with Alejandro." He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Rudy I have loved you since the day you punched my prom date." You confessed remembering the night and the following day when the pacifist Rudy came with all his knuckles injured. You behaved like a medic till you saw Antonio with his broken nose, a blue eye, and an overall punched-out expression. He did this for you; he protected you, not Alej. You still scolded him for being foolish; he could have gotten hurt too.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he stared at you for a moment. "Oh, you did, huh? Well, I have loved you since the day I pulled your hair and called you an Ilorona" Idiot, but you loved his laughs and jokes. He was a calm man, and most people thought he was shy, but Rudy never was shy—never to you at least.

"Why now? What changed?"

He took your soft hands in his. "No, Mi Amor. It's because of how much I felt when I thought I was going to die. And it hit me then—all the years I've spent hiding my feelings for you—they were pointless."

"Your feelings were never pointless."

"I know that now, but I didn't before. I was so focused on what others thought and what our families would say that I forgot to listen to my own heart." He sighed, looking down at your hands before meeting your gaze again. "But I promise you, Mi Amor, "you couldn't hear it anymore; you needed to show him how much passion you felt for him.

"cállate Rudy and just kiss me already."

Rodolfo chuckled softly before leaning forward, his lips brushing against yours gently. "Always telling me what to do, aren't you?" he whispered against your lips before deepening the kiss slowly.

He felt the heat of your kiss, igniting a fire within him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as you explored each other's lips and tongues.

His heart raced with anticipation and excitement, finally acting on the feelings he had harbored for so long.

"It feels better than I imagined."

"I'm glad, Mi Amor," he whispered against your lips, nuzzling his face into your neck. "You feel so good. So right." He deepened the kiss again, lost in the sensation of finally being with you like this.

"What About Alejandro?"

"I'll deal with him later," Rodolfo replied, his voice husky from your passionate kiss. "Right now, all that matters is you and me." He continued to kiss your neck, trailing soft kisses down your collarbone before returning to your lips once more.

Rodolfo smiled against your lips, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you even closer. "And you're so stunning," he groaned, nibbling gently on your lower lip. "I've dreamed of this for so long."

"Oh, so that's what you thought about on your lonely barracks nights." You hated yourself for joking right now, but it felt so good and easy with him.

Rodolfo chuckled, trailing more kisses along your jawline. "And many other things, mi amor," he murmured, his hands slipping under your shirt to trace patterns over your soft skin. "But you were always in my mind."

"Rudy, you don't need to take things slow. I waited 20 years for this." You whined; you felt your body reacting to his; you were already dripping in anticipation.

Feeling your need for him, Rodolfo pressed you against the wall, his hands moving up to hold your face as he deepened the kiss. "I want to make this last," he breathed, his lips still locked with yours. "I don't want it to be over too soon.

"We have 40 years of this; please, Rudy, I need you."

Rodolfo's eyes darkened with desire as he looked into your pleading gaze. He couldn't resist any longer. With a growl, he picked you up, as if you weighed nothing. God, you knew he was strong, but wow. and carried you to the bedroom.

Rudy kicked the door shut behind you and laid you down on the bed, his lips never leaving yours. He was afraid that if he pulled away, he would wake up like in many of his dreams, but this was real. He finally had you and never wanted to let you go.

His hands roamed over your body, pulling off your shirt and lacy bra before moving to undo his pants. "I want you so badly, Mi Amor. I have been dreaming about this for years, and God, you are even more beautiful than in my imagination."

"I need you so bad, Rudy."

He growled into your kiss, and with one swift motion, he pulled off his shirt and pants, revealing himself to you fully. Of course, you knew how good he looked without his shirt, especially when Alej and he came over in the summer to watch football. But now that you saw him in full glory, you were amazed, his erect cock stood at attention. And you grabbed it, wanting to pull it finally inside of you, where it had belonged all these years. Where you rubbed yourself, moaning his name in desperation.

Rodolfo chuckled, pushing your skirt up and kissing your thighs tenderly. "Impatient little thing, aren't you?" He whispered teasingly before licking a line up your smooth stomach to your perky breasts.

His tongue circled your nipple, causing you to moan loudly. Rodolfo's cock throbbed with anticipation, aching to be inside of you. "You taste so good,"

He reached down and helped you remove your skirt, revealing your black lace panties underneath. His mouth watered at the sight. "Fuck, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he groaned, unable to resist any longer.

You giggled at his praise.

"Shh, mi amor," Rodolfo murmured, his hands moving up to cup your breasts. He squeezed them gently, eliciting a soft moan from your pouty lips as he began to trail kisses down your abdomen once more.

"I love you, Rudy."

"I love you too," Rodolfo whispered against your stomach before standing up. "Let me undress you completely." His eyes never leaving yours, he reached out to slowly pull down your panties, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you completely bare.

Rudy couldn't resist any longer; he crawled between your legs and kissed you softly at the entrance of your womanhood. "So beautiful," he whispered against your skin before licking you slowly, his tongue tracing circles around your hard and pulsing clit. Rodolfo moaned against you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue.

He could taste your arousal, and it only made him want more. "So wet for me, Mi Amor, you taste like heaven," Rodolfo grinned against your skin, his mouth watering at the taste.

He slowly pushed one finger inside of you, gently stretching you for him as he continued to lick and suck on your clit. "I love you so much,"

"I love you too."

Rodolfo's finger moved in and out of your needing hole slowly, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit.

He could hear you moaning his name, and it only fueled his desire to make you cum. "Cum for me, mi amor,"

Rudy groaned as you came, his tongue working hard as he tasted your sweet nectar. He continued to lap, making sure he got every last drop before slowly pulling away. "You are so breathtaking," he whispered against your skin, his fingers still inside you.

Small tears escaped your eyes; it was almost embarrassing how much you felt for this man. "No one treated me so good before."

His heart swelled at your beautiful words, and he kissed you softly on the stomach moving up to slowly kiss the tears away, "It's because you're my everything, Mi Amor, I could worship you forever. I'm sorry for not doing it earlier."

He pulled out his fingers, leaving you feeling empty. "Turn around." Rodolfo moved behind you, his hard cock pressing against your bouncy ass. He took a moment to admire your body again like he wanted to memorize every scar, every curve, and every birthmark of yours.

He reached around to stroke himself slowly. "You're so beautiful," he whispered again, kissing your shoulder blade. "I want to feel you."

"Rudy, please make love to me." You didn't say fucking or sex; these words didn't describe what this was; this was lovemaking, and you enjoyed every second of it.

Rodolfo shivered at your words, his cock twitching in excitement. Holding you against him tightly, he positioned himself at your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he penetrated you completely while kissing your neck lovingly. "I'm all yours, mi amor."

Rudy began to move inside you, his hips rolling against yours as he filled you. He felt like he was made for you; he wasn't too big or too short; he was perfect, filling you without hurting you.

The sound of your skins slapping against each other echoed in the room, along with your moans and gasps for air. "You feel so perfect. Rodolfo's thrusts became harder and faster, his cock hitting every spot inside of you that you desperately needed.

He reached around to grab one of your breasts, squeezing it as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "I love you so much,"

"I love you too, Rudy." You never were the person for words of love during sex, but this was something else you wanted to capture his love and hide it inside of you forever, never letting go of him.

As he approached his climax, Rodolfo slowed his thrusts, allowing him to savor every moment. His hands tightened on your hips, and his breath was hot against your neck. He gently rubbed your clit." Come with me, mi amor," he groaned, pushing deeper inside.

Rodolfo's thrusts grew harder again, his cock hitting deeper as he lost control. His entire world centered around you; the feeling of your skin slapping together was the only thing that mattered. "Mi Amor," he whimpered your name like it was the only thing that mattered and released his hot seed inside of you, painting your walls white.

You whined, loving his cum inside of you; it was right there, and this alone made you clench around him and reach your climax. Desperately sticking your nails into his strong and broad shoulders.

Rodolfo grinned against your lips, his cock still hard inside of you. "I'll make sure to fill you up all the time time, Mi Amor," he whispered before kissing you deeply once more. He stayed inside of you for a few more moments, enjoying the feeling of being connected to you.

"Don't pull out, please."

"Still not enough, Mi Amor?"

"Of you never," he slowly began to thrust inside of you, trying not to go too fast because of your overstimulated cunt that still clenched him like a glove. His lips never left your body, placing little love marks all over your collarbone. You knew you were his- and he was yours.

The door opened. "Rodolfo, what are you doing with my sister?" Alejandro screamed.

- Fuck

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testingthewatersss · 6 months

Text

Halloween Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 5000 words fluff, mild angst, comfort, very light-hearted and mild smut. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. The halloween party turns out much better than expected.

It’s Halloween.

Well, it’s the night before Halloween, but it’s also a Saturday. It’s the Saturday before Halloween, which means a party.

A Stark party.

This, of course, means that every single person who lives in Avengers Tower is expected to attend.

Including Bucky.

She had told him that his attendance was not mandatory. Tony had mirrored the sentiment with less interest, too. So he probably could’ve gotten out of the whole affair, had it not been for Steve’s excitement.

His clear, untempered excitement at the mere prospect of attending a party with his best friend.

“It’ll be just like the good old days, Buck! Except you’ll only have one dame on your arm this time- I’d hate to see Y/N's face if you asked her to bring a friend for me”

He hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he really, really didn’t want to go.

The idea of a bustling party, full of strangers and loud music doesn’t sound fun to him anymore.

No, now it fills him with dread. Dread that’s only worsened by the addition of the ‘costume required’ rule, and his inability to get drunk along with the rest of the crowd.

So, he’d nodded along, intending to address his concerns later.

Maybe offering Steve a night out together instead. Just the two of them. That’d be much more akin to the ‘good old days’ anyway. It’s not like lavish billionaire parties were the kind of things they were doing together before the war.

Even if he’s been dating one of said billionaires for over a year.

Y/N is probably the main reason that conversation never happened with Steve. If she hadn’t been going there would’ve been no way in hell that Bucky would’ve even entertained the idea of going himself.

But she is going. And the idea of a night without her is almost worse than the idea of the party.

So now, it’s too late to back out.

He’s dressed up like James Dean because out of all the ideas that had been thrown around, it was the outfit that seemed the least intrusive. It’s basically a leather jacket and some hair gel. Tony had scoffed at the concept, making a ‘Tin-man and Dorothy’ suggestion that had earned a scolding from Y/N, who had beamed at the idea and agreed to go as Audrey Hepburn to complete the look.

He hasn’t seen her all day.

He misses her, and it shows.

Steve is at his side, dressed in an ornate ‘Count Dracula’ ensemble which, paired with the black spray he’s put in his hair looks awful.

The fake fangs are funny, though. And his excitement had been infectious. The playful chattering and obvious glee had been hard to ignore all day, so, he hadn’t tried. He’d let himself get swept up in the atmosphere;

“She’s running late” Natasha announces, rounding a corner dressed as Marylin Monroe, “apparently there was a change of plan”

“What kind of change?” Steve asks before Bucky can—

“She lost a bet” Bruce says, also coming into view.

His costume idea is good.

He’s dressed as Tony, complete with a fake arc reactor and drawn-on facial hair.

If Bucky had a better relationship with the man he might’ve considered that one for himself.

“With who?” he presses, curiously spiking;

“Who do you think?” Tony answers gleefully, “You’re goin’ to love this”

He’s addressing Natasha when he says that, which he thinks is strange. But, Bucky purses his lips in silent consideration.

What kind of bet? he thinks, And why is Natasha going to like it?

A few more minutes pass in the same kind of ‘excited haze’.

Everyone is talking and most of them are drinking, glasses clinking in toasts. Steve has a beer in his hand, but Bucky knows that it’s empty now.

His own is almost drained, too. The taste is familiar and comforting, even if it’s not doing what it used to in regards to calming his nerves.

His nerves are getting more and more frayed with every passing second that she doesn’t arrive.

Everyone else is accounted for.

Steve, and Tony. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda and Vision- all present, all wearing their outfits.

God, even Happy has arrived, wearing his usual suit, but with the addition of sunglasses which he says make him a ‘man in black’.

Bucky thinks he looks a bit like a HYDRA officer who he worked for, once. He decides not to mention it.

“Come on, princess!” Rhodey yells, in the general direction of the stairs- “I’m sure your hair looks fine!”

He’s dressed as Fury. It’s funny, but, when no reply comes to his shouting, Bucky can’t help but frown.

Tony, however, snorts out a laugh that makes all eyes snap at him.

“What did you bet, anyway?” Steve asks

“That my new gamma-wave equation was compatible with her old nuero-partical theory-” he answers, “-She said it wouldn’t be because she didn’t believe I’d read her paper.”

“I meant what were the stakes”

“Oh” Tony chuckles, knowing that only Bruce would’ve understood the concept of the dispute anyway, “If she won, I was going to have to cover the internship paperwork for the rest of the year—“

“—And if you won?” Natasha cuts in, suspicious.

“He got to change my costume for tonight” Y/N's voice answers, from out of view.

Any relief that Bucky expected to garner from hearing her voice is dampened by how sullen she sounds.

It doesn’t suit the usual lilt of her voice.

It worries him. He feels both of his hands tightening into fists and is suddenly grateful for how he’d placed his beer bottle on the side.

“Oh no you don’t!” Tony commands, instantly animated, “Back up stairs! FRIDAY- Que the music!”

“Tony!” Y/N objects, tone slipping towards pleading, “Ple-”

Her “please” is drowned out by the loud start of a song.

A familiar song.

Steve recognises it first. His eyes widening as every single person that has gathered in the common room moves, all adjusting their positions so that they have a clear view of the stairs.

Bucky is no different.

He walks a little too fast, the vibration from the speakers filling him with urgency.

‘Star spangled man, with a plan'

The tune builds, and then he feels his face click with remembrance;

It was the song they used to parade Steve around too. With a haram of women in short skirts-

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, louder than the music, “Tony, I swear to god—”

‘and I tell you there’s no substitute— the Star, Spangled, Man, with a plan’

and then, the venom in her voice makes sense.

As she appears at the top of the staircase, almost unrecognisable, Bucky thinks it makes perfect sense.

So does her brother's untempered laughter, and the way that he’s snapping pictures on his cell phone.

Her usually brown hair is blonde. Shoulder length in soft waves, her lips are painted bright, apple red, which, hair colour aside isn’t too abnormal for her, but-

God, she’s… she’s dressed like Steve.

She’s wearing the full Captain America suit, skin tight and colourful with the shield slung over one of her shoulders.

As she starts to walk down towards the crowd, Bucky realises that his jaw is hanging open, so he snaps it shut.

“Give us a smile, Cap!” Tony gears, cell phone aimed at his sister's face, “and maybe a salute”

“I will break your fucking jaw-” she threatens.

“Language” Natasha scolds, failing to conceal her grin;

Y/N's head snaps towards her friend, and then, she moves her hand, flipping her the bird before turning to glare at her brother again.

“Can I at least lose this wig?”

“No” Tony answers quickly, “No, I think it really ties it all together”

“You’re an asshole” she hisses, “You’re not even wearing a costume”

“Yes I am” he retorts, almost offended, “I’m dad!”

“You’re who?!” she splutters, totally taken aback, “You- You’re going as dad?!”

“Yes” Tony replies with a smirk, ”but, young dad, y’know- not-”

“You haven’t even shaved” she says, pointing at his face, “He had a moustache- not a goatie”

“I couldn’t find a razor” he lies, not even trying to hide his glee, “and all I needed to finish the look was-”

“Son of a bitch” Y/N curses, realisation setting in, “you made me wear this so I could be your accessory?”

and then a ripple of laughter washes over everyone.

Everyone except for Y/N, and Bucky, who is still staring at her, awestruck.

“You’re a jerk,” she says when everything settles;

“That’s more like it” Tony says, “throw in a couple of ‘sons’, maybe a self-richeous speech about justice here and there-“

“Hey” Steve objects, suddenly realising that at least part of this might be at his expense,

Tony beams again, excitement unwavering under his sister's glare.

and then there’s silence.

The sibling's dynamic is strange at the best of times, and in situations like this, the entire mood of the evening is going to be decided by how well either party decides that they can take a joke.

“Just wait until next year” Y/N sighs at last, “I’ll get you for this- I swear”

“I bet you will” Tony agrees, looking falsely contrite, “But for tonight-”

“I’m your star-spangled man with a plan,” she says, defeated.

He bursts out a “ha!” and turns to celebrate his victory with Rhodey and the others.

Y/N takes the moment of reprieve to finally meet Bucky’s gaze. She takes a few steps towards him, before smiling in acknowledgement of Steve, too.

“Sorry about leavin’ you in the lurch with the outfit,” she says, “at least you’re basically just dressed as yourself.”

Steve chuckles at her, even though she’d been talking to Bucky, and then he comments on her hair.

“It’s a wig,” she says off-handedly, “What’s in yours anyway? Shoe polish?”

That makes Bucky laugh for the first time that evening.

A real, true laugh.

He’s not even sure why. The jibe hadn’t been that funny. Not really. But he’s giddy with relief that she’s okay. That she’s safe and finally here, and her outfit is… ridiculous, he knows it is, but he can’t help but find himself captivated by it all the same.

Y/N beams in response to his outburst regardless. Smiling at him with her with her painted lips like he’s the best thing in the world.

That’s how she always looks at him. It’s so familiar that he can almost ignore the costume.

“It’s not your shield,” she tells Steve, “Or your suit, don’t worry”

“I wasn’t worried” Steve replies, “I was wondering how it fit you so well”

Bucky laughs again, and this time he realises that both of them are grinning at him.

“You look great, doll” he says when he catches his breath, “I’ve never really been into blondes but I think you pull it off”

“I can’t wait to pull it off-” she mutters, tugging at the fake hair with dismay, “-but, thank you.”

And then, everyone’s moving.

The room is a blur of motion. Everyone is abandoning bottles and cans and glasses and heading towards the elevators.

And Bucky is holding Y/N's hand while he lets Rodgers knock against his shoulder and make jokes about candy.

They have to split into groups for the cars.

Y/N and Tony have to go together with Happy, so, with a pout and a kiss on his cheek, she leaves Bucky with Steve and Sam.

Wilson teases him a little about how love-sick he is, but Steve doesn’t let the ribbing go on for too long before he silences him with a fatherly glare that makes him the target of the jokes.

Bucky doesn’t have to come to his rescue because their car pulls up just after the Starks have left.

He hates being driven around.

The feeling of being forced to be still in the back of a moving vehicle is unpleasant. But not unfamiliar.

Steve is too polite to comment on the way that his flesh knuckles turn white as he makes a tight fist on his lap. Or, how on the way he flinches, hard, when they stop at red lights.

“Easy” Sam chides, ignorant of the reason behind the response, “we’re in an armoured car- relax a little”

“I think Tony called it luxury” Steve cuts in, trying to be supportive and change the subject, “but he’s right, Buck- Everything’s fine-

“Luxury or not” the other man replies, “We’re still in the billionaire equivalent of an armoured tank—”

“Yeah?” Bucky gristles, tired of the patronising tone, “So was Howard Stark”

His remark sours the atmosphere instantly.

Steve goes to put a hand on his knee but he jerks it free before he really makes contact.

Sam just falls into an awkward silence that Bucky thinks is much more tolerable than his attempt at conversation.

They arrive exactly seven minutes later.

He knows because he’s been counting.

Y/N had taught him to do that. When they’d been talking about ‘coping techniques’ he’d scoffed at the usual suggestion of deep breathing.

“Deep breathing doesn’t help when you feel like you’re somewhere you can’t catch your breath, doll”

“No” she’d agreed, patient as always, “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

She wasn’t the first person to talk to him about ways that might help him feel better. She was probably the first person to listen to him, though;

“What did you used to do when you really couldn’t?”

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds before she’d taken pity on him and smiled.

“When you couldn’t catch your breath.”

Oh-

“You mean…” he’d gulped, “You mean when I was there?”

“mhmm”

“Whatever I was told”

That was the first time he’d been really honest with someone who’d tried to ask him about that. The answer had slipped out before he’d had a chance to think about it, but when he’d had a moment or two to process what he’d just admitted, he’d been so embarrassed that Y/N's palm on his cheek had jarred him.

Jarred him so much that he’d jolted in place, the panic that they’d been previously discussing flaring in an embarrassing display.

“..Okay…” Y/N had exhaled, “… you’re okay…”

A jerky nod hadn’t reassured her much, but it’d been all he could offer her at the time.

“What are you doin’ right now, huh? Nobodies telling you what to do now.”

“I-“ he’d stammered, suddenly unsure, “-I’m counting”

“Counting?” she’d pressed, curious “Alright… Let me know how high you get”

And then he’d been crying. He’d broken down and sobbed into her shoulder until his chest had stopped racing.

Then, he’d been able to explain, very shakily, about how sometimes they’d kept him masked for so long that arbitrarily counting in his head had been his only way of not losing whatever scrap of sanity he’d had left.

He could always count.

No matter what terrible thing was happening to him. No matter what heinous thing he was being made to do to someone else.

He could manage counting.

“So” she’d whispered, stroking his hair back, “That’s what you do… You count.”

and he still counts.

and, because he’s been doing it for so long, he’s quite good at matching his silent clock to actual seconds.

and, by the time they’re all exiting the car, it’s only been another 20.

The atmosphere is still awkward. Even with the removal of the car from the equation.

“You okay, Buck?”

It’s Steve asking. Concerned, now.

He feels a sharp stab of guilt when he blinks his eyes over to him and sees that it’s genuine. That the playful, childish excitement from before is gone, replaced by fatherly worry.

“I’m fine, Stevie” he replies, deliberately making his tone light-

When he sees that he’s not buying it, Bucky smiles.

“I’m not a good passenger” he allows, “but I’m fine.”

That seems to work a little. The honesty does, anyway.

“Look” Bucky sighs, placing his flesh hand precisely on his shoulder, “This is all a little hard on me…even the car rides-”

“-You’re doin’ awesome, Buck-”

“-Give it a rest” he chuckles, jostling him a little, “I’m workin’ on some stuff, don’t worry about me.”

The latter part is what sticks with Steve.

He looks directly at his old friend, reading his face for a full 4 seconds before nodding in agreement.

“I can’t take you seriously with that hair,” Bucky says, breaking the tension as they head towards the back entrance, “How did you do it?”

“Natasha gave me some spray stuff?” he says, almost like a question, “Apparently it washes out.”

“I hope it does” Bucky grumbles, flashing his ID at the doorman without meeting his eyes—

The inside of the party is alive.

That’s the only way to describe it.

It’s like every single person in the building has merged into one singular being. And that being is having a blast.

There’s dancing and laughter and plenty of drinking.

The Stark’s always have an open bar, and it’s clear that this one is being used.

Custom Halloween cocktails (and the signature glasses they come in) are littering the space, acting as extra decor as the multi-coloured lights dance through them.

A woman dressed as a cat, holding a tray of neon green shots appears, smiling at Bucky as she offers him one;

“That I’d pay to see,” Tony says, coming up behind her, and drinking 3 of them in quick succession, “Terminator and Captain All-star doin’ jello shots”

Wilson, eye patch and all laughs, mirroring the billionaire and taking his shot with a grin.

“Play nice” Y/N’s voice inserts, as the crowd parts to reveal her, “They don’t even get drunk from them, T— why would they want to do them?”

“For fun?” Tony replies, doing another 2 shots without coming up for air, “You’re gettin’ a little too into character there, cap”

As if to spite her brother, she declines the waitress's offer before making a show of politely thanking the next server who seems to be busying themselves following the more high-profile guests around.

Any hopes Bucky might have had about spending the night with her are dashed a few minutes later by the arrival of the other Avengers… and then, a camera crew.

A camera crew who find Y/N being dressed as Captain America captivating.

And then, god—

The addition of Tony’s costume? that’s the nail in the coffin.

Every single person who doesn’t live with the duo is glued to them all night.

Snapping pictures and laughing and ploughing them with drinks.

She only manages to slip away to Bucky’s side twice.

The first time is because she catches him looking forlorn by a window.

That he’d been watching her reflection in but, still—

She’d nodded, making an inane excuse before crossing the room to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Are you okay, handsome?” she whispers, directly into his ear.

“I’m okay” he replies, meaning it. “Waitin’ for Steve to get back with the drinks- Couldn’t face the bar.”

“Smart move” Y/N murmurs, tangling her fingers with his metal ones for a moment, “If you need me, come find me.”

“I haven’t lost you, doll” is the reply he gives her, nodding towards the window in half admission, and half explanation.

She laughs, kisses him properly and then, she ducks out of view with the playful salute that makes him very grateful for the privacy the party lighting provides.

The second time, they’ve been there for hours.

Steve is having the best time Bucky remembers seeing him have in… well, decades.

and frankly, it’s infectious.

Bucky is laughing. Laughing, lips grazing a beer bottle as Natasha tells another embarrassing story about Rodgers that sounds strangely familiar.

He’s telling her that things haven’t changed that much in the past hundred years when he catches her.

She’s stood, arm draped over her brother's shoulder with her head turned just slightly towards where he’s sat on a high stool that’s draped in fake cobwebs.

She’s watching him.

She’s just watching him with this, adoring look on her face that makes him blush even though he’s not meant to know that she’s looking.

Her gaze doesn’t linger. He never actually meets her eyes. She’s way too good for that to happen.

But his moment of distraction is noted by Natasha, who makes a jibe about him focusing on the wrong Steve.

When Y/N separates from Tony to head towards the bathroom, Bucky makes his excuses as well, suddenly unable to bear another minute apart.

She actually does use the bathroom, which makes dread stir heavily in Bucky’s stomach.

You’re acting like a stalker, Barnes, he thinks, hiding in the dark—

“Hey, Buck” Y/N greets, in a half-hearted impression of Steve, “You doin’ okay?”

The second part of the attempt is much better.

So much better that he can’t help but laugh;

“That-” he chuckles, “is scary, doll. Please don’t do that again.”

She nods, beaming at him again.

“You havin’ fun?” she asks, in her usual lilt, “You look like you are”

That almost sounds awed. He’s blushing, and her hand is reaching out to stroke his cheek and god, he’s leaning into her fingers;

“You were watchin’ me?” he murmurs, shy.

She chuckles, leaning in to kiss his brow.

“Of course I was” she purrs, “seein’ you smilin’ like that, it’s the best part of a night like this.”

“A night like this” he echos, utterly entranced, “You mean Halloween?”

She shrugs and he can see the flush of alcohol in her face.

It’s beautiful.

She’s beautiful.

“See?” she murmurs, thumb on his lower lip, “You’re perfect…”

and, he thinks he might actually be melting.

He’s pressed into the corner that he’d put himself in, and she’s wearing that stupid suit, and she’s blonde and for some reason, it’s not funny.

Even though it should be.

It should be hilarious.

But, it’s… it’s not.

“That hairspray really has hold, huh?”

He chuckles at that, as her fingers try and run through his hair.

She gives up quickly, not wanting to risk pulling on the strands.

No, she wouldn’t ever do that.

“It’s yours,” he tells her lamely—

The spray… the hair— me…

The laughter she treats him to is nicer than the music that’s been playing all night. And the look of love on her face is sweeter than the bright red ‘blood’ orange cocktail that Natasha had made him drink.

“I love you,” she tells him, “Sweetheart”

“I love you” he echos, “and I’ve been watching you too…”

“I know,” she says with a smirk, “You’re not half as subtle as you think you are, Soldier.”

“Maybe not” he agrees, leaning obviously towards her now, “but in my defence- everyone’s lookin’ at you tonight”

“Everyone” she agrees, a little grumpily, “I was really hopin’ that Tony was going to steal the spotlight, but I guess I can let him have this one.”

“People are lookin’ at him too,” he tells her, “if that helps”

“It does” she sighs, knowing that she has to get back to her brother soon, “It’ll help a whole bunch more when people aren’t calling me Cap’ and making jokes about blondes having more fun”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. At the pout she’s wearing, and the way that there's a stubborn crease forming between her brows.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” she asks, expression softening when she looks at him, again.

“Having more fun?”

“Not yet” she replies, “but, if the way you keep starring at my ass in this suit is anything to go by then there’s still time for that to change”

That makes him flush hotter than he thought was possible;

He squirms a little. Embarrassed by the fact that he can’t deny the accusation behind her little joke.

“I…uh—“ he stutters, trying to explain himself, “— um, I…I- di-“

“You don’t like the outfit?” her brow raises in a challenge.

Again, he can’t say that. It’s not true.

He toes at the floor, embarrassed by just how much he does like it.

“I better stop torturing you” she sighs, tone reluctant, “Let you get back to enjoying yourself with Steve.”

“I’m enjoyin’ myself with you,” he says, a little breathy.

“I know” she agrees, smoothing her hand down his front, straightening his shirt, “I know but Natasha has been watching us for 3 minutes, and I think she’s drunk enough to make jokes about us hooking up in the bathroom like high schoolers.”

“and that’d be bad,” he says lamely.

“That’d be bad” she agrees, playful laughter back in her tone, “Because while I’m stuck with Tony, you’re the one that’ll have to hear them all night.”

He nods, before pulling her in for a kiss.

And then, she’s gone.

And he’s back, ignoring the one sly dig about how long he spent in the bathroom, and how Y/N has also only just reappeared.

She was right, he thinks, they’re lucky to get away with only that one dig.

The rest of the night is fast.

It’s loud and full of friends, laughter, and music.

and a never-ending stream of drinks which Bucky can almost trick himself into believing are getting him buzzed.

The routine of drinking them is calming if nothing else.

The fruity ones are sweet, and the beer is classic and the shots, he finds out, aren’t that bad either.

Even if he can’t taste them as they slip down his throat.

He thinks he might’ve liked jello-shots, before.

When they’d have actually served a purpose.

The way that Steve is beaming at him is a purpose on its own he supposes. And they’re serving that one, so, he keeps drinking them.

It’s not exactly like the ‘good old days’ but it’s nice.

It’s very, very, nice.

The only thing that would make it nicer would be if Y/N had been able to escape the spotlight of everyone else for long enough to join him.

But, the way she’s smiling at him whenever he catches her eye across the crowded room takes the edge off.

The distance feels playful, not painful.

The glances and winks are flirtatious, and Bucky is loving it.

He’s loving every single second of it.

and then, it’s winding down.

The guests are leaving, pressing gracious kisses against Tony’s cheek, and then Y/N's and then it’s back to Tony—

He disappears before the room clears, arm in arm with a very female-looking Hulk.

There’s green paint all over his neck already, so it’s hardly a surprise.

Banner hasn’t been drinking, and although he grumbles a bit about Tony’s choice of companion, when the fact that he’s dressed up as the man is highlighted, he realises that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

When it’s time for the remaining Avengers to head home they separate into groups organically.

Somehow, Bucky winds up driving.

He doesn’t complain about that, though. He prefers it. Even if Steve is a nightmare for interfering from the backseat.

Wilson is black-out drunk. His speech so slurred that they’re not even pretending to understand him; and when they eventually pull up into the underground garage, Steve’s big brother complex fires up into high gear and he takes full responsibility for taking him inside and seeing him safely to his room.

Bucky is thrilled by this. He doesn’t hide it well. Steve slaps his shoulder in mock scolding before he ducks away into the stairwell.

He doesn’t know why he’s giddy on the way to his room.

Well, he does.

But he’s trying not to focus on it because it’s embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing because he’s excited by the idea of his girlfriend waiting for him in their room-

-Dressed as your best friend, he reminds himself, Dressed as Steve-

The feeling of wrongness only makes him more excited.

God, that’s sick, he thinks, hand on the door;

“About time, Sarge”

Her voice makes any shame melt away from his core.

and then he’s walking towards her. He’s pacing towards the bed, where she’s leaning against one of the mahogany four-poster posts, with the shield propped up against her bed frame.

When he realises that he’s looking at that, it doesn’t take long at all for his gaze to jump to her boots.

They’re red and knee-high, and then he’s starring at her ass in the suit again-

“Shall I keep the wig on?”

He’s caught, again.

His mouth opens to…Well, he’s not exactly sure of what he intends to do, but, nothing wasn’t the plan;

“Or is the blonde too weird?”

This whole thing is weird, but he likes it.

He’s still just gawking, so she beams at him before kicking a leg up onto the bed, to better display the boots.

“I think we should make Steve wear these,” she says, “I think they’d really set-”

“Can we not talk about Steve right now?-” he asks, chuckling, “Please?”

“Yes, sir” she replies, straightening back out and offering him a salute, “the bedroom is a Steve free zone.”

and then, he’s kissing her.

He’s kissing her, and she tastes like cocktails and his hands are on her waist, and god, she’s perfect-

“Y’know, I-” he pants, lips barely leaving hers, “-I always liked the outfit.”

“Wanna know a secret?” she whispers, hands moving up to cup his jaw, “So have I”

Oh, god- he’s laughing.

They’re both laughing, and kissing, and then they’re on the bed.

And they’re still kissing—

She loses the wig quite quickly.

Bucky tugs it free and launches it across the room where it knocks over an empty vase with a dull clatter.

The boots, however, stay on.

Even when the suit eventually comes off, the shiny red boots remain.

and the next morning, when she wakes up, she kicks them off, letting them fall to the side of the bed. And then, as she turns to fully admire him, she finds herself laughing quietly at the stains of red that smeared across his cheeks, and his neck, and his mouth.

“I made a mess of you, sugar” she murmurs, thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw, “I’ll help you clean up later— I promise.”

“I’ll hold ya’ to that, doll”

Masterlist

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #oneshot #female reader #fluff #drabble #x reader

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