#maybe he’ll be able to learn that himself now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 2 months

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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi.

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

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haetrack · 3 months

Text

(lucky for you) we’re just friends

lee haechan x gn!reader

wc: 6.6k

summary: haechan realizes, for once in his life, he doesn’t know what to do. he's in love with his best friend, and he's sure you don't like him the same way. do you think about him as much as he thinks about you?

warnings: angst, little fluff, bittersweet, unrequited feelings, jealously, argument, confession, dialogue heavy, end of a friendship

heavily inspired by like a friend - pulp

this is part 1 of the how it all goes series!

haechan can feel how his heart pounds in his chest, aching and yearning for something he can’t quite reach.

he’s someone who tries hard to get what he wants, and most of the time, being able to achieve that. he believes if he wants something that bad, then there should be no reason why he shouldn’t be able to get it. he’ll learn, he’ll adapt, he’ll make any changes needed. but now, as he lays in bed within the darkness of his room, he feels lost. nothing’s ever quite compared to this feeling, a feeling of longing for something.

something called you.

he has his phone on his chest, feeling the buzzing of notifications as you text him. you asked if you could come over, despite how late it is and how rain currently is pummeling down. he couldn’t say no to you, his best friend. while he’d be normally happy to see you, he was busy thinking of how it would feel to kiss you before you texted him. he can’t bring himself to pick up his phone, not really sure what to say.

it’s not until he hears knocks at his door that makes him get up. he opens it, and there you are, your jacket drenched in rain while you smile at him. he can’t help the smirk that forms on his face, mirroring your own. he pulls you inside, away from the cold rain and into his warm apartment. you peel your jacket off before pulling haechan into a hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. he can feel how cold you are, his arms hesitantly wrapping around you.

“sorry for coming so late,” you sigh, “just wanted to see you.”

“long day?”

“horribly long. it’s like god was testing me or something.”

haechan laughs as you pull yourself away from him, plopping down on his couch, taking up most of the space. haechan squeezes himself in the small spot left, one hand finding your knee as he tries to comfort you. despite the tiredness of your voice, your eyes shine when they make eye contact with his, almost as if he's healing you.

you start, “i almost ended up not coming here, i thought you fell asleep on me,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t answering me.”

“i was just… in the bathroom.” he lies.

you hum, glancing at him one last time before pulling out your phone. it’s quiet, and haechan can hear the light sound of rain thrumming against his window. you’re here, taking up all his space, not bothering to move you out of the way. whatever’s his is yours, he thinks. he turns to you again, notices how you’re typing on your phone, your attention pulled away from him. he makes a show of grabbing your phone from you, whines coming from your mouth as you try to grab it.

“no phone time when you’re here with me!” he huffs, “you asked to be here so late, so now you have to pay attention to me.”

you frown as you try once more to reach for your phone. haechan laughs loudly at you, enjoying how hard you’re trying. “say please, haechan. maybe even a pretty please, haechan will do!”

you glare at him, inhaling a big breath of air before saying, “pretty please, haechan.”

he cooes at you sweetly before precariously handing your phone back to you. you sigh, now fully seated up as you lean into his side. you miss how he flinches at your touch, how his eyes dart nervously to yours. you lean your head onto his shoulder, eyes closing as he wraps an arm around you.

he likes how this feels, likes how you just come to him no matter how much he annoys you. he wonders if you’re like this with anyone else, wonders if you’d still smile at them if they annoyed you as much as he did. he doesn’t like the thought, biting on his tongue at the uncomfortable feeling inside of him.

he looks to see you now scrolling through instagram, not noticing the longing looks that haechan sends your way. you surprise him when you tiredly look up at him, seeing him slightly flustered for a second before pushing it away. it’s bittersweet, having you like this knowing he’ll never really have you like this. at least not in the way he wants.

he’ll let you do this as many times as you want. he’ll let you take over his mind if you need to.

you: haechannn

you: come pick me upplzzzz

it’s two in the morning and haechan can hear two buzzes coming from his phone. it’s you, probably drunk, asking for a ride home. he’d normally go out to party with you, but one essay and one shift later, he was stuck to his bed. as much as he’d like to go back to sleep, you’re more important. he grabs whatever clothes are closest to him, shoving his keys and wallet into his pockets before driving off.

he has the address from when you had asked him if he wanted to go. but as he pulls up to the place, there is quite literally no spot for him to park. he parks down the street, having to walk a good eight minutes down to the house. he slips past the people outside, into the house that’s filled. despite the amount of people there, he can easily spot you from far away. of course he would, he thinks, you shine the brightest to him.

he taps your shoulder, and as you turn towards him, he can see the growing grin on your face. it’s easy to tell that you’re drunk, the hooded eyes and lazy smile on your face proving it.

“haechan,” you drag his name out, “you don’t know how much i missed you,” you whine into his neck as your throw your arms over his shoulders. he tries to stop the blush on his face from forming from your warm breath on his neck, but fails when he feels your nose nuzzling against his skin. he doesn’t try to pry you off of him, deciding in this one moment to indulge in your touch.

“come on, we gotta get you home so you can sober up.”

he drags you away, saying goodbye to your friends as you both walk out. you lean against him as you both walk down the street, his body warm compared to the cool night. his hand is wrapped around your waist, leaning into your touch. it feels so normal like this, so used to the thoughts of you two together like this playing in his head late at night. he’s not sure if this will ever happen like he wants it to, holding onto you a little tighter than before.

the streets are illuminated by orange street lights, shining down the both of you as the loud music begins to fade as you walk away. he can feel you stumble, him helping you back up as you smile at him. he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to pretend that your smile doesn’t play in his mind constantly. it hurts having you this close, but it hurts even more knowing you probably don’t feel the same way as him.

in the current turmoil of his mind, one thought is louder than the rest. he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t even want to think it. he tries to push it away, but when he looks as sees the sweet smile on your face, three words begin to form in his throat. he can’t help it, the words begin to bubble up, threatening to slip out of his mouth. before he can stop it, his mouth opens up, sucking in a breath until-

“haechan… you take such good care of me… you’re such a good friend.”

your words are whispered into the cold air. haechan’s mouth shuts, the words dying in his throat as new thoughts are replaced in his mind. he’s only your friend. no matter what he wishes, what he wants, what he feels like he needs, he’ll never get it. this time, there’s no way for him to work to get it- to get you. the smile on your face tells him what you said is real, genuine words despite how drunk you are.

he feels a little stupid as you make it to his car. he opens the door for you, letting you stumble into the passenger seat. once he’s in, he buckles your seat belt, successfully getting you away from the cold and into the safety of his car. he sees how your eyes shut, how your body naturally leans towards his. it’s stupid for him to think that there’s any way that you might like him back.

he grips the wheel, bites his tongue, fighting back words of a confession to your tired mind. he can’t do that to you, and decides it’s better to drive off into the night.

he unlocks his apartment for you, opening the door and taking you straight to his bathroom. he washes your face to the best of his ability, rinses your mouth out with water, and hands you a cup of water. you whine, but he sternly tells you to drink it. after more complaints, you eventually listen to him, gulping it all down.

he didn’t mean to have you come over. you asked if you could in the middle of your car nap, eyes still closed as you spoke. he can’t say no to you. he eyes you, your party clothes still wrapped around you as you gulp down the water. he offers you some of his clothes, and you happily accept them.

“won’t you let me sleep with you, haechan? it’s too cold for you to be alone on the couch tonight.”

you knew him, knew how he’d give you his whole room to himself. he tries to argue with you, but you pull him down next to you. your arms wrap around his body as you nuzzle your neck into his shoulder. if this were any other day, haechan would play along, trying to annoy you. but tonight, his heart is aching while wrapped in your arms.

he loves you.

“... and so i was about to fight my professor, he just wasn’t- hey, haechan? are you even listening?”

haechan tears his gaze off of you from far away. you’re sitting next to your own friends who he doesn’t really talk to. you pay no attention to him, probably not even aware he’s in the dining hall at the same time as you. you look nice right now, smiling and laughing, leaning onto the person at your side. he wonders if you’re talking about him, wonders if you bring him up as much as he talks about you.

he’s taken away from his thoughts as renjun snaps his fingers in front of him, glaring straight at him. haechan sends a pretty smile at renjun, hand on his cheek as he puts all his attention on him, “continue.”

“do you even know what i was talking about?”

“something about… a fight… and your professor…”

renjun huffs, turning around and scanning the room to find what haechan was so distracted with, “if you were paying attention to what i was saying, you would’ve known that the fight would’ve been- oh. oh.”

haechan looks away, eyebrows furrowed knowing that renjun had seen you. it’s stupid, haechan thinks, how you take all his attention. haechan wasn’t even supposed to be here, his class was cancelled, joining renjun to go grab lunch. if he had known you would be here, he would’ve asked to do something else. it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you, but he doesn’t want to think about the other night.

“haechan, you can’t keep doing this.”

“doing what? looking at my literal best friend?”

“you know that’s not what i’m talking about.”

haechan sighs, trying to move on. he pushes the food on his plate around, trying to push all thoughts of you out of his mind. he just can’t stop thinking about you. he wonders if there might be any way for you to see him more than what he is- a friend. he can’t force you to like him, can’t force you to think about him. all these feelings for you are building up inside of him, and it only gets worse when he sees you.

haechan looks at renjun, really looks at him and asks, “is there anything i can do about this?”

renjun looks a little startled by his seriousness, “if i’m speaking honestly, there’s not a lot. if you’re the only one feeling like this, then what else is there left to do?”

“it’s just… the other night, we were walking together, and i just felt… it felt different. i realized that i have all these feelings but there’s nothing i can do about them. they have nowhere to go.”

it hurts to think about, and with a quick glance, he sees your smiling face once more. you’re free from worry, free from the stress of knowing how haechan feels. seeing you puts a smile on his own face. if he were just your friend, he’d walk over, say hi, and sit. but he’s here, sat with renjun, talking about how you don’t want him. how you supposedly don’t want him. although it hurts, it’s funny to think about how there might not be anything between you two anymore.

renjun doesn’t laugh, doesn’t get annoyed, he just breathes out, “i don’t think it’s going to happen the way you want it to.”

haechan plays with his fingers, “i know.”

haechan has to pick you up after class today.

he hasn’t seen you in person since the party night. he’s of course texted you, never fully being able to pull away from you. you draw him in every single time, texts filled up with pictures with a text saying this is us. while haechan is fighting to keep everything in, you’re sending him posts that remind you of him. the small gesture makes his heart swell, body aching to be with yours again. it’s only been like, three days, he reminds himself, i’m acting like i’m dying.

he swallows down his feelings, turning on his car and blasting a song to try to think of something else. he can’t, thinking of you sitting in the passenger seat humming along to the song. he thinks about laughing at you when you sing off-key, thinks about how you ask him to sing instead. he thinks he can sing every single song in the world if it would make you happy.

after an excruciatingly long ride, he finally makes it to your class’s building. you let him know you’d be waiting outside, and as haechan pulls up, he sees you. except, you’re with someone else, laughing along with someone that haechan has never seen before. he bites his lip, grips down onto the steering wheel as the sickly feeling of jealousy pools in his body. he honks his cars horn, thinking it might be the only way to get your attention.

you’re startled out of your conversation, turning to find the source of the sound, finding haechan sitting in his car. there’s a smile etched on his face, but his eyes show something else you can’t quite pick out. he watches you say goodbye to this random person, watches as you walk to his car, sliding yourself in. he can’t stay upset too long, tries to shove down the feelings almost slip out.

“hey, haechan. should’ve texted me that you were here, i swear i almost died when you honked.”

“it wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t so busy talking to whoever that was.” he bites the inside of his cheek as he drives off to your apartment. he’s supposed to hang out with you, but he’s not sure what’s about to happen.

“be nice!” you say jokingly, “they were just someone from my class, someone kept asking crazy questions during lecture so we were just-”

“laughing together,” he cuts you off, “yeah, i saw.”

you roll your eyes, “clam down, dude. i’m not replacing you, i promise you are still my best friend.”

your words are supposed to calm him down, but it only makes it worse. he doesn’t want to start an argument, doesn’t want to make you feel bad for something you’re not even aware of. but that’s the problem, you can’t see how he looks at you, can’t see that he’s getting jealous of the thought of someone else making you laugh like he does. it’s bad to feel like this as a friend, worse as someone who likes you. he chooses to be quiet.

“anyways, there’s this party i got invited to at a friend of a friend’s house. you wanna go with me?”

“who invited you?” haechan asks, trying to focus on the road instead of the rising jealousy.

“this guy that my friend knows. i wouldn’t have said yes if it weren’t for you,” you chuckle, “i felt bad that you couldn’t go to the party the other night.”

once your words register, he immediately feels bad. you were thinking about him. you felt sorry for him, felt the need to say yes to someone you didn’t know, just for him. he lets out a small laugh, “you know you didn’t have to. we’re literally supposed to hang out today.”

you smile at him, happy that he’s calmed down, “trust me, i wanted to. plus, i wanted to see if i can find someone cute to talk to tonight.”

haechan gapes out, “why would you need that? i’m gonna be there with you the whole night, just talk to me?”

he can see how you give him a confused look, “i meant like, talking talking to someone. you’re supposed to be my wingman.”

“it’s not that, i just- i don’t know. sorry.”

“don’t do that. tell me what’s wrong, please. i’m here for you, i’m your best friend.”

before haechan realizes it, it all just flows out of him, “i don’t want you talking to someone else. i want you to talk to me, want you to spend tonight with me. not some person from class or- or some random person from a party.”

he doesn’t look at you as he continues, “i want you to be with me. and, god, i just- you don’t know how much i want you to just look at me for once.”

his ears are ringing. he can’t hear if you’ve said anything, or if you kept quiet. he’s near your place, wonders if you’ll still let him, let him apologize, let him put it all behind you. instead, he sees how you shift in place, sees how your eyes shift all over, sees you breath in to speak.

“drop me off here.”

“but i-”

“haechan. please drop me off here.”

he can’t breathe, mind going blank as he can feel you run away from him, “i’m sorry, i just- i didn’t mean to- i don’t know what i was saying-”

“don’t make this worse, haechan. i’ll text you, i’ll walk home, just let me get off here.”

he can’t fight this. he can’t keep you in here. he can’t take back what was said. he unlocks the doors, whispering, “okay.”

what has he done?

haechan feels like his life might quite literally be over.

not only did he angrily confess to you, he might’ve just ruined his friendship of many years just to say that he likes you. well, he didn’t outright say i like you but… you could probably tell what he was trying to say. nothing can make this better. like any of his problems, he wishes he could text his best friend. this time, he’s not sure if you would answer him.

the next best thing he can do is call renjun. he doesn’t really want to, doesn’t want to hear a lecture, doesn’t want to hear how he messed up, how messed up he is. at the same time, he doesn’t know what to do. renjun might not either, but calling him would beat the recurring thought of how he’s ruined everything.

so haechan calls him.

“hey, i’m doing like, ten different things right now so-”

haechan interrupts, “i confessed.”

there’s silence on the other end for a few beats, “you did what?”

“i confessed without even thinking. i just rushed it all out with no plan and i-” haechan takes a breath, “i was so jealous, so fucking jealous to where i couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

“and what happened?” renjun sighs, closing whatever book he was reading.

“nothing good, i think. we were supposed to go to a party, i’m assuming neither of us went to the party. i drove home alone, and now i’m here, and nothing feels right anymore.”

“did you try talking or just like, sending a message?”

“no, what’s the point? who’d want to talk to anyone after something like that happens?”

“that’s true.”

it feels like the conversation ended, haechan and renjun sitting in silence on the phone call. haechan can feel how his eyes begin to well up with tears, feeling like everything might truly be over. you’re still his best friend, he still wants to talk to you, laugh with you, cry with you, and do so much more. you’re slipping away from him, and it’s all his fault.

“i know who you are as a person, haechan. you-” haechan hears a small groan as renjun tries to articulate his words, “you can’t give up like this. i know you don’t want to give up like this.”

“but what can i do? it’s all so fucked, i fucked everything up.”

“no, you know what to do. you just can’t do this halfheartedly, this is your best friend we’re talking about. make it work, haechan.”

“and if it all doesn’t work?”

“then that’s how it ends.”

haechan whispers goodnight into his phone, quickly hanging up on renjun. he doesn’t bother trying to hear anything else. his body buzzes with a feeling of longing, quickly moving to his messaging app. he finds your contact, hovering over your name as he moves to text you. he stares at his screen, reads a few texts from nights before, and lets out a breath. his fingers begin typing, and before he can fully register what he’s typing, he sends you a text.

haechan: if it’s okay with you, would you want to come over tomorrow afternoon?

haechan doesn’t go out the next day.

he stays in his room, hovers around in his apartment. haechan keeps on checking on his phone, trying to see if you’ve texted him back already. the sun is beginning to set, and haechan thinks it might actually all be over. it hurts knowing he hurt you, his best friend. you’ve never really argued like this before, haechan not letting you run away from him for more than a second.

now that this has happened, haechan can only think of giving you space. he can’t beg you to talk to him, can’t just ask you to ignore what he said. these feelings that he has are as real as yours are, he can’t look past that. so as he checks his phone one last time, he’s ready to let you go. he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, staring off into space.

it’s not until he hears a knock at his door.

he didn’t invite anyone but you over, and he’s sure you’re not showing up. he trudges to the door, fully expecting to see renjun with a frown on his face when he opens the door. instead, when he opens the door, he sees you standing there. your eyes look tired as you greet him with a faint smile. he awkwardly stands at the door for a moment too long, spluttering as he tries to come up with something to say.

“are you gonna let me in, or what?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice.

he blinks, “sorry, uh, come in.”

he moves aside to let you in, giving you space as you walk in. so many times he’s hung out with you, but none of them feel like this. he feels guilty, feeling like he pressured you into coming over. he keeps his distance from you, shifting his weight on his two feet, watching as you look around his apartment before your gaze settles on him. you don’t look angry, you don’t look happy either, but you still smile at him. he can feel his heart jump in his chest.

“look,” haechan starts, “i didn’t even know you were going to come over. i-i’m sorry-”

“let’s not do that just yet, yeah? let’s just… talk. wanna head out to your balcony?”

he nods, quickly catching up to you as he slides open the door to his balcony. you watch how jittery his movements are, a feeling of sadness washing over you as he tries being careful around you. you did this to him, and you don’t really know how to fix it. you move to his cramped balcony, big enough to fit two lawn chairs and the smallest table you’ve ever seen.

you remember the day he bought the table. you watched as he hauled the big box by the balcony, opening it up just to see a small table, staring right back out at him. you both bursted out laughing, hunched over as you pointed at the size of it. haechan’s cheeks were tinted pink as he tried to justify himself for the accidental mistake of buying the wrong size.

“whatever! it’s perfect for out here, perfect for our little space.”

you hummed, “you better not invite anyone to this spot. this is for me and you only.”

“you know it’s only gonna be you. who else would i’d rather have here than you?”

you look away, fitting yourself into the cramped space of the balcony, sitting down on one of the worn-down chairs. he squeezes in, quickly sliding the door shut as he sits on the other chair. he’s not looking at you, choosing to look out at the setting sun, the light cascading over the both of you. it’s quiet, save for the passing cars and the rustling of the leaves on the trees. you breath out, trying to figure out what you want to say.

haechan beats you to it, “i really didn’t think you were gonna come. i texted you so late, and… i don’t know, i was so horrible to you yesterday.”

“the text you sent me was like, the most formal text you’ve ever sent,” you laugh out, “i was so worried that i just had to come over.”

he freely laughs out at your words, feeling himself relax at your words. he has to remind himself again that it’s still you, his best friend. he’s known you for so long, and for the meantime, he can put his feelings at the back of his mind.

you shift a little in your chair, “so… was all of that like, you saying- i mean, you confessing to me? i didn’t want to assume, and i know i kinda just walked out, but i wanted to ask.”

he messes with his fingers, “i don’t know how it happened. i didn’t want it to happen like that, i wasn’t even sure i wanted to say all of that.” he bites down on his lip before speaking again, “i don’t want to call it a confession, but i do want to say it now, properly. i like you.”

you suck in a breath, not really sure what you’re feeling. this is haechan talking to you, your friend for some time. you never really thought too much of how touchy he was or how flirty he was, it just seemed like him. now, as you finally piece it all together, you take note of the longing gaze, the shyness when you flirted back, how he always calmed down with you around.

you see it now too, his eyes softly scanning over you, no sadness in his eyes despite the situation. his look is full of all his feelings for you, and it hurts that you’re barely seeing it now.

“oh,” you dumbly say, “that’s… i’m sorry.”

he lets out a confused laugh, “do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

you try not to laugh too hard, given the circumstances, but you do anyway. haechan joins you, and it feels normal again. “i don’t even know. i can see that you like me now that you’ve told me, but i just- how come i didn’t see it before?”

“i thought that i was pretty obvious with it. renjun even told me that i had to stop being so forward.”

“even renjun told you,” you repeat, “what a good guy. he could see it before i could.”

“he is a good guy, he was there through it all. all the times where i told him how nice you looked one day or how much i wanted to kiss you during a party.”

“you wanted to kiss me? how- how long have you liked me for?” you didn’t mean for your voice to get so high-pitched at the end, but you can’t hide how surprised you are.

he laughs dryly, “i’m not even sure myself. it just kinda happened over time.” he sighs as he feels his phone buzz, opting to turn it off completely, “you just… i liked how you always stayed you. no matter who you talked to, even if i got jealous watching you laugh and smile at other people.”

your heart aches in your chest. he likes you, and at no point did you ever stop to think if you like him. he’s nice, a good friend, funny, and cute. comparing to how he feels about you, though, your feelings almost mean nothing. anyone can use those words to describe him, and you don’t think you feel anymore than that. you can’t say this to him, turning away to try to avoid him altogether.

“what’s wrong?” he takes hold of your shoulder, feeling how it shakes under his touch, “hey, you can tell me. i… i can probably imagine what you’re gonna say.”

“y-you can?” you sniffle, and he lets out a small laugh when he sees that your eyes are filled with tears.

“i think so. i prepared myself for everything, and it’s probably so much better than you just flat out never talking to me again.”

“i could never do that to you!” you splutter out, “you’re still my friend, and i… i’m sorry for saying that.”

he scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat before he says, “so can i assume you don’t, uh- you don’t like me back?”

you don’t answer right away. you focus on your hands in your lap, twiddling your thumbs together. you know your answer, but you just can’t get it to come out. it feels wrong, almost betraying your friend in a way. you hate seeing him sad, and knowing that you might cause him pain makes everything even worse. you try clearing your throat, opening up your mouth, but nothing comes out.

he doesn’t try rushing you. you can tell he knows. he knows you like the back of his own hand, and your silence tells him everything. yet, he still doesn’t press you for an answer, doesn’t get mad or upset with your silence. there’s not point in doing so, no point in causing an argument that doesn’t need to be made.

finally, you speak up, “i don’t think,” you take a breath in, your words steadily come out, “i don’t think i like you. at least, not in the way you want me to.”

he slowly nods, biting down on his bottom lip as he takes in your words. it’s not that he didn’t expect this, but it’s different when it’s actually coming from you. he’s imagined this, he’s had renjun tell him this, and yet, his heart still hurts. he doesn’t really know what to do. all that he can come up with is, “yeah, that’s what i- that’s what i figured.”

it’s quiet for a while, you both sit there, staring at the sunset in front of you. no one comments on how pretty it looks, how the beams of sunlight strike against the purple hues of the sky. before you can think about it, you say, “i’m sorry-”

“there’s nothing for you to be sorry about. those are your feelings. i can’t make you feel bad over what you feel.”

you let out a shaky breath, “i know. i just, i don’t know, i wish there was more for me to say.”

“then can i ask a question?” you nod, “was there no time where you ever thought that, maybe, you could’ve liked me?”

you laugh out despite how shaky your voice is, “your nosy ass.”

he lets out a genuine laugh, no sadness behind it as he tries to refocus. you shift in your seat a little as you try to think of anything. he makes you happy, recalling all the times he’s wiped your tears away and made you laugh. even just from the other night, he helped you back to his apartment when you were too drunk to do anything. he didn’t have to come and get you, but he did.

even though he’s done all these things, you never thought of him more than a friend. it feels selfish in a way, all the things he’s done for you while you just take from him. you shake your head slowly, haechan watching how you face him, but try not to look at him. you sigh out, “i… it just always felt like you were a good friend to me.”

haechan just nods dumbly. it’s what he can expect, it was never supposed to be ‘more than friends.’ he was never supposed to find fall in love with your smile, how you lean into him when you laugh, or how you come to him when you’re sad or tired. it’s his fault you both feel like this, and he’s scared of what this might mean for the both of you.

he pokes his tongue into his cheek, his hands folded across his chest, “so, what now?”

you stare at the side of his face, his face scrunched up from either the sunlight or the worrying feelings brewing in his head. you’re not even sure yourself. you don’t know what you want, you don’t know what haechan will want in the future, either. it scares you, almost a feeling of expectations that haechan will have of you slowly falling in love with him.

“i’m not sure…” you inhale, letting out the words you really didn’t want to say, “are you… are you still going to like me after this?”

he wastes no time responding, “i’ll always like you as my friend, but i don’t think- i don’t think i can just push away these feelings i have. i won’t let it get in the way of our friendship, but it’s always going to be at the back of my mind.”

you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, trying to get yourself from saying anything that might hurt. in the end, you think, it’s probably better to say this now. “i just- i’m scared that you want me to fall in love with you in the future. i can’t make that promise, even if that’s not what you’re thinking right now.”

he tries cutting you off, “that’s not what i-”

“i know, haechan. but it’s just, we aren’t gonna be the same after this. i’m gonna be aware of how you act around me. i’ll see how careful you are when you hug me, or- or when i try to talk to someone else and you have to hide your feelings.”

his hands grip onto his thighs, your words blurring into each other at the end. he knows what you’re saying, and it almost sounds like you’re trying to pull away from him. he’s not sure how he can get you back, feeling the distance between you both even as you’re seated right next to him. he shuts his eyes, images of you both together flashing behind his eyelids. you’re everywhere, he thinks, he can’t get away from you.

you continue after a bit, “i just think we need time to figure this out. i just, i don’t want to lead you on in any way. i can’t let you keep falling for me when i know it’s just going to hurt you even more.”

he wants to try to reach out to you, grab your hands and beg you to stop. he wants to make a joke, wants to wipe the serious look on your face and replace it with a laugh. he wants to take you back inside, sitting next to you on the couch while pressing a kiss to your cheek. he tries to shake away the thought, now knowing there’s no way that it will ever happen. all he can do is nod at your words.

you pat the armrests of the chair, feeling the need to walk away from here, from him. you can feel your heart breaking for your friend as you stand up suddenly. he watches with you with bleary eyes, eyes begging you to sit back down. he watches how your hands can’t stop moving around, trying to figure out what you want to do.

“i think i want to go now, haechan. it’s- it’s getting late, and i don’t want to keep you for too long.

he subconsciously nods, sliding open the door for you as you rush into his apartment. he follows you in a daze, his body seeking at your warmth as you pull away from him. he wants to reach out and hold your hand, pulling you against him as he laughs against your shoulder. he swallows, watching how you awkwardly stand in his apartment.

“text me if you need anything. if you feel bad, don’t- don’t hide it from me. i’m still your friend, okay? remember that.”

he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he nods at your words and lets out a small okay. he opens the door for you, letting yourself out, standing at the doorstep for a little longer. “i love- i care about you, haechan. i’m here for you, always.”

he watches you rush down his hallway, entering the elevator as it opens for you. he slowly makes his way back to the balcony, leaning against the metal fencing of it. this almost feels like a last goodbye, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever see you again. at least, not as friends. he finds you walking down the street, hands moving to your face as you presumably wipe away tears.

he could’ve held back his feelings. he could’ve never fallen in love with you. he could still be hanging out with you today, laughing on his couch as he puts on a dumb romcom. he could’ve still had it all with you, but he threw it all away in a selfish act of love. he doesn’t feel bad for ever loving you.

as haechan watches you walk away from him, he can’t help but wonder if all this time spent with you was worth it. the times cramped up in your apartment, times where you cried out to him, times where you were the only person who could heal him. all the times where you only thought of him as a friend while he could only wish for more with you.

he doesn’t think he could ever regret it.

a/n: this is my first fic without any smut and i am so happy with how it came out… i know how hard it is to fall off w someone so i just had to… *looks out a window* i hope this wasnt too sad but i also hope it was...

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @the-universe-in-you-jjh @dorkyji @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @vip-access @snflwrhaerecs4u @forhaever @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @haechology @candyeollies

#nct fic #nct scenarios #nct angst #haechan fic #haechan angst #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #nct 127 angst #nct dream angst

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anakinsdove · 18 days

Text

𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!padawan!reader

summary: Your master is horny and frustrated, he looks for release at a nasty gloryhole in coruscant… only to find out that that perfect pussy he’s fucking belongs to his padawan.

c/w: gloryhole, p in v, masturbation, power imbalance (very nasty idgf im sorry im horny)

discord - twitter: anakinsdove. -PART 2-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰: 1,838

He’s frustrated, Anakin won’t hide it anymore, he even yelled at you this morning, but as soon as he saw your pretty eyes pout at him he regretted it, it’s not even your fault, you’re learning, he’s your master, he’s supposed to teach you, it’s just… you jumping around and swinging your lightsaber does something to him… and he knows it shouldn’t.

It doesn’t matter anymore, how hard and fast he fucks his fleshlight, how hard he grinds against his mattress trying to chase an unsatisfactory high that leaves him as soon as it arrives, the painful dry orgasms he craves and hates, how painfully hard he grips his cock, nothing is enough, not anymore, he craves something else.

someone else

Someone’s pussy he knows he shouldn’t even think about, but he wonders… he wonders if someday he’ll be able to fuck it… how tight and wet you must feel around his cock… could you even take it? Could his sunshine of padawan handle him? He’ll be gentle, he’ll be rough, he’ll be anything you want him to be

Anakin sits on his bed late at night, however this is coruscant, theres always some sort of party going on somewhere, bars, loud noises and music, flashing lights, even nasty gloryholes, this planet is wild… the Jedi temple is luxurious and quiet on the surface…. But in the lower levels of coruscant there are… some interesting things happening, but he’s a Jedi, he knows it’s not right, he’s not sure what part isn’t right, but there’s something that doesn’t click.. maybe it’s the fact that paying for some services are just not what he wants, he wants your stupid creamy fucking pussy wrapped around his cock… what would you call him? Master? Anakin? And there’s the other fact that it’s avoid being recognized with his Jedi robes and his lightsaber… he must go undercover if he wants to get what he wants.

As anakin prepares himself for an adventure he takes a peek of the empty hallways at the Jedi temple, everyone asleep, everyone doesn’t have the same problem as him… it’s quiet and peaceful… he remembers that place, Obi wan and him tracked a criminal a few alleys away, the discrete yet inviting place hiding beneath the shadows… *is that?* *Don’t even say it Anakin….* Obi wan said with an unamused expression… of course it fucking is.

And now his feet has finally led him here….

The first thing her sees is lady.. well only her hands.. her face is covered by a piece of wood, completely anonymous… great, like this he’ll just have to imagine it’s you… he hope it does the trick, he hands her some credits without saying much… then he takes a deep breathe *Focus Anakin… focus* he tells himself… but the loud slapping noises and moans keep distracting him, he feels some sort of sense of guilt, he knows he’s better than this, but again he’s not… and the last thing he thinks before opening that stained curtain is… Obi wan should never know this… Y/N should never know this….

And finally he sees legs spread and in display… the wood creaks beneath his feet, the loud moans Turing of his brain, men acting like animals as they fuck a pussy, they’re in heat, just like him… he even sees some men on their knees eating out some women… interesting… who said chivalry doesn’t exist anymore?

He stops in front a pair of legs… all pretty and spread wide, inviting, a puffy clit that begs to be touched and rubbed nicely, fuck… those pretty legs look just like yours… just like yours… when you swirl around and he takes a small glance of that set of thighs under your skirt…

But he’s nervous… the consent has been already given right? He doesn’t have to talk to her or even know her name… it doesn’t fucking matter because she’s not you… he holds onto her thighs squeezing softly as the girl adjusts slightly feeling that she’s about to have some company, and just as his touch arrived is gone again as they leave goosebumps, he unbuttons his pants slower that he should’ve, he grasps his cock over his boxers and releases it giving himself a few strokes to get himself rock hard, fuck he’s about to get it… he needs it so so so so so fucking bad, he needs her, he…

He rubs his cock against her clit, slapping his tip against it gently as he hears a small gasp behind… *cute* he thinks to himself… fuck it he deserves this.

He pushes himself all the way in

Grabbing onto her ankles and starting with a relentless peace, the girl cries out, he should’ve given her some time to adjusts but he just couldn’t control himself… he pushes his hips forward trying to get his dick as deep as possible as he throws his head back… “fucking- he’ll…” he hopes he’s not fucking a virgin but this girl feels like one, she feels the way you would’ve feel wrapped around him, you’re so… you’re completely devoted to him, your life is Jedi training with your master anakin, missions with Anakin, free time with Anakin… you’re his, you’re his you’re his and only his… then why is he fucking this random girl? Why won’t you love him the way he loves you so he could be fucking you instead… this infuriates him as he pistons her harder… faster, his fingers digging into her skin leaving marks, he doesn’t know if it’s allowed or not.

He huffs and growls trying to control his anger… sweet moans filling his ears and emptying his thoughts… fuck she sounds just like you

He feels a deep connection to this girl he’s fucking, the force, something? Or it’s just her tight pussy? Gummy walls massaging him so fucking nice, his balls pounding agains her cute asshole, he chuckles as he watches her hips struggle against the hardwood, struggling to stay still, he licks his fingers and starts massaging her puffy clit, rubbing nice and slow… nice and slow, contrasting with his brutal pace

Y/n, Y/n, Y/n… One day he’s going to take you…. One fucking day…

A bead of sweat falls from his forehead, he ignores the noisy looks from people as they see the young hot man fucking the young hot woman like an animal, his hips move expertly against yours, he knows what he’s doing and it shows, and there’s not much to do than to trust roughly to fuck his frustration out, he loves this, the feeling but he wants more, a deeper connection, to look into your eyes as he fucks you, your nails digging in his back as he fucks you so hard it hurts…

He pushes herself deeper as the girl cries out because his tip is kissing her cervix a painful kiss.

This girl is wet… and she’s getting wetter every seconds, he feels the little splashes her pussy is making against his thighs… cute.. she’s squirting, anakin rubs her clit faster, you would arch your back right now wouldn’t you? If it were you obviously… he sees the girls hips raise a little and he knows she’s arching, her pretty feet shake over his shoulders as he keeps pounding her

His hips falteres as he nears his release, cock twitching and pulsating nice inside her velvety pussy

“Keep going!”

Shit, her voice even sounds like yours and he knows he’s imagining it because he’s whipped but this only enhances his experience… he’s breathing heavily, he’s panting as he tries to keeps some noises from escaping but they do.. and finally he cums… she squirts and it’s all fireworks and aftershocks, spasms and pure pleasure, his legs wobble, he put on quite a show….

He pants and pants until his breathing finally even, he feels at peace, what every orgasm should be like, not like those painful and dry ones he gives himself, he sees his cum dripping from the girls pussy, fuck, he didn’t even pull out… his head is pounding and he holds the girls thighs tighter… he feels… he feels a connection…. A big one… a deep one… a nice one… he buttons up his pants and gets on his knees, like an spell has been casted on him, he spread her legs even wider and dives in, he moans at the taste as he gives her a long lick, his lips instantly wrapping around her clit… he licks his cum out of her, he’s possessed, eyes rolling back into his head as he feels the girls fingers tangling on his hair…. Cute little whines can be heard, he’s obviously overstimulating her but… he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care.

He forced his eyes to open and he looks up and sees her fingers now resting over her stomach

And he sees the delicate bracelet around her wrist….

One that he happens to share with you

His eyes widen as he stands up immediately

“Y/n” he says loud enough for you to hear as his words get drowned into the loud sex noises…. The humid air and the smell of sex are prominent.

“Im sorry master” you say apologetic with that little voice of yours, one that indicates that you know you did something wrong but you’re not sorry for it

Now everything makes sense, he told you about this place a few months ago when Obi wan and him found it… the urge the intense craving and the way his legs lead him here, the connection that he felt to this person… why he was drawer to this pretty set of thighs.

It was all you, you lead him here, taking advantage of your connection through the force…

And he fucking loves it

He dives back in savoring your pussy, biting your button delicate and tongue fucking your hole as he tastes himself, his tongue exploring your folds… your fingers tangle around his locks as you cry out again, your legs close around his head and your back arches… perfect perfect, so fucking perfect.

He feels your back arch again and your moans get louder

You’re so close… so so close.

And he’s going to drag you to the edge

And he’s going to make you cum again

Your master Anakin Skywalker is devouring you like a mad man

And it’s okay

“Master master!” You cry out

An hour later you come out of the place as Anakin waits for you in a dark alley, he sees your with your coat and your wobbly legs… the walk back home is quiet, too quiet… no words exchanged, the aura is heavy yet not uncomfortable.. he leads you inside the Jedi temple and you walk to his quarters… a punishment, not in a sexual way, a lecture… something awaits… he pushes you inside and the door locks….

Your heels echoe in the darkness as his arms wrap around your torso… and you breathe in relief.

dividers - @i92-93

TAGS: @espinathena-17 @skywqlkergf

#hayden christensen #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin imagine #anakin x reader #anakin x you #hayden christensen characters #star wars anakin #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #star

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koinotame · 2 months

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how dangerous the twst cast is as yanderes

content warnings: this is yandere stuff so plenty of relationships and mindsets of questionable healthiness. reader implied to be yuu. mentions of murder and violence (nothing explicit/graphic, but frequent. mostly not aimed at reader). most are pretty ambiguous wrt being romantic or platonic (though it’s assumed they have an at least somewhat close relationship with you). i don’t think there’s any explicit spoilers but this was written with mostly-up-to-date knowledge so maybe beware if you really want to avoid any spoilers

whole main cast is included, under the cut for length (near 4k words)! if you read ortho's section as incestuous or romantic in any other way i will shoot a laser beam at you.

fairly harmless overall ▸ i actually normally wouldn't put them together, but in either case i can't see either of the adeuce duo being too dangerous to others. yeah, they might beat someone up for getting too close to you or hurting you, but i really really can't see either of them going much farther. deuce in particular used to be a delinquent, and he does sometimes slip back into that mindset, and he does know how to beat someone up well… but he's a good boy now. your good boy. even in his delinquent phase he would've never actually killed someone, and the idea horrifies him a little too much to ever seriously consider. ace has a bit less restraint, but also a lot less experience. what he lacks in experience he does more than make up for in wit and quick learning, but… while the thought does cross his mind occasionally, he wouldn't be able to stomach actually killing someone either. he'll beat someone up if they hurt you or you ask him to though. unlike deuce, he'll probably brag about it to you if he knows your reaction would be positive.

▸ don’t you worry! your cay-kun would never kill someone! in fact, cater is very unlikely to get violent at all. when he gets jealous (which happens pretty often), he turns that bitterness inside. what do they have that he doesn’t? do you like quieter guys? is he too obsessed with magicam? do you not like the way he doesn’t let you in unless you push, because he’s too afraid you won’t like what you find and leave? is he not affectionate enough? do you not like his hair? it doesn’t matter what it is about him that you don’t like, about others that you do like. he’ll fix the problem; he’ll fix himself. he’s already used to putting on acts around others—this isn’t that different. even if it’s not him you like at this point, as long as he can stay by your side, it’ll be fine. there’s a desperate edge to his actions that’s hard to spot, but once you have is impossible to unsee. as long as you continue liking him, he’ll throw away who he is—just. don’t throw him aside once you’re bored of him, okay? keep him around forever. please. ▸ jack is another that’s fairly harmless. it’s in his nature to be overprotective, and he doesn’t see much wrong with that, but he has no issue with your friends and he’s pretty reasonable at telling apart actual threats from things like jokes. he’s much like your guard dog… or maybe he’s more like guard puppy, with the way you doubt he’d ever actually hurt anyone despite his big stature. he’s embarrassed when you tell him this, but the wagging of his tail gives away just how much he likes knowing you’re okay with—even like—his constant presence. he’s not… completely against going behind your back when someone is actually about to hurt you to deal with he issue, though. just… just occasionally, when it’s really necessary. he won’t make a habit of it. he just… doesn’t want you to see him like that. he’d never want to scare you. that’s all.

a bit less harmless but not by (too) much ▸ riddle is good and well behaved and refuses to resort to something as drastic as violence or murder, or at least he’s trying very hard to convince himself so. he’s definitely somewhat tyrannical to everyone around you even after he mellows out after his overblot, and he has no hesitation in punishing those who hurt or displease you, especially his own dormmates. even once both of you graduate, this habit of his never quite vanishes. he gets a little frantic if you show disapproval of his actions though, especially if you seem scared of him. he’s desperate to prove that he’s good and loves you and would never hurt you, and if that means toning down his ardour, he’ll try his best. the stress of possibly losing you just makes him all the more overbearing to everyone around him. he’s trying his best for you though, so… don’t you love him as much as he loves you? won’t you turns your eyes back to him and only him? ▸ kalim would never kill someone! nor would he have someone be killed. but his family's wealth and influence extends far, and anyone seeking to hurt you (or him through you) would be a fool to think otherwise. he'd never kill someone, but making sure they end up rotting in prison for the rest of their life is just doing the right thing! he might be a little blinded by his panic, sure, but— they tried to hurt you! if he's really jealous (something that doesn't happen often—he only has eyes for you, after all, so he tends to not think too much about others), it's not hard to just have them transfer. or be fired. or something. he won't tell you outright, but if you ask he sees no point in hiding it from you. if you don't react well, he gets a little frantic and insists that he really really really wouldn't ever go farther than that…! probably. ▸ epel getting into yet another fistfight for you is something you’ve grown unfortunately used to. you’re frankly convinced he outright wants you to see at this point, maybe in some misconceived idea it’ll make you think he’s tough, with the way he runs up to you like a puppy expecting praise afterwards. he’ll be torn if you fuss over him afterwards—on one hand, he wants you to think he’s tough and your coddling doesn’t really give the impression that you understand that, but it feels really, really nice when your attention is focused on only him. but as unrestrained as epel is, he’s not particularly dangerous. if you seem really put off by his actions, he might even rein it in a little (vil is glad for your cooperation, even if that wasn’t your intention). he’s more preoccupied with earning your attention and approval than he is with stuff like keeping other suitors away from you. ▸ i just think it’d be really funny if despite everything about him, rook is one of the most harmless. he’s the type of yandere to have a shrine (it’s not in his closet because he has no shame) and have his room covered in notes about you but who’d never actually kill someone. he’s also… the type who enjoys and loves everything about you. to rook, the journey is more important than the destination, and that includes you. the you on your own, the you around your friends (not that they’ll stick around too much once they notice rook), and the you around him are all different and equally worth loving. he’s not exactly shy about his stalking either, but once you get used to his constant presence, it doesn’t really get worse. maybe a little more intense, but not worse. he’s fine with pretty much any way you want to treat him, too—whether you treat him like a beloved pet or a plaything or act like you don’t know or notice him, he’ll love you all the same. forever.

holds themselves back… but not because of ethics ▸ when trey thinks about the future he wants with you, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like to be so wholly engrossed in each other that everything else might as well not exist. unfortunately, the two of you live in real life and not in a fairy tale, so he’s settled for the idea of eventually settling down and growing old with you. it’s… not entirely ethics that holds him back. he’s aware that most of the urges he gets when he sees you around others or when he sees you get hurt in someway are immoral, and he reigns himself in. aside from some people in your life suddenly finding it odd how the ever dependable senior suddenly doesn’t seem to like them much and has been giving them the cold shoulder, most people are very unlikely to realise there’s anything off about trey… including you. just let him be your normal (if fairly fussy) boyfriend, okay? and if he occasionally slips a bit of a sleeping potion into your food and masks the taste with his unique magic so you end up staying the night just so he can spend a little more time with you… that can be his little secret. ▸ it's definitely not ethics that holds ruggie back, but it would be a serious problem if he gets caught killing someone. or even just gets particularly violent with someone else. he'd do it in a heartbeat, especially for you (especially if you asked him), don't get him wrong, but, well— if he goes to jail, he's fucking his family over. if he goes to jail, he won't be able to provide for you in the future—or have any sort of relationship with you. his resolve might waver if you were to actually ask, but even then he’s determined to stick to actions he can reasonably get away with. it's not uncommon for him to use laugh with me to embarrass any guys he thinks are getting too close to you though, and it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that. ▸ jamil is a bit more restrained. murder is fine (it’s definitely not his first resort, but it’s there as an option if he really needs it—he did kind of try to kill five people, even if it was during his overblot), but using snake whisper is just so much more convenient… most of the time. due to his position as a servant of kalim, he has to carefully consider any actions he takes unless he wants there to be dire consequences for his family. unfortunately for him, this means he can’t just beat up anyone getting too close to you no matter how much he may feel like it. his unique magic does work well for him here though—and he’s not opposed to using more force if there’s a good reason (like impressing you and getting complimented by y—ehem. making sure your bullies won’t bother you again). the one person he’d rather not use his unique magic on is you. what he likes so much about you is that you’re choosing him of your own volition, and that’s worth more than any force could get him.

not the worst, but… ▸ azul tries really, really hard to keep everything he does behind your back, well. behind your back. he doesn't usually get his own hands dirty, but it would be a serious problem if you found out about the students he's been tricking into unfair contracts just because he got jealous. and it'd be one thing if it ended there, but more than that… if anyone hurts you, the tweels haven't amassed a certain reputation for nothing. if azul’s this fond of you, there’s a very high chance they’re familiar with you as well—and even if they weren’t, azul being jealous enough to send them after people that aren’t even remotely threatening your relationship is amusing enough for them to comply. he won’t go too far though, no matter how envious he may get. ruining someone’s reputation, having the twins beat them up or tricking them into unfair deals is one thing, but even someone like azul wouldn’t resort to cold-blooded murder. ▸ remember when vil, pretty lucid, tried to poison neige? yeah. with his unique magic and social standing, it would be really easy to get rid of anyone causing you issues. of course, with you being aware of his unique magic, he’d have to be careful to make sure you don’t realise, so it’s something he’d reserve for only actual emergencies. it’s also a lot easier to abuse his influence and fame to keep others away from you, whether it’s by threatening them himself or getting others to do his dirty work for him. when it comes to you and keeping your attention on him, he finds it much more rewarding to keep working on himself to meet your standards and doting on you even much than he already does. keep your eyes on him and only on him, won’t you? he’ll make it worth your while. ▸ idia, as a yandere, is incredibly desperate. he’s already perfectly content (well, not perfectly, but content enough) to just watch you through his screen and maybe chat with you online (with your anonymous pal who you definitely don’t know irl, of course), so if he gets lucky enough to be with you for real, there’s very little he won’t be willing to do to ensure it stays that way. in practice this means trying to appeal to you more than anything else; if you seem even the slightest bit unhappy with him, he’s desperately trying to fix it immediately. do you think he’s too offputting? he’ll cover his mouth and hair and— are you mad because he tried to convince you to ditch your friends and just stay with him again? he’s sorry! he doesn’t have an excuse, he’s just scared that you’ll realise you could do so much better and don’t like him that much after all. sometimes he thinks about how he definitely has the resources for more forceful and permanent measures, but then you smile at him, or tell him his smile is pretty, or run your fingers through his hair, or laugh at a comment he made and his mind goes blank and gives him a 404 error. there’s no way he could ever give that up just for some measly certainty… though the same can’t be said for those who he gets too jealous of or those who hurt you. not that you need to know that.

not needlessly violent ▸ sebek is… very enthusiastic about the things he dedicates himself to. this includes you. if you thought his devotion to malleus was excessive, it’s even worse when it comes to you. while he has no personal issues with fighting if it means protecting you (whether that protecting includes only actual threats is debatable), he takes pride in his position as malleus’ retainer. this means that no matter how he feels, he has to consider how his actions would make briar valley and his lord look. he also doesn’t really get jealous. instead (and this is almost worse), he has his own idea of how everyone else should treat you and he does get aggressive with others if he doesn’t think they’re treating you right. you deserve a heavy amount of respect and he finds it very aggravating when others don’t give you that (see: treat you like a regular person). he’s not subtle either—if anything, going behind your back on this would go against his values. he wants to be useful to you!!! he wants you to know how much he cares and how you’re superior and the one with all the power in this relationship!!! the good thing is he listens to everything to ask of him, no matter how ridiculous he finds you insisting you prefer being treated casually by your friends and peers. ▸ silver, while less outwardly enthusiastic, is no less devoted. he doesn’t really get jealous (there’s a dull ache in his chest when he sees you with others and thinks about the possibility of someone being more important to you than you are to him, but that’s not jealousy, right?), and he’s fairly realistic about what counts as a threat to you and what doesn’t. the problem is that as soon as something crosses that threshold, he’s drawing his wand (or baton. or sword. he’s trained and prepared with all three). it’s almost scarier than if he were enjoying it, because you have absolutely no clue how far he’s willing to go for your safety—or if he even has any limits when it comes to you. he has a rather twisted view on relationships, and that extends to you. you’ve been so kind and accommodating and caring, and he needs to repay you for that. he’s insistent on serving you, because his entire self worth (and by extension any care you’ve gracefully granted him) relies on being useful. also doesn’t really see himself as your proper equal, though he’s less aware of this compared to sebek, and also listens well to just about anything you ask of him. if it’s for you, he’d do anything. ▸ you have a very different definition of "not needlessly violent" than lilia, but it’s at least true he doesn’t go around picking fights. he's not bothered at all by baby chicks clinging too close to you. if anything, he might pop into the conversation and agree with them—you are great and wonderful and adorable and so much more! it makes the conversation kind of awkward, and whoever you were talking to might not seek you out as much afterwards, but beyond teasing you there's never any indication that he goes any further. of course, violence is something he’s been very accustomed to over his long life, so when someone actually hurts you he has no issue with getting the message across in a more… drastic way. as soon as he's done, he's right back to coddling you. they won't be repeating the same mistake again, so don't worry too much about it and stick close to him from now on, okay?

very needlessly violent ▸ violent probably isn’t the best way to describe leona, but he doesn’t hold back when it comes to you. what, you think he’s just going to sit back and let you go? you’re the best thing that’s happened to him, like hell he’s going to not put in the proper effort in keeping you. …even if you’re not sure if you entirely agree with the sentiment. he gets jealous very often, so it’s common to see him glowering and scaring off anyone he deems too close to you. there’s no need to go further when he knows they’ll leave you both alone afterwards, but the threat only works as well as it does because he has both the magical prowess and social influence to make good on his promises. he’ll insist he doesn’t see them as threats so much as pests hanging around and leeching off of you, but there’s some part of him deep down that’s scared you’ll decide you like someone else better after all. he’s not sure he could take even you leaving him. any actual danger to you is also dealt with quickly, and while he doesn’t want to threaten you into it, you won’t have an easy time abandoning him even if you try. you were the one who wormed your way into his life—you don’t get to leave now. ▸ yeah. lol. the tweels are very, very needlessly violent. perhaps not the most Dangerous in the grand scale, but almost definitely some of the most unpleasant. for their victims, at any rate—though they do occasionally (or not so occasionally) nearly give you a heart attack. they’d never seriously harm you though… probably. or actually kill anyone. right…? floyd tends to be the most immediately dangerous. he’s quick to turn to violence (and to get a little too into it) when you’re involved, even more than usual. someone’s bothering you? someone’s getting a bit too close to you in his opinion? you just want him to? you’re not paying enough attention to him and he knows this’ll get your focus back on him, where it should be? :) he’s not too hard to pacify, at least when it’s you offering to let him rest on your lap or offering to spend the whole day with him. jade is usually clocked as less dangerous than floyd, but. well. you know that line he says when he ruminates on how he’d react if betrayed? yeah. unlike floyd, who’s very open about his misdeeds, you’re not actually sure what jade does behind your back. you don’t want to know. the way some people in your life pale and flee at the sight of you, the way you don’t see some of them again at all, and the way jade smiles when this happens tells you all you need to know. what would happen if you betrayed him? fufu, you’d never do that so there’s no need to worry about it. ▸ didn't he attempt to blow up the school once… 💀 yeah, as cute as ortho is he's not exactly built with too many stop guards. the good news is he's easy to dissuade! the bad news is he's also very quick to escalate to really ridiculous levels. you're his older sibling, it's only natural he'd want to protect you! are you sure you don't need him to blow them up? chances are the threat alone worked well enough to deter anyone from messing with you again. you might want to have a conversation with idia about limiting some of ortho's abilities though because his enthusiasm… is a little very concerning… he does get a little jealous occasionally, but it's much easier to insert himself in the conversation and steal your attention that way. isn't your little brother cute? won't you focus some more on him? please?

▸ malleus is… malleus. violence isn’t his first resort, largely because it just… doesn’t need to be. he’s one of the five most powerful mages in the entire world. that title alone is enough to scare off anyone who’d mean to hurt you or is getting too close to you, so he rarely has to intervene in the first place. he also doesn’t mind you having other friends (though he does get lonely in your absence… make sure to make it up to him afterwards), so he really only steps in when you’re in danger. he’s not particularly worried about getting caught by you, because he’s so out of touch that it doesn’t occur to him that you may not appreciate him turning anyone who hurt you into ashes. if anything, he enjoys showing off how capable of keeping you safe he is. he’s defending you, who he cares about most in the world; why would that upset you? if you try to spin it as being worried about him getting into trouble for killing someone, he’ll be very pleased you’re worried about him instead. the only thing that would crack his calm attitude is any sort of reminder that he will long, long outlive you… but it’s best not to dwell on that. fret not, he won’t ever let you go.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #i. am NOT tagging everyone #sorry for the awkward line breaks. the editor has it out for me specifically

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pettyprocrastination · 16 days

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More security guard!simon thoughts.

He has to wear formal wear at work now. Which he hates- the man always feels constricted by a suit and tie in a way that will never be satiated no matter how much he adjusts his cuffs and the line of poor silk wrapped around his neck.

"For the love of Christ can you stop fidgeting? You're like a fucking child in church clothes." You peer over your laptop with narrowed eyes, letting your gaze focus on the way the fabric stretches over his muscles, buttons almost straining over his chest.

He says nothing. As usual.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so twitchy if you actually wore clothes that fit. You get paid enough to be able to afford a proper tailor.”

His eyes snap up to your own and you can feel his scowl underneath that stupid mask and can’t find the smile that it brings to your face. Annoying your obliged shadow has become one of the few joys in your day.

“Don’t need new clothes.”

“Yeah sure, tell that to the button that’s fighting for its life right now. If that thing flies off and takes my eye out, I’ll sue.”

“I’m sure you have a lawyer on retainer.” “Several actually. Along with a very talented tailor who has done beautiful work for the past three weddings I’ve had to attend.”

“All for your father?”

“And each blushing bride-that-was-once-to-be that still feels the need to send me a christmas card.”

Simon feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his slacks. Before he has a chance to reach for it- you confirm his curiosity.

“You have a meeting with him Saturday morning, he’ll do your measurements and then have your clothes ready for you on monday. I’ve sent the address to you and I expect the next time you come into my office, you’ll look like a normal human being and not a weightlifter stuffed into his old communion suit.” The chair creaks under his weight as he leans forward, eyes narrowing into slits as yours don’t bother looking up from your computer screen as you continue to read whatever fucking proposal you’ve been glued to all morning.

“You know-” He rasps. “I work for your father. Not for you, don’t forget that.”

Your gaze flicks up to find his own and he’s taken aback by the thin smile that stretches over your face and the smug twinkle in your eye that makes him realize perhaps the two are one in the same.

“The appointment is 9 a.m, Riley. I’m sure your time in the military has made you quite the early riser.”

Simon has learned you have an interesting way of always getting what you want, even if you end up hating it in the end.

Which is how he finds himself standing before a wrinkled old man taking his inseam at 9:30 in the fucking morning- telling him that he should stick to muted colors for his ties from now on. Something like burgundy and dark greens because “she says it’s a complementary color for your eyes and I’m inclined to agree.”

#tj talks #more security guard simon teehee #ngl he gets a lil bricked up the day he comes back to work and sees you eyeing him in that suit #but then all you say is 'maybe someday youll lose the mask and look like a normal person instead of a terrorist'#and the moment is gone #security guard!simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #random word blurbs as i keep myself entertained on my day off teehee

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risuola · 1 month

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ENTRY #6 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I open my eyes, of you I'm aware, I lower my guards, strip myself bare.

contents: arranged marriage!au — wc. 1028

series masterlist

There were many molds Satoru had to morph himself to somehow fit into and more often than not, he was squeezing in just barely — just enough to get people off his back. He had to work with people he didn’t like, negotiate with clans he couldn’t stand and face higher-ups that he felt nothing but hate towards. Gojo was no stranger to taking orders he didn’t agree with — back in time when he wasn’t exactly who he is right now. A stubborn man, above most jurisdiction. A man of independence, someone who won’t bend and break to fulfill instructions that do not fit into his beliefs.

Maybe he was too old now or maybe he defamiliarized himself with the art of adjustment to someone else’s decision, but few months had passed and he still couldn’t get used to you.

Whenever Satoru looked at you, he felt as if he was looking at the sun — despite wearing a blindfold or dark glasses. There was a brightness in your aura, a warmth and yet you were so distant and far from him. You were a puzzle he struggled to solve and he blamed it on himself because not once in his life he had to accustom himself to be a husband.

You’ve got him doubting himself.

You’ve got him scared.

You’ve got his heart beat in ways he never experienced before.

You’ve got him longing.

It was terrifying, as he thought of it, whenever he was watching you from afar, and you were just there. In the same house as him, sleeping just few meters away, allowing yourself to lower your guards and Satoru felt dread filling his veins when he realized he was expected to lower his own too. To strip himself from the protective barrier he put so much effort and time to build. To just be there with you, not just somewhere in the same space.

But he was getting there.

It began with him offering you help — little house chores he took upon himself to make your life easier and at first he made it look as if it annoyed him. Maybe it did annoy him. Snarky comments and lowercase insults dressed in overly sweetened words, pet-names spoken in tone full of venom — all that made the daily routine with you and those verbal tug-of-wars taught him respect towards you. You were strong enough and brave enough to engage in the word-fights with him and in retrospect, those were what helped both you and him adapt to the new reality of being married.

“Can you help me with those bags, Satoru?”

“You’ve got legs, sweetheart, you can do this yourself.”

“Move from the damn couch, Gojo, and make yourself useful.”

“Last name, huh? You spoke it with so much venom, I’d figure you hate it if you it wasn’t yours as well.”

“Come here, darling, and help me with those bags.”

And then, Satoru learned what you wanted his help with. He observed what things you didn’t like doing and began doing them himself. It felt natural. A place he was obliged to move into slowly became a house he was walking towards every day with a strange feeling of warmth in his chest, because it was where he will be able to rest, to decompress. It was a place where he will eat or sleep. It was a place where he’ll see you.

Next thing Gojo worked on was infinity. Or rather, turning it off and he had to actively think of it whenever he was home. Few times you tried to touch him and couldn’t made him feel the sort of shame he never felt before. He was so used to always being protected that when he had to face you, he didn’t realize that he doesn’t need to protect himself from you. So he took it off, baring himself before you and allowing himself to get familiar with the soft, cold pads of your fingers. With the way your breath feels on his skin — hot and intimate — and the way your lips feel on his own.

Then it became unconscious for him to turn off his technique the moment he steps into the house.

Then he was catching himself staring. His eyes lingered on you a little too long, a little too intense and whenever you noticed, he found himself flustered. Hmpf-ing and turning his head away, ignoring the muffled chuckles you always tried to suppress and then, he was smiling too.

Then, he was missing the soft, sweet and floral scent of your perfume whenever he was away for work.

Then, he was replaying the gentle tone of your voice in his mind, finding solace in the memory.

And then—

“Satoru, come to bed.”

—he was caught off guard yet again.

But he moved. A subconscious sequence of muscle contractions and releases, some taken steps and climbed up stairs — all of which led him to a place he had been avoiding for all of the weeks, months, that passed since he vowed himself to you.

“It’s big enough, just–“ your voice was gentle, so very gentle, when you got under the covers first. In the make-shift pajama he recognized as one of his own t-shirts — way too expensive to be a sleeping attire, yet he couldn’t care less. “Just sleep here. You don’t have to sleep on the couch, uncomfortable every night.”

And so he did. Half-bare, as he was used to sleep, he allowed himself to rest next to you. His weight sunk into the soft mattress, his bones straightened up deliciously in the heavenly cocoon of cotton sheets, all scented just slightly with the washing detergents and your perfume. A sigh escaped his mouth, he melted into the luxury of the bed and nuzzled his cheek into one of the pillows.

“Good?”

“Very good,” he admitted, his eyes following the up of your hip and down of your waist, then again up along the curve of your shoulder until he finally looked at your face. Your eyes were already closed, your eyelids covering the beautiful color underneath them and it was a shame he couldn’t see it before he lowered his own. “Goodnight.”

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 4 months

Note

incoming smutty thoughts:

the other night i had a dream i asked something like “how come you always tell me to talk and you rarely do?” and he replied “i like your voice more.” so we know bucky is the “ask for what you want type,” but do you think he’s more or less verbal than her in bed? he’s generally quiet, do you think maybe that leads to him talking dirty more?

Oh, I love this, because I do often write about him dirty talking.

I think we all know that Bucky only speaks when he absolutely has to and even then, it's usually something sarcastic or cynical. Also, Bucky isn’t the best with words. Yes, he can lie and manipulate well, but most of that is body language and perception. It’s fascinating how few words he has to utilise to get what he wants. His skill is mainly in listening and observing and most people know this about him, so they let him.

Just as most people have the good sense to be somewhat on their guard around him, especially when Bucky doesn’t bother to be sly about keeping a close eye on everyone and everything. But he has never really been able to unnerve you. Or… Maybe he has, but it only made you talk more. You share unapologetically and you ramble and you show most of your emotions. At first, he thought it was foolish to be so open and vulnerable. Now, he can see it has probably saved your life (and others’ lives) more times than he can count. With you living, speaking and feeling so out in the open, he doesn’t have to pay so much attention to you.

And yet…

The man cannot stop himself from paying attention to you. Everything else just kind of blurs. It mostly amuses everyone around Bucky how distracted he gets. They pull petty little pranks when he isn’t paying attention. And they fail awkwardly, because Bucky might be smitten, but he’s still a trained soldier.

So yes, Bucky is quiet and you’ve always known that about him. You expected him to be more quiet in bed, too. But he has learned that he loves how responsive you are and it just so happens that you get more responsive when he speaks to you. When Bucky has his tongue buried between your legs or his cock hitting your cervix, he usually grounds you by splaying a wide palm over your back, or thigh, or tummy. However, Bucky has found he likes the way you shudder when he mumbles against your neck or the shell of your ear. He likes how you can only respond with a soft mewl when he uses his voice.

Sometimes he asks you a question and then drives his cock into you with a thorough thrust at the end, making you writhe under him and choke on air. Then he nuzzles his nose over your pulse with a soft laugh. “Who’s the quiet one now, huh?”

You want to answer him, you do, but fuck– his fingers are at your clit and his teeth bite into your collar bone and he’s moaning and– and– Oh God… But he talks you through it. Every step of the way. Teasing. Coaxing. Soothing. Praising.

“That’s the spot.”

“Look at you,” when your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Hug me tighter, sweetheart,” he’ll groan when you clench around him tightly. “Fuck. Good girl.”

“That’s my girl,” when you come. And the sounds you make - that will have him nearly go blind with pleasure. “There you go. Keep coming for me.”

#answered #drabble #writing #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #oh oops #hope you enjoy it

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cupcakeinat0r · 3 months

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A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class.

pt.3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Prof. O’Hara who now tutors you on certain weekdays. You two have grown close, not afraid to exchange little glances here and there throughout class.

And when he tutors you, he’ll sometimes migrate to the back of your seat while you practice formulas, and he’d rake his thick fingers through your scalp lovingly. You’d close your eyes, leaning into him, his belly acting as your pillow as he messaged your head and finger-brushed your hair. He’s speaking softly to you, going on and on about genetic variations and whatnot but you aren’t getting a single word, yet you hum ‘mhm’ occasionally just so that he feels like you’re listening.

Granted, if someone were to walk in and see you two like this, it would surely end in a mess, but truthfully, it was an innocent act. It was intimate, yes, but he didn’t think there was any harm in playing with your hair while he tutored. He just wanted to make sure his fav girl was relaxed while learning.

After he took you out to grab a snack when you broke down, you started bringing little treats with you to school so that you could leave them with him after a class or tutoring session.

Saying it was to ‘repay him for his generosity that day’ was only half of it, the other being that you had it so so so bad for your adorable genetics professor, and you found out that his guilty pleasure is sweet treats.

What you don’t know is that, really, it’s you. You’re his guilty pleasure. He gets so ruffled anytime you leave a little pastry wrapped in a cute bow on his desk. He’d look at the tiny gift as if it were a specimen, unable to do or say anything except clear his throat and fix his glasses as he blurts out a measly “t-thank you, hun!”

Miguel never knew what to do with himself with this new sweet gesture of yours (except maybe pump himself in his office just from the mere fact that you gave him something). It was silly, really. You had this serious grump flustered over pastries.

And you knew he’d surely lose his job if you made any monumental advances, and leaving him treats was the most innocent thing you could afford to do in public, so you settled for this. Besides, it’ll all contribute to his ass DadBod, so it’s a win win.

On the other hand, Miguel didn’t know for how long he’d be able to settle for this or how much longer he can play with your hair. It felt like as the days go by, you become prettier, smarter, lovelier, kinder, sexier…. It was all too much. He had an itch.

One day, the class had a quiz. You had finished earlier than everyone else, and began online shopping while you waited for the others to finish. Miguel was walking around the hall in case anyone needed help, and he noticed you were looking at a certain skirt and top.

He took a mental note of it.

You come into his office the next day for tutoring and find a pink gift bag on his desk adorned by more pink tissue paper.

“Just uh… a little something for all your hard work, mama.” He muttered, the most adorable, shy smile on his flushed face.

You were thrilled to find the skirt and top you were looking at just the day before. You instantly go to hug him, the second time you two would hug. Miguel feels a little more prepared for this one, and this time, even peppers the tiniest kiss on top of your head, your body engulfed in his fluffy arms and soft belly.

That was the first of many gifts to come, and you’d find a gift bag in every tutoring session you had with him from then on.

You’d walk into class wearing the things he’d buy you, inflicting the hardest boner on him when you do. He was like a sick puppy when looking at you, sporting your new necklace, for example. He would get stuck in a dream-like state imagining how it would look dangling, swinging with each pound of his slow thrusting into your tight pussy.

It would be slow. He wanted to treasure you, savor you. An angel like you deserved princess treatment, and he’d make sure that’s what you received. He’d worship you. He’d press a trail of kisses from your sternum down to your pelvic, looking up at you through his bifocals as he does, then removing them just before he makes dinner of your cunt. You’d cum multiple times before he even thinks about fucking you with his own cock, putting your pleasure before his. He wouldn’t be able to stop blabbering about how pretty you look like this, under him. How beautiful you are. How good you are for him. How much he wants, no… loves you. He’d be such a loser, but he’d be your loser. All yours.

His fantasies are shooed away, as well as his dazed smile when he sees someone approach you. A boy.

He seems to really like you. He’s a good looking boy. He was closer to your age. He was very fit. Miguel wants to be upset. He wants to be jealous, but… he technically can’t. You aren’t his. Far from it. and maybe it should stay that way. The boy would be good for you. Miguel sees you smile back at him. Sweet girl. You two would make the cute couple. You probably deserve him. Yea…

What was he thinking that he, some science professor who had let himself go, would have a chance with you, the most beautiful girl in the entire world?

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/n: sorry not sorry that I keep edging y’all, Mwheheheheheheh <3 Still, I hope u like it <3

Also, @little-lovelace , looking for this, luv??? <3

Next part (head canons)

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

Gna start taggin cuties, lmk if u wanna b tagged 4 next one <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive

@faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi

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solar-wing · 3 months

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⚣ Jason Todd: NSFW Alphabet 🔴

⚣🔴 A/N → I forgot I had written these out and had them on my old account. Did a little fine-tuning to them though. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | it's an NSFW alphabet so just expect the unexpected and the expected.

⚣🔴 Words → 3.6K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🔴

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man can go from rough and hard to soft and gentle in literal seconds. It’s like watching someone come out of a trance or possession. He’ll clean you up with a fresh rag and make sure you’re comfortable, especially if you’re sore (you’ll most definitely be). He’s clingy though.

You won’t get anywhere without him right beside you. And he won’t say it, but he loves it when you try to take care of him too. Jason is dominant and prefers to be in control, but that man is as needy as a newborn baby, and it gets 10x worse after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jason’s relationship with his body is difficult, but, if we’re talking about one where he’s healed, maybe been to therapy, and (slightly) moved on from his trauma, he probably favors his arms, chest, and hands. Jason prefers strength overlooking aesthetically fit, and he kind of always looks like he’s bulking but it's defined somehow. And because that adds to his overall size and level of intimidation, he loves working on those specific groups to increase them so he can in turn use them to intimidate people, especially those who try to flirt with you in front of him.

Now, on the other end, Jason is 100% an ass man. You can not change my mind. He loves you wearing any kind of tight or fitting material that molds to the shape of your butt and just being able to oogle and smack it when he wants. And smack it he does. Dude has the equivalent of 100 cheese necks in one palm and you feel it every time he lands one on your ass.

Bonus points if you have thick thighs that jiggle when you walk. He’ll be paying extra special attention to those, especially if you’re wearing any kind of short shorts or fitted athletic wear. He also has a slight obsession or fascination with your neck. Whether in the act or just chilling, his hands will somehow find their way to your neck whether it’s a gentle caress or a firm grip. And if he’s feeling a little possessive or riled up in the moment (which is frequent) it’s his favorite place to mark, and if you try to cover them up, it’s more motivation for him to leave even bigger ones. He likes it when people can tell and see that you belong to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

More of an oozer than a shooter unless he’s been holding a load in for a while. And his loads are thick. He may not shoot far but he’ll definitely give you enough to fill the bottom of a glass.

Also, no questions asked, he’s coming inside you. You just have to choose if it’s going to be your mouth or ass. Don’t ask, it’s a territorial thing with him. The thought of you walking around and greeting people while his babies are lodged deep inside your ass or fresh down your esophagus does wonders for his pride.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you’re not around and he’s really horny, he’ll masturbate with a piece of your clothing. Sometimes, he’ll also call you in the middle of it and won’t tell you just so he can hear your voice while edging himself to completion.

He also will purposely start arguments with you so you can have a reason to have angry make-up sex later.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Some small experiences before he died, and little hookups here and there when he came back and was somewhat in a good place with Bruce and himself. That being said, he gets most of his experience from his relationship with you. He quickly learns what he does like and what he doesn’t, and makes it known to you immediately.

He also may or may not go to Dick for advice or tips on how to improve. Going to Bruce is out of the question. And not just because that’s still technically his dad.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy for one. It’s something about him grabbing you by your hair or even better, around your neck and forcing your body against his while he pounds into you from behind. He gets an exhilarating high from having you at his mercy and you surrendering yourself to him.

He also does favor missionary if he’s in a slightly more tender mood. But, If he’s feeling jealous or pissed off about something, he’s putting you up against a wall or in a corner with his hands around your neck and ramming you like there’s no tomorrow. Your legs will not be functioning for 24 hours.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tends to be more serious in the moment. When he’s in the mood, he’s fully in it. Especially if he needs to get his frustrations out. However, the sound of you moaning and screaming his name will definitely bring a smug grin to his face.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself adequately groomed. May grow some facial hair and have a little bush down there along with a happy trail but he’s good about keeping it neat and clean. And, if you want him to, he’ll shave it all, no questions needed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This he struggles with at times. It’s something he wasn’t given much of (especially with Bruce) so he doesn’t really know how to act when in those moments and he tends to get really uncomfortable, especially if it’s a particularly vulnerable moment for him. As far as during sex, he’s definitely on the more rough and brutish side, but he’ll always do his best to check on you.

It’s something he’s getting better at though. Even in moments without sex where you two are just lounging and sitting together, he’s good at reading you and knowing what you want or how to make you happy with small gestures and actions. He just wants to make sure you’re happy and that you feel loved (and that you belong to him and only him).

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Mentioned with dirty secrets. Really only does it when you’re not around. He’ll rarely do it just for the heck of it. He prefers getting his pleasure from pleasing and fucking (owning) you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dominance/Submission (Power Play) - Jason has had many things happen to him that he didn’t want or couldn’t control. It’s basically what influences this kink more than others. You submitting to Jason, letting him lead and have full control in sex and even in domestic scenarios creates a very satisfying and pleasurable feeling inside him. It also serves as reassurance for him, knowing that you fully trust him to the point where you basically surrender yourself to him. Getting back to more dirty things, this kink can include other aspects such as orgasm denial, bondage (on you), and verbal affirmation of your submission (dirty talk).

Choking (giving only) - This plays into the dominant/submission kink as well. It’s a rush from the feeling of control he has over whether you get to breathe or not while pounding your brains out. But, he’ll never go too far and he hopes you know that. However, he’s not at all okay with it being done to him. He does not like his neck being touched at all for that matter. Call it PTSD from his time with Joker and other things that have happened to him in the past, so it’s a big no-no. Although, with time and him getting more comfortable in the relationship, if he gives you a clear consenting sign that he’s okay with it, he’ll allow a gentle caress and rub down his neck, but only from you. Anyone else who tries to touch him on his neck risks several broken limbs.

Mirror Sex - A key part of his possessive nature toward you. He loves seeing himself fuck into you and even more, his ego gets a big boost from seeing you turn into an erotic mess while he’s inside you.

Size Difference - The fact that Jason can pick you up and throw you around like a rag doll, dwarfs you in size, or that his clothes (even if you’re tall and broad) can look three sizes too big on you is a major turn-on for him. He won’t say it, but he likes the idea of someone smaller than him that he can protect.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Weird enough, the thought comes to mind that Jason has a weird obsession with having sex with you in tight spaces. Mainly, places like the shower or the car. It ties a bit into his power and size kink. Something about the size of his body towering over you in a small space riles him up like no other. It’s the feeling or sensation that he’s got you cornered that drives that feeling. Kind of like an outlet for him to deal with his trauma of when he was actually trapped/cornered.

Also, he has it in his mind that whenever you move in together, he has to fuck you on every single available surface in your place. Christening your home with your love is how he likes to think of it. Plus, he gets a nasty kick out of when guests are over, imagining in his mind that they’re sitting in places where he had you crying out and cumming on his dick multiple times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

#1:Jealousy & Possessiveness – The idea of you finding anyone else attractive, let alone giving them your attention which is only supposed to be reserved for him, he’ll be quick to snatch you into the nearest closet or bathroom to remind you who you belong to. And it doesn’t matter who it is besides your parents or his family. It could be the barista at the cafe, a random guy who gave you a friendly nod, or god forbid, an old classmate or co-worker you happened to bump into on the street. Jason is a selfish & protective little fucker who doesn’t even want to consider the idea of someone else thinking they can have what’s only for him.

#2: Clothes – Please, exercise caution when picking your outfit for any particular event. Jason’s never gonna tell you what you can’t wear, but keep in mind that again, he’s a selfish and protective little fucker who has the sex drive of a large animal. Wearing anything even slightly tight or a bit showy for his taste can and will land you in many situations where Jason has pulled you aside somewhere quiet and private to have at your body. And don’t let him catch others ogling your outfit or even giving you the slightest compliment or all hell is breaking loose. Not to say he doesn’t like it, he loves it. But, you’re for his eyes only. Now, if it’s his clothes you’re wearing out, please be aware that at some point, you may be buying him a new shirt/hoodie cause he’s about to rip it off you.

#3: Arguing – Something in that man thrives on chaos, and when you and he are going at it, he can’t help but get hard. And again, hot, angry makeup sex. Duh…

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He will not do any form of rape/forced play, including machoism and sadism. His vigilante life and past trauma already left a deep scar on him and anything that resembles that can and will trigger him. Plus, he knows he’s way stronger and doesn’t want to even take the risk of hurting you in any way.

Unless we’re talking Arkham Jason. That’s a completely different story.

He would clear it with you first that you’re okay with bondage and choking, but he doesn’t want it performed on him, especially the choking, as we’re already aware that he’s very sensitive about his neck.

Any extreme BDSM kinks like piss play or fisting is also a major turn-off for him. Exhibitionism is a straight-up no. Jason would rather drink from the Lazarus pit than have anyone looking at you in a state that he’s only allowed to see you in. Don’t even attempt to pitch the idea of a threesome or foursome or just any suggestion of bringing someone else in on your fun. It will turn into a major argument and not a good one that ends in happy fun.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Inexperienced but picks it up quickly and learns what gets more of a reaction from you. He’s a fast learner and loves it when he’s able to drive you over the edge with his mouth alone. Also, if we’re talking about eating out, he’ll happily do it till the sun turns blue. There’s something about tasting you on his tongue that just really gets him riled up.

But, if we’re talking dick-sucking, definitely prefers receiving over giving. Jason finds it extremely hot seeing you go up and down on him with your mouth, especially when he grabs your hair or head and starts to force your head up and down or starts thrusting in your mouth. He loves seeing you slobber and choke all over him. And if you look up and give him a teary-eyed but submissive look, game over (in a good way).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely fast and rough. And if it’s not, you can bet he’s delivering some powerful strokes that will have you squeezing and clenching your legs all around him. Plus, he notices the harder he goes, the more you squeeze yourself against him while pressing your nails into his back and biting at his skin, trying to silence your loud moans and cries. Though, it’s probably not the best idea because he’ll just go even harder to force those noises out of you. And, those are marks and scars he will PROUDLY wear.

It takes him time (if you even decide at all that you want him to) to learn how to move at a softer, slower, and more sensual pace. But, if it’s something you truly desire, he’ll work on it and do everything he can to make you happy. But, that doesn’t mean rough sex goes away. It actually makes it even more hot, especially when Jason is in one of his moods.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not opposed to them. But, Jason likes to take his time with you. He doesn’t like to rush and hates the idea of feeling as if someone is going to interrupt him. No one should intrude upon your special time with each other. God bless (and protect) the unlucky souls that do.

But, if he’s really in the mood and he can’t get you to an ideal private place in a fast enough time, he’s not above pulling you into the nearest dark room or corner to get down and dirty, especially if he’s feeling a little territorial because someone decided they wanted to be brave stupid and hit on you. He’s more than happy to remind you who you’re in a relationship with. Or if you’re not in a relationship, then just who’s fucking you every single night, plain and simple. Either way, quickies to him are basically just his versions of reminders to you for what happens when he gets a bit jealous.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You’d have to move at a snail’s pace with him if you want to introduce something new to your routine. If it’s something small, then he may go ahead and give in to it, but Jason craves consistency and normalcy, and that includes sex. Asking him to try something new can hit a sore spot cause it may seem like what you two are doing now isn’t enough for you anymore.

But, if you reassure him it’s not that, and just slowly introduce the idea to him, (double points if he likes it off the start) then you’re definitely in for a treat. For you, and you only, he is willing to step out of his comfort zone, as long as it’s not too crazy or on his no-no list.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on his mood and what prompted the sex. He could go for one round or two if he’s just feeling a little feral and wants a piece of you. If it’s a jealous or angry fit after an argument, you might wanna cancel any plans after, cause he’s certainly not letting you leave the bed, the house, or wherever you are until your legs are basically useless.

The same thing goes for the duration of a round, especially if you’ve got the good good (hehe). If you’re really giving it to him. Mans may be lucky to make it past 10 minutes, but that’s not too bad. It means he can cuddle you, or you cuddle him. Either way, cuddles are non-negotiable after a round. But, if you two just got done hashing it out over something or you decided to poke one too many of his buttons, he’s dragging it out as long as he can. This means exiting out of you whenever he feels like he’s getting too close, and denying you your own orgasm as well (that damn control factor strikes again).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jason doesn’t own any toys and never really had an interest in them. It’s not something he’d really get into on his own and only would experiment with them if you asked. The most he’s got is handcuffs or rope he’d use for bondage but that’s as far as he would take it.

If you were to use toys, he’d definitely prefer him using them on you unless there was something else specific involved that didn’t cross one of his boundaries.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

50/50. If you’re teasing him, payback’s a fucker named Jason. He’ll kiss all your sweet spots, nibble on your chest, and barely give any attention to your dick/genitals. Especially if he’s in one of his ‘I want to hear you beg for me, tell me who owns you’ moods.

If he wants to get to the point, then you can expect to be promptly thrown onto the bed or whatever surface is nearby, and the most he’ll do here is tie or cuff your hands so you can’t touch him, knowing how much you like to feel his body while he’s ramming yours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jason’s loud. But, in a very grunty-like way. You may have to fight tooth and nail to get him to moan for you, but by golly is he expressive when you manage to get it out of him. For the most part, though, he’s giving grunts, growls, and grumbles. You’ll mainly hear him whisper into your ear, reminding you that he’s the one currently plowing your guts and that no one else is allowed to see you like this but him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He likes fucking you with clothes on frequently. You’re wearing a tight compression shirt that’s showing your pecs, abs, and just overall body, he’s got you bent over a surface while oogling your muscle constricting under a shirt. Wearing a jockstrap or thong in the gym and he can see it, he’s pulling them down and that underwear aside just enough to get inside you. You’re not complaining though. If he’s wearing his own compression and muscle shirts all the better for you, getting to ogle and rub his muscles while he’s hammering inside of you like an animal.

He also really enjoys massages. Particularly on his shoulders, back, and chest. He loves it when you lick and play around with the head of his dick and when you run your fingers through his hair while his face is buried in your neck kissing and leaving marks all over.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bigger than average.

8-9 inches minimum. He’s thick and girthy down as well. Maybe narrower at the base with a really large and bulbous head. Entering can be a bit of a challenge, but it gets easier the further he gets inside. Also has a curve to his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jason has a fairly high sex drive and the Lazarus pit only increased that. His libido can sometimes be more emotion-driven so feelings of love, anger, or even just a slight irritation will get him hard.

Maybe you’re not fucking every hour of the day, but he’s gotta have you in some shape or form at least once or twice a day. Whether it’s a blowjob, hand-job, or one of his jealous reminder quickies.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can go to sleep fairly quickly, but only after he’s properly cared for you and cleaned you up. Also, he has to have your body pressed against him. Cuddles are vitally important and you should never once not want to cuddle him. It’s the one intimate thing he’s got down perfectly to a T.

However, he has more than once fallen asleep while still inside you and in the position you both finished in. It can lead to a comfortable or uncomfortable scenario, depending on the situation.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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rileyslibrary · 10 months

Note

Idk if you’re taking commissions rn but if you are.. Can you do one where reader acts as Ghosts weighted blanket after an anxiety attack? I feel like he’d love that xx

I’m glad you asked for the reader to act as Ghost’s weighted blanket instead of the other way around because that would be like being flattened by a road roller. Also, it is good to note that anxiety attacks are not the same as panic attacks. Yes, they do have some similarities, but they differ. This story is about Ghost having an anxiety attack, so bear that in mind.

And let’s be clear here: he would never explicitly ask you to do such a thing.

Never.

In fact, he would never ask you to do anything that would need you to be physically attached to him, neither from the front nor back. And his anxiety, if he ever suffers from it—which I’m sure he does because, come on, who doesn’t in our times, plus it is mentioned in the comics—he can cover it pretty well.

But it takes one to know one, right? You’ve had your fair share of anxiety attacks; you know they are not sudden or obvious. Instead, they develop slowly, gradually. That sense of general unease lingers, haunting him for weeks, even months. He doesn’t start trembling or shaking out of nowhere. This one is subtle but constant, like a leaky faucet that drips every few seconds. He feels restless and triggered by something vague that he can’t understand himself. All. The. Time.

He knows what a panic attack is; he experienced it multiple times before, mainly due to the nature of his work. But an anxiety attack? To a soldier who associated the word “attack” with something swift, sudden and imminent? There’s no such thing as an anxiety attack to him.

No.

He doesn’t comprehend this constant need to stay in control, why he’s always tense, his inability to take a full, deep breath. To him, that’s just how his body functions. Relaxation has been a foreign concept since childhood, so he’s normalised it. And he learned how to bear these symptoms instead of understanding what triggers them and learning how to alleviate them.

You’ve observed the pattern; he tends to become like that a few months before a mission, so you were able to put one and one together.

And one day, you find him lying face-down on the bed. Something prompts you, and you crawl on top of him. He shifts and asks you, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing”. Maybe he even tries to stand up while you are on his back, and you ask him to trust you; he’ll see.

He’s hesitant but obeys, though he’s more alert than ever now. You settle on top of him; he feels like he’s carved from wood, but not because of his physique. He’s tense. Stiff. Rigid. He’s afraid to let go. He holds his breath. His palms are pressed into the mattress beside his chest, ready to spring into a burpee and launch you back to where you came from.

Yet he doesn’t do it. Slowly his muscles relax under your body, and you feel him gradually—though clumsily—release tension in each body part; his legs, back, and then his shoulders. He finally lets go of the breath he’s been holding, replaced by a long exhale, his first in months. He places his hands on the sides of his body and lets out a repressed chuckle.

You ask him why he’s laughing, and he asks you to turn your face away because you are breathing into his ear. You comply.

With you not watching, he can finally close his eyes now. Good.

But even Ghost can take so much weight. Or so much intimacy. After a while, he snaps out of it, and he wriggles out from under you, letting you fall on the mattress, muttering a brief “Enough.” He doesn’t thank you for anything. What did you really do? Yes, he feels a little lighter, and his mind is clearer, but all you did was rest on him. That’s all. No need to thank you for that.

He needs it, though. Again and again. No, he doesn’t need you, of course. No, silly. He craves that sensation again—letting go. So whenever he feels overwhelmed, he awkwardly gestures toward his back and asks you sternly to “do that thing”. And you try to suppress your laughter and obey his command.

And slowly, just like his anxiety attacks come and go, he realises that it’s not just your weight on top of him that soothes him. It’s you, your will to make him feel better, your heart beating against his back, your form attached to him that makes all this chaos in the world feel a little bit more manageable than before.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost cod mwii

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obsessive-valentine · 5 months

Note

Errmmm what about yandre beffy military men 🥹🥹🥹

Yandere!Ex-Military-Man x GN!Reader

Probably not what you were asking for but it inspired me to write this, hope you like this bear with a soft heart and a whole lot of feelings. Dry random Headcanons let me know if you want more of him. TW unspecified age gap and mention of murder

He retired from the military after serving for 10 years, wanting to go back to working odd jobs and having peace and quiet. He didn’t have much waiting for him when he got home but his community sure did respect him and he missed his home. That’s as until you came along. He wasn’t expecting to find love at all, especially now he’s late 30’s and on top of that his time serving aged his face.

Often you both get odd looks and maybe offensive questions about the age gap, but he doesn’t get offended usually bluntly correcting them and carrying on with his day not giving it a second thought.

He’d messed around with a few women but they never went far, it never felt right. But with you he wants to take it slow, make sure you know he loves you as a equal not as some phase to get his rocks off. Maybe he’ll marry you one day.

Scary dog privileges any time anywhere, he’s most always looming behind you scaring off anyone he wants.

Convinces you to spend most nights at his house, he doesn’t expect sex or anything, he just likes being able to provide for you and be around you. Which is a bit hard in the beginning of the relationship when you live else where.

At some point it becomes more logical to live with him officially instead of paying rent to a place you rarely go. Especially when the heating or air-con keeps suspiciously breaking, so you have to go to his house to cuddle up or use his pool to cool down.

He’s pretty domestic for a man who could bench press a bear, loves cooking dinner for you and sometimes visits your work to drop off food if he’s passing by (actually books out time from work to deliver you food)

Could and would kill for you. He’s learned a lot during his serving years and is could be very dangerous with just his hands.

Very affectionate, be prepared for lots of PDA. Also possessive, always has a arm slung around you or holding your hand just so people get the message and don’t try ask your number or gawk at you right infront of him.

Can seem a bit stand-off-ish and reserved when around others but when you show up there’s a noticeable relaxing effect on him. He also doesn’t get angry in-front of you, he’s learned how to keep his anger to himself and blow it off at the gym. Pretty controlled with his emotions for a man who feels a lot.

You help him sleep peacefully, some nights he gets up a few times from unpleasant memories and possible PTSD, but not so much with you around.

Maybe sometimes unintentionally man-handles you... lovingly though! He can’t help but snatch you up or pull you onto his chest when his feelings get to big. Would stop at the slightest sign of discomfort.

#Ex-Military Yandere #yandere oc #yandere #x reader

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bucks-babe · 10 days

Text

Fuckboy!Bucky NSFW Alphabet

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This is for Bucky from this fic. Thanks to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for reading through this mess and making comments; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Loverboy will take care of you after. He has no problem pounding into you like you’re a toy, contorting your body every which way, he loves it just as much as you do. He knows that he can be rough with you at times, not that you weren’t okay with it, but he tends to feel a bit bad after.

He won’t let you move a muscle, doting on you hand and foot. You need to go to the bathroom, he’s carrying you the whole way, and don’t even think about getting up on your own. Water? He’s running to the kitchen and grabbing you ice cold water without hesitation. Cuddles? Sweets, you don’t even have to ask for them. Now that Loverboy has experienced what aftercare is, it’s become one of his favorite parts of sex. He lives to be able to take care of you, show you how much he loves you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Before he met you he would’ve said his cock, but his little gremlin of a girlfriend goes feral over his hands, desperate for them to be on you in some way. Driving? His hand better be on your thigh, rubbing your silky skin. Walking together? He better have his hand in yours or wrapped around you. Sleeping? Oh, he has to be touching you, holding you. You go crazy over the veins in his hands, drenched just from the sight of them, begging for him to fingerfuck you, make you cum all over them and have him gag you with your own cum.

His favorite body part of yours? - Your eyes. He loves to make you look at him while he fucks you stupid, struggling to keep your eyes open, let alone focused on him. He swears that he could cum just from how sexy it is to look into your eyes while you cum, seeing them roll into the back of your head, only the whites visible.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to mark you with his cum, claiming you as his. He loves a good facial, cum on your tits and ass, that’s all well and good, but what he really craves is seeing himself leak out of your cunt. It took him so long to muster up the courage to get tested for STDs and now that he did, he has been fucking you raw every chance he can get. And he’ll be damned if all of his load doesn’t go inside your perfect cunt, fucking it back into you with his fingers until you pull away, too sensitive to continue. But he’ll still gather up the remnants and share them with you in a heated kiss after.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Bucky wants to fuck you with his balls, have them nestled in your ass while a fleshlight chokes his dick. He wants to drive you crazy, having you on your stomach laying prone, only able to hear his moans and the squelching of the toy sliding up and down his cock. He wants to hear you beg for him to fuck you, wants you to feel his sac clench and tighten before he pours his load into the toy, having you slurp it out afterwards.

He wants you to peg him while he fucks into the toy, letting your thrusts push him in. Maybe with a vibe on his sac, experiencing as much pleasure as possible, have you keep going until he taps out, not able to cum anymore. He’s going to ask you, and soon because he needs it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While Bucky has slept with a lot of girls, his knowledge of how to pleasure a woman was limited. He would leave it up to his partner to take care of herself, sometimes even leaving before she finished. The first time he had sex with you, you set him straight, not letting him continue to make mistakes when it came to your pleasure.

You weren’t going to fake pleasure for any man, not even Bucky, so he learned pretty fast what made you tick. And for the first time he cared more about his partner’s pleasure than his own. So your loverboy is more than capable of rendering you boneless and cockdrunk.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s a toss up with Loverboy. Sometimes he wants you face down ass up, pounding into you, watching the way your flesh jiggles with every thrust.

“Oh fuck, sweets. Pussy’s so fucking tight, choking my cock. Wish you could see this pretty ass bouncing, sexiest woman ever, sweets.” With each thrust Bucky almost whimpers, desperately trying to last, not wanting to give up his view. He can’t help it, you truly are the sexiest woman on the planet. He doesn’t know how he ever found another woman attractive when you’re on his bed like this, taking everything he has to offer.

Rough hands grab your hips, pulling you back harder against him, hitting your g-spot every time he bottoms out. His hands slapping your soft flesh, moaning with each jiggle. More than once you’ve lost the ability to sit properly for a few days with the amount of spanks he gives you, not that you would have it any other way.

As much as he loves to watch your body, he loves to see your face even more. Sex had never been an intimate moment for him. Pounding, getting his release, rinse, repeat. But Loverboy is absolutely smitten by you.

“Good girl, let me see that pretty face when I slide into you.”

“Most beautiful woman.”

“Never gonna get tired of watching you take me.”

He craves to have every inch of his body pressed against yours, feeling more than lust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Loverboy can be goofy, more often than not at least one of you giggles before, during or after. He still doesn’t understand why, but you love to see him swing his cock in circles, biting your lip and clenching your thighs together. He’s almost never 100% serious during sex, loving the intimacy of being so comfortable together.

“C’mon Loverboy, just once? Why are you being mean to me? Let me talk to him. He wouldn’t treat me like this.”

“Sweets, are you really going to make me do this every time?”

“He likes it, Buck.”

“Can you please not talk about my dick like it’s another man when I’m about to fuck you?”

You both stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying a word, silently challenging each other before Bucky relents and circles his hips. “Thank you, Loverboy. Was that so hard?”

He stops his movements, arms by his side, not saying a word before you burst into laughter. “Loverboy, you look like that emoji of the guy standing still.”

He joins in after a few moments, not able to suppress his laughter any more. “Alright, sweets, but you won’t be laughing in a minute.”

Bucky also can’t help but giggle when your body makes certain sounds.

You groan as Bucky flips you over, raising your hips. You bury your head into the pillows as soon as you hear it, the sound of air escaping you. The change in positions always betraying you.

Bucky’s moans mix with his light laughter, he’s still a man after all, and any sound that resembles a fart will always make him laugh, no matter how hard or horny he is. “Sweets, you better get back here. Don’t you take my pretty girl away from me.”

You flip yourself back down on the bed. “You can have her but it has to be like this.”

“Sweets-” You cut him off with a glare.

“Don’t laugh at me, it’s your fault.” Bucky falls on you, a sweet smile gracing his lips.

“Not laughing at you, sweets, but it was kind of funny.”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself trimmed, usually using a pair of hair scissors to keep his bush tamed. He hates having a full bush, it feels weird when he wears underwear. He uses an electric razor every so often when he feels like going bald, but he doesn’t do that too often. The one time he saw you wince when he was fucking you because his hair poked your clit just wrong, he vowed to shave and keep his hair short. You told him it wasn’t necessary but he did it anyway.

And of course you asked to watch him shave. It wasn’t your fault you’ve never seen how a man shaves his cock and balls.

“So, like how does that work?” Bucky gives you an incredulous look. “Shaving. It seems difficult. How do you not cut yourself?”

Bucky sighs, he should be used to this by now, his girlfriend being obsessed with his cock, and not just because you always want to fuck him, but because you want to know how it works. Can I hold him while you pee? Can you swing him around? Can I hold him when we cuddle? I want to watch him get hard. Can I keep him in my mouth while you work?

Bucky doesn’t mind the last one, he would be insane to say no to having his cock in your mouth. In the end, he lets you come into the bathroom while he shaves. “Sweets, don’t look at me like that, gonna make me hard.”

“I’m not looking any type of way. I’m just interested.” He runs the razor through his hair, delicately grabbing his soft cock, pulling it away from where he shaves next. “Woah, so you just move him around?”

“Well, how else would you shave the hair there, sweets?” He lets out a chuckle before focusing on his task again.

“So you don’t get hard touching your dick so much?” Bucky laughs, almost nicking himself.

“What do you think I do when I take a shower? You get used to it.”

“You always get hard when I hold him.” He has to turn the razor off, doubling over with laughter.

“That’s different, sweets.” He goes back to shaving, now focusing on his balls, pulling the skin tight.

“That’s fucking cool and kind of hot. You know, you playing with your balls.”

Bucky’s cock twitches at your words. “You’re never watching me shave again.”

On you however, he couldn’t give less of a damn what you do with your pubic hair. If you shave, that’s fine, he gets to feel your silky skin under his fingers. Loverboy would gladly put your lotion on you, making sure you don’t get razor burn. Of course, it’s because he has to make sure his pretty girl is taken care of, not because he wants to touch your pussy, no, he would never. He doesn’t mind the prickly hair as it grows back, one time he had the nerve to say that it was exfoliating his face for the day when eating you out. That got him a whack to the head.

If you wax, he’s going to do the same thing, treating your pussy like she was injured, doting on her hand and foot.

“How is my pretty girl? I know, I can’t believe she would do this to you, to us.”

Sometimes he tilts his head so his ear is next to your bare cunt. “What’s that? She hurt you, ripped out all your pretty curls? Don’t worry, I’ll show her what happens when she treats you like this.”

Full bush, oh he couldn’t care less. The coarse curls don’t slow him down at all. He’ll still devour you like his last meal. So what if he may have to spit out a few hairs after, it’s worth it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When he isn’t about to lose his mind, he’s very intimate, holding you close, looking into your eyes as his cock slides in and out. He loves the intimacy, the vulnerability of letting himself go. It doesn’t have to be soft and slow for him, he could be railing you into next week but his calloused hands running up and down your thighs, soft kisses to your face, praise, all of it, but you could still feel his unconditional love for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Bucky doesn’t jack off too much. He was shocked to find out that you’re just as insatiable as he is, constantly fiending for his dick. He will masturbate when you don’t want to have sex, sleeping, or just not with him. Just thinking about you makes him hard as a rock and he can’t ignore it. He was apprehensive at first when you brought up the idea of mutual masturbation, not understanding why he would jack off when you were right there, ready and willing.

“Sweets, please come here. I need to be in that perfect pussy.” You just shook your head scooting to the end of the bed where you’ve already placed pillows for you to rest on.

“It’ll be hot, promise.” You started first, dragging your vibrator through your slick, using it to rub your clit in small circles. “I’m waiting, Loverboy.”

You knock Bucky out of his trance, eyes shooting back up to look at you before dropping to the fleshlight you found in his bedside drawer. He tries to ignore the aching in his core, but it just gets tighter and tighter as your soft moans fill the room. Bucky would give anything to be the one pleasuring you right now, but that’s not what you want.

Picking up the toy, Bucky groans at the sight before him, fake pussy leaking with lube and some of your slick, having rubbed it against your slick cunt first. He can’t remember the last time he used it, but he’s sure that it used to feel much better than it does now and he’s positive it’s because your pussy ruined him.

“Fuck, sweets, please, need you. Doesn’t feel as good. S’not you. You’re warm, and tight, and fuck, the way you clench around me. Oh shit.” Even though it’s not nearly as good, it still has him moaning, the toy wrapping around his thick cock better than his hand ever could.

He starts to fuck his toy faster, trying to finish at the same time as you, and he gets why you find this so hot. The sight of his girl pleasuring herself, giving him a full view of your body, has his mind reeling. And when he cums and you stick your tongue as deep as it can go into the toy, Bucky knows that he’s going to do it again with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loverboy is kinky and he’s not afraid to admit it. Daddy kink, breath play, light BDSM, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, praise, role play, mutual masturbation, spit kink, spanking, the list goes on. He’s down to try almost anything you want. He’s thinking about trying something you brought up, fucking you like a sex toy, using whatever hole he wants, with explicit consent of course. You want him to fuck you however he wants while watching porn or one of your videos, treating you like an inanimate object.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bucky’s favorite place to fuck you is the bedroom. It gives him the most privacy and he can take as much time as he wants with you. Alongside that, car sex, shower sex, over the desk, against the wall, the movie theater, class, and you won’t ever forget the time he decided to fuck you with all of your friends right next to you.

“Can’t fucking wait anymore. Cock is about to explode.” The whisper sends pulses of arousal to your already soaked core. You want it just as bad as he does, thinking that the movie night at Sam’s would have been much shorter, but of course the loud mouth had to keep pausing the movie to interject, swiftly causing an outburst between him and Steve.

“Slip it in, Loverboy, else I’m going to leave a wet spot on both of our pants.” Bucky buries his head in the crook of your neck, glad that you were in the corner of the room, no lights shining on the two of you.

Bucky meets no resistance at the first slide of his hips, pushing your shorts and underwear down. His hand shoots up to cover your mouth to stop the wanton moan about to leave, both of you being so horny for so long.

He keeps an eye out for anyone looking over, getting more and more bold with each small jerk of his hips. His right hand comes down to rub your clit, left helping you grind against him, juices soaking his sweatpants.

“Sweets, cock feels like it’s about to burst, gonna be so much fucking cum, gonna make a mess.” You whimper when his cockhead hits your sweetspot, ready to fall off the edge with him. “Just a little more, sweets, yeah, give me that, FUCK, keep touching my balls, feel how much cum is in there for you?”

Biting down on your shoulder, Bucky’s cock bursts, filling you up with rope after rope of his spend, your cunt milking every drop out with your own orgasm.

“I can’t believe yall really just fucked on my couch.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Sweets, you. You get him going. You could breathe in his direction and his cock will point the same way. It doesn’t take much at all. At first you thought that it was because he was used to having sex all the time and then you made him wait for so long before sleeping with him. But no. It’s just Bucky and how much he’s obsessed with you.

Over the next few months, Bucky’s appetite for you never wavered and you aren’t mad about it at all. If you want to do a little something special for him, you’ll wear a sexy pair of lingerie but for some reason, that you still can’t wrap your head around, he loves when you wear nightgowns the most.

If you walk past him in a nightgown, you’re going to end up on the next available surface with it pulled up enough for him to see your cunt swallow his thick length.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes - He doesn’t want to share you with anyone else, or have anyone else. You’re more than enough for him

CNC - Bucky wants explicit consent every time. If he even senses for a second that you are uncomfortable or hesitant, he’s checking in and making sure you’re still okay to go. Same goes for any sex act. If you don’t give him a clear answer then everything stops, no questions asked

Face slapping - He loves to slap your ass, cunt, and thighs, but he doesn’t want to hit you in the face. He’s never been a violent man, maybe a little rough during sex, but never striking a woman anywhere near her face. Maybe a slap or two to her tits, but never any higher. You asked him to slap your face before and his cock went almost completely soft instantly, hating the idea of hurting you, even when you were asking for it. You both talked about it and agreed that it wasn’t something that he was comfortable with and you two wouldn’t do it

Cheating role play - Bucky wants to leave his reputation behind, not relive it

DD/LG - He likes to be called daddy, but he likes to keep that in the bedroom only and not treat you like a little girl

Impact play - The only thing that he’ll hit you with is his hands and belt, never anything like a whip or flogger

Anything that you’re not comfortable with - If he wants to try something and you don’t seem completely comfortable with, you’ll talk it through. When trying something new, Bucky will always talk with you about it first, and if you want to try it, he’ll go slow and talk you through what he’s going to do. If you like it then eventually he’ll relax and lose himself in the pleasure with you, but if you want to stop at any point, you don’t have to try it again

Certain nicknames turn him off as well, pretty much everything that has little in the name. He doesn’t want to think of you as a child. Little one is probably his least favorite

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Once he got a taste of your cunt, Bucky was hooked. He could stay between your legs for hours, eating you out while you worked on assignments, watched TV, read a book, or tried to at least, the presence of his tongue and fingers taking away your ability to focus on anything.

As much as he loved to eat you out, he loved blowjobs. The sloppier the better. It was addicting to see your puffy cheeks lined with tears, spit down your chin to your tits. You always let him fuck your face when he wanted to. He would let you take control most of the time, but when he was needy, he fucked your face like a sex toy. The sounds of your gags and gurgles were so fucking sexy.

If he is needy, then he prefers to receive, but any other time, he enjoys both the same.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on his mood, he can go from slow to passionate, or just fast and rough off the bat. He always tries to take his time, drawing out both of your pleasure, but once he slides into your tight cunt, all bets are off and his hips take on a mind of their own, clapping against yours, grinding every time be bottoms out. Sometimes he likes it fast and rough, plowing into you, giving you no time to adjust, taking out his frustrations on you.

You love when he gets like that, protective and possessive, but never in a way that turns you off. He knows that you’re your own person and can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to deal with sleazy men trying to put their nasty paws on you. On those days he’ll fuck you until you both are too spent to get up, covered in your mixed cum, laying in the wet sheets, neither having enough energy to get up and change them.

Those days he gives you the best aftercare. Not that he ever slacks off, but something about him fucking you like an animal and then treating you like precious china after has your heart clenching and love seeping through your pores.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He used to be big on quickies, more of a wham, bam, thank you ma’am kind of guy. But now? He doesn’t like them as much. Of course he still likes them, he would be crazy to deny you sex at all. He likes to take his time with you, drawing out both of your pleasure. He also knows how you get after sex, soft and vulnerable, needing to be taken care of, and he can’t properly do that when you’re both in a time crunch. He does what he can though, making sure you enjoyed it and keeping you close to him, making sure you know how much he loves you and how good you did for him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bucky is a risk taker, through and through. If you’re down to try something, 9 times out of 10 he’s game. He’s fucked you in class before, slowly rubbing his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against your clit. He had to bite your shoulder to stop the moans leaving him. He loves to fuck you in public, not in the open where everyone can see, but hidden enough that there’s a chance someone could walk in.

He would never let anyone see you in a compromising position though. But fucking in a closet, corner of the library, bathroom stall? He’s down.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for multiple rounds, give him a few minutes and he’s ready to go again. Bucky’s young and in his prime, he has no problem going again and again. Some days he cums fast, not able to hold out when you're so wet and warm around him. Most of the time he can last 15-20 minutes if he tries. But he will always make sure you cum first.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bucky has a fleshlight. He didn't have to use it very often, always finding someone to give him his release, only using it when he was in his dorm late at night, too lazy to have real sex. But now he uses it more often, whether because you were away and the thoughts of your perfect body were too much to handle or because you wanted to watch him fuck himself with it while you touched your pussy. He thoroughly enjoys the toy, even though it has nothing on your cunt, it still feels much better than his own hand.

He loves to use toys on you, watching your eyes roll back as he pushes your vibrator harder against your clit, seeing how many times he could make you cum before you had to tap out. He’s never going to forget the first time you placed it under his sac and then rode him, not stopping when he came, continuing to bounce and grind until he had no more cum to offer.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loverboy loves to tease you, making you beg for his cock. He’ll purposefully avoid touching your cunt for as long as possible. Licking your neck, trailing kisses down your chest, biting and sucking your tits, but never touching your nipples. He enjoys seeing you get more and more desperate, hips searching for any type of friction. And when he can stop himself from devouring your cunt, he’ll suck hickies on your inner thigh, littering it with bruises. And just when you think he’s going to lick your cunt, he’ll give the same treatment to your other thigh.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Oh, he’s loud. The first thrust has him groaning, deep and long. He’s never been one to make much noise during sex, dirty talk and small grunts when he was close to finishing, but with you, he can’t help but whine, moan, groan, whimper, all of it, you just feel too good. At first, he tries to keep it down, but with each thrust, he loses himself more and more, not able to hide his pleasure.

“Sweets, so fucking good, fuck.” He hides his face in the crook of your neck, the vibrations of his moans tickling you.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, pussy’s choking me. Feels so fucking good.” His voice gets higher in pitch, almost as if he was close to tears, hips picking up speed.

With each thrust he moans and grunts, cock feeling like it’s going to burst at any time. “Please, sweets, oh god, can’t help it, need you to cum for me, not gonna last, please.” He will beg for you to cum, he needs you to cum first.

When his whines come, you know he’s close to cumming, doing everything he can to hold it, not wanting it to end already, but he can’t help it.

“Fuck, sweets, thank you, thank you, cumming all over my cock. Ready, sweets? Gonna fill you up, want it so bad.” Mouth open, eyes rolling back, Bucky moans and he moans loud as spurts of his cum fill your pussy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Bucky would “accidentially” leak your sex tape. And by that he means that you both were in on it, but definitely acted like you had no clue it was out there. Bucky was fed up with the dirty looks and comments you would get, just because you were dating him. Of course, he loved it when you told them off, it was one of the first things he was attracted to - your fire.

Bucky brought the idea up, he was going to fuck you, film it, and it would mysteriously end up on his social media. You were hesitant at first, but Bucky assured you that there was no pressure to do anything, and he would respect your boundaries.

You thought about it for a few days, eventually agreeing, but you would be wearing a shirt and the camera would only show your face. Bucky insisted that he picks out your shirt, his red henley and propped the camera up so that both of your faces were in view.

It was full of passion, kissing, staring into each other’s eyes, praise, moans, the whole nine. Near the end, you were practically sobbing with pleasure, not even remembering that it was being filmed. “There you go, sweets, look at the camera, want to see your face when you cum.”

With one hand he grabs your chin and faces the camera. “Look at you, so fucking perfect, makes my cock so fucking hard, come on sweet girl, cum for me, know you’re so close.” That’s all it takes for a wail to rip from your throat, squirting on his cock, soaking the bed and covers.

“Love you so much, sweets. So fucking good for me, can’t get enough of you, won’t ever stop loving you.” In your dazed state, you barely heard him calling out your name. Not your nickname, your real name as he filled you with his cum.

The next few days on campus were eventful to say the least.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

For starters, Loverboy is uncut. His foreskin partially covering the tip of his pink cockhead. He’s around 6.5 inches but he’s THICK. The first time you saw his cock you weren’t sure you were going to be able to fit him inside of you. You couldn’t fit your hand around him, fingers not meeting. Thick veins surround his cock, begging to be traced with your tongue.

Bucky always had large balls, but he didn’t realize how big they were until you commented on them, shocked at their size. You’ve never seen a prettier sack in your entire life, heavy and full, yet the skin was tight, leaving it smooth. They hung down, the weight of them too much to keep them close to his body, making his cock look much smaller when soft.

You’re obsessed with the way they swing when he fucks into you, feeling them slap against your skin, making vulgar sounds every time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Bucky can go as much as you want. He is perpetually hard for you. If you wanted to, he would go all day every day. That man is whipped and can’t get enough of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can fall asleep after pretty quickly, but he always makes sure that you are taken care of first. He usually feels a huge burst of energy after, able to continue with his day with no problem. If you pull multiple orgasms out of him, then he gets tired, ready to cuddle you in his arms and sleep. It takes a lot to make his cock tired; however, he’s always ready to give you more.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader

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livelaughlovesubs · 12 days

Note

Food for thought for sub Boothill: wireplay!

Mechanic reader who helps with repairs all up inside him and maybe an update has him tingle each time they touch his wires, or graze his ports, or the potential opportunities 🤤

I only did minor researches about cyborgs to have a basic understanding, so most of the things I write down will be purely fiction. Also sorry that it turned out as angst instead of NSFW :(

Feel free to ask for a second part to make up for it

Warning: (a little) angst, we are screwing around

Boothill had hinted at the fact that he can’t feel with his mechanical body parts for a while now. For him, who has been like this for so long, one would think he had gotten used to it. Yet that wasn’t the case. Were you to ask him if it bothered him, he’d answer no without an ounce of hesitation. This used to be the truth, until he fell for you. In other words, if you were to ask him the same question now, the response would be much more heartbreaking.

To get a simple comparison, it was as if your body didn’t belong to you. Despite him technically being able to do anything, it felt as if he couldn’t at the same time. Serving as an echo and reminder of his hopelessness prior to gaining this body. It was only a small price to pay considering the sin he committed by being the sole survivor, his path of revenge was fuelled with nothing but pure rage. A second life, filled with endless possibilities, at the loss of his own humanity, not the worst of his sacrifices.

The most regrettable change he had to undergo was the loss of sensation. Everyday, a numbness that wouldn’t vanish engulfed him from the bottom to his shoulders, pretty much mirroring his inner emotions. How losing the sense of touch could throw one into a deep abyss of endless emptiness was unimaginable. To think this would have such a huge consequence on his psyche was unpredictable, he believed it wouldn’t come this far, since he still could feel from his shoulders up to his head. He was horribly wrong.

Whenever you embraced him, some kind of guilt mixed with adoration would eat away at him. Boothill craved your touch, more than that he wanted to feel your warmth when he hugs you, not just the cold iron. At the same time he wished you’d find someone else. Staying by his side would only bring problems, considering the high bounty on his head. You deserved it, you deserved so much better than this icy, robotic body of his. Sometimes his true thoughts would slip out and he’d accidentally tell you how it’s a pity he can’t feel anything. Soon after he’d chuckle and tell you not to worry about it, as well as how he’s grateful for his current life, since he’ll be able to carry out revenge this way.

You have long figured out his concerns, and no matter how you showered his body with love and affection, he only seemed to condemn himself more. This wasn’t something you could just accept like that, seeing your lover being so down caused you nothing but grief. Especially with the thought in mind that you couldn’t help him- no. That’s not true. You could if you wanted to, it’s never too late to learn new things. Besides you had a basic understanding of mechanics and things related to it, since it is a part of your work. Even if you had never done something this high-tech, it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Giving it a shot wouldn’t hurt no one, right?

After coming to such resolves, it got shaken again by your endless worries. You had no idea where to start, nor how a cyborg works. Besides the IPC is way more knowledgeable about this than you, so what’s the chance of success? How were you going to achieve that goal anyway? Uncountable amounts of questions flooded your mind, chasing away any traces of confidence you previously had. That’s when you reminded yourself as to why you wanted to do all of this in the first place. It’s all because of him, he wanted to feel, and who were you to refuse his request? Thus began your secret operation, to program a small device that works as a sensory aid. This took you so long that boothill also noticed you hiding something from him, yet he never asked, respecting your wish to keep it a secret.

One day, after you were sure that it was done and hundred precent safe, you mustered enough courage to present the idea to him. Your heart was in your hand while you explained it to him, on what exactly you would have to do as well as what this little piece of metal can do. With trembling hands, you held the small chip. It was only as big as a pingpong ball, yet it took you months to refine it to perfection. Suddenly breathing was like the most difficult task in the world, as well as speaking. Your breath was short and ragged as you stumbled over your words, trying your best to explain the situation. It was hard to believe you were suggesting the idea of doing modifications on your dear boyfriend.

Boothill was initially grinning, wondering what kind of present you got him. When he saw your nervous stutters and the gift in your hand, his expression loosened up a little, thus he was smiling meekly now. Without beating around the bush, he clasped his hand over yours, then said, “m’ mighty fine, ya’ do what ya’ want, no need to force it, aight?” His hand was cold like always, in contrary to you he didn’t quiver, simply because he couldn’t. Even so you knew this was very shocking to him, you noticed by the indescribable look on his face. There was his usual cheerful air, brave smirk and reassuring yet chaotic vibe. Though a hint of bitterness was hidden behind these layers.

Why? That’s what he wondered about. You spend all your free time on this, just for him, because he accidentally pitied it once or twice? Even though he appreciated the thoughts and efforts, he still felt bad. Yet there was something else too, scepticism. If this were to work, would things get better? Doubt, suspicion and most prominently fear engulfed him. What if it just doesn’t work? You must be so disappointed if that were the case. Or something might go wrong and he never gets the chance to hold you again, that would be way worse than his current fate. Frankly enough, he is already grateful to have a place to call home again, which is why he doesn’t want to be too greedy.

You nodded, then said, “I want to try, okay?” He saw your determination, so he had to reason to refuse you, giving you a smile as he replied, “don’t mess me up too much, darling.” After getting his consent, you made him lie down on the working bench. If he didn’t knew any better, it almost felt like you were a doctor. You started with removing his cover, using a cordless screwdriver to get rid of the metal plates on his torso. This way you can access his central parts and inner systems. Operating on a human being was stressing, especially because it was someone dear to you too. It took you a while until you properly understood his body and how everything worked, many wires were placed everywhere, so many that it confused you. There were also artificial bones to help stabilise and protect the wires as well as countless devices, similar to the task of real bones. Some kind of blue liquid was being pumped to his heart, keeping it alive. You found many chips for various purposes, yours in contrary looked like a joke. This was overwhelming at first, but after studying him for a bit, you came to understand most of it.

Behind his pelvis was his oil tank, with the energy conversion device being right next to it. It was connected to every single part of his body, since it was the machine delivering energy through every wire. There were also many other human-like parts; an artificial lung, an oxygen cylinder to store the air needed to keep the brain alive, an artificial stomach which was more like a storage for bullets. The department that you needed the most was behind his chest, where his motor for motion skills are. It was located alongside a few other big systems. If you could somehow connect the control system with your little chip there, then he might be able to turn on or off the sensor at free will. No doubt it was a bold gamble, but you were willing to try.

After hours of endless finger-work, to the point sweat was dripping down your chin, you finally managed to attach the device to the right place. A total of 52 tiny wires were needed to properly connect everything, the last thing you had to do was to reattach his covers. Before moving on to that part, you tapped your self made chip gently, wondering if he would be able to feel anything already. During the entire time you were working and basically experimenting on him, Boothill stayed quiet, not wanting to disrupt you. Though this time, he let out an irritated gasp, “huh.” It was strange, something wasn’t quite right. That means you did manage to make modifications to his body, the question is if it’s a good thing. “Boothill, are you alright?” You asked him immediately, worried that you made things worse. “Shucks cutie, m’fine, I’m not that frail.” Once again he retorted to his usual fun demeanour.

It wasn’t a lie, he was fine, but that doesn’t mean nothing happened. Though he didn’t know how to describe it neither. Somehow it felt like electricity was send to his brain, stimulating his nerves. The sensation he just experienced… it was weird yet familiar. Could it be whatever you did worked? Was that bizarre sensation the sense of touch? It’s been so long, he doesn’t know nor remember anymore. “I’m done, can you see if you can turn it on?” You said hesitantly, almost sounding as unsure as him. Boothill looked through his system, and there has indeed been a new feature unlocked. He downloaded it swiftly, a little on edge as he waited. 98%…99%… and done. “How do you feel?” The anticipation in your voice was as clear as day. This was the most intense part of your operation after all, it was if it bore fruition.

“I really don’t feel a difference.” He told you honestly, his brows furrowed. It seems he also kind of hoped for it to work, guess his expectations were too high. Your heart sank, all this work for nothing. In an instant, you grabbed his hand and brought it to your chest. With a disappointed and guilty tone, you spoke, “I’m sorry, I made you go through all that for nothing.” Then you held his iron hand tightly, as if to apologise to him. As soon as your skin made contact with him, his hand twitched and he pulled it back. A dumbfounded look was on your face along with the grief. When you stared at him, totally confused, you noticed his face heat up. “Boothill…?”

“Your hand’s warm.” He stated, lips slightly parted which revealed his sharp teeth. “What?” You didn’t quite catch the meaning behind his words, hence the question. Boothill sit up very abruptly and pointed a finger to his body, “touch m’ here.” Despite you not understanding the situation, you obliged anyway, tapping his torso with your index finger. “It worked!” The cyborg stated, blinking a few times in awe. “My forking goodness, this shirt works.” “You mean…?” Your own eyes widened, staring at him in disbelief. It worked? Your little amateur operation there? “It worked.” You had to repeat those words that seemed so unfamiliar in your mouth.

The realisation hit you, your hard work payed off and it wasn’t unnecessary. In an instand you pulled that man into a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso, holding him tightly. “Hey now, don’t squeeze me so suddenly mother-fudger, hahaha.” Boothill laughed, returning your embrace immediately. This feeling was what he subconsciously missed. For the first time in years, he could feel the warmth of another. He can feel it when something is touching him, when you are caressing him so gently.

Even though first and foremost he looks unbothered, only happy about this new function, he was deeply shaken by it. His bottom lip trembled due to the overwhelming emotions swirling around inside him. If he could cry, he would. Partly because he’s so grateful for your deeds, also because feeling so many stimulations when he literally couldn’t for years is a bit overwhelming. It wasn’t bad though, your hug felt so nice. To think the first thing he gets to feel after being senseless all these years is not anything fighting related, but the soft feeling of your tender embrace. How lucky he was. If he dared to be a little more selfish, then he’d wish this moment could last forever.

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