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angelwithdemonictendencies · 1 year

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and looking back at the scrapbooks i see the softness in your gaze; tell me how terrified you are of your longing, of me.

jd6 x reader: sometimes the nice guy doesn’t finish last.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f, f on m), hair pulling, road head (safety hazard. don’t do this), not especially rough (consider my other work and what little significance this has), actually feelings (i would never l-bomb you guys. we’re not there. we will never be there), idk all my usual stuff. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: alright, thanks for waiting! just in time for stagecoach to be over! i love a good cowboy (i.e. not tz11), so jamie-lovers, this is for you. you’re right, petal is a dumb name, but i’m working with what i’ve got. i don’t know much about jd6, but i’m contemplating taking tz11 off of my blog entirely because of that absolutely traumatizing toddler temper tantrum he exhibited in the last game of the season, so if you like this, and jd6, let me know, as a spot is opening up on the masterlist (someone tell trev, he’ll be devastated, i’m sure). usually i don’t write m on f oral, because i like to write dialogue (can you tell?), but i felt an exception was necessary. you guys are the best, most generous and gentle people. thank you for continuing to be that way. what an insane playoff season we’ve had so far - hope you’re all faring well (or at least as well as you can be, bruins fans). even though they aren’t playing, go canucks. sending so, so, so much love to you and your snakes. i think of you often and fondly. see you soon, thank you for granting me no expectations.

to be honest, there wasn’t really much different about tonight. the same country music festival you went to every year. the same beer. the same songs and the same friends and the same light and promise in the air.

nothing was different, and yet everything was different, because this year you were here, and your ex-boyfriend wasn’t here with you. you had been together for the last three years. how much love and commitment could fit into three years? more than you thought possible.

but love can make a person complicit in their own demise, you had found. for too long, it had been all too easy to hide his controlling behavior under the guise of three years. but a month ago, you had finally walked away, for good this time.

so here you were, in that same touristy southern bar you and your friends always ended the night at, in your cowboy boots, tipsy on laughter more than alcohol, more free than you had been in a long time. dancing, feeling like nothing had ever been more right.

“another, petal?” a soft, fond voice asked from your right.

you turned, felt your face break into a smile, actually let out a dreamy sigh at the sight of his face, nodding towards your empty cup.

“jamie!” you gushed, looping your arms around his waist and grinning up at him. “missed you!”

he let out a laugh at your reaction, brought his own arms around you. you felt his plastic cup rest on the curve of your lower back as he peered down at you, flushed. “missed me? been with you all weekend, cowgirl.” his gaze turned soft. “been with you always.”

he was right. ever since you had first met, maybe two years ago, you and jamie had been inseparable. he was one of your best friends, and you were one of his.

he must have seen something in your eyes, because he lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face. “you okay?”

and you knew what he was asking. you knew he knew you inside-out, and that there very notably was someone who was not here, because for as long as he had known you, that person had been here. as long as he had known you, that person had been at your side.

but, honestly, that person hadn’t been on your mind much at all, except to note how much happier you were. how much lighter you felt, how you danced without worry, without keeping an eye on who he was talking to, who he would disappear to see. how you had reconnected with friends that he had insisted you pushed away, how parts of you were awakening from a slumber you hadn’t realized they had slipped into.

like, for example, the stirring in your stomach when your eyes met jamie’s. had that always been there? had you just subconsciously willed it into nonexistence? had his eyes always been so bright, so soft?

so you weren’t lying when you said, leaning further into the plane of his chest, “i’m perfect.”

his eyes swam with something warm as a laugh rumbled under your palms. “you have no idea, petal,” he said.

you tilted your head, confused. the singing in your stomach grew louder. had he always been so tall, so broad? had his arms around you always felt like this? like they belonged there?

before you could ask what he meant, though, he nodded down again. “want a refill?”

you shook your head, let a sly smile play on your lips. “i want to dance.”

his embrace loosened, if only slightly. “i won’t stop you.”

you let out a small laugh, shook your head again. “i want to dance with you, jamie.”

something different flashed across his eyes, something you could feel deep within yourself. something was about to be different, forever, and you wished so genuinely that he would let it be so. let it be as you deeply felt it should be. as it should have been, all this time.

your stomach jumped with pleasant anticipation as he set his cup down on the bar, then took yours out of your hands and did the same. were his hands shaking, only just?

he nodded towards the dance floor. “lead the way, petal.”

you smiled, big and bright, then took his cowboy hat off of his head and placed it atop yours before turning and walking towards the floor. you thought you heard him mumble fuck behind you as you walked, which only made you smile wider.

jamie rarely swore. in fact, in your years of listening to him, you had rarely heard anything out of his mouth that wasn’t completely sweet. but tonight was different. you had already established that.

a song with a swing in its beat was playing, a lazy, twangy drawl singing along. the kind of song that demanded to be shared, to be enjoyed. the kind of song for which the best harmony was laughter.

you turned and reached out your hands to him, swayed side to side and watched him as he took your hands. warm, so warm, rough, and big enough to fit your whole hand in his. had his hands always sparked a flame in your chest, one you were sure he could see in your eyes?

you pulled his arms back and forth, easing him into a rhythm, as he wasn’t a natural dancer. you swayed and moved your hips, let the music move you and him by translation.

his eyes caught on the top of your head and stayed there for a beat. “do you want it back?” you asked.

his gaze flooded with alarm. “what?” he shook his head. “no, petal, looks so much better on you.”

“good.” you grinned, let go for a moment to run a hand through his hair, messing it up in the way you liked. “i love your hair. want to see it.”

“yeah?” he asked, practically melting into your touch, his voice taking on the slightest hint of a rasp before you watched him shake any haze out of his eyes and voice.

pasting a friendly smile back on his face, he quickly picked you up at the waist and planted you back down, your boots resting on the tops of his. you peered up at him, found his smile a comfort. “let’s see what you’ve got, cowgirl,” he teased before leading you around the floor on top of his boots in a goofy, awkward, completely imperfect dance.

a goofy, awkward, completely imperfect dance made utterly perfect by laughter and smiles and him. all him. the music could have died away, and you swore you would have never known.

eventually you hopped down off of his boots, swung his arms in time with your hips to a different song. a song that had you yearning to bring that hazy, hot fog back into his eyes. one that had you yearning for him, closer.

and of course you noticed how his eyes never left you for even a second. how a heat seemed to build between you, an understanding. how long had he looked at you like that? how blind could you have been to miss it?

you bit your lip to hide a smile when he brought your arm up to give you a twirl, surprised you both when you stopped, leaned your back into his chest, brought his arms down to rest on your front.

this was different. this was dangerous. you could feel every breath he took, and you were sure he could hear your heart beat. but you pushed it further, bit your lips, pressed back deeper until some mixture of a whimper and a groan escaped him.

but you didn’t pull away, only relaxed back into him more completely, feigned obliviousness. “you okay?” you asked, looked up at him with concern in your eyes.

he saw right through you, as he always did. he was not impressed, maybe even worried. “don’t do this to me, petal,” he said, that perfect rasp curling from his mouth like rosy smoke. “don’t know if i can take it.”

but it took no effort at all to will innocence into your eyes as you tilted your neck back to look up at him, to melt him entirely. “please?” you asked, your voice like sugar.

the haze in his eyes was too thick to burn off, now. his smile was sly as he shook his head in disbelief. “mean, mean girl,” he said as he tightened his embrace around you. you felt his deep breath run through you. “i’ve been so good, petal. gonna ruin my track record.”

you furrowed your brow, spun yourself to face him, let his arms hug you against his front. “track record?”

he nodded, flushed pink across his nose. before you could think about it, you traced the tint with the tips of your fingers, felt his breath on you palm. he didn’t move under your touch. “going on two years now.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck. “two years of what, jamie?”

his gaze flickered around the room, almost embarrassed. “don’t make me say it, petal. you know.”

and you did, so you didn’t push him to clarify. you did know, now, weren’t sure how you could have missed it for so long. you had been so caught up in something wrong, someone wrong, that you hadn’t even considered the person who was so desperately right all along. had his gaze always been so soft, so drenched in sweetness, or had it always been so when you were looking away? how could you have been looking away?

you weren’t, now. you pressed yourself as close as you could into him, let the truth flood into your eyes. “you’ve been so good,” you whispered, watched him give a small nod in agreement.

your eyes traced the movement as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “but i’m gonna ruin your track record,” you said, not feeling the slightest bit sorry. you ran your nails along the back curve of his neck, felt a shiver start under your fingers. “and you’re gonna let me.”

he kept one arm around your back, lifted the other hand to lift his hat off of your head and lowered it again to rest on the small of your back. “and i’m gonna let you,” he conceded, but there was no regret, no sadness, no reluctance in his voice, only slow sweetness, complete consent in being an accomplice to what he believed might be his own destruction.

and so you pulled him down so your lips met his in a kiss that felt like piety after a lifetime of sin, like the smell of a perfume you used in high school, like a pinkie-promise, like everything you had been missing. a kiss that felt like him, and how lovely was that? to know what that felt like. what he felt like, like this.

and when you both pulled away, only just, enough to catch your breath, you found that heat in his eyes that you knew was reflected in yours. “more,” you murmured.

“anything you want, petal,” was his immediate reply, and you could have crumbled at how genuinely he meant it.

“now,” you pleaded, biting your lip, “need you.”

he groaned, drew circles on your lower back with his fingers. “anything but that.”

you pouted, to which he shook his head. “fuck, i won’t budge on this one. i’m not fucking you in a bar bathroom, petal. not when i’ve wanted you for as long as i have.”

it still felt sort of surreal to truly understand that. you didn’t let your gaze falter. “please, please, can we go home, then? it’s only five minutes to the hotel.” you knew he wouldn’t dare refuse you. “i need you, so bad, jamie.”

he was already leading you out of the bar, pulling his keys from his back pocket, opening your car door and helping you in before settling into the driver’s seat.

but when he put his arm behind your headrest to back the car out of the parking lot, you knew the five minutes to the hotel was five minutes too long. so, when he pulled out into the road, you turned to him, rested one hand on his thigh, the other right above the zipper of his jeans, felt your smile glow at his immediate whimper.

“fuck, petal, don’t,” he pleaded, tilting his hips up to meet your touch, breathing becoming ragged. “i’ll crash the goddamn car.”

you didn’t relent, palming him and relishing in his little sounds. “please let me suck you off, jamie? i’ll make you feel so good, promise.”

he groaned, his grip tensing on the steering wheel. you watched the discipline fade from his eyes, bit your lip as his voice took on the despair of a beggar. “please, petal,” he finally bit out. “please make me feel good.”

you smiled to yourself as you took him out of his jeans, spit into your hand, pumped him up and down, felt him hard and hot under your palm.

“oh, fuck,” he murmured, working to keep his eyes on the road. “fuck, petal, love your hands on me.”

you hummed. “love your dirty mouth, jamie,” you praised. “let me hear you, yeah?” before he could answer, you took him in your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks.

you felt one of his hands tangle into your hair, making you moan around him, forcing a matching moan from him as you began to bob your head up and down.

every breath of his sounded like a monumental effort as he tried his hardest to keep his eyes up, not closed and not on you. more than anything, he just wanted to look at you. his words came out like a prayer. “can’t do it,” he croaked. “feels too good, petal, fuck.”

you glowed under his praise, pressed yourself down further, let him hit the back of your throat as the car came to a stop. he pulled you up off of him, mumbled a thank fuck before capturing your lips again in a feverish kiss.

“finally,” you murmured against his lips, zipping him back up before rushing to get out of the car and into the hotel. he took your hand as he led you down the hall to his room, everything around you both an irrelevant blur.

when he finally shut the door behind him and pulled you to his chest to kiss you again, there was only him, and you, and nothing else. you clutched at his shirt with your fists, felt just how effective your mid-drive activity had been against your front as you both kicked off your boots and tugged at each others’ clothes.

“please let me taste you, petal,” he begged into your mouth, “been dreaming about it, about you.” you merely nodded and whimpered your consent, pulling off your jeans. how could you deny him this?

when the back of your legs hit the bed frame, you let yourself fall back onto it, pulled him down with you by his shirt. now that you had felt his lips on yours, you were reluctant to pull away even a bit.

but he pulled away first, shifted down to kneel in front of you, pushed your thighs apart and looked up at your through his long lashes. “you’re sure, petal?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. you nodded, but he persisted. “i can’t be a rebound for you. don’t think i’d survive it.” glossy vulnerability played across his gaze. “tell me you’ll keep me.”

you spoke without wavering, tangled a hand in his hair and forced his eyes to meet yours entirely. “i promise i’ll keep you, jamie. as long as you’ll let me.”

he shone under your words like a teacher’s pet given a golden star. “then let me take care of you, petal,” he whispered. “like you deserve.”

his grip on your thighs tightened as he lowered his head to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe through your folds, forcing a choked moan from your throat as you clutched harder at the soft waves of his hair, making his own grunt vibrate through you.

your moans spurred him on as he teased your clit with his tongue, at the same time bringing a finger up to slowly push in and out of you. you hummed in pleasure, your thighs tensing. “look so pretty on your knees for me, jamie,” you breathed out. “fuck, so good to me, hm?”

you saw the muscles in his back and shoulders clench as he whimpered, only stimulating your clit more as he added a finger and increased his pace. you bit out a breath, feeling yourself quickly getting close as you tugged at his hair in warning.

“shit, j, gonna make me cum,” you whined. “fuck, right there.”

he didn’t slow down, only increasing his speed in and out while sucking on your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge as fuzz crept into your vision like an exploding star, your thighs shaking underneath his strong grip.

slowly, you came down from your high, your heart swelling as you met his patient eyes, looking at you with nothing short of wonder.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, suddenly subconscious.

he shook his head with a slight laugh as he shifted up from his knees. “can’t believe that this isn’t a dream,” he admitted, now only a breath apart, “fuck, can’t believe how lucky i am.”

you grinned, captured his swollen lips in another kiss that you hoped told him that you felt the same. he pushed his hips against you, and you smiled into his mouth at the stiff length against you. “need you inside me, jamie,” you whispered.

“petal wants even more?” he said. you nodded, unzipped him again. “then that’s what petal will get,” he conceded, tugging you towards him by the outside of your thighs, laying you flat on your back, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds.

you pouted, wrapped your hand around his forearm. “please, need you now, j. don’t tease me.”

he immediately pushed into you, slowly and fully, the sound that escaped him a mix between a groan and a whine. you squinted at the stretch, the fullness, this feeling of him that made the two of you one.

“you feel like a dream, petal,” he grunted, keeping still for a second longer as if to remember this moment forever. “like a fucking dream.”

“please move, j,” you pleaded, tracing your nails along the underside of his forearm. “so big, please, fuck me.”

“like you’re made for me,” he bit out like a revelation, slowly beginning a pace in and out of you. “fuck, so wet for me. feels so perfect.”

you whimpered as the stretch expanded, as the feeling of him overwhelmed all of your senses.

“open your eyes, petal,” he begged, running his thumb back and forth across your clit, making you cry out from overstimulation. “look at me, yeah? want to see you.”

and you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to, not like this, not when he was here, when he was everything, everywhere.

he moaned when your eyes caught on his, filled with longing, finally recognized, but never satiated. he fucked into you harder, but not faster, wanting you to feel him as deep as possible, so deep that you’d think of him tomorrow.

as if you’d go a day without thinking of him.

he continued to tease your clit, making your thighs spasm in short spurts as you clenched impossibly hard around him, impossibly warm, entirely you.

“oh fuck, petal, you gonna cum again for me?” he asked, bringing his other hand to place pleasant pressure on your lower stomach. you whined in response, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

“please cum with me,” he said, “want to feel you cum on my cock. fuck, wanted to feel you for so long, petal. cum for me, hm?”

and at his words, you did as told, clenching tight and gushing around him, triggering his own orgasm. he whimpered as he collapsed on top of you, both of your bodies shiny with effort and pleasure.

you let your breaths gather in his collarbone as his landed in your hair, messy and beautiful, as he lifted off of you and pulled you into his side, where you belonged. you let your breathing do the talking as you felt yourself sparkle with satisfaction, taking in how beautiful he looked.

“you’re so beautiful,” you finally murmured into his chest.

he shook in a low laugh. “thank you, petal.”

“i’m serious,” you said. “no one tells you enough.”

he pulled back slightly, searched your eyes, pushed a lock of hair from your damp face. “i don’t need anyone else to tell me,” he said. “only you.”

you pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss before sobering again. “what does this mean?”

he continued to play with your hair, twisting it around his fingers as you analyzed his rosy face. he let out a breath. “you know i want as much of you as you’ll let me have.”

“all of it. everything,” you said without hesitation, but he shook his head.

“no,” he said, “not everything.” at your look of confusion, the corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled you impossibly close. “need you to save some just for you, petal. you need some of you for yourself.”

no one had ever said that to you before. no one had ever treated you so gently.

and you didn’t have any words, and he didn’t need any words, so you just took his hand in yours, brought it to your lips, and kissed the top of it.

a secret message that both of you understood, perfectly.

fin.

#nhl #nhl smut #hockey #hockey smut #smut #anaheim ducks #jd6 #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale smut #jamie drysdale imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine

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voidbeomgyu · 9 months

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ALONE (Teaser)

In which you meet your bias in the worst circumstances.

PAIRING Idol Jake Sim x Fan Fem Reader

GENRE Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Burn, Romance/Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive (Maybe smut, not sure yet.), some fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MDNI, Descriptions of violence, death, blood, etc., All members except Jake died so keep that in mind (I'm sorry), Cursing, Crimes, Mental health talk and experiences, Death, Sickness (Throwing up), Making out, Smut(?), It's an apocalypse!au idk how else to warn about that LOL

SUMMARY The group Enhypen get on a plane to the US and when landing are met with the worst. Jake makes it out alive... but alone. Since the dead are attracted to areas where the population is saturated, your best bet is to stay low in the areas usually considered dangerous (alleyways, abandoned buildings, etc). He made his way into the country and found a nice cabin alongside a lake. His further inspection led him to believe it was abandoned for whatever reason, maybe it was a vacation home? Little did he know his inference was correct, and soon he was met face to face with a member of the family who owned it. How would she react to seeing her favorite artist rummaging through the cupboards of her new--hopefully permanent--home? And how would he be able to explain to a loyal fan of his that he was the only member left?

TEASER WORD COUNT 1,625

RELEASE DATE To be determined.

TAGLIST Comment on this post or send an ask to be added. (Have your age on your profile or you will not be tagged)

Endless walking while trying to find a suitable place to stay was slowly driving Jake insane. The exhaustion from travelling, fear of death, and anguish from the scene at the airport was weighing down on him heavier and heavier every second. Having watched his best friends, his brothers, his family all being taken away from him without being able to do anything but listen to the oldest’s words, “Run”.

Jake had not yet cried, there was no time for it. It’s been almost thirty six hours since then, he’d stolen a bike around a mile away from the airport. It’s helped him a lot on his journey to safety. He never stole, he wasn’t like that, not that type of person. But in the moment he didn’t have the time nor energy to feel guilty about it.

Jake didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted quiet. Not knowing wether or not it’ll be safer in the city or the country side, he chose the latter. Cities are crowded with people, meaning they must be crowded with the dead by now, right? No matter; either way he knew he’d feel much better being in the middle of nowhere, or at least in the middle of what looked like nowhere. All alone in an abandoned farm house, maybe a lake house, any house on the country side would do. He was being too optimistic, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Finding a safe home to live in alone with no one around for miles sounded comforting.

The Jake from two days ago would’ve shivered at the thought of being completely alone. Though no extrovert, he needed people. He needed that connection, that interaction. His reasons to smile and laugh were mostly based around the people around him or the entertainment he consumed. Entertainment was out of the question now, and it seemed like people were too. Most dead, and others probably too violent to give Jake a chance due to the circumstances.

All he held on him was his and Sunghoon’s carry-on bag from the flight. Note to self, don’t try to save your friend by holding onto their bag. Thoughts like this crossed his mind every few minutes, tragedies sentenced as jokes but he wasn’t laughing. What’s wrong with me? How could I think something like that? Maybe it was the dehydration, starvation, overall fatigue? He hadn’t eaten anything since the flight and was savoring the small amount of water he had on him. Either way, thinking of his beloved friends didn’t do much to help his mood. Trying to think of the good times? Those good times will never happen again, they’re gone forever and I’ll never get them back.

More days passed like this. With a stop at a gas station probably being the reason he’s even alive right now. It was abandoned, for the most part. It was the early morning, and he was literally starving now. The cashier was still there, but his neck was chained so tightly to the wall that it was on the edge of ripping his head clean off. Oh, he was a living corpse too. Jake could tell that much by just looking at him, muffled grunts and groans coming from the pale body every minute. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care much of Jake’s criminal activities there. Stuffing whatever foods and drinks he could into the bags he had on him. They were even heavier now, but he couldn’t feel anything. He was numb to all feeling, mentally and physically.

At day four he had started keeping track of how many days passed with a calendar he found on the wall of the gas station that morning. He didn’t stay there though, he didn’t have it in him to kill the cashier, and he knew that if he somehow got loose while he was sleeping it would all be over. The past few days he hadn’t slept or rested much at all actually. Napping for at most an hour at a time, waking up to the slightest noises and scurries of nearby wildlife. He knows he’s incredibly lucky to not have encountered any of the dead, besides the one at the gas station, but it’s a little stressful to not have seen any either. Where could they all be? He had made it out of the city, the once bustling streets on day two, he knew many people weren’t out here to begin with. But knowing there are creatures that could kill him in seconds lurking while having no idea where they are was terrifying.

It’s been six days. His legs started feeling numb just hours after finding his bike due to the frantic pedaling, now he felt like his legs were asleep all the time. The feeling of pins and needles covered his lower body as they worked on auto pilot to keep him going. His back felt horrible, slouched from his broken spirit. Endless cramping and soreness of his hands and fingers from gripping the bikes handles for hours at a time. His knuckles were white, and now so was his once tanned and alive skin.

His lack of proper meals, sleep, and rest was now obvious. Jake hasn’t seen himself since that day in the airport, but from looking at his now thinner, paler, vein visible arms, he could take a guess at what his face looked like. Hell, he could feel the bags under his eyes whenever he blinked now.

It’s been quiet and empty for a few miles. Nothing but grass, and a dirt trail he’s been following in sight. How long is this damn trail? he thought. Jake started following the trail at the sunset of day five; he remembers because of his calendar. It was coming to the end of day six, the sun starting to set in the distance behind him. He found a flashlight at the gas station and used it to find himself a place to “rest” for the nights he faced, it neared the time to find a spot to sleep.

Trees were all around him now, the area looked more alive here, not dried out and dead like the miles before. He must be getting close to some sort of building, forest trails usually have a building as a starting point, right? Unless this trail wasn’t made for hikers, in that case he was hoping in vain.

It was almost completely dark now. Jake had usually found somewhere to stay by this time, but something was telling him to keep going. Using the flashlight to illuminate the shadowed forest, he heard his friends voices cheering him on over and over again.

“Keep going Jake!”

“Just a little longer!”

“You’ll be okay!”

Tears were unconsciously streaming down his face now, though he still didn’t feel anything. His body just gave up on the effort of keeping them in.

Jake pedaled faster. He couldn’t hear anything but his heavy panting, it felt like someone had covered his ears with their hands and muted the sound of everything around him. He saw something in the distance, the roof of a building; he padaled faster. A house, the roof made of wood, looked like a cabin; he padaled faster. He could hear the muffled sound of streaming water; he pedaled faster.

Face to face with a cabin, going so fast he couldn’t stop himself from crashing into the wet grass below him. Still struck with adrenaline, he pulled himself up quickly and dragged his bike to the front door. His broken and unused voice sounded through his pants as he tried frantically to open the damned door.

The door handle had a key hole but was locked with a rusty padlock. He could turn the handle and wriggle the door, that padlock was what he needed to remove. He pulled a hammer out of his bag; he grabbed it from the gas station floor, it was covered in dried blood. Obviously used by someone prior to leaving it there. Jake slammed the hammer into the padlock, over and over again. The loud bangs from striking the lock were null to Jake’s ears, his desperation coating over all his sense.

Smash. The padlocks body is broken away from its handle and the door is free from it’s hold on the wooden frame.

Jake shoves his way inside, throwing the bike onto the hard floor of the entry way before turning to lock the door. It was locked from the outside but had a perfectly working lock on the inside, though he didn’t care to question it. He made it, he was safe, he felt like he could faint.

He had no time to think, let alone find a good source of light before he threw up. Keeling on the once clean floor, liquid from his stomach poured out from him. His throat burned and ached at the feeling, like his throat was made of sandpaper. Falling back he sat on the floor, staring at the door and the mess he made on the ground. He laid back and let his eyes rest for the first time in nineteen hours. Jake fell asleep there on the hard floor, knee propped up on the backside of a couch.

If he was thinking clearly, he would’ve checked the entire cabin, then scavenged for any foods that may be there. But he was broken, body and mind. Luck had been on his side since the beginning though. The home was completely vacant before he entered, and when he wakes up he’ll have found himself a place to live in safely. Away from the corpses living in the surrounding cities, and away from any still living people, all alone.

(A/N: Hello friends! I'm finally writing LOL I've had this wip since December and I'm finally going to finish it. This post is just to see if people would even be interested lol. The total fic word count I don't know yet because I haven't finished it, but I am close! I won't give y'all any hints but I will apologize in advance for the angst I'm about to put y'all thru<3 sorry love you guys muah. Don't know exactly when I will publish the full fic, maybe right when I finish it, maybe a month after I finish it IDK I haven't written seriously in months so I'm not too confident anymore but I am excited. Hope y'all are as excited as I am :D )

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last-herondale · 22 days

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Almost Pt. 2

Bucky POV (W/ FemReader)

Angst, heartbreak, sadness

Tw: some mild curse words

AN: Hellooooo. I had an idea for a part two! Two fics in one week? Who do I think I am? 😳 anyway here is Bucky’s point of view on what happened after part one! Will link below! Maybe this will be a new series? Idk feeling ambitious 🤣

Part 1

Part 3

Enjoy 🤘🏼

It had been six weeks since Steve’s party. Six agonizing weeks of silence. Forty-two days of not hearing your voice. One thousand and eight hours of not seeing you smile at my stupid jokes. Sixty thousand, four hundred, and eighty minutes of not seeing the light dance in your eyes whenever you saw me enter the room. Three million, six hundred thousand twenty eight, and eight hundred seconds since I saw you walk away from me during that party after confessing your love for me.

You said you needed time. I respected that. I understood that.

After you bared your soul to me, I told you what I thought you needed to hear. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. It was difficult to stand there and see the light die from your eyes as I said these things. It was painful to see you cry, knowing that I had been the one to cause you that pain. But it was devastating for me to realize that despite how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, that the words I said were still true. Agonizingly so.

I expected that this type of honesty would destroy our friendship. Even though I still held out hope in my selfish mindset that we could continue on like we had in the past. Spending our free nights together, laughing, joking, having fun together, sharing memories, crying, hugging, everything we used to do…

But of course, those dreams had not come into fruition.

When you volunteered to be shipped out of the country for a mission the day after Steve’s party, I knew it was to get away from me. And despite my frustration and worry about you leaving on some dangerous mission without me in the state you were in, Steve assured me that you would be fine. He didn’t know the extent of what happened, but Steve being the inquisitive son of a bitch he is, he was able to connect some of the dots at least. Surprisingly he didn’t lecture or judge me. I was expecting to get an earful from him about how I treated you, led you on, and hurt your feelings, but in return I got nothing.

The mission was only supposed to last for two weeks, but as the days grew longer, the whole team was on edge when the two of you didn’t return. Steve kept communications with Tony, and he would pass along the messages to the rest of us. “They hit a snag. They are safe but they are bunking down for a bit.”

I felt like I was on pins and needles. I just needed to know you were safe, that you were okay. I must have looked worse for wear around the tower, because even Nat noticed and had a conversation with me in my room. It was a little strange. Having her back in my apartment, alone, her fiery gaze still as piercing as it was when we were together. But those feelings I held for her were gone. Something else lingered there, a fondness for the time we had, but nothing more.

I knew she was your best friend, so I assumed you told her everything about what happened at the party, but when she came into my apartment with a stern gaze on me, arms crossed and all, all she said was.

“I don’t know what happened the other night at Steve’s party, but you need to stop moping and get a grip.”

“I’m fine. Stay out of it,” I said with an icy tone.

Nat just rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at me. “If you don’t feel anything for her, then stay away or get your shit together. She cares about you too much to walk away from you, Bucky.” Nat’s voice grew softer as she thought of you. “Whenever she comes back, and she will come back, she needs to heal. She cannot continue to be your emotional support puppet. It's draining her, James. Every time she returns from hanging out with you I see less and less of her return. She cannot continue to give you all of her heart when she is receiving none of it back.

“So for her sake, please, let her go.”

It was a hard thing to hear, but it was necessary. I stopped driving myself mad with when you would return. It was difficult, maddeningly so, but after another week I was able to distract myself enough with other things… other people. I did a few missions here and there, nothing that took me out of the country, but it filled some of the time I had to think about you.

I spent time with Nadia, the girl I had gone on a few dates with, the girl I had broken your heart over. Our relationship was purely physical. She was another distraction, someone to pass the time with. She didn’t seem to mind the distance I put between us. We weren’t exclusive by any means, and she was free to explore all of her options, but that was as far as that would go. Not that I could ever tell you this, even though I wanted to.

That was the shittiest part of it all. I missed you. Constantly. I missed talking with you about every single part of my day. I missed hearing about your day, or the silly little thoughts that swirled in your curious head. I missed spending my weekends with you, staying up until the sun rose, seeing you curled up in a ball on my couch, sleeping so peacefully. The ache in my chest never ceased, but I was able to drown away the thought of you for moments at a time.

And then you returned.

It was like a blow to the heart, seeing you standing in the kitchen, casually making yourself a bowl of cereal. Your skin seemed tanner than when you left. Clearly you had been somewhere where the sun kissed your skin for long periods of time. You looked beautiful, even just in your morning casual wear. You hadn’t noticed me yet. I was frozen in the entryway, trying to think of something intelligible to say to you, when Steve walked in through the other way. He too had not noticed me yet, his skin also sunkissed and a bit long.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, I watched as my best friend slid his arms around your waist, turned you around in a swift and gentle motion, and kissed you. Ice filled my veins and it felt as if a rock had dropped in my stomach. I staggered backwards a bit, hiding myself more in the darkness of the archway as I saw the scene unfold.

Steve was kissing you. His hands were gentle around your waist, and although you were taken by surprise in the moment, you stood on your toes to be more on his level. You cupped his face and smiled. You were smiling. You looked…happy.

I slipped away back down the hallway and into my room before I could see more. The image of my best friend kissing the love of my life was burned into my mind. I sat on my bed in a disgruntled mess, fighting the strange waves of feelings that were swirling in my body.

You were finally back. You were safe. At that I was able to release the tension in my chest that I had been holding since you left. And then… Steve. What had changed during those six weeks you were gone? Was it serious? Did you love him? Did he love you? These questions paced back and forth inside of my brain until I was nearly dizzy.

It was the memory of Nat’s voice that stuck out amongst my own thoughts. “Let her go.”

You had been happy in that kitchen. Steve was a good man, too good to play with someone’s feelings if he didn’t truly feel something for them. Steve was good for you. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? The reason why I broke your heart in the first place? To set you free to find someone that would love you in all the ways I was incapable of doing. Why was I mad that you had done that? Why did I want to punch Steve for kissing you?

I clenched my fists as I sat on the bed. My body shook with so much emotion. In the torental storm that was my mind, I tried to focus on one memory. The only one that mattered. That night on the balcony. You had stood there, hair swirling in the breeze, more beautiful than the night sky. And you said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words calmed me. The memory of that night grounded me. Your tears. Your sadness. Your anger. I caused that. “I’m in love with you.” That is what you told me. And even though I wanted to scream it back, to shout it from the roof that I loved you too, instead I denied you. I threw it back in your face to save you from what I am. I hurt you, and this was my punishment. Seeing you pick up the pieces of that love that I shattered and give it to someone who would nurture that love.

I sat there thinking and thinking, until my head was pounding. I laid down on my bed, the image of you kissing someone else burning in my head.

“I’m in love with you too,” I muttered to myself.

Then, as tears began to silently fall down my face, I began to laugh.

#reader x marvel #marvel fanfic club #fan fic author #fic writing #james bucky barnes #fem reader #marvel #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #heartbroken #angst #angst prompt

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moni-logues · 7 months

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Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts smut #mmm repost

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 10 months

Note

Can I please request a Jeremiah x reader smut where it’s both of their first times! Smut but also cute and fluffy! Thank you ♥️

This is my first time writing for Jeremiah, please be nice. While I like him in the show - I am not team Jeremiah though -, I find him difficult to write about, so idk if I'll keep him on my list...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When it comes to losing your virginity, you've always wanted to wait for the right moment to do it. Maybe it was watching rom-coms and reading hundreds of romances that implanted this vision in your mind, or maybe it was just you wanting to make that big moment perfect, knowing you could never re-do it if you jinxed it…or worse, regret it.

‘’I have not,’’ Belly confessed quietly, shaking her head. ‘’Cam and I went on our third date. It’s way too early.’’ She picked at a loose thread on her shorts, not exactly comfortable talking about sex but feeling comfortable enough to talk about it with you. ‘’Have you and Jere..?’’

‘’No,’’ you said, excluding the other things you and Jeremiah had done that weren’t full-on penetrative sex. ‘’But we are thinking about it.’’

Belly’s attention snapped up. ‘’Oh?’’

You nodded, a light flush tinted your cheeks.

‘’Are you nervous?’’

You nodded again.

So many things could go wrong even if you make sure everything is perfect. You also heard some girls say it hurt the first time and that they bled, which scared you a little.

Belly grabbed your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. ‘’I may not know anything about sex, but what I know is that it’s Jeremiah. He loves you. There’s nothing to be nervous about,’’ she assured you.

A few weeks later, the day finally came.

Your mom was out at her book club meeting and your dad was at the country club, leaving the house to yourself for a few hours. Taking advantage of their absence, you texted Jeremiah to come over…and to bring the condoms.

It was bold and definitely had him grinning on his couch at home before making up an excuse to ditch Steven at video games and shower and get ready for the big event.

While Jeremiah was getting ready, you did the same. You put on matching bra and underwear, gave your hair an extra brush and spritzed yourself with Jeremiah’s favorite perfume of yours, lit some candles for ambiance although it was burning hot outside. You made sure everything was perfect.

Except it wasn’t perfect.

Right when Jeremiah unhooked your bra, his phone started blaring loudly and wouldn't stop. After the fifth ring, Jeremiah answered and left, needing to pick up his mother at the country club. He said he could come back after, but the moment was already ruined.

By some miracle, you were presented another perfect opportunity a few days later.

Susannah was out with Belly and Laurel for a debutante dress fitting, Conrad was at the beach surfing, and Steven was with Shayla.

You and Jeremiah were having a swim in his pool to cool down from the sun. Summer was beautiful, but the heat was too much sometimes. Thankfully, Jeremiah had a nice pool, which you loved to take advantage of. As always, playful splashing turned into kissing and soon enough, you were making out.

You moved things upstairs to Jeremiah’s room for more privacy, and also because didn’t want your first time to be in a pool or on the Fisher’ back porch.

‘’Careful!’’ Jeremiah reminded as the two of you hurried upstairs, leaving water all over the floors despite being wrapped in a towel. ‘’The floors are slippery when we—’’

You caught his arm in time before he could slip and fall, sending the two of you in a fit of laughter. The fun was interrupted when he backed you against the wall and kissed you in the hallway. You melted against him and let your towel drop.

Jeremiah brought you to his bed, not caring about the wet patched your wet baiting suits would leave behind. It's not like you were going to keep them on for very long.

Hands were all over each other's body, exploring and grabbing while you were kissing with desire. You undid the ties of your bikini, chucking it on the floor, then moved to your bottoms. Your whole body was on fire under Jeremiah's touch — you needed it all off.

You reached for Jeremiah's shorts, helping him out because it was harder to take off when wet...and horny, but that's when Steven decided to walk in like he owned the place, catching sight of Jeremiah's bare ass.

For the rest of the summer, you weren't able to find a good moment. Jeremiah was either working at the country club's pool, or someone was home. You could have snuck to an empty bedroom at a party, but a stranger's bedroom was nothing romantic for a first time.

You were starting to get impatient so, one night he was supposed to drive you home, you made him pull over and stop the car. It was dumb and had high risks of getting caught, but you didn't care.

‘’Are you sure?'' Jeremiah asked, seeing you pull your dress over your head. ''We don’t have to if you don’t.’’

You shook your head, looking right into his beautiful blue eyes. ‘’You’re my best friend, Jere. I want it to be you. I want it to be now.’’

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher imagine #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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pink-valkyrie-writes · 1 year

Text

Mercy, Moira, Kiriko, Junker Queen and Sombra relationship hc’s

- reader is kept gender neutral

-warnings: fluff, some angst, nsfw

-I am very gay for these women so why not write about them:) This post is also gonna be a long one so hop in fellas

-Sombra’s is a little longer due for backstory reasons

-part 2!

Mercy

- ah yes, the earth angel herself who has had my heart since 2016 <3

-Angela is very loyal and loving to you but her role as a medic gets in the way most of the time. She feels bad every time she has to leave during the night (especially after making love to you, she doesn’t see it as just sex), during date nights, or even on her days off that you planned for her to de-stress

-but even with all that, you stay by her side and help get rid of that fear. You love how she is dedicated to her job and how amazing she is at it

- I could imagine from the crazy hours she works, she is sleep deprived. She gets maybe 3 hours of sleep at most. When she comes home to see you on the couch, she slips off her shoes and coat to come lay on top of you and sleep.

-She loves when you come and visit her at work!!! Whether you work for overwatch or not, spending her lunch break with you, with food that you bring for her, always puts a smile on her face

-Though you love her, you do find yourself sad or disappointed a lot because of her work. You know this isn’t her fault and she always makes it up to you, but you do get lonely. You would find yourself crying to sleep at night. Yes, you’re not hero, but a regular person who was lucky enough to get with this angel of a woman, but at what price?

-Every relationship has their arguments, yours doesn’t get too heated cause you both are rational, but you two do find yourself arguing in the beginning of her always work and how you feel lonely in a place you both share and call home. When she first saw you cry during an argument due to this problem, Angela felt her stomach sink. She never intended to make you cry or be upset. She’s able to calm you down, also expressing her fear of you leaving her

- You both come to an agreement to always let the other know how you feel and try to understand where they are coming from. Angela actually starts looking for assistants to train! She would like to have help around the office to get work done faster but also means she can spend time you with.

-She also wants you to become well acquainted with them as well in case you ever needed help from them and vice versa. A huge strain was lifted off of your relationship and she found herself more at home with you <3

-Pulling away from the topic of work, Angela loves to cook meals with you! Specially if they meals are from her home country.

-Whenever you made a traditional swiss dishes for your anniversary, she teared up and thanked you over and over again. It’s hard to get a meal from home whenever your work is crazy, she’s thankful you thought of her love for her country

-Spa day!!! She loves when you run her a warm bath with her favorite scented candles of pomegranate, red berries, and patchouli (totally not the candle I have in my room)

-Angela loves doing face masks with you to detox <3

-Idk why I see her as a handy person??? Oh you got a new desk?? Oh s/o let her build it for you. Got a new shelf? Don’t worry, Angela can do it

-Angela loves to show you off to her coworkers. You’re the light of her life, her loving s/o. She would go to the ends of the earth for you

nsfw

-Doesn’t matter what you identify as, she tops. End of story. There are a few occasions she bottoms.

-She always has to take care of people but whenever she takes care of you sexually, she feels the same fulfillment after a days of work

-Doesn’t mean she sees sex as a chore or job!!! she just loves being able to take care of her baby <3

- Event though she wears a strap, she loves to watch you suck the dildo that’s in the harness. She can’t feel anything but just seeing you looking up at her with your sweet eyes her mind goes blank and can only think of how beautiful you are. Loves to receive and give oral <3

-Will absolutely play doctor with you but she slips in medical terms you don’t understand lol

-Her breast is definitely sensitive- so when you are relaxing on the couch and you slip your hands up her shirt to massage her chest, she’s putty in your hands. Holding onto your wrists and she leans her head back and moans for you

-Loves when you ride her- when she looks up at you, you look absolutely ethereal riding her strap

-When the few times she does bottom, she finds herself slipping into her native language, switching from english to german, especially when she’s getting close. Even if you don’t understand german, you picked up on a few phrases yourself

-Like I said, my gal is sensitive, so vibrators are a good friend to have! She loves when you look her in her eyes when you control the vibrator, making her look into your eyes when she cums <3

Moira

-my favorite “un-ethical” genetic engineer (aka my lesbian lover)

-Moira is definitely hard person to come around due to her intimidating presence. But that didn’t stop you from pinning for her

-When she notices people, she takes subtle mental notes. When she first met you, she isn’t thought how cute you are, adorable even

-The first few times she interacted with you it was strictly about work, But over time you noticed how she would make little jokes to you like:

“did you also notice how that guy is wearing his tie wrong?’

“Hello y/n, did sombra contact you today about lunch plans? Are you going to her little...festivity?” (she prayed you would say yes)

“Y/n, would you like to come get coffee with me?”

-That was her first time asking you out and you loved it! She took you to her favorite cafe that happened to be anime themed and slowly she would tell you how her drink inspired from Naruto was the best and the plot line of the show

-When your relationship starts, Moira will put her work above you. Sorry not sorry, it’s the truth. Science is her entire life, she cares and adores you, but her first love is science

-It does pain you she chooses science over you. Date night? Oops sorry, I forgot, I was caught up with work. You cooked dinner? Sorry my love, I’m caught up at work right now so don’t stay up for me. Sometimes you find yourself crying to sleep and when you wake up with puffy eyes, Moira points them out but you brush it off.

-One night it came to a halt. You were getting ready to leave for the day and went to go grab your lover for home time. When you called her name she didn’t answer, You repeated yourself and she snapped for you to leave her alone and that she’s busy. You tell Moira that you’ll be cooking dinner tonight and she went on with her favorite sentence, “Sorry my love, I’m staying late tonight, you don’t have to wait up for me okay?”

-Something snapped, you started to yell how she gives all her attention to her work and never you. How at this point you were just someone she could have company with. Moira scoffed, “Why do you have to act so childish? I already told you from the beginning what your place is,”

-Childish? Your place...? Without saying another word, you slammed her door, storming to the car to get home. As soon as you arrive you burst into tears crying while getting undressed to go to bed. The sheets and blanket smelled like her, which made you cry harder. You decided to take an old shirt of hers and put it on a pillow, grab a round throw pillow, and made a makeshift model of Moira. You kissed the pillows cheek and whispered a goodnight.

-She come home that night upset, mad at you and herself, why couldn’t you understand her work? Why couldn’t she be a better girlfriend? She quietly reheated leftovers you made and eat in silence. God she hates this silence.

-When she came into your shared room her heart ached. Were you so deprived of her you had to make a makeshift version of her? Now she understands how lonely you truly feel. She changed and climbed into bed, removing the pillows from your grasp. You woke up a bit and she shush you to go back to sleep. She held you to her chest as she confessed how bad she felt from earlier, how she was wrong for underestimating your feelings and how she was in the wrong, not you. You began to cry softly at her words, and she shushed you, kissing your forehead and reassuring she loved you.

-That morning you woke up in her arms, but she was already awake watching you sleep. She kissed you good morning and told you she called the next few days off to be with you and make up for lost time. She apologized once again but this time you kissed her to let her know you forgive her.

-all right let’s move onto happy stuff!!

-When she is at her apartment with you, she loves to watch anime with you. If you’re an anime fan, good, she loves that! You two can talk about your favorite shows, compare theories, and even show each other new animes to talk about

-At times, she catches herself feeling embarrassed since anime is typically “for kids and young adults”, she’s an older woman and feels a bit insecure about it. Please comfort her!! Tell her it’s okay to have interests

-She has little figures of her favorite characters on a shelf in her room idc- definitely cosplayed once or twice and will cosplay with you!

-Since Moira is busy, take-out and delivery services are your best friends!

-Moira has never felt this much of a connection with someone before and she doesn’t want to lose it. She loves when you kiss the knuckles of her corrupted arm, showing love to the science she has done. That arms also tends to hurt from time to time so heat packs!! Loves the lay in bed with you with you hold the heat pad to her arm to help her relax

-Moira is a sucker for being a little spoon but won’t admit it, please hold her too!!

nsfw

-Another top! Moira needs to dominant everything she does, including you <3 but she does bottom is you beg nicely

-another proud strap user, isn’t one for receiving oral but loves to use her mouth on you. She also loves to look at you while doing so to make you shy

-loves missionary! she loves to see all your facial reaction whenever she goes fast, rough, slow, or soft

-a secret of hers is she wants you to dress up as her favorite character for her <3 and if you do she is caught off guard but enjoys herself either way and will thank you after (maybe ask you to do it again some time)

-Moira isn’t above of dragging you into her empty lab and fingering you (don’t worry her middle and index fingernails are press on and can be removed) The risk of getting caught excites her, but she always keeps a hand over your mouth just incase

-I see her as the type to have a flogger or whip, she loves to see how your body reacts to the slight pain and how you vocal you are when you have your ass and thighs slapped by her

-latex lady. I won’t elaborate

-I am part of the “calling hot woman ‘daddy’ committee. She feels powerful when that word slips out of your mouth. She does lean to the androgynous side, she does expect to hear ‘mommy’ at most, which you have called her, but she actually prefers daddy

-play with her breast and suck her nipples. Small boobs are the best and always melts when you play with her. She gets sensitive and lets out breathy moans which makes you go wild <3

-When she bottoms, praise her! She isn’t well liked among her colleuges or really anyone at Talon, so when you tell her she’s amazing and doing a great job, she will cover her face (uncover her beautiful face )

-totally down for you to finger her while she reads her books <3

Kiriko

- my little fox hehe <3

-Kiriko is definitely an outgoing person! She’s involved with her community, and you admired her for that!

-She met you at a festival and couldn’t help but stop and stare when she saw you. How beautiful and cheerful you were made her turn her head

-Though she is outgoing, doesn’t mean she’s confident when it comes to asking people out. She feels super shy and she definitely doesn’t want to mess up at all

-When you two are on a date and you see how almost everyone knows who she is and is all smiles when Kiriko passes by, you knew she was a good person to be around

-Kiriko knows sign language and will teach you if you ask! If you are deaf, it wouldn’t faze her. She just sees you as another person, not your disability.

-You love to see how she interacts with kids. If you ever want kids in the future of your relationship, she would be all for it. Kiriko also loves to see you interact with the little girl in her cinematic! Seeing you interact with the child makes her heartbeat faster (in a good way)

-Since you’re with Kiriko, be prepared for her mother and the Shimada brothers. Her mother wants nothing but the best for her, you need to prove that you are strong enough physically and mentally. You never know what can happen.

-Hanzo and Genji are the other ones you have to look at out. Genji is more laid back, a “cool older brother” figure who only wants you to prove you are always going to be there for Kiriko. Hanzo on the other hand is the protective older brother figure who agrees with her mother. He silently judges you with her mother, like he does most people, but with you it feels more frequent, and you can’t help but snap after built up tension

-This pressure from people outside of your relationship builds on you. You admitted to Kiriko about this, and she felt conflicted. Yes, she trusts you and knows you care about her, but she will always listen and respect her elders and defend them at first

-You felt bad for being upset, knowing this is her family worrying about her but there is only so much criticism you can handle, specially from people you want to make a good impression on. You tell this to her and she understands completely where you’re coming from. She doesn’t want to upset you more, but this is her mother we are talking about. You cry to her how you don’t feel good enough for her and constantly worried of doing the wrong thing, knowing her mother or brothers are waiting till you slip up to point it out.

-The two of you go back and forth on this multiple times till you come to an agreement. You train with her mother and Hanzo but they have to take it easy on you and let you prove that you are just right for her. Though she is an adult, she’ll always be her mother’s baby and Hanzo’s little sister

-Kiriko loves going on rides on her bike (as a voice line indicates) and will take you on a ride! Either if you have your own or if you hop on hers. She loves taking you to different places on her bike hehe <3

-It’s definitely your job to help her eat REAL meals, not just donuts and junk food. (which her mother praises you for)

-Will tell you all the stories of the fox spirit and her personally experiences <3 specially likes it when she can lay her head in your lap and go on and on about her stories

-she will be more than happy to teach any martial art moves to help you in combat! She is your number one supporter and will always be there to cheer you on

-she can’t wait for the night where her mother invites you over for dinner and talks to you, not giving you glancing or make subtle comments on your lack of fighting skills

nsfw

-A switch but I can def see her leaning towards being a bottom, but more of a bossy bottom

-She loves to receive oral but she always returns the favor, she always whines whenever you when use your tongue

-Definitely a hair pulling. Either it be when you give her head or if she if pulling your hair back when she is fucking you

-Since she is blessed by the fox spirit, I know she has sharp canines and I know she loves to bite and mark you for others to see. After your session, she always treats your bites and make sure you’re okay

-will be down to fuck after training, especially if the two of you were sparring and being physical with each other. She will be on top for these sessions, her adrenaline is already running and wants to be rough with you

-will keep going till she out of energy, she’s an all nighter while the others on this list can go for 2-3 rounds

-She loves to play soft music in the background while you two fuck, it enhances the atmosphere, and she loves to be fucked by you to her favorite songs

-favorite position would be cuddle fucking, she can’t place her finger on it but having you close to her while you slowly grind into her, filling her up, she feels so hot and bothered.

- She loves the way you whisper into her ear as you lift her leg up to fuck her deeper, you always manage to take her breath away. Kiriko really love this position for morning sex as well

Junker Queen

-waaaa my muscular wife

-Odessa loved being the queen of Junker Town-she’s a strong ruler, knows what’s best, and can handle her own...but it does get lonely at the top

-Doesn’t matter if you’re a junker or an outsider that happened to stumble across to Junker Town, you catch her eye immediately. You stand out to her, even if she is fighting again in the reckoning to keep her title as queen

-She would come stop you were ever you were and talk to you. Of course, you were intimidated by the 7-foot-tall woman in front of you, but you were able to keep your composure for the conversation

-Odessa was blunt with you and told you that you caught her attention, in a good way of course, and how she wanted to get to know you better. Though she is tough as steel, she still gets a bit nervous of fear of being rejected

-Once she has made things official with you, she introduces you to her people as the other queen of Junker Town. Of course people were surprised she dated but they show you the same amount of respect.

-They know if they were to ever hurt, disobey, or disrespect you in any, not Odessa, but Junker Queen will personally beat the shit out of them and toss them to the wastelands

-Though you appreciate her standing up for you, the violence to you is too much after some time. when you try to talk to her about this she yells how she does it for you, it’s all for you. She makes into a one-man screaming battle, but she’s a lover by heart and will come to you after a few hours and apologize. She gets on her knees and hugs you by your waist, head resting on your chest

-At this point she opens up to you about her time in the Wastelands and how they have forever changed her. She cares for you like she cared for family, fighting every day to live in the harsh outside world of Junker Town. She admits she is scared to death to lose you and fights for you like how she fought for her loved ones. Odessa also admits to having nightmares in your shared bed but never wakes you up because she needs to have strong image and doesn’t want to be seen as weak

-By the end of this confession she is crying into your chest. You rub the top of her back and you comfort her. You remind her that you may be with the Junker Queen, you’re also with Odessa Stone

-She now is rational with her decision making and you tell her to ask for your help when need be, you told her it’s okay to ask for help. Hell, everyone her people noticed an attitude change when you came around, you’re great for her!

-Odessa loves sharing everything she has with you, especially music! She loves to blast her rock music in her chambers with you, jumping on the bed you two share and going into laughing fits together

-Your girlfriend is a very handy and resourceful person, you have to be to live in Junker Town. She will make you special weaponry and armor <3 always craving her and your initials into the metal

-I feel Odessa can do your hair! From cutting it to dying it, your girlfriend will do anything to help you feel beautiful with your appearance, even though you’re already so beautiful to her <3

-You are also in LOVE with her accent, she already a pretty rough girl and her voice is *chef’s kiss*. Sometimes when she’s mad and goes full aussie you can’t really understand her unless you yourself are aussie

nsfw

-She’s a total dom, no bottoming for her. She loves when “you please your queen”

-the only thing she’ll really “bottom” for is receiving oral. She loves how tiny you look compared to her and think you look sweet when you eat her out. She loves to eat you out but LOVES when you sit on her face. None of that hovering shit, she wants the full thing. She’s a big girl and can handle it!

-Odessa loves when you sit in her lap and bounce on her strap, she has a size kink and plans to utilize it. Not even just sexually, she loves how small you are and because of your size, she will fuck you standing up. She loves the amount of power she holds outside and in the bedroom.

-She also plays music during sex! But she plays music from time to time when you guys have sex unlike Kiriko who plays music during sex pretty often. there’s something about fucking you hard to the beat of her favorite songs, since her favs are metal, be prepared to be banged to the drum rhythm

-she will bring in Gracie from time to time. She mostly uses her to cut your clothes off your body but if you are comfortable with it, she will carve in her name into your thigh. She always makes sure to clean up and clean your cuts effectively, so they don’t get infected

-Throne sex! Throne sex! Throne sex! She doesn’t even care if people see or not, she finds it so hot that you are so willing to please her in a chair that represents her power and dominance over you and her people

-Her favorite position is doggy style. The way you look back at Odessa and moan her name like a prayer always does it for her. Slapping your ass to watch it jiggle, making you look back at her, pulling you by your hair...all of the things she loves other than you as a person <3

Sombra

- my silly hacker who also has had my heart since 2016<3

-Oliva kept herself in the shadows, she needed to so she can protect her identity as Sombra. She always needed to know everything about everyone, no matter what.

-As another night passes, another person’s skeletons in their closet are found by Sombra. She looks through the picture of the businessman she planned on exploiting next, but something caught her eye. In the picture of what it seems to be a faculty group photo, she spotted you in the back row. She zoomed in and couldn’t help but admire how pretty you are, now her focus was on you. For the next few days she tries her best to find everything about you. Where you live, your childhood, the college you went to, hell even your internet browsing history. And she wasn’t doing this for her own benefit to expose you, she was obsessed with you

-For the next Talon mission, they were able to break into the companies building and she was able to have a chat about ‘business matters’ with your boss. As a deal, he transferred some employees, including you, for ‘business opportunities’ to work for Talon in fear of his dirty deeds going public

-You were comforted to know that you fellow employees were there with you to comfort you in with this change. You’ve heard of Talon and what they stand for and feel like you have to walk on eggshells there. Though you didn’t interact too much with the head council, Sombra seem to have an eye on you

-Yes, she would mess with your co workers but never seem to do that with you. With them there was some malicious factor behind it but when Sombra teased it you it was like you two have been friends for years. After a while, Sombra was finally close enough to you to ask you out, which you accepted. She was super happy to know that the efforts worked out in her favor, they always did

-She would come visit you when you would work and keep you entertained while you slaved away to the paperwork in front of you. Massaging your shoulders, whispering compliments into your ear, and kissing your cheeks were her favorite thing to distract you with while you worked.

-You were close with your old boss and kept in contact with him. After a long phone call, he had admitted that Sombra threated him to give him employees or else he would be exposed to the public. He mentioned how Sombra was very adamite about you coming with her more than the others, saying it was like she knew you, wanted you, and had done this to get you.

-You felt frozen, was this true? Was this whole shift in not just your career life but your social life due to the fact your girlfriend just wanted you this whole time? This whole thing was planned out?

-On a war path, you stormed to her room and started to yell at her of how she could be so selfish and how you were just like a pretty china doll she could keep for fun. Sombra was so use on never being called out on her manipulative behavior. She couldn’t really defend herself know that you knew the truth. it was worse when you began to cry, sobbing into your hands.

-”What was this for huh?! You just wanted a “pretty girl” to call yours because you thought I was good looking?! YOU have changed and put my life in danger for YOUR benefit!”

-Not Sombra, but Olivia sat you down and confessed. For the first time she admitted her wrongs and she didn’t know how to do it. She tried her hardest, but you kept crying harder and left. After a few days, Olivia came to your room and wanted to talk, you agreed. She confessed you she was wrong for only seeing you as a pretty girl, not thinking about what being apart of Talon means for your life. By the end, she was crying though tried not to. You sighed and gave her a hug where she cried harder. When her crying stopped, you pulled back and gave her a kiss on the lips, which she happily accepted.

-You made Olivia promise to only stay by her side if she could protect from anything that came your way. You really did like her and honestly didn’t want to leave her. Olivia accepted and from that day on she has been 1000% honest with everything with you

-Now with the sadness out of the way, let’s focus on happy stuff!

-Sombra loves to cook with you! As Mercy, she loves when you cook meals that are home to her country. You always apologize in advance if it doesn’t taste like the “real thing” but she doesn’t care, she loves your cooking and your meals bring back memories of Dorado

-In a voice line interaction with Moira, she talks about the carpel tunnel in her wrists. When you two are laying down together, you always rub her wrists and fingers to drain the fluid build-up in her hands. She loves these soft, caring moments with you

-I bet her posture is really bad (just like mine) so whenever she is sitting in a chair, you always put a pillow between her back and the chair. She already had messed up hands, you can’t let your girlfriend have a messed up back too!

-Olivia loves to play with your hair, you let her try different style but do you trust her giving you a haircut?...not so much. Sorry Olivia, but Amélie has told your s/o of the time she cut her hair as a “prank”...which didn’t end well

-speaking of Amélie- her, Gaberial, and Moira asks you constantly how you can put up with her shenanigans. You shrug, they wouldn’t understand how you understand Olivia’s charm

-Dating Olivia you also become good friends with Siebren! Olivia makes it her job to watch out for him so he isn’t tested on, so if she isn’t around, you can watch over him! To some it seems like babysitting, but you end up really close to him! Olivia is happy to know that <3

nsfw

-my girl is a switch, 50/50

-Olivia loves watching you give her head, she thinks you look perfect between her legs. She also loves to eat you out, maybe one of her favorite things about sex with you tbh, she just loves watching you enjoy yourself and feel good

-With your permission, she has recorded some sessions with you. Whenever she goes away for missions and you aren’t around, she fingers herself to videos of her fucking you. she has also gave you videos to keep for yourself whenever you feel lonely with he gone.

-Olivia loves risky sex. Unlike Moira, she doesn’t cover your mouth and does it in a spot anyone can walk in. If someone happens to walk in and try to tell other people? Their social security and credit card numbers are already leaked for other hackers in the world to use

-Like Angela, if she is bottoming, she will start speaking to you in spanish but with her she will continue to speak in spanish until she is finished <3

-Olivia works with her fingers all day, you know her fingering game is good

-She is a hair puller when she’s on top, not so much for her when she is on bottom cause of the wires in her hair, have to be careful. So instead, she prefers it when you put her face into the mattress

-Favorite position is lotus. It’s a very intimate position and she loves to hold you in her arms as you ride her strap or vice versa. She loves to take her time and show you how much you mean to her. Her life is filled with craziness, but this sharing a moment like this with you will always be her favorite.

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Thank you so much for reading!! I had a lot of fun writing this :00

likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! <3

part 2 coming!

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swamp-adder · 2 months

Text

Like many fans I've always had issues with Holmes' retirement in canon... not just the separation from Watson but the fact that he always loved detective work so much and it's just hard for me to think of a non-depressing reason why he decided to retire so early in life, move away from everything he loves and focus all his time on some random new hobby that we've never heard about before. I mean even though he's a solitary guy I just have a hard time believing Holmes would actually want to move out to the middle of nowhere where he can't easily go and see concerts whenever he wants.

I know some fic writers try to make sense of it by positing that he had a transformative experience during the Hiatus where he learned how to relax and find true happiness and emotional fulfillment by living a peaceful life appreciating nature instead of doing morbid stuff like obsessing over murders and risking his life all the time, but I dunno... it's not exactly that I find this unbelievable and more that the idea of Sherlock Holmes as a zen nature lover who couldn't be truly happy until he quit being a detective just doesn't appeal to me very much lol.

So how about this alternative theory:

Holmes is sick of being famous and having people hassle him all the time for interviews/autographs/etc (THAT part I can definitely believe). Around 1903 he gets fed up and decides to leave Baker St and secretly move to another location in London, possibly even under the thin façade of an assumed name to keep the neighbors from asking too many questions. (Maybe Mrs. Hudson also retired from landladying around this time and that was part of the impetus for him to leave.) For a while he'll go back to being primarily a "consulting" detective, taking cases from a few Scotland Yard inspectors or government officials who can be trusted with his new address. He had previously banned Watson from publishing any more stories about him, precisely to avoid growing his fame even further; but now he says, "You can publish more stories, but only on the condition that you tell them I'm retired and not living in London anymore." Then Watson is like "How should I say you're spending your retirement?" and Holmes is like "IDK, keeping bees?" as like a random joke. Either that or Watson made up all the "peaceful life of a country beekeeper" stuff to twit Holmes because it's the complete opposite of what he actually enjoys.

Of course eventually people will start piecing together the truth, so Watson writes "The Lion's Mane" to further push the story (and/or as another joke, making it deliberately ridiculous to see if people will still buy it).

Eventually, sometime after the war, Holmes does retire for real; but he stays in London (maybe at still a third address, to shake off the people who managed to track him down last time). He spends his days doing chemical work and writing his book on detection and going out to concerts every night. Watson may or may not live with him, but in any case he's also still in London and they see each other all the time. The end.

#sherlock holmes #acd holmes #watson as unreliable narrator

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kingconia · 9 months

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hiiiiii! ugh, i am not sure if you take requests? but if you do, can i ask you leona one, where reader is the descendant of scar, and afterglow savanna always treats her like shit, thinking she will try to kill farena or leona?? idk tbh the dynamic between her and others, but maybe with a prompt "why are you keep protecting me?" "because if anyone kills you it will be me?" BUT NOT ANGSTY MORE LIKE CHEESY ONE like she is joking she has no plans to do so!!

(also maybe she is friend with azul bc both of them manipulative masterminds idk)

A/N: that's actually sounds so fun. i am genuinely invested, though, i had never thought that someone will ask me to write something. but, oh, darling, thank you. i would love do that more, so if anyone wants, i am open to your ideas.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR × READER, WHO IS SCAR'S DESCENDANT

warnings: not detailed mention of blood and some threats with mentions of gore? it is lighter than it sounds.

Hatred followed you from a very young age. And it wasn't necessarily yours.

You were six, when you learned to understand that kindness will not help you survive. But cruelty will.

Abandoned, throwed away, you were nothing in the world of kings and queens. Your whole existence were cursed from the day you made your first breath, and no one was going to tell you why. Why you were so hated by the whole country, by every single person in your motherland? Why your mother turned away from you? Why you were considered to be dangerous?

But the more you grew, the more you understood that it is for the better. Their hatred, their suspicion, their rage. It made you the independent person. The predator.

And you were fine with that.

At some point, you stopped caring about what all of them thought. Instead, it filled you with even more power to move forward.

And so you survived. Proudly, with chin up to the sky, ignoring the way others treated you.

Savannaclaw wasn't necessarily bad, though. You thought it will be; Farena Kingscholar never being kind to you, and his kingdom therefore, too. But Savannaclaw was different. There, your only king was Leona. And Leona didn't care whose descendant you were.

If anything, he never even took it seriously.

”Why the fuck I would care about that cursed king?” He spitted it out once, as Ruggie asked him in what he thought was a whisper, as you passed by. ”Stupid lion is dead for a long time. Why would she care about him, even?”

And that was it. Savannaclaw never acted like you were enemy, no one glared at you with participation, no one was suspicious about your every single world.

You were free.

And the freedom you had gained, finally, made your loyalty to Leona stronger.

So, you didn't really like, when someone offended him.

It was your job to annoy him, to try break his trust towards you by cynical remarks—”oh, my King, you shouldn't trust me with your nephew. What if I tear him apart?” or ”Tsh, tsh, little lion... Haven't your brother told you? You shouldn't really turn your back to the hungry animal,”—even if he never cared.

And if someone tried to steal your job... Well, that would be really-really bad.

”Remind me once again,” you yawned, throwing a grape in your mouth, ”why I am not allowed to fight that Pomfiore boy for you?”

Azul chuckled.

”You got almost expelled twice, tigerfish. I am flatted that you are willing to try it for me, too, but I have more interesting ways to get my revenge.”

Azul was probably the strangest friend you ever had—and you had the only one, who was Jack—but it wasn't necessarily bad. He always got you involved in his plans, and as both of you were thinking about this or that in complete solitude, scheming and laughing, you thought it actually was nice.

”I caught him applying foundation on his face a week ago,” you share with him quietly. ”On the whole face. And let me say, he is not that perfect without it, Zul.”

He gasped dramatically.

”And that after interview, where he says he hates unnatural beauty?!”

”Mhm.”

”Tigerfish, you are so cruel,” he smiled. ”I love it.”

”Sure you are,” your ears moved by itself and you turned your head on the right. ”Do you hear that?”

Voices. Very loud, very angry voices. Usually, you would ignore that, but it was a familiar scent that made you move forward, ignoring Azul's question.

”Are you fucking insane, Hunt?”

”Oi, oi, I only cared to see if you would react immediately!”

You groaned.

Fucking Pomfiore kids.

As you stepped closer, your annoyed expression shifted to a worried one. There was a crossbow in Rook's arms, and Leona was holding an arrow is his hand, face angry.

So, it was it: little hunter tried to hunt Leona down.

Before he acknowledged your presence, you moved forward, raising Rook by his collar, right from behind.

”Don't get frightened, little one,” you said, voice, despite a smirk, vicious. ”I only cared to see if you would react immediately.”

Leona scoffed.

”Aha, how nice! Jolie Lionne! Had you came to save your pretty prince from the trouble?”

You frowned.

”He is the king, hunter.” Your turned him to face you properly, still leaving him hanging in the air. ”Listen to me, sweet human, the next time I see you trying to shoot him, I will scratch your eyes with my claws, and eat them in front of your fake housewarden. And then, I am going to make a feast. Do you hear me?”

His face scrunched for a second, but he put his usual smile on the face rather quickly.

”My, my... We were merely playing! But, fine, fine. As you wish, jolie lionne!”

You freed him, and this time he was rather quick with leaving.

Other students shun you actively, so it wasn't surprising. Beyond Savannaclaw, Azul, and, well, Lillia Van Rouge, other either ignored your existence or avoided you in fear. You had one the hell of the reputation, and your own attitude never helped to fix the damage that rumours left on you.

”I didn't ask you to do that,” Leona clicked his tongue, moving to your right side.

”You never do,” you shrugged. ”I don't really care.”

Maybe it was the fact that you never denied his power, never looked down at him, that helped him to make a peace with the fact that you were so eager to protect him. Because, well, in the beginning, he thought it was offensive.

”You are so fucking strange that, do you know that?” You repeated your previous action, and he continued. ”If I were you, I would love to kill me. And my brother. Especially him. But you keep doing that. Keep guarding me like a lapdog. Why?”

Why?

You wondered about it too, once. But the answer came easily to you.

It was a boy with unusual scar on his young face that stared at you without hatred the first. Simply stared, without any particular emotion, and handed you a little red flower, before leaving.

And though, he probably didn't remember it...

It was still him, who looked at you without despise in his eyes, when both of you grew up, meeting here and there, as your presence should have been always controlled and seen by the royal family.

And it was him, who made Savannaclaw respect you, as he joined this school, a year later than you did.

It was always him.

”Having trouble with creating another lie?” He smirked, moving to stop in front of you, clearly disliking the fact that you ignore his presence.

”You want to know why, Leona?” You tilted your head, meeting his curious eyes. "Because I consider you to be the King, more than your brother ever will, and therefore, I should protect you.”

Before he opened his mouth, you caught him by the chin, moving him closer. He stared at you, not annoyed, but quite lost by this action. Your eyes shimmered with a familiar hunger that always lived inside you.

A hunger for fame. Acceptance. Peace. Blood. Cruelty.

Love.

”And because,” your lips brushed the corner of his, as you breathed out on his cheek, ”if anyone ever tries to rip out your golden heart, my King, it is going to be me.”

His lips curled in a same wicked smile that played on your face.

And as his arms fall on your hips, he accepted the game.

”What a coincidence,” his whisper came out like a purr. ”Because if ever try to rip our my heart, my dear Consort, I will allow it to you.”

A laugh that escaped your chest sounded so taunted that others would find it scary.

But you know Leona didn't. In fact, he enjoyed it very much.

And both of you had a very long journey to find out what else you enjoy about each other. Gladly, you had plenty of time for that.

#leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst leona

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junosmindpalace · 10 months

Note

may i request a gojo x reader one shot where y/n is gojo's former student, after she graduated she went out of the country then after 5 yrs she comes back to work at tokyo jujutsu high as a teacher like gojo. y/n used to have a crush on gojo back then (maybe she still does 😋) and now that y/n's back after a long time gojo kinda missed her so they often spend time together. y/n keeps convincing herself it's just some kind of friendly reunion, nothing more but one day during the sister school goodwill event she gets jealous when she sees gojo teasing utahime and interacting with her. gojo wonders what got y/n into a pissy mood and y/n is like "why do you even care? just go back to your flirting session" then that's where gojo finds out she's just jealous. he'll tease her and idk maybe a confession between them will follow? i'm rlly sorry i suck at explaining things but i hope you get most of it and this gets accepted 😭 thanks! 💓

UNKNOWN / NTH

hi anon! thank you for your request and patience! i changed a couple of details in this request and it turned out soo weirdly angst but the main idea is still there! i hope that’s alright!

3.2k words. a little all over the place.

“call me every single day, you hear me? you can’t leave me all alone with this guy.”

shoko doesn’t even look over her shoulder as she jabs her thumb toward the white haired teen standing behind her shoulder, who drops his mouth open in disbelief at her insulting tone. the tension in your chest eased up as you laughed.

“of course.”

leaving your friends so soon after graduating was hard to wrap your head around, even with a car waiting to take you to the airport outside the gates of the jujutsu tech building and the occasion bump into your suitcase as you shifted your weight between your legs.

with the assassination of the star plasma vessel and the suguru incident that made your worlds turn upside down, it seemed reasonable that you’d want to stay; immerse yourself in something familiar. but staying at jujutsu tech--in japan all together--was overwhelming. you needed time to figure and sort yourself out; cope without having to relive painful memories every time you passed where the incidents took place.

leaving the two people who helped you cope during the ordeal with suguru was difficult, but though they too were pained to part from their friend, they also understood the importance of your leave. they weren’t too stressed, though. you’d stay in touch. you promised.

shoko stepped forward to give you one final departing gift, wrapping her arms around your neck as you immediately reciprocated, and in shoko’s arms did you mull over whether this was the right choice for you for the nth time.

a couple moments pass before the two of you pull apart, with shoko whispering a threatening “you better call.” one final time, jabbing an accusing finger at you as if you had already broken your promise, before stepping off to the side to allow satoru to get his own affairs in order. he stepped toward you with a roll of his eyes.

satoru gojo has been an insufferable ass ever since you met him in your first year. to you, he once came off inconsiderate and ill-mannered, and to satoru, you once came off stuck up and uptight. yet somehow the mutual distaste you two had for each other upon first meeting turned into a friendship filled with teasing.

it felt weird leaving satoru behind especially, because somehow along the bumpy road the two of you took to get to where you were now, something yet again shifted in the way you viewed him, a shift you were still unfamiliar with. it felt strange leaving without it figured out. but you’d get a chance to, you hoped. like with everything else in your bizarre life.

your usual banter insued as satoru took hold of the handle on your suitcase, swinging it back and forth before loading it into the open trunk. you threatened satoru to look out for himself and not be too much of a nuisance while you were away as he did so. he clicked his tongue as he brought the trunk down with a thud! and waved off your false threats.

”don't miss me too much, y/n.” he smirked over his shoulder, tinted glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he stepped back up on the sidewalk. cerulean eyes shone under the morning sunlight, fixed on you with an intense gaze in contrast to his easy smile. you looked over your shoulder as you opened the rear car door, mimicking his expression.

”won't be a problem.”

the first couple of months went strong. you upheld your promise of calling shoko frequently, and satoru would often squeeze himself into the frame of shoko’s camera to tease or hurl an insult toward you. she’d shoo him off or laugh along, because she too missed the playful banter you all once immersed yourselves in. and though you were far from the paths you once trekked with your friends, only ghosts of those moments lingering on them now, at least there was no trace of your dying friendship.

more time passed and contact became less frequent. life went on, and keeping in touch as regularly as you once did became increasingly difficult. only on occasion were you able to organize a chat, so much yet so little to be said. each new life event shared left you to ponder over even hours after you had hung up the phone.

and soon enough, a decade had passed. ten years you thought you’d spend in agony over being away from the people and places you considered home flew by considerably fast, and the thought nauseated you slightly as you reminisced on memories from your youth.

the nostalgia of your teenage years lingered like a light fog in your mind, always finding some way to trace even the most mundane of things back to your old friends, especially satoru gojo. even after ten long, busy years, you still found that annoying white haired friend of yours lingering in the back of your mind.

though so much time had passed, you hadn’t gone cold turkey with your communication from your friends; only infrequent. you knew of the important things: the promising new students at jujutsu tech, satoru becoming a teacher, the curse that was rika, the night parade of a hundred demons, toji’s son that satoru was now looking over—suguru’s death. all things recollected to you from your texts with shoko and gojo. though neither of them were quite big on details.

ten years has definitely granted you time to think, to organize, to consider and try new things. you worked through complicated feelings, you met new people, you saw and experienced new things, and certainly had all those things teach you a couple of important lessons.

and ultimately, after over a decade, you made the decision to return to japan as a teacher at jujutsu tech.

around this time, you felt a consistent nagging as if there was still a missing, unsorted piece of your life. you believed that perhaps the decision to return home was spurred by the growing intensity of it. it built up slowly over your less frequent phone calls and text conversations with your old friends and the ever growing amount of changing of their lives back home. though perhaps suguru’s death compelled you to return as well.

you returned the following year after the night parade of a hundred demons. you convinced yourself it would just be a friendly reunion like with the rest of your old friends, but the second you were standing face to face with satoru, your heart said otherwise.

it wasn’t unusual to feel anxious when reuniting with someone, but the painstakingly long pause that followed upon being reunited after so many years made you suppress a shudder. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the troublemaker you used to go to school with. It was hard to believe he was even real.

you used the silence to get a good look at him, just to make sure it was truly him (and you think satoru was doing the same, regardless of his six eyes.) he had gotten even taller, and he now wore his messy locks of snow white hair up. his uniform was still fitted as it used to be, always just a bit baggier than his tall frame.

but the most prominent difference was his new defining feature, and so you decided to comment on it first. satoru was still in a sort of trance (of shock you guessed; your only indicator were his slightly parted lips) when you broke the ice with a smirk and the words he had parted with you over a decade ago.

"hope you didn’t miss me too much, satoru. what's with the tacky blindfold?”

and the grin that followed on his lips stretched from ear to ear.

satoru your coworker wasn't all that different from satoru your classmate. he was still as childish as ever, irritated by the higher ups and an irritation to all those around him. you found that out rather quickly when reuniting with yaga and nanami. you made a dramatic fuss over how much they both had changed, nanami shyly looking down with a slight frown reminiscent of the signature one he wore when he was younger. you didn’t feel it was appropriate to bring up haibara or suguru at any point.

but your relationship with satoru your coworker was off from your relationship with satoru your classmate. It had been years, and you’ve fallen into your normal rhythm with satoru pretty quickly and easily on the surface. but the passage of time was still evident in your conversations as it was with the changes in your appearances. time matured him (or most likely his ordeals with suguru). even his manner of speaking was so serious sometimes that it caught you off guard. it felt even worse than having him hate you, treating you as if you were a stranger hurting that much more.

so much yet so little had changed. you were taken aback by the amount of maturity in his reasoning for wanting to become a teacher, even if it was so out of place for him, over a catch up brunch. it almost made you feel as if he were a stranger, with a new sense of maturity coupled with his new, more distant look and behaviour.

he’d tease you like he always did, but it didn't have as much bite. he'd show you around tokyo, treating you to desserts and jokingly gifting you funny souvenirs; but because satoru had become so unfamiliar, it didn’t feel as comforting as you thought it would.

and that nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite put your finger on arose again.

you reunited with mei mei and utahime during the sister school goodwill event, with the latter enveloping you in a large hug reminiscent of the ones you received when you left them over a decade ago. they had all stayed relatively close, with utahime becoming a teacher like satoru at the sister school in kyoto.

you were good friends with her, always defending her from satoru’s insults and indulging in her (in your case, faux) hatred toward satoru. you two had also stayed in close contact, appreciating all the emotional support she provided and her updates on the events in her life and the jujutsu world (with complaints about satoru tossed in here and there).

which is why your jealousy was irrational, you thought to yourself as you watched satoru and utahime in the monitoring room. you knew satoru and utahime being the last two people in the world wouldn’t make them fall in love. even if they were, your jealousy was still out of place. if anything, you should feel happy for your two old friends.

but perhaps it had more to do with the distance and familiarity satoru and utahime were able to maintain, even if it was their regular quarreling and distaste for one another. perhaps the way they were able to slip into the routine they’ve kept up for so many years, no matter how ruthless it was, ate at you, reminded you of how different things were between you and satoru. you weren’t two teenagers who’d sometimes catch each other’s stares from across a room. you weren’t attending school together and going on missions.

and the distance was bound to strain your relationship. but you figured that if there was anyone you’d be able to break back into routine with, it was the troublemaker you had known since the two of you were fresh faced students like the ones he now mentors.

it was all those little things stacked atop each other, that casual and distant demeanor satoru treated you with as if you were a stranger, time staring back at you in the mature way he, shoko and utahime carried themselves, and satoru slipping into a routine that you were sure you and him would be able to maintain with someone else, made that whole tower of unease fall apart with that final crack.

he had walked off after you after you had excused yourself from the room, feeling sick the more you thought about the large gap in memories, in time, in knowledge, between you and the others.

“jealous?” he smirked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst (and deeply curious, since it was so out of character for you).

“not a chance.”

not in the way he was suggesting, at least. you waved him off. “go back to your flirting session.”

and Satoru stopped in his tracks, recoiling in disgust over the mere implication. because even he knew that you would never think such a thing of his relationship with utahime, even if he were to one day tell you that something was going on.

perhaps it was the distance, satoru thought to himself sadly. because while to you satoru didn’t seem to be all that affected by your return, he still saw in you that old classmate of his that made his face burn with simply the strength they exhibited, with only a short meeting of gazes from across a room as a teenager, and his heart ached at emotional distance. there was no way that classmate that knew which treats to bribe him with and what games were his favorite would ever assume such a thing about him.

getting through to one another was never easy, both of you equally stubborn in your resolve. and when you throw this terrible distance, these horrible feelings of insecurity and confusion, it made the miscommunication between the two of you that much worse.

but satoru remembers the day you left as if no time had passed at all. he remembers the rising lump in his throat as he watched you say your goodbyes with shoko. he remembers the wave of fear that washed over him as he watched you turn your back from him, reminiscent of the event that took place when his best friend left him for good. he remembers the confession on the tip of his tongue as he looked down at you and into your sharp gleaming eyes, words he’s debated with himself for years over whether or not he was a coward or a hero in not saying.

and right now, as he stares at your confused and hurt expression, your back turned to him yet again, all those feelings wash over him and he feels as if it may be the former, because now he’s let his insecurity hurt you. but he also knows that whether he was a coward or hero then doesn’t matter now. he wouldn’t allow a repeat of what happened all those years ago. he wouldn't let himself hesitate.

he reached to grab your wrist, and you harshly recoiled, shooting him an angry glare from across your shoulder. “what the- hell, satoru? would you just-”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“whatever. I don’t-”

suguru knew him better than anyone. shoko knows him better than anyone. you know him better than anyone.

“utahime? really? i would think that you know me better than that.”

the pout on his face seeped into his voice, and you further struggled in his grip. “things change with time, satoru. you can’t expect me-”

the distance was fine. satoru could do distance. but it was this misunderstanding that made his stomach churn uncomfortably. it was the fact that he seemed so unknown to you. that you seemed so unknown to him. who knew that such a minor misunderstanding would carry so much emotional baggage, invoke such strong reactions from the two of you?

“can’t use that excuse if i’ve always been in love with you.”

you immediately stopped fidgeting, staring at satoru’s serious expression with wide eyes. his pout settled into a deep frown, and you’re absolutely despising the fact that you can’t see his eyes with that stupid new blindfold. stupid time. stupid change.

“i’m in love with you,” he said again with a shrug. “and that never changed.”

silence. all you could do is continue to stare at him as he held your wrist. but then you inhaled sharply and satoru released his grip. you took another deep breath, and then…

“how the hell am I supposed to know something like that? it’s been over ten years, satoru gojo. everything feels different- you look different!- and you expect me to know you’ve been in love with me for how long?”

you ranted all your anger toward him as you jabbed a finger into his chest, while he continued to stare down at you with a frown and his hands now buried in his pockets. his lack of a reaction only added to your frustration, and you still felt as if you were staring at a stranger.

“take off that damn blindfold.”

his mouth drops into a small o for a moment, before he brings a hand to his face. it feels as if an agonizing amount of time passes as satoru slips the blindfold down from his eyes to hang over his neck. his hair falls into that familiar disheveled heap, and you’re immediately met with a familiar rush of anxiety rushing through your veins as you make eye contact with his blue ones.

big and bright, and staring down at you with so much longing. his hand stays on his blindfold, and the frown stays etched into his face, but you can finally see those eyes. the ones that sent a wave of warmth over you when they connected with yours. the ones you found yourself gazing at as you leaned your head against a desk, admiring them from a sideways angle as they glistened in a ray of sunlight. one’s you knew you could rely on, not because they belonged to the strongest or because of the power they held, but because they belonged to your best friend, to the boy that made your heart stutter.

and you’re too emotional finally seeing your satoru gojo to care about the fact that you were now sobbing into satoru’s chest in relief over something familiar, and you cried even harder when his arms wrapped around your frame, head resting sideways into your hair. and you felt stupid for breaking down over something so childish, so minor.

but maybe some things didn’t change and maybe some change was for the better. because you’ve had over ten years to figure yourself out and so did satoru, and with your decision to return home was your decision to return to satoru synonymous with it.

and you felt satoru finally smile a genuine and childish and familiar sort of smile, into your hair, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about how stupid you felt in that moment.

and that final unsorted piece of your life finally stopped nagging at you, as if satoru had exorcised a curse that lingered on your back these past ten years. those confusing and unidentifiable feelings you felt for satoru way back when. together, you’d be able to rebuild your relationship with satoru into the way it used to be all those years ago, not a single detail unknown, so you could put all those insecurities and fear to rest.

#juno answers!#in honour of jjk s2!#title is a hozier reference but not based entirely on the song </3 #ive edited this a thousand times and im STILL not satisfied. will revisit when i have a clearer mind #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo headcanons #satoru gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #gojo angst #gojo fluff

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tw1l1te · 1 month

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼- 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 3

Part 3! We finally get to Wars, Sky, and Wind! WIND IS PLATONIC ONLY DON'T BE GROSS

Warnings: possible suggestive themes (AGAIN NOT FOR WIND), angst, mental health topics, scars/wounds

⋆｡°✩

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖗𝖘

21-22 years old, one of the captain's of the Hylian Army. Zelda offered him a higher rank (general I'm assuming) and a position on the Hylian Council, but he refused almost right away.

Pretty tall, an inch above Twilight, but still shorter than Time

Blonde hair, shaggy but in a fashionable way. Idk y'all, he makes it work

Leaner muscle, double pierced lobes, wears chain linked earrings when at fromal events but usually sticks to his signature blue hoops

Can't read Hylian that well, but can understand/speak several languages, such as Twili (Twi is kinda jealous)

The strategist of the group. He was always under a time limit during the war, so he knows how to handle a tricky situation quickly and efficiently most of the time

Went to school in his developmental years, though was recruited at around 14-15 because he was way better in the fighting field than in academics. It worked out for him though, so he's not complaining.

As much as he cares about appearance and fighting for his country, he hates balls/formal events. The fake interactions and smiles make him sweat and he usually leaves an hour into them. He'll suck it up if you're there with him though

Closest to Time, Wild and Legend ironically enough. Wild and himself can relate on the aspect of being in the Hylian army, and they typically talk about how their experience was. Legend and him mostly bicker, but its all fun n' games. Time and Wars are essentially the higher-ups, though nobody actually says that, its just been silently established.

Super wary of Y/n, especially with his expriences with other dimensions and eras. He was honestly convinced you were part of Cia's plan or the shadow, since your timing seemed a little convenient, but you've gained his trust little by little, maybe a little too much.

Unlike his usual demeanor with women, he doesn't outwardly flirt with our protagonist. Yes, he throws a few quips here and there when appropriate, but he respects Y/n. He doesn't see them as everyone else. He has them on a pedestal towering over everyone

Has scars from the war, duh. He was mostly up close in the front lines, so a lot of slashes and nicks. Has a pretty bad burn on his left arm from Volga's fire, it's healed but still pretty scarred on his skin.

𝖘𝖐𝖞

20-21 years old, the "Chosen One".

Average height, light freckles across his face and shoulders, he was living right under the sun, you can't tell me he doesn't have freckles!!

Also... sleeper build. I said it. He has a sleeper build and boy when Y/n first sees him shirtless?? AWOOGA-

I headcanon him as having a gigantic triforce insignia tattoo all over his upper back. It was part of his ceremonial return, more on that later.

Suprisingly very school smart for falling asleep in class all the time. Sun was and still is very jealous of his natural smarts.

Has his lobes pierced, wears small red hoops. He wants to get more stacked piercings, a loftwing feather to match with Y/n in the future, who knows?

Doesn't have the biggest sweetest tooth, but he does love pastires of almost any kind. Pumpkin ones are his favorites, though Y/n's cinnamon rolls are quickly climbing up the ladder.

One of the most conflicted about Hylia and the whole "following the goddess" thing. He s=has insomnia because of it, causes him a lot of anxiety.

He was very depressed after his journey was finished, as he didn't identify as anything else besides a hero, and since his purpose was completed, he was nobody.

Struggled a lot with isolation and self-deprecation right up until joining the Chain. He still struggles with it, despite it being years later.

After meeting you and learning about your similar struggles of identity and burden's of mental health, he felt so much less lonely. Sure the Chain were his brothers and they knew what he had been through, you really understood him. You went through the same thing, you knew what it felt like.

Close to Hyrule and Four, but probably most attached to Y/n, even before the romantic feelings set in. He's got a big heart.

Biggest sleepyhead. Will sleep almost anywhere, especially if he's exhausted.

Hobbies include woodworking and playing his harp, but recently took up making a piece of jewelry for Y/n. He's been working on it for months, adventuring prevents him from working on it too long. He wants to give it to you during the winter festival, when you're all his.

𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖉

little shit

...

I would say I'm kidding, but he is :3

around 13 I wanna say, it's only been about a year since his adventure.

Short, duh, but his growth spurt is kicking in. He's catching up to Y/n, and you are not excited to be the shortest in a few years.

Sandy blonde hair, a bit wavy. Somehow always has a tiny bit of sand in it, no matter how many times he washes his hair.

If you think Twi or Hyrule had the biggest sweet tooth? HELL NO

If Wind ever found out about energy drinks or soda/pop, we're done for

Not the best in terms of speaking and reading Hylian, though being a pirate has helped him develop his own colorful vocabulary

Very skilled with up close combat, though the others hardly ever let him be on the front offensive

Similar to Wild, likes taking pics of anything (mostly weird faces that the others make)

Y/n and him clicked INSTANTLY. He might've not trusted them immediately, but they were best friends super fast. Wind has helped you get through homesickness by tellng you his own stories about his home.

"Captain" of Tetra's ship, or that's what he believes

Everyone knows Tetra's in charge though

Struggles a bit with alcoholism, being a pirate and all kinda leads you to be reliant on alcohol. The boys are trying to help him with it, but its the main coping skills he uses when after a high stress situation or he's feeling lost mentally.

Everyone sees him as a little brother, despite how much of a little shit he is >:3c

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #final promise au #linked universe headcanons

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weizhiyuan · 4 months

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Some VERY interesting things are happening in the ql world over in Taiwan!! I could’ve sworn someone already made a post about this but I can’t find it now (I might’ve just been recalling when the HIStory account posted about it before though) and now I’m learning some very interesting news I hadn’t seen before so I’m making my own post about it. And also so fellow ql fans can hear abt this too.

So here’s the rundown. Last month there was an event titled “Be Love, Go Love” in which LINE TV & TAICCA announced they would be working on developing more BLs & GLs in Taiwan. They ALSO said they’d be working with people from other countries including the director & producer of semantic error and other important people from Thailand and Korea. Wayne Song was also at the event and said not only that he’d like to work with the director & producer of semantic error, but that he’d be willing to do so without pay/paying out of his own pocket just for a chance to act with her (I love this guy)!

The way this event will work is people will register & submit a bl or gl story to LINE TV X TAICCA in order to develop it into future pitches that are expected to be completed by August 2024. Out of all the submissions they’ll select a total of SIX they’ll be working on developing. Obviously this is all really exciting because we’re not only getting six new qls but they’re going to be collaborating with other significant people in the industry.

Now idk about y’all but I loooove this incorporation of different countries considering they’re the primary ql producers (and maybe Japan too but that’s not one of the countries they’re working with). What I didn’t see before (although it’s literally been up on the page with all the info since they announced this in early November…) are some of the other people they plan on working with. Listed on their website where people can register for this series development plan are:

Tsai Mi Chieh (HIStory2: crossing the line, HIStory3: make our days count, about youth, etc.)

Pepzi Banchorn Vorasataree (bad buddy, dark blue kiss, kinnporsche, the warp effect, etc.)

Bee Pongsate Lucksameepong (2gether, a tale of thousand stars, bad buddy, kinnporsche, love mechanics, vice versa, my school president, last twilight, etc.)

Yuan Wan Thabkrajang (I feel you linger in the air, manner of death, my gear and your gown, etc.)

Hwang Da Seul (where your eyes linger, to my star, blueming, etc.)

And apparently this might not even be everyone???!! So the lineup is already really impressive. It seems like they’ll each have different roles (representatives of their country, consultants, etc.), but all be mentors in some form. I also got especially excited when I saw the HIStory Instagram account post a photo with Cheng Yi Xu who acted in fragrance of the first flower, a Taiwanese gl. What I wanna know is… are my HERstory dreams finally coming true???! PLEASE… regardless, I expect we’re gonna get some super awesome qls in the not-so-distant future from new filmmakers with influence from a hell of a translational mentors group.

#I feel like a news reporter going BREAKING NEWS even though this is technically a few weeks old LOL #I could’ve SWORN I saw a post abt this too but I just could not find it so um if it exists feel free 2 link it to me lol #wayne song #tsai mi chieh #pepzi banchorn #bee pongsate #yuan wan thabkrajang #hwang da seul #I’m not gonna tag all the shows but like this is cool. this is REALLY cool #b.txt

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poohbea · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄.

eren yeager | smut, slight fluff, angst if you squint | aristocrat!au

wordcount: 5.8k

content: upper class shenanigans, softdom!eren, fem!reader, oral (receiving), penetration (missionary and doggy), rough sex, pet names (princess, beautiful, etc.), crying, dick drunk reader, daddy kink, eren is a liiiittle pushy and an asshole (just a tiny bit), both of them holding a very weird hatred for each other (idk how else to describe it), unprotected sex (use protection kids)

― synopsis: being the heir of the biggest company in paradis holds it's challenges but no one prepared you for eren yeager

note from pooh: this turned out to be longer than expected lmao, writing smut after a long time is so hard omg i never know what the hell to say, hopefully it's not that obvious. i'm not too happy with it but i'm so over re-writing it at this point hahaha.

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Oh don’t look so glum,” your mother chastised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Enjoy yourself my love.” Her diamond earrings glistened in the warm candle light cascading from the chandeliers of the grand ballroom. She was an angelic vision in her lilac dusted gown, the same diamonds as the ones in her ears speckled through the fine fabric like dew on flower petals.

You sighed, sipping from your recently refilled glass of white wine. “Easier said than done.” Your gaze moved with the dancing crowd below you, dots of assorted colours and jewellery, black, white, green, pink. You hadn’t seen him yet.

She chuckled at your seriousness. “Do you really think hiding yourself away up in the balcony is going to solve your problems?”

Yes. “What else am I supposed to do?” You sent her a questioning side glance.

“Oh I don’t know… go down there? Dance? Mingle? God forbid you have fun.” She positions herself at your side against the bannister, dress brushing against your own.

Silently you leaned your head on her shoulder, a scent of vanilla and roses floating from her skin. “Is he here?” You whispered as you played with the delicate lace on your sleeves.

“He is.” She replied solemnly, resting her head on top of yours.

Your heart sank as her words solidified your anxiety. Of course he was here, how could he not be?

The man in question was one Eren Yeager, son of Lord Grisha and Lady Carla of Maria. A man who had been a thorn in your side since you were children. Lord Grisha generated his wealth from his medical practices littered across the country, this was valuable to your family, valuable enough to do business with.

Your parents thought it a good idea for you and Eren to become acquainted, being about the same age, maybe something would blossom. Though the only thing that did blossom was the growing hatred between you both. You somehow were always getting on each other’s nerves, so much so that you began to despise him. It started with small childish things, hair pulling, petty fights over trivial topics like who got to have the last of everything, but when you hit adolescence he made it a point to make a snarky comment no matter what you were doing.

“What the hell happened to your face?” He’d scowled at you one afternoon while you lay idly in the grass reading a book. It just so happened to be the same day your mother decided you were old enough to start wearing makeup.

You threw him an irritated look. “It’s makeup.”

“Your mother let you leave the house looking like that?” His shadow covers your face as he leans over you curiously, running a finger along your cheek.

“Piss off Eren!” He laughs as you throw your book at his face, easily dodging the hardback.

It was even worse as you came of age to actually date. He somehow managed to wriggle his way in and meddle with all your potential suitors, spreading rumours, interrupting dances and private conversations. There was a time everyone believed you’d slept with all of your father’s business partners, of course it wasn’t true but that didn’t stop your parents from losing their minds over the allegations. Your reputation was an important one, it was make or break in this dog-eat-dog world you were born into. You never really did find out who or where that rumor came from, but you had a funny feeling Eren had something to do with it.

“Maybe he’ll behave himself now that he’s in public.” Your mother continued.

“Fine I’ll go, but if he says anything out of turn...” You looked to her, finding no trace of disapproval, just her soft features watching the sway of dresses below.

“You’ll be fine.” She shifts to stand upright again before kissing your temple. “What’s the worst that could happen?” She smiles, disappearing through the curtain draped over the entryway of the balcony.

Sighing, you down the last of your wine and readjust the bust of your dress, smoothing over the lace that hung off your shoulders, dress twinkling in the light like stars at dusk. With a deep breath you found your way to the staircase that led onto the ballroom floor, hesitating at the top as you watched a parade of colour flutter by. You had yet to see Yeager, you reassured yourself. And hopefully you’d go the whole night without the misfortune of running into him. As you began your descent your mother’s words echoed through your mind one last time.

What was the worst that could happen?

Foreign and familiar faces welcomed you with curtseys and bows of reverence while you walked through the crowd, head held high and a bright smile on your face, greeting your family’s many business partners.

Being the heir to one of the largest companies in all of Paradis held a lot of responsibility, the primary one, being the picturesque daughter your father sought you out to be. Proper, intelligent and scandal-free. Something that was already hard to do in a sea of people who fed off of gossip.

“Lady y/n.” A kindly voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Could I interest you in a dance?” Jean Kirstein - the newest addition to your fathers growing list of associates- greeted you coyly with a hand outstretched in invitation.

You gave a half-smile “Of course.”

He was a handsome man to say the least, with tousled blond hair and a smile that had butterflies churning in your stomach. His suit was a classic black and white three piece, a teal tie bringing a pop of colour that complimented his alluring hazel eyes.

With one hand in yours and the other securely on your waist, he whisked you out onto the dance floor, taking the lead as he began moving you in time with the music. His gentle gaze never left yours as you floated across the floor effortlessly, touch warm against your hips that he guided in a rhythm that met his own.

“You’re quite good at this aren’t you?” Your playful expression made him chuckle.

“Of course my lady,” he replied, spinning you before continuing. “I had to make a good first impression didn’t I?”

The tempo rose with the changing routine and it was time to switch partners. He laid a soft kiss on your hand before releasing you in another spin, a laugh bubbling in your chest as you landed in the arms of your next partner.

“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself my lady,” your smile faltered as you looked up to see the face of the man you’d so desperately tried to avoid all night. “Don’t look so upset, frowning was never a good look on you?” A smirk hung on his lips as he towered over your smaller frame, loose hairs framing his face as he pinned you with mischievous eyes.

“What are you doing here, Eren?” You spat, feeling your skin tingle where his touch slowly made its way down the small of your back.

A huff left his chest. “I was sent an invitation? Why were you hoping I wouldn’t come?”

“Yes,” you retort. “I was hoping for a night of peace.”

He extended an arm and spun you in place, then roughly pulled you back into his chest. “You and I both know that’s never going to happen.” There was a knowing undertone in his voice, a tone that you knew always held bad intentions.

“Why must you always ruin my night?” You carped, trying your best to maintain your composure. There were too many important people around for you to make a scene and not face the consequences, but the longer he spoke the closer he was to pushing you there.

He dipped you low and your gaze caught Jean’s, who smiled at you softly while dancing with a woman in red. How you yearned to be back in his arms again.

“So you and Kirstein? What’s that about?” Eren nodded to the man in question as he brought you back up again. Your breath nearly left you with how close his lips were to your own, too distracted by that fact you didn’t even register his question.

“What?” Your brows furrowed at him as you took a step back to put some distance between you.

He met you with an icy expression. “Are you and Jean...an item?” He pressed, voice faltering at the end as if it pained him to even say those words. Why did he care?

“No, he’s an associate of my father’s, why does it matter?” You answered honestly, unconsciously moving your hand from his shoulder to his chest, running your index finger over the key shaped pin on his jacket collar.

“You seem awfully fond of someone who cleans horse shit for a living.” You catch him glance over his shoulder to where you could only assume Jean stood, not missing the irritation in his voice.

“He does not,” your hand smacks his chest. “He runs the biggest transport company in the country, horses are just one of his divisions.”

Eren rolls his eyes at your defensiveness. “Oh so you do like him. I didn’t know you enjoyed the smell of horse shi-”

The song comes to an end and you break away from him before you do something you’d regret. You opened your mouth and closed it again, fists balling at your side as everything you ever wanted to say became stuck in your throat. For all the belittling, the mocking and the embarrassment, you wanted to let him have it, but something held you back. Your tongue was stiff as he watched you with an inscrutable expression, waiting for you to break.

Instead your face softens, an equally unreadable expression etched upon your features. “Thank you for the dance Eren, good evening.” You said simply, giving a final curtsey before turning your back to him, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

With a hastened pace you pushed your way through the sea of guests, odd looks cast your way as you haphazardly bumped into a server holding champagne, making you lose your balance. The glasses clattered to the floor with a loud shatter, most of it spilling on your dress in the commotion as you landed on your hands and knees in the liquid. The crowd around you gasped and sneered, encircling your distressed figure on the floor, apologetic and frantically searching for an exit. You saw Eren among them, a taunting glint in his eyes, as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. Beneath him.

You were mortified.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Jean’s voice broke your fixed gaze. The man knelt down to help you up, but to his surprise you tore your hand from his, offered him a pained smile and curtsied half-heartedly.

“Excuse me.” You choked before speeding up the staircase, uncaring of the array of murmurs and snickers that followed your abrupt and dramatic exit.

This was his fault, Eren fucking Yeager. You cursed as your feet blistered in the tall heels you’d been wearing the whole night, reduced to hobbling down the long hallway, body sticky and damp from alcohol. This was the worst that could happen, you thought. As if being ridiculed wasn’t enough he had to go and add insult to injury with his stupid fucking face mocking you from the crowd.

Was this his plan? To rile you up so much that you’d slip up in front of everyone that was important to you? To your family?

“Fucking Yeager!” You growl, stepping into your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You began pulling pins from your hair tossing them onto your vanity in frustration, strands falling over your shoulders as you kicked off your shoes in the process. You were done with this evening, with everyone and everything associated with it.

As you finally tore the last pin from your now disheveled curls you heard a knock at your door. “I’m not accepting guests at this time!” You called out, frustrated with the ties on your dress. There was silence, then another knock. “Go away!” A string of curses fall from your lips as your fingers continue to slip against the silky fabric. “This couldn’t possibly get any worse.” You sigh. Then you heard your door open. “I said go away-!”

The source of your fury stood leant against the door frame, an arrogant aura emanating from his figure as he watched you struggle to undress. “How unladylike-”

The shoes you had discarded on the floor found their way into your hands and you aimed for his head, disappointed when he narrowly dodges the object. “Get out!” You glowered at him, other shoe in hand ready to throw.

He gave you an incredulous look, smoothing the loose strands on his forehead displaced due to evading your attack. “Are you insane?!” He shouts, picking up the shoe you’d just tossed at his face.

You threw the other shoe, this time at his groin, to which again he narrowly dodged. “Have you not had enough of making a fool of me today? You had to come up here to see your work first hand?” You’d given up on your calm façade, letting your emotions spill as you saw fit in the privacy of your room.

“You’re blaming me for that disaster?” He brayed, both of your shoes now in his palms.

“Of course this is your fault!” You spat callously. “The constant degrading, the fucking agony you put me through every event. You love to humiliate me every chance you get! And for what? Your own twisted sense of humour?” Your chest heaved as you found yourself mere inches from him, breast almost against his in your fit of rage, defeated tears spilling down your flushed cheeks.

You hated to cry, especially in front of Eren but at this point you couldn’t think of anything else to do. The pained attempt to stop the tears from falling ended in hundred more flooding out, you couldn’t bottle it all up anymore, not this time.

Silence filled the room, save your shallow shaky breaths and his deep ones. His face was once again unreadable, eyes scouring yours, for what, you didn’t know. Abandoning your shoes on the floor, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair that curled at your collarbone, grazing the skin there as his now softened gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your watery-eyed glare. The touch set goosebumps upon your skin as he continued up your neck to your jaw, wiping a thumb over your tear stained cheek.

“Let me make it better.” He breathed onto your lips, pleading eyes piercing into yours. His thumb traced your bottom lip tenderly, time slowing as his own met yours. He walked you backward further into your bedroom by your hips, closing the door behind him with an audible sound that reverberated off the hinges. His hand shifted to caress the back of your neck, pulling you into him further to deepen the kiss, moulding against your lips as he used his other hand to loosen the knot in the ties of your dress.

When the back of your knees hit your bed you parted, out of breath and thinking a bit clearly. “Eren,” you sighed, forehead against his as your breathing fell in time with one another. “Please, we-” He places a kiss on your cheek, turning you around to have better access to the back of your dress.

“Shh.” He whispers. His fingers pry the ties free and from their loops and he watches your body visibly relax, finally released from the confines of the material. Softly he pulls the fabric from your arms and down your waist till it became a pool of colour on the carpeted floor. His jacket and tie join it as he flicked the first few buttons of his shirt open to expose the tanned expanse of his chest.

You felt oddly vulnerable in your underwear, even if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you this way, his gaze still painted a flush upon your skin. Instinctually your arms came up to cover your bare chest, breasts almost spilling from between them.

He chuckles, neck lowering to plant a kiss on your shoulder as he smooths a hand over your stomach. “I’ve seen you like this plenty of times but you still hide from me.”

His fingers played with the waistband of your panties mindlessly, lips continuing their way up your shoulder. The heat of his touch has your mind going fuzzy, losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over your skin, familiar with every mark, every crevasse, every curve your body had to offer. Your lips part in a gasp as he bites into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

He turns you back around to face him, pushing you onto the mattress softly. His hips nestle between your thighs as his body envelops yours, pressing his hard-on against your clothed pussy.

“Eren.” With a sigh your hips squirm beneath his, attempting to ease the arousal rapidly pooling at your core.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You lose your voice at the way his mouth paths down your collarbone, laving marks into the depths of your skin. His hands find yours still covering your chest and pries them away, entwining your fingers to pin your hands above your head. Beneath his intense gaze the flush on your skin deepened, struggling to keep still while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Y/n.” He whispers mindlessly against your skin. Before you could answer him a gasp caught in your throat as his tongue encircled your nipple. He released your hands to cup your tits, rolling the other bud between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep them there.”

Your back arched unconsciously, rubbing yourself against his cock — still uncomfortably strained against the zipper of his trousers — causing a deep groan to sound from his throat, the sound alone making your clit throb.

“Fuck, Eren.” Digging your nails into your palms you struggled to keep them above your head, as you whined. It was embarrassing the amount of power he had over you, the way a simple flick of his tongue birthed an impossible ache between your thighs. After doing this with him for this long you’d think it’d have worn off by now.

“That’s it beautiful, say my name.” He coos, continuing his assault down to your thighs. His fingers curl around your panties and guide them down your legs, letting it join your dress on the floor.

A breathy moan escaped you as he wastes no time drawing a long strip from your entrance to your clit, moaning at the way your arousal danced on his tongue. Pushing your thighs apart he did it again, dipping his tongue into you this time to gage your reaction.

Those sweet sounds he craved for weeks finally fell freely from your lips, like music to his ears. He drank in every gasp and every whimper as your head lulled back and your back arched, still obeying his instruction as your fingers dug into the bedsheets.

His cock twitched as you began rocking your hips into his face, matching the pace of his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt. How did he always end up here? Back in this position, on his knees, between your legs, savouring the way you tasted like it was the last time he’d ever get to experience it. How tightly did you have him wound around your finger? Pretty damn tight apparently. As much as he tried to deny it, push you away with insults, humiliation and bickering he always found himself here, worshipping your pussy.

He hated you for it.

“’Ren, please. Please, please, please, fuck.” Your thighs strained against his hold, trembling as you continued fucking his face.

Fuck, he could listen to you beg forever. “What do you want princess?” He asked in a husky tone, planting tender a kiss on your inner thigh. His eyes were glazed over, a deeper green than they were on the dancefloor. Fingertips ghosted your entrance as he waited for your reply, his breath on your clit making you clench around nothing.

“I need you... I need you inside me, please.” You panted desperately.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as you open your legs wider for him. “Look how wet you are.” The way your arousal dripped down your ass and onto the sheets made his mouth water, the view never got old. Reluctantly pulling away from you he finally rids himself of his clothes, sighing softly as he finally frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

The sight had your mind reeling. He reminded you of an art piece, like marble where the finest detail was carved to perfection. His skin glowed in the candle light, glistening in a thin veil of sweat with your arousal still on his lips — rosy and plush. Muscles pulsed as he reached behind his head to pull the band in his hair, freeing a cascade of long dark hair onto his back and shoulders.

He hovers over you, lips ghosting yours as he guides his cock through your folds with a hiss. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d hope so.” You reply with a cheeky grin, laying a kiss on his chin.

You yelp as his hand slaps your ass harshly, the sound reverberating off the walls. There was a handprint now burning red on your ass. “What was that for?” You hiss, trying to move your hips away but find them pinned to the mattress under his weight.

He bites your neck in reply. “For being rude.”

“Oh, piss off.” He raises a warning brow as you roll your eyes.

Again he smacks your ass as punishment, this time harder in the same place. “Do that one more time, see what happens.”

The sting of your ass seemed to have clouded your judgement as you proceeded to take him up on that challenge. “Fuck yo-!”

Before you could finish your rebuttal he shoves his cock into you without warning, completely filling you to the hilt. Your hands find his shoulders instinctively, embedding crescent shaped marks into his skin. The sound you made was a mix between a gasp and a moan, both in shock and pleasure at the sudden intrusion.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Eren chuckles beside your ear, smirk evident in his tone.

A shaky breath leaves your chest. “I hate you.” You grumble in reply, the words coming out breathier than intended.

He shifts to rest his forehead against yours, a shit-eating grin still on his face. “If you hate me so much…” The pause is met with a harsh thrust of his hips, sending another moan tumbling from your lips. “Then why am I the only one that’s able to have you like this?” Your breath hicks as he repeats the same action, nose brushing his as he moved.

You didn’t have a real answer, it’s not like you didn’t seek sex from other partners, you did, but none of them could compare to the man before you. There was something comforting in how he knew your body inside and out, your expressions, the way your skin flushed under his touch, every moan and stutter. You trusted him with your body as he did you with his, but in doing so it fed into an addiction, one that could only be satisfied by Eren.

“Who said you were the only one?” You teased back.

His breath hit your nose as he huffed out a laugh. “No one can make you feel the way I do. Admit it.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Anyone can do what you do, you’re not special.”

“Oh really?” His cock twitches inside of you, hips moving at an agonisingly slow pace. “Like who?”

“O-others, why do you need to know?” You stutter out, unable to draw a realistic name from the top of your head.

“I’d like to know who my competition is. That is if they even exist.” Your skin tingles as his nose traces the curve on your cheek. Eren knew exactly what that stutter meant. You were a liar. But that didn’t make going along with it any less entertaining.

“Of course they exis- fuck!” Pleasure overwhelms you as he hits a familiar spot, fingers playing with your clit as he continued his strokes.

“Mmm.” He groans against your cheek. “You know how much I hate lies, y/n.” His pace doesn’t let up as he speaks, fingers and cock moving in time with one another, a sweet harmony that had you struggling to maintain your fragile composure.

“I’m not-”

Spank.

“Stop lying to me sweetheart,” he warns again, upping the pressure on your clit. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You could barely think, let alone speak as he continued his ministrations. Your pussy was a sopping mess, so much so that the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking his cock was audible with every delicious stroke.

Your breath fanned against his neck, hot and fast between moans and whines. The longer this went on the quicker your resolve dissipated and soon you were at his mercy. “You ‘Ren, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?” He smiles, leaning his ear to your lips. “Say it again I don’t think I heard you.”

“Fuck, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this ‘Ren.” You repeat begrudgingly between breaths.

“Good girl.” With a kiss to your cheek he leans back on his heels, letting his cock slip out of you. “Turn over for me.”

Obediently you flip over on your hands and knees, chest brushing the mattress as you position your ass in the air. You feel him move over you, watching as he retrieves two pillows at the head of the bed to place under your hips, to which you happily lay on.

His hands slip themselves into the crease where your hips met your thighs, memorising the way your back arched in this position. He proceeds to run his thumbs over the small of your back, parallel to your spine before his grip tightens slightly and he’s pushing your hips into the pillows. Slowly he eases into you, moaning at the way your pussy engulfed him eagerly, tightening as inch by inch he drew deeper.

"Holy fuck, ‘Ren!” You cry, nails clawing the sheets. It was like he was in your stomach, if that was even possible.

His tongue paths its way up your spine, leaving spaced open mouth kisses on your skin till he reaches your ear. “Does that feel good princess?”

You could only moan in response, heavy breaths wafting your hair that had fallen over your face. He wasn’t even moving but he still managed to turn your brain to mush.

With a chuckle he pecks your shoulder. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His hips shift slightly, drawing a string of whines from your throat. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm.” The weight of his body leaves yours as he sits back up, pausing to give your ass a squeeze. “And what if I move like this?” His hips draw back slowly before pushing back into you with a force that almost knocked the breath out of you. “That feel good too, baby?”

“Yes, fuck it feels so good, daddy.”

That was all the confirmation he needed to let go and fuck you into the bed the way he knew you loved. Hard and rough. Using your back as leverage he pressed into your skin, grip tight around your waist as he watched your ass ripple with every slap of his hips against your own.

You were so damn intoxicating it wasn’t even a joke anymore. There were days he’d actually miss this, miss you. Your face, your scent, your taste, how your pussy felt as it squeezed him at every inch, it was like you were made for him and vice versa. He’d never actually tell you any of that though.

This wasn’t love. It was sex, reoccurring mind blowing sex. Or so he continued to tell himself.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes!” By the way your toes curled he knew he was hitting that sweet spot along your walls. Satisfaction swelled in his chest at your cock drunk form scrunching the sheets between your fingers, losing your voice in the pleasure surging through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Cooing, he slows his pace to pin your hands behind your back, trapping your wrists in one hand and using the other to play with your clit. “You love this dick don’t you?”

Mindlessly you reply. “Yes daddy, so deep in my pussy.” At this point you would say anything, do anything if he asked you to. With the way his dick kissed that spot inside you over and over it was hard not to lose yourself, to let your eyes roll back and just take it.

“You feel so good princess, fuck you take me so well.” He looks down to where your bodies met, almost cumming at the sight of you creaming all over his cock. Your nails were digging into the back of his hand that still pinned your hands to the small of your back, grip tightening as your thighs tensed.

“I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine with a hick.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over this dick.” He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer as you grew tighter with each passing stroke, but he needed you to cum first, he needed to watch you come undone on his cock.

“Eren!” You hold onto his hand for dear life as you fall over the edge, your whole body tightening as Eren fucks you through your orgasm, fingers still softly caressing your clit.

“Good girl, that’s it.” He praises, out of breath, soon following with his own high. White hot ropes of cum painted your insides as a variation of your name fell from his lips in an incoherent mess. Normally he’d never be caught dead cumming inside if it was any one else but because it was you he bent that rule.

You groan softly as your body grew heavy, sinking into the soft mattress. Almost ready to pass out then and there you feel Eren shuffle behind you, moaning as his cock slides against your walls, slowly drawing from your warmth.

He falls onto his back beside you with a sigh. “Come here.”

“Mmm.” You groan, still fucked out and limp with flattened pillows under your hips probably damp with his cum as you felt it leak from your hole.

He clicks his tongue and pulls you forward effortlessly by your arm, cradling you in his side. There was a long silence as you both lay there listening to the rhythm of each others breaths, content in the comfort you had both built after months of this routine.

When all this first began you refused to even look at each other after the fact, getting dressed and leaving the room immediately. But one drunken night when you woke up to find him still there beside you, arm around your waist and pulled into his chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. It soon became normal for you to lay like this, naked and vulnerable, listening to his heart beat.

“You okay?” He questions, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Tired.” You sigh softly. Your fingers traced the grooves of his chest, circling his pectoral mindlessly.

He exhales heavily. “Feel better?”

With a chuckle you trail your finger down his abdomen. “A little.”

The look he throws you has your smile grow wider. “Only a little?” He turns on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Still lying to me.”

“Gonna have to try a little harder than that, Yeager.” Teasingly you tap his nose, laughing at the way he frowns at your simple gesture.

He caresses your face with his free hand, running a thumb over your rosy lips. “You really think I don’t know you after all these years?” The question was longing, like he was reminiscing every encounter you two ever had.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention after all these years.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“I’m observant.”

“You’re a nuisance.” You corrected, but despite your insult the smile never left your face.

“You love me.” The rebuttal caught you off guard, unsure if he was joking or not as his tone remained serious.

“Are you drunk, Yeager? Why would I ever love you?”

His face draws toward yours knowingly. “You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

“I-I could say the same for you.” You deflect, gesturing to his figure.

Did he really want to admit his feelings for you, after having pushed them down for so long? Did he even have feelings for you? When he saw you on the dancefloor for the first time tonight his stomach erupted in a flutter of butterflies. Not to mention when he watched the way you smiled and laughed with Jean. Who the fuck was he anyway? Some corporate kiss-ass who shovelled shit for a living. Transport, what was Jean’s transport company compared to the medical empire Eren was managing? Is that what impressed you? What you liked? He followed the way Jean’s hands glided along your body, like he knew where to touch you, how to make you…

“Eren.” Your soft voice breaks him from deep thought. You look at him with those eyes you do, the ones that somehow manage to break his resolve every time.

“Let’s get you to a bath.” He smiles at you sadly, laying a kiss on your forehead and getting up from the bed. His fingers rake through dishevelled hair before offering you an outstretched hand.

You witnessed the way his green eyes dulled as they bore into yours sullenly. His expression was placid, unreadable as it always was when he decided to shut you out, an action you’d become all too familiar with as you came back to the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to question him on it you take his hand. “Lead the way.”

PART TWO

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