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#was talking with a friend a while back about how being caught in the rain with someone is a weird form of intimacy
necroticguts · 2 days ago
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Man those two asks about Jordan and Avery seeing PC with Eden makes me wonder how the school trio (well it’s four now with Sydney) would react upon seeing a pregnant PC with Eden after months of hearing nothing from them
Jordan here, Avery here.
I'll do these in the context of them having feelings for the PC, but not getting to the confession stage. NTR sucks.
Kylar
Is going to watch from afar, shaking with jealousy and in absolute agony. You're not meant to have fallen for someone else.
You have to have been forced into it - it's okay, Kylar will help you. Somehow.
Will try to follow you back to Eden's but will be caught by the hunter and likely hurt for trying to take you away.
Makes plans to dart you and the hunter so you're easier to kidnap, but then considers the baby.
Even if it isn't theirs, they'll raise it, for you. So they can't risk hurting it.
So they'll dart Eden and try to convince you to come with them. If you say no, they'll shakily hold their knife to your throat and try to threaten you.
Best hope is to distract them until Eden wakes back up. What happens to Kylar then is not pretty.
If you say yes, Eden will hunt you down and try to get you back. Not only are you his, but you're carrying his child. You can't get away simply.
Robin
Let's be real, Robin isn't going to do anything.
They'd most likely be traumatised without you around to pay their debt, and at low confidence.
So they'd probably stutter out a congrats and run off to cry in their room back at the orphanage.
But Robin is the most likely to pick up on if you're giving them looks that mean "help me". They've known you the longest, afterall.
But they'll have no clue how to help you, that's the thing. Telling Bailey will get you hurt, as you haven't paid them in months.
Not to mention what the caretaker would do to your child.
Looks like you're stuck with Eden afterall.
Sydney
Pure Sydney, similarly to Robin, won't be able to do more than politely tell you they're happy for you, even when they're falling apart inside.
Since you have to be with Sydney for them to be fully corrupt, I'll say Sydney is in a neutral phase otherwise.
A chance that they may remark on how they wanted to gave kids with you if neutral (leaning towards corrupt and about to confess to you). In front of Eden. Who will get mad over it.
But if they pick up you being uncomfortable, flinching when Eden moves too quickly, they'll say "Come by the temple some time! Maybe talk to Jordan about having the child baptised."
The look they give you when they say it is one that implies they'll be waiting there to help you should you need a place to escape.
Whitney
Whitney isn't jealous. They aren't! They fucking hate kids, they wouldn't want to be that tall dude any day of the week.
Yet they still lash out if they're with their friends.
Whitney will come up to you, giggling cronies in tow, stating that you're such a slut that you got knocked up by some dude. Actually, is it even his or are you just telling him that?
If you don't want Eden throwing hands you'll have to jump in the way and insist on going home. Afterall, Whitney isn't alone, and while they usually fight alone there's no guarantee.
As you're calming the hunter down, Whitney will sneer out that they don't want damaged goods anyways, before leaving.
If they're alone, you'll catch them glaring at you from a few metres away, but they won't approach.
Either way they'll stand lonely in the park, wishing you were there with them when it rains.
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screnwriter-old-i-moved · 5 months ago
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a shit ton of angsty prompts
kissing your lover’s forehead as they’re dying in your arms
being forced to watch the love of your life move on with someone else, you’ve gathered enough courage to tell them you want to be with them, only to catch them holding hands with someone else 
our family won’t approve of our relationship but we have to stick together, until one day you question if the relationship is even worth all this secrecy and i can’t believe that you’d doubt us even for a second
i’m finally ready to be with you, but you’ve finally moved on from me, and i’m too late
we can’t be together but let’s make the most of the night before we have to go our separate ways, maybe watch the stars as we talk about how we would have gotten married, how many kids we would have had, if the odds had been in our favor
coming home to find your lover cheating on you, throwing all their things out the window and cursing them out of your life, wondering how they could do this to you ‘’you can’t claim to love someone, and then go and do what you just did.’’ 
being forced to kill your lover, because only one of you are going to survive, and your lover insists they couldn’t live in this life without you ‘’just promise me you’ll be happy. promise me you will be.’’ 
it’s been months since we broke up and i just found one of your old sweatshirts in my wardrobe and it’s making me miss you 
we haven’t seen each other in years but reunite at a mutual friend’s wedding, things ended badly between us and we both know it’s better to avoid each other but of course we’re seated at the same table, opposite each other 
we’re broken up, you’re over at my house to pick some of your stuff up, and neither of us know how to act, so i just let you inside, you grab your things, and leave as quickly as you came
you’re over at my house to pick some of your stuff up, and as you load the last of your things into your car, you head back to my front door to say goodbye, and somehow... we wind up in bed 
being forced to kill your lover, but you can’t do it, so they take your hand, and help you press the knife into their chest, while the antagonist watches your every move, making sure neither of you try to run 
having to watch your lover die, as you’re restrained by the antagonist, unable to fight your way out of their grip, yet your eyes are glued on your lover’s 
having to say goodbye to your lover, who’s moving across the world, kissing them goodbye one last time before they board the plane. during your last kiss, your lover says they didn’t think you would make it to the airport but ‘’i couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye.’’ 
two character’s dying together, laying outside in the cold, rain, holding hands 
a love triangle in which, lover #2 recognizes how toxic lover #1 is for the main character ‘’one of you will end up killing the other. whether that’s physically or emotionally, one of you will end up killing the other. there’s no dimension in this world where the two of you end up happy.’’
accidentally catching your ex or the person you’re in love with getting frisky with someone else, and having to pretend like it doesn’t bother you
going to your lover’s house to apologize for something you did, but instead of being let in, you get the door slammed in your face ‘‘why are you here?’‘ ‘‘i’m here because i love you, and because i want to make things right.’‘ ‘‘well, i don’t want you here, so go away.’‘
one character, with trust issues, gets drunk one night and spills how insecure they are in the relationship ‘’you don’t. you don’t love me. you only love me when it’s beneficial.’’ or the partner is caught cheating and the character drops those words
your lover telling you that they don’t love you anymore, or that they’ve found someone else, and as you pack your things, you find a photo of the two of you together, from a time when you were happily in love
unrequited love, in which i just poured my heart out to you, telling you i love you and you said that you don’t feel the same way, and then you leave, and i’m standing here, not sure what to do, i can’t even cry that’s how shocked and heartbroken i am
‘‘you’re the worst thing that has ever happened to me. no, listen to me. you’ve destroyed me.’‘ 
a break up in which, one person doesn’t have any feelings for the other anymore, while the other one is still head over heels in love with them ‘’but that doesn’t mean that our love wasn’t real. doesn’t mean that you didn’t love me enough, or that you weren’t loved. you were. you’ll always be.’’ ‘’just not in the way i love you.’’ ‘’no.’’ 
promising your lover that you’ll make it home in time for your anniversary, but something comes up and you’re late, which screws up all your plans for the evening, and instead of celebrating your anniversary, your lover goes to bed, and barely utters one word to you the next morning
it’s toxic, and we’re not good for each other, and ‘’i love you so much it’s killing me.’’
begging your lover to open the door so you can talk things through ‘’i know you’re in there. [character], please, open up.’’ but as they won’t, ‘’at least let me say goodbye.’’ 
a character using their last bit of strength to kiss you goodbye, before they close their eyes for the last time 
two characters are about to kiss, but pulls away last second when one character says ‘’this isn’t right.’’ and the other replies with ‘’you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.’’ 
‘’you said you wouldn’t break my heart, and then that’s exactly what you did.’’ 
‘’i don’t want to listen to a single word coming out of your mouth.’’
‘‘we can’t be together. it’s too dangerous. you understand that, right?’‘
i might make a part two
update: part two can be found here
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duskamethyst · 9 months ago
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mistakes.
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a/n: totally for self indulgence... don’t know how is this gonna do though since i’m not sure if a lot of people has caught up with the manga but i’m pretty sure the fandom has seen him at least once and instantly thirst for him. so, idk what colour his eyes are (i can see blue but fanwiki says green so i stuck with that and in between). this comes with a package of me pointing out how big and buff he is and idc if you’ll get annoyed over it.
word count: 6.1k
genre: AU, nsfw, smut, angst if you squint
warnings: DARK – NONCON, coercion, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, choking, mind break, breeding, face fucking, slight dacryphilia, spitting, age gap, degradation, virgin reader, dilf toji manhandling reader
pairing: toji x f!reader
languages available: vietnamese.
summary: you want to surprise your bestie, megumi upon his arrival home from college but things take a terrible turn.
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one.
heavy rain starts pouring as soon as you’ve reached the front doorstep of the fushiguro’s household. it was a dumb idea to not bring an umbrella with you despite the sky already starting to get dark when you left home earlier, but you were willing to push your luck and started sprinting once you felt prickles of droplets landing on your skin. with a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the heavy downpour from soaking your clothes.
drawing a deep and relieved sigh, you take a moment to regain control over your breathing before knocking the big front door. aware of the aftermath of the run, you fix your hair with your hands as you wait for megumi to come and greet you. 
college made you and the male to part ways until phones were the only thing that kept you both up to date with each other’s lives. ironically enough, that’s the thing you forgot to bring when you left home in a rush and excitement to surprise your dear friend since he’s coming home today. you can vividly remember the last text you read; he was at the train station and you had to estimate the time of his arrival and the time he would be at home instead of asking him.
however, you’re caught slightly off guard when a different man opens the door for you instead. nonetheless, your lips curl to a sweet smile and there’s a brief of awkward silence before he speaks. you know him, but he doesn’t seem to remember you at all.
“you’re..?” with a tilt of his head, he looks down at you with a curious brow. 
“it’s me, mr. fushiguro!” you offer your name, scrutinizing the expression on his face as his forehead crinkles while he jogs through his memories. then he glances at you and away in thought and back at you again with wide eyes when he finally recalls.
“oh, it’s you!” he ruffles your hair, a bit too enthusiastic in spite of his usual character that you were always familiar with. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”
you let out a little laugh, “yeah. i think i was fourteen the last time i saw you, mr. fushiguro. but it’s nice to see you again.”
“ah, yes. i had to go out of town and overseas for business a lot.” toji explains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly bashful that he didn’t recognize the girl– no, woman before him even when you both have met plenty of times back when you often came to play with his son since you both were still little. 
but can anyone blame him? time works wonders and now the little girl he used to know has grown to be much more mature and gorgeous and so... demure.
“yeah, megumi told me. speaking of him, is he home?” you finally inquire, bringing up the reason why you’re here in the first place. 
two.
“why don’t you come in first? it’s cold outside.” he says before immediately turning around without answering your question. you close the door behind you and follow him closely, also somewhat intimidated when you realize how tall and huge he is– the tight fitting shirt stretches over his wide back and accentuating his physique even more. his arms are toned and popping with veins, not the way you used to remember at least, but you’ve never cared to notice. you’re not certain of his age either, but you’re pretty sure you’d be surprised if you find out.
“do you want coffee or tea?” toji suddenly breaks the silence as you nervously stand in the middle of the room to take a glimpse around the kitchen like it’s your first time being there, completely heedless over his gaze lingering up and down your curves, observing the figure of a girl who just freshly went through her womanhood and your lascivious beauty before he quickly turns around to grab two mugs from the cabinet. 
“anything is fine.” you politely reply, fear of sounding somewhat demanding if you choose your preference despite being offered with choices. 
“come on, you’re giving a man a hard time.” he jokes. “and sit down.”
he’s trying to extend his invitation though intentionally sounding assertive, but when he sees that you are quick to comply and scramble to your seat, he finds it to be... stimulating. at least he knows that you’re docile and he wonders if he could put it to the test. well, doesn’t matter. he will.
“coffee is good.” you smile, interrupting his train of thoughts and he pours the coffee from the pot before walking over to hand you your mug. 
“unfortunately,” he sits down on the chair next to you. “megumi isn’t home right now.” toji puts his lips between the warm mug and softly blows before sipping his coffee. “he wanted to take a short trip to the store but i think he’s going to be stuck there for a while.” he looks out the window to only see pitch black staring back at him along with roaring thunder from the skies.
“oh.” you mutter, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. a little disappointed that you couldn’t see megumi yet, but his dad is right– it’s nearly a disaster outside but you find no point hanging around any longer either.
“is it too bitter? you don’t like it?” his voice laces with concern when he notices your face involuntarily scrunches up at the bitter taste. 
you quickly shake your head, “no, no. it’s fine!” you reassure, afraid that he’ll take offense from the coffee he personally made. “besides, if megumi isn’t here, i–”
three.
“oh, it’s fine if you wait here for him.” he cuts you off. “unfortunately, we don’t have an extra umbrella.” the corners of his lips tug into a comforting smile and you are quick to relax into it. 
you’ve always found toji to be quite frightening when you were young. he seemed like someone who never smiled, always had a sombre and intense vibe to him that no child would be too fond of.  there was no exchange of words between you two, except for your constant brief hello and a smile that you did out of courtesy whenever you bump into him inside his house, even though he never replied anything back. not even a crack on the lips to return the smile. 
but today is different. probably because he finds it easier for him to talk to an adult than a child and you’re relieved that you’re able to humor him in some way.
“so, are you and megumi a thing?” he abruptly asks and glances at you as he sips his coffee.
“no, we’re not!” you titter, waving a hand in dismissal as you bring up the mug to hide your face from embarrassment.
“oh?” a glint of amusement and surprise shines in his green eyes. “are you sure?”
you blink at the question as heat warms your cheeks from the thought of dating your best friend. “yes, megumi and i are just friends. really.” 
“why? because you have a boyfriend?” toji pries, uncaring if he sounds intrusive to you and you only assume that he’s trying to strike up a conversation in some old fashioned way.
you just shake your head and laugh, “it’s not that, either.” 
“hmm,” he props his elbow on the table leisurely, head resting on his fist as he looks at you intently, as if in search of something. “you’re pretty hard to figure out.” 
“what do you mean? i don’t think so.” you smile, bringing up the mug to cover your face again so you can shy away from his intense gaze yet he thinks that it’s endearing and he finds himself grinning unwillingly. 
toji notices how you always try to look away when you get so shy over some simple questions. you’re just oozing with purity and innocence of a maiden and something dark and twisted inside him is craving to violate every part of it. 
“for a start, i can’t figure out why you don’t have one.” he says, tapping his fingertips on the table as his mind is running with sinful thoughts. 
“hmm, maybe because i haven’t found anyone interesting yet.” you finally lock your eyes with his as you answer, not wanting to come off as rude if you keep on talking without looking directly at the man.
“isn’t my son good for you?” he couldn’t care less to be honest; he only plans to test the waters and is even more aroused to learn that you’ve never been touched by a man before and he feels like a wolf that’s just ready to pounce on a lost, little lamb.
“oh, no, no!” why do you have to get so bashful? he’ll fuck you on this table if you don’t stop. “we just don’t see each other that way.”
he’s so lost in his thoughts and carnal desires that whatever you’re babbling seems to go in one ear and out the other.
“then, what do you think of me?” he asks nonchalantly with a smirk plastered across his face.
you blink at him once, twice. “uhh, what?” is he suddenly getting self-conscious? 
“you heard me. what do you think of me?” yet he doesn’t seem like it either.
“umm,” you ponder for a moment as you think of every adjective you can find in your head that wouldn’t come out offensive if you’re going to be honest with him. why would he even ask you such a thing anyways? and why would it matter to him? there’s nothing nice about him that you could exactly pinpoint from the past except for ‘scary’, ‘serious’ and some other things revolving around those.
“i thought that you were kinda... scary?” you blurt unsurely, mentally slapping yourself for even daring to say such a thing to him. unless it’s a vibe that he was going for, then you’d be relieved. 
it isn’t exactly what toji wants to hear but he laughs heartily, “really?” a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you again, his eyes glimmering with daunt. “but are you still scared of me?”
“uh, no.” you laugh. “you’re actually really nice, mr. fushiguro.” 
“oh, that makes me feel better.” another grin etches on his scarred lips as he draws his gaze to your hands that are tensing and fiddling with your sleeves and your leg is bouncing; a perfect depiction of a trembling lamb cornered in his den– and he’s fucking starving. 
has he got you on edge? are you nervous? good. “but i think you should.”
a lump catches in your throat and your heart drops, “i- what?”
the chair emits a screeching sound and it stumbles backwards as toji abruptly stands up from his seat. sheer panic causes you to rise on your feet too, and your eyes dart to the chair, and the male, back and forth as your mind tries to get a grasp on the situation.
“mr. fushiguro..?” you whisper meekly, taking a step away and around the table as you notice him taking a careful yet threatening inch closer. 
“no, no. i’m not gonna hurt you.” toji (barely) reassures you as he continues creeping on his feet. but the sinister smile on his lips takes out every last bit of faith you had in him and the loud voice in your head keeps telling you to run for the door and never look back– fuck the rain.
 as if he can read through your thoughts, he warns. “but i will, if you run.” 
the smile on toji’s face turns smug when he sees you freeze in place upon his threat. being trapped under the unpleasant situation triggers your fight or flight responses and rapid heartbeat drums in your ears as you stand in trance and trepidation.
“that’s a good girl.” he coos, taking another step forward before you decide to throw a mug at him and dash towards the door as fast as you can. you assume that toji has pushed the table to the floor when you hear a loud thud, followed by his hasty footsteps as he catches up quickly behind you. 
the door that is finally within arm’s reach suddenly changes into a mirage when a strong pair of arms grabs you by the waist and your body floats as it lifts onto his shoulder. the huge contrast between the size of your body and his should let you know; no matter how much you try to resist, he will never budge. yet, your arms and legs still flail around in an attempt to punch and kick him and you’re screaming for him to let you down and just hope that anyone is able to hear your cries in spite of the thunderstorm. 
well, so much for luck.
“ah, ah. you don’t wanna do that.” there’s a mocking and amusing tone in his voice as he advises you. “you should save that energy later. juuust in a bit.” 
“mr. fushiguro– stop–!” you sob, watching your only escape slowly disappears out of sight when he turns to a corner and into a dark room. your body bounces onto a mattress before toji’s huge, ripped figure swiftly looms above yours and ties your hands together with a belt and onto the headboard. at this point, the illuminating lights through the windows are the only thing that aids your vision and you have to rely more on your senses.
“shh,” he shushes you with a finger against your trembling lips. “the neighbors will hear. and if they do, i want it to be because you’re getting fucked so good. so be a good little girl for daddy, okay?”
regardless of being terrified, you find yourself cringing over the nickname he refers to himself. hopefully, he won’t ask you to call him that either. “mr. fushiguro– i– please don’t do this. i- i won’t tell anyone.” 
toji tsks, taking his sweet time to admire your smaller body underneath his– the exposed, soft skin on your neck waiting to be bruised, chest heaving as your breath comes deep and short, and legs pressing together to secure your modesty; though will prove to be futile later. 
“i know you won’t.” his thumb grazes against your lips, mesmerized by its plushness as he imagines it wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock. “are you a virgin?”
you only nod your head, eyes wavering as you look at his darker ones before catching it shine with interest. 
“never had anything inside here?” he asks again, pressing your cunt against the fabric of your pants with his fingers. the dark room makes it hard to see, but your cheeks are turning red from humiliation and you look away before shaking your head no.
“are you sure?” toji’s thumb presses down on your clit and causes your body to shudder apprehensively.
“o-only my finger.” you audibly whisper through the white noise outside. 
oh, how exhilarating. guess the innocent looking ones can be lewd too. don’t you know that a cock would make you feel better? a big cock like his is definitely what you need. just a finger wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you! poor little thing. 
“then i got to teach you a few things, right? it’ll come handy later. boys love girls with experiences.” he promptly strips you off from your pants before carelessly throws it to the ground and kneels between your legs to keep you wide and open for him.
“you like to be touched here?” his finger reaches down to ghost over your clothed clit, observing you with lust filled eyes while you turn away from his gaze and remain unresponsive. “daddy is a very impatient person so i suggest you answer me.”
toji pinches your clit, and your body squirms with an elicited yelp. you can only guess (and hope) that he wasn’t referring to him touching you there but you answer anyway, “y-yes.”
he hums in satisfaction, moving down until his head stops between your thighs and in front of your sex. toji grabs your thigh and spreads them apart before flattening his warm tongue against your clothed bud, causing a shiver to run down your spine and it quickly draws your attention to him.
your face heats up in embarrassment when you see toji’s head dipped in front of your pussy, but he’s only calm and teasing as his jade eyes stare up to lock with yours to look for a reaction.
“you’ve never felt a tongue over here either, hm?” he sneers, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you mentally curse yourself for feeling slightly aroused over his ministrations. 
“just let me go, please.” you try to close your legs, but to no avail when his rough hands push them away.
“you know, if you keep asking for ridiculous things,” toji tuts and grasps your supple thighs hard, nails digging painfully on your skin. “i might have to get rough on you. but you’re a smart girl and you wouldn’t like that, right?” 
“n-no.” you choke and fidget.
“good. because i only want you to feel good.” he offers a gentle smile and kisses the dented mark on your thigh. “so, let’s start over. you haven’t answered me.”
you nibble your lip hesitantly and look anywhere but him, “no.”
“see? all the more reason for me to show you what you’ve been missing out.” he chuckles, tugging your underwear to the side impatiently.
“fuck. such a pretty pussy.” he growls at the sight of your bare cunt. there isn’t a lot of slick yet, but it’s fine, he’ll make you get there. that’s the point of this whole ordeal, right?
your body quivers naturally once you feel the foreign sensation; wet, warm muscle prodding your puffy folds up to your clit and circling on it with the tip of his tongue teasingly as he observes you from below. 
your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are caught between your teeth as you try to restrict your whines from the undeniable pleasure rushing in your veins and he doesn’t stop– your pathetic attempt to deny him and your sentiments only drives him to push you over the edge even more. 
with a harsh suck on your clit, he manages to get you to squeal and you can feel him smirking underneath you. toji flattens his tongue and laps off your juices again before he takes you by surprise when he suddenly slides a finger inside your tight, wet cunt. 
“shh. it’ll feel good, baby girl.” he comforts when he hears you whimper at the pain inflicted and true enough, it soon begins to feel good. you’ve fingered yourself plenty of times before, but it feels different when he does it for you– his finger is thick and long that it reaches deeper than you’ve ever been able to.
toji notices you start to become quiet so he slides in another digit, eliciting yet another sob from you. the warm and moist cunny makes his cock twitch and he finds himself getting eager. your back arches from the bed when toji curls his fingers to stroke the bumpy tissues of your g-spot with every drag.
“feels good, yeah?” he grins arrogantly as your legs tremble under his hold. your breathing has turned erratic and your toes are curling as your mouth gapes in pitiful, broken cries that are just music to his ears. 
“answer me, sweetheart.” he presses down a thumb on your neglected clit, reminding you that he is not keen on being ignored and disputed. 
“y-yes.” you finally choke through pants and shame. though the answer comes out in hesitance, your body is more honest– pussy sopping and eliciting obscene squelches and it’s enough to satisfy him for now. 
your head thrashes side to side as you feel yourself about to tip over but you still refuse to beg toji for a release. 
“hah– fuck!” you whimper loudly when toji oh-so-generously sucks your clit again, fingers pumping faster inside your cunt, making your body feel even more tense with overbearing stimulation before finally pushing you over the edge and you break into a silent scream.
toji laps off your slick before he pulls out his finger into his mouth and licks them clean. 
“that’s a good girl. why don’t you taste yourself?” he climbs on top of you while you gasp for air from the intense orgasm and he easily pulls you into a fervour, sloppy kiss. you can feel the wet slick on his chin and you can taste yourself at the same time as he intertwines his tongue with yours. 
four.
out of spite and vexation, you found courage to bite his tongue hard and toji instantly pushes himself from you, his dark eyes express astonishment and agitation.
“fucking bitch.” he curses as his eyes narrow at you displeasingly before he takes off his pants and briefs to release his cock from its confinements. his cock is throbbing and thick, and you can almost see a trickle of precum on its head. you crumple at the sight as regret and anxiety washes over you.
“don’t worry, it’ll fit.” he says cockily upon the worrisome look on your face. “but since you like it rough, i’m sure you want to choke on it first.” 
“no– i’m sorry!” you shake your head but toji only lets out a scornful laugh as he disregards your pleas and props himself on the knees and over your neck.
toji slaps the tip of his cock on your lips, gesturing you to open your mouth but you purse them into a flat, thin line and refuse to obey. 
“open up. it’s a part of your lesson after all.” he snaps before squeezing your cheeks together. “it’ll get worse if you don’t listen to me.” 
“d-don’t wa-ant to– flea-shh.” you whimper and toji emits a long, deep sigh as he releases his grip. 
“i don’t like repeating myself.” his voice is laced with malice and chills crawls up your spine as his eyes look down at you demeaningly before you slowly open your mouth trepidatiously and wait for his next order. 
“no teeth. i think you’d know that much.” he patronizes before sliding his cock inside your mouth and he hisses as the warmth engulfs his throbbing cock. “that’s it. now, suck.”
and you have no choice but to obey submissively. you slightly lift your head and struggle to take his length as much as you can before running your tongue around to feel each prominent vein.
“i said suck, whore.” he commands through gritted teeth. you hollow your cheeks, compressing his fat cock tight between them as you bop your head up and down. 
“fuuuck, just like that.” toji groans as his hand reaches the top of your head and caresses you softly. you start to pick up the pace, slobbering his dick with so much saliva that it begins to seep from the corners of your mouth and it’s so wet and obscene– just the way he likes it. 
“it almost makes me think that this isn’t your first time.” his head falls back and hips begin to jerk until the tip hits the back of your throat, forcing you to take more than you could. you choke as tears start to well up in your eyes and the bedhead shakes when you try to tug your wrists. 
“what’s wrong? can’t take my fat cock?” he scoffs arrogantly. “you gotta work on your gag reflex, sweetheart.”
the muffles from your throat vibrate against his dick and toji groans in pleasure that he subconsciously rocks his hips, slapping your chin with his balls. your vision has become blurry and breathing becomes harder as you let him abuse your throat and your jaws ache before he abruptly pulls out and you can finally gasp for precious air.
“look at you,” his cock twitches with excitement when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks from your doe eyes and he wipes them away with his thumb, making you flinch slightly, “are you sorry for making daddy mad?” 
toji always tries to articulate each word with appease. it’s never soothing per se when you can sense the threat entwining in his voice and it’s fucking you psychologically.
and it deems to be successful when you’re already trembling in fear underneath him. 
you’re uncertain whether he prefers you to speak or not, but your throat is sore so you meekly nod your head in response. it’s better than nothing, to be honest.
“good. open your mouth.”
your mouth is already parted for air but you assume that he wants to put his cock in again. submissively, yet dreadfully, you open your mouth wider and await for him to shove his cock back in but you’re surprised when toji spits in your mouth instead. 
it’s warm and disgusting; you’re just left gaping and repelled, and you want to spit it out but toji squeezes your cheeks together.
“swallow.” he orders. you quickly brace yourself and close your eyes before cringing as you gulp down the mix of saliva in your mouth and toji releases his grip once he’s certain that you’ve ingested. 
“i could’ve made you swallow my cum but i’d feel bad,” he chuckles sardonically. “what do you have to say?” 
“t-thank you.” you whisper vaguely and he accustoms his face to a simper. 
“good girl.” toji smashes his lips onto yours, yet his eyes are locked with yours ominously for a brief second– a telltale that he expects you not to pull up another stunt before they close as he deepens the kiss. 
obviously, nothing would benefit you whether you comply or defy, not until you’ve catered for his insatiable lechery. but you’ve learned your lesson and although you’re compelled, you finally relent as every ounce of resistance begins to drift from you. 
toji breaks the kiss and shifts lower, peppering greedy kisses on your neck before he catches the soft, chaste skin between his teeth to suck and form purplish bruising marks. he lifts up your shirt over your head and hastily unclasps your bra, causing you to shudder once the cold air hits your exposed breasts. 
large, calloused hands press your mounds before his mouth latches on one perky tit, while the other is tweaked with his fingers. experienced tongue draws circles and sucks punishingly, alternating with the other nipple. the headboard rattles as you keen over the stimulation and your eyes open in dismay when you feel something hard prodding your clit. 
he moves lower and spits on your cunt before propping on his knees to take off his tight shirt– through subdued glow, you can make out the outline of his toned abs and broad chest as his large build towers menacingly in front of you; even when he’s not standing on his feet.
“listen. daddy is going to release the binds, but do you promise to be good?” he asks, smearing the saliva with his cockhead and against your slit.
“yes. i- i promise.” you murmur appallingly; as if you have a choice in the matter.
toji leans over to unrestrain you then he observes you, expecting you to put up a fight but instead, you just remain still underneath him. 
he grins in satisfaction, getting off to the fact that you’ve fallen into submission before he shifts back into his prior position and bends your knees up to line his cock with your hole. a feeling of triumph stirs inside him when he’s reminded that he’s the ‘chosen’ one to defile your innocence.
“stop! it hurts–!” you wail and your hands clench the sheets when you feel toji’s thick cock stretching your virgin cunt slowly, but he ignores you, groaning at the warmth that engulfs him and the tight walls that clenches him as he selfishly pushes through. 
it burns. so bad. your chest heaves rapidly and you screw your eyes shut as your face twists to express pain and uncomfort. “please, please–! i can’t–”
“yes, you can.” his tone is indifferent as he holds you down since your body keeps on wincing until he finally fills you to the brim and he can see a bulge poking on your tummy. 
“fuck. haven’t been inside a virgin cunt for a while.” he mutters under his breath. “now, i know it hurts but i promise you’ll enjoy it. it’s just too bad that you get to have a big cock as your first.” he snickers nonchalantly and leans down closer to your face, making you jolt when you feel it inching deeper.
“if it makes you feel better– you’re fucking tight. just the way daddy likes it.” toji whispers in your ear but you can only freeze in fear and agony.
toji hovers above you, his hands firmly grip the headboard in front of him and he begins to move his hips; thrusting in and out of your pussy. 
your fists clench the sheets harder as a loud cry rips from your throat, “no! it hurts! please!”
but toji doesn’t seem to mind, his cyan orbs stare down at you coldly yet in focus as he relishes over the plush walls clamping down on his cock. 
“stop! stop– i- i don’t want–!” you continuously wail as you writhe in anguish before he suddenly stops pounding and he wraps his hand around your neck instead, instantly drawing your attention to him as he applies pressure in his hold. 
“if you don’t stop whining like a bitch in heat, i will fucking breed you like one.” he warns through gritted teeth, clearly agitated over your act of defiance. 
“you want this. you’re going to love this.” his words are sick endeavours to coerce you into another round of complete submission. 
but what else can you do? toji’s hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb almost reach each other as it clasps around your frail neck and you know he can easily crush your windpipes if he wants to.
“say it. you. want. this.” he seethes.
“i. want. this.” you barely croak each word and they’re slowly influencing your cloudy mind. as soon as he releases you, you soothe the pain around your throat with your hand as you gasp for air.
“fuck. don’t think i didn’t feel you clenching around my cock just now.” he sneers and situates himself again before ruthlessly and steadily continuing where he left off. 
you only close your eyes and bite your lips hard to stop whimpering as you mentally comfort yourself and dissolve every inch of your sanity; i’m going to enjoy it, it’s going to feel good soon, i want this, i want this.
soon enough, toji notices that your muscles have relaxed– suggesting that you’ve finally caved in as pleasure overtakes you so he fucks you deeper and faster before he falls on his elbows and you can feel his bangs tickling your face.
“that’s it, baby. you make daddy feel so fucking good.” he praises between grunts. you can feel the veins on his cock dragging against your walls and he’s right, it feels so good and your lips open in breathless pants.
you find your arms to loosely wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist as if clinging onto him for dear life as toji ruts into your cunny like a feral beast. 
“you like it, yeah? this is what you want, isn’t it?” 
through hazy mind, you can only manage to whimper an audible ‘yes’ as you feel an odd, yet almost familiar knot twisting in your lower stomach begging to snap and your nails dig into the skin of his broad back upon the intense sensation shooting through your body. 
a low, deep guttural sound leaves his throat when he feels your nails sinking and scratching his back– it prompts him to quicken his pace and you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over, causing your back to arch simultaneously. 
“i’m– i’m gonna–!” you keen as your body trembles in anticipation and your sopping cunt is clenching on his throbbing cock like a vice. 
“fuck yeah. cum on daddy’s cock.” toji urges and nips on the sensitive skin of your neck to tip you over the edge and your pupils blow wide as you break into a scream. despite being your second orgasm for the night, an overwhelming euphoria washes over you for the first time of your life; is this what it feels like? you don’t know, you’ve never had one (at least not from a cock) and your pussy is just fluttering, pulsing and creaming around his cock. 
“hah– fuck. good girl.” 
toji remains to snap his hips, fucking you through your high as you’re left in daze from your orgasm. toji can feel his balls tensing and his thrusts are turning sporadic as he inches closer to his climax. your whines and nonsense babbles are drowned by the feeling of pleasure that’s enveloping him and he doesn’t even have the resolution to listen to you gibbering when your cunny is just milking him, sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go and he just wants to give what your greedy pussy asks for; to fill it up with his thick load until it’s full and leaking out of you. 
and daddy knows best, after all.
“shit– i won’t be able to hold it any longer. say you want daddy’s cum.” he grunts.
you’ve partly snapped out of your daze when you hear his voice again, and though you can’t see his face that’s already buried next to your head, you’re petrified and it’s making you feel dizzy and suffocated. 
“i– n-no. please not–” you sob through your raw throat.
but toji doesn’t listen and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not because if he does, you know that it’ll tick him off and it’s going to do you more harm than good– but you’re scared and it hurts, that you unwillingly start to snivel again.
“shut up. you’re gonna take it like a good cumslut.” he shoves two long fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke on them.
“daddy’s gonna cum in this pretty pussy and you’re gonna fucking take it.” 
toji’s grunts ring in your ears and you’re able to feel his cock twitching inside you before he finally releases hot ropes of cum– filling up and defiling your womb.
“y-you came inside..” you mumble once he takes out his fingers as you’re left entirely devastated and stupefied. 
“fucking did.” he pants, lifting his body up from you and pulls out his cock to shove back the dribbling cum that’s leaking from your abused cunny with his finger. you would wince but your mind is already numb and your body is sore that you can do nothing but burn holes through the ceiling above.
“don’t look so sad.” the room resonates with his chuckles and he gets off the bed to put back on his pants. toji walks over to the nightstand where a pack of cigarettes await him and he puts one between his lips and you can hear the flicking sounds of a lighter as he tries to burn the tip. 
“i can promise you that other guys wouldn’t be rough as me but one thing’s for sure,” he inhales the tobacco and exhales in a gratifying manner, “that will stay as the best fuck of your life.”
fat tears stream down your cheeks and you curl on your side, protecting your now-ruined-body as you quietly sob and your mind takes you back from how the ordeal even started and causes you to end up where you are right now– and it only makes you cry harder.
toji only lets out an exasperated sigh. he grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on his shoulder before reaching the door.
“megumi won’t be coming home ‘til tomorrow. he said something about the train and the weather, so you can leave when you’re done. you know your way out.”
you hear the door close shut behind him and you’re left in the dark with nothing but the smell of his tobacco and the sounds of the drizzling rain accompanying you as you drown in your thoughts and griefs. 
how many mistakes have you made today? four? five? or more? 
you’ve lost count and you question yourself over again until you’re no longer able to care.
what’s done is done.
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i-am-distressed · 4 months ago
Text
JJK Boys getting hit 'where it hurts' by their kids
Characters: Megumi, Itadori, Yuta, Noritoshi, Nanami, Toji, Naoya, Geto, Gojo and Sukuna
Warnings: w e l l, the guys getting hit in the balls, guys grabbing their crotch because pain, emotional distress due to being deeply wounded and betrayed by their own spawn, laughing children, children laughing at pain, children, idk what people think about parenting these days so in Sukuna’s you guys are dealing with a 2 year old, Naoya + Sukuna (I change them for my own convenience), idk man, I just get a kick outta writing these ones
**The boys are (aged up if not already) married with kids, if you don't like the number of kids I gave them, this is just my opinion😌**
Fushiguro Megumi:
You were going out with some friends tonight, so naturally your husband was left to babysit your children.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem, he’s a good dad and more than capable of caring for his kids.
...Except for the fact that Gojo had decided to spend the day with them, and in doing so made sure to fill them up with sugar and excitement before dropping them off and going home with a ‘Have fun with that Megumi~’ because he’s awful.
So now, here Megumi is, his middle son hanging off his back, his youngest daughter in one arm while he wrangled with his oldest son to put his pajama pants on.
“No! I’m not sleepy yet!” His 5 year old son loudly said, along with the oncoming headache Megumi could swear a tick mark had just appeared.
“Too bad, it’s already an hour past your bedtime, you’ll be tired once you put these pants on and get in bed!” He almost had your son, but alas, he slipped out of his grasp at the last second, the sudden movement causing your 1 ½ year old daughter to start crying.
Megumi took a deep breath, shifted so that his daughter rested more on his hip so that he could just barely use his hands and “Demon dog!”
Before his son could react, demon dog had already picked him up by the collar of his shirt, bring him right to Megumi who was able to get one of his sons legs in the pants.
But when he did, his son squirmed, and his little foot came straight up in between Megumi’s legs.
“uGH-” Fighting a cry of pain, megumi finished getting his son dressed, kneeled so his son could slip off of his back and set his little girl down on the couch, before hunching over and just...sitting there for a bit..
Itadori Yuji:
You and Itadori had 2 rambunctious twin boys.
2 rambunctious twin boys who took a lot after their father, and not just in their looks.
They were sweet, fun, lovable kids. But they also had endless amounts of energy and didn’t always look before they leapt. So keeping an extra eye out on them in public was necessary.
Itadori was in the backyard, playing football (The throw kind, not kick kind) with the twins. You had specifically told him to be careful, and he said he would be so you weren’t too worried.
But you sat on the porch while they played, just in case.
Your 2 boys, Junto and Kentaro (😥), were natural athletes, and even if they were only 7, they were no doubt a force to be reckoned with.
They were a good match for Itadori, but I wouldn’t call the game even. Even with the twins vs Itadori, you could tell the twins were going to be tired tonight (not like you’re complaining, at least they’ll actually go to bed on time tonight).
Junto had the ball, he sprinted across the yard, doing his best at ducking and dodging Itadori’s attempts at grabbing him.
The 7 year old was so close to freedom, so close to him and his brother winning the game.
When seemingly out of nowhere his dad came sprinting up behind him, grabbing him from behind and lifting him into the air, your child’s squeals and laughter ringing through the air as your other son came to ‘help him’.
So now, they were where they usually ended up when they played games like this, Itadori with both of his children hanging off of him as they laughed and rough housed.
Itadori is strong, strong willed, strong in character, high levels of endurance. But all it took was one wayward heel to his crotch to bring him to the ground, on his knees as he just sat there, whimpers of pain escaping him.
Your sons scampered off, still laughing while you came to rub a hand up and down your husband’s back while he went on about the pain of their betrayal.
Okkotsu Yuta:
You, Yuta and your 2 kids were sat on the couch, watching a movie together on a Friday night.
It was raining outside with a 65% chance of a thunderstorm, which wasn’t too bad since you guys were inside.
But it wasn’t great since your oldest, your 4 year old daughter Emiko was terrified of storms.
She was sitting in between you two, sitting tucked snugly into Yuta’s side while his arm rested on the back of the couch, you sitting on her other side with your 2 year old son Yuki.
You were about ⅔ of the way through Princess and The Frog, when all of a sudden the lights cut out.
Your little girl screamed and ducked into your husband's side, Yuta in turn held his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, gently shushing her and telling her everything would be okay.
“Yuta?” You could see the shadow of your husband as he stood up, “I’ll be right back, gonna go check the breaker.”
He turned to go check the electrical box when he felt a tug on his sleeve, squinting as he looked down to see the silhouette of his little girl in the dark, quivering from fear.
“Hey, it’s okay Emi, I’ll be right back, but daddy has to go see if he can turn the lights back on.” He watched as she shook her head, grip on his sleeve tightening as she shifted closer to him.
“P-please don’t go...daddy I'm scared.” Yuta sighed, he could feel her shaking.
He knelt down to where she was standing on the floor, about to try and convince her to let him fix the lights, when the living room lit up from lightning, and a boom of thunder sounded throughout the house.
Screaming again, your daughter launched herself at Yuta, throwing her arms around his neck, that he was ready for he knew how much she hated thunderstorms.
What he wasn’t ready for was the swing of her legs bringing her left foot directly to his crotch.
You, who was still cradling your son in your lap (your son took much more after you, so the dark and storms never really bothered him all that much), watched as your husband was now knelt on the ground, shaking as he held your crying daughter.
“I-it’s okay Emi...d-daddy’s *gulp* daddy’s not going anywhere.” As your husband painfully got through that sentence, you could hear the octaves of his voice getting higher and higher with each word.
“...Yuta...are you okay?” You asked, confused as to why your husband sounded like he was in an incredible amount of pain.
All you heard was a weak ‘Mhm’ as he continued to hug his daughter, who, in the arms of her father, was feeling much better.
Just then, the lights switched back on, and there you could see Yuta slumping down further when your daughter let go and hopped back on the couch, burrowing into your side.
“...baby? Are you sure you’re okay-” “i’m fiNE.” Now that the lights were back on, you could see that one of his hands were lower, when the realization of what happened hit, you couldn’t decide whether to comfort him or laugh.
You settled on doing both.
Kamo Noritoshi:
Today, Noritoshi would be teaching your 3 sons how to use a bow and arrow.
You weren’t...too worried, I mean your husband was an expert with the weapon and he was an excellent father but.
They’re still your babies, and they’ll still be handling a dangerous weapon, so you made sure beforehand to remind your husband to be extra careful.
Your sons were 10, 8 and 6. He would have taught your daughters but they’re only 4, and you had to put the age limit somewhere.
You sat with your daughters on the porch, setting out the newspapers and setting the canvases down on top of them. Father’s day was coming up, and you knew Noritoshi would love nothing more from his little girls than pictures they had painted for him.
After you got your daughters started on their paintings, you walked to the other side of the porch to watch as Noritoshi talked to your sons, showing them the proper stance to have and how they should be holding the bow.
You smiled as you thought back to when the two of you were still dating, it had been about 3 months since you two had gotten together, and you remember it had been a day-date the two of you had, where he was teaching you how to use a bow. Long story short, he may have used the excuse to teach you how to use the bow to have your first kiss, but you still remember how fun it was to learn how to use it.
You also may or may not have been admiring how nice he looked using a bow. Now that he was older Noritoshi had let his hair grow longer, today it was kept in a low bun, he was also wearing a tighter fitting t-shirt.
You smirked as his eyes caught your own, you being less than obvious about checking him out as he shook his head, suppressing a laugh as he continued to teach the boys.
He snuck a glance at you, a single glance, wanting to admire his wife’s beauty, but that one glance was enough time for his middlest son, who he left in possession of the bow, to swing around and catch him right in his crotch.
Your jaw dropped and your hand came up to your mouth as you gasped, watching your first-grade powerful sorcerer husband bend over with his hands clamped down on his knees, your sons gasping before backing away.
You made your way down to Noritoshi, softly calling his name before your resolve cracked and you started laughing.
You wiped the tears that had started to slip out of your eyes as your laughter died down, only to start laughing again when your husband glared at you saying ‘You raised them that way’ as he tried to steady his breathing.
Nanami Kento:
Nanami was standing with all the other mom’s and dad’s who were waiting to pick up their kids, texting you that he was there and asking for the grocery list since he’d go ahead and get the groceries on his way home.
You were at a doctor’s appointment for a checkup, you were 4 more months away from having your 2nd child, so Nanami offered to leave work a little early and pick your 3 year old daughter Kumiko up from preschool.
It wasn’t long until the school bell rang, the preschool teacher leading the students out of the building.
Nanami slipped his phone into his pocket, eyes sifting through the crowd of kids to find his little girl.
Once he saw those familiar pigtails bouncing towards him, he smiled, patting her head when she ran into his leg and hugged him.
He gently took hold of her hand and they made their way to his car.
“How was your day sweetheart?” He smiled as her face lit up, her recounting her day and telling him all about her friends and the things they did in school.
Usually you’d be the one to pick her up from school, but due from now on Nanami would be taking her to and from preschool.
Which was no problem he didn’t mind, he just had to remember to put her car seat in his car.
“Wait here, I have to get your car seat.” He shook his head with a small chuckle when she responded with an enthusiastic ‘Okay!’ as she looked around while he got her seat out of the trunk.
While he was fighting to get it free she was getting a little antsy cause...backpacks at that age are heavy man.
She had it sitting on her elbows, little huffs coming out as she resisted the urge to let it drop to the ground, knowing full and well that wouldn’t fly with her dad.
Nanami lifted the seat out of the trunk, closing it and walking back around to the back seat, his view was unfortunately blocked by the seat, so he didn’t see how his daughter was swinging her bag back and forth.
He was one step away from being able to put the seat in the car when his daughter turned exceptionally fast, her bag and all the weight carried with it being swung right into his crotch.
His daughter gasped and turned back around when she heard her dad quietly shout in pain, the car seat being ‘gently’ set on the ground as he bent over, groaning as his daughter stood there, little hands covering her mouth, and also her giggles.
“There’s no doubt about it, she’s your daughter. Not only was she not paying attention, but she also laughed at me when I was in pain.” You threw your head back in laughter as your husband pouted as he rolled away from you towards the other side of the bed, you rubbing his back with a ‘Sorry honey~’, both of you knowing that you really weren’t😌
Fushiguro Toji:
**In this, for his/your kids imma just stick with 5 & 6 year old Megumi and Tsumiki cause it makes sense :p**
Toji had gotten home late last night from a mission, and after a shower and a quick meal he crashed the moment he hit you guys’ bed.
It was now approximately 10:30 am the next day. Toji had woken up earlier, but not even the dark roast black cup of coffee he had could stop him from taking a long nap on the couch.
He had no problem with sleeping the day away, his kids however, they had quite the problem with it.
“*Sigh* Mommy...when’s daddy gonna be awake? Our favorite show is gonna come on soon and he’s taking up the couch.” You turned away from the sink where you were washing the dishes to see Megumi and Tsumiki standing by the counter. Normally you’d encourage them to play with their toys or outside instead, but they had been very well behaved this week and your husband needed to wake up some time.
“Probably soon, he came in late last night, so he’s really tired.” Megumi gave you one of his ‘looks’ while huffing, “Mommy, daddy’s always tired, is it okay if we wake him up?”
You turned the water off as you turned to face him, eyebrow raised as your arms crossed over your chest.
“Are you going to hit him?” “No” “Are you going to pour water on him?” “No” “Are you going to use your shikigamI?”...”Megumi?” “*sigh*...no” Shaking your head you failed to suppress a smile, “Be nice”.
So, your 2 children set out on a mission, mission ‘get dad off of the couch so we can watch cartoons’
It was a solid plan really, although you had removed several options on how they would be able to do said plan, but alas Megumi was a resourceful child and really wanted to watch his cartoons.
Toji had briefly woken up, he was laying on his back, and one of his arms was slung over his eyes, trying to block out the sunlight.
He could hear the sounds of the water running and dishes being moved, along with the light thuds that no doubt came from his children running around and causing chaos.
He was just about to doze back off, just about to get more sleep, when “ATTACK!!” Before he could so much as block his children came hurdling over the side of the couch, Tsumiki landing on his legs while Megumi landed right on his abdomen.
Or rather, meant to, his aim and perception of his father’s height was a little off, so his knee landed a little lower than he would have intended, not like he really thought too hard about it beforehand. Megumi had cartoons to watch and his dad was just an obstacle😞💅.
Toji, who was now wide awake, sat up, hands clutching at his clutch while he stared wide eyed at his children who were nonchalantly sitting on the now mostly available couch, turning the TV to the right channel.
“W-how-why?! You tryin’ to kill me?!” Megumi looked at his father with boredom, shrugging his shoulders with an ‘I dunno’ before turning back to his show. Toji getting up to slump around your shoulders as you broke out in laughter when he told you what happened.
Zen'in Naoya:
People could say what they want about Naoya, that he was stuck up, acted like he was too good for this world, and your personal favorite that he must be a terrible father because he was Naoya Zen’in.
But here he was, dodging his laughing children as they ran around, trying to tag him as he smiled, dipping right at the perfect moment so they couldn’t quite catch him.
You shook your head, leaning against the railing as you watch your husband play with your son and daughter, a smile present on his face as his lightly colored hair swooshed around him.
It was good to see how truly happy he was nowadays, no longer being put up on a pedestal, no longer under the heavy pressure that came from being in the Zen’in clan, and out of the watchful eyes of his family. It was good to see him being himself. Could he still be a jerk? Absolutely. Did he ever dare act that way towards you or your babies? Absolutely not.
“Close, but not close enough.” Your son furrowed his eyebrows as he faced his dad, “That’s not fair! You cheated!” Your little girl echoing his pout as her hands sassily placed themselves on her hips.
Naoya laughed, hand coming up to his chest as he leaned down in front of his children so that his hands were resting on his knees.
“What? Cheating...why would you go and accuse me of that?!” You could tell he was fighting a smile, the way the corners of his lips kept tugging upwards as he struggled to maintain a face of confusion.
“You know what you did dad! You used your speed! And that’s cheating!”
Naoya shook his head, “I would never, right Y/n? I’d never betray my own flesh and blood-” Just as he had turned around to face you, his son had taken a step forward, braced himself, and swung his leg up right in between his father’s and right into his balls.
Shrieking Naoya fell the the grass shaking as he stayed in a modified version of the fetal position as his oldest son ran with his arms raised in victory and his daughter crouched down next to him, poking him asking him if he was dead.
You were still on the porch doubled over in laughter.
“Y-you might not betray your own flesh and blood *wheeze* but they sure did betray you!”
Choso:
Choso and you had taken your 4 year old daughters to the park.
Your guys had 2 wonderful little girls, and even though they were fraternal twins they were still incredibly similar, both in looks and in personality.
As soon as you guys got to the park your girls took off with their cousins (Itadori’s kids cause obviously, it was a play date<3) to go play while you, Choso and the remaining Itadori’s went to sit at one of the pavilions.
You guys had been there for just about an hour when your kids came running back, asking if you guys could push them on the swings.
Choso took one daughter while you took the other, Itadori and his wife doing the same with their sons.
Choso couldn’t keep the smile off his face watching his family, and his extended family being all in one place, all having a good time. He almost shed a tear at how whole he felt, at how fulfilled he felt.
“Daddy! Higher!” Choso smiled wider, “Okay, but you have to hold on! Don’t let go!”. And so, using his big muscles, he (responsibly of course, he’s a good dad and you were right there.) pushed her higher and higher.
Memories of doing this with his own brothers flashed through his head and he couldn’t help but sigh with bliss as he thought about little Yuji doing the same thing.
“Higher!” Not quite thinking, he obliged with his daughters request, the action not quite resonating that he’d need to take a good step back because she was going higher, and also coming back further.
Just when his daughter came swinging back, he realized he was a little too close, and he would’ve been fine, except for the fact that as she went back, her legs curled back, her heels catching him right in between his legs.
Choso could feel his soul leave his body, his body freezing as his daughter gasped, stopping herself as quickly (and as safely since you came over to help her) as she could so she could hop off of her swing and turn to her dad, tugging on her sleeve with worry in her eyes.
This of course attracted the attention of his other child, nephews and most unfortunate of all, his brother. Who when he learned what had happened, burst from the seams of laughter watching his older sister stay kneeled on the ground in pain.
Gojo Satoru:
Gojo didn’t get a lot of time off.
Not only was he a full time teacher, mentor and the strongest sorcerer alive, but he was also a husband and a father, and somehow he managed it quite well to be honest.
You can imagine he was pretty busy, hence he didn’t get a lot of time off.
But when he did, you better believe he spent it with his family.
You guys had 3 boys (I just feel like he’s one that would want multiple kids, so when he is gone, no body’s left alone🥺),and he was always sure to spend time with all 3 equally, being careful never to leave anyone out.
At this particular moment, he was with your 8 year old, your oldest son.
They were playing with swords, and it came as no surprise to you that it was your husband's idea in the first place to play with said swords.
“En garde!” You watched from the doorway as your husband and oldest son fought with the swords, your husband had obviously turned off his infinity to ‘level the playing field’, even though you both knew that wouldn’t do much.
But to his son, it was all he needed to take his old man down.
“Whoa there, you tryin’ to kill me little guy?” Gojo said as he narrowly avoided his eye being poked out by the sword. “Yeah, be careful baby. Those eyes are his only redeeming feature.” Gojo sputtered as your son giggled as you smirked, kissing your son on his head and ruffling his hair before doing the same to your husband who pulled you down for a kiss on the lips.
Being *disgusted* by his parents actions, your son turned around to continue practicing his swordsmanship, completely oblivious to you leaving the room and Gojo walking up behind his son.
Deciding he had mastered his new ‘technique’ his sons eyes lit up, and with his sword ready he turned round ready to show his dad his new trick.
“Hey dad! Check this-” As soon as his upper body had spun around the thick foam sword he had been wielding thrust itself directly into Gojo’s crotch, causing the man to slump to his knees, then to his side, hands still guarding his lower region as he shook.
Your son then got up, eyes wide as he slowly slipped out of the room, telling you ‘Dad’s down….I think he’s gonna be down for a while.’ when he passed you in the hallway.
Sukuna Ryomen:
You and your husband Sukuna’s son had just turned 2 a couple of months ago, and so far the so called ‘terrible twos’ had been far more than terrible, and you were starting to think it was genetic…
“I- what do you mean no?! You like carrots!” You sighed as your fingers massaged your temples, watching as your husband fought with your toddler to get him to eat his lunch.
“No, I don’t like them daddy.” Your son huffed, his dark brows drawn close together as he returned the glare Sukuna was giving him.
When this started happening, you had obviously stepped in, and your son would eat his vegetables and what not when you told him to. The problem came when Sukuna asked him to, and that’s where the problem stemmed from. The real problem at hand being his ego.
“Well, that’s too bad. Carrots are good for your ears or whatever, and if you want to be big and strong like daddy, you have to eat those carrots.” Your son crossed his little arms over his chest, turning his head away and refusing to look towards his father.
You sighed, standing up and walking over to where your husband sat, slowly rubbing his shoulders and back until he was no longer seconds away from exploding. “Honey, take a breather, he’s just being difficult again you know this.” Sukuna huffed, grumbling as he took an angry sip from his coffee.
“Still...he does it when you ask...just not when I do it..” You knew this had little to do with his son not eating his carrots, and all to do with his son not listening to him, which he of course equated to his son not liking him. Which truly wasn’t the case, the twos are just not a good time for toddlers (parents…).
Putting on your sternest mom expression, you walked in front of your son, “Ryosuke. Your dad’s asked you several times to eat your carrots, you need to eat them baby.” Your toddler grumbled before turning back to his plate and eating his carrots, your husbands jaw dropping as you walked past him and softly patted his shoulder.
When your son finished his lunch, you had gone to switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer, so you weren’t there to let him out of his high chair. And as much as he didn’t want to associate with the enemy aka dad…
He uh...kinda needed out of that chair :p
Putting aside his toddler pride he stuck his arms up, “Daddy...get mommy...I wan’ out.” Sukuna raised an eyebrow, looking at his son with a gaze that said ‘really?’.
“I’m right here, your moms busy but I’ll let you out bud.” Your son pouted, trying his best to glare at his dad, but even the fiery gaze from his own flesh and blood didn’t stop the king of curses from getting out of his chair and walking around to the high chair.
Undoing the straps and latches he lifted his squirming son out of the chair, immediately having to adjust his grip so he didn’t drop him.
“Hey! Ryosuke stop kicking me! You’re going to fa-” Just then one of his sons legs went flying into Sukuna’s crotch. Just then you had walked out of the laundry room and into the kitchen/dining room, watching as your husband clumsily set down your son who ran but more like wobbled over towards you.
You just watched as Sukuna tightly gripped the table, his form still shaking as your son wobbled off to his playroom while you walked over to your husband, who was trying to dull the stinging pain of being brutally betrayed by his first born.
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devilsiichor · 5 months ago
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𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊 | 𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗
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a/n ♡ woo, first work on this blog! this is part of @karasunosimp’s it’s raining milk collab (thank u cas for letting my join), & i hope you all like it! it was supposed to be posted on mother’s day but that didn’t happen so </3 as always, thank u to @nanamimizz and @sems-diarie for beta’ing, & thank you to @ringpop-poppy for brainstorming this idea w me -- one line (marked w an asterisk) is literally her’s, and it lives in my head rent free (n i got permission to use it)
warnings ♡ milf!reader, fem!reader, reader is marco’s mom, uhhh mentions of breeding/creampies/pregnancy, lactation, mommy kink (in a condescending manner), dubcon kinda, infidelity, age gap, general scumminess from reader and eren, reader is a trophy wife so not a bimbo but like kinda
wc ♡ 2.8k 
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“Moooom, we’re home!”
Your son’s voice rings throughout your house and you feel yourself start to smile, lips curling softly at the corners. You look up from the magazine you’d been reading just in time to see Marco and his group of friends already rushing to the backyard, baseball, lacrosse, and football bags strewn about in front of the door. 
“Snacks are in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” You speak to them, laughing gently at the way Jean, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Connie have already stripped themselves of their shirts and jumped in the pool, water splashing everywhere -- including onto you, “Hey, careful! I just got my hair done, you animals.” 
The boys only laugh, though, a chorus of “Sorry!”s sounding from the pool, knowing you only mean it as a joke -- you scold them for something new every time they’re over here, and then they’ll splash you again, or act rowdy -- just for a reaction out of you. 
Anything for Marco’s hot mom to give them the time of day.
Armin, Eren, and Marco hang back like they usually do -- Marco to come sit next to you and talk about his day, Armin to fold his clothes carefully and get something to drink before he comes back out, and Eren to … stare at you. 
Suddenly you’re much more aware of how your bikini top has become tighter since you’ve had your baby girl, and how the sheer fabric of the cover up you have tied around your waist does little to hide your legs.
Eren does that a lot, you realize; he’ll stare at you when he thinks you’re not looking (or even when he knows you are), eyeing you like a man starved, so long as he knows Marco isn’t looking. He’s touchy, too -- he likes to corner you in the kitchen especially, hands lingering on your hips for just a bit too long as he squeezes past you to get to the fridge and low voice gruff in your ear, breathy and hot. You can’t deny that it does things to you.
Eren’s a handsome boy, he really is -- your son had met him (and the rest of the boys) during his first year of college, and they’d all been coming over to your house since then. It was the designated hangout spot, and you knew that part of it was due to you. You’re only in your thirties, approaching forty, with pretty eyes, pouty lips, and plush thighs. You’re usually out in the backyard with them, lounging on a pool chair and watching them over the rims of your Prada sunglasses, or in the kitchen while they play video games. You might not be much of a housewife (your husband’s well-paying job makes sure you don’t need to lift a finger if you don’t want to), but it’s fun to play the doting mom every once in a while. You’re picture perfect, and whether the boys like coming to your house just to eye you or to have a place to have fun is a mystery.
Eren’s just the boldest of the bunch, and you can’t really say you mind; you love your husband, you really do, but it’s no secret he’s never around. Always out on business trips, gone at all hours of the day, and too tired to do anything when he gets home. You can’t blame him, of course you can’t -- he’s working for you, for your family. It doesn’t help that you’ve felt less...desirable since you had your daughter, and that’s not his fault, but you can’t help but think that maybe he just doesn’t want you anymore.
But god, you still have needs, and when a boy as beautiful as Eren Jaeger looks at you like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world when you feel like anything but? It’s enough to make any woman weak at the knees -- especially one like you, who has always been just a bit selfish.
You realize you haven’t been listening to Marco and suddenly your skin feels like it’s burning; you snap yourself out of your reverie and pat your son’s knee, shaking your head at yourself, “Shit, I’m sorry baby, but I just remembered I have to go check on your sister. I’ll be back soon and you can tell me all about your day, yeah?” You don’t have to check on his sister, you put her down for a nap right before the boys got here.
Your son just nods, beaming brightly at you, “No problem, ma, I was just excited to talk to you.”
God, you really wanna fuck his friend. How vile of you. 
You rush into the house as quickly as you can without being suspicious, feet padding on the hardwood floors and into the bathroom at the end of the hall, closing the door softly behind you. You settle your hands on the edge of the counter and take a deep breath in an attempt to ground yourself, sitting there for a few minutes and reminding yourself that you shouldn’t fuck one of your son’s best friends, that you shouldn’t cheat on your husband with said best friend, that you shouldn’t -- 
The knock at the door is what brings you out of your thoughts and sends a shiver down your spine all at once. Deep down, you know who’s there, know what you’ll be faced with if that door opens, but you don’t speak, opting to act like you’re not even in there. 
The next knock makes you jump and you gasp a little bit, earning you a chuckle from the other outside of the door, “Can I come in, Mrs. Bott? You walked away real frantic, couldn’t help but be worried for you.” His voice is like honey, sickly sweet and cut with an edge of condescension. 
You take a deep breath before nodding (as if he can see it), gulping down the lump in your throat, “C-come in, Eren.” You cringe at how meek your voice sounds, shaky and nervous. 
You shrink back against the counter when he steps in, your eyes immediately trailing over his figure -- all cut muscle, eight pack and bulging biceps glistening with the water droplets that roll down his chest. The stare he gives you makes you feel small, especially compared to his imposing frame, and it takes less than five seconds for him to cross the door and corner you against the sink. 
The marble feels cold against the skin of your back and digs into it as you lean back, anything to get just a bit farther away from him and stop the temptation to give into your urges. 
Of course it doesn’t work, not with his strong arms caging you in on either side and the faint smell of his cologne invading your senses -- and the leg he shoves between your legs, pressed up snugly against your cunt, separated only by the flimsy material of your bikini.
“You’re real pretty, you know that?” Eren looks down at you with a raised eyebrow, hands traveling up and settling at your waist, squeezing in the slightest, “No fuckin’ clue why I didn’t do this sooner, god --”
“Eren, we shouldn’t--” You start, cut off by how close his face suddenly is to yours. 
“Do you want it?” His breath ghosts against your lips, tone teasing -- he knows you do.
“I do.” You’re breathless, chest heaving.
“Then why not?”
And that’s all you get before his lips are pressing against yours, hard and full of all the passion he’d been keeping at bay since the first time he saw you two years ago. You let out a muffled ‘mmph!’ sound against his lips, pressing yourself into him gasping softly when he nibbles against your bottom lip; he takes the opportunity to let his tongue slip into your mouth. 
Eren’s hands make quick work of your bikini, undoing the straps and letting both your tops and bottoms flow to the floor, earning a soft chuckle from him, “So flimsy, this thing -- you knew it wouldn’t cover you enough, maybe you wanted me to notice you, huh? Wanted me to take my chances?”
You can’t deny it and he knows it, instead looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “I-I did, I -- I always do, Eren, I always want your atten--”
You’re cut off by his fingers rubbing circles on your clit and your mouth falls open, a soft whimper tumbling out with it. No one has touched you like this in so long, especially no one with fingers as skilled as his -- for a second you think about how many girls he’s probably done this with but push it to the back of your mind, not wanting to bring that up now. 
“So wet,” His words come out in a groan, and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment, because you’re soaked, the tension from earlier and what little bit of foreplay you two had done making it easy enough for him to work two fingers into you right off the bat, “Fuck, just had a baby and you’re still this fucking tight? Shit.”
He scissors them into you while you whimper, your hands flying up to clutch at his biceps and arch up into him. Eren’s thumb is rubbing right against your clit while he splits you open on his fingers and you can do nothing but babble, teary eyes flitting up to meet his, “W-want -- mmph -- your c-cock, please, please.”
You can tell that he’s caught off guard for a second, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly before they glaze over, darkening -- he towers above you, leaning down only to whisper in your ear, “Gotta make you cum first, yeah? Let’s not get so eager, okay mommy?”
The title makes your eyes snap wide open and you gasp, feeling the orgasm that had been sneaking up on you crash over you like a tidal wave -- you can hear Eren mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath, but he sounds so far away, the shame of getting off to a teen boy calling you ‘mommy’ filling all your senses at once. It sounded so degrading, so condescending, and you’re embarrassed at how hard it made you clench.
“Oh, mommy liked that, hm?” His voice is still distant as he nudges your legs open farther so he can step between them, and you feel him sliding his cock through your folds, both of you groaning when the flushed head catches your clit, “Maybe I should make you a mommy again, huh? Fill this tight little cunt up and give you a little brat of our own.” 
He picks you up and settles you atop the counter, then, making sure your cunt is perfectly in line with his aching cock.
You gasp at that, an embarrassingly loud whine leaving your lips as you try to grind down against him, “N-no…” you try to mutter out weakly, but your body betrays you, cunt jolting and fluttering when he smacks the head of his cock against your clit.
“Y’sure? You’re creamin’ like you want me to,” Eren’s voice is gruff and strained while he positions his cock at your entrance, hissing as he pushes in -- it’s a tight fit, even with how wet you are, and he fucking loves it. 
He hears you whimper, though, and knows it must hurt -- as a reprieve he pushes his thumb past your lips, smirking while he watches you suck weakly on it before he presses it to your clit, rubbing slow circles as he does, attempting to coax you through the pain of taking such a thick cock. 
When he finally bottoms out he swoops his head down to take your nipple in his mouth, nipping at the pert bud and sucking it, hard -- you’re already too dumb to realize what he’s doing but when you do your head immediately shoots up from its previous position against the mirror, remembering that oh fuck, you’ve been breastfeeding Maria for weeks, you’re gonna fucking leak--
And then you feel it, the first spurt of milk into Eren’s mouth -- it feels so good, relieves the pressure from your aching tits, but makes you whine out in embarrassment all the same, an arm coming up to shield your eyes from his gaze as if it’ll make you invisible.
You feel Eren twitch inside you and groan low in his throat at the same time, the hand that was previously on your clit flying up to toy with your other breast, rolling your nipple in his fingers and squeezing ‘till he feels milk dribble out and onto his hand. 
He pulls off only to look up at you, smirk devilish, “God, forgot you could do that -- ah ah, take your arm off, mommy, c’mon, don’t you wanna give me a reward for bein’ so good to you? I’m a good boy, mommy, aren’t I? Don’t I deserve it?” He’s laving at your nipple the entire time, licking up the little streams of milk that pour from your tender nipples.
You nod, then, looking down at him with glassy eyes, your little hole clenching down around him, silently begging him to start moving, “Y-you do -- you do deserve it, baby, p-please.” It’s almost like you don’t even pick up on his downright mean tone, mocking you -- or maybe you do, and it’s just making you even more soaked.
Regardless, he flashes you a grin before swooping back down to suck full force on your nipple, at the same time slamming inside of you and setting a bruising pace from the beginning. You have to bite your hand to muffle the scream it tears from you, and even then it’s still loud, ringing off the marble walls and mixing with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass.
“Feel good, mommy? God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, shit, gonna fill you up so good, gonna keep you nice and full of milk forever, babygirl--”
“Eren! What the fuck are you doing in there? Get the fuck out here, we’re playing football!” Your son’s voice pierces through the door, paired with heavy knocks that sound like he’s about to break the door down. 
Your mouth opens in a surprised yelp, but Eren’s hand is clamping over your mouth before you can get the chance to make a sound. His thrusts slow, going deep and hard and turning your brain to mush. 
“‘M comin’, asshole, told you I had to take a leak -- I’ll be out soon, alright?”
“God -- fine, whatever, but hurry the fuck up!” Marco sounds like he’s turning around and getting ready to walk away before he stops, just outside the door, “And if you see my mom, can you tell us to bring out some snacks? I can’t find her anywhere.” 
Eren has to hold back the laugh he feels bubbling up in his chest, settling instead for a smug smile and a nod that Marco can’t even see, “No problem, man -- I’ll see if I can find her.”
Marco mutters out a quick thanks before he’s jogging outside to meet the rest of the boys again, and Eren looks down at you with a small shake of his head, a disappointed sigh leaving his lips while he runs his hand through his messy hair, “Guess we have to continue this later, yeah princess? Don’t want Marco to see his precious mom getting fucked like the whore she really is.”
You nod absentmindedly, truly too fucked out to care about his comments, even whining at the loss of cock -- you were so close, so close to an orgasm you hadn’t been able to achieve in months. 
What if he doesn’t even want you after this? What if he thinks it was a mistake (it was), one you couldn’t make again? What if you were just a conquest to him? What if --
As he’s pulling his trunks back on he looks at you with a raised brow, almost as if he can read your mind, before he’s striding back over to you, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and running his big hands up and down your sides.
“Don’t look so disappointed, yeah? The boys and I are sleeping over tonight, remember?” He speaks into your neck, the sensations combined with his words making you shiver, “I didn’t get to cum either, and I’m not gonna be satisfied ‘till I see that pretty hole leaking ‘cause of me.” 
Then he’s pulling back, eyeing you once more before reaching forward to take your breast in his hand again, squeezing until a small dribble of milk leaks out and you groan, “Keep ‘em nice and full for me, ‘kay mommy? You know how hungry I get.”*
And with that he’s heading out, leaving you to gaze after him, eyes trailing his body and whimpering at how perfect he is. You gaze down at yourself, trails of milk leaking down your abdomen and slick covering both your thighs and the counter below you.
You’re a fucking mess.
But you get up, still, not daring to gaze at yourself in the mirror as you pull your swimsuit and cover up back on, suddenly feeling very, very exposed.
Can’t dwell on it now, though. You’ve got snacks to prepare.
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tagging (lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future works!) ♡ @sems-diarie @nanamimizz @ringpop-poppy @izukine @odmlevis @wakatvshi 
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jae-ren · 6 months ago
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reiner out of reach, who's dating your family member who you've hated forever. so you fuck him for some revenge!
info: reiner's marrying your aunt, who you hate on account of her ruining your parents marriage when you were a child. and so now, you decide it's your turn to play homewrecker. cw: infidelity, mean aunt, revenge trope, dressing room sex, exhibitionism, praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, age gap, daddy kink, soft dom rich reiner, cunnilingus (f. receiving), thigh riding, finger sucking, a bit of breeding and corruption, porn with a bit of plot, a touch of pseudo-cest, lapslock because this was supposed to be a drabble but i went crazy > . < an: wow. drama-rama request out here. i think this is way back from when i was doing drunk requests lmao i meant to finish this ages ago but it's been sitting in my drafts because i'm a silly goose, so the tonality might shift since i wrote it at difft moods and times. anyway, enjoy my dearies i have to write more of reiner what a fuckin' hunka hunka dilf <3
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you sigh, swirling your drink around in your cup, cubes of ice clinking against the glass. i don't want to be here, you think, closing your eyes while internally groaning, feeling your dark thoughts gather like clouds in your head ready to burst open with rain.
"penny for your thoughts?" asks a deep voice that jolts your attention right away.
you open your eyes. and the sight that greets you, the sight that matches the masculine tones of the voice that brought you out of your mind -
is a sight to behold.
tall and broad shouldered, a tan and muscular man stands before you. his blond hair is closely cropped, but a few strands of loose locks curl and frame the top of his face, nestled over arched eyebrows.
"just a penny?" you finally ask. "that's pocket change."
he laughs, throwing his head back, a booming burst of brightness in his laughter. immediately, your worries, your annoyance, everything fades away.
who was this man? and why had you only just met him?
the man holds his hand out, and only then do you notice his expensive looking watch. definitely a designer brand as its insignia, gold decoration, and leather cuff manage to be both ornately decorated in a simplistic way that isn't too overbearing. it's a message, though. that he's well-off, and most likely much, much, much older than you.
you lick your lips, still looking at the watch.
and then, he slips his watch off, and before you can say anything, he's got his hands around your wrist - his hands so big that even just one of his hands could be two of yours - and is clasping his heavy watch over yours. it's much too big for your wrist, and hangs loosely.
the seconds between that action and his eyes meeting yours are simultaneously infinite and ephemeral at once.
you smirk, finding your footing again when you hear the tick of the watch hands shuffling. "expensive ass watch for my thoughts, then?"
"as luck would have it, i am happy to provide whatever i can to hear the thoughts of a beautiful woman."
you preen under his compliment, and decide that maybe you should tell him. after all, he seems like one of the only normal ones here.
"i just don't want to be here," you admit, downing your drink in one gulp before continuing. you lick a droplet that's about to escape with your tongue, and you see his eyes trace the movement. "i absolutely despise my aunt and the last thing i want is to - shit, here she comes."
you force a smile on your face, fury burning bright beneath you. this was the woman responsible for the dissolving of your parents marriage, all because she wanted to show her step-sister, your mother, that she was "boss," if you remembered that childhood memory clearly. and you did. very clearly, remembering your bitch of an aunt and her evil smirk.
for this homewrecker, you had suffered. and you were still suffering, having to show up to her engagement party against your will. she was years younger than your mother, so it wasn't a terribly bad time for her to get married, but - the point stood that she had ruined the first part of your life. you had only come because it would break your grandmother's heart to see her only grandchild not supporting the family. she didn't know what your aunt had done, as your mother had just cleanly cut contact without any explanation.
your aunt exclaims your name, her voice full of false sincerity, and hugs you distantly as if she couldn't bear to touch you.
"i'm so glad you've made it! this party wouldn't be complete without family," she says in a simpering voice.
you resist the urge to roll your eyes. "mother sends her regards."
your aunt smirks. "oh, is her hip still hurting? struggles of old age."
you gape at the audacity. "give it just a few more years, and i'm sure you'll understand the struggles well."
the man clears his throat, raising his now empty hand up to his mouth.
your aunt startles. "reiner! i see you've met my ... niece. i hate calling her that, you know, since we look like sisters."
you can't help the titter that leaves you. "really? my friends told me my grandmother looked younger than most when i showed them a picture of you." it was a made up story to poke at her, as you'd never show your friends a picture of her, but not entirely impossible. "you'll be amazed how important sunscreen can be for wrinkles, auntie."
you could be venomous, in the face of a toxic snake.
your aunt's jaw clenches. "i'll talk to my dermatologist. anyway, i'm glad you've met my fiancé. reiner's the best, isn't he?"
and all of a sudden, your venom disappears, replaced by confusion that spreads over your entire body. the storm in your mind that's been building is ready to pour.
this man. this beautiful man. with your aunt. what in the hell?! you exclaim, cursing fate.
"i'm reiner braun," he says, extending a hand. he shakes the hand with his watch on it, and his touch is warm, his hand heavy. the storm clouds part briefly as you lose yourself in his golden gaze.
you give him your name, saying your name slowly on account of still being lost in his gaze.
"well, now that the two of you have been introduced, i think it's time for me to take reiner away," you aunt says. you swear you see the flicker of a flame in her eyes when she notes you wearing reiner's watch.
"reiner! that's a forty thousand dollar watch. and she's a college graduate with no concept of money! what were you thinking!" your aunt screeches. when she notes the raise of your eyebrow, she consoles herself.
"honey," she spits at you, failing to sound as sweet as the word. "please give it back to him."
"i didn't take it in the first place," you say, rolling your eyes. "he gave it to me." you unclasp the wrist. you slip into reiner's hands, being purposeful with the dragging of your fingers against his skin.
your aunt bristles physically, her shoulders trembling. your actions, your words have her seething. "it's worth more than a semester at your college, you know."
you nearly laugh - her skills at insulting you were subpar. you'd heard better in stories and shows.
"i was on a merit scholarship," you say, exasperated, using the tone of someone dealing with an immature toddler. "seeing as you barely got in, i think you should be prouder of me, auntie."
she sneers, and leaves in a huff, unable to retort back at you.
reiner looks at you awkwardly post your aunt's exit. his eyes rival the sun even in this moment of pause.
and in that moment of pause, you make a quick decision.
you decide that you'll be the one to gaze into the rays of his eyes every morning. you'll be the one to feel the warmth of the morning every day. you'll be the one who makes those golden eyes darken in lust. it's going to be you.
i can be venomous, in the face of a toxic snake, you repeat, giving reiner your best smile, showing him the pearly whites of your teeth, cocking your head teasingly so strands of hair float around your face beautifully.
"let's start again, shall we?"
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starting again could've mean a lot of things. at that moment, it had meant a reintroduction, a promise of getting to know each other more.
and get to know each other, you did. you learned that he was actually ten years older than you; that his wealth was an effect of him being a top student at his college resulting in him getting recruited by a well known finance company where he had a lead role in now; that he liked the smell after rain the most and that your perfume reminded him of that; that his hands were soft because he had bought a gift set of pretty hand lotions for his mother only to find out she was allergic to them and so he began using them instead; that he liked to engage in snarky banter, discuss complex ideas with you as much as he wanted to joke around stupidly; and finally, that he had met your aunt, a few years older than him, at a conference where she had spilled coffee on his shirt and anxiously began helping him clean up. knowing your aunt, it was probably a well intentioned move to get him to directly notice her.
and so, because of reiner and your determination to give your aunt a taste of her own medicine, you had been coming to all the pre-wedding events, from cake testing to venue deciding.
each and every time, you wore something your aunt would never be caught dead in. that is to say, something a mix of elegant and sultry at once: swooping necklines that tease at the swell of your breasts but don't dip all the way, stockings covering your legs but also sheer on the pull of your skin, most so at the curves of your thighs and your ass if you bent down to strategically pick something up in reiner's line of sight.
and, oh goodness, did reiner appreciate those attempts. you've seen him adjust his pants several times through your manipulations. you've heard your name be yelled out when you passed his room in your grandmother's house, where everyone was being hosted, but he still hadn't approached you.
it couldn't be you who made the first move to seize the sun - it couldn't. for the proper revenge, it had to be reiner.
and at the wedding dress fitting, it was he who approached you. he who fucked you silly.
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"ms. ackerman," you call, using a kind and gentle voice for the owner of the dress shop. she has been dealing with your aunt all evening, and you feel terribly bad to watch this sweet woman suffer so.
"call me kuchel," she says, beaming at you, the only one who has been kind to her. "what do you need?"
your face heats up. "i'd like to try on some dresses myself," you say. the splendor of dressing up as a bride hasn't escaped you, and you need some freedom from worrying about how to seduce reiner, a man who seems to be utterly loyal to your aunt.
"oh, go ahead, darling," kuchel says, waving a hand. "though, fair warning, the only who can help you right now is my son, levi. he's only visiting for the wedding, but one of my workers had an emergency, and so he's-"
you interrupt her anxious ramblings. "it's completely fine. i'll go find him." you exit the bustling room, searching for a boy of kuchel's likeness, of dark hair and slate eyes.
and you find him, except you're shocked to find a man instead of a boy.
"hi, are you levi?" you ask, slowly approaching the man.
"i am. do you need anything?" he asks, frostily. well. not frostily, but not warmly either. it's just more on that side of tone.
"yes, as a matter of fact. i need help choosing wedding dresses to try on, kuchel gave me permission," you say, shuffling awkwardly under his gaze.
"kuchel, huh? she gave you permission to call her that?"
you frown. "as a matter of fact, yes-"
"levi," comes a voice. "ignore her." it's reiner. you whip towards him, annoyed at him for speaking for you.
"ignore me? i clearly need help!" you exclaim.
"yeah, and he won't be helping you," reiner says calmly as levi exits, clearly not wanting to be there between the two of you.
"why not?!" you're incredulous. the reason for you seeking stress relief is also holding you back from finding that relief.
"because he's one of my groomsmen, and your aunt specifically told me to keep you away from them."
you roll your eyes, letting a huff of laughter escape you. "and you're going to listen?"
a flash of something in his eyes, amplified by his dark lashes lowering and hiding the bright flecks of light brown in his eyes.
"of course. men are not to be trusted."
"and you are?" you put your hands at your hips, challenging.
"i'm about to become a part of your family. you should respect me," reiner commands.
you bristle at his tone. "not if i can help it." you angrily walk away from him, remembering your efforts in vain to end this wedding. you grab dresses at random, letting your instincts choose a few, and walk into a secluded dressing room in the far back of the shop.
you've taken off your silk shirt quickly, leaving you just in your lace bra when reiner walks in. he pauses briefly when he sees you shirtless, but continues in calmly. he shuts the door behind him, and the lock clicks closed.
you'd forgotten to lock it yourself. perhaps because of anger clouding your thoughts. perhaps because you were hoping reiner would follow you in, pin you against the door and-
reiner calls your name. "we need to talk," he says.
you don't say anything. only, while making direct eye contact with the embers of his eyes, you unclasp your bra and slip it off, letting it tumble to the floor, your breasts in clear view in reiner's vision, especially due to his towering height.
reiner swallows, adam's apple bobbing.
"i'm not here to talk," you say, undoing the button of your jeans. you shimmy out of it, turning around to have reiner stare at the cups of your ass be pushed by the waistband as you struggle to get it over their curves.
"let me help," reiner says. he walks close to you, heels of his dress shoes clicking on the tile flooring. he hooks his fingers at your waistband, thumbs curving over the skin of your ass, calloused thumbs rough against your soft skin.
oh, you think, feeling yourself grow wet. is this where it happens? is this finally it?
except, after your jeans are off and reiner's folded it neatly onto a chair in the room, he steps away from you again.
he's staring at your body. clad in nothing but lacy panties that would've matched your bra if you still had it on, you're bare for him. the thong doesn't hide much. in fact, it barely hides anything at all, a sliver of fabric just serving as décor over your vagina.
"well?" you ask, crossing your arms. the cold has made your nipples peak. you're too much in a state of shock to recognize the absolute absurdity of this situation right now, though there's a voice in your head that feels like the ringing of church bells. church bells you hopefully won't have to hear if you succeed.
"i thought you said you're not here to talk," reiner says, loosening his tie. it hangs loose on his neck. he unbuttons a few of the top buttons of his shirt, not taking much off but still revealing parts of his well built and tanned body.
he is achilles.
and you may just be his heel, you realize, staring at the length protruding out of his pants.
your chest has grown tight, as has your thighs attempting to crisscross while you are standing. you've never seen this happen in detail, him changing his position or his pants to hide it before you can take a look.
"it's not like you're leaving," you say, not replying to his previous comment. "wanna fuck me here, is that it?" you're tired of holding back the pretense.
and oh, the rewards of letting go: his golden eyes narrowing to slits, pupils dilating, a feral grin on his face revealing his sharp canines that you want him to bite into you.
"aw, sweetheart," reiner says, stalking towards you. he smells of citrus and early mornings, like walking in an orange grove under the rays of the sun brightening his own eyes to match. "is that a request?"
you steady yourself when his hands wrap around your waist when all your legs want to do is give way to being carried.
"a question. you'd think a man of your age would know how to recognize that," you say, challenging tone in your voice.
"and you'd think a girl of your age would know to respect her elders." reiner leans down to whisper. his lips skim your ears. "respect her future uncle."
your lips part at his illicit words. where has this reiner been hiding all this time?
you decide to challenge him more.
"not if you don't marry her," you say, holding your head high next to his mouth.
"and why not?" reiner bites onto your ear, sharp teeth digging into the softness of your earlobe, dragging as he releases it with a suck. his large hand holds the back of your head as his mouth travels down from your ears to your neck to your shoulders.
"mmm," you say, the sensations of his mouth on your sensitive skin making you heady. "because of what we're doing right now."
"it doesn't feel like we," reiner says, pausing.
you blink in surprise, realizing what he's hinting at. you wonder if you should tease him and not give in, but that wonder quickly dissipates as reiner lifts his head up to face you directly again.
you look into the golden skies of his eyes - and without a doubt in your mind, you reach up towards capturing his lips in yours.
they're soft when your tongue skims over it, the pads of your lips brushing against his. but his teeth and tongue are roughly moving against you. you grab onto his hair, raising your arms around his neck atop his shoulders.
at your deepening kiss, he growls into your mouth, like something more was just unlocked within, something animalistic. teeth clashing, tongues tangling, you can't get enough of this man.
reiner parts from you to breathe. his lips are glossy with spit - yours and his combined, you note with a thrill traveling up your spine - and his hair is ruffled. you've gotten a taste, have begun to make this man his sun gold eyes yours.
"that it, pretty boy?" you say, flirty lilt to your voice, knowing this was the way to incite him. "i think you can do more than that."
reiner sputters, little pieces of words that slur together. it is so unlike him it's adorable.
"pretty boy?" he finally manages.
"oh, c'mon," you say, grinning. but before you can make good on whatever teasing argument you were stringing together - reiner leaps on you, shoving you against the wall of the dressing room. your technique worked better than planned
the bones of your back felt the impact of hitting the wall, but whatever pain that might've generated give way to pleasure easily as reiner tilts your chin up to kiss you deeply, lifting his leg to support his hold on you. it connects with your still clothed cunt.
"mmph!" reiner swallows your moan as his knee prods your folds. you release yourself from his lips, needing to breathe, needing to groan as you position yourself better on his thigh. thick and muscular, the fabric of his pants and your panties along with your quickly speeding motions provide much needed friction.
you're beginning to thrust your hips wildly, without any control. when suddenly reiner presses you further against the wall, stilling your hips.
"ah-ah, beautiful," reiner says. "let me do the honors." to your immense shock, he sinks to the floor. he hooks his fingers against the bands of your panties, before pulling them down low.
"what a pretty pussy," reiner says. "perfect for a pretty girl." the cool air of the dressing room hits your hot centre, but even that sensation is overwhelmed by reiner's warm and prodding tongue flicking your clit this way and that.
his experienced machinations get the best of you quickly, and you're cumming before your shock has worn off. it happened so fast you almost wouldn't know it had come to this. but it's so overwhelming. even more so as reiner keeps at it, keeps pushing his tongue against your sensitive clit even as you're moaning from your orgasm.
"reiner, please," you beg breathlessly. "i can't take it anymore!" your legs are wobbly, your body cold from the chills traveling all over you. and worst of fucking all, your cunt is clenching around emptiness - and it's not stopping, either, as reiner continues to tongue fuck you.
"r-reiner!" you call again, clenching your eyes shut as the waves of your orgasm intensify. you've never felt this way before. you swear, you're beginning to see colors. maybe it's from how tight you're clenching your eyes, but there's also a definite chance that something about him and his effortless motions are contributing.
reiner finally stops just as you're about to call out his name again. your chest rises and falls rapidly.
"what's that, beautiful? calling my name?"
you're still catching your breath. he laughs, his deep chuckle filling the small room.
"tell me what you want," reiner says, standing. his hands are at the buckle of his belt. "and maybe i'll let you have it."
you swallow tightly, unwilling to be the one to ask for it. again: it has to be him. reiner watches you deeply, face registering as serious if not for the smallest quirk of his lips.
one hand moves up to your face to cup it. his thumb - thick and heavy - rests on your lips. he presses down on your lower lip, parting your mouth. he places his thumb inside slowly. and in lieu of talking, you stare at him through your lashes, sucking slowly, cheeks caving in with your motions. you relish in the lust hiding in his gem like eyes, twinkling like topaz.
reiner removes his thumb with a pop, his pupils dilated to the point where his golden eyes have transformed into a dark amber.
"so," reiner says, his voice deep and gravelly. "does my pretty little whore want to be fucked? or does she-"
"fuck me, daddy," you finally breathe, unable to stand your self inflicted torture anymore. you're aching to be filled, still feeling that emptiness from your orgasm with your walls having nothing to squeeze onto.
reiner smirks, golden eyes narrowing, eyes creasing. "daddy, hmm? not uncle?"
you turn away, face hot. "not yet," you say. "maybe not ever." you don't look at him.
"maybe just for you, i'll go through with it," he says. you hear the undoing of his belt, the rushing of fabric downwards. "but then again - maybe just for you, i won't."
you turn back to look at him post those words, but become distracted. his pants are off, his fat cock raised high just for you. it's thick and flushed with a leaky tip that almost as you rushing to angle your hips and sink down before he can see your movements coming. but ... he's so -
"big!" you blurt.
reiner's smirk turns into a grin, though the hungry nature of it is still there, still hiding in the gleam in his eyes, the way his tongue skirts out to lick his lips at your flustered self.
"where's the brave girl from moments before, hmm?" reiner asks, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it over your slit.
you whimper, leaning back against the wall.
"i think she'd be able to take it," he says, slightly pushing the tip in.
"i-" you gulp. "i can take it." you blink rapidly. "please, reiner. please, i can take it!" you're begging, blabbering. his cock isn't even inside you yet and you're already stupid for him.
reiner steps real close to you, his loosened silk tie landing between your tits. with every rise and fall of your chest, the tie slips more in between.
"you're going to have to," he finally says, before roughly pushing into you. you gasp, or maybe you scream - but you can't really bring yourself to care about the distinction. this man, he's got your body acting just for him. he thrusts into you fast and hard, skin slapping as your slick fills the room with sloppy squelches.
it's that thought, only when you think about what particular room is being filled with these noises when you realize where you are. a fucking dressing room!
"why'd you stop, beautiful?" reiner asks, cooing. he slows his thrusts down into silky motions against your hips, no longer rutting into you.
"they'll hear me," you whisper, face hot as a flame.
"they've already heard you at this point," reiner says, chuckling. he presses a ferocious kiss into your lips, his teeth pulling on your lower lip as he pulls back. "so you might as well let them know you're enjoying yourself."
"who's them?" you say weakly. reiner's movements are getting fast and rough again as his hips snap against yours, his pelvic bone hitting your clit, sending sparks up your spine each time.
"everyone here," reiner breathes. "your family. your friends. the ackermans. best of all - your aunt."
"my aunt?" you say confusedly, looking down. you'd forgotten your entire point of wanting reiner to be the one to take initiative.
reiner tilts your face back up to face him. "oh, sweetheart. i knew what your plan was. wasn't too hard to connect the dots."
"w-wait!"
"but i don't mind," reiner says, not letting you apologize or whatever it was you were going to do. "pretty young thing that you are - you can use me all you want."
"reiner!" you don't know if the exclamation is because you want to explain yourself, or because your latest building orgasm is making you even more delirious on his cock.
"but, only as long as i can use you," reiner breathes, sinking his face low to rest his head on your shoulders, in the crook between your neck and shoulder blades. "pretty little princess, how's it feel to be ruined by my cock? still thinking about revenge?"
"no, no - it's so so good," you cry. "i - i - oh, reiner!" you decide you'll have plenty a chance to explain after. after you orgasm, that is.
"gonna cum on my cock?"
you nod vigorously.
"go ahead, beautiful," he says, lifting you higher to go even deeper than he already was, hitting your cervix. "cum."
and with that word, with his rocking hips.... your eyes roll back, your hair stands on end, your throat is about to be split open as raw as your cunt was - and then, there it is.
the wash of freezing waves all over your skin, the zapping of mini shocks over your nervous system. your body fuckin' sings, and it's to this man's chorus of commands, urging you to let go.
and you aren't sure for how long you continue this way. his tongue had already taught you how good he could overstimulate you. and now his cock was teaching you that he could be better. your orgasm never lasted this long with others, never by yourself with or without toys.
"fuck!" reiner whispers. "i'm-"
"you can cum inside me," you breathe, leaning back onto the wall for support when reiner's hold slackens as his own feelings of pleasure consumes him.
"i'm yours to ruin, your pretty little princess." you echo his words on purpose, coaxing him, letting him know that while revenge was a factor - it was not the driving force behind your desire.
he moans your name as he cums. it's much quieter than your symphony of screams, but you hear it and that's enough and you can't believe how much it means to you to hear your name said in his lips with ecstasy rushing through him and -
reality washes over you when he pulls out, pulls up his pants and tucks his shirt back.
so he doesn't like me anymore. he hates me. your heart is hammering. where do you go from here?
it's only when reiner hands you your bra do you realize he's not leaving you high and dry. or more accurately, low and wet.
"let's go," he says, picking up the rest of your clothes. "i have to break off a wedding in a wedding dress shop, and would really prefer to get it over with in time for our date."
"our date?" you echo dumbly as you put on your bra.
reiner hums in agreement, fixing his shirt and tie situation. "we're going on a date. and you're going to be leaking with my cum until i fuck you in the shower after, alright?"
you lick you lips, mind moving fast. you slip on your panties over your messy vagina quickly, before moving to get to reiner. you suck on a spot on his throat, making sure to create a visible hickey.
you clear your throat. you turn away from him, beginning to put on the rest of your clothes.
"so they know that you're mine," you say, after a beat of silence. "that the golden skies of your eyes are only for me to look at."
there is still silence. after you finish dressing, you turn back to reiner. he's looking at you oddly.
"and for how long do you want that? to have my eyes on you and only you?" his voice is gentle, a whisper of want he won't voice truly. but you know what he's asking.
"for as long as you want," you admit. it's up to him, because you're already too far gone on this man. "for as many days as you want me, and then some more.
a beat of silence.
"i should buy you these dresses," he finally says, motioning to the untouched white dresses you never tried on. "since we might get some use out of them."
you gape as he winks at you, picking up the dresses.
"which one," he begins saying, "do you think i'd enjoy taking off you the most?"
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reblogs are appreciated. let me know what you liked and didn't like so i can be a better writer for you. toodles, loves <3
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maatryoshkaa · 7 months ago
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between the lines | lee minho
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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔
✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:
In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.
✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader
✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans
✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k
✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.
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Ah, Valentine’s Day.
Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.
You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.
“Hey, watch ou—”
The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.
Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.
“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”
The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”
Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”
A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—
“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).
Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.
“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.
“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”
“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”
Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.
It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.
But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.
Talk about a reality check.
As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.
“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.
What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.
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“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.
Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.
“You said he’d be in here!”
“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”
You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.
‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’
A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…
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“The library’s closing.”
You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”
A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.
“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”
“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”
“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”
You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.
Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”
You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”
“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”
It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”
He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.
You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”
He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”
That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”
“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”
You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”
Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”
“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.
“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”
You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.
Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”
Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.
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To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.
Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.
“Looking for someone?”
Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”
“I—sorry?”
The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”
Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.
“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.
She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.
Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.
“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”
He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.
Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”
Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”
A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”
“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”
“Can I help you with anything?”
The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.
“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.
Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”
“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.
But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”
“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.
“It’s one of my favourite lines.”
The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.
“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.
As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”
There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”
You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.
“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.
“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”
Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”
Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—
“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.
“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”
The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”
“That’s because the due date is coming up.”
“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”
You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”
His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”
With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.
You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.
Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.
Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.
And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.
He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.
Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.
You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.
These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.
He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”
“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”
Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”
You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.
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With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.
Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”
It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”
With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.
At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.
“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.
Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.
Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.
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“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.
“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”
She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”
You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.
When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.
“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”
“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.
As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”
Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.
He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”
Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.
“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”
Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”
After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—
Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.
“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.
“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”
Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”
Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.
“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”
With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.
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It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.
It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.
“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”
“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.
“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.
“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”
You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.
“Give me my book back.”
You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”
You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”
“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”
“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.
“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”
Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.
“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”
Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.
Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.
Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…
You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…
“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”
Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.
As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”
He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”
Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?
In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”
Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”
A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”
The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”
“Y/N—”
“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”
Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”
“Would you be happy?”
The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.
“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.
Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”
You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…
“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”
You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.
“It’s a very good poem.”
“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”
He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”
Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”
“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”
“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.
Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”
“Wh-wha—”
“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”
Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.
“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”
The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.
“'Again?'”
Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”
“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”
Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”
Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”
“A corner store card. With—”
“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”
He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.
“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.
“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”
“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.
“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”
He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.
“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.
“Wh—”
“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”
Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”
“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”
“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”
“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”
You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”
“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”
“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.
“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”
Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.
Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”
There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.
Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.
The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.
Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.
When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”
He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”
Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”
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“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”
That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”
The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”
Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”
Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”
“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.
Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”
The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”
As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.
“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.
You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.
“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”
“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”
“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”
His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.
“Can it be a happy ending?”
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1K notes · View notes
huenjin · 11 months ago
Text
and they were roommates.
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summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.
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pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.
genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au
rating — 18+
word count — 11k words.
note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu. 
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smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.
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"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"
"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."
You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.
"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."
You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high. 
"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"
"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa. 
Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.
It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts. 
And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him. 
"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.
"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"
Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"
"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again. 
"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.
"Yeah?" 
"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting." 
"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head. 
"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.
"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."
"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."
"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.
You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.
Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.
You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"
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"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"
Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.
You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.
He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"
"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."
"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."
You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."
"Did you say anything, Y/N?" 
"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."
"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.
"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."
"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.
"Fine."
"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.
"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"
"Then stop teasing me!"
"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."
"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.
Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?
This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!
Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air. 
He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"
"What line?" 
He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"
Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"
Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him. 
When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?
"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."
"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"
"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"
"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you. 
"Minho?"
"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"
You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.
He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain. 
Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.
"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments. 
"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"
"Not anymore."
"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"
You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position. 
"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"
"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp. 
"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now. 
"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."
"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"
"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up. 
"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.
"For what?"
"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."
You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.
Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?
Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.
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Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.
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It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains. 
"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"
Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much. 
That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.
"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."
Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.
"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.
Fuck, he loves your domesticity.
"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."
"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain. 
"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.
"And so?"
"You could tear it again!"
"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."
Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.
"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"
"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.
"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"
"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."
He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."
"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.
"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"
"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"
"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."
Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?
"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"
"Yeah?"
"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"
You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."
"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."
"It's not PVC, Sungie."
Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.
"Are you not going to tell her anything?"
"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains. 
"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."
"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"
"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"
"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."
"I'm agnostic." You frown.
"More reasons for you to say it easily!"
You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."
"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."
"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."
Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."
"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."
"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"
"Can I?"
"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.
"I'm coming over tonight."
"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy. 
Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.
"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"
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Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️
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Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder. 
It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.
Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.
"Did it finally hit him?"
"I think?" You whisper back.
"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.
He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.
"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."
"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."
Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink. 
You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.
"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"
"About?"
"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.
"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning,  "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"
"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"
"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"
He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.
Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."
"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.
"I'll drop a word."
"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."
"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."
"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.
"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.
"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.
"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.
"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.
"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."
"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."
"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.
You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?
"Fuck."
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Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited! 
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Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.
Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.
"Minho, what—"
His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.
"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."
Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.
So far, it's working like magic. 
Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.
"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.
You are fully justified for falling in love with this man. 
A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.
And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.
Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake. 
You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.
It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”
Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.
Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.
Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."
Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,
“I want you.”
Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.
“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.
“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while. 
You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.
You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.
You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him. 
His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.
Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster. 
“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.
“You know what else is perfect, baby?”
“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.
“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.
He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.
His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 
His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.
“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.
Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. 
His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.
His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.
You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.
Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.
It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. 
Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.
Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.
And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.
Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.
“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”
“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”
You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.
“Can I?”
“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly. 
You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.
Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.
Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. 
You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together. 
He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”
You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.
“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.
“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans. 
Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger. 
Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.
“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.
“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”
You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.
“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”
You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”
He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth. 
“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder. 
His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.
“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body. 
“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”
Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.
You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been. 
Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.
“Minho?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks?”
“For what?” He looks at you quizzically. 
“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.
"Should have come to me," he laughs.
"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."
"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."
"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”
Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes. 
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”
“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.
Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.
You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.
“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."
You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.
As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”
You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.
As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.
As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”
He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.
The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you. 
You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.
“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.
“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.
Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”
“Then, come.”
Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”
Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.
Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.
A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.
Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.
Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him. 
“Hey,” you say and smile. 
Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”
He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology. 
“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend." 
You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"
"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”
“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”
You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."
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Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️
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marvel-diaries · 5 months ago
Text
The Office
Pairing; CEO+Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Summary; You and Bucky fuck for the very first time in his office at the company’s building.
Word Count; 4574
Warnings; NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, undefined age-gap, “cheating”, language, cursing, Sir!kink, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation, hair pulling, oral (male receiving), face-fucking, spitting, fingering, teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids.
Authors Note; I can’t get enough of CEO+DBF!Bucky so this will be the first of many fics like this! I hope people will like it and be interested in more! Jesus I need to bathe in holy water now. Hope you all enjoy <3
Main Masterlist || CEO+DBF Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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Bucky had begun texting you while sitting in a meeting with your dad and some of the company's other employees. You weren't doing anything important, just at home reading a book, so you were more than happy to text back and forth with him. The meeting was relatively standard and straightforward, it wasn't too much of an importance, so it allowed Bucky to talk with you without feeling guilty while the rest of them sorted out the details. Once in a while, he would chime in with his views and opinions. The text messages were pretty innocent, to begin with. The standard “hello” and “what you are up to” was exchanged between the two of you before more of the dirtier stuff ensued.
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You thought about it for a second before you sent him an answer. You and Bucky had started fucking around a few weeks ago. You had met him when your parents had friends and colleagues over for a grand party like they had most of the time. You had just moved back home after living on your own in another city for three years, so this was your first time seeing Bucky in person. You had heard a lot about him and seen pictures when he started working with your dad, and they had formed a tight friendship, but you had never met him in person. He was even more handsome than what the pictures could show when you got introduced to him, and you had started to take a liking to him instantly. He had done as well because not even a week after you met, you and he had started a relationship. To begin with, it was only fucking around, but as the weeks went by, you felt like there may be more to it; sparks were felt between the two of you. None of you had done anything about it yet, mainly because it wouldn’t be received well by the public, your family most likely would disapprove and because of his wife Natalie and her whole family.
Which you didn’t find wrong at all that he was “cheating” on her with you. They both hated each other’s guts and would more than anything like getting a divorce. Bucky had told you that she had cheated on him multiple times, and he had done as well with her, but they played the happy couple when they were out in public because of their families. They got married at a very young age because their families are rich and powerful and wanted their kids to get together, so they are now stuck in this toxic relationship together. But soon, you and Bucky would have to decide where the next step of the relationship would go. Would you continue to sneak around, or would you form a proper relationship and come out for the whole wide world? It was only a matter of time before you needed to decide.
You and he would primarily meet up on neutral grounds. In his car or a hotel but on a few occasions, you had fucked in his or your parent's house in your room. This would be the first time you had done it where he worked; you assumed it would be in his office. It would be risky, but the thought about him taking you hard against every surface had your thighs clenching in need of him.
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A soft whimper escaped your parted lips at his promise to fuck your brains out. He was never afraid to be direct with you about his needs and feelings. He always meant what he said, and that was one of your favorite things about him. You could always trust that he would be true to his words.
It would take you about 30 minutes to get over there, so you needed to leave right now. You did a quick freshen up before you called a taxi to get you over to the company’s building. Being in the car gave you time to think this through. You weren't sure how you and he would pull this off. Everyone would see if you entered his office and then wonder what was taking so long and what in the hell you guys were doing in there. In their eyes, you and Bucky weren't even friends. You barely spoke with one another when other people were around, as not to raise any suspicion. For them, you were the boss's daughter while Bucky was his partner, and nothing was going on between you two; besides, Bucky had his “loving” wife, Natalie.
The building stood tall as you arrived. Clouds were teasing rain, and it was a bit cold. The skirt you were wearing made your body chilly, but you kept it on for Bucky's sake. You looked up at the structure before you went through the main entrance. The security guards and the workers at the reception greeted you as everyone was well aware of who you were. You all greeted them with a smile as you walked towards the elevators. Entering the elevator, you became impatient as it took its time to travel up the floors to the main offices in the building. Your legs were uneasy as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. A thin layer of sweat formed on your hairline as you came up with scenarios with how you and Bucky could get caught. You shook your head, trying to get those thoughts down. You trusted Bucky, and besides, this was something you wanted to try out.
When you arrived at the floor, and the door slid open, you saw your dad, Bucky, and some of the employees coming out of one of the conference rooms. The meeting must have just finished. As you walked over, you tried to put on a smile to mask your nervousness. None of them had seen you yet, except for Bucky. He had you in his sight out of the corner of his eye, a slight smirk on his face as he saw you strutting over. You came to stand between him and your dad.
Bucky couldn’t have been more subtle with staring you up and down; your dad was standing right there after all. His tongue darting out between his lips to wet them, clearly having an image on his head about you bent over at his mercy.
“Hi, dad! Mr. Barnes, it's nice to see you again.”
Bucky gave you a simple nod of his head, acting like he isn't just about to have his way with you in his office with your dad not having a clue about what a whore his sweet and innocent daughter is, “pleasure seeing you again.”
“Sweetheart,” your dad gave you a one-arm hug as he had a smile on his face at his daughter visiting him at work, “what are you doing here?”
“I was in the area and thought I could drop by before moving on with my day.”
“Aw, honey. I wish I could spend some time with you, but we have a meeting again in 30 minutes.”
“It's alright, dad. I'm on my way out again anyways. Have some errands to run,” you lied.
“Excuse me, sweetheart.” He turned to say something to the others. While everyone had their attention on your dad, you turned slightly towards Bucky to give him a “chill out” look. The outfit you were wearing had him on edge and excited to have you in his office as soon as possible. Since the crowd was paying attention to your dad, it allowed Bucky to give you some instructions. He leaned in a little closer to you, but not too close in case someone saw.
“Here,” he slipped you his card, the card for the private elevator he had that went from the parking lot and up to his office, “take the elevator. No one is going to see you. Also, I want you to have your panties off before you come upstairs. You got it?”
You swallowed down the lump in your throat. Your body felt hot and warm. The palms of your hands had a thin layer of sweat on them as you took the card from him. Your heart was hammering against your chest. This was really about to happen.
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Like clockwork, your dad turned around towards you again just as Bucky leaned away from your body. “Well, I'll see you when I get home later, sweetheart.” He went to hug you again, and you returned the action.
“Bye, dad. Bye, Mr. Barnes, I'll see you around.”
Everyone said their goodbyes to you before you left. You went out of the building and around it to where the cars went down into the parking lot. Once down there, you made sure that no one was around to see you before you scanned the card for the elevator. The journey up to his office gave you the opportunity to take your panties off. You held them in your hand as you almost bounced up and down in fear and excitement for what was in store for you when you reached his floor.
When the elevator reached the office, and the doors opened, you saw that Bucky was waiting for you, his back facing you. He was staring out the big windows that decorated almost his entire office room.
“Did you take your panties off as I told you to do?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He turned around so he could be met with you. His tongue wetting his lips as he beckoned with his finger for you to come over to him, “get over here now.” Not even thinking for another second, you were quick to stand by his side by the window, waiting for further instructions he had to give you.
“Give them to me,” the palm of his hand was held out for you to hand them over to him. With shaking hands, you handed them over, and he opened his suit jacket to put them in the inside pocket so he could keep a hold of them.
“Is someone going to come in?”
“Shh,” his hand came to caress the side of your face—his thumb stroking your cheek. The simple action had you relax a tiny bit. “Don't worry. I locked the door, and besides, I told them not to disturb me. Do you trust me?”
“I do, Bucky. With my life.”
“Well then,” his finger pointed down to the floor, and you knew immediately what he was getting at, “get down on your knees for me.”
In front of the window of all things?! For everyone to see? But frankly, you didn't care. Let them see it all. You would give them all a good show. Besides, they wouldn't be able to know that it's you because the next building over was some distance away. All you cared about was to have his dick in your mouth right now and nothing else.
Like second nature, you quickly sank on your knees where you had spent more than once worshiping his cock, and this wouldn't be the last one either. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire at you being so easily submissive to him. His tongue peeked out from his mouth at you on your knees for him.
His thumb traced your lips as his other hand was palming the bulge in his pants. You granted him access into your mouth as you sucked and swirled your tongue on his digit.
“I can't wait to have your lips wrapped around me, kitten. Do you want me to fuck your mouth?”
You nodded your head and released his thumb from your mouth, “please, Bucky, I want it so bad.”
Your eyes followed his hands, your lips parted, as he undid his belt and pulled down his suit pants along with his underwear. Coming face to face with his dick, ready to be sucked by you. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and looked up at him through your lashes, waiting so that he could give your permission at proceeding, knowing how much he loved it when you waited for him to provide you with a green light.
“Suck it, baby girl.”
You opened your mouth to swirl your tongue around his head before you wrapped your lips around him so you could suck on his mushroom tip, your tongue teasing him. You could see that he was becoming impatient, so you engulfed him halfway through while massaging his balls in your hand. The action had his hand fist in your hair, making a gasp being sounded against him by you, as an exhale of satisfaction escaped him.
He needed more, so with the help of his hand in your hair, he pushed his dick further into your mouth till the tip of him reached the back of your throat, making you gag around him. The vibrations from your mouth had him shiver all over. Your eyes were watering as saliva started coming out the side of your mouth. Looking directly up into his eyes as you took whatever was left of him the best you could and bobbed your head on him, watching as his eyes struggled to stay open to watch how good you were taking him down your throat.
“F-fuck. That's so good, baby. You love sucking my cock don't you, pretty girl, hm? Such a good girl for me, aren't you?”
His dirty talk turned you on, and all you wanted to do was touch yourself at his words. You released him from your hold. Saliva was hanging from your mouth, and his dick was glistening all in it. Your hand jerked him off so you could answer his question, your voice almost like honey as you spoke. The wetness from you made it easy to glide your hand effortlessly on him.
“Yes, Sir.”
A deep groan was sounded from within his chest at the nickname he loved to be called by you. You on your knees so pretty and messy for him had his dick twitch in your grasp.
“Good, baby. Look at you. Such a beautiful mess for me, kitten.”
“Only for you, Sir.”
His head leaned back some as you took him in your mouth again. Your mouth is an expert at taking the whole of him. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Do you want me to cum in your mouth, baby girl?” He asked while slowly thrusting his length in and out of it. All you could do was moan, letting him know that you wanted to taste him.
He picked up his speed and fucked your mouth, making you gag around him each time his tip tickled the back of your throat, and you loved every second of it. His hands came at the side of your face so he could hold you steady as he used your warm and wet hole as he pleased. The sloppy sounds of your mouth, your gags, and moans around him only enticed him even more to reach his end.
His thrusts became uneven, and not a second later, he came deep in your throat. Sounds of pleasure dissolved in the office space as your mouth took all that he had to offer. You swallowed around him, milking him for all that he was worth, as you moaned at his delicious taste. You didn't pull away from him until he had spilled every drop in you.
“Show me your mouth.”
Pulling away from him, you opened it to show him all of the cum. He learned down till his face was inches from you and proceeded to spit in your opening. The action had your desperate clit pulsating.
“Can you swallow all of that for me?”
Closing your mouth, you swallowed all of him, his cum and spit, and opened up once more to show him what a good girl you had been at drinking all that he gave you. His hand was petting your hair as a sign of appreciation for you being so amazing for him.
“Such a dirty girl. Was that good? You love the taste of me, don't you, doll?”
“Mhm, yes,” you responded while licking your lips. Your hand was jerking him off again as you couldn't get enough of the feel of him. Your words and actions had him lean back some.
“You've been such a good girl, and I want to give you a treat. Do you want it?”
His words went directly to your tingling clit, and you needed to push your thighs together to get some form of friction down there.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Get on all fours on the couch, with your ass facing the desk.”
You got up and walked over the few meters to the couch, taking off your skirt and sweater until you were only in your bra, and then got in the position as he had wanted from you. He went over to his desk to have a better view of you—leaning on it as his hands held the edge of it. You supported yourself on your elbows as you pushed your ass up and out, earning a groan from Bucky.
“Like this?”
“Just like that. Now touch yourself for me.”
Pushing two of your fingers inside your mouth to get them wet before your hand went underneath you to circle your aching and needy clit, letting out a sigh of relief at being able to feel something finally. You pushed the two fingers inside of you, letting out a low moan and they stretched and penetrated your tightness, closing your legs some at the feeling. It was nothing like Bucky's fingers or dick, but it would have to do for now. You started to move them in and out of your tight pussy, going at a slow pace, to begin with.
Bucky hadn't said anything yet, so he must be enjoying the show you were putting on for him. He let out a moan just as you turned your head to find him pumping his shaft while watching you intensely as you pleasured yourself. Your teeth captured your bottom lip at the sight of him.
“Fuck, kitten.”
You pulled your fingers out and started circling your clit again, whimpering as you were close to your orgasm. The two of you held eye contact as you watched each other.
“So good, Bucky.”
“You're such a good girl, baby. Showing me how you touch yourself. Is this how you look when you're in your room late at night? Touching yourself like this while thinking of me?”
“Mhm, yes.” His words made your fingers move rapidly into your tightness again, wanting to get to that sweet release you were craving desperately.
“Fuck, I'm gonna cum; please can I cum, Sir?” You pleaded, needing to get some form of relief. Tears were teasing to spill out of your eyes if you didn't get your way soon.
“No! Stop!” He didn't want you to cum just yet. Whining at his words but complying anyway, you knew you needed to listen to him, so you brought your fingers out of your hole and into your mouth to suck your juices off. You tried as best as possible to hold eye contact with him as you sucked and swirled your tongue around your digits, moaning at your own taste, as you swayed your ass from side to side for him.
“Fuck me, Sir, please.” He didn't hesitate for one second in getting behind your bent-down form at the speed of lightning. One of his hands caressed and grabbed one of your ass cheeks before it landed on your hip to hold a tight grip on it while the other held his shaft as he teased your fold with the tip of him.
“Please, Bucky, don't tease.”
“I'll give you what you want, doll.”
He slowly pushed himself in your warmth, wanting you to feel all of him. The feeling of fullness almost had you cumming right then and there. He filled you up to the brim, wanting you to feel all that he had to give, and you weren't one bit disappointed. He pulled out till only his tip was inside you before he slowly pushed himself into you again, doing this a few times to get you familiar with the feeling. He just wanted to cum right then and there at the tightness of your walls clenching around his throbbing dick.
“Bucky, please go faster. Fuck me, please,” you whimpered out, wanting him to fuck you completely senseless.
His thrusts were hard and fast as he fucked you into the couch, hips slapping against your backside, making you jolt forwards with each move of him. Your mouth hung open as silent screams came out of it.
“This pussy feels so incredible. Fuck, so tight.”
His hands held your sides while his fingernails dug in your skin, creating dents. He moaned out as he watched his dick disappear into your hole with every move of his hips. Your head was buzzing, and your face was buried deep in the cushions at the intense pleasure Bucky was giving you. “Oh god, please don't stop, babe,” you pleaded of him.
Bucky took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, making your back arch. You bit your lip at his rough and dominants actions. The hand in your hair and his abusive thrusts was too much and so intense, but you loved it to the fullest. Tears came out of your eyes as he was taking you so good from behind.
“You like this? Don't you, baby? You like when I fuck your tight and pretty pussy?” Take what belongs to me? Hm? Letting me fuck you like a whore while your dad is just down the hall?”
Your head was foggy from the incredible fucking he was giving you. The lack of answer from you had him unsatisfied, so he smacked your ass cheek hard, making you squeal out at the pain.
“Answer me!”
“Y-yes… I love your cock fucking my tight little pussy. Please don't stop, baby.”
“Such a good whore for me. I'm not gonna stop, kitten, I promise.”
The thought that your dad and everyone else that worked in the building was just out the door, not having a clue as to what was going on in Buckys office, was so intoxicating—not knowing that Bucky was having at it with the boss's daughter.
You turned your head, at the best of your abilities, to look at him. His eyes were shut tight, and his face in pure concentration as he moved his body against yours. He met your gaze, both of you looking at each other as you neared your orgasm. One of your hands grabbed onto his forearm that had a tight grip on your hip. His other went underneath you to play and tease your clit.
“Please, Bucky, I need to cum. I need you to fill me up, please.” The pathetic pleas for him to fill up your pussy was what brought forward his release and made him finish deep inside of you.
His seed filling you up was what brought forth your own release. The way your walls became tighter around him had his hips snap rapidly against you as he gave you all of his cum. Moans and soft whimpers on a loop by the both of you as the pleasure overtook all your senses. Bucky thrust through both of your orgasms, not stopping until you were both satisfied.
Your face was in the cushions as you tried to slow down your breathing. Bucky caressed your sides and peppered kisses all over your lower back. Praises being given to you for being such a good girl to him.
“You're so good to me, beautiful.”
He pulled out of your hole. The two of you hissing out as you both felt overly sensitive. Bucky helped to clean both of you up with a few wipes he kept on his desk. He made sure you were ok before he went over to the windows to grab his underwear and pants, pulling them on where he stood.
You put your skirt and sweater on and fixed yourself up as you sat and watched him get ready. God, he looked so handsome that it had your stomach burst out in butterflies. Now all you wanted was for him to hoist you up on his desk and take you hard against it. But you saw him have a look at his watch, his eyebrows furrowed together.
“The meetings in five.”
He came over to you just as you were getting up. You hissed out as your body felt sore and spent up, but good regardless.
“Are you ok? Did I do too much?”
That was Bucky for you. Always worried that he had gone overboard, but you always reassured him that you had enjoyed yourself.
His hands came to rest at the side of your face, looking you up and down to make sure you were all good. Your own hands went over his ones.
“Hey, I'm alright. Just a little sore, but you know I loved it, and I can handle it, Bucky.”
“I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I'm all good, babe, I swear.”
You took his face in your hands now as his ones traveled down to the small of your back so he could pull you flush against his body. His face leaned down some so he could capture your lips with his, giving you one of his sweetest kisses. His face moved down to suck and lick at the side of your neck in the most loving way.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he reached into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve your panties, ”I believe these belong to you.” That cocky smile of his decorated his face as the panties dangled from his finger. Right. You had almost forgotten about those. “Thanks.” You took them and slid them up your legs.
“I wish you could stay longer. There are more surfaces in this office I would love to take you against.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you close. You would love nothing more than to stay here and let him have his way with you, but you knew that he needed to attend the meeting because if not, people would come knocking on his door, wondering where he is.
“I know, me too, but you know my dad is going to come knocking on the door and wonder where you are if you don't show up.”
“Yeah, I know. C'mon, I'll walk you out,”
He followed you to the elevator so he could say goodbye to you. A kiss and a hug were shared amongst you before the elevator dinged that it had arrived.
“We can meet later tonight if you want? Natalie is going out; God knows where, so we can stay at my place this time.” He asked you. “Whatever you want, just let me know, ok?” “I would like that, Bucky. I’ll let you know when.”
You stepped inside of it and pressed the button to go down. A smile on both of your faces as you gazed at each other the few seconds you had before the doors slid shut.
“I’ll miss you, doll.”
“I'll miss you more, Sir.”
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mercy-burning · 5 months ago
Text
Fake Fiancée
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.
Category: SMUT (18+)
Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)
Word Count: 7k
MASTERLIST
NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰
***
I've always loved the rain.
And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.
The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.
I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.
It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.
And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.
Like I said, blessing in disguise.
After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.
Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.
That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.
I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.
The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"
I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"
"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"
"A beer?"
"You got it."
I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.
One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.
Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.
Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.
Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.
And I had just the plan.
I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.
"Hey, could I get another?"
***
"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."
"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."
I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"
"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."
I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.
But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.
I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.
One hour...
One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"
It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.
Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.
And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.
One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.
I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.
"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.
"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...
He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.
Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.
As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."
His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.
Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?
But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"
"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.
"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"
I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.
She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."
She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.
What the fu—
"Who're you talking with?"
Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.
"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.
I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.
The man was right to be suspicious.
"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."
Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."
And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."
While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.
It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.
If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.
The thought made me all warm again.
"Y—You didn't have to do—"
She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"
I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."
"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."
I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"
She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?
"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...
A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"
"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."
With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"
The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."
See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."
I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.
"So, Spencer, what do you do?"
I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."
Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"
"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."
"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."
I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?
Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.
"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."
As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."
This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."
Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.
"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"
I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."
Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."
***
I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.
I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...
Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.
And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.
Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.
After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.
Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.
"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.
He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.
The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.
And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.
I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.
"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.
Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."
It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."
Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."
I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.
And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.
Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.
"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."
He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.
Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.
Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.
So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"
His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."
"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.
"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."
God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."
"Re—really?"
"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"
"Of course..."
"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"
"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.
"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"
He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."
"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."
Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.
And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.
I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.
He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."
I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."
The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.
"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"
I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.
So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.
"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.
"Uh huh," he breathed in response.
I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."
With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.
"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."
He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.
"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"
"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."
I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"
Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.
I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.
Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.
I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."
Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.
Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.
"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."
I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.
Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.
I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.
"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."
"It was my pleasure, Doctor."
We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.
That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.
But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.
"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.
He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"
"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."
He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"
"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."
He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"
I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"
He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."
My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"
Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."
As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.
Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.
And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.
***
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PERMANENT TAGLIST: 
@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith 
854 notes · View notes
parkers-gal · 9 months ago
Text
masterlist
requests | closed to complete current requests <3
last updated | aug 5th, 2021
do not repost my work anywhere !! respect this please. | fics are not ordered in any particular way. these headers are mine so pls don’t use/take them
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tom holland
insomnia - reader can’t get to sleep; tom finds out why
driving in the rain - fluffy dinner date and rainy drive back home
workouts and warmth - when all tom wants is some after-workout cuddles
from across the living room - announcing your engagement to your families
the one - you want to move out and get your own place as a couple, but tom doesn’t. nikki talks to him. 
anything for the twins - tom massages reader’s boobies during her period
moms, makeouts, and mishaps - nikki walks in during your makeout sesh
simple acts of intimacy - a fluffy 3.1k words worth of blurbs
silver surprises - the reader surprises tom at a premiere
twenty questions - questions ensue after tom & reader get stuck in an elevator
my gut - spinoff of twenty questions with claustrophobic!reader (tw/ anxiety + attacks)
stealth mode - tom & reader scaring each other
unicorns vs pegasuses - tom shuts the reader up by kissing them
a good story - tom meets reader at a meet & greet — friendships blossom to lovers
deal breaker - tom wants kids, but the reader does not
his lap - reader asks for help in overcoming an insecurity; tom misreads the situation
pool day - pool day w/ tom + the boys
hot - the reader picks a certain song that reminds her of tom - the boys go wild
grounded by rocks - tom talks about you in an interview for cherry
your hands - when all he wants is a simple head massage
late flights - in which tom takes too much time with the fans
nobody wanted to - where only one person makes it out alive
way more than 50 - the hollands trick the reader into thinking they did something they weren’t supposed to 
why [ pt ii ] - sweet cupcakes, and a not so sweet breakup
what looks suspicious - nikki doesn’t exactly approve of tom dating the reader
something sweet - reader drops off small gifts while tom’s on set
he remembers - when tom finds the letter
missed you - reuniting w/tom after four long months
soft gangsta - tom tries to dress edgy; the reader is unconvinced
the shoe game - reader & tom play the shoe game at their wedding
too much - when the reader has a rough time with work, tom comforts them
losing grip [ pt ii ] - a losing battle between the reader and a hereditary disease causes heartbreak
your captain america - protective!tom holland of young reader (age gap)
sexy genius - reader is a fan of (and meets) jake gyllenhaal
teddy bear cuddles - tom wears an oversized hoodie
nonsense - the boys think the reader is meddling with tom’s work
circles before yourself - rule #2 - osterfield!reader gets caught with tom
seventeen times - when the reader is having a hard time in lock down, tom tries to help (TW // depression)
pixie dust hair - tom assures insecure!reader that the pixie haircut looks good <3
a few more months - reader passes out during a run; tw // excessive exercising
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tiktok au’s
body ody ody - tom gets a little jealous over a few social media comments 
sweats in the supermarket - getting tom hard when he wears sweats
put your records on - trying not to kiss each other first
mood killer - saying dirty things into tom’s ear
say it back - pranking tom by not saying ily back to him
two different ways - tom choking the reader to get two different reactions 
brutal - doing the “did you mean to post this?” trend on tom 
worst thirty minutes of my life - playing a drinking game with tom to see who gives into cuddles first
my girl’s cuddles - crawling into tom’s lap 
even - buying hot leggings & taping tom’s reaction 
goofball - a silly way to reveal reader’s pregnancy to tom 
end the debate - “i found out why my boobs are small” trend
slam the car door - doing the car door prank on tom 
water bottle wars - the boys ask you and tom questions about each other. wrong answers result in sprayed water 
get you back real good - you & the boys prank tom after watching a scary movie 
peachy - sighing / moaning in front of tom playing video games to get his reaction
my princess - tom does a tiktok where he guesses all your answers to everyday questions
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dad!tom
needles and needs - when scarlet has to get shots, you realize she may not be the only one that needs comforting
all my girls - scarlet meets her baby sister for the first time (dad!tom)
everything i love about u - tom is afraid baby red might hate him for leaving home too much
a little extra help - stepdad!tom being the best dad to your daughter
through the tears - pregnant!reader goes into labour, and baby holland meets the family
first feed - tom watches you breastfeed for the first time
warmth from the love - baby holland’s first Christmas
first words - baby holland speaks for the first time
breaking the internet - when your pregnancy announcement crashes multiple apps/websites (pregnant!reader)
breaking the internet... again - when baby holland breaks the internet
boyfriends and brunch - when jade brings home her boyfriend (aged!up)
big sister + how are babies made - telling scarlet about the baby on the way (pregnant!reader)
too many kids - the reader’s dad has some commentary about the twins
mumma’s girl - tom gets jealous when scarlet isn’t a daddy’s girl
angels - a little skin to skin time with his best girl
family man - after a nasty breakup, tom finds out you had his child
cheesy uncles - telling paddy he’s going to be an uncle
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ag!reader (more to come !!)
y’all really get nasty - tom and the fans discuss ag!reader’s songs
my favorite things - ag!reader performs in front of the mcu cast at the grammy’s
34 + 35 - the boys react to reader’s new song(s)
34 + 35 remix - the boys reacting to the remix
his remedy - the boys react to positions deluxe
neglected - AG!reader breaks up w tom because of their job; tom searches for answers
low-key wants him - reader talks about how much nonna (+ her fam) loves tom
see u soon - reader interacts with tom while on stage for the swt
a few spilled secrets - AG!reader performs on jimmy fallon’s show.. tom and her confess a few secrets
for the first time - when the reader breaks down crying while singing about her ex, tom is there to comfort her
dance with me, rain on me - reader has a hard time on set, tom to the rescue
every tomorrow - the first album release night after your breakup
here we go again - introducing tom (+ the boys) to your celebrity friends
condoms or safety nets - the boys react to AG!reader’s song “safety net”
we’re not engaged - AG!reader announcing to the world why they no longer have a fiance... (fluffy)
the late late show - AG!reader & tom do spill your guts or fill your guts
pain from pleasure - dad!tom goes through a birth simulator — controlled by the reader
never have i ever - tom & the reader play a game on the late late show
fluffy hair - ag!reader has a zoom interview with zach sang. tom makes an appearance
fighting off the haters - ag!reader and older!tom holland (age gap) attend an award show after going public
run your hands thru my hair - tom reacts to ag!reader’s song “my hair”
stick to acting - tom tries to make a beat for ag!reader
practically twins - reader meets sebastian & anthony at comic con
damn lucky - black!reader wears her hair naturally during an interview
what a piece - reader talks about tom related songs & tattoos
flip it - tom talks about reader in an interview
at the door - older!reader & tom fight off haters
a headcannon of ag!reader being a marvel cast member
a headcannon of tom & the reader attending the avengers endgame premiere
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styles!reader (more to come !!)
bathroom kisses - makeout sessions with tom and styles!reader in the bathroom
yeah, he is - tom holland x styles!reader meet the styles family; protective older brother harry makes an appearance
unparalleled love - older brother harry styles makes a speech at reader’s wedding
grilled - date night for tom & styles!reader is a bit difficult with two kids; older brother!harry to the rescue
baby showers and brothers - dad!tom & styles!reader are going to be parents
potential boyfriend - tom has a crush on the reader when they first meet
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ts!reader (more to come!!)
trust me - tom & the reader defend her after nikki doesn’t approve
your london boy - tom & co. + the world reacts to “london boy”
boy of my dreams - tom being proud of the reader for winning a grammy
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rapper!tom
tom records your sounds during sex for his music (hc)
tom talks about you in an interview
concepts: one , two , three
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professor!tom
my pretty girl - tom gets jealous when reader gets many valentines
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other reader tropes
cherry - reader is a screenwriter for tom’s upcoming movie
no shouting - singer!reader needs some help after paparazzis are too much (based on a video of tom)
pregnancy belly - actress!reader has to wear a pregnancy belly for her role, and the boys tease tom about when it’ll be real
we march - actress!reader being a huge feminist
passions & pediatricians - pediatrician-to-be!reader meets tom
politics - reader’s granpa is joe biden (requested) and tom meets him
extra support - psychiatrist!reader helps tom on the set of cherry
you made it big - tom holland x actress!reader at the after party
partition - the boys react to famous!reader singing partition
senorita - singer!reader makes a music video with shawn, who’s tom’s new best friend
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miniseries 
boomerang: one , two , three , four [completed]
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peter parker
making amends
➢ enemies to lovers ; college!peter x super soldier!reader ; 30k words ; sorta slow burn
cheeky guy, favorite thighs - college!peter doing a tik tok challenge — between the reader’s thighs [tik tok au]
a little nicer - doing the prank on peter (”you could’ve been a little nicer to me today”)
start searching - first make out sessions with our best boy :)
hidden hickeys - the avengers think innocence of peter, until they’re proven wrong
the team - part two of hidden hickeys; reader meets the avengers
all of you - late night talks about your future with peter :’)
like you wouldn’t believe - reader tells mj about her & peter’s awesome sex
slip from my hands - roommate!peter comforts the reader after a nightmare
i’d wait for her - college!peter parker needs to come to terms with you and your boyfriend
shut up and kiss me - soft make out sessions with peter :)
all the good things in the world, and i get you - insecure!reader needs a little reassuring 
modern chivalry - peter being a gentleman on the subway
eggnog and mistletoe - peter helps you love the holidays
the force awakens? it sleeps - a little extra comfort & care from our favorite baby boyfriend 
a prince - wonder woman!reader meets spider-man (& avengers) in a mission
steve rogers fics - peter finds you reading fanfiction abt steve rogers
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fanboy!peter
fanboys and bracelets - fanboy!peter parker goes to famous!singer!reader’s meet and greet
fanboys and phone numbers - fanboy!peter parker continuation 
showing around - fanboy!peter gets VIP access; some dancing ensues
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stark!reader + avengers!reader
if you knew feelings - the avengers want you & peter to break up
sleeping - peter misinterprets a few important questions
the may to your ben - college!best friend!peter parker x stark!reader fluff
race ya - peter confesses his feelings for rogers!reader after a mission — on comms
frat bathrooms - stark!reader joins the avengers where she sees college!peter, the boy she slept with at a frat party
rainy days - reader doesn’t like rainy days, a certain wall-climber changes their mind
already got her - jealous!peter makes a public confession
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flustered!peter
a nervous one - flustered!peter parker sees cheerleader!reader in her uniform
one day soon - flustered!peter parker x affectionate!reader
all better - flustered!peter parker does some lab flirting with reader
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dad!peter + pregnant!reader
unplanned  [ part ii ] - reader gets pregnant... breaks up with peter to avoid it all
burrito wraps - reader worries that baby parker might be cold
a name to remember - latine!reader & peter give their girl a special name
you’re magic - a certain wall crawler hears two heartbeats
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sgt. bucky barnes
first cuddles - bucky asks to cuddle for the first time
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harry holland
golden light, the love of my life - the boys tease harry —on a live video— for being whipped
it won’t f^cking open - harry lends a helping hand
how much i - those three magical words are exchanged for the first time
cuddly koala moments - time the reader just needed harry’s warmth
anything for hands - the reader cuts harry’s hair on instagram live
your other best friend - the reader is sam’s new friend, but harry thinks they like tom instead
you’re my anchor - harry has an anxiety attack, but the reader knows what to do
what’s his [ pt ii ] - when everything thinks the reader should date tom instead, harry snaps
whipped fries - harry brags about the reader winning the pub quiz for them
tell me, show me - the reader makes harry flustered by playing w/the strings from his sweatpants
keep your cool - tom setting u up with his brother // nikki being wary
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ag!reader
you’re such a dream to me — ag!reader writes r.e.m. about harry
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harry styles
intoxicating - soft bubbles baths with long haired!harry 
frayed braids - reader braids long haired!harry’s hair
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others:
harrison osterfield
not anymore - when harrison comes back from filming, he’s determed to win the reader’s heart
irreversible - when relationships fall apart, people fall apart. (infidelity)
circles before yourselves - rule #1  - harrison x osterfield!reader (sister) when brothers talk, bad things begin
think of her - harrison asks your family for their blessing [holland!sister]
steve harrington
together not never - steve discovers the reader is pregnant
2K notes · View notes
kleohoneyao3 · 6 months ago
Note
Ohhhh!!!!! First time meeting another werewolf! I wanna see protective Steeb!
alter III
Pairing: werewolf!Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count: 2k 
Warnings: 18+, no minors, exophilia, a/b/o, jealousy, possessiveness, marking, nests, dirty talk, knotting, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, fighting, vaginal sex, unedited 
MASTERLIST
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With your head cocked to the side, hand on your hip, you surveyed the mess that was your nest. A frown tugged at the edges of your mouth. It still wasn’t right.
You could hear Steve in the kitchen. The scent of cooking meat made your mouth water. He hadn’t said anything but you knew he was concerned, knew that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once. 
It was his fault, really. Steve had bought you a ton of new things for your nest and you had no idea where to put them. Blankets, duvets, pillows, old shirts. It was beginning to look a little crowded.
You’d taken them without complaint. You had been distracted by the worried look on Steve’s face, the way he seemed to be constantly surveying the area. It was putting you on edge and you knew he could sense it.
“Are you almost finished over there, baby?”
You huffed. “No. I don’t want that in there,” you pointed to a fluffy pillow.
Steve, the dutiful mate he was, immediately removed it for you. He threw it upstairs, in the direction of the bedroom that was no longer used. You smiled, satisfied, and allowed him to steer you to the kitchen table. 
Steve helped you into the chair, keeping his hands on your hips as you wiggled around. You whined as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and nipping at the bond mark.
“Steve,” you pushed his face away, “it’s sensitive. Stop.”
“Might have to do it again soon,” he grumbled, “keep it fresh.”
Finally he moved away and began to dish up dinner. He piled your plate with food and didn’t start eating his own until he was content with the mouthfuls you were taking. 
Throughout the meal, his eyes kept straying to the window. His knee was bouncing and he looked a second away from leaping up and charging out of the door. You tried not to stare too much, chalking it up to the fact he hadn’t been out in a day or two.
Dissatisfied with the distance, Steve hooked his leg around your chair leg and dragged you closer. You yelped and glared at him, reaching out to smack his knee.
“I’m trying to eat,” you said, dodging his hands as they made grabs for your thighs and breasts. 
“Nothing wrong with being close,” he shrugged, “is there a problem?”
You stilled. “I don’t know,” you said carefully, “is there?”
Something just felt off. Like when the sky was blue but you felt rain was about to come. You trusted Steve but there was something he wasn’t telling you.
It had been like that at the beginning, too. Despite having marked you, he kept pretty tight-lipped about everything. It took him a while to talk about it, and you had found yourself in disbelief at times. None of it had seemed real; the bond, the nest, the cabin. Werewolves.
You had been worried that you would change. That his bite would alter some part of you. Steve had reassured you that it wouldn’t.
“Werewolves can’t be made,” he had explained one night, wrapped around you in your nest. “It’s a recessive gene, and it has to be inherited.”
That had caused an entirely new bout of worries, ones involving children and tiny furry pups, but you had no plans to get pregnant anytime soon. 
“What about packs,” you’d asked, “wolves live in packs, don’t they?”
“They do, but werewolves are entirely different,” he’d said. “There are rumours that was used to live in packs hundreds of years ago. These days there’s not enough places with enough room to house packs of wolves. I guess we evolved to not need them.”
You had asked him how many more there were out there. He’d told you he didn’t know, but it wasn’t something you should worry about. 
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he’d laughed, “the chances of another human stumbling upon us are pretty low, let alone someone like me.”
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A few days after that dinner, you found yourself laid up in your nest with Steve. It was getting warmer so most of the duvets had been replaced with shirts. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn your own clothes.
Steve had you between his legs, resting your head on his stomach. You had your laptop on your knees, sending the last few emails to your publisher. You’d managed to finish your book and looked forward to having more free time. 
You jolted when Steve’s hand fell onto your breast, squeezing the flesh. You scowled and peeked up at him. His face was buried in a book and he seemed entirely innocent. Too innocent.
You hissed when his thump tweaked the turgid peak of your breast, rolling it between his finger tips. You pressed ‘Send’ on your email and shut your laptop down, shoving it under the sofa before turning back to Steve.
You tried to sit up but he pinched your nipple. “Steve! Why did you do that?”
He peered down at you over his book. “Did you send those emails?”
“Yes,” you pouted, “I’m finished.”
He hummed nonchalantly, turning back to his book. You huffed, turning your face to nuzzle into the crotch of his sweatpants. You swallowed hard, reaching up to slide your fingers beneath the waistband and pull them down.
Your mouth watered at the heavy scent of his cock. You could picture it; pink and pretty, the tip red or purple depending on how much you’d teased him. There was a slight curve, one that you loved tracing with your tongue, and a soft bump at the bottom that turned into a thick knot when he was inside of you.
“Alpha,” you sighed, pressing gentle kisses onto the public hair that you revealed. 
Steve was not unaffected. His grip of his book was tight and you could spot a slight tremor in his breathing. You smiled to yourself, satisfied with the reaction you provoked.
Just as you were about to reveal his cock, Steve went rigid. You froze. You had learned enough about his body language to know it was unusual. A guttural growl made you whimper, and it took you a second to realise it was coming from him. 
Fingers still curled around the waistband of his sweatpants, you wriggled up until your hand was pressed beneath his chin. “Alpha,” you whispered, “what’s going on?”
You yelped when Steve shot to his feet, book flying a few feet away. He began prying you off of him, setting you down in your nest and covering you with various shirts and blankets.
 He pressed his hand into the centre of your chest and looked you in the eye. “Stay.”
Nostrils flared, he turned and began heading for the door. An intruder, you thought dimly, someone’s here. The thought turned your blood to ice. 
To your surprise, Steve left the door open as he stepped out. You buried your face in your hands, peeking out between your fingers. 
You expected to hear vicious snarls and the snapping of jaws, the breaking of bones under paws. After a few seconds, the silence was finally broken.
“Bucky,” Steve gritted out.
You relaxed a little. There was no real anger in his tone, only annoyance. You began getting to your feet, still listening carefully to the conversation going on outside.
“I just came to visit my old pal,” the stranger said. “Imagine my surprise to find he’s gone and found himself an Omega. Like it’s no big deal.”
Steve snapped. “Don’t talk about her.”
A low whistle, followed by, “A relatively new bond, I’m guessing.”
You peered out, curiously finally winning over. Steve had his back to you but his head tilted to the side, chest heaving. He could smell you. 
The stranger stood some fifty metres away, hands stuffed into his pockets like it was nothing. He had brown hair that dusted his shoulders and blue eyes that seemed to be laughing. He rivalled Steve in his size, his shoulders seeming wider and his chest thicker. 
You gulped. Whoever this man was, you were glad he and Steve didn’t seem to be enemies.
The man looked at you over Steve’s shoulder. “This her?”
“Look away!” Steve roared, the sound echoing.
You flinched. The man tutted. “You’re scaring her,” he rolled his eyes and squinted. “Though, I can see why you would be so over protective -“
You screamed when Steve shot forward, tackling the man like he weighed nothing. They both hit the ground and rolled, tearing up chunks of dirt and scattering leaves. 
The man, Bucky, caught your eye and smiled. “Don’t worry, doll. Give us a few minutes.”
Steve howled and head butted him. There was a splash of blood, followed by laughing, and you found yourself eager to take Bucky’s advice. You locked yourself into your cabin (not that it would do much good) and retreated to your nest.
Almost an hour passed before the sounds died down. The doorhandles jiggled a few times and then snapped as Steve forced it open, charging inside like a rhinoceros. 
He seemed to calm at the sight of you in your nest. You tried to stop him from coming in; he was covered in leaves and dirt and blood, but he wound himself around you and didn’t still until you were tucked nicely in your chest.
To your surprise, Bucky entered soon after. He didn’t look much better off than Steve. He nodded at you. “Nice nest, doll.”
“Don’t push it,” Steve growled, glaring at his friend of your head. “One more word and you can fuck off.”
Bucky seemed to be holding back a smile but his gaze was fixed on you. It kept straying to the spot where Steve’s mark was. “We’ll do proper introductions another day,” he said. “I’ll be living in Steve’s cabin for a while. Shout if you need anything, doll.”
“She won’t,” Steve snarled, watching as Bucky walked out of the cabin and shut the door behind him.
“Steve!” You slapped his arm. “That was rude. That’s - isn’t that your friend?”
Steve was busy cramming his fingers down your sweatpants and into your panties. “Not for much longer,” he snapped, licking at his bite mark.
Your back arched as he plunged his teeth into the old wound. That, combined with his fingers rubbing tight circles onto your swollen clit, had you orgasming embarrassingly quickly. 
“That’s right,” he urged, sitting forward and propping you onto your hands and knees. His fingers left a wet trail of your slick up your stomach. “Show your Alpha your cunt, baby. Let him see.”
Steve adjusted you to his pleasure, shuffling around with his sweatpants before revealing his cock. You wanted desperately to see it but he was rubbing the head through your folds and nudging at your clit before you could ask.
He seated himself inside of you without thinking twice. The knot at the base of his cock was already swollen. It took only a few thrusts before he was locked inside of you, his hand pressed to your back as he ground his cock into your pussy.
“Gotta let him know,” he cursed, thrusting as much as he could. “Needs to know that you’re mine.”
“Alpha!” You cried out as his fingers connected with your clit, pulling back your flesh and allowing him to touch the most sensitive part. It would’ve been too much if you weren’t so desperate to cum with his cock inside of you.
“I fuckin’ saw him,” Steve pressed his face into your neck, “Saw how he looked at you. He was interested. Intrigued. Wanted to get close to you.”
He pinned you to the floor as he came, shooting his seed inside you and humming as it trickled out past his knot. He did his best to stifle the flow, prodding at your lips and the base of his cock with his fingers. 
You couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said about Bucky. You knew Steve was territorial and it was likely just the Alpha talking, but still. Something about the way Bucky had looked at you. . .
You shuddered at the sound of a howl outside, keening as Steve stiffened behind you. “Bastard,” he murmured before going back to kissing your neck.
No, he had to be wrong about Bucky. There was just no way.
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reblogs/comments are appreciated! if you want to see more of this pair (or this three ;)) then please send me a request!
i do not give permission for my fics to be reposted on other sites
dividers by @firefly-graphics
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vendettaparker · 18 days ago
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Six Feet Under [P.P]
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“Our love is six feet under I can't help but wonder If our grave was watered by the rain Would roses bloom?” —Billie Eilish
Summary: When Peter broke up with you to protect you, he never expected you’d fall into the arms of Harry Osborn.
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: implied sex, swearing, angst, hints of depression, typos
a/n: this fic is inspired by billie eilish’s song “six feet under”, i hope you guys enjoy! and as always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Just get the fuck out!” You screamed, chucking the glass vase on the kitchen counter, flowers and all, at Peter.
“Baby,” Peter dodged the flowers and held his hands out, “please just try to understand.”
“I thought you were different,” You cried, “I thought you cared about me, Peter. I loved you! I loved you so much!” Your sobs were so harsh that they caught in your throat and tore through in painful, uncomfortable cries. “I-I can’t believe you. I wanted you to be the one, you were it for me! Does that mean nothing to you?”
“(Y/N),” Peter tried again, but you just backed away, into the hallway leading to your room. He was crying too. His hands were shaking and his heart was crushed, but he had to do this. He had to do what was right for you, no matter how much it killed him.
“Just get out,” You said. Your voice was cracked and worn, all the sunshine had left it, leaving only sadness and heartache, “I can’t even look at you.”
You raced out of the room. And Peter, no longer being your boyfriend, was forced to watch you go, taking a piece of his shattered heart with you.
That was four months ago. And while Peter knew the ramifications of what he was doing, he never expected to see you in the Newspaper, galavanting across Manhattan with Harry Osborn wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.
A classic enemies to lovers, they called it. You and Harry were the face of a new age where Stark and Osborn join as one.
It was disgusting. It was painful. It was hell. Watching you kiss him in a cafe or hold his hand in the park. It hurt Peter more than the beating he took from MJ on your behalf. If only the media knew that you and Harry were already friends. Then they wouldn’t be so shocked by this revelation, and then Peter wouldn’t be tortured into seeing it plastered all over the world to taunt him.
“How could she move on that fast?,” Peter grumbled when you and Harry passed by him, MJ, and Ned’s table in the cafe on campus. “I mean, we just broke up.”
“She has a right to move on,” MJ shrugged, but she too was feeling a little pang of discomfort whenever Harry kissed your cheek, “you’re that one that dumped her.”
“To protect her,” Peter clarified.
“That's not what she thinks,” Ned said.
Peter looked at him quizzically, “What do you mean?”
“She thinks that you were only with her to get closer to her dad.” Ned said, “Is that not what you said?”
“No,” Peter shook his head as his blood ran cold, “I just told her that we weren’t a good fit or some bullshit like that. I never implied—”
“All of her exes were only with her to get closer to her dad,” MJ noted, “she told me about that a while back. Back before you two dated, she was telling me how she thought you were different. I guess she just assumed.” She shrugged, taking a bite of her apple. “At least with Harry, she knows that he’s not in it for the money.”
“I wasn’t with her for the money!” Peter yelled, slamming his hand on the table, denting it, which Ned quickly covered with his jacket. The entire cafe was now staring at him, you and Harry included. You gave him a frown before kissing Harry’s cheek, grabbing your bag, and getting up to leave.
“Damn it,” Peter mumbled, rubbing his hand.
Ned looked sympathetically at the pitiful sight before him, “Man, just go talk to her. Just be honest. You know how much (Y/N) values honesty.”
“I can’t,” Peter sighed, “she can hardly look at me, let alone have a conversation.”
“You were wrong,” MJ said bluntly, “you’re sad because you were wrong and you know it. Go up to her and own up to the fact that you fucked up, that’s all you can do.”
Peter nodded before grabbing his bag and getting up as well.
You were sitting on a bench outside of the cafe building. You had a tissue in your hand and your shoulders were shaking like you were crying. You cried a lot lately.
“Hey,” Peter said, setting his stuff beside yours and then sitting down for himself.
“What do you want?” You snapped.
“I just wanted to talk. I know what I did—I know that I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, “water under the bridge.”
“It seems like it matters—”
“It doesn’t!” You interrupted him, “I’m not wasting another second crying over you,” you wiped your tears, “I’m happy, Peter. I’m happy without you. You’re the one that did this.” You motioned between the two of you, “you killed any chance of an us. You have only yourself to blame. Can’t you just let it go and quit beating a dead horse? I see you around the tower every day, isn’t that bad enough? I can’t get away from you no matter how hard I try, shouldn’t my punishment be over by now?”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, (Y/N), I love—”
“Don’t you dare say that to me,” You pointed an angry finger at him, “don’t you dare when you know that it’s not true.”
“I didn’t—” Peter sighed as tears began to build up in his eyes, “I just wanted to protect you. It wasn’t about money or fame or any of that shit. I have a target on my back, I didn’t want you to have one too”
“I’m not some helpless little girl,” You seethed, “my dad is Ironman, my uncle is Captain fucking America, I already have hundreds of targets on my back!” You yelled.
“You don’t get to cry about this and you don’t get to protect me anymore.” You said, grabbing your things, “you aren’t it for me, Peter. Not anymore.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
You were laying on your back when Harry returned with a warm washcloth to clean between your legs. You sighed contently when you felt the warmth over your naked cunt.
“How’s Peter?” Harry asked casually as he got back under the sheets, “I saw him chase after you today.”
You shrugged, “You can ask him yourself, you know,” You said.
“Well, I just didn’t want to make you feel—”
“Just because I’m mad at him doesn’t mean you have to stop being friends.” You said, resting your head on Harry’s shoulder, “it’s fine.”
Harry let out a long, deep sigh, “What is this, (Y/N)?” He asked, twirling your hair around his finger, “what are we doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t love each other,” Harry said bluntly, but it was true. You both knew it. “At least, not the way you love Peter—”
“Loved.” You corrected, “and you’re right we don’t.” You said casually. It was a fact. Harry wasn’t it for you and you were both too smart to fool each other. There was really nothing more to say.
“So?” Harry asked.
“So?”
“What do we do?”
You looked up at him and sighed, “We agreed, Harry.”
“I know but—”
“We agreed,” You stated again, “you knew what this was.”
“I just hate seeing you like this. I might not be in love with you, but I care about you, (Y/N).” Harry tried, giving your shoulder a squeeze.
You shrugged and gave him a peck on the cheek, “I should go.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Fall was your favorite time of year, especially in New York. There is something so satisfying about watching the entirety of the city slow down for a moment. You’d think winter would be a slow time, but with the chaos that surrounded Christmas and the new year, fall, mid-October to be exact, was when the hustle and bustle calmed for a spell.
This was also a great time for coffee dates and pumpkin patch outings. You used to go pick apples with your dad, Pepper, and Morgan every year, but with the merger between Stark Industries and Oscorp, he was too busy this year, so Harry offered to take you.
“Ew,” you laughed when Harry shoved an apple with a rotting spot in your face. You turned your head and the cold, wet, mush coated your cheek, “gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off and rubbing your hand on Harry’s jacket.
“Harry,” Morgan said as she walked hand n hand with you down the rows of apple trees, “can you shoot out white stuff like Peter?”
You cringed at her wording of the question and Harry didn’t react any better, choking and spitting out his apple.
You pat his back as he coughed and looked at you for clarification on what Morgan had just said.
“She means the web fluid,” You chuckled, “not the other thing.”
Harry nodded and sighed out in relief, “No,” he laughed, “unfortunately I can’t.”
“That’s sad,” Morgan commented, “I liked when Peter did that.”
“Harry can do a lot of other fun things,” You said, trying to lighten the mood.
“He can’t make you happy,” Morgan pointed out, before meandering off to pick more apples. You watched as she walked away, blissfully unaware of how harmful her statement was.
“(Y/N)?” Harry placed an arm around on your shoulders, “are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” You nodded, “I’m fine. She’s seven she didn’t mean it like that.”
Harry just nodded and placed a kiss on your cheek, “It’s okay if she’s right.” He whispered, “I know I’m not the one and that’s okay. I want you to be happy, same as her.”
“You should take your own advice,” You whispered harshly, “MJ loves you—”
“Please,” Harry sighed, “let’s not talk about that. Let’s just enjoy the nice weather, okay?”
You nodded and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “Okay.”
You spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Morgan around. Harry helped her carry her basket of apples and kept his arm tightly around your waist as the three of you walked to the car. You were content for the most part, but you couldn’t help but wish it was someone else holding onto you.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
You walked into the lab with a plate of warm spaghetti, “Hey dad, Pep made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.”
“Great, I’m starving down here,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together as you set the food on his lab bench. He rolled over to it in his rolly chair and began to dig in.
“What’re you working on?” You asked, walking over to his holograms and the current project he was working on, sprawled out on the floor and table.
“I have a new suit design for Steve,” Tony said with a mouth full of noodles, “I made an all-black suit for Peter for stealth missions and Steve wants one too.”
“Nanotech?” You asked, looking over the design.
“Yeah, and T’challa just sent over some vibranium for a new shield.”
“Cool,” you began messing around with the tools on the ground, picking up right where Tony left off while he ate.
“So how’s it going with Harry,” he asked, poking at a meatball on his plate, “is he treating you alright?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” You shrugged, “the media likes it—”
“But do you like it?”
You shrugged again, “I don’t dislike it.”
Tony sighed, “Y’know, love is a complicated thing—”
“Dad,” You groaned.
“No, no, hear me out, I actually know what I’m talking about this time.” Tony said, “Anyways, love is complicated. You might love Harry, but are you in love with Harry?”
“I really—”
“(Y/N),” Tony grabbed your hand, making you look at him, “you might not be my flesh and blood, but you are my daughter; I know you. I know you’re not okay. It’s okay to not be okay.”
You sniffled and pulled away, “I’m just tired—”
“Don’t pull that bullshit with me,” Tony warned, “I can see right through you.”
“Dad,” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “this merger is important—”
“And it would happen either way,” Tony said, “Harry is the sole owner of Oscorp now that Norman is in jail, he was going to merge with us either way, (Y/N).”
You nodded and wiped your eyes before any tears could slip out, “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine, dad. I love Harry and I’m happy with him.”
“Peter didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” Tony said as you began to walk away, “sometimes I catch him outside your bedroom, trying to muster up the courage to knock. It’s sad, but it’s also hopeful. One day he’ll have the courage to knock and I just hope you’ll have the courage to answer.”
“He left me, dad,” You cried, “I-I was so happy and he left me. He knew he was hurting me—”
“I’m not making excuses for him, (Y/N),” Tony said softly, pulling you into his arms, “but he was hurting too. Boys are idiots, Peter being one of the biggest idiots I know.” You smiled at that, letting out a watery chuckle, “but he loves you. He’s in love with you.”
“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, “I really don’t. I know I don’t love Harry and I know he doesn’t love me, but he cares. And people like us together, isn’t that enough?”
“No,” Tony shook his head, “not nearly.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The rooftop was always quiet. Every once in a while, you’d hear the whirring of a Stark taking shipments out and bringing new ones in, but you were used to it. It was more like white noise that added to the calm rather than disurbed it.
“Hey,” You said when you felt the familiar eyes of a certain spiderling staring at you, “you can come over, y’know. It’s creepy, always having you watch from a distance.”
Peter came out from behind the bushes that grew on the rooftop garden, “I didn’t want to startled you.”
You shrugged, “I always feel you watching anyways, it doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“It did?”
“Yeah,” You nodded, “it kind of sucked when I was trying so hard to get away from you, I could still feel you eyes on me. It was like a cruel joke. Knowing you were watching to see if I was alright when you were the reason that I wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. Ever since he broke up with you, he’s been a mess. He tried to stick with his decision, but he realized very quickly that he’d made the wrong choice.
The wind whipped and swirled on the rooftop, causing your hair to blow back, exposing the tears that were quickly drying on your cheeks.
“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You said, almost bitterly.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend to comfort you?” Peter said, equally as sharp.
“Harry and I are done.” You sighed, but it wasn’t sad. It was more like relief. As much as you loved him, you couldn’t keep pretending that it was his hands you wanted to hold. Or his eyes you wanted to get lost in.
“I thought you were happy?”
“I’m not. I think that much is clear.”
Peter nodded and moved closer, until he was against the ledge of the roof you were sitting on. When you didn’t flinch or move away, he sat next to you, hand brushing up against yours.
“I didn't love Harry,” you said after a beat, “and he didn’t love me. At least, not the way I want to be loved. We both knew that it wasn’t going to last. It was more like making sure we weren’t alone if anything. He knew what my intentions were and I knew his. It wasn’t sustainable or anything, but it was better than nothing.”
Peter just nodded again before wiping his eyes through the mask.
“Did you mean it?” You asked.
“Mean what?”
“When you said that it wasn’t for the money or the fame—when you said you never meant to hurt me.”
“Of course I meant it. I love you, (Y/N). I’m just so fucking stupid sometimes—“
“Yeah,” you agreed, “you are.” You reached out and took Peter’s suit-covered hand and and gave it a squeeze, “but I think you’re my soulmate. Even when I hate you, I can’t disconnect from you. I can’t walk away no matter how hard I try, and neither can you.”
Peter took his mask off with his other hand, showcasing the tears he’d been trying to hide. “I thought you said I ruined it. I killed any chance of us.”
“I want to be happy again, Peter,” You gave him a small smile, “you make me happy.”
“You make me happy too,” Peter smiled with a sniffle, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“I know,” You nodded, pulling him close so he could rest his head on your shoulder to muffle his sniffles. “I know. I love you.” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I love you too. You’re it for me, (Y/N), now and forever.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
✧tags & moots✧ PETER PARKER
@harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 @itscaminow @petrsipdeyparker @jewishdelis @bradtomlovesya @virginmaitai111 @ietss @hunnbunimdun @teenwishes08 @tombrlholland @fuckingbloodyhello @inavaparker @spencereidshoe @potters-heart @itsusernameme @sienna14 @ghostlyspiderversebeautyfire @harryssmommy @ava11111  @heartshapedparker @5aturne @peteysprincess @say-urie @fitzfiles @marvelobsessedsworld @honeyspidey @peter-parkers-gf
✧tags & moots✧ PERM
@ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @kelieah @iovebug @celestialholland  @hollandcrush @scarletspideyy @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @wierdteenagenerd @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @morganwilliams @loveaffaire @illicitparker @tomfknholland @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @bi-lmg07 @aayaissaa @sophiaparkerbarnes @runawaywithmyghost @micaelaf05 @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeel @peni5parker @tomsoxytocin @slut-for-steve-rogers @vavilip @kitkatt18-blog @kittkatt2015 @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @hollandsfirstlady @hollandswife @writesforholland @prancerrparkerr @petesrparker @arlo-sanders @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @niallberry @iaminlovetomhollandmarvel @nakyuu77 @1-800-lov3r @bisexualdragongirl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue @hallecarey1 @marvelobsessed10031917 @z3ndaya-blog @swiftnmarvel @avashoefest @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @bellawherethehellyoubeenl0ca @marvelhasmyheart235 @kierstiniscrying @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @lava-spider @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @spideymix @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @samsanchez857 @spideybrina @kurushiisaboss @analuizabiravg @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @whatareyouhidingpeter @lady-curpse​ @lolooo22​ @marvel-moviesfan​ @sofsoftheloaf
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mae-gi-writes · 6 months ago
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Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)
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ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE 
Summary:  Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 
Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi 
A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)
NEXT PART --> 
---
“What’s your return policy on rings?” 
The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...
Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time. 
“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement. 
His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all. 
“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.” 
He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh. 
The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back. 
No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences? 
Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol. 
Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones. 
“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.
“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles. 
“It’s just--so old and tacky.” 
“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?” 
She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."
"Who cares what your colleagues think?"
Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.
Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.
That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.
----
"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.
Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.
"Miss?"
You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"
He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."
It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.
It keeps ringing. No one picks up.
You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."
You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"
Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.
Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.
A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.
"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"
He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:
"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."
Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.
"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.
The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."
"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"
He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."
Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.
"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"
"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"
"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.
"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."
"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."
His father nods, "alright. Thanks."
"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.
"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."
"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."
"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."
"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.
"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.
"Do you need a ride?"
-----
You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.
"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.
"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"
"How'd you know?"
"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."
His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.
Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."
"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.
"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"
You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."
"What's a crush?"
"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."
"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"
"Yeah I did."
"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.
"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.
You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."
You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.
-----
"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"
Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.
Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.
"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."
"Did she?"
The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."
"Do you really like miss Y/N?"
"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."
"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"
"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.
"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."
"That's nice of her."
"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"
"Uh--yeah. Sure."
"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"
"Yup."
"Daddy!"
Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."
"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."
"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."
A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"
"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."
"Why?"
There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:
"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."
Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.
"Did you love mama?"
Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.
"Yeah."
Another short pause. "Did she love me?"
"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.
He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.
"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"
Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.
Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.
"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"
"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."
Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter. 
As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart. 
He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form. 
Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him. 
He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.
He really needs to take that down.
-----
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0melodydrifter0 · 5 months ago
Text
The Blood God Reverie Anthology, ch.2
Rainy Nights, NSFW
Listen,, its raining here where I exist irl, my heart is full and my head even fuller, so here's some brainrot that's basically just porn with context.
MINORS DNI
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Age Gap, Size Kink, Self indulgence to the maxxx
Second person is used
Pronouns aren't really used, because 2nd person, but the reader is receiving if you know what i mean.
((Please don't forget you can use web-extentions to change pronouns or the '(Y/n)' to make the fic more personalized! I use interactivefics.))
Genre: porn with context
Summary:
Your mentor Philza has told you a plethora of stories, some sounding more realistic than others, almost always about his adventures with his good friend Technoblade. You would ask your mentor if you could meet The Blade but the angel of death would quickly shut the discussion down, wanting his friend to be nothing but a character in his stories to you. Maybe he's just worried that you two would become really good friends?
Like,,, really good friends :]
 
Rainy Nights (NSFW)
You had known of Technoblade, the infamous blood god, for years as he was your mentor's closest friend. Philza would tell you stories of their escapades in the arctic and the truths behind tall tales they inspired together, and you treasured every story he shared. Although your winged mentor would answer any questions you had about the blood God, for the most part, he made it clear he didn't necessarily want you to meet Technoblade if you didn’t need to. It somewhat frustrated you, but any time you would try to push the subject, Philza would just ask you to trust him. There were very few things your mentor would not answer without so much as a sliver of explanation and only a request of trust, but those few things you respected. So you simply enjoyed the stories as they came and let your daydreams of meeting the blood God stay where they were in fantasy.
You can imagine how odd it would feel when those daydreams lurched right into reality. 
The day you finally met Technoblade himself it happened to be raining, the downpour keeping you inside and curled up by the fire with your nose buried in a book when a knock came to your door. Answering it you were met with a soggy Technoblade, the two of you staring at each other with puzzled expressions for a moment. You offered to let him come inside, speaking first, and after eyeing you over he stiffly accepted. As it turned out  Technoblade was looking for Philza who had stopped by your house a few days prior, the angel having checked in on you before continuing on his way to a village with specific trades. Though the piglin brute hybrid intended to continue on and tail his friend through the rain, he found himself easily persuaded to simply stay at your house. After all, Philza would stop by your house in a few days on his way back from the village, why do any needless backtracking? Traveling aside the blood God found himself drawn to you, enjoying your demeanor and company, and thus he had no qualms with waiting for his friend in your cozy abode. By the time Philza had returned to your house, you and Technoblade had built the foundation of what would be a great friendship. 
Philza didn't freak out like you thought he would when he found you had been hanging out with Technoblade for a few days, though he did seem a bit tense for the rest of that evening, the look in Philza’s eyes when glancing at Technoblade holding an emotion you couldn't recognize. After that Technoblade kept visiting, at first sparsely and only with Philza, over time becoming more often and not just when Philza could spare the time to come along. 
You found out relatively quickly that Technoblade was older than you, like a lot older than you, like a century older than you. At your shocked reaction he added that, 
'It's not that old, especially compared to Phil. Don't believe any age he tells you he is ok?' 
Technoblade's age showed in his experience and skill, but certainly not in his humor, wit, or physique. The man-made an easy show of how strong and knowledgeable he was in subtle ways when around you. You thought it was on purpose at one point, but you just as quickly pushed away the thought while mentally scolding yourself for being egotistical, simply appreciative to have such a talented and cool friend. You and Technoblade had a natural way of understanding each other, both being quiet in nature you could read each other's body language as if it were audibly spoken. It made things simple, honest, and so comfortable between the both of you, to the point where you two sometimes went almost the whole day without 'talking'. Technoblade’s presence was becoming so normal that you oft found yourself waiting on your porch for the man, your posture straightening and breath hitching anytime you caught a glimpse of red in the tree line. His cool and controlled nature brought a concord you craved, but what really surprised you was to learn that you provided that same kind of solace for him.
One night Technoblade came to your home, battered and bleeding without an excuse or even a word to say. You didn't ask for one, ushering him into your home and sewing him up without judgment. you hoped he couldn't tell you were trying to memorize his beautiful exposed scars while you patched him up, all the while Technoblade was hoping you couldn't feel his nervous heartbeat beneath your small hands as they danced across his skin. He opened up while helping you wash his blood from the various things it had stained, telling you about the less than glamorous parts of him that his ego normally guarded so religiously. telling you of his weaknesses. Technoblade started by telling you about the voices in his mind, about how the voices and his own choices have haunted him. He told you of his deal, a deal that kept him on an endless and deathless trek across this phase of existence, the deal that made him a 'god'. And it was while he spoke to you, honest, low, and vulnerable, with the fireplace painting his features in a divine glow, that you realized a handful of things.
You realized that Technoblade didn't die, but that didn't mean the man didn't bleed and feel each wound and that just because he'd been alive for at least a century didn't mean he had lost his humanity in that time. you also realized that at some point between the late-night visits and heart-to-heart discussions, that you had fallen for the piglin hybrid, hard. The fact that he had bled all over your floor and told you that voices aside from his own crowded his mind, didn't deter your heart from how it felt about the hybrid, if anything it did the opposite. It was because of the weaknesses that he decided to share with you that made him far more perfect than any legend could describe him to be.
You would describe yourself as yearning for his visits after that night. Realizing your feelings is always invigorating, on the flip side, however, being unable to act on them is equally agonizing. Whenever you got to spend time with Technoblade you would vie for the blood god’s attention with conviction, even traveling to the village with him and or Philza just so you could get him to laugh at one more joke or share one more story. You leaned into his touches whenever circumstances brought it about and stared after him even when his attention wasn't on you. The thought crossed your mind that you might be lovesick, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry or care when you got Technoblade to smile at you like that.
Looking back you couldn't tell if you were giving lovesick looks first, or if Technoblade was, but either way, it wasn't a long wait until things came to a change in your relationship with the dear blood god. 
Technoblade came to your home late in the night with a grim expression on his face. You let him into your home, of course, and he revealed to you that the voices were getting to him. After asking him how you could help, Technoblade confessed that your presence alone had greatly soothed them out. He went on to confess what other things your presence made him feel, going so far as to show you how your presence made him feel. Needless to say, countless professions and confessions of your own were pulled from your lips that night, not an air of doubt that you and Technoblade had fallen hard for each other.
Sometimes you and Technoblade would feel a bit bad sneaking around Philza, but then that just fed right into the arousal that he didn't know. No one knew the two of you were doing this, no one got to see the both of you as unraveled as you were with and for each other.
It was raining heavily outside, just like the first night you met, although the rain and occasional thunder were impossible to hear or focus on over your unrestrained moans. Technoblade had you pinned and caged under his larger frame, his long pink hair creating a heavenly curtain of privacy around you. One of his hands easily held both of yours above your head as he thrusted into your heat, groaning into your ear whenever you twitched particularly hard. You were gasping with every other thrust, his thick cock feeling as though he was splitting you apart as he hit every spot that made you see stars. Arching your back you squeezed your legs that were wrapped around his waist, drawing the hybrid impossibly closer despite how much he was already stretching you out.
Techno let out a choked moan at the new angle, your own whining moan harmonizing with his, unrelenting in his dominating pace despite the new angle of pleasure. Technoblade used his free hand to press your back flat again, unintentionally drawing sharp gasps from both of you when he applied pressure. looking down to where his hand was on your stomach Techno’s lips pulled into a lopsided smirk, feeling the tip of his bulge move with every thrust deep within you. He chuckled looking back at your fucked out face and glazed-over eyes, your building fifth orgasm evident by the cadence you clenched around him in, his dick twitching inside you signaling that he was close to his own release.
"So good for me." You hear him mutter as you continued to tighten, "so tiny, and yet you take me so good" Technoblade praised, the sweet words going right to your arousal, the coil in your stomach feeling as if it were on fire. Your mind felt broken, only able to remember pleasure and Technoblade you mindlessly babbled as you reached the edge of your climax. Knowing you like the back of his hand, Techno had you coming undone with just a few more sharp pointed thrusts in that perfect spot, obscene and pornographic cries leaving you as you came. Feeling you convulse around him, milking his cock in rhythm with the waves of your orgasm, Technoblade came as well. pressing his hips flush against you, he watched with dark eyes as he rode out his orgasm inside you, the small bulge in your lower stomach visibly pulsing while he finished.
Technoblade nuzzled into your neck and hair, randomly leaving light kisses in between breathy praises, his tongue lavishing over the various bites and hickies he left across your skin. You could only mewl in response to Technoblade’s gentle affections, breathing still labored as you came back down from your high. Wrapping your arms around his neck you returned a lazy kiss on Techno's jaw, grounding yourself with his body and racing heartbeat. Technoblade stayed connected for a while, holding you close until the both of you could breath more evenly, his piglin instincts enjoying the feeling of holding his mate in a protective manner post-coitus. After the fog of his high had mostly lifted, Techno pulled out of you which simultaneously pulled an oversensitive moan from you at the same time.
Letting out a pleased purr, Technoblade softly asked if it was ok to move you before picking you up and cradling you in his grasp to take you to the bathroom. You had almost fallen asleep in your lover’s hold in the short amount of time, though you perked up a bit when lowered into the warm bathwater. You couldn't help but softly gasp when his hands began to reverently run over your body in the bath, gently massaging the pretty bruises and love bites he left along your figure while also washing away any grime, the piglin hybrids hands somehow managed to feel warmer than the bathwater he had drawn for you. Techno joined you in the bath after he had washed your tired body, sitting behind you techno cleansed himself alongside lazily wash your hair. You remained thoughtless putty in his hands, the only cohesive thoughts coming to you being ones of adoration for the blood god. At some point you fell asleep, although, between the exhaustion, warm water, and your lover's touches, it was really inevitable. Technoblade effortlessly took care of you, either way, lifting you from the waters and drying you off before dressing you in one of his shirts that fit you like a dress. He was practically beaming as he carried you to bed, so small in his arms and dressed in his clothes, were you awake you'd be able to hear the happy piglin noises Technoblade was subconsciously making. He passed out almost as soon as he laid down with you in bed, protectively curling around you and pulling you close before heeding the sandman's call and falling asleep, your head tucked snugly under his stubbly chin. 
The both of you were fully aware that Techno would have to leave by the next morning to avoid suspicion from his friends back in the tundra, but you were hardly anxious, the knowledge only making your time together feel more precious. It would hurt more when you actually had to share a kiss goodbye before he would leave the next morning, your body habitually and physically aching to stay by his side, but if there were two things you knew with absolute certainty, it was;
Technoblade never dies, 
and,
Technoblade will always come back to you.
So instead of fretting, you basked in his body heat and natural scent, the both of you content in that moment to let your world begin and end with each other.
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findingjoynweirdstuff · 6 months ago
Text
Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet
The day has finally come.
All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.
It’s time for the Red Banquet.
A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.
---
VOD LINKS:
Captain Puffy
Badboyhalo
Antfrost
Eret
Skeppy
Ranboo
---
- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.
- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.
- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 
- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.
- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 
- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.
Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”
Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”
Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”
Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”
Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”
Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”
Ponk: “Yeah...”
- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing
HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”
...
Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”
Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”
- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 
- HBomb is the DJ.
- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.
- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.
First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.
Next is Eret. 
Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”
Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.
Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 
George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.
Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 
- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.
Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”
- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.
Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”
- Everyone panics. 
- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.
- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.
- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.
- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.
- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.
Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”
Eret: “You’re a monster.”
Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”
Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”
Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”
Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”
- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.
- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?
- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.
Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”
- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.
- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.
Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”
Puffy: “I’m only one person!”
Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”
Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”
Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”
- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.
---
CANON DEATH: FOOLISH
Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg
---
- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.
- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.
- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.
Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”
- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.
- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 
Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”
Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”
- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.
- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.
Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”
Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”
- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.
- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.
Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”
---
CANON DEATH: ANTFROST
Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe
---
- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.
- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.
- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.
Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”
“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”
“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”
- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.
- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.
- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.
- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.
- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.
- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.
Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”
- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.
Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”
“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”
- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 
RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.
- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.
- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.
- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.
- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.
Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”
- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 
- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.
- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 
- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.
- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.
- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.
- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.
- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.
- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.
- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 
- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?
- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 
- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)
- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.
- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.
- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.
- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.
- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.
- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.
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Upcoming Events:
- Quackity’s business opening
- Tommy’s plan
- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”
- Dream’s lore video
- The Banquet aftermath
---
END OF WEEK RECAP:
4/19 - Nothing much happens.
4/20 - Nothing much happens.
4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business
4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons
4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”
4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations
4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.
515 notes · View notes
ptersmj · 9 months ago
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warmer than cuddles
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w/c: 2.4k
warnings: may plays matchmaker and makes some suggestive jokes
prompt: you and peter get caught in the rain and have to share an umbrella
a/n: thank youuu to the angel who requested <3 swear this is my favorite trope to write hehe ☔️
-
one of the many things you and peter have in common is being lazy. it’s sort of the basis of your friendship. you’re not the kids who drink or party or get in trouble. you play board games and eat pizza on his ripped up couch. the riskiest thing you’ve ever done is sneak into a movie.
peter was so paranoid you’d get caught, he couldn’t even pay attention. he kept whispering to you about paying the whole time. you had to drag him out by his hand after the movie ended. the next time you went to that theater, he bought an extra ticket to “make it even.”
that about put an end to your trying new things phase. you went right back to your comfy nights in pajamas. tackling each other for the remote, baking terrible cookies that you just throw out, sharing a blanket to stay warm. what also helps is that you cuddle under it.
all the fun you need is you, peter, and your love for doing nothing. may disagrees.
she’s always trying to get you two out of the apartment. in her words, it’s “unhealthy for developing teens to spend so much time cooped up inside.” peter once asked which mother’s facebook group she joined. you snickered at that. may gave you a warning look.
well, you don’t have a choice to stay in today. she’s kicking you and peter out because she has guests coming over.
“it’s girl’s night,” may tells the two of you with a satisfied smirk. she hangs her raincoat on the rack and comes into the living room. peter squints his eyes at her. “you have friends?” he sounds too surprised for your liking. you flick his arm hard enough to make him go “ouch!”
“peter, we only have, like, four friends. that’s counting ourselves,” you inform him with a laugh. peter drops his head onto your shoulder. “and i don’t need any of them but you,” he says sarcastically, rubbing his cheek on your sweatshirt. “aw, i know,” you coo and rest your head on his. may crosses her arms and shrugs.
“you should do a group play date with everyone! i haven’t heard from ned in a while,” she suggests, your eyes flicking over to peter. he’s biting back a grin. “play date?” you try to stifle a laugh when you ask. “you know what i mean. a hang out,” may nods at her better word choice. peter winces in protest.
“eh, ned will probably wanna go out somewhere. we don’t do that,” he tells may, like that’s a completely normal thing for a teenager to say. you raise a finger in agreement. she laughs in disbelief at you and peter. you’re splayed out on the couch, on a saturday, complaining about doing anything else.
“you two make me feel young.” may’s words are a joke, but her tone isn’t. “you are young, may,” you reassure her and smile a little. peter says nothing. his eyes become hooded as he settles into you more. “look at you two, like some old married couple,” may gestures to you from where she’s standing. she smiles this time.
peter’s face gets hot from the mention of you being a couple. your heart skips a couple of beats. you’re pretty sure he can tell from how close he is.
“do whatever you want, just not here,” she gets back to the real conversation. peter hides his entire face in your shoulder as a form of protest. you pat his back. “and not each other. unless you’re safe,” may adds. “may, please. no,” he groans out, positive he’s all red now. you blink at her in horror.
may knows what she’s doing. peter isn’t the most subtle person, especially not about liking someone. she’s learned all the signs that her nephew is falling. he’s falling for you. she sees it in you, too. the way your eyes soften when they meet peter’s, how fast you are to hug him back or beam at the silly things he says.
you two spend so much time apart from your other friends, you basically are a couple. you’re just not old or married. the only thing you need is a push to realize that.
“ok, we’re gonna go now,” peter decides and pulls away from you. “god bless,” you say only so he can hear. he chuckles at that, you getting up from the couch. giving him a knowing smile, you grab one of his hands. he lets you pull him to his feet while exhaling. he’s already exhausted. may watches and shakes her head.
peter walks up to give her a quick hug. “enjoy girl’s night. love you,” he murmurs as she squeezes him tight. even though they tease each other a lot, their relationship is really sweet. it’s very telling how a guy treats his mother. well, aunt in this case. that thought has always been in the back of your mind.
“have fun!” you grin at may when her and peter pull apart. he comes back over to you and tugs on your sleeve. “thanks, kids. we’ll be done around eleven,” she lets you know. you’re already getting your shoes on and ready to leave. eleven is a while from now.
“don’t forget an umbrella! it’s drizzling!” may calls after you two. peter grabs hers that’s leaning against the front door. it’s pink with purple polka dots. you giggle at that. “hey, i like pink,” he defends himself and opens the door, letting you out first. you raise your hands in defense, leaving the apartment.
peter waves at may one last time. “good luck, peter,” she tells him once you reach the stairs. he furrows both eyebrows. “good luck with what?” “you’ll see,” may raises her own eyebrows in a way that’s all too familiar to peter. he calls it her face of wisdom.
still confused, peter heads out. he finds you at the bottom of the stairs. you shove your hands in your pockets and push against the door to open it. peter meets you outside, twirling the umbrella between his fingers.
“is there anywhere you wanna go?” he asks as you start to walk. you’re just going down the block for now. “back upstairs,” you sigh out. “i wish. not an option, though,” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. you fumble to pull up your hood. he easily reaches over and does it for you.
“thanks,” you say quietly. “you’re welcome,” peter pats the top of your head for emphasis. “we could just walk around.” “until eleven o’clock? that’s five hours from now,” you laugh out, adjusting your hoodie to block your face. disappointment crosses over his features.
“should’ve brought my suit,” he mutters mostly to himself. linking your arm with his, your eyes widen. “i’m not trusting you to swing me around in this weather.” his bicep flexes when your arm wraps around his own. “what? i’ve done it before, y/n/n. on patrol.” you turn your head towards him.
“didn’t you get hurt last time?” you already know the answer. “sprained wrist and a few cuts,” he grumbles, you humming because you’re right. he’d called you in tears when he got home, scared he broke something. you reminded him he would heal soon and stayed on the phone until he calmed down.
that ended up being the whole night. you’re probably the most supportive of peter being spider-man. you of course worry about the toll it takes, but you understand why he does it. the least you can do is be there for him while he navigates the superhero world. not talk him out of it or scold him for making mistakes, be there.
that’s why he loves his lazy days with you so much. they’re his break, his escape from what he lies awake worrying about most nights. you’ve seen what he has to go through, so you respect that. whatever he needs to do to unwind is fine by you. as long as you get to do it with him.
“then you couldn’t patrol for weeks. you could barely hold a pencil.” your other arm sneaks around his. they’re both hugging him now. “you had to be my note taker,” peter reminisces, a smile making its way onto his face. “that sucked, man. you’re such a perfectionist about them,” you breathe out.
peter flips the umbrella around in a show-off kind of way. “you don’t complain when i send them to you.” he sounds so cocky you can’t help but roll your eyes. he isn’t wrong, though. “whatever. seriously, where should we go?” “uh,” peter’s eyes scan the block for inspiration. they land on a man carrying takeout.
“dinner? not at a restaurant since we’re in sweats,” he adds the last part so you don’t have to. “ooh, let’s go to panera,” you happily squeeze his arm. peter quirks an eyebrow at you. “you’re always hungry after.” “so? we can get dessert, too. we have a while.” that makes his heart flutter. a while with you.
“cool, cool, cool,” he sings to you, leaning into your side as you walk. you giggle and push at his shoulder. “i think we can make it there before the rain picks up.” there’s a clap of thunder right after he says that, like something out of a movie. it’s followed by a heavier rain coming down on you two. you pull at the strings of your hoodie to keep it tighter on your head.
“jinxed it,” you remark, both of you stopping so peter can open the umbrella. “ugh,” he grunts out. his lower lip is between his teeth while he undoes the velcro. he pushes down and watches as the umbrella springs open for you two. “here, c’mere,” peter welcomes you under as he holds it above your heads.
it doesn’t quite fit you both since it’s only meant for one person. you forgot he took may’s. the two of you have to squish together so you can avoid the rain, which is pitter pattering down hard on the sidewalk.
you’re comfortable under here with him. the freezing cold weather outside of the umbrella is hardly an issue anymore.
peter turns to face you, letting out a breathless laugh. “you can take off your hood now.” your arms slip from around his. you remove it from your head and give him a toothy grin. it’s one that’s meant to be over exaggerated. “there’s that pretty face,” peter’s voice gets quieter. unlike what you did, that wasn’t a joke.
your pretty face loses its smile. you’re suddenly very aware of how close peter is to you.
you can see the faint scar on his chin from when he banged it into a wall in your living room. he’d ran straight into it during your two person game of hide and seek. yes, you still play that. it was gushing blood for half an hour.
there are also the thousands of freckles dotting his face, the ones you only notice by looking at him super hard. you try to count them whenever you get bored. peter stares back at you while you fall in love with every tiny detail about him.
he takes the time to admire your lips, not just because they look really kissable right now. because of every curious expression they press into when he does something you can’t believe. your eyes, that he feels a sense of safety and honesty and familiarity every time he looks into. he finds them and feels like he’s home.
“peter?” you speak up after a few moments. your tone is hesitant, as if whatever you’re going to ask will change what you have forever. that’s because it might. it’s silent except for the sound of the rain hitting his umbrella. peter finally answers, almost in a whisper. “yeah?”
“i... i think,” you clear your throat before going on. his eyes trail down to your lips again, then back up to your twinkling ones. even on a gloomy day like this, they could light up the whole sky. “i think i love you,” you get out, a hand over your racing heart. peter gives you a small but sure nod. “i think i love you, too.”
he takes a step closer to you, if that’s even possible. his hand without the umbrella comes up to hold your cheek. you watch as he uses his thumb to wipe away a few stray rain droplets. your head tilts to the side, lips parted on instinct. peter leans in until his lips just brush yours, letting you decide what comes next.
you choose to close the space between you two. his eyes squeeze shut, whole face scrunched up when he kisses back. this is a release of all the emotions he’s been holding in that he didn’t even realize he had. you slip into a rhythm, using the angle to move your lips against peter’s.
his hand drops from your cheek to your jaw to support you while you kiss. your own hands grab his biceps, fingers pressing into him, depesrate to have him in your arms. peter lets out a content sigh against your lips before detaching them. it’s not for long. he comes right back in after taking a breath.
you get one long peck from him, then another that’s softer than the last. you give him a short kiss back, lips curving into a smile when this one ends. peter’s thumb smooths over your jawline while he searches for your eyes. he grins at you and tightens his grip on the umbrella handle. he’s surprised it didn’t blow away in the midst of your mini makeout.
“i definitely love you, peter,” you state so genuinely, hands on his shoulders now. that has to be peter’s favorite sentence he’s ever heard. the most beautiful combination of words, said by you to him. “i definitely love you, y/n,” peter agrees, punctuating his statement with one last kiss. you haven’t stopped smiling when his lips meet the corner of yours.
may was right about two things that night. you needed the umbrella for that huge storm, but it did more than protect your from the rain. it also brought you and peter together in a way. the second thing she was right about was that peter loves you, and every feeling he has mirror yours for him.
actually, she was right about three things. you two have to get out of the apartment more often.
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sunshyngal · 5 months ago
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物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)
Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.
ABO Dynamics.
Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.
Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 
Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .
[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]
Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.
After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.
Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.
“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”
“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”
“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 
Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.
Namjoon hesitated.
“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.
“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 
“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.
“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.
I laughed, shaking my head.
“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”
“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”
How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 
An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 
Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 
How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 
I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 
“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 
“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”
I held my hand up. 
“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”
Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  
“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”
And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 
“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 
Namjoon nodded.
“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 
I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.
 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 
I shuddered in disgust. 
Creep.
Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.
“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 
“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”
“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.
“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 
“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 
Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 
I blinked. 
“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 
“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”
I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 
“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 
“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 
I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .
The woman hated me. 
“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 
Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 
“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 
“He’s in a meeting right now and-”
“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 
It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 
 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 
I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.
After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,
“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 
“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 
“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”
“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 
He was quiet for a second. 
“i’ll talk to him.”
He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 
I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 
“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 
I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 
But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 
“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 
“You’re here.” He said blankly. 
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 
“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 
He hesitated before shaking his head. 
It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 
“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 
“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 
I stared at him, confused.
“For dinner??”
“ Sooah’s parents.” 
Oh, God. 
Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 
“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 
They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 
" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 
We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 
Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 
With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 
On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 
Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.
The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 
I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.
 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.
 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 
And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 
They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 
There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 
“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.
The man gave me a glare.
“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 
“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 
Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.
“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “
“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.
“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 
“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 
Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 
“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 
“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.
“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 
“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 
“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 
i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.
“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 
She gaped at me. 
“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 
She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 
“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 
She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.
“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.
“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”
“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 
“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 
i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 
“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 
“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 
They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 
“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 
The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 
“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 
I stared at him in disbelief. 
“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 
His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 
He took a deep breath and went on. 
“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”
“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 
“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “
The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 
“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”
I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 
“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “
He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.
“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 
“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 
“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 
“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 
He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 
“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 
“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”
“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”
I sighed, looking away in defeat. 
“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 
“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.
“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 
I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 
“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 
He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 
“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 
“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "
He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.
“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 
“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 
“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 
Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 
i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 
Coward. 
I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.
“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 
“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 
He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 
“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 
Somehow that seemed to bother him.
He stopped . 
I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 
It made me laugh. 
“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”
“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 
“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 
“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 
He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 
“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 
I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 
“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 
“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 
He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.
“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 
He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 
“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 
He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 
Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 
I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 
Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 
Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 
i was exhausted. 
So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 
It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.
“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.
I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.
“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .
I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.
Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.
“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”
I stared at him. 
What now? 
He looked nervous and a tad worried.
 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  
“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.
“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.
I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.
“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”
His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.
“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  
I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.
I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.
I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.
So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 
“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”
He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.
“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.
“Wait.”
Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.
“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”
It was the first time he had apologized for anything.
It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 
“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”
He nodded and then stepped back.
“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 
They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 
For now I could only accept them at face value. 
“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”
I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.
"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 
I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 
“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”
“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 
And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 
“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 
Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 
“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 
“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 
“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 
He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 
I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 
“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 
“Its her birthday.” 
I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 
I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 
“What?”
“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 
“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 
He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 
“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 
“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 
I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .
Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 
“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 
He stared at me. 
“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 
I hesitated. 
“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 
Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 
He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 
“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 
Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 
I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 
Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 
On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 
“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 
He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 
“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 
He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 
He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 
He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 
This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 
My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 
“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .
The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 
Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 
“I’ll do it.” 
i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 
I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 
“Lets go shall we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 
It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 
I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 
I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 
But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 
I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 
I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 
Who?
I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 
“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.
“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 
“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.
“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”
“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 
I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 
“there was a man here earlier?”
“Second floor third room.” He said casually.
I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.
“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 
“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 
“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.
“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 
it wasn’t that hard. 
He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 
In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 
But,
Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 
I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 
And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  
I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 
I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.
Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 
A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.
“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 
Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.
“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 
“Heejin-ah, I’m...”
One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 
“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 
“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 
“No.. No I’m fine.” 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 
“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 
 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 
I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 
“What?”
“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”
“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 
Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 
Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 
“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 
Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.
Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 
“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 
Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 
Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 
“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 
I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .
But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 
I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 
“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 
I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.
“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 
Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 
“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 
“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 
“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 
“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 
His face shifted into a frown. 
“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.
“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 
“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.
“You broke her rib, kid.” 
I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.
“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.
“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 
“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 
“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 
“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 
I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.
Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 
 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 
I gaped.
“Months?” 
“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 
Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 
Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 
“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 
Jungkook blinked. 
“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 
How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 
Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 
I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 
“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 
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milliedazzledust · 5 months ago
Text
Somewhere Only We Know (Bucky Barnes imagine)
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Request: @the-craziestone story about Bucky x Reader, where Bucky is really obsessed with Reader - But not in a creepy way, more like he's really really in love with her and he can only see her, like she's his world Anon: can you do something with reader gifting Bucky Barnes the 3 Lord of the Rings books? They were published after WWII, and reader knows he liked The Hobbit so she thinks it's something he'd like
Words: 2943
A/N: this is pure fluff with no warning, also I changed a tiny bit the second request to fit the story - enjoy ;)
He couldn’t explain the sadness he constantly felt every time he was walking through the streets of the city he used to know by heart. A stranger in a strange land was the best way to describe him. More than seventy years had passed, and he hadn’t witnessed any changes. While he had been a puppet deprived of freewill and controlled with the sole purpose of killing, he had missed the birth of a whole new world. Now, as he strode around the streets, he could easily remember each of their names, but none of them were familiar. His mind remained in the 1940’s and in the middle of the noises, surrounded by the sound of first responders vehicles, the children running around and cars piling up on the road, he was a stranger in his own home. It was an unsettling feeling, a pining melancholy that reminded him in every step he made that his Brooklyn didn’t exist anymore. 
He was furious in a way, but mostly confused. Haunted by memories he had gotten back a second ago, and they didn’t fit this new reality. He wasn’t even nostalgic, but the loneliness was getting heavier every day. He could still picture the park he used to take his sister, the alley where Steve had gotten beaten up one day, the bakery his mother used to go to every morning. Treasure of souvenirs he would keep forever. And although the park, the alley and the streets names were still here, he was left alone walking down Brooklyn. 
“Hey, Y/N!” He heard a voice shouting. “Where do I put those ?” 
His head mechanically turned to a young boy carrying a heavy box of what looked like antics. Without thinking he crossed the road and when his eyes laid on the small shop, he gasped. There it was, one small piece of his past still here. It was an old bookstore he used to go to with his sister. The man, a friend, an immigrant from France with a thick accent, would let them stay for hours. Bucky loved reading to Rebecca. They would sit inside and she’d insist to hear The Hobbit. François, the man owning the store, would make coffee and stay with them, relating the stories he had heard around the world, telling them all about the France he had known. It was all still here. ‘Au Nom de la Rose’ was still here. 
He didn’t hesitate a second and rushed inside the place, an honest smile on his face. His eyes roamed over the room and he took a deep breath. It was just like he remembered, a place filled with murmurs and whispers floating above his head and through the roof, indistinct conversations between friends, huge windows bringing in a powerful light at this hour of the day, plants in almost every corner. Even the atmosphere was the same, this powerful smell of imagination coming from the laying books on the shelves, begging to be read, mixing with a distinct smell coming from the dust. The small couch and the old table he used to sit by with his sister were also there. The wooden pieces had many rough and sharp edges but looked just as smooth and clean as he remembered. Finally, his eyes landed on a woman there. He watched her rearranging a bouquet of daffodils, breathing in the perfume of the vibrant flowers as she tended to them meticulously. 
For some reason, he couldn’t look away. She felt familiar, like he had known her all his life, yet he had never seen her before. When she turned around he took an instinctive step toward her. She noticed, raised her head and that was the moment their eyes met. His breath caught in his throat when she smiled at him. He stood, frozen on the spot, staring at her. He couldn’t comprehend that instant connection. There was an inexplicable sense of excitement yet weird feeling that they had known each other forever, that they were meeting each other again after a long journey. He was transfixed, almost stuck by the confusing mixture of emotions but oddly comforted by them - all at the same time. 
“Can I help you ?” She asked him.
He surprised himself thinking there was something eerily calming about her voice, that he could listen to her for hours.
“Do I know you ?” He quickly wondered out loud, mentally facepalming himself for his lack of tact. 
“Shouldn’t I be asking that question ?”
“Why ?”
“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes” She grinned.
“I’m … I’m sorry” He apologized profusely. “I didn’t mean to…” 
“Look weird ?” 
He could swear his heart skipped a beat when he heard her laugh.
“This place is beautiful”
“Thank you” 
“How long have you been working here ?”
“Forever” She smirked. “The store belongs to my family. Passed on from generation to generation” 
Bucky raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“You’re related to François Y/L/N ?” He questioned.
She tilted her head, crossing her arms.
“Now I’m intrigued” She told him. “How do you know about my grandfather ?” 
“We’ve met,” He answered without thinking. He rapidly realized his mistake when she narrowed her eyes in utter curiosity. “I … I didn’t mean … I mean … It was … It was a long time ago”
He gulped, hoping she wouldn’t push it. She looked him up and down, assessing him. 
“What’s your name, weirdo ?” She inquired, giving him a skeptical glance.
“Bucky. M’am” 
She smirked.
“Let me guess, a soldier ?” 
“How … ?” 
“You all have the same manners, and the same eyes”
“What do you mean ?”
She was now standing in front of him, staring at his face with the most adorable smile he had ever seen.
“You carry the same sadness and the horror you’ve seen” She replied honestly. “My father was a lot like that too” 
Her answer had the effect of a punch in the gut he hadn’t been expecting. He felt naked under her gaze, a stranger with the power to see through his soul.
“I’m Y/N” She introduced herself, raising her hand to shake his.
It was rare for him to smile truthfully but the unexpected bliss slowly growing made his lips twitch before he could even acknowledge it.
“Hi, Y/N” He greeted her.
She chuckled, amused. 
“Hi, Bucky” She murmured. 
After that encounter, he made a point of coming back as much as he could. He stayed for hours sitting on the couch, reading the same book over and over again. They shared quick words but he didn’t dare to start up a conversation, too afraid he would say something he shouldn’t, something that would scare her away. He was content like this. There was no Winter Soldier, no war, no fight, no one else than Bucky. Being next to this girl was in itself a medication for him. It made no sense but she was so bright and radiant. Like a magnet, he was sucked into an invisible gravitational pull toward her.
By the second week of him coming into the store, she started to notice the small marks of attention. He would come so silently she wouldn’t hear a thing, bringing a fresh cup of coffee he would lay on her counter when she wasn’t looking, replacing the daffodils before they could fade, carrying the heavy boxes filled with new books. When she wasn’t working, she would grab something to read and sit next to him. They would exchange a smile but wouldn’t talk. The proximity was enough. Their presence was louder than any word. A quiet routine they were slowly creating. 
By the fourth month, nothing had changed and that day was no different. Rain was pouring outside and the store was empty, except for Y/N and Bucky. Just as usual, he was reading in a corner while she was working. New stacks of books had arrived and she was methodically putting them on the shelves. Standing on a ladder, on the tip of her toes, she was so focused on the task she had failed to notice the soldier walking up to her. 
“Do you need any help ?” He offered. 
Surprised to hear his voice so close to her, she lost her balance and slipped. She yelped as her ankle hit one side of the ladder and automatically closed her eyes, anticipating the fall. She tried to brace herself but before her body could touch the ground she felt something cold holding her waist. Suddenly, instead of laying on the floor, she was against his hard chest, in a protective embrace. She recognized his arms around her and shivered at the odd coldness. He  felt it immediately and was quick to put some distance between them, making sure his metal arm was no more on her body and only his human hand was steadying her. 
“Are you alright ?” He questioned. She pursed her lips, trying not to show that she was hurt when she heard how worried he sounded. 
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine”
He looked skeptic but didn’t say anything about it.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” He apologetically told her.
He took the books scattered on the ground, putting them away, and helped her walk to the couch.
“You know, if the goal was to literally make me fall for you, I’d say you did a pretty good job there” She flirted, making him chuckle. 
He sat on the table in front of her and grabbed her calve, gently laying her leg on his thigh to assess the damage. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her blushing. It made him insanely happy to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their closeness. They tried not to look at one another, too embarrassed by the situation. This was the closest they had ever been and the touch on his skin on hers was more than enough to make her heart ready to jump out of her chest. When he clasped her injured ankle, she cried and instinctively pushed him back. 
“Fine, huh ?” He repeated her own words with a smirk.
She huffed and rolled her eyes.
“It’s not a big deal, Bucky” She reassured him. “I’ve got to get back to work”
“You’re not moving from this couch” He ordered.
“Is that an order, soldier ?” She ironically threw at him, crossing her arms in annoyance.
“You bet it is”
She watched him, intrigued, as he stood up and piled up some books on the table to put her ankle to rest on it. 
“No moving around, got it ?” He made sure she would follow his advice.
“Aye, aye, Captain”
He chuckled 
“Technically speaking, I’m not a Captain” He confessed as he continued what she had been doing earlier and started putting the books carefully on the right shelves. 
“Would you have preferred Sergeant ?” She replied, bitting her lips, unsure this was the wrong moment to admit she knew who he was.
He instantly stopped what he was doing and slowly turned around to stare at her.
“What did you say ?” He asked, more scared than ever.
Up until that moment, he had avoided telling her who he was. Becoming part of the Avengers meant his identity wasn’t a secret anymore, and although he had done a terrific job staying hidden among the mass of people, it wouldn’t have taken more than a little push to find who he really was. He stood in front of her, frozen, not having a clue how to react.
“Sergeant Barnes, isn’t it ?” She sounded nervous, almost frightened to say his name out loud.
“I… “ He tried to say anything, but as the rain kept pouring outside, slowly turning into a thunderstorm, he blankly stared back.
“Would you have told me ?” She whispered.
“Eventually”
She humorlessly snorted. 
“We’ve known each other for more than three months, Bucky. I see you practically every day. Be honest, eventually would’ve never come” 
“It’s not like that” He tried to explain.
“I’m not mad, don’t worry” She sadly smiled. “I just wish… I guess I wish you could’ve trust me” 
He rubbed his jaw in frustration and made a step toward her. Without breaking his gaze, he slowly took the glove off, revealing his metal hand. Still, he didn’t look at her, too afraid of her reaction. The cold metal had never felt so hot against his skin, a burning reminder of the stranger he had become.
“I didn’t want you to be scared,” He admitted in a broken voice. 
“Of you ?” She was surprised. “Why would I be ?”
“I’m not a good man, Y/N”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that ?” 
“You don’t understand…”
“The red box under the counter” She interrupted him. “Can you take it for me ? And turn the sign of the shop, we’re closed.”
He gave her a puzzled look, but did as she said anyway. He locked the front door and took the box she asked for before walking to her and putting it directly in her hands.
“Sit” She instructed him.
He didn’t dare to stay near her and chose to stay on an opposite chair.
“I found this a little after you and I met” She told him, motioning to the box. “It was in the basement, hidden under old junks my parents had kept over the years”
He let her speak, not understanding where this was going or why she was telling him about that. She slowly opened the mystery box and took a small envelope out of it. It looked old, so old the paper had turned into a deep shade of yellow.
“My grandfather wrote this” She confessed. “In 1957. It’s addressed to Bucky and Rebecca Barnes. I believe it belongs to you” 
She handed him the letter that he took with shaky hands.
“How did you… ?” He started to ask.
“It was a long shot,” She explained. “The first time you were here, you said my grandfather's name like it meant something to you. Like you really knew him. When I found the box, and the envelope, I didn’t make the connection with you right away. But your name was all I needed to start my research. My parents kept pretty much everything so it didn’t took me too long to find an old photo with you and him, back in the 1930′s” 
He wasn’t moving at all when she showed him a picture François had taken of them right before he was enlisted. 
“I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you, I guess. I mean, you have enough ghosts as it is”
“Still not scared ?” He inquired in a humorless chuckle.
“Not one bit” She didn’t hesitate to reply.
She softly smiled and motioned for him to come closer. When he sat next to her, she moved the box from her lap to his. 
“We were friends, François and I” He recalled, his eyes glued on the letter. “He was married to Eloise. This bookstore was their treasure. He kept repeating that I shouldn’t go to war when I could stay hidden under the pages of books that would take me around the world without risking my life”
She took his metal palm between her fingers when she heard his voice breaking. He almost tried to remove it but she tightly entwined their hands together.
“Maybe he was right” He muttered under his breath.
“Or maybe you and I were meant to meet almost a century later” She shrugged.
He snorted before turning around the envelope to open it. Y/N gently laid her head against his shoulder and let him read in silence. She didn’t move when she felt his body shaking with tears but only held his hand harder.
“They’re originals, from 1954 I think. He kept them for you” She told him as he slowly took what was in the red box. A set of three old books. “Why Lord of the Rings, though ?” 
He laughed,sniffing, before brushing the tears off his face and staring down at the woman. At that very moment, he felt like the journey was done. His soul had stopped the search it had been on for a time that felt like forever. Like a century. 
“My sister and I, we used to come here often,” He said in a melancholic grin. Sorrow was finally starting to be replace by something much better, happiness. “We would sit on this very couch and she would make me read the Hobbit. She used to love that story so much.”
“How many times has she make you read it ?” The woman smirked.
“Enough to remember every single word” He exaggerated, making her giggle. “When I told François I was leaving, he said he would send me books to help me travel away from the war, even just for a moment. I guess he kept them, hoping I would come back. Even after I was declared dead” 
“Maybe deep down he knew you weren’t”
“And he planned this whole meeting with his granddaughter ?” He ironically added.
“Oh no, that was beyond him. That was fate, Barnes”
“I was meant to find you” He agreed, a deep feeling of love and utter contentment forming in his heart. He bent his head down and let all he needed to say be spoken through the kiss they shared. 
“Will you read it to me ?” She playfully requested.
Overflowed with joy, he smirked and kissed her forehead before opening the old book on his lap. There it was, the only choice he needed to make. The only home he had yearn to create. Her. 
498 notes · View notes
wholesomestyles · 5 months ago
Note
Do I check this page everyday for part 2? Yes
Do I have weeks full of tests? Yes
Do I care about them? 404 error
If any of my teachers reads this
I’m anonymous bitches
Just kidding please pass me
this is my favourite ask ever.
hi hi hi. you guys she’s finally here!! thank you for loving the first part it means a lot to me <3 i don’t even know why i bother to saying “a week” when i KNOW there’s no way in hell that i’d finish in a week. anyway, i’m so sorry for the delay, i have finals going on, and i cannot be arsed w/ them.
also, if y’all like this fic, pls pray for me because it’s almost 12:00 am here, i have my history final tomorrow morning at 7:00 am, and i’ve not touched the portion, and i spent half of my day writing this. okay bye. i gotta study. enjoy the fic! also it's not proof read so i might've slipped between you/her in places, pls don't mind.
requests and feedback are open: here
masterlist
find part one here
word count: 3.6+
warning: ANGST w/ a hint of fluff. and slight profanity, but nothing major, just the f word and stuff?
ps. i don’t like (y/n) here, all she does is cry. but i’d do the same so eh.
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It’s around 11:00 pm when the sound of his phone constantly ringing woke Harry up from his slumber. After Sarah and Mitch cancelled their plans for the evening, Harry had let himself fall asleep. He’d been so tired lately, trying to record, and write the last few songs, while dealing the new problem his girlfriend had created for him, all of it was taking a complete toll on him. His girlfriend of two years, who didn’t even have a twitter and had only around 30 friends from back home on her instagram, because she knew how easy it was to get caught up in the negative side of it, did this. He tried the ignore his phone, but when it wouldn’t stop ringing, he grumbled and answered, “What do you want?” Had it been any other situation, Jeff would’ve teased him saying something along the lines of, ‘well hello to you to sunshine’, but today he decides to cut the chase, and just get to the point, “I just wanted to update you before I talk to your lawyers, we found him”
“What the fuck are you on about, exactly?” Harry snarled, although he had a small inkling and if that was true, Harry was fucked. “It was an intern who worked at the studio, he snuck a recording device in the booth the night you booked it for.”
“So it wasn’t (y/n)” although Harry knew that it was completely unlike you to do something like this, there was no other logical explanation that he could think off. Until now, now it made perfect sense how, it was that one song that he sang only for her after their date night that got leaked, how it he the audio had her sniffling in the quiet parts of the song, and how once the song ended, he could hear the sound of her feet walking towards him, and her soft whisper of ‘Oh H’ that was definitely not a part of the song. “What? Harry of course it wasn’t her!”  Jeff and Harry cash out a few more details on how to deal with the situation at hand, and they just decided to have a meeting first thing in the morning and hung up.
Harry walked into the kitchen, and reached for the microwave where (y/n) had started to leave his food from him to heat, while he tried to work up the nerve to go into his bedroom and apologise to his lovie. Opening the microwave, he found it empty, frowning, he checked the fridge and there was no sign of leftovers that she left for him. He looked around the kitchen to see no sign of her having made anything, or having eaten her dinner. That’s when it hits him, he kicked her out.
Harry looked around the house that he had shared with (y/n). Their dream house. The house they had built together. Maybe she is still here, just away from his sight in some quiet corner? He sighed and got up to walk up to their shared bedroom where he thought she was, when he didn’t see her, he went to the kitchen, and then knocked on the bathroom doors, and then the porch when he realised it was pouring. He repeated this, his hunt getting more and more frantic, until he accepted that she was gone. Sure their fighting had progressively gotten worse and he said some very hurtful things, but he had never expected her to actually leave. He would never have expected it. Where could she even have gone? She knew like four people in the city, she was still pretty new here and did not know her way around other than back and forth from work. 
(y/n) on the other hand, was now changed into warm clothes and was sitting in Sarah and Mitch’s guest room. The weeping and overthinking has completely tired her out. There was a soft knock on the bedroom door, and when (y/n) uttered a week “come in, it’s open”, Sarah walked in with two steaming mugs in her hands. “I’ve put your clothes in the wash, they’ll be clean and ready for you if you need them. And I thought I’d get you some tea and company, if you want to talk about what that idiot did. If not, we can just watch FRIENDS or something,” (y/n) let out a sigh of relief, whatever was happening hadn't affected her friendship with the few people she knew. She didn’t really know if she should be talking about Harry to one of his best friends and bandmates, but she also knew that she had to get it out of her system.
"Sarah, I just don't understand,” she was truly unable to understand what was happening. Harry was it for her. Harry was the one she was meant to be with. They had survived so much, they had shared so many experiences and dreams and now he was walking away from their relationship, and he didn’t even have the balls to say it to her. It truly felt as though this was breaking her. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. They had planned a life together, a future, and now he was asking her to leave? She felt as though her heart had been ripped out. “We’ve not spoken in two weeks, not a word,” Sarah’s lips part with the realisation of extent of her friend’s and bandmate’s idiocy, but she quickly shuts herself up, letting (y/n) continue. 
“I’m pregnant” She whispered, tears threatening to spill over once again. This was the first time she uttered the words, and she wished the circumstance was different, “I was going to tell him when he kicked me out.” Through all of this, though, she knew she just wanted Harry. That version of Harry who treats her so softly and carefully, it was all that she needed right then, and this made her feel so pathetic and small, and that hurt. Harry was her safe place, the one place she knew she would be loved and cherished for and it hurt that he didn’t care about anything to do her with lately.
Realising the gravity of the situation and (y/n)’s heartache, Sarah quickly wraps her into a hug, whispering an “oh sweetheart” into her ear. “He saw me, you know” she quickly pulls away to look at Sarah and then looks away, “he watched me get sick each time I made breakfast or dinner, he saw me running to the bathroom everyday but he didn’t question it.” (y/n)’s eyes are burning with all the crying she’s done, “I’ve been throwing up multiple times everyday for two weeks, and he doesn’t bother to ask what’s wrong, or..” (y/n) feels something coil around her heart, disgust squeezing around her lungs, “Does he hate me that much?” 
Exhaustion took over her body and she drifted off to a heavy sleep. Sarah on the other hand, was raging, she hasn’t known the girl for a long time, and most of the girls that tag along with Harry don’t impress Sarah much, but she’s seen (y/n), and the kindness and love that ran deep in her bones, and she has also seen how her accommodating and gentle nature has been used against her. In fact, while Mitch had welcomed her with open arms, Jeff and Sarah herself had questioned (y/n)’s kind behaviour and claimed that she was being fake, but quickly learned otherwise when, more than once, (y/n) went out of her way to do something for them, even if Harry wasn’t involved. Sarah had come to love and care for the girl sleeping in her guest room, and a wave of protectiveness washed over her as she picked up her phone, to yell at someone who claimed to be (y/n)’s fiercest advocate.
“You imbecile!” Sarah snarled the moment Harry picked up his phone, “Sarah, not ri-” “She never brings her phone inside the studio.”
“What?”
“(y/n), when you first brought her to meet us, it was in the studio,  Jeff and I weren’t very happy about it and I didn’t trust her. She picked up on it somehow, and we had a chat, ever since that day she leaves her phone in the glove compartment of the car before coming up. Even after we all of us fell in love with her, till today, I’ve never seen her walk into the studio with a phone.”
“Sarah I messed up. I can’t find her.” Harry was desperate and frantic, but more than that he was worried. “I don’t know where she is., I went to her office, and to th- oh god, it’s raining, it’s raining and she’s not been keeping well. What if she gets sicker?” Harry wanted to cry when he remembered how indifferent he was, to her tears and her health. He knew she wasn’t the best at taking care of herself, if her stomach felt queasy, she’d skip eating altogether because what if she threw up, yet he had seen her get sick more times in the last few days than he had been in his entire life. Suddenly a plethora of questions rushed to his mind, had she gone to the doctors? Was she seriously ill? He had heard her crying through the nights, was it because of him or was it because of something else. But what gnawed him the most was, why wasn’t he thinking about all this before now? When did he become so cold?
Despite his stupidity, Sarah knew he was already beating himself over it, and while she was pissed, she knew keeping him unaware and worried about her whereabouts would do nobody any good, “She’s with Mitch and I, Harry. She’s sleeping now, but she’s okay.”
“I’m coming over.”
“She’s asleep Harry, you should slee-”
“Sarah please.”
“I’ll make you a cuppa then”
~
Harry felt a sense of relief wash over him when he saw a lump of (y/n) safe and fast asleep, with the comforter pulled all the way over her head, a piece of his heart broke when he remembered that she did that when she felt scared or lonely. It wasn’t until he really saw her, did he realise how much he missed her, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with her and hold her close to his chest, but he knew better. He bent on his knees and caressed (y/n)’s sleeping form and pressed a gentle kiss on what he assumed was her shoulder and walked out of the room.
“I’ve left you a few blankets, you can take the couch, don’t drive home now” Mitch offers when he sees Harry step into his living room again, “Do you want me to heat up some leftovers for you?” but instead of responding, Harry took a seat next to him and whispers, “I screwed up, and I don’t know if I can fix it this time”
Mitch and Harry have been friends for a long time now, they’ve seen a lot of each others sides, he has seen Harry crack shitty dad jokes to lighten up a tense room, he has seen Harry high as a kite, he has seen Harry flirt and if he was feeling cheeky, then he’d playfully flustered Mitch too, and occasionally, he’d open up to how he feels.  But Mitch can’t seem to remember the last time he’s seen Harry cry.  But as the tears trace down his face, Harry tries to recall the last time he held you closed, kissed you, spoke to you, or just told you that he loved but he can’t. He’s shaking a little, trembling and vision blurry, the empty place in his heart hollowing where he felt whole just a few weeks ago. 
It takes joint effort by both Mitch and Sarah to get Harry to calm down, eat a little, and sleep, but somehow, they convince him to drift off for a few hours. But when his eyes open, they immediately fall on her laughing figure as she is talking to the couple in front of her about something. He is up in a second and he clears his throat and walks upto the three of them, his gaze fixed onto her, forcing his lips into a smile.  “Hi lovie,”  The words die in his mouth, they are a little too flat, a little too short. She looks up and mets his eyes. It isn’t like the stares full of quiet hope that she’d been giving him yesterday evening, it is a quick stare, one of mistake, and heartache. She says nothing.
“Sarah, do you think I can borrow a formal shirt? I can wear my skirt, but it’ll be weird if I show up at work in the same shirt.”
“Yeah, why don’t you hope in the shower, and I can get it for you.” (y/n) nods and gives her and Mitch a grateful smile before walking away. Harry is quick to follow her, and slip into the guest room, “Please come back with me, we need to talk” he gently tries to reach for her hand, eyes widening when he sees she flinch away.
Was she scared of him?
“Now you want to talk to me, what happened to the good talk we had yesterday?”
Harry takes in breath when he recalls his words from the night before, “Good talk?” Although she had gone to bed sad and lonely, (y/n) had woken up pissed off. She was fuming, how dare he come here and call her ‘lovie’ after treating her like a nobody for weeks? 
“(y/n), I’m sorr-” “I’m late for work H, you know, the one that pays for nothing?” Her words are cold, but her voice isn’t, “I need to work, you know the thing that pays for this house, and almost everything else?”, both of them can hear the echo of Harry’s patronising speech, breaking their hearts a little.
“Can we please talk? Once you’re off work.” Sighing, (y/n) nods, gripping the bathroom door’s handle, already planning her escape, “I need to tell you something,” she whispers, her anger slipping away. She figures she should just drop the bomb and paint the complete picture before his eyes, so that by evening, he can decide, whether this whole, ‘let’s talk’ thing is worth it or not. Harry looks at her with hopeful eyes, urging her to go on.
“I’m pregnant, Har.” She looks away from his intense gaze, “You haven’t even looked at me in days and I’m questioning if you still want to be with me while I’m having your baby.” She whispers. His mind begins to clear as soon as hears those words, “We’re having a baby?” Excitement flows through him, but then he remembers the way he treated her like dirt, and he remembers, he remembers why they both were in Mitch and Sarah’s guest room and not in their own home. Bile and disgust slithers its way into his mouth, an overwhelming wave of guilt washing over him. Harry feels his heart crack. 
“I'll be home around 6:30” and with that she walks into the shower, but his hand meets her wrist, “You’re it for me (y/n). And I know you’re late and don’t want to talk, I’ll respect that, but I don’t want you to, even for a second think that I’m abandoning you or our baby, that is, if you want to keep it. I’m sorry that I’ve done a shit job at proving otherwise lately, but I love you.”
“Let go,”  your voice is soft, yet he can sense the hurt in it and reluctantly, he drops your hand and watches you disappearing into the shower. 
~
“Someone leaked my song” (y/n) had come home from work, and as she freshen up, Harry made them a cup of tea. Now, they were both sitting on their bed, with a noticeable distance between the two. Their backs were against the headboard, Harry’s head was turned in her direction while (y/n) stared ahead at the blank TV.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice is quiet, it trembles in the room and floats in the air. Harry stares at his feet, he can feel his breath in the back of his throat and he pushes down the dull ebbing of pain that slices at his heart when he hears the hurt in her voice.  “I thought you - you did it,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  “I’m sorry.”
Her face is stony, eyes are closed to stop the tears.  “I would never.  How would - why would I?”  She tries to fight off conflicting emotions she feels, she is sorry this happened to him, she cannot even imagine what he must’ve felt, she knew how much time, energy and effort he poured into each song, and to have all of that disrespected this way, it must’ve been horrible, she also feels guilty for not pushing him harder to talk to her, for not being there when needed her, for not using her social media often, had she done that, she was sure she would’ve known, but mostly she can  feel her heart break because he thinks so poorly of her. Her face melts, she finally turns to him, “Do you not trust me?”
With a lot of apprehension, Harry’s hands reach for hers, and when she doesn’t pull away he fiddles with her fingers, and nervous habit that he had picked from her.  His eyes are pricking, while she is all out of tears, she can feel a wave of numbness that washes over her.  “I do trust you.” She shakes her head, “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t think that I would do something like this” she sighs “or if you had a reason to believe it’s me, you’d still ask me why I did something like this” She says finally, her voice rising a notch, “but you didn’t.”
“Do you remember our last date? When I took you to the studio after?” not knowing where he was going with this, (y/n) nods, “Someone pirated it then and I didn’t tell you this, but the song I sang that night, it wasn’t for the album, no one had heard it, except for you. Not Mitch, not Sarah and not Jeff. When I was listening to the leaked tape, initially I thought someone must’ve broken into my iCloud again, but then towards the end, the audio also caught the sound of your voice.”
“Although I would never and you should’ve known that by now, I can see how you thought it’s me, but you still should’ve asked me about it. Given me a chance to explain myself.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry -” Harry cuts himself off and his arms wrap around her, Harry’s hair brushing against her face. He holds her tightly, his arms trembling but finally feeling like he could breath.  “I made a mistake. And I have no excuses and I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to.”  He pulls away, and his eyes come to rest on her face.  “Please.” She leans into Harry’s shoulder, her chest heaving up and down. She might be really hurt and angry, but she still missed him and when he held her the way he did, she knew it would be only a matter of time before she’d let him off the hook, “You broke my heart H, you hated me and that broke my heart.” He traces patterns with his fingers onto her back, and when she looks at him again her eyes are full of devastation.
“(y/n), please. I know. I don’t, I don’t deserve a chance. Not after what happened,” doubt creeps into his mind, it is flooded by sadness. Emptiness.  “But baby, I’m begging for it anyway, because I’m selfish like that, and I can’t let you go.”
“I love you, H. I really do, but it’s going to take me sometime to really let go of this.” His hands come to rest on her face, cupping her cheeks, “as long as you need.” His hands drop down and hover over her tummy as  looks at her, silently asking for her permission, when she nods, his hand hesitantly touches her stomach, he is scared to touch her, as if his touch would taint or poison her and the precious cargo she’s carrying.  But he relishes in the feel of the small and familiar pudge of her tummy against his palm, he had forgotten how comforting it was, to have her within an arm's reach, to feel her skin against his. “I don't know how to fix this (y/n), but I know that I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you and I love our little one”
Harry feels her wrap one off her arms around his waist, and the other one on top of his hand, she tightens her grip silently asking him to meet her eyes, “okay” she whispers, not knowing what else to say. He is quick to pull her into him and press a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret this” (y/n) sniffs and wipes away all the residue of tears and buries her head into the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry your song got leaked, I know you worked really hard on it”
“I’m sorry for being as ass”
Both of them stayed like that, hugging the other close, inhaling the others scent and not wanting to let go, until (y/n) whispered, “do you want to take a nap with me?”
In seconds the two found themselves laying together, bodies moulding into one another, he is a little hesitant when his legs meet hers, but she intertwines them, tugging him closer, “I missed you” he whispers, she sighs, echoing his words and feathering kisses across his jawline as he is tracing the ridges of her cheekbones. A few minutes pass and she has almost drifted off when he randomly pokes her in the arm, “hey, (y/n)?”
“Hm?”
“We’re having a baby”
She opens her eyes to meet his, and smiles, “we are, aren’t we?” turning her head, (y/n) presses her lips against Harry’s for a short kiss for the first time in forever, while mumbling an “I love you”, and in that moment, he knows that for a long time, a question will plague his mind, ‘why is she with me anyway?’ but he doesn’t dare to voice, not wanting to make this conversation about him.
“I love you too”
-
tags: @distinguishednachotale @gublersuvula @hazgoldenstyles @harrystylescherrie @rbforsmileycal @indieslytherin @hazeljean2 @summersylesxplr @everyonehatesori @rougese7en @star-gazing-game @coloursforyourportrait @shamelessfangirl-3 @allierosch !long-live-juicy @sunflowerkixxex @big-galaxy-chaos @txnnights
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