#‘I would die for you’ they would die for a stranger they met on the street. But if it came down to you or saving the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whore-ibly-hot · 11 months

Text

Yan!Farm-boy x Reader

'City Boys ain't worth nothin'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, NON-CON, mentions of exs, p-in-v sex, mentions of religon, mentions of conservatives, bondage, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of divorce, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names, sub-par writing of southern accent.

(AN: Had fun with this one!)

Sitting on your porch, you sip from a cup of sweet tea provided by your lovely Aunt May, when you hear the sound of a truck approaching. A cloud of dust can be seen flying up from the dirt road as the beaten-up yellow pick up from the McCall farm rolls up the edge of your aunt's driveway. A freckle faced, redheaded boy parks the car, and hops out, his face and arms already red from having been working in the sun all day. You huff, but call out to your aunt. "Aunt May! That McCall boy's here!" You yell, a twinge of annoyance in your voice.

Ever since your parents split up, you moved from the city to live with your aunt May in this godforsaken hick town. You've always seen yourself as a city-girl, and just the thought of spending even a month on some dusty farm in the middle of nowhere made you want to gag. Despite the fact you've been here for several months now, the feeling has not gone away. Aunt May is nice, but you miss your friends, and you would rather die than go to another country-bumpkin harvest festival or Sunday service. Your predicament isn't helped by Joey McCall, the youngest son of the McCall family. From what you've gathered, the McCall's have been the largest family in this county for years. While not necessarily rich, they are well-known as salt-of-the-earth people, always willing to help. The McCall family has six kids, with the oldest four already married and starting their own families in the county. It seems that's Joey's goal too.

Everyday, even before you arrived in town, Joey was hired as a farmhand for your aunt, tending to animals and mucking the horses. He took pride in his work, and it only furthered his position as a town darling. When you arrived, despite your arrogance and clear disgust at your new life, he feels that you just need to see how great it is to live in a community like this. Joey hadn't really ever felt anything serious for the girls from town, and some would even say he didn't seem like the romantic type. This was far from the truth, as it was plain as day what he wanted when he would go doe-eyed at the preachers sermons on marriage, and god's purpose for it. He hasn't relented since he met you. Flowers, offering you baked goods, offering to do your chores, whatever you need to get him on your good side. Frankly, you can't stand him. It's not that you hate him persay, but you want nothing to do with this community of red-necks, and you would NEVER sink so low as kissing one of these country bumpkins sons.

Joey hops up the porch with a grin, adjusting the strap of his overalls as he approaches you. 'Aunt May, please hurry up and give him his chores already!' You think, trying to suppress rolling your eyes. "Mornin', stranger!" He teases. "It's a nice morning, sun's not too hot neither..." You nod, trying to simply wait out the conversation. He waits for you to speak, and when you don't, he sighs, but is happy to do the talking. "I'm glad I ran into you, I hadn't seen ya the last few times I visited. I-I sure hope you're not avoidin' me!" He laughs awkwardly, his grin faltering a little when you don't deny that this was your intention. He clears his throat, and quickly turns around, grabbing something from his back pocket. He thrusts his hand out, and a bundle of mixed flowers and weeds rests in it, still covered in dirt. You look disgusted at the half-dead bouquet.

"I don't want that." You say. His hand shakes a little, and he rubs the back of his neck with his free-hand. "Yeah, I understand. I was actually riding Maisie this morning, and by the time I saw these out in the field, she'd trampled right over em' with her hooves." He tosses the bouquet away over the porch, and it falls apart immediately upon impact with the ground. "It was stupid a' me to think ya'd like em'. Worth a shot though!" You open your mouth to retort, but before you can your aunt finally comes to the porch.

"Mornin' Ma'am!" Joey greets, and she responds sweetly, before pointing out a few things round the farm from her spot on the porch she'd like him to get done. He nods, and after grabbing the toolbox he'd always leave by the stairs, he sets off. You decide you've had enough off outside for today, and head back inside, placing your now empty glass on the counter.

Several hours go by, and as you flick through the channels on the tv, (most of which are static due to the terrible signal out here), you hear your aunt call you from the kitchen. As you enter, you can see she's finishing preparing lunch, a salad bowl to her left and a knife in her hand. Her free hands steadies some lettuce on the cutting board. "Hiya kiddo', how's your day been so far?" She asks. You don't hate your aunt, and lie to protect her feelings. "Fine. Just fine." You lean against the counter. "That poor McCall boy has been out there all mornin', hasn't even come in to ask for a glass of water." She sighs. You roll your eyes. "Be a dear and bring him this sandwich, would ya?" You want to say no more than anything, but when your aunt raises her brow and gives you that look, you quickly take the plate and scurry out to the barn.

As you approach, the sound of hammering and heavy breathing can be heard. As you enter, you see Joey trying to patch the gate on one of the horse-stalls. It seems he sent the horses out into the field, as the barn is empty save for you and him. "My aunt wanted you to have some lunch." You say coldly, placing the plate on top of a turned-over bucket which you considered to be the only place clean enough for it. Joey looks up, eyes wide in appreciation. "Well, thank ya' very much! I'll admit, I've been getting might hungry sittin' out here tryna' fix this darned gate." He huffs. He thinks it's a problem with the hinge. You let out a 'hmm', in response, and begin to leave, when Joey abruptly hops up and grabs your wrist. As soon as he sees your face change to one of disgust and shock, he recoils.

"Sorry to spook ya', I just wanted to ask you something before ya' ran of like ya' always do..." He places the hammer down, and his hands come to fidget at his side. "There's a party being held soon, outside the church. It's a picnic on the lawn sorta' thing, we have one every year. It's a real big deal." You raise an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm tryna' ask is if you'd considering going with me? I could show ya' around, help you meet some of the other townsfolk. Hell' ya' could even meet my sisters! I bet ya'd get along swell." His smile become shy, his freckle disappearing into his skin as a bright red blush covers his face. He hopes you think it's just a sunburn. You sigh, and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Joey. I don't think so..." You say. He frowns, but quickly nods. "Nah, I get it. It's kind of a big event. Maybe we could start with something smaller, maybe just the two of us? Say- I know a real nice spot north of the creek, I could take ya down there, a-and we could-" You let out a loud groan, and stomp your foot.

"No, Joey! It's not that I don't want trampled flowers, or I don't want to go to some big event with all you hick's, it's that I don't want you!" You exclaim. His face falls immediately, that light in his eyes extinguished like squashing one of the fire flies you'd see in the fields on a hot evening. "What..." He mumbles, shaking his head a little. "I don't want to date some small-town guy, okay! I don't even want to be in this town. I have a life back in the city, where I belong. Shit, I've got a BOYFRIEND!" You yell. His sadness at your rejection falls for a minute, and he seems to freeze his panicked breaths. "Ya- Ya' gotta' beau already?" He asks, his voice trembling as he swallows heavily. "A beau? What the hell does that mean, some kind of country talk? Yes, I have a boyfriend, and a very handsome one from the city at that." You sneer, turning your nose up at the boy.

"He pretty?" Joey mumbles, licking his lips as his gaze falls to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the odd question. "Yes, he's very handsome." You respond. "S' got a lotta' money?" He asks. You nod again, not bringing yourself to be able to speak at Joeys sudden change in demeanor. When Joey does finally look up again, his face is no longer blushing red, but red with shame and embarrassment. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "W-well, it ain't gonna work out. I know how boys from the city are. They only want one thing from girls... that's what the preacher says." He points out the barn door. "You know Peggy, from the grocery store? She went and ran off with a boy from the city once. H-he knocked her up and left her alone, no where else to go. She came back to town, and she eventually married my brother Samuel. She always says he's the best thing that happened to her. He saved her..." Joey whimpers, his fist trembling at his side. You scoff. "Please, boys from the city have plenty to offer-" He cuts you off. "MORE THAN ME?!" He yells, a sob cracking his voice. "Have you done it with your pretty beau? Has he made you feel good?" You gasp, shocked at his vulgar question. "I don't have to tell you that..." You exclaim. "I'm not asking, I'm tellin' you to tell me." His voice is now filled with an equal tone of contempt, though you don't think it's direct at you, but rather the image of your boyfriend he's conjured up in his head. "He has. We've had sex before, he was my first." You say, swallowing nervously as you try to stand your ground.

"Then lemme ask you one more thing..." Joey huffs. "Is he gonna' marry you? Get ya' a nice house, some pretty dresses, keep ya' safe?" You shrug. "Uh, we're only twenty, we don't need to think about that." Joey shakes his head. "Cause'... Cause' that's what I'd do for ya'. Get you a nice ring, somethin' to match all your pretty dresses and clothes from the city. I'd build ya' a house right on my ma and pa's land, make sure we're still close to the family, but still give us some privacy..." He swallows harshly, taking a few steps towards you. "But most of all, I'd make sure you were safe, safe from any city boy who'd try to get off in ya' and then leave." He's now only a few inches from you. "And I intend to do that." He whispers.

You gasp as his calloused hands grab your wrists, turning you around to face the barn wall. He frees one of his hands up and moves to the stall door he was working on, bumping it open with his hips and shutting it behind the two of you. "L-Let go you brute! Get off of me!" You yell. He rips the red patterned bandanna he usually wears around his neck to keep the sun off, and quickly shoves the cloth in between your pretty, soft lips. As you try to kick, your feet only seem to bounce off the boys firm chest. "That's one thing about us farm boys, we're pretty strong. Firm, ya' know?" He whispers. He forces you to turn over, and you sit on the floor of the stall with your back to the wooden wall of the barn. Joey fumbles around, looking for something. His hand brushes across a rough rope for leading the horses mixed into the hay of the stall, and in just a few moments your hands are bound up to a horse feeder, just above your head. You whine through the gag, tears beginning to fall down your face. He shakes his head.

"Nah, c'mon now... don't cry. It's gonna be okay, I promise ya'." He whispers, brushing away one of your tears with the pad of his thumb. "Don't be scared, I'm not gonna do anything that hurts ya', I just wanna prove to you how good I can be. I realise, I can give you all the things that I said earlier, but... but I know the one thing that city boys have given you." Your eyes widen when you understand his words. He smiles softly. "I know the pastor says we should wait till' marriage, but I kinda need to convince ya' to marry me, and I know now to do that I have to prove that I can give everything some city boy can, and more." His hand comes to rest on your knee, before he uses the palm of his hand to bunch up the fabric of your pink skirt, now smudged with dirt. "Sorry about the location, didn't want anyone to see us. I-I'll buy ya' another dress after this, one even prettier, okay?" He says. Hiking up your skirt, your trembling thighs are visible to him, and the sheer lace of your panties allows him to see you without even taking them off. "Wow, I've never seen something as pretty as this..." His fingers trace the top of the lace, brushing your outer lips slightly. Despite your fear, the contact with a sensitive spot makes you whimper through the makeshift gag. "Maybe I don't wanna get ya' a new dress, maybe I want to see ya' in more of these." He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

His rough hands try to pull down the fabric around your womanhood, though your resistance makes it hard. Eventually, he groans and simply rips the lace in two, tucking it into the pocket of his overalls. "Surely, since this is damaged now, ya' won't need it." He mumbles. He toys with just the fabric in his hands for a moment, his curiosity evident, before he turns back to you. "I'm gonna get a look at ya', okay? See what exactly a pretty girl like you is workin' with." He roughly slots himself in between your knees, making closing them impossible. His large fingers part your folds, giving him a full view of your moist, aroused pussy. He bites his lip, letting out what can only be described as whimper. "G-geez, darlin'. This is definently better than them' health videos they used to show us in the schoolhouse..." He sighs. Joey's face falls for a moment, suddenly insecure.

"I guess you'll be wanting to see me now, too." He removes one hand from your inner thigh, and unclasps the shoulder straps of his overalls. "I-I'll admit, I know there's a little more to all this, but I only really know the basics, so I'm gonna show ya' what I know how to do. Rest assured though, I'm a quick learner." He stammers. His hand is shaking, and it takes several seconds for him to even undo one button on his overalls. Eventually, they fall, resting just below his wait. He lifts his button up shirt slightly, revealing a pair of briefs, and a very prominent bulge. He blushes as he looks down at it, and your eyes widen at the size. "Y'know, I've never had to deal with these before I met ya'. But, sometimes I go home and thinkin' of you is the only way to get em' to go away." His face is even redder with shame. He pulls the briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. It's thick, and veiny. Somehow, it's freckled, much like his face. He spits into his hand, shivering as he rubs it down his length. "Sorry I don't have something better than my spit. I know it's kinda' gross, but, we are doin' it in a barn." He pulls his hips forward a little, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, which against your will is now soaked with arousal. "See, I've already got you wet, I can do whatever that boyfriend back home can do for ya'." He says.

"Listen, I know ya'd said you've had sex with him, but I know it can still hurt a little. So, I promise to be real gentle with ya'." He stroke your face with his free hand, and presses his chapped lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll never get over how much softer you are than me..." He whispers. He begins to hump his manhood against your entrance, biting his lips each time he angles away from you instead of penetrating. "Huh, this is a lil' harder than I thought..." He seems upset at the idea he is under-performing. He takes his hand, and with a solid grip on his member, he pushes the tip just past your hymen, making you squeak into the gag. Before he's even fully got the tip in, his legs are shaking at the feeling. "Oh... Oh lord..." He stammers, fighting the urge to put himself in you all at once. He musters all his strength to pull out, then go back in, just a touch deeper this time. After a few thrusts, he's almost bottomed out in you. Despite your shaking head, your pleas for him to stop, muffled by the gag, soon turn to wanton moans. He places his hands against your hips, allowing him to work himself in and out of you. "God, you're so wet, a-and it's tight... God, didn't know you'd be this tight." He shakes his head though, and leans forward. "Not bad though, not a bad thing, darlin'. You feel so good around me, do I make you feel good too?" In a moment of weakness you nod, prompting him to grin widely. He's so overwhelmed in the moment, from the pleasure and happiness, that his eyes begin to swell with tears. He quickens his pace, almost sobbing now. "My pretty darlin', taking me so well. Making me feel so good, such a good girl. Not city boy could give you what ya' need, not like me..." He huffs. He angles his hips up just a bit, so his tip smacks against a spot deep inside you.

At this, you practically convulse, making him continue once he notices your reaction. "I'll make you finish, don't worry. That's what a good beau does, makes you finish..." He groans, his pace now rapid as he hammers at that spot. Both you can him feel a coil forming in your stomachs, ready to burst. "Hah, I think I'm gonna cum to, you wanna' come together?" His minds fills with thoughts as he thinks more on this while chasing his high. "I already said I-I would marry ya', build ya' a house. We could add on an extra room, for a baby." Your eyes widen in panic at the thought. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave ya' if you got pregnant from this. That's what that city boy did to Peggy, remember?" He moans. "I'd help ya' the whole way. Build our little one a crib, get them clothes, and I'll bet you'd still be beautiful, if your worried about that." He assures you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, as as the coil inside you bursts, you feel yourself cumming around him. He gags, inhaling a breath at the feeling. Soon, you feel him convulsing to, a warm liquid filling your caverns as he groans. "God, you're milking me, taking all my seed. So good for me... C'mon baby, just let me stay in a little more, fill ya' up." He groans. After a few seconds, he finally pulls out, and pants, wiping some sweat from his brow. He makes sure to close your legs, wanting to keep in all the seed. He chuckles a little. "Y'know, I'm sure that seed'll take pretty quick... my dad says all the McCall boys are fertile..." He pauses .

"That's why I've got so many siblings."

#reader insert #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #x reader #yandere #yandere content #yandere fanfiction #yandere oc #yandere boy #yandere farmer #tw.religion #tw.breeding #tw.noncon #oc Joey #yandere farmboy

3K notes · View notes

rinhaler · 7 months

Note

I will kiss you and hold you and pet you and call you a good girl if you write a toji os abt him having a one nightstand with someone and when he’s undressing them he unzips their dress WITH HIS TEETHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA……….. anyways!!! :3

am i a good girl now :(((

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, soft dom!toji (maybe), alcohol consumption, squirting, fingering, face-sitting, vaginal sex, tit sucking, praise, slight degradation, reader passes out for a sec.

words: 2.4k

“Can I buy you a drink?” a handsome stranger asks you as you sit by your lonesome at the bar. You came here with your friend, who has since disappeared since locating her ex-boyfriend. And you suspect he won’t be an ex for much longer. The attention makes you giddy. His scar pulling as he smirks at you, a grin that grows wider when you nod. He pulls out his card and waits to flag down a bar tender. “I’m Toji, by the way.”

You introduce yourself and you curse yourself for how pathetic you must seem. It’s embarrassing, really, feeling so accomplished that a man deemed you worthy enough to talk to and buy a drink for. He’s like a model, possessing a wide build and tall figure. He could have any woman here if he wanted, you’re sure. And despite your inner monologue telling you to act coy, you’re sure you’re a bashful fool.

He orders you the same blue lagoon cocktail you’ve already had three of, and himself a lemonade.

“You don’t drink?” you ask him.

“Nah, it doesn’t really affect me.”

You shrug, slurping the ice cold cocktail through a metal straw you brought from home. He smirks at that, noting that you’re the type to prepare this much for what he’s sure is meant to be a casual night out. And he asks you questions about yourself that you’re so willing to answer. You ask him questions about himself that he answers too, though the responses are surface level and simple. The mystery only adds to his allure.

He's funny, effortlessly. Everything he says seems to make you giggle. You’re a cliché, too, twirling your hair as you hang on his every word. It’s a mix or attraction and intoxication. Is he really so interesting and funny or are you just wet and transfixed by his looks?

Your laughter dies out when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s your friend, coming to say goodbye. She points at her ex and tells you she’s leaving with him.

So much for girl code.

Though she does offer you to hop in the taxi with them so you can go home. But you don’t want to leave Toji. You want to keep making a lovesick fool of yourself for him and maybe see where the night takes you. So she waves and you focus on the older looking man beside you. He licks his lips, his scar glistening under the everchanging technicolour lights flooding the club.

“Wanna get going, gorgeous?” he asks, leaning over to speak into your ear. The rough gravel to his voice rushing straight to your pulsing cunt. You shouldn’t, really, should you? It’s not smart to go home with guys you’ve never met. You don’t know him or his intentions, he could be plying you with alcohol to get you stupid enough to kill you.

“Mhmm.” you nod, dumbly, consequences be damned. If you die, you’ll die by the hand of a man so beautiful you’d think an angel would cry at his presence. He takes your hand, leading you outside and hailing a cab. You at least have the sense to go to your place, knowing your cousin lives a few doors down and will surely here if things go wrong.

He kisses you deeply in the back of the cab, fingers digging into your skin as he squeezes your plush thigh. You moan, lewdly, when he tells you to stick out your tongue and he sucks it before licking it with his own. Tongues tangling as he continues to squeeze and knead your malleable flesh.

“Head on up, I’ll follow you.” he tells you as he pulls out his wallet. You nod, agreeing, whispering your apartment number before clambering out of the car. The chill of the 2am air bites at your skin, and you hurry to the security door. You pull the key from your purse and rush inside.

Toji takes his time paying the driver, grunting as he puts his wallet away and slides out of his side of the car. He slowly skulks to the entrance, smiling when he realises you remembered to leave the latch for him to get inside. He sees a crowd gathered by the elevator and opts to take the stairs instead.

He smirks, gleefully, when he sees you waiting by the front door.

“Watcha doin’, gorgeous?” he wonders.

“Waiting for you.” you confess, looking down at your feet awkwardly as shame surges through your body.

He approaches, slowly. But before you know it you’re looking up at him and caged between his body and your front door. His hands rest against the frame as he studies your blown eyes and nervous face.

“Somethin’ tells me you’ve never had a one night stand before,” he smiles, scar pulling deliciously once again. You can barely form a thought unable to break yourself from the hypnotising mark on his lip. “Unlock the door.”

“I already did…” you gulp, nervously, still unable to tear your eyes away from his.

He likes your answer, picking you up so that your legs wrap around his waist and he lets himself into your home. Your lips lock and tongues clash as he controls the kiss, but your eagerness gets the better of you. Your hips rutting and soft moans pour from you as you portray yourself as a desperate slut for his benefit.

You pout, a little defeated, as he sets you back down. Though the disappoint dies an instantaneous death as he spins you around so your back is to him, pushing you into the wall by your entryway.

“Have you fucked a stranger before, princess?” he asks, brushing your hair from your shoulder and whispering devilishly into your ear. You shake your head, pathetic strings of ‘no!’ spilling from your lips as his fingers explore under your dress and pinch your ass. You bite your lip as you feel his heavy fingers prod at your drippy panties. He huffs out a laugh when he realises how wet you are. “Allllll of this jus’ for me? You shouldn’t have, darlin’.”

“B-Been wet… since you asked if I wanted a drink…” you tell him, giggling a little and hiding your face against the wall.

“No no no…” he objects, tugging your hair softly to draw you out. “Wanna see you, wanna see how you look when I ruin you.” you feel your body flush with heat at his words, turning your head to the side so he can see you again. You place your palms against the wall to brace yourself, not expecting him to pull your panties down your legs from under your dress.

He relishes in how you can barely keep your eyes open as he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt and your panties drop to the ground. You bite your inner cheek, though it does little to keep you quiet as he curls his fingers against your spongy insides.

“Oh fuck.” you gasp, ashamed that you might cum after a few pathetic pumps of his fingers. Though it doesn’t feel right. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t feel like you usually do when you’re close to cumming. “W-Wait.” you move your head and try to close your legs.

“Sh.” he stops you, kicking your ankles to keep your legs open. He holds your head against the wall with his forearm, his breathing heavy in your ear. You shudder when he kisses against it, chuckling quietly when he feels your pussy begin to clench. “Stop clenching, push. It’ll feel good, promise… push against me.” he commands.

You don’t know what’s he’s talking about. Push your body? No, he said stop clenching. You’re trying to keep him inside, keep the feeling inside. But he repeats it. Push. And like he’s the master of your cunt, it listens.

“Good girl, baby…” he praises you as he notes the pressure switch from your tender hole. You moan, and he coos. Faux sympathy as he fucks you dumb on his thick digits.

“Toji! Ngh—!” you moan. Clear liquid jets from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties and the floor beneath. He doesn’t let up, either, still battering his fingers against your g-spot.

“There you go, princess. Good fuckin’ girl… so good for me darlin’.” he moans, too, getting off on your pleasure and the striking realisation that you’ve never squirted before. He’s proud of himself, and he’s proud of you. “Fuckin’ soaked your pretty panties, sweetheart. Dirty little girl…” he teases.

You don’t have the energy to respond, already spent from cumming in such an alien way. He kisses your shoulder as your legs continue to shake. Any logic from the thought of telling him to stop fingering you dissipates when you think that he can you make you cum like that again.

He feels his hardened cock over his jeans as he looks down at the puddle beneath you. Still pumping his fingers against your sweet spot until your eyes roll over white. He can’t take it anymore. The unrelenting inner voice telling him to touch himself. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t stroke his length, even for a minute.

“Don’t move.” he orders.

You stay still, unsure of what he’s doing. Though you whimper as you feel his body press against yours. His head sinks to the top of your dress, and you just about cum again when you realise he’s biting down on the metal zipper, pulling it down with his teeth as exposing your bare back.

The black mini dress falls to the ground into the puddle of your lewdness and your drenched underwear.

“Good girl, stay there.”

He pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside down the hallway, only to be seen by the end of this dalliance. You hear him kick off his shoes and quickly throws away his socks. Eagerly, his pants follow, as do his underwear. He’s just as naked as you, now. And you choke out a breath as you hear him drop to his knees, licking up the mess on your thighs and pussy. But he turns around, sitting on his ass with his back against the wall, without a care for the wetness beneath. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt towards his face.

“Sit.” he instructs.

You do, without pause, moaning boisterously as he sucks at your clit and covers his face in your sweetness. One arm remains hooked around thigh while the other releases, hand in search of his aching length. He plays with himself, alternating between lazy strokes and passionate ones. The taste of your cunt makes him dizzy, unable to believe how much slick you’re producing as he relentlessly feasts on your flesh.

“F-fuck, Toji… finger me, please.” you beg. He’s leaking like crazy, and thinks your request might have come at the perfect time. He lets himself go in favour of pleasuring you, the sound of your sticky cunt squelching with each press throughout your eerie apartment. Neither of you had even found time to turn on a light, the only thing illuminating the room is the filtering light sneaking in through the cracks of your front door. “G’na cum, a-again… holy— s-shit.” you moan.

It spurs him on, maintaining all of his ministrations as he tries to coax your second orgasm out of you. He grunts, loudly, against your sodden folds as you squirt again. His face and hair doused with your release as he doesn’t dare pull away. The sadistic desire to prolong your ecstasy is fuelling him to keep going. He feels like he might cum untouched as he feels your cum cover him.

Your legs give, his burly arms hook around your thighs again in a bid to keep you stable. But his hands wander, impatiently. Fingers grip into your waist as he pulls you away from the wall.

He helps you down, hovering you above his longing cock as he guides it to your spent hole.

“I don’t have any condoms.” he tells you.

“Don’t care—” you assure him, wriggling your hips eagerly. “’m on the pill.”

“Greedy girl,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his cock. You want to scream from the stretch but you manage to refrain. He sets a ruthless pace, forcing you to accommodate to it quickly. “Been so sweet for me, darlin’. Gonna be nice ‘n do all the work for ya, okay? Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you! Thank you.” you babble nonsensically.

His knees are bent as he fucks up into your abused hole, the velocity propelling you forward. Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders for dear life as he takes advantage of your body being in such close proximity to his mouth. He sucks your tits, eliciting a dreamy moan from you. The gorgeous sounds you make for him have his cock drooling inside of your unprotected walls.

It's so sorrowful, really, thinking about how pathetic you both are. He seemed so calm and collected and yet neither of you could even make it through the hallway of your apartment before you were both stripped bare. You thought you’d be fucking comfortably on your bed. But here you are, being fucking destroyed by his monstrously large cock on the wooden, soaking, hallway floor.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he breathes against your spit soaked tits. The admission makes you cream, clenching around his thick, veiny cock as you brace yourself. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna cum again. Can feel it, little cock slut. No one’ll fuck you like this again, y’know.”

“Ah- aaaah—!” is all you can say as a lesser stream of liquid shoots from you once more. The internal bliss you feel makes you pass out momentarily. But you come around quick enough to feel your untainted insides become stained with his white, creamy warmth.

He groans, deeply, bouncing you up and down his length. He wishes there was a light on to see the creamy ring and the messy puddle you’ve created together.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” he tells you, grasping the crown of your head with his palm to guide you into a sloppy kiss. He manages to stand up whilst keeping himself slotted comfortably inside of you. You giggle as you guide him to the nearest light switch, and both of you look down at the mess you’ve made. Shame builds once again and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Awe, pretty girl made a dirty little mess f’me.” he teases you.

“Stop! ‘m so embarrassed!” you tell him, the sentence muffled as you talk into his skin.

“S’okay, rest up.” he tells you, stroking your back soothingly. “Give me a tour, wanna see the next place we can make a mess of.”

2K notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 7 months

Note

please god give me "[ CLING ]: having finally been reunited, the sender pulls the receiver into a tight, overwhelmingly relieved embrace, clinging to them and burying their face in their shoulder" with astarion and gale.

┊ astarion ancunín + f!tav!reader┊ CLING

His voice is a near shriek — full of irritation.

"What is wrong with you, hm?!"

"Astarion, I am not in the mood—"

"Oh, well pardon me, my dear lady," comes the snarl of a snarked jest as he follows hot on your trail, "Had I known you weren't in the mood, I would simply have kept my mouth shut and let you die!"

"I had it handled!" you fire back, throwing your hands in the starry, night air and very much ignoring the inquisitive looks from the rest of camp. Astarion does not let up, in fact he jogs to follow more closely than before — right on your boot heels.

"He had a knife to your throat!"

"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened!"

"God, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever met—"

You finally reach your tent and slam your pack down on your makeshift vanity. Inside, the stolen wares rattle amongst pinched gold and silver. A few scrolls, a few potions; enough to get you and your rag-tag team through the next few days on the road.

You'd embarked into the town at sundown, with Astarion by your side, to pull a few old tricks. You're not a stranger to the silver-tongued methods of a thief. A few plucked lute strings, a few batted eyes. Usually, it's quick work. But, tonight you'd met a bit of resistance behind the town's tavern.

At the edge of camp, it's darker. The moon is hung half-full in the sky, and you gather your matches lighter to ignite your trusty lamp. However, the moment you move to flick the ignition, there's a hand on yours.

"Will you listen to me?"

"I told you," you huff haughtily, "I'm not in the mood, Astarion—"

Suddenly, he slaps the pack of matches from your hands.

It hits the ground a few feet away.

You look up at him, brow wrinkled in shock and confusion.

"...Rude..."

His face is set in a firm frown. And then, suddenly, he's pulling you into an embrace that is as unpracticed as it is rough. Your arms are cramped to your sides as the vampire presses his face hard into the crook of your shoulder. You can feel him huff, and then soften slightly.

Your attitude melts away.

"Don't do that again," comes a quiet, desperate utterance. You swear it will cling to your throat forever more; the sound of his true intentions, "As much as I hate to admit it, you've grown on me."

Your eyes slip shut. "...I'm sorry."

He scoffs. His nose, cold and delicate, brushes the skin of your throat.

Astarion can feel the thrum of life beneath your skin there; a familiar feeling. His heart pangs in want. He knows your scent best — comforting. Home. Even if you aren't entirely aware of it.

...But, he'll keep that to himself for now.

And maybe forever.

┊ gale dekarios + tav!reader ┊ CLING

It's a long trek back to camp — and by morning, you've never been happier to smell the last embers of a fire that's burnt noon and night.

Morning rays, fresh from the dawn, spill over the horizon as you meander into the camp. There's dew on your boots and blood in your hair. The gash along your side has long since coagulated into a sticky, cold mess; your leathers are drenched in all sorts of gore. Not all your own. Most belonging to the three Gnolls who had attempted to take you along with your hunted prey for the camp's dinner.

You lost the boar, your favorite bow, and a good amount of pride in the scuffle.

The moment you cross the threshold of camp, you can taste the tang of magic in the air.

You know, immediately, that it's Gale.

Perhaps it's your own awareness of the Weave, or a particular tenderness for the Wizard himself, but you feel him before you see him.

And then, it's a crushing embrace.

His toiling is long forgotten the moment he lays eyes on you, in all your brutality, and he can't help but surge forward with enough momentum to nearly knock you both breathless.

"Where the hell have you been? Avernus?" he mutters, one hand moving to gently cradle the back of your head. His palm is warm, radiating already with a healing magic that alights the air with the smell of lavender.

"Met a bit of trouble fetching us dinner—"

"Karlach will have your head," Gale says, leaning back to eye you up and down as a warm sweep of light graces your edges. You feel it, like a touch white-hot against bare skin. Intimate. Caring. Different entirely from Shadowheart's healing entirely, "She has been out all night searching for you — Astarion, too."

"I'm fine," you mutter — pointedly keeping the fact you had been chased up a tree by the aforementioned Gnolls to yourself — hands falling to his waist, "And I'm ruining your robes."

"Hush."

The magic pulses hotly, and you slip your eyes shut at the intrusion. His sternness comes robed in warmth. A safe sort of thing.

Gale pulls away only long enough to plant a kiss on your brow.

AS ALWAYS: prompts are here, the ask box is here.

#astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion imagine #gales dekarios imagine #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale x tav #astarion x tav #uber rare birbs formatted post #like #a super shiny pokemon card #baldurs gate imagine

2K notes · View notes

wheeboo · 2 months

Text

hi (i love you) | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you take a trip through random glimpses of your growing relationship with minghao. PAIRING. xu minghao x gn!reader (ft. a mention of jihoon, and gyu and seokmin very briefly) GENRE. fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, established relationship, college au WARNINGS. hao is a year or two older than reader, drinking and reader getting drunk, kissing, terms of endearment at the end, the last scene is a lil suggestive WORD COUNT. 5.5k

notes: yes. this is literally just a compilation fic of them saying hi. ty zanna @slytherinshua for reading this over for me <3 there's like significant time skips between each section - just a lil sum to keep in mind cuz i dont wanna cause confusion or anything 😭😭😭 i find hao the hardest member to write for, so i hope i was able to characterize him well here!

i. "hi." (fallow is the colour of dryness to my mouth when your eyes met mine.)

There's no way in hell you're going to let yourself be lost on the first day of university.

It's embarrassing enough accidentally waking up past your alarm and having barely any time to freshen up as much as you would like, so right now, you couldn't afford another disaster.

Taking a deep breath, you double-check your schedule and the layout of the campus on your phone, trying to match it with the signs around you. The different buildings and hallways of the campus seem like a maze in of itself, and you can feel the slight panic course up your veins. A sea of students rush past you, seemingly confident in their strides towards their own classes. A defeated sigh leaves you.

All you had to do was find the stupid art hallway.

You clench your phone tighter, your iron grip practically burning a hole through the screen. The campus map app wasn't making any more sense now than it did a minute ago. Frustration stings painfully at your eyes, but begging the earth to swallow you whole wouldn't get you to class any faster, so you force yourself to scan the crowd. There's bound to be at least someone who knows where it is and is willing to help you.

And so, your eyes catch sight of the first figure appearing conveniently in your peripheral vision𑁋a boy, dressed in a casual fallow-coloured flannel with a backpack casually slung over one of his shoulders, earphones in his ears, and peering down at something on his phone just like you were doing minutes ago (though he seems to be having a much better time than you)𑁋which was somehow enough for your feet to bolt you towards as if it had a mind of its own.

You feel the root of your nerves creep up your legs and branch up to your neck as you approach him, realising at this point, there's no turning back now. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, bracing yourself for a possible eye roll or annoyed sigh.

His eyes widen in surprise before settling on you, and at that moment, something strikes hard at whatever rehearsed lines you had in your head. It was all gone in a simple snap, from a simple look from him𑁋soft yet sharp brown eyes framed by dark lashes peering at you with a hint of surprise, fluffy dark hair showering down his neck and forehead a little, a dainty pair of silver earrings glinting at his ears. His whole face seems to hold a warmth that somehow eases a bit of the knot in your chest, but certainly not the one in your throat.

You open your mouth, but all the words die on your tongue. The air hangs heavy with a sudden awkwardness, and you can practically feel your cheeks burning. Maybe you should just turn around and pretend this never happened.

But then, you notice the way his lips lift up just slightly, and it makes your stomach do a flip. He glances down at his phone for a second, takes off his earphones, then brings his attention back at you.

"Hi," is all he says, and maybe, just maybe, your heart stops a little bit. It's just a simple word, but the way he says it𑁋all soft, quiet, a tad bit hesitant𑁋makes the fabric of your shirt feel tight on your body.

You didn't notice you were clenching your fists until you force them to relax at your side, clearing your throat in the process.

"Hi," You manage back nervously, surprised at how breathless you sound. "Sorry, I-I don't mean to intrude. It's just... Do you happen to know where the art hallway is? I'm trying to find my photography class."

You watch the way he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, unveiling more of a view of his piercings. He gazes briefly behind you at the clusters of other students gradually spilling into different hallways, hushing the space where the two of you stood. Then he returns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.

"You're not that far off," he comments, seemingly amused. "I was just heading there myself too."

"Really? That's a relief. The campus map is awful and confusing, and I swear this place was designed on purpose for you to get lost in, you know? And being lost on the first day is just..." You quickly shut your mouth up from your rambling, letting your voice fade into an embarrassed chuckle instead.

Your gaze falls to the ground for a moment, and when you pick your head back up to look at him, you catch a glimpse of the small curve that he has at his lips, barely a hint of a smile playing there. It's a small detail, but suddenly it feels like the most important thing in the world, and it throws your train of thought completely off track. He doesn't seem bothered by your little habit of rambling (admittedly, because of nerves), thankfully. Instead, he lets out a soft laugh, the sound washing over you like a warm summer breeze.

You can't help but sheepishly grin back, feeling a certain lightness bloom within your chest that probably has nothing to do with the weight of your backpack suddenly seeming lighter as well.

"It's okay," he reassures, voice as quiet and gentle as his gaze. "Everyone gets lost here sometimes. I've been there."

He starts walking, and you hesitate for a second before falling into step beside him. There's a small part of you urging to get to know him, as if this was the only opportunity to do so, but all the words you want to say sound clumsy and loud compared to the easy peacefulness that surrounds him.

And honestly, it feels... nice.

The hallway he leads you in is perhaps more than just a simple art hallway, the intoxicating scent of oil paint and clay blend together in the air. Paintings by students and faculty of every style imaginable line the walls, some bursting with vibrant colours, others muted and contemplative. Sculptures poke out from odd corners, and bulletin boards are overflowed with announcements of upcoming exhibitions and workshops, even though the year just started.

"Welcome to the art hallway," he beckons you casually and welcomingly, as if only this portion of the campus was a separate entity than others.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding in. "Thank you so much. Wow, this place is, um..." You stop yourself from continuing on, zipping your mouth shut. "I owe you. Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way. If there's anything I can𑁋"

"There's no need." He waves a hand dismissively at your offer, and for a second you feel something inside you sink, but the small hint of a smile to his face chases that feeling away just a little. "And it's Minghao... yeah. I'll see you around."

Before you can say anything more, you watch as he turns himself around and swiftly enters inside the room standing right behind him. A painting class.

(You are eight minutes late to class when a near-clear picture on the wall catches your gaze. It looks like a picture of Minghao standing next to a particularly vibrant painting of abstract art, and your heart swells just a little bit more.)

ii. "hi." (laurel is the colour of the grass that you lay on with me, gazing up at the same sky together.)

There was a time during Minghao's first year of college where a friend of his𑁋Lee Jihoon is his name𑁋called him crazy and bonkers for spending majority of his day outdoors rather than inside. Obviously, Minghao didn't exactly care, nor was it insulting in the slightest knowing Jihoon's stubbornness and tendency to stay holed up in his room buried under piles of music textbooks.

But he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the outdoors more than anything else, like from the way the sun kisses upon his skin, the gentle breeze that caresses his face, and the colours of nature that found him at his lowest times. Minghao thinks that's how he got into painting and art in the first place, though he didn't dwell on it too much. It all just came natural to him. He likes to think it that way𑁋that it found him instead.

The scenery of the campus is his oasis. He can do his own thing while others are walking through their own lives. He can sit outside for as long as he wants until dusk settles in and paints the sky with hues of orange and pink, or until the stars twinkle above and remind him that he's just an utter speck in the universe.

Today is no different.

Minghao finds himself sprawled out on the grass near the art building, sketchbook propped up against his bent knees, brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to capture the way the afternoon sunlight filters through the leaves of a nearby tree in his line of sight.

A low breeze runs through the air, stirring a few strands of hair across his forehead. He brushes them back absentmindedly, just as a sound cracks into the quietness.

"Hi!"

Minghao shoots his eyes up, slightly startled from the unexpected greeting. He catches sight of you slowly approaching up to him, a hesitant smile gracing your lips as you stop a few feet away.

"Hi," he replies, voice soft as he notices the way you're fiddling with something behind your back. "Vending machine did its ol' thing again?"

"Can you always read my mind?" You murmur, teasing annoyance biting at your words, but you can't contain the smile to your face either way. Maybe he can read your mind, but he's just skimming over it instead. "I can take it if you prefer to die from dehydration."

Minghao chuckles lightly. He glances down at the water bottle in your hand, then back at you, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. There's a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes, but also a hint of something𑁋maybe surprise, mischief, or perhaps a touch of shyness.

(You don't catch the way he subconsciously pushes the other water bottle he had stashed earlier deeper into his backpack.)

"Thanks." He accepts the water bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a second, and takes a quick sip to cool his slightly parched throat.

Then he sets the water bottle down beside him, patting the grass next to him invitingly.

Without a word, you take a deep breath and lower yourself down onto the grass next to him. You catch the scent of the fresh paint lingering on his clothes and blending with the earthy aroma of the grass beneath you. The sunlight catches on the side of his face, highlighting some strands of hair flying in the breeze and the silver earrings reflecting in his ears.

There's a small groan that leaves you when you get yourself to lay fully down on the grass, using your backpack as a makeshift pillow. Minghao just peers in your direction curiously, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you settle in.

"You know," You sigh, letting out a contented breath as you spread your arms out a little, fixing your eyes up towards the sky. "This is actually really nice, hanging outside and all, but I am so out of shape. You pick the worst spots."

Minghao's smile widens a fraction at your words. He shifts his own gaze to the sky, observing as the clouds drift lazily overhead, fingertips kneading at the laurel-coloured grass below. The soft yet vibrant green reminds him of a new set of paints he recently bought.

"I think you'll survive lying on a patch of grass, Y/N."

"Not if I get up and there's a goddamn earthworm crawling in my ear, Hao."

"Just don't fall asleep, and you'll live."

You let out a giggle, though you wouldn't be lying if you said that the warmth hitting your body was making you feel just the tiniest bit of drowsy. "No promises there."

The silence that lingers between you and Minghao isn't uncomfortable, but it's not exactly filled with chatter either. It's a comfortable silence, with the distant sounds of other students laughing like white noise and the occasional rustle of a breeze flying past your ears.

It's always like this when you're here together, a quiet that feels more familiar than the few months you've known him. Whether it's your little study sessions at the library, or when you hang out with him after hours in his painting class, it's familiar being around him. The thought settles around you like a well-worn blanket, a comfort you didn't know you craved until you found it here.

You glance over back at Minghao, who seems to be focused back on his sketchbook. He taps his pencil against his bottom lip in concentration. There's a small smudge of charcoal on his nose that you pinpoint, just hardly noticeable, but it makes you want to reach out and brush it away with your thumb.

The bold thought makes your stomach churn.

"Lay down with me, Hao."

The words leave you before you can stop them, surprising even yourself. A blush creeps up your neck, warming your cheeks as you continue watching Minghao. He's still focused on his sketchbook, but the tapping of his pencil against his lip has ceased. He looks down at you, eyes widening slightly in surprise before softening into a gentle smile.

"Lay down?" he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Y-Yeah," You stammer, suddenly wishing you'd phrased it differently. "I mean, if you want. The sky looks better from here, you know?"

Minghao just tilts his head to the side as if in contemplation, before closing his sketchbook and shifting his position. He tosses his backpack right next to yours, laying himself down on the grass and stretching his body in relief. The grass crinkles softly beneath him, his arm briefly brushing against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he settles in, peering up at the sky with you.

He's painted the sky many times, but for some reason, it feels different looking at it right now, and he isn't entirely sure why.

"What's the weirdest colour you've painted with?"

The sudden question makes Minghao sit up slightly, leaning on his elbow to face you better. The corners of his lips are pulled up in the hint of a smirk.

"Goose turd green."

His eyes detail the way your face contorts in slight disgust, before nothing but laughter tumbles out of you, and Minghao thinks he'd never get tired of hearing that sound.

iii. "hi." (vermilion is the colour that seeps through my cheeks when the alcohol beats me and i think about you.)

"Y/N𑁋jeez, how much did they drink tonight?"

"I don't even know𑁋woah, hey! Hold them steady, wait..."

"I'll take them back to their place," Minghao tells the other two boys struggling to keep you from falling over in their hold.

Mingyu and Seokmin stare at him for a second, exchanging a glance with each other before guiding you into Minghao's hold carefully. Minghao secures an arm around your waist, loosely at first, before tightening instantly because you're just about to fall out of his grip. He bids the other guys goodbye, then sets off with you towards your dorm.

"Are you alright?" he asks, even though he knows the answer already. "I told you before that you should know your limits."

You giggle, a wobbly, off-key sound. "Oh, I feel peachy, thank you so much."

Minghao just sighs, shaking his head slightly as he adjusts his hold on you, making sure you're steady on your feet.

The walk back to your dorm is painfully slow. Streetlights cast an orange glow on the sidewalk, painting long shadows that seem to dance alongside you. You lean heavily against Minghao, head hanging down to the ground, your footsteps unsteady. The world seems to tilt and sway with every giggle that escapes you.

Your vision is a bit blurry when your dorm comes into sight. Relief washes over you, and you lean even heavier into Minghao, practically melting into him by the time you reach your door and it swings open.

He steps you inside, moving you past the shoe rack by the entrance and towards your bed, and you flop down on the plush mattress with a low groan, nearly dragging down Minghao on top of you.

He catches himself just in time, a hand landing on the mattress beside you with a soft thud, and suddenly he's hovering above you, his breath catching with the sudden closeness of his body pressed up against yours. However, it just makes a laugh bubble out of your throat from deep within your chest, and with half-lidded eyes, you find yourself staring dazedly up at him.

"Wow, hiiii, you're like..." You drawl your words and tap aimlessly at his shoulder. "You're like... so pretty, you know? Have I told you that before?"

Heat creeps up Minghao's neck. He blinks down at you, eyes trailing over your face and cheeks which were stained a soft shade of vermilion from all the alcohol earlier. A small, surprised airy laugh escapes his lips.

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. And even after pulling away from you, you continue, voice thick with inebriation.

"And your smile? Oh, don't even get me started," You slur, a goofy grin plastered on your face. "Those big, cute eyes you have? They, like, make the whole world look... sparkly."

"Y/N, you need𑁋"

"And whenev... whenever you paint," You continue, voice trailing off away. The world seems to be spinning a little slower now, the grin to your face faltering for a moment, replaced by a furrowed brow as you try to focus on the thought. "Yeah, whenever you paint... you get this... this really focused look on your face. Like the world fades away and all that's left is the canvas. It's kind of... hot."

Minghao could simply only stare at you. He knows he should probably get you settled into bed and leave, but his feet seem rooted to the floor below. His gaze flickers up and down your face, then back up to your eyes, searching for any sign of what you just said being a joke. But all he sees is a genuine, albeit slightly hazy and inebriated, fondness.

"You think so?" he finally manages to ask.

"Yeah," You mumble knowingly as if instinctive, eyelids drooping closed a little further. "Makes you look, uh... determined. Like you could𑁋like you could paint the stars out of the sky or something."

Minghao cowers his head down for a second, before looking back up at you, crossing his arms together bemusedly. "Do you want me to paint the stars for you?"

You give a dreamy nod. In your cloudy mind, the idea sounds incredibly romantic, like something out of a dream.

"I think..." You start once again. "that would really make me like you even more."

Minghao feels his lips twitch, somewhat hopeful yet also reluctant, before letting out another sigh.

"You need to go to bed." He walks back over and helps pull the covers over you. "I'll leave you some water and meds to take in the morning, okay?"

A pang of disappointment shoots through you as he pulls away, a sleepy pout crossing over your features. You watch him with heavy eyelids, the room tilting ever so slightly with each passing beat of your heart.

"Wait," You murmur, grabbing weakly at his sleeve.

Minghao turns back around. You're looking at him, eyes a little more focused now, a hint of a playful smile on your lips, and shooting him a look that means business.

"Don't forget the stars, okay, mister?"

iv. "hi." (pewter is the colour of the clouds when the earth can't hold it in much longer, and the words burst all at once.)

It hits you on a random Wednesday near the end of the month during an exam on English Romanticism that you simply can't stand this anymore.

You're avoiding Minghao, purposely attending more study sessions that your classmates offer and taking up more shifts at the small café across from campus that you applied for a while ago to make some extra bucks. You know you're avoiding him, and he probably knows it too, and it's all your fault𑁋you're letting him get away and slip through the cracks between your fingers.

Minghao's art had been selected for a prestigious exhibition out of town, and he was set to leave at the end of the month for this internship just as summer is starting, and the thought of him being gone brings a hollow ache to your chest. It's becoming unbearable each passing day, each millisecond that passes knowing you've been so stupidly immature to push him away when he's quite literally been the best thing that has happened to you.

You may never understand how Xu Minghao𑁋this sophisticated, well-mannered, and endlessly talented artist𑁋had managed to wriggle his way into your heart so effortlessly, but there he was, occupying every crevice and corner with his gentle smiles and soft laughter that seem to flip the world over. He was just this sentient, living breathing form of peace that you can’t seem to let go of.

When another boom of thunder shatters outside, you think, screw this.

Screw avoiding him. This wasn't how this story was supposed to end.

You're quick to shove your belongings back in your bag the moment your class ends. The rain has calmed down a little when you step outside, which only seems to fuel the determination within you.

With a deep breath, you pull your jacket tighter against your body, and start to spring across campus. The rain might be getting heavier with each passing minute, but you don't care. All you care about is getting to Minghao before the storm within you bursts too.

Reaching his dorm building, you're merely a shivering mess, hair damp and plastered to your forehead and clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You barely have the breath to push open the heavy doors, collapsing against them for a moment to catch your breath.

But just as you're about to push open the door, a figure blocks your way, and you peer up to see Minghao standing in front of you. There's an umbrella clutched in his hand, and a puzzled look etches across his features when he takes sight of your disheveled appearance in front of him. You could only gaze at him.

"Hi," You say breathlessly, as if you've been holding on to the singular word for dear life.

Minghao just blinks a few times, unsure if he's looking at you as if you were crazy or if he's just imagining you.

"Hi," he finally responds, voice all gentle and slightly hesitant.

You glance down at the umbrella in his hand. "Are you going somewhere?"

Minghao opens his mouth to respond, also looking down at the umbrella in his hands as if magically appeared there out of thin air, then a bashful look crosses his face.

"I forgot some supplies back in class, so I thought I'd grab them before the storm gets any worse," he explains somewhat lamely, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But I𑁋Are you... are you okay?"

You give a loose nod, then shake your head dismissively right afterwards. Gosh, you're losing it.

Minghao clears his throat. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You're going to get sick𑁋"

"You know I-I like you, right?" The words stumble clumsily over your tongue, shattering whatever fragile tension was building up between you two. "And you probably knew that already, to be honest, because you always seem to know me better than I know myself. But the thought of you leaving just... scared me, and I panicked and pushed you away."

A lump forms in your throat. Minghao's expression is practically unreadable in front of you. There's a mix of surprise, a hint of something that could be hurt, and something else you can't exactly decipher.

You let out a dry chuckle, embarrassment crawling up your face but you try to ignore it as much as you can.

"I-I know I sound crazy right now," You say, forcing a smile that seems more like a grimace. "But I... I couldn't let you leave without knowing how I feel. So yeah. I like you. A lot. Maybe more than that. I don't know. It sort of scares me, honestly."

You wait a few moments, simply standing there in the falling rain while anticipating just anything from the boy standing in front of you as if the world had come to a pause. His silence stretches suffocatingly long, nothing but a cloud swirling in those beautiful eyes of his.

Then he looks down at the umbrella in his hand for a moment, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your soaked clothes and shivering form. And just before you can spiral into a wave of panic, Minghao steps forward close to you. Without a word, he unfurls the umbrella and holds it over your head, tilting it slightly to ensure you're fully covered from the rain.

"Let's get you out of this rain," he says finally, low and calm. "You're freezing."

"I..." You start, then stop, giving a muted nod. "Okay."

Minghao leads you back inside his dorm building and up to his room, the warmth seeping overwhelmingly into your bones. He ushers you into his space, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you.

You've been inside Minghao's room before, but it feels different now, more intimate somehow. The air hangs heavy as you awkwardly perch yourself on the edge of his bed, careful not to let the water dripping off you land on his sheets, and you watch as he quietly makes his way to his closet and disappears behind the hanging clothes. A moment later, he emerges with a soft, oversized hoodie and a towel in hand.

"Here." He holds out the towel and hoodie towards you. "Dry yourself off and change out of those clothes."

The softness of the towel against your skin is the equivalent to luxury as you meticulously pat down your hair and face. You shoot glances at Minghao across the room, seeing him busy himself at his desk, back turned to you, a low hum escaping his lips.

You slip on the oversized hoodie, the familiar scent of Minghao washing over you and instantly relaxing your jittery nerves. The sleeves hang past your fingertips, the material engulfing you in a comforting warmth.

"Feeling a little better?" Minghao asks, turning around to face you after a few minutes. You hardly notice the way his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on the way the hoodie basically swallows you.

A shy, self-conscious look crosses your features. "Yeah, um... Thanks."

Minghao returns the smile, though there's a hint of something else in his eyes𑁋perhaps relief or maybe even a touch of fondness. "Always."

That particular silence passes again as you both sit in his room, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the window. You fidget nervously with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Then, you let out a sigh. "Look, Hao𑁋"

"Do you want anything to drink?"

The offer zips your mouth back up, leaving your unfinished words hanging in the air. Is he... trying to brush away everything that has just happened in the last fifteen minutes? All just like that? You nearly want to scoff at the thought, but you bite at your bottom lip instead, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest.

"Honestly?" You lay your hands flat on your lap. "I'd kill for a hot chocolate right now."

Minghao just chuckles softly. "Okay," Then another long, considerable pause. "Are you working at the café later on?"

The thought of working right now makes you cringe internally. "No, thank goodness. My shift actually got swapped with someone else. Lucky break, I guess."

The corners of Minghao's mouth lift up subtly. He glances back out the window, seeing that the rain had become much lighter and cleared up significantly, revealing the sky in a palette of muted greys. His gaze returns to you, a thoughtful expression painting his features.

"Let's go then," he asserts firmly, rising up to his feet.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What? Right now? To the café?"

"Mhm."

"But you can't𑁋we can't just𑁋"

"It's a date," Minghao affirms, cutting your words off promptly. "My treat."

His words catch you off-guard, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. Your mouth hangs down to the ground, warmth crawling up the cheeks just like the hot chocolate you desperately crave right now. You can feel your heart pounding furiously out of your chest and whatever tension coiling in your stomach dissipating away.

"A... date?" You squeak out, voice coming out small and weak.

Minghao's lips purse together in a thin line. "Unless you have other plans𑁋"

"Oh no, no, no," You blurt out, finding yourself already breathless for no reason at all, struggling to keep the giddy grin forming on your face at bay. "A date sounds perfect, actually."

Relief floods over Minghao's features. He lets out a little giggle, the kind that always makes your insides do a little happy flip.

"Good," he responds simply. "I'm glad."

"Do I get to pay next time?" You ask teasingly as you stand up. "If there is a next time, at least."

Nothing but amusement dances in his eyes.

"We'll see about that."

v. "hi." (calamine is the colour staining your cheeks and your lips against my ear.)

Minghao's lips are on yours before you have the opportunity to breathe in the air of relief of the hotel room.

It's not hard for your body to melt into him instinctively, the kiss soft yet desperate, tender yet urgent. You find your fingers kneading at the silky material of the suit that he wore, and his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Both of your feet move in mere unison together before you feel the edge of the bed nudge the back of your knee.

When the two of you pull back for a minute to breathe, all you can do is faintly chuckle.

"You act like you haven't seen me in years," You tease, letting a hand come to toy with his tie. "Did you miss me that much?"

Minghao's gaze only flickers between your eyes, your lips, and down the outfit that seems to hug your body just perfectly, before settling back up to your face. His own face is close enough to yours that you swear you could pinpoint the flecks of stardust in his irises. He's simply staring at you with nothing but adoration, his gaze so intense like he's trying to memorise every little detail etched on your face, even if he's already done so many times. He's painted stars on your skin with his fingertips, lips, whispered words, and his heart.

And then he's kissing you again, more softly and slower this time, the weight of his body following your own as you fall back down on the bed behind.

Missing you is more than just an understatement. Being separated from you felt like this physical piece of him was missing from his chest. His art had been reaching the rightful hands of museums abroad just as he deserves, and you had gotten used to him travelling for days on end to attend exhibitions and workshops.

You jumped on the first opportunity to be able to visit him. And now, with you in his arms and your lips pressed against his, Minghao feels like he's finally whole again.

His mouth pulls away from the sweet spot to your neck, trailing a soft path back up to your lips, giving you a small kiss before pulling back to look at you. You hear the way his breath hitches in his throat, the feeling of his hand coming to interlock with yours at your side, the metal of the ring on his finger meeting your skin.

You peer up at him longingly, lovingly, a tiny smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"Hi," You whisper, a breathless laugh escaping you.

Minghao's gaze softens even further, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand as he leans back down.

"Hi, dearest," he murmurs back affectionately, adjusting himself so that his mouth is near your ear, barely grazing against the shell as he whispers, "You're beautiful."

You could only giggle as he retreats himself away slightly, but you tug him by the tie again to bring him back down. "Yeah? What else?"

There's a thoughtful look that crosses over his features, his cheeks painted an ethereal shade of calamine pink, mirroring the flush of warmth that spreads across your own face. You've always grown accustomed to Minghao's fairly quiet nature, however it doesn't take much to read over even the most imperceptible shifts in his expressions. Whenever words seem to be too shy or hesitant to come out, the stars in his eyes speak for him.

Minghao just lowers himself even more, the ghost of his lips hardly brushing back against yours.

"I love you."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights

605 notes · View notes

tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 8 months

Text

A few months before Danny gets his powers, while on a trip to Gotham with his family (maybe there was a ghost convention or something). While in Gotham Danny some how figures out that Bruce Wayne is Batman. I don’t know how he figures it out, but he does. When they get back to Amity Danny jokingly makes a power point presentation for his parents about why they should put in their will that if something ever happened to them Bruce Wayne would get custody of him (and Jazz if she’s still underage at the time).

A couple of his points are:

He’s a billionaire so you know he’ll be able to afford to take care of me and Jazz

He has a mansion so lots of space and big rooms

He’s got a butler

He’s already well known for adopting black haired blue eyed children so he probs wouldn’t be opposed to taking me in

He’s got kids of his own already so me and Jazz would get more siblings!!

He’s Batman

Danny did the whole power point as a joke but his parents actually took it kind of seriously. Cause up to this point neither one of them had thought about what would happen to Danny and Jazz if the both of them where to die. So they make a will and put in it that if they both die then Bruce Wayne gets custody of their kids. And then they all promptly forget about it.

Two years later Bruce Wayne gets a call from a man claiming to be the executor of the Fenton will and that Bruce’s presence is requested in Amity Park for the reading of the Fenton will. Bruce is wracking his brain trying to remember who the Fenton’s are and if how he knows them. But the man is coming up blank (cause he’s never actually met them before). He goes to the will reading and is shocked to hear that the Fenton’s, two people he’s never met before, have left custody of their 16yo son to him.

Danny is just as shocked because holy shit that power point was a joke. He didn’t mean for his parents to actually take it seriously and do that!!! And Vlad is pissed. He was sure he was gonna get custody of Danny after killing off the Fenton parents! Bruce is trying to figure out why these two strangers left their son to him. He’s watching Danny with eagle eyes trying to figure the kid out. And he sees the way Danny flinches whenever Vlad gets close or puts his hand on Danny’s shoulder.

Vlad tries to convince Bruce it would be better for Danny if Bruce gave up custody to him(Vlad). He’s know the boy for two years after all and he was actually a family friend. Danny meanwhile is silently shaking his head and giving Bruce pleading eyes silently begging him not to let Vlad take him. Bruce just tells Vlad that the Fenton’s must have had a good reason for giving him(Bruce) custody instead of giving it to Vlad, and he’s going to abide by the Fenton’s wishes.

Bruce leaves with Danny and once in the limo he asks Danny if he’s ever met him or his parents before. Poor Danny has to explain how he jokingly made a power point about why his parents should leave custody of him to Bruce in the event of their deaths, and how he never thought his parents would actually take it seriously. But hey at least he doesn’t have to go live with Vlad now!

#danny phantom #batman #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #ghost king phantom #it was supposed to be a joke #but the Fenton parents are weird #and extra #and they love their kids #so if their son wants Bruce Wayne to be their back up in the event of their demise #then who are they to say no #Bruce is super confused when he shows up for the will reading #who the hell are these people #the executor of the will didn’t know that the Fenton’s and Bruce didn’t know each other #he saw Bruce Wayne’s name and that he was being left custody of Danny #and he just assumed that the Fenton’s and the Wayne’s where friends #plus Wayne is always adopting orphaned kids with black hair and blue eyes #and Danny fits that perfectly #the man did not question this decision for a single second #vlad is beyond pissed #he killed the Fenton parents to get custody of Danny #and it was all for nothing cause those idiots didn’t leave him custody #he’s trying to figure out how the Fenton’s knew Bruce Wayne as well #Danny is just super embarrassed #it was a damn joke!#it wasn’t supposed to be taken seriously

1K notes · View notes

dreamauri · 2 months

Text

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part one max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( next )

One of the things Max Verstappen despises about being Max Verstappen is being Max Verstappen. Three time world champion, youngest race winner, mad max, f1 dominator, all the fame and media and people following him around. It's very hard to get a moment of peace or be treated normally. When people hear his name they either put on big smiles or ugly frowns. He hates the special treatment.

He misses when he could have a conversation without people recording or judging him. Without people whispering about him, or fake being his friend for whatever fame. When people would just spend time with him for the sake of spending time, or having a conversation for the sake of friendly socialization and conversation. Luckily though for the Dutch, in this day and age, Max could just enter a spare email in Discord and make a second lowkey account.

The pfp was a random photo of Max, a meme. Lowkey enough, Max decided after staring at the profile long enough before opening DiscoBoard. After scrolling and searching, he was dawned upon with a relatively small server with only 280 people online, surrounding sim racing. After he followed instructions on the welcome page like verifying he's not a robot and picking roles, he got his first ping.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max met you in August of 2022. The way you talked and messed around with him got him constantly checking his phone for notifications over the next months. The way you befriended him and were relaxed around him once the two of you got to know each other, it kept him sane. And although Max didn't really reveal a lot about himself except that his work required a lot of traveling and effort, you trusted him enough to share about your own life up in France, ranting about your weird encounters as an employee at Cisco.

The blonde’s favorite part about getting home was plopping in his gaming chair and switching his Discord accounts. Pulling his headphones on and navigating through the server, he joined the active voice chat. It was as if he was switching lives, turning off Max Verstappen to be an irrelevant 26 year old.

“A millioooon.” you sang like you always did, a nickname you’d given him since amilian sounded like a million.

“Laaaaa.” Max sang back with a chuckle before greeting the other acquaintances present on the call.

“How was your weekend?” You hummed.

“Same as always. Maybe a bit shittier this time.” He sighed, seeing you were on Gran Turismo from your shared screen.

“I’d love to beat up someone for you.” You always offer when he’s down. The blonde would laugh and shake his head even though you can’t see. You never cease to bring him a smile with your tone and jokes and hearty aura, despite being kilometers up north. "We're waiting for Josh to take a few rounds around spa, you wanna join?"

"Oh, yes please." friendly racing with no consequences, points or championship? just friends messing around and enjoying themselves? Yes please.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You see the new verstappen photos that just dropped, Mr. Max Verstappen nerd?" Max looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at your dm chat where the two of you decided to move the call once everyone else put down the steering wheel for the night.

"This one is from Bahrain I think . . . you know, I'm starting to take a liking to him." Max rolled his eyes playfully at your words. "To be honest, I was kind of disappointed this weekend." Max rubbed his eyes, looking up at your profile picture.

"Why what happened?" He asked even though he probably knew all too well the events of the Australian grand prix.

"Max DNFed on the third or fifth lap." You sighed.

"Oh yeah?" Max hummed, pursing his lips, not wanting to recall the memories. "What's so bad about that? I thought you were a die hard Charles fan?" he asked.

"Excuse you, I'm a die hard Fernando fan." You joked in a sassy tone which pulled a chuckle from him.

"What is it about Max DNFing that is bothering you then?" Max himself asked, putting his phone down to concentrate on your voice.

"I just don't—" you sighed deeply. On your end of the call you rolled back in your chair, getting up and flopping on your bed with your phone in hand.

When you did answer his question, all Max heard was mumbles because your voice was muffled by your pillow. "Can't hear you, La. Aren't you happy about the Carlando podium? You were so happy about it last year."

"I am happy, I am. But Max . . . well Max . . . i don't know." you grumbled frustrated. "He's such a good driver, and deserves a lot— he works really really hard."

Max never thought he'd hear you talking about him like that. He'd usually hear other people on the server dissing him and cursing him. And although you were always mostly neutral with the drivers, the way you spoke about Max tonight melted his heart. It also felt very wrong.

While you turned and laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling of your room, venting your feelings about a driver who you thought didn't know you existed, said driver folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms listening to you vent about how much you were amazed and proud even though you don't know him personally or him not being your favorite driver.

Max glanced up at his monitor as you sighed to gather your thoughts. "Sometimes when i look at him, he reminds me of myself. I never really got to go past karting, but for some reason I see a little bit of y/n in him."

"—Y/n?" He sat up hearing the name.

"I—" You face palmed upon the realization.

"Is that your name?" Max asked. You nodded briefly with a sigh but he couldn't see.

"Unfortunately." You sighed. "Weird name, I know—"

"I like it." He reassured. "It's not like Amilian is any better." he tried to lighten the mood, working slightly.

"A million." you giggled making him chuckle back.

"A million, " he repeated quieter, a small smile on his face as he leaned his chin back down on his arm.

Such a foolish thing to do, taking a liking to a woman you've never met.

Voice notes . . . ( my brain is like a zoo rn, starting projects and not being able to track anything while working on everything at the same time )Word count - ( 1, 165 ) credits for proof reading -> @classiclitfreak (check out their blog!!)

469 notes · View notes

thoughtsforsoob · 2 months

Text

delinquent bf!jake x f!reader

you two met when you were on the train, commuting to your morning lecture!

he was just standing there and minding his own business when he saw you trying to push away a much larger guy than you who kept trying to talk to you and touch you

he knew you couldn't get him away yourself so he took it upon himself to punch the guy and tell him to get lost and quit bothering you

the whole situation sent you into a panic attack and once jake was sure the guy was gone, he went over to you and assist you

he was so kind to you and even let you hug him tightly to ground youself

why was this handsome stranger being so kind to you?

your stop was nearing and you have finally calmed all the way down. you ask him how you could repay him and he only asks for you to go on a date with him

of coruse you accept and the rest is pretty much history

On that first date he took you out for dinner and for a walk around the river in your town.

He surprises you with flowers and he pays for everything! You insist on paying for something but he simply did not allow it. He would never let you pay for anything in your relationship

Jake was very much the “i want to provide for you” type of guy but he never put up a fight when you insisted that you were going to work too to support yourself because he loved your strength and independence

The delinquent side of his life is not something you know much about because he likes to keep it away from you

He doesn't want you to think differently of him if you were to find out how he beats the shit out of people for money and how he also sells drugs

If it weren't for this insistence that follows…you would've never found out about his ‘job’

You were leaving your job at the bookstore one evening and it was already dark

You didn't usually walk alone in the dark, jake always accompanies you or a friend but today, you had neither of those options as you were closing alone and jake was working

He offered to have a friend walk you home but you didn't know his friend much so you insisted that it would be okay

Jake did not take that for an answer at face value so he sent off one of his friends, niki, to keep and eye on you and follow you home from a distance to make sure you got there safe

Niki was following you from said distance when he noticed 3 men started to trail behind you and when he recognized who they are, he sent jake a text about coming immediately and ran up

One of the guys pulled you back by your hoodie and you gasped for breath. You were sure you’d die and that the last words you'd hear would be “your boyfriend beat the crap out of our boss. Left him in the hospital. Now you need to answer for his crime.”

Surely your boyfriend did not do that…he was the sweetest man you'd ever known. Hell, in the first month of your relationship, he would ask for permission to hug and kiss you! Now why would he ever put his hands on anyone else, especially in that way?

Niki socks one guy in the face, effectively knocking him to the ground which resulted in him letting go of you

Now the only things you could ask yourself were 1, why did this man say that about my boyfriend and 2, why are men always coming to save me?

You recognized niki’s face from the 2 times you'd seen him in the past. You’d told Jake to bring his friends to your apartment and you cooked them dinner. They were all friendly and sweet but you still didnt know them well or too personally.

Anyways, niki starts to beat this shit out of these guys and you’re scratching your head at how tf he's doing this all by himself.

Jake swoops in and when they see him, they scoff as if they weren't beaten to a pulp and ran off

You go to hug Jake just like that first time you both met and looked up at him with your big, watery eyes, “They said you hurt their boss? What is that supposed to mean bub?”

Jake let out a long sigh and looked down at you with his pretty eyes, “we can talk about this a bit okay?” you just nod and kiss him

You thank niki profusely and he was left red in the face, “it’s no big deal. You're Jake's girl so always expect to have us defend you as well. We care about you.” Best believe you’re red in the face too because this sweet guy just said that

You assure him that he's welcome at your apartment anytime and to call you if he ever needs anything. He agreed, letting you and jake leave to your apartment

You sit Jake down on the couch and notice, finally, his ripped t-shirt, scratched face and bloodied knuckles.

He explains everything to you and your heart breaks when you think of him getting hurt the way he does

Why would he hide this from you? This is a big deal and he didn't feel comfortable enough to tell you this?

Of course you question him and his choice to not tell and you and he gets a little upset at you for questioning him

He storms off from your apartment and you’re left there, crying and wishing he would come back

You don;t hear from him until 2 days later when he shows up at your doorstep, bloodied and bruised all over. He no longer had on shoes nor a shirt and his face was cut and bruised, his chest and arms covered in bruises and wounds as well.

Wordlessly, you usher him inside and start attending to his wounds

He starts to cry and you notice when you’re patching up his knee and feel a droplet of water on your hand

He lets out a hiss from the sting of the salty tear touching the wound on his knee.

You stop what you're doing and cup his handsome face, kissing his lip even if it was a tiny bit bloody

“I'm not mad at you, jake. Please don't think I am. I just feel sad that you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me about this. I just worry about you. What's going to happen when you’re not around hmm?” You give him a soft expression

He looks at you with his red, teary eyes. He looked so lost and upset. You felt your heart rip into a million pieces. You've never seen him so low.

“I didn't want you to think differently of me if I told you what I did for a living. I know it's not right and i didnt want to involve you and get you into trouble. Too late for that. For fucks sake, that guy was going to kill you just because youre my girlfriend!” Jake only cries more and you hold him close.

After patching him up and having him wash up, you bring him to your bed and hold him close to you.

Sure, he was bigger than you but he loved being held flush to your chest.

You whisper to him as he drifts off to sleep, “I love you no matter what. Even if you’re a little delinquent. You’re my little delinquent.”

Over time, you continue to go to school and you finally graduate! You best believe jake went all out and got you the best gift ever…an apartment overlooking the city…just like you always wanted

When you start working, he slowly starts to detach himself from the business he was into and started to look for a new job, which was not easy given his past

He found a cafe that was willing to hire him and give him a second chance and he was happy to work there!

You start working at a high school so you have early mornings

Jake helps you by making your lunches everyday and packing you little snacks also

He packs in little notes too with i love yous and words of encouragement thrown in there are well

He never thought he'd settle down like this but he finds himself loving this life style

Once he's able to sever all ties to his past life (except for his ties with the boys because those are his best friends) he asks you to marry him

The both of you plan a small wedding with just close family and friends

He buys you a pretty dress and lets you pick a theme and decorations and everything

He wants this day to be memorable for you because he thinks you deserve the whole world

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake x reader #Jake fluff #jake imagines

639 notes · View notes

jeongharine · 3 days

Text

syntax ERROR: the right formula

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, smut

⚝ notes: you and wonwoo decide to take the thing between you on level two. but no one has to know about it. you would rather die than to have someone figure out about your sexual escapades with the local nerdy fuckboy. it is an ego thing. (part i)

(thanks to everyone who read and liked part one, i’ve never received such an amount of likes for something that i posted <3 i hope you will like this part as well, it is a bit longer but i had a little fun in writing some teasing ooof enjoy it, have a good early summer period and stay safe x)

“can you actually believe that, y/n? he ghosted me for i don’t know three weeks, and then he had the nerve to ask for a tit pic,” nabi sighs, taking a sip from her blue-ish drink.

“you know what? i’m so done with men. all of them. we really ar- are you even listening to me?”

you are caught off guard by the clicking of her fingers in front of your eyes. truth is, you are only half present, the other half of you is scanning the whole floor, trying to see if there’s a certain someone amongst the agglomeration of bodies.

“yeah, sure, sorry,” you apologize, leaning your side against the wall. “i was somewhere else for a second. you were saying that he ghosted you?”

“i’m never talking to him again. or any man.” “hm,” you hum, crossing your arms. you actaully don’t know who she is trying to convince at this point, because that must’ve been the fifth time you heard your friend giving you that speech (during that semester alone).

“really, i don’t know why those guys haven’t been thrown out of the campus yet. they’re a hazard, including your brother from what i’ve heard. sorry. but yeah, they’re a threat to public health,”

you shrug, because honestly you don’t care that much about their business. and that is important to keep it low.

“could be worse, though, i could be one of the poor girls getting fucked by one of them in their spare time,”

oh.

you giggle, a little nervous. “yeah, yeah,” you agree, looking back at the mass of students. “yeah, that’d be totally awful.”

“i couldn’t even count on my fingers the amount of girls that had one night stands with one of them, and somehow proceeded in becoming completely whipped and infatuated, only to be told that they don’t ‘fuck the same person twice’. like… what the fuck is that? who do they think they are? sorry that your brother is involved in this discourse, but he’s kind of a prick,”

you laugh, noticing the tinge of red that covers her cheeks. “you sound really drunk,”

“i’m not bullshitting you. they’re pricks and that’s on period,”

she raises her cup in a silent cheer, and took another sip. “i know you’re not involved in the fuckboy thing that plagues this campus and, honestly, you’re better off that way. but trust me when i say that they aren’t worth the headache,”

with an inattentive nod, you take another peek at the strangers filling the space near you. “i believe you, don’t worry. i know my thing or two,”

the worst part? you do.

and the even worse bit? there are two things wrong with what she has just told you.

number one: yes, they could be kind of jerks sometimes. but they aren’t completely soulless, at least some of them. they are fun to be around, actually, when picked alone and not in group, or when they are not trying to impress someone into sleeping with them.

number two: they fuck the same person twice, if feeling like it. at least wonwoo. and you know that because you’ve been fucking him on and off for the past five months or so.

when you first met him, you weren’t exactly after a “secret friends with benefits” relationship. you just needed a math tutor. but long story short, you didn’t expect to fall victim to his charms, melting under his tender kisses, moaning his name as he rolled his hips against you, edging your orgasm for longer than you can hold it. and you surely didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

truth is: jeon wonwoo is everything, but he isn’t dumb. he knows that he is attractive and smart as hell - he knows that with his voice so silky and deep just saying the right words is enough to have you in bed with him, and he knows how to use the two things very well.

apart from also corrupting you in games hours.

also, you are human, alright? and there is something extremely tempting about sleeping with your brother best friend, especially when he keeps coming back to you. it’s only nature to want to feel special every once in a while.

again: it is an ego thing.

plus no one ever caught you. not nabi or any of your other friends. as far as you are aware, wonwoo’s group doesn’t know a thing either, which makes you appreciate him even more because you don’t know how hoshi could take this.

so yeah, he isn’t a total douchebag. he has the most basic sense of loyalty.

with a sigh, you push your body away from the wall, fumbling with your purse. you are praying that- oh there he fucking is.

the moment that you see wonwoo, sitting on the couch across from you, you forget how to breathe for a moment.

he looks better than you had anticipated: dressed in all black, with his thighs spread across the seat, ready to be fucked right then and there. his dark long hair is parted in the middle, with a few stubborn strands falling over his angelic features, as his gaze navigates around the room, staring at nothing in particular.

next to him, there is another one of his friends, seokmin, talking about something animatedly but wonwoo is paying no attention.

his expression is one of irritation, you notice, with his thick eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenching. but when his gaze falls on you, however, wonwoo’s perceived annoyance instantly dissipates.

you watch as his eyes meet your own, then he trails down your body with desire, stopping around the level of your thighs for a bit longer than you have predicted.

you know that stare awfully well: it is the same one that he gives you when he sees you around campus, or in the pc-bang when you’re winning or when you actually understand the concepts that he’s teaching you. the silent provocation that tells you, and only you, that he really wants to have some alone time right now.

a tricky smirk sprouts at the corner of his lips, and he leans back against the couch. you follow his movements as he reaches towards his pocket and extracts his phone, staring at you as he does so. he unlocks it, taking a final glance at your expectant features before he starts to type something.

[00:23] wonu: so glad to see that you came

[00:23] wonu: will you do me a favour and meet me in the bathroom upstairs? second door to the right ;)

and what can you do when he’s asking it like this? you take the stairs and you wonder, as you open your way through the crowd of sweaty bodies and spilling drinks, if you aren’t trying too hard to rationalize and catastrophize something that is actually very simple.

a story with a beginning, a middle part, and a satisfying ending: you two want to fuck each other, you do, then you move right forward. no hidden feelings, no strings attached. that’s it. couldn’t get any better than that.

but maybe, it isn’t everything about that, and you know it. it is also about overhearing the other girls talking as you make your way upstairs, complaining about how ridiculously hot and pretty he is. it is about having that steamy, trembling secret between the two of you. it is about knowing that yeah, wonwoo is crazy hot and smart and funny and you can have that whenever you want.

just like the calm before the storm, there is a moment of quietness and stillness between the instant of when you lock the door, and the one when you see him.

as you turn around, dwelling in his proximity, you think about a million things at the same time: about teasing him for his location choice, or maybe about how he must’ve been going through a drought, if he has to count on his covert booty call to get laid at a party.

before you can say anything, wonwoo’s lips are on yours, attacking your mouth in a fervorous kiss. you whimper in surprise as he pushes you against the closed bathroom door, his hands circling your waist as he squeezes your body against his. your purse falls on the ground with a muffled sound, but you barely even notice it.

it is something else, really. tonight, he’s kissing you as if he physically can’t contain himself long enough to do anything else - as if all that he can think of doing is to feel the heavenly contact of your mouth against his, while your fingers pull strands of his hair.

as he invites his tongue inside your mouth, wonwoo groanes and lowers his hands, squeezing your ass like he is about to lose every last ounce of sanity he has left in him. you sigh as he moves his focus onto your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses.

“someone’s excited,” you comment, slightly breathless. the only response you get is another groan, and the rolling of his hips against your inner thigh where you can feel his dick, already semi-hard, pressing.

“couldn’t even bother to take me somewhere else,”

“i just needed to have you now. have you seen how hot you are?” his voice comes out muffled against your skin, the reverberations of his timbre propagating directly towards your core.

“i see you’re starting to get more adventurous with this,” you bite down on your lower lip and he sucks your flesh, groping your ass once again. “parties and nights out used to be so off limits to you.”

wonwoo chuckles against your neck, moving back towards your mouth. he starts making out with you again, his breath hot and heavy against your face, and you start to think how you could very well pass out seen the level of craving building inside of you.

“i changed my mind.” he speaks as he leans back.

you smirk at his attitude. “we’ll end up getting caught,”

“aw, baby,” he pouts, looking at you with artificial pity. “are you afraid your brother is going to find out?”

okay, he can be kind of a prick sometimes.

“so i can leave, then?” you raise one eyebrow, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“you can, the door is right behind you. you know i’m not one to insist,” wonwoo tells you, quickly losing interest in this part of the conversation. “but something tells me you won’t.”

you don’t even try to respond, because there is nothing to be said: both of you know what you are doing there, and the idea of walking out is just too ridiculous to consider.

with a suspire, you watch as wonwoo moves his lips down your chest, stopping at the fabric of your blouse.

“what if someone hears us?” you suddenly remember, heartbeat quickening at the thought.

“what is it?” he asks as his fingers work on your buttons, exposing more of your chest. the slow pace of his is going to kill you one of these days.

“you’re worried that people are going to find out about this? about us? when you’re always begging to be fucked in the room next to your brother’s one or when there’s someone at my dorm?”

you open your mouth to respond but his chuckle, so deep and melodious, catches you off guard.

“how scandalous, right? you are not the pure little thing you make yourself to be,” wonwoo continues, finally opening your blouse and fully exposing your bra to him. he hums with delight. “red lace? you really want to tease me,”

you swallow dry as he takes the blouse off your shoulders and gently places it beside the sink, above a towel. he can be so thoughtful and gentle.

“wonu, i-“ “you’re such a little brat sometimes, you know that?” he interrupts, eyes following his own movements as his hands circle your body, moving to unclasp your bra. and of course he gets it right on the first try.

“you came all the way up here just to get fucked, and now you’re worried that people are going to know about it,” you stare him down, a smirk already creeping up in the corner of your lips.

“how does that make me a brat?”

he smiles. “don’t try to to play the naive card on me,” another agile movement of his fingers and your bra joins your blouse besides the sink.

wonwoo sighs deeply at your exposed breasts, trying to imprint that sight into the back of his mind. “pretending as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. you can drop the act now, y/n,” “i don’t-“ his mouth attacking you is all that you needed to shut up and let him do what he wants really.

overwhelmed by the sensation, you let out a gasp as his hand squeezes you, playing with you as he moans against your skin.

“i love it so much,” he hums, moaning at the marvelous sensation of your warm skin against his tongue. you were almost forgetting how much wonwoo aches to play with your tits - not that you are complaining.

“and i love that it’s all for me,” he breathes out before placing kisses again.

you whimper at the contact, arching your back in a failed attempt to get closer to him. as much as you know he is most likely to just say whatever he thinks would turn you on, wonwoo’s words expand inside your chest, building a heat that seems to suffocate you. even if you know it is bullshit, maybe not all of it, you like to be called his. ego strokes and all of that.

“wonu…” there is only a thin wooden door separating you two from the outside world, and at the moment you can’t care less if they hear you calling out his name. the guy really does wonders to your anxiety.

but he also likes to tease you.

he moves away from your breasts and you almost, almost, cry out in frustration. but wonwoo starts to trace kisses back to your neck, then to your jawline. and you feel like you’re going crazy with all that back and forth.

“i’m not gonna lie, i understand where you’re coming from,” he says. “i like to keep this as a secret too. it’s so hot.”

you almost forget how to inhale when he aligns his face with yours, placing a peck on your swollen lips. “yeah?” you ask, sounding as if you are in a daydream.

“yeah,” he agrees, breathless.

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he

“it’s so great to know that i have one of the sexiest nerdy girls on campus just for myself…” his hand trails up your thighs, adventuring in the lands beneath your skirt. “and no one knows.”

you bite your lower lip, anticipating the contact of his hand against your core. “what’s so tempting about it?” you ask.

he smiles. “ah… many things,”

your stare doesn’t vacillate. “i’d like an example,”

instead of answering you straight away, wonwoo decides to take his sweet time. he leans his head to the side and kisses you feverishly, growing satisfied with the the small whimpers and breaths that echoes in between your mouths. his hands are all over you: on your ass, your waist, down your thighs and up your hips, where his eyes can not see. you only have your skirt and your panties on, and it is so frustrating to still feel him fully dressed against you.

at last, he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours. as he speaks, you feel the tingle of his hands as they move towards the hem of your panties.

“i like seeing you walk around campus, knowing that you’re sore from the night before,” he speaks slowly, his voice in a low vibration against your mouth. “and i know you don’t tell any of your friends about it. about how i fucked you so good that you almost cried,”

you hum, closing your eyes. “what else?”

much to your dismay, his hands leave your underwear again, coming out to pull you closer. “when you send me those audios late at night,” he’s breathing out hard then, drowning in those lewd memories. “crying out my name… ” he stops and takes a big breath. “how am i supposed to say no to that? so there i go, out the door, telling your brother that i’m going to the library to study, instead of saying that i’m going to see his crazy hot sister and that i’m going to fuck her…” he hesitates. “and i just get this… adrenaline rush because he and my other friends don’t know it’s you.”

“and how do you know that i like any of it?” you tease.

wonwoo snickers at your question. both of you know that it is plastered all over your face, but he can keep up with that little teasing if you want to.

“two reasons,” he says. “first: you do the same to me, or don’t you?”

“i don’t recall,” you respond, forging innocence. okay, maybe you do like to play the naive part.

“oh no? what a terrible memory you have, i see why you do badly in exams when you don’t study with me. now, let me remind you,” he places a strand of your hair behind your ear, his words hitting your skin in heated, libidinous waves. wonwoo is so close that you can count his eyelashes if you want to, his torso squeezed so tight against yours that you wonder how you even manage to breathe in this position.

“it was just last week, babe. you called me to your flat after your roommate had left,” one of his hands goes back to play with the hem of your underwear, fingertips feeling like sparks against your skin.

“you got so horny with just the thought of having me, isn’t that right?” much to your surprise, your voice comes out a lot more steady than you have expected. “don’t flatter yourself, you don’t know that.”

wonwoo laughs, placing his warm, swollen lips against the skin of your neck. “i don’t,” he agrees, digits pressing against your clothed area.

you know he feels how wet your panties have become, so there’s no reason to keep that up. regardless, you kind of like it.

“but i do remember how much you wanted me that night. how many times did i fuck you that night? and you just had to keep quiet, because your neighbours could have been catching something. that was so cute,”

you sigh, your insides in knots over the tension you are sustaining. you hate him sometimes. hate how good he is. “i wasn’t counting.”

“i know,” he swiftly pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side.

“and this right here, this is the second reason. look at this,” his digits move, teasing you and you have to suppress a moan. “you’re always ready. i love that. you’re so good to me.”

god, you are so close to lose it.

“so quiet all of a sudden,” his nose delicately trails up your neck, his mouth meeting the angle of your jaw in open kisses. in an attempt to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging through his t-shirt. you can still feel wonwoo’s fingers playing. you hate him. or not. you don’t know.

“i know i leave you speechless, sometimes, but i wan to hear you too,”

strong and steady, his other hand meets the curvature of your waist, pressing your body against his.

“nothing? y/n, you’re especially irresistible tonight,” his eyes are somewhat dazed, unfocused and hooded. he appears as if he’s two seconds away from fucking you raw against the wall, and you seriously wouldn’t mind at this point.

“you know why i called you here?” “because you want to fuck me,” you respond without missing a beat.

“i do, of course,” he places his forehead against yours, and you whimper.

“and the best part is that no one will even know it,” he continues. against your best judgement, your knees are getting weaker by the minute, the knot in your abdomen about to untie.

“just you and i. just the two of us will know how much you begged.”

“wonu,” you call out, hands tangling themselves in the roots of his silky hair. you whisper out his name again, your voice coming out in such a promiscuous tone.

god, wonwoo loves hearing the effect he has on you.

maybe jeon wonwoo does also have a golden dick.

above you, he smirks at the sensation of your mouth around his thumb, his other hand coming to place small caresses on your hair. after he removes his thumb from your mouth, you get back to your feet. it swiftly crosses your mind that your legs might give out eventually but, thankfully, they seem a bit more firm than what you have anticipated.

“better?” you ask.

“perfect.” wonwoo kisses you, sighing against your mouth. he pulls away gradually, his body still moving a bit slow.

“you always are.”

“aw, how nice of you,” you smile at his compliment, walking towards your pile of clothes. “always with the compliments.”

he hums in agreement, watching your naked body - your fingers holding that red bra he adores so much. “do we have any lesson programmed this week?”

an incredulous laugh ruptures your lips as you clasp your bra behind your back.

“we just had sex, and you’re already thinking about studying time?”

he shruggs. “i like to have a schedule,”

“i don’t actually remember, but we can game at mine wednesday,” your skirt moves up your legs, all the way up to your waistline. from the corner of your eyes, you can see wonwoo fumbling with his own jeans, which he now curses for being inside out.

“can you pass me some toilet paper?” you ask him, eager to clean the mess between your legs. there’s no way you are going to put your panties back on, even if the thought of going commando isn’t exactly the most welcoming either.

wonwoo is sitting on the toilet lid, putting his jeans back, and simply nods in agreement before doing so. “i’d like to know, though,” he insists.

you smile, taking a cheeky glance at him. “oh, so you are needy. since when you’re so needy?”

he groans. “i’m not needy, shut up.” the sound of his zipper closing echoes inside the cubicle.

“well, you can have this as a memory, if you’d like.”

you throw your red panties at him, watching as his face grows interested at the piece of cloth in his hands. wonwoo sighs, tugging his t-shirt back inside his pants.

“you’re killing me,” he complains. “good.” you smile, turning back at him. “how do i look? presentable?”

he examins you for an instant, taking in the details of your form. “it doesn’t look like you just got fucked, if that’s what you’re asking,”

“great!” you swirl around, “have a nice night, wonu. and don’t get too excited with the panties,”

wonwoo gets up and walks closer to you, your underwear safely guarded in his hands. you are positive he’s going to have fun with it later. “you’re going home already?” he asks.

“yeah, you did a good job at making me tired,” the clicking of the lock is a pleasant reminder that no one tried to open the door during your alone time.

wonwoo chuckles, leaning closer to you and he places a kiss on your forehead.

“good night, then. thanks for the panties,” you laugh. “you’re welcome.”

the building is glowing in the most diverse colours from the outside, and the sound of the music is like a distant pulse.

you watch, heart clenching inside of your chest, as wonwoo steps out of the front door with hoshi and seokmin - his head hanging low and a smile at the corner of his lips.

there is a volume in his front pocket, where you are sure he has tugged in your panties.

“i think that we should go home and sleep. but let’s keep this conversation on hold,” wonwoo cuts off the conversation. seokim, however, isn’t satisfied.

“you know that i’ll find out eventually,” he says, trying not to trip while walking.

“i always do. and hoshi knows it well.”

hoshi laughs, meeting wonwoo’s eyes. on the other side of the street, you and nabi take the opposite direction, having wonwoo to turn his head quickly at you.

“wonu-yah, i think you should give those lacy panties hanging off your pocket back to my sister tomorrow,”

“what-” “oh fuck!” a tomato red face wonwoo grabs them, while seokim trips and nearly cries out loud in the middle of the street.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo smut #seventeen fic #wonwoo fic #svt fic #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

332 notes · View notes

transgaysex · 2 years

Text

i feel like how i feel just is both justified and unjustified

#wind howls #death #<- for the next few tags. dont look if mentions are bad to yoy and im not going into details anyway but jic #its just so dumb. am i supposed to mourn someone i met for the first and last time 2 weeks ago ? how am i supposed to ?#how am i supposed to deal with being conscious of the fact that i was one of the last people to see someone alive ?#how am i supposed to cope with being at the very end of someones existence ! how do i deal with knowing i talked with tomorrows corpse !#nd fucking literally ! you meet a guy one evening after work going to a bistro bar with coworkers nd the next day the dudes fucking dead !#dies the very next morning ! but you dont learn about it until two weeks later when the funeral is already done and over with !#i didnt know the guy beforehand ! i knew his name and what he worked in becayse thats the kind of small talk you do with strangers !#i didnt know he only had hours left ! i didnt know his time was counted ! and worst of all he didnt either !!!#i cant be mad at him because its not his fault but im mad because i just have to deal with that ! being 1 of the very last to see him live #and it just feels so wrong. it feels like my coworker was pulling my leg when she told me the news. i genuinely thought she was.#but why would she tell me that ? i know it wouldve been wrong either way because like i did talk to him. but she knew him for longer #and i didnt ! im already haunted by death enough as it is ! im sick of it ! im sick of thinking about it !#and then my other fucking coworker gives me a speech about how fragile life is nd how anybody could die any second as if i dont know that !#as if that very thought doesnt plague my existence with every single second i dont have a loved one within my line of sight !#and if thats not something my parents repeat to me nearly every day of my fucking existence to make me feel guilty for being me !!!!#as if*#that im fucking mad about ! i trusted her even the slightest bit with my genuine feelings on the situation and she fucking lectured me ????#im so glad she doesnt work tomorrow or friday because i cant fucking stand to see her right now im pissed and im sad n upset and lonely #and i feel sick. i feel sick.#ill try to delete this tomorrow. i dont feel good.

0 notes

arminsumi · 9 months

Text

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…�� you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

1K notes · View notes

2hightocare · 3 months

Text

LOVE WAGER! 01

Synopsis: Meeting a crazy stranger who cuts in line, tries to tell you love like the books doesn’t exist—it’s whatever. You won’t ever see him again… right?

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. forced proximity.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, Jungkook lowkey being insufferable, banter, cussing, a little bit of them being enemies, nicknames, oc being a hopeless romantic at heart, Jungkook being lowkey a cynic… them meeting each other so many times, choking!

a/n: first chapter out!! Woohoo, I’ve been keeping them close to my heart for quite some time. Ever since I listened to “in between” by Gracie Abrams.. I was inspired to write them—the song is so them coded.💌

★ masterlist!

3 years ago…

You were a hopeless romantic.

Most people called it being delusional— by people, you mean the random stranger in front of you.

The first time you met Jungkook, not only did he cut in front of you in line, but he also started shit-talking about how delusional you had to be to think romance books were even remotely comparable to real life.

The line at the cupcake shop was long. You had been wanting to try the new chocolate-covered strawberry flavor from your favorite cupcake shop in the city. The shop was always full, but today it was packed to the bone— the line almost reached outside the door. The people sitting at the cute pastel-colored tables were even leaving because the space was getting so crowded.

It was a Friday, and you had just left school. Your black backpack hung loosely over one shoulder as you stared down at your phone, trying not to die playing Subway Surfers. When your phone died, you internally groaned.

You mentally rolled your eyes before looking forward, where the line was starting to move faster. You were probably the fourth person in line, which was good since you'd only been there for around twenty minutes. You slipped your phone into the back pocket of your jeans before reaching for the zipper of your backpack—pulling out the latest book you hadn’t finished reading amidst all the assignments teachers had been bombarding you with. You thought it was dumb, considering it was your senior year in high school—why not just let you off easy?

You zipped up your backpack before slipping it on, tucking in the small hair that fell into your face when you opened your book. You moved forward as the line advanced, not bothered by the conversations from everyone around you—it was like your own brown noise, which you usually looked up on YouTube whenever you wanted to act like the main character in a movie.

Romance books were your thing. The same went for movies; you loved a good romantic story with the most cliché plot in the world—it did it for you every single time.

Your dad had tried getting you into self-help books, fiction books, or even those thriller books where you had to guess who kills who. He would back this up with actually learning something from reading a book, and you tried all those genres, you really did. You were the most specific girl there could be; if the book didn't impress you within one chapter, you closed it and moved on.

You were basically in love with the idea of love, imagining someone doing all those things you had seen in movies and read about, which filled you with hope that someone could care and love you that way. Yes, you believed in soulmates; you believed that someone, somewhere in this world, was destined to be with you, no matter the circumstances. You believed that if two people were destined for each other, they would find a way to each other, one way or another.

“Hi, baby, you still haven’t ordered? The line is so fucking long.” A strange boy, who looked around your age or maybe slightly older due to his eyebrow piercing, spoke up. He had a navy blue cap with the Yankees logo on the front, and you could see small pieces of his hair. It looked like a dark brown, but at some angles, it looked black, so you thought maybe he dyed it. He was cute, with a sharp jaw and dimples, which you immediately noticed when they showed on his left cheek as he bit his lip, waiting for you to reply.

“I’m sorry—“ you started, only to be cut off by him. “I've been meaning to show you this, babe.” He cut you off before basically shoving his phone into your face. His phone showed his notes app open with a text that read, ‘Please act like you know me so I can cut in line; it’s so long, and I have somewhere to be.’

Your brows furrowed at the pleading guy. You had no clue what his name was, but he looked like he was seriously about to lose his mind if he had to wait another minute in line. You shook your head before nodding— a smile burst on his face.

“Thank you,” he mouthed to you, to which you only shrugged before closing your book. “What flavor are you getting, lovebug?” He said, his nose scrunching in disgust at what he just said. A small laugh escaped your lips since that was the cringiest shit you had heard all day, maybe even all week if you didn’t count your dad trying to write you a poem about his love for your cat.

“I want to get the new chocolate-covered strawberry flavor. What about you?” You said, your fingers fidgeting with the pages of your closed book. His eyes dropped to your hands as you moved up in line, now second in line.

“Is that your book?” He said instead of replying to your question. “Yeah, do you read?” A spike of excitement was clear in your face and voice, only to be squashed when he opened his mouth.

“Do you actually believe anything in there is remotely realistic?” He said nonchalantly before removing his cap, letting his fluffy hair fall in his face before almost immediately collecting it back, placing his cap backward this time.

“I—“ you stutter, your mouth slightly agape, not knowing how to reply without sounding dumb. Because, yeah, you strongly believed romance books were able to happen in real life if someone loved you enough. “Well.. I mean, love happens anywhere,” you shrug, but he only nods his head in a condescending way. Not only were you helping him skip in line—he was basically criticizing your view on love.

“Well, duh, love happens, but all that cringey shit is the dumbest thing our generation normalized. Like, nobody is going to confess their love with a microphone in the middle of a dance-off,” he scoffs. You didn’t understand why he actually looked like he seriously hated the idea of making gestures for someone you loved or cared about.

“Well, obviously, I find that stupid as well, but there are other gestures to show your appreciation and love for someone.” You turn your whole body to face him. He’s not much taller than you, maybe two inches if you really wanted to know, and the cap maybe added another inch, but that didn’t matter since your eyesight was eye level with his.

“Love is embarrassing,” he says, crossing his arms in front of him. You felt the lady behind you both, her eyes bore into you both, trying to figure out why the supposed couple were fighting about love.

“How is love embarrassing?” You scoff before turning around to look in front of you, at the back of the head of the man who was ordering.

“Because love makes you do embarrassing shit all the time; that’s the easiest way I can put it for you, ribbons,” he replies with a duh tone, raising his eyebrows at you, which you see from your peripheral vision.

“Ribbons?” You turn to him, your arms crossed over your book as you glare at him. “Pink ribbon. Don’t you think you look a little too old to be wearing bows?” A grin appears on his face as he casually points to the pink ribbon tied into a bow in your hair.

“The fuck? Not only did I let you skip the line, but you’re a) talking shit about my favorite genre, and b) making fun of me wearing bows.” You turn your full body to him, which he only raises his hands in defense, as if you had a gun pointed at him.

“Damn, my bad. I thought this was a free country; you know your amendments, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Yes, I fucking know my amendments,” you reply, absolutely annoyed at him bringing history into this.

“Freedom of speech,” he says before walking in front of you to the cashier. You were annoyed, maybe even angry. How dare he talk shit and say freedom of speech when you just did him a favor.

“He cut in front of me,” you point to him as you tell on him to the cashier, his jaw dropping to the floor. “Did you just tell on me? What the fuck,” he side-eyes you as you just shrugged.

“I respectfully need to ask you to go to the back of the line,” the cashier says, shooting you an apologetic look. You bite on the inside of your cheek to contain the smile that is threatening to slip out, as he sends you a mocking face, which you return, because apparently, you both were literal children. He rolled his eyes before he walked off.

2 years ago..

The second time you met Jungkook, you almost died due to choking on your coke.

You and your best-friend, Amelia, sat in a booth, munching on pizza, while you hear her ramble about the latest drama on campus.

“I can’t believe he cheated on her. I was so shocked, like I couldn’t believe he would do that after he literally gave her a promise ring—I heard it was expensive as well, bro,” Amelia said, stuffing a French fry in her mouth.

Amelia and you had been best friends since your freshman year at Preston University. She ended up in your dorm room by mistake, until security escorted her to her corresponding room. You both even had your calculus class together, which ended in both of you ripping your hair out because you truly had no clue what the professor was talking about.

“Oh my god, you’re lying!” you gasped, taking a bite of your folded pizza. “Alexandra said she didn’t care, but apparently, she was crying at the frat party we were supposed to go to yesterday,” Amelia said, pressing her lips together with wide eyes. As you were about to reply, she gasped.

“Holy shit, babes, don’t turn around, but there’s this fine-ass guy behind you,” she said. Without thinking you turned your whole body to look at the guy she was talking about.

“Or just turn your whole body, I don't care,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, who?” you asked, staring at the group of boys in front of you. They were all cute, just not your type whatsoever. “He just turned around, so you can’t see his face, but the one with the black beanie,” Amelia whispered to you as she took a sip of her Dr Pepper.

As you stared at the back of the boy who was engrossed in a conversation with his friend, a loud laugh escaped his lips before he threw his head back, letting you catch a glimpse of his face.

“Oh, fuck, his laugh is hot as fuck as well,” Amelia said behind you, chewing on her crispy fries. “Do you think he has a girlfrien—“ The words melted from your mouth as the beanie boy turned around. “Yeah, he definitely has a girlfriend,” Amelia said nonchalantly, clearly not catching how your eyes widened, as you both stare at the boy who had cut in front of you in line three years ago.

He was taller, much taller, and he was built—you could tell even from his oversized long-sleeve shirt. As much as you wanted to disagree, he was undeniably attractive. The eyebrow piercing was still there, but it somehow looked better than when you first saw it.

“Ribbons?” he said, pointing at you with a chuckle, making you flinch for absolutely no reason. Amelia looked between both of you, trying to read the room.

“Mr. anti-romantic?” You fired back, a huge smile breaking out on his face before he excused himself from his friend group and made his way to your booth. “I see you got a nickname for me... I feel honored,” he said, pressing a palm to his heart dramatically before shooting a nod at Amelia, who waved with a small smile on her face.

You just rolled your eyes. He was the most childish person you had ever met, and that says a lot since this was only the second time you'd ever spoken to him. “I wouldn’t be so honored,” you mumbled, shooting him a tight-lipped smile as he shook his head with a low chuckle.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Amelia said out of nowhere, both you and the unknown boy's heads snap to the side as a smirk makes it’s way to his mouth, while you throw daggers at Amelia with your eyes for her blunt question. “I doubt he would ever hav—“ you start, only to be rudely interrupted by none other than Mr. anti-romantic himself.

“I actually do, and I was just about to meet her here, but I saw your friend and just had to come and say hello,” he said to your best friend, all while wearing a condescending smile.

“Oof, I feel bad for her,” you shrugged, before placing the straw of your clear cup in your mouth and sipping on your coke.

“Eh, she says I’m a pretty good boyfriend, not a hopeless romantic like someone I know,” he said, watching your eyes meet his before you tilted your head in a mocking way, which he picked up immediately.

“I wonder how you even got her to say yes to you,” you bit back, your eyes maintaining contact with his, not wanting to be the first to break it. But he was too good at it; you almost felt like crumbling into a ball from how intense his stare was.

“I guess you could say there are more ways to please a woman without love letters,” he said nonchalantly. You choked on your coke as the liquid went down the wrong pipe, making you start having a coughing attack.

His and Amelia’s eyes widened as Amelia immediately swatted the man who was right beside you. His hand made contact with your arm, raising it up in the air.

“The fuck are you doing?” Amelia said aggressively, side-eyeing him, as you basically died in front of their wondering eyes. You really didn’t expect him to just talk about his sexual life so openly without a care. You would want to crawl into a hole if your boyfriend ever talked about your private moments like that to anyone.

“My mom said if you put someone’s hand up, it makes your cough go away. I don’t fucking know! I’m not a doctor,” he shot back at your best friend as he raised your arm in the air. Your cough slightly disappeared as you tapped on your chest as if that would do anything to stop it.

“Are you good?” Amelia said as she basically hovered over the table. You felt the whole dinner's eyes on you as you tried to recover from the insane coughing fit you just had. “Y-yeah, fuck,” you coughed, your arms still up in the air from his hold. “I almost for real thought you were about to die. I already imagined myself behind bars,” he said, rubbing his unoccupied hand through his face with a sigh.

“Now I’m hoping I actually died,” you said, yanking your arm away from his grasp.

“We’re leaving, Amelia. Let’s go,” you said, standing up, collecting your jacket and bag, and pushing him out of the way, standing up beside him.

He hovered over you; you almost wanted to jump up to reach his height, but you were already embarrassed enough. So instead, you fixed your denim skirt before looking up at him.

“Well, it was so not nice to see you again, and hopefully we don’t get to meet again, Mr. anti-romantic. Goodbye,” you said as you sent him a fake smile his way.

You pulled on Amelia’s hand before she could say anything and walked out of the dining room without looking back at the boy who was standing in the same place, watching the girl he almost witnessed pass away by choking on coke from him even remotely bringing up sex.

A small chuckle left past his lips as he made his way to the table where his friends were seated.

“Dude, what the fuck happened? Why was that pretty girl coughing like crazy?” Taehyung said, eyeing the door through which you had just left.

Jungkook didn’t know why his heart picked up when his best friend called you pretty. He wasn’t blind; you were beautiful. When he first met you, you both were obviously much younger. If it wasn’t for how much you had grown into your face and the braces you once had were long gone, it would’ve been your aura that gave it away. You were more outspoken, which kinda took him back but sent a sense of excitement through his body.

“No clue. Just some girl I met in my senior year... kinda taken aback I ran into her again,” Jungkook said before picking up the menu from the table, looking for what food he should order. “Maybe it’s fate, bro,” Namjoon teased, which made Jungkook drop his menu on the table.

“You guys know all that shit is bullshit, right? It was just a coincidence. I’ll probably never see her again after this,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning backward onto the booth and crossing his arms in front of him defensively.

“Whatever you say, champion,” Hoseok whistled as he called the waitress.

Jungkook's brain immediately canceled out the noise as he started running through all the possible scenarios that would leave you both at the same place at the same time. His body shook from the possibility of it being fate; he hated the idea of the answer being anything besides actual proven fact. He didn’t care how cynical he might sound; he had trusted so many people in his life, including his parents, who always preached about love and honesty. But flash forward to him having to skip around each house of his parents every weekday and weekend. He hated how he believed them when they said love can get through everything. Absolutely not—divorce.

He just imagined your perfect household, two parents at the same home who still say ‘I love you’ to each other every chance they get. You get to read your books in your living room without a fight breaking out out of nowhere just because someone forgot to throw the trash out.

Love didn’t exist in his eyes. He believed in mutual respect. He doesn’t believe in the whole crazy in love charade. His girlfriend Haneul didn’t really want the whole whispering cute things in each other's ears or dancing under the moon either, and that’s why he chose her.

Plus, he wasn’t an asshole when it came to love when it came to other people. Did he want to ruin their moment and tell them they wouldn’t last? Yes—but he never does.

He saw how broken his mom was after the divorce. He thought about the idea of love and if someone came to love you, you would do anything in your power to not hurt them. It had been five years since his parents’ divorce, and everyone seemed to have moved on perfectly, while Jungkook watched how his perspective of love changed drastically over time.

He was glad that you didn’t have to go through what he had to go through, given your obvious naivety. That was entirely the only reason he shit-talked about love when he first met you, which was the most jackass move he could’ve done, especially after you let him skip the line. But after you told on him to the cashier like a little child, he was thinking of actually tackling you.

Either way, it didn’t matter for him to be worrying or thinking about you in the first place, when he didn’t even know your name. Plus, he would never see you again, that’s for sure.

Present day..

Psychology class was your number one nemesis. You literally begged the counselor to let you have another class that wasn’t psychology. Not only did he laugh, but he said it would do you good. In your mind, he basically called you crazy—maybe you did need the class after all.

As you huffed and puffed to your last class of the day, you fixed your glasses on your face and tightened the high ponytail with the white ribbon that matched the outfit Amelia helped you pick out. You pushed open the door to the class and were greeted by half-empty seats and no professor, giving you the option to choose where you sat.

You were a middle-seat row girl, unable to see far away without your glasses. You also avoided sitting too close to the front, fearing teachers would call on you.

As you took a seat in the chair, a body sat beside you without a word. You didn’t even care to look as you took out your laptop from your backpack, worrying about how this year’s professor might be. You had heard from last year’s students that the teacher might have been the devil’s spawn.

While you were finally seated, you moved your head to your left to see the body next to you engrossed in their phone. Your jaw dropped as you were met with none other than Mr. Anti-Romantic.

“What the actual fuck, are you stalking me or something?” you said, absolutely baffled by how many times you had run into him and from all the empty seats, he decided to sit next to you.

He immediately raised his head from his phone, his eyes widening as he stared at your obviously angry face. “Ribbons? What the actual fuck, I didn’t realize that was you,” he said, throwing his head back in shock.

“You had to know it was me, why else would you sit beside me?” you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of you. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, except now he had a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, and the eyebrow piercing was long gone.

Now that he was closer to you, you could see the small mole he had under his lip and the scar on his cheek. His hair was shorter and black, but classroom lights deceived, so maybe it was fully brown, but you didn’t dare to ask.

“Don’t think you’re special, Ribbons. I just can’t see from the back, and in the front, teachers always pick on you to talk in front of the class, and I’m trying to avoid that,” he explained, having the same process as you, but unfortunately, the other half of his brain didn’t process the idea of love.

“Are you sure you have the right class?” you bit out, hoping he had walked into the wrong class and would have to leave immediately. You seriously couldn’t even wrap your head around the fact that he was here and that he went to the same university as you—this being the first time he had seen you around campus.

“Psychology class A65,” he side-eyed you as you rolled your eyes and faced the board, trying your best to ignore his presence.

“You know you can just move to another seat, right?” he said, pointing to all the empty seats beside you. Your head slowly turned to the side to face his face as he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Why would I move when I was here first?” you scoffed his way as he shrugged, indicating that he couldn’t care less. “’Cause I truly don’t care, but you obviously seem affected by my presence, so Ribbons, pick your seat,” he pointed to the available seats.

You imagined the easiest way you could kill someone, but tackling him to the ground at this exact moment might bring attention to you both, so you just breathed out of your nose before giving him a fake smile and rolling your eyes.

“I’m not leaving, and for your information, I’m perfectly fine and not bothered by your presence whatsoever,” you said, trying your best to seem as calm and collected as possible.

“For your information…” he mocked beside you, trying to imitate your voice before chuckling. “I swear, Ribbons, I can see smoke coming out of your ears and nose,” he laughed.

“Stop calling me Ribbons,” you gritted your teeth, already at your limit.

“What else do you want me to call you? I don’t know your name, and you’re still wearing ribbons, I can see,” Mr. Anti-Romantic pointed to the white ribbon in your hair. You rolled your eyes before sending his calm, collected figure a scanty smile.

“Y/n,” you said, tilting your head to the side, as if asking him to tell you his name. “I like Mr. Anti-Romantic, not gonna lie,” he bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter as you were about to lose your composure at any moment.

“You aggravate me, and I don’t know why,” you mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear—but he did, loud and clear. “Jeon Jungkook,” he said, and before you could reply, the professor strode in, wearing the weirdest clothes you could imagine.

“She looks like that one crazy Victorious teacher,” he whispered softly, only for you to hear, smugly bending downward so you could hear better. A small laugh left your lips. “Sikowitz?” you whispered back as both of you stared forward at the professor, who was talking about the syllabus. “Yeah, spot the difference: hard level,” he whispered.

You looked down at your hands, trying to hide the amusement on your face.

For the rest of the class, you guys didn’t talk whatsoever, and honestly, you wouldn’t know if he tried, since you were absorbed in whatever Mrs. Calderon was saying.

“So, here’s where you start hating me, I’m giving you guys a project,” she said, leaning on her desk, making the desk creak. You could hear small groans from students around you, but not loud enough for her to hear.

“It will be a partner project, which I chose randomly, and no, I’m not changing them. I want you guys to be able to work with whomever, no matter what,” she said, a sense of dread passing through you.

“I would email each and every one of you what the project is about. It is due at the end of the quarter, so I better not hear, ‘I didn’t have time, Miss,’” Mrs. Calderon said before picking up a sheet of paper.

"Here are the partners, so after class, come and check who your partner is so you can start talking about what you both will do." With that the bell ringing, everyone stood up and rushed to the paper, including yourself. You held tightly onto your backpack strap as you waited for people to move out of the way—half of the people bitched about who they got, they couldn’t possibly be that bad.

Your heart dropped to your ass as you read your name—Jungkook squished beside you, looking for his name, only to find it where your finger was already on.

You got paired up with Jungkook. What kind of fuckery was this?

As Jungkook read "Y/n Y/ln & Jeon Jungkook," he couldn’t believe his eyes. He almost lost his mind when he realized it was you when he sat next to you, but he tried his best to act unaffected. However, this was too much of a "fuck you" sign from the universe—Jungkook didn’t think he did something so horribly to be rewarded like this.

What the fuck were the odds, and how could he scientifically prove that it’s not the universe trying to mess with him?

Taglist💌— @httpjeonlicious @thekookiedealer @somehowukook @taiwan0618 @gwsjungkookie @seokout @sealuv79 @junecat18 @joonsanswer @letjungcoook7 @skzthinker @ahgasegotarmy116recs @ivygguk (I couldn’t add some idk why😓)

726 notes · View notes