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mosylufanfic · 3 years

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Baby I’m Not Moving On

Trufax - it took me about a week to write the first 90% of this, and a couple of years to write the last ten percent.

Anyway have some angst and emotional constipation. Title from “Gone Gone Gone” by Phillip Phillips because I fricking love that song.

Baby I'm Not Moving On

The base was sleepy and quiet - not completely, of course, because it was still an Alliance base in the middle of a war. But it was well after midnight local time, Cassian knew, and he'd been up for twenty-some hours himself. Exhaustion dragged at him as he walked through the halls, his go-bag over his shoulder. His feet hesitated before he took the turn into the hallway that ran through the civilian quarters.

Most of them were empty. People who used them were generally only on base for a short period of time before either leaving or enlisting. Jyn was probably the longest-term resident.

"Your quarters are the other direction," Kay said peevishly, chunking along after him.

"It's a shortcut," Cassian said.

"It is approximately fifty meters longer to cut through here."

"It's quieter. Faster."

"There is a ninety-four percent chance that Jyn Erso is asleep at this hour, and a ninety-eight percent chance that she will curse at you if you wake her."

"I know that." He wasn't going to stop and knock on her door, just so he could see her face after a week of being off-planet. She probably would curse him out, and she'd be within her rights, because it was ridiculously late.

He wasn't going to stop.

(But if her light was on -)

He wasn't going to knock.

(Sometimes she had insomnia. Or bad dreams. Or both.)

He wasn't -

As he neared the end of the hallway, his head automatically turned toward the last door, her door. It sat open. He went still.

"It appears that Jyn Erso is no longer in residence," Kay observed.

He took the last few steps toward it and stopped on the threshold, staring in.

The bed sat bare, stripped of bedding. The shelves were empty, the desk folded up into the wall. It looked like every other vacant room in the civilians' wing. As if she had never been there at all.

He didn't know how long he stood, the toes of his boots on the line between the darkness in the empty room and the washed-out lights of the corridor.

Kay said, "Cassian, you should continue on to your quarters. You have duties tomorrow. You are operating at a considerable sleep deficit."

"RIght," Cassian said. "Right."

He turned and continued on his way to his quarters, where he dropped his bag on the floor, kicked off his boots, and dropped face-down on his bunk to sleep for ten hours solid without moving.

When he woke up, his body registered its protests at such treatment. He ignored it and lay with his face mashed into his pillow, thinking, Jyn is gone.

He had been waiting for it since she'd opened her eyes in the hospital wing after Scarif. Why would she stay? She'd had a purpose here, for a time - get the plans - and now she didn't. Her father's evil creation had been destroyed.

He'd read her dossier over and over again. It was spotty and incomplete, not because of poor intelligence work, but because she had moved around so much that holes peppered it like grapeshot. Since the age of sixteen, she'd slid in and out of groups and teams and alliances, usually staying for one or two jobs before she was gone again. It was her pattern; it was how she worked.

Cassian was very good at seeing patterns and predicting behavior from them, and this wasn't even that complex of a pattern.

Jyn Erso was somebody who needed a purpose, and after all it had done to her, Cassian felt sure that the Rebel Alliance wasn't going to fit the bill. She wasn't part of their fight. She'd been snared like a fish, kidnapped out of prison, hauled all over hell's half-quadrant, made to confront every screaming ghost of her past all at once. Why would she stay?

But she had.

She hadn't gone with Baze and Chirrut when they'd left. She'd evacuated Yavin with the Rebellion, come to this temporary base with them. He kept asking himself why, and the only answer he could come up with was one he was afraid to believe in, because it didn't fit her pattern. So he prepared himself for the inevitable.

Every day had been the day he was sure he would see her packing up a bag (probably with things she'd lifted, or talked out of the quartermaster) or see her name on a transport list, or just see the empty space where she wasn't.

Somehow, she was still here. But every day that passed made him more sure that the next day, she would be gone.

He had been gone for a week himself - a short recon to get his feet wet after his injuries from Scarif. While he had done the job, Jyn had sat in the back of his mind like a stone. She would be gone when he got back, he'd told himself in quiet moments. She was certain to be gone when he got back.

And she was.

The stone had migrated into his chest, hard and cold, beating out, gone gone gone.

He peeled himself out of bed, shed his clothes like too-tight snakeskin. He stood in the shower - a water shower, a small luxury due to this planet and his rank - resting his head against the plastic wall. Water beat against his back as he taught himself how to breathe around the stone, learning how it shifted and rolled when he moved.

At least it was done, he told himself. At least he didn't have to dread it anymore. At least now he knew how bad it would be. That was the worst part of any injury, that first shock of pain before you knew how bad it was going to be. After you knew that, you could focus on getting through it.

He thought of how he would glance across the room from now on and not catch her eye, and the stone lurched and choked him. He shut his eyes and breathed some more.

Out of the shower, drying off, putting on clothes, unpacking his go-bag. He focused tightly on what he was doing, not allowing himself to think.

He checked his datapad for messages, sifting through base chatter and announcements. Kay had reported to the droid center for maintenance and repairs. He had a meeting with Draven in two hours. That seemed right. He'd sent a brief, encrypted report once he was out of Imperial space, and this was just to fill in. It hadn't been high-priority, his recon, and nothing he'd seen would change that.

He wasn't actually hungry, but given that he hadn't eaten anything more substantial than half a ration bar in at least a day, he decided he should go to the canteen. They'd be serving lunch now, anyway. He should start getting used to seeing the empty space next to Bodhi.

The canteen was crowded and noisy, and he slid silently through the packed bodies, the close-set tables, letting the din wash over him like waves on the beach.

"Cassian!" Bodhi called out, bringing his head around. He was getting used to that, now - Bodhi just yelling for him, saying his name right out loud like that.

And there, in the space next to Bodhi, the space that was supposed to be empty, Jyn lifted her head and looked at him.

Every nerve in his body lit up with alarm. Adrenaline dumped into his system, fight or flight pricking at his toes. Like he'd been caught out, like his cover was an inch from blowing, like -

Like the wound that he thought he'd understood was about to be torn open, even deeper.

He turned around and walked out.

He came back to himself three halls away from the canteen. She was here. Jyn was still here. All that preparation he'd done, everything, it was for nothing, because she was still here.

The stone had cracked open and it was all hot lava on the inside, searing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Why wasn't she gone?

He walked back, careful and slow, breathing the adrenaline out of his system. His fingers were still shaking when he walked back into the canteen, but he could blame that on low blood sugar.

Bodhi was still at the table. Jyn was gone.

For a moment, he thought maybe he'd hallucinated her being there in the first place. That she really was gone, like he'd known she would be, like he'd been forcing himself to accept -

Then Bodhi said, "Jyn took off. Said she wasn't hungry anymore."

Cassian looked at the half-empty plate next to Bodhi. Jyn ate like a starving lothcat. He'd never seen her leave food behind.

He said, "Oh."

"What was that?" Bodhi wanted to know.

"I forgot something," he muttered. "In my room."

Bodhi looked at him for a moment or two, then shook his head. "I don't know why I thought a spy would be a better liar."

Cassian didn't bother glaring. He went to the food line, collected a plate, returned to the table, and ate, forcing the food down his throat, answering or deflecting Bodhi as needed.

"She probably went to hit things, in case you want to apologize," Bodhi said with tremendous pointedness.

"Since when are you the expert on - " Love, he was about to say, and bit it back. "On us?"

On consideration, us wasn't much better than love.

"I've had to watch you pushing her away ever since Scarif," Bodhi growled. "And then just when I think she's going to say the hell with you, you'll look at her like she's the air you breathe."

"You're a poet," Cassian said dryly, feeling heat crawl up his neck.

The air you breathe?

He hadn't thought he was that obvious.

Pushing her away?

He wasn't doing that. She was the one who -

Wasn't she?

"Why is she here?"

"If you honestly don't know, I'm not the one to ask."

Cassian picked up his plate.

"Where are you going?"

"Away," he said flatly, heading for the recycler.

"To talk to Jyn?" Bodhi yelled after him, and Cassian flinched. He was really going to have to do something about that yelling habit of his.

He tried three different rooms in the practice wing before he found the one she'd commandeered. He knew she heard the almost noiseless swish of the door, but she just kept at her practice, fists thudding rhythmically into the heavy practice bag, in time with the grunts that leaked out through her clenched teeth.

She'd changed out of her usual clothes into shorts and a loose sleeveless top. The hair that usually fell loose and shaggy around her face was held back by an elastic band. A fine sheen of sweat delineated her hairline and the cords of her throat. A few stray strands stuck to her skin.

She was eating better, more regularly. Her face was a little rounder these days. The lines of her body were softer, the muscles in her arms and legs thickening. She no longer looked quite so much as if she was made solely of wires, yanked taut to the snapping point.

She still had that feral look to her eyes, though. He wondered if it would ever fade, and thought not.

His hand, on the jamb of the door, clenched into a fist. Something like yearning opened up in his stomach, gaping wide, hungry, desperate.

He breathed through it until the fist loosened, until the pit in his stomach quieted. Then he moved out of the doorway. He paused a moment to remove his boots and socks before he stepped onto the mat, his feet sinking into the padding, squeaking slightly on the plastic.

He moved around her, to the other side of the bag. She paused, finally, and glared at him. "Something you want to say, Captain?"

Her hands were wrapped, but not particularly well, and the gaps exposed reddened skin across her knuckles. He wanted to re-wrap them for her. Given the look in her eye, though, and the way she'd been assaulting that still-swaying bag, she'd probably use the wraps to strangle him.

He caught the bag, stilled it, and opened his mouth. What came out was, "Why aren't you gone yet?"

Her eyes blazed up for a moment. "You want me gone?"

No swelled up in his throat. He swallowed it.

She slammed her fist into the bag, and the shock rattled up his arms into his shoulders. It shook words loose.

"It doesn't matter what I want." You. Here. Being able to depend on seeing you every day. Being able to make plans, have hopes, think for once about something besides right now - "Your pattern is clear."

Another hit that almost knocked him back a step, even with the heavy bag taking the brunt of it. "My pattern," she said. "Tell me about my pattern, go on."

"You've been here two months. It's past time."

She dropped back, rolling her shoulders, and threw an elbow at the bag that would have broken an opponent's nose.

"Two months is all you've known me. What kind of pattern can you work out from that?"

"I've memorized your dossier," he flung back. "It was much longer than two months. You're never part of any group, not really. You come in, you do a job, and you leave. The only question is when."

"When I'll leave," she said. "Well. That depends. What do they do to deserters?"

His hands slid off the sides of the bag and he said dumbly, "Deserters?"

That was a mistake. She gave it a mighty kick with the full force of her left leg. It swung back and knocked him full-length and gasping on the floor.

She glared down at him. "I enlisted, you gundark!"

Cassian had gotten up from harder hits than that, but he stayed on the mat, blinking, trying to get his breath back. She shifted her weight, her eyebrows softening. "Cassian?"

She padded closer. "Cassian," she said. "It wasn't that - oof!"

He'd lunged up, hooked a hand around her knee, and yanked her off-balance. True to her nature, she turned the fall into an attack, her shoulder driving hard into his abdomen. He let out another grunt, but rolled and flung her to one side. She twisted and landed on her knees, let the momentum keep rolling her around until she crouched on her feet, teeth bared.

He was up on one knee, bracing his hand against the mat.

They considered each other for a moment.

"You enlisted," he said. "In the Rebel Alliance?"

"No," she growled, "in the All-Coruscant Marching Band - yes, in the Rebel Alliance!"

She launched herself at him, and he blocked instinctively, flipping her over his back to the mat. She'd barely made contact before her knee knifed up, missing a fairly sensitive area by spy's luck. They grappled briefly, tangled around each other, their faces an inch apart, breath hot on each other's faces, before she broke his hold and heaved with both legs.

He went skidding across the mat and rolled to his feet in time to duck her swing.

She was a brawler by nature, relying on speed and ferocity to take down her opponents. But her hits were more focused now, and she was more balanced than she had been.

She'd been training with someone who was teaching her hand-to-hand, smoothing out her sloppy raw power into something more targeted and refined.

She’d been training, he thought, and wanted to laugh.

She feinted right, and of course he fell for it. After a breathless tumble to the mat, he found himself pinned, her hands manacling his wrists, her knees caging his hips. It was an absurdly easy hold to break. He could have demonstrated four or five ways in his sleep.

He stayed where he was, laid out in front of her.

A few strands of hair had escaped her headband and hung in her face, fluttering with their breath. Their hearts thundered against each other.

"I enlisted," she said, her face a few inches away from his. "You're stuck with me."

He swallowed. The motion moved through his chest freely, no stone to block its way. "Good," he said.

"Good," she said. "After all that? That's what you have to say about it?"

An instant of increased pressure against his wrists, and then she'd pushed herself up, let him go. She sat back on her heels, still straddling his legs, but sitting on his thighs rather than hovering over his waist. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her intently.

She met his eyes, a challenge in hers.

"Bodhi says I've been pushing you away," he said. "Have I?"

Her eyes slid to the side. "Bodhi says a lot of things."

"What does he say to you?"

She swallowed. He watched it move down her sweat-shining throat. "That I needed to either enlist or leave."

"Is that why you hung around? You were trying to decide?"

"You said it yourself. I'm not a joiner. I don't go in for uniforms and ranks. But I - " She looked away a moment. "I wanted to stay."

"Don't stay for me," he said. "If that's why."

Her head came back around. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why not?"

He swallowed. "Because - I - "

Her cheeks, already flushed, went a duller red. She pushed herself to her feet. "You're not making sense, Captain. First you say Good and now don't stay and would you make up your mind?"

He got up, too. "Jyn, I didn't mean - I - " He'd lifted his hand to her arm without knowing it.

"You grab me and I'll break your hand off," she warned.

He dropped his hand and let the words fall out of his mouth in an ungraceful heap. "If you're only staying for me, when I mess it up, you'll go."

Her mouth fell open. She shut her eyes a moment, then shut her mouth and nodded. "That's - yes. I get that."

Did she? His cheeks burned.

She opened her eyes again. "But you said welcome home."

"I did, but - "

"You said you were with me 'til the end."

"Yes, I - "

"Why would I leave after that? Why would you think so?"

"Jyn," he said softly. "You never said it back."

Her mouth fell a little open. "I didn't know you needed to hear it."

He let out a huff of breath - a laugh, maybe. "Neither did I."

She tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling, as if she couldn't say this and look at him at the same time. "I enlisted because since I met you, I remembered what it was like to be part of something. Not a military. A group. A cause."

He always used silence in his work, letting people fill it themselves instead of prying it out of them. Instinctively, he stayed quiet.

“And if I have to put up with a uniform and a rank to be part of something, well, I'll get used to it, I guess."

"You don't have to worry too much about that," he said. "The Pathfinders don't care too much about ranks or uniforms either."

Her mouth fell open. "How the hell did you know that?"

He gestured at her. "The way you fought. Dameron's been training you, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, all right," she said. "Caught me."

"Before or after you enlisted?"

"Before. He told me about the Pathfinders. I thought, well, hell, I can do that."

"Yes, you can."

"I can do that and stay," she said. "That's what I thought. It's a place for me."

He could have said, There's always been a place for you here, but he didn't. Because she didn't need a place that was held for her, given by the goodwill and grace of others. Goodwill and grace were tenuous, unpredictable things. She needed a place that she made for herself.

She wasn’t staying for him, and he felt his entire body relax. Even if he messed this up, she would stay, not run, and he might have a chance to fix it.

"Stay is a relative term," he said instead. "The Pathfinders are out in the stars almost as much as Intelligence."

She shrugged one shoulder and wiped her forehead free of trickling sweat with her forearm. "A place to come back to, then," she said. "That's not a thing I've had much. Ever, really."

Her pattern, he thought. Of course she hadn't stayed anywhere. She'd never had a reason.

She wiped her face again. “You’ve been waiting for me to run? That’s why you - ”

Why he’d held himself away from her. Careful space between them. Trying to save himself.

“Yes,” he told her.

There was no saving him and never had been.

"But I had the pattern wrong." He'd been looking at it wrong because he'd been afraid to look at it right. Because it was easier to brace for losing her than it was to think she might be a part of his life. "And I was afraid. That I - “ He put out his hand again, and this time she allowed him to touch her, his hand curved around her upper arm. “That I could belong with someone.”

She didn't ask why he'd been afraid of something good. She knew.

“You belong to the Rebellion," she said.

And so did she, now.

“It’s a very big thing to belong to. It’s easy to lose yourself in it.” Her skin was warm under his, flushed with the exercise.

She pulled away and for a moment he was cut loose, spinning in space. But then she took his hands in her wrapped ones, both of them, anchoring him firmly once again.

"I didn't know you were back," she said. "Not until you walked in the canteen, saw me, and took off like you'd run into one of Kay's nastier brothers."

"I got back last night," he said. "Late. I - " He swallowed. "I took a shortcut through the civilian quarters.”

She raised a brow. "That's not a shortcut. That's longer."

"You were gone," he said. "Your room - you were gone."

Understanding moved over her face like a sunrise. Her hands tightened around his. "I'm not gone," she said.

He let himself soak in that.

She looked shy for a moment, and then covered it up with bravado, pushing her face up close to his until their noses brushed. “Are you going to kiss me, Cassian Andor, or am I going to have to do everything myself?”

It made him laugh, and the laugh was still on his lips when he pressed them to hers.

FINIS

#Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #rebelcaptain #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #I LIVE #and I still ship these two idiots #star wars

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quirklessthot · 3 years

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do as i say;

[ shinsou x reader ]

i love your work!! especially the hawks “punishment piece” and i see that your requests are open... so maybe a yandere hitoshi fic with some punishment vibes?? spanking, crying, maybe some spicy mind control??? thank u for writing!!! -anonymous

warnings: 18+, noncon, spanking, mind control

Your hands shake as you pull out a bobby pin, small and inconspicuous - the literal key to your freedom. You'd thought an angel was smiling down on you the day you found the innocent piece of metal lying discarded and forgotten under the living room couch. Without a second thought, you had snatched it up, holding it close to your chest like a secret that needed protecting. It wasn't easy keeping your discovery from Shinsou as you waited for the perfect opportunity to use it, but somehow you'd managed, and now is the time to act.

The pin completely misses the keyhole and falls out of your hand and into your lap. You curse, low and panicked, even though you're alone, and pick it up to try again. As terrified as you are, with your heart thumping almost painfully against your ribcage, you don't have time to fumble around. Shinsou has a frustratingly unpredictable schedule. He moves in and out of the apartment without so much as a hint as to where he goes or how long he'll be away.

This time you manage to successfully insert the pin into the keyhole. You jiggle the bobby pin, searching for the first of the small metal cylinders of the lock's pins. The clicking sound really solidifies the situation in your mind. You're almost overcome with tears at the elation you're feeling. But that could wait for after you break out of this hellhole and get to somewhere safe. You plan on going straight to the first police station you can find. With any luck, the officers there will believe your story of being kidnapped and held prisoner in the so-called hero's home and have the son-of-a-bitch thrown in jail.

The lock clicks, the door swings open, the world seems to slow down for you as panic begins to claw its way up your throat. You don't even have the sense about you to get off of the floor where you're crouched down on your knees. You stare blankly at the pair of dark jeans-clad legs in front of you.

Shinsou's eyes move from the lock you were fiddling with to the distorted, bent bobby pin clutched between your trembling fingers. "What are you doing?" he asks, although judging by his tone, you can tell he already knows the answer to that question.

His voice brings you out of your panic-induced haze. You don't answer, choosing instead to back away, scramble to your feet, and bolt. You're not sure where exactly you plan to escape to - the only door is the one you were trying to break through and Shinsou keeps all of the windows under heavy lock and key. There's nowhere to go, but your fight-or-flight instincts have already kicked in and even your body knows that you stand no chance in a fight against the underground pro hero.

After closing and locking the door (making a mental note to get a couple more locks) Shinsou takes off his shoes, hangs up his coat, and makes his way after you. He doesn't hurry – his pace is slow, measured, almost leisurely.

You can hear him moving about from your hiding spot, calling out your name every so often as if looking for a pet that's ripped up the couch and is now hiding from a scolding. Dread twists your insides as you sit and wait for the inevitable.

You let out a terrified scream at the hand wrapping around your ankle, not expecting him to have found you so quickly. You're dragged from your hiding spot and hauled up by a harsh grip on your upper arm, colliding painfully with the wall of muscles that is Shinsou Hitoshi.

"Kitten,” he begins, voice filled with disappointment. “You know you shouldn't be playing with the locks. Now I have to punish you. You understand, right?"

He looks at you, eyebrows raised as if expecting an answer, but you stay silent, offering nothing more than a watery glare. Shinsou sighs, rolling his eyes. You're too stubborn for your own good. The grip on your arm tightens and Shinsou drags you into the bedroom. Not even bothering to turn on the light, he takes a seat on the bed, roughly pulling you to lie across his lap.

"How many do you think you deserve?”

When you don't answer, Shinsou lets out an irritated huff and smacks you hard on your ass. The sting catches you completely off guard and with the little protection your shorts offer, it hurts enough to leave you hissing.

Another smack echoes loudly in the room, immediately followed by a barely restrained squeal from you. But still, you refuse to speak; no matter what you're not going to answer any of the seemingly innocent questions he continues to ask. You're not going to give in. But apparently, neither is Shinsou. His palm is heavy as he continues to spank you, one right after another, with hardly a break in between and with no apparent end in sight. Your attempts to wrestle out of his grip are met with a warning to keep still and an especially harsh smack on the bottom curve of your cheeks. You seize up, choking back a cry. You didn't think this could get any more painful.

Shinsou ignores your thrashing, pushing your hands away when he moves to pull your shorts and underwear down, so each hit now makes direct contact with your skin. And it's so much worse. You're openly sobbing now; hot tears spill down your cheeks as cries are ripped from your throat. Your skin is throbbing, white-hot pain racing through you with every quickened beat of your heart.

Your entire body is shaking. It's too much. You feel as though you're going to break.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, after what feels like a thousand spanks.

You let out a sob that wracks your entire body. "Yes! Yes, plea--"

Immediately your words come to a halt and your body stills under his quirk's effect taking hold. Your mind is still racing, but no matter how much you will it, your limbs refuse to move. Your tears have stopped, and your once erratic breathing is now deep and calm. You're not even sniffling anymore. Your eyes – pupils white and lifeless - stare blankly ahead of you.

Shinsou places a hand on your head, rubbing with a soft affection that would have you lashing out if you could. "Good girl. Now, get on your knees."

Before your brain can even fully process the command you're already sliding off of Shinsou's lap, knees hitting the wooden floor. You sit obediently between his spread legs, awaiting your next command.

"Open your mouth."

Without hesitation, your mouth falls open. You can't react when he pinches your tongue between his fingers and pulls on the wet muscle, leaving it to hang listlessly over your bottom lip. You watch as he brings his hands down to unbuckle his belt. Any other time the hiss of his zipper would have sent you running in the opposite direction. But in your hypnotized state, you just sit on your knees still as a statue as saliva collects on your tongue to drip down your chin.

Once Shinsou has his cock out, he spends a few seconds fisting himself as he studies at your blank face. You can tell that he's already forgiven you, the dying embers of anger in his eyes quickly give way to lust. There's a smirk tugging at his lips…

You want to scream when he puts a hand on the back of your head to pull you closer to his dick, but you go without complaint, dutifully wrapping your lips around the leaking head as soon as he commands you to suck him off. You're bobbing your head in his lap, giving little choked sounds every time you take him nice and deep, just the way he likes it.

Shinsou sighs, placing a hand on the top of your head. He doesn't pull on your hair or attempt to direct your movements. He instead sits there and enjoys the warm, wet heat of your mouth and the tightness of your throat. The room is silent save for Shinsou's occasional breathy moan and the wet sound of you gagging on his cock.

"That's it, beautiful, get it all the way in," he groans, biting into his bottom lip. "You love sucking my cock don't you?"

It's a pointless question - your reply comes as mindless gurgling - but Shinsou doesn't seem to mind your lack of an answer. He just grunts as he cants his hips, pushing himself even deeper down your throat.

Your jaw aches with the strain and you hope that his increasingly desperate humping signals his release. Just before he's about to cum, however, Shinsou's pulling you away with a firm grip on your hair. Your mouth hangs open, the bottom half of your face shiny with saliva and precum.

"Fuck, baby, you're perfect." He's panting, chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "Get up and strip for me."

And you do, lifting the oversized shirt over your head as you stand, your shorts soon follow, and then you're standing before him completely bare. More than anything, you want to lift your arms and cover your breasts, to shield them away from your captor's leering gaze but your arms stay by your sides, allowing him to fully take you in.

"I'm a little tired tonight." Shinsou's eyes barely leave your body as he rids himself of his own clothing. He moves up to the head of the bed, sinking into the comfortable pile of pillows there. "Ride me."

Mindlessly, you climb onto the bed, taking his saliva-slicked cock in your hand and lining it up with your wet slit. You sink down at a slow pace until you're seated fully in his lap, face not giving so much as a twitch at the intrusion despite the lack of preparation. Your hands move to stabilize yourself on his chest as your hips begin to rock.

"Faster, kitten," Shinsou purrs, hands moving to grip your hips. "Fuck me like you mean it."

Immediately, your pace picks up until you're bouncing on his dick. He's getting lost in the moment, head thrown back as he curses and moans. Your face is blank, devoid of any emotions despite the almost mind-numbing pleasure you're feeling.

It’s not long before Shinsou is muttering a quiet curse under his breath and holds you flat against him, stilling your movements to fill you up.

You're not sure if he does it on purpose or if he simply lost his grip because of his orgasm but you can feel the control on your mind falter and slip. All at once, control over your body comes back to you, and every muted sensation is back in full force. You can feel everything – the cool night air on your sweat-soaked skin, the stretch of Shinsou's cock inside you, the stinging pain of your ass.

It's a rush of sensations that nearly knocks you over and sends you hurtling over the edge of your orgasm. You cry out and arch your back, walls quivering around him. As you come down from your high, you hold yourself up on shaky arms, panting heavily. You refuse to look at the man beneath you even when he starts speaking.

"You know how much I hate punishing you, kitten, but I think you've learned your lesson." When you keep your eyes downcast, Shinsou grabs onto your chin so that you're forced to meet his lidded gaze. "Now say you're sorry."

"Sorry, Hitoshi," you reply, voice flat despite his quirk no longer being in effect.

"'I won't do it again'," he prompts.

"…I won't do it again."

#yandere mha #yandere #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #mha x reader #tw yandere #tw noncon

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1kook · 4 years

Text

skirt chasers - drabble i

a skirt chasers drabble bc they are my fave fictional couple to date <333

tags: coupley and domestic, jk’s terrible attempts at seducing via text, making out, dry humping, spitting (ik idk what came over me), too much talking for this to be sexual pero hey here we are wc: like 3k

entirely based off jungkook from bv3 that man had NO right to look that good and the holy jirkenstocks (jungkook birkenstocks). wont lie this has been completely written in my drafts since November (yes 2019) and i hoarded it under the belief i would make this a whole part 2 which i did not

que dios los bendiga <3

Much to everyone’s dismay, Jungkook’s spring break in Vegas with the boys is cut three days short when Jimin’s dog sitter suddenly cancels, citing a case of homesickness as enough cause to abruptly go home. When you first hear news of this, you’re preparing yourself for the return of a mopey, useless Jungkook, too drained from four glorious days in Las Vegas to carry on. What you’re not expecting is the mysterious text he sends you before boarding a five hour flight with no service (he was cheap).

kook still on vegas lockdown. Have that pussy ready when i get home

“The fuck does that mean?” Chaeyoung is the first to see the message, your screen lighting up on the kitchen counter beside you as you scrub through a mountainous pile of dishes. You try to play it off, after all, Chaeyoung had seen parts of you you hadn’t even seen, but there was no worse embarrassment than having your homegirls see your clown of a boyfriend’s ridiculousness. “He’s so romantic,” she swoons, and you shoo her away from the offending device as you wipe your hands down on your t-shirt.

you for what?? One 20 second round 🤥

Chaeyoung suddenly cackles from over your shoulder, and you swear your soul leaves your body.

You don’t get a response until exactly five hours and thirteen minutes later, your phone vibrating like crazy on the edge of your bathtub, and if you hadn’t given it a hearty kick and sent it flying across the room, front screen shattering into the most intricate spider web of glass shards, it would have fallen into the water. The terror.

kook pls pick me up

kook also haha. U r soooo funny 😑

You’re halfway to the airport, idly sitting in traffic and giving the public a free, Beyonce-like experience of The Script’s Breakeven, when you realize you’re not wearing any pants. You’re not exactly sure which part of Jungkook’s long t-shirt had tricked you into believing you were decently dressed, but you’re not too mad. After all, Jungkook’s trip with the boys had been a last minute decision that did not take into consideration your never-ending thirst for your boyfriend, so a little payback never hurt anybody.

He’s sitting on top of his suitcase outside the airport when you get there, cute Birkenstock-clad feet swinging back and forth as he waits for you like the good boy he is. He crouches down by the passenger window, “Uh, yeah, is this the Uber?”

You can’t even bother hiding the smile that consumes your face, and it only grows tenfold when he finally gets in and immediately leans over the center console to kiss you. “Look who’s finally back from their little bachelor party,” you murmur, eyes lidded dangerously low when he breaks away.

“Oh, the party where I accidentally sleep away my life-savings to a stripper named Aries and then have to go home and beg for my wife’s forgiveness?” He responds immediately, devious pink tongue swiping out to lick at your bottom lip.

You snort. “Joke’s on you, because our hot pool boy kept me company and treated me better in four days than my husband had in six years,” you mumble, finger looping into the silver chain around his neck to pull him close again.

“Not our hot pool boy,” he whines, smile pressed adorably to your lips.

You almost retort, but a ten-second horn blast from the car behind you has the two of you jumping three feet from each other, like teenagers caught making out in the school parking lot.

Just as you’d predicted via text, Jungkook barely has the energy to walk up the steps to your apartment, much less fuck you like he’d promised. “Fuck, stop being healthy and let us take the elevator,” he grunts, pushing his suitcase onto the final platform leading to your floor.

“Nope,” you concede. “The stairs give me a good view of your ass going up.”

He shoots you a scandalized look, like you’re an old man who’d just catcalled him on the street. “Pretty sure that’s my line.”

It’s when you’re unlocking the front door, sending out a little prayer to the heavens (Chaeyoung) for the blessing of an empty apartment, that he notices your lack of proper clothing. “Oh, hell no,” he groans, immediately crowding you against the armchair nearest the door.

You laugh, struggling to turn to face him as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “What seems to be the problem?”

He sighs against the shell of your ear, and you’d be a liar to say it didn’t send a gush of wetness to your core. Jesus, just a single puff of air from Jungkook was enough to turn your coochie into a Fruit Gusher. “Not your sexy legs again,” he whines, and you giggle when he presses those pouty lips to yours.

“Thought I was supposed to have this pussy ready for you,” you tease, tilting your head up until your noses brush against each other. Jungkook lets a soft huff of a sigh go, eyes fluttering shut at your close proximity.

There’s a hand that creeps along the back of your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin until he finally guides it upwards, hitched over his hip. The new position has your body curving backwards, tilted over the edge of the couch as he continues crowding closer and closer to you. “Baby,” he whines, and the tone and sudden usage of your favorite nickname wipes the teasing smile off your face. “I missed you so much,” he purrs, in that tone that says he knows he has you under his complete control, all he has to do is take care of you.

Still, you try to put up some sort of a fight. “I’m sure your eyes were kept entertained in Vegas,” you retort weakly, not even bothering to hide the jealousy in your tone.

Jungkook laughs, before puckering his lips and smothering you. Instantly, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His hair tickles your face from how long it’s gotten, and when you brush it back, collecting it into a makeshift baby ponytail, you can’t even enjoy the sight because Jungkook is pressing his rock hard member against your inner thigh.

“You think I’m a cheater?” He muses when he finally pulls away, a little entranced by the saliva that coats your lips in a thin sheen. “Couldn’t be even if I wanted to.” Before you can ask what that even means, he’s hauling you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, his cock now cradled between your thighs, right where you want him most. You moan immediately, head lolling backwards at the touch you’d craved for days. “Feel that? No one gets my dick hard like you do, baby.”

Even though his adrenaline is on one hundred, and he’s clearly blinded by his lust, Jungkook still sets you down on the bed like you’re made of glass. Any comments you may have made are smothered by his lips on yours, fingers gripping your waist like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and his breath is a little heavy where it fans against the lower half of your face.

“So pretty,” he huffs, rolling his hips against yours. You groan, eyes rolling back as the familiar feeling of your boyfriend between your legs consumes you. Jungkook presses his mouth against the skin of your neck, where the faintest sheen of sweat had begun to form the moment you unlocked the front door.

If you thought you were loud, the sounds leaving Jungkook’s throat are teetering on the edge between a pornstar and a yodelling-enthusiast. You can’t help the smirk crossing your features. “Are you really gonna come?”

Jungkook was many things, and drama queen was definitely very high on that list. He gives you the most scandalized expression, stopping the movement of his hips to scoff. “As if,” he snorts, but you know that little eyebrow furrow a little too well.

You snort, reaching down to his sides as you try to discreetly urge him to start up again. “Baby, your jaw is twitching,” you point out, a soft whine leaving your lips when he shifts your leg up. It’s this same sound that has him finally moving again.

“Yeah, well,” he groans, one hand deathly gripping into your hip now, pressing you down onto the bed so hard you feel the comforter will swallow you up any minute now. “I just got my wisdom teeth removed, ‘member?”

Your retort is briefly cut off by the cry you let out when he ducks down to suck a mark beneath your jaw. “M-Months ago,” you weakly respond,

Jungkook ignores you in favor of using his Hulk strength to fold you in half, groans borderline animalistic as he grinds his cock into your soaked panties. His jaw is tight like you’d said, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. He hated coming before you, seldom doing it unless it was one of those rare days where he wanted you to pamper him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, swallowing your pitiful whines before pushing his tongue down your throat. There was something sexy about your boyfriend being so turned on that his saliva production was off the charts. “You’re gonna ask me to do that thing again, aren’t you?” He predicts.

All you can do is nod, and Jungkook smirks. “Ah,” he says, much like a doctor would, and you comply, mouth wide. You see the muscles beneath his jaw twitch, and a moment later he’s leaning over you with puckered lips, a glob of saliva begging to drip down.

The moan that catches in your throat has him smiling, tongue peeking out to cut the bridge of saliva that connected the two of you, and you want to tell him you love him, but then he’s raising his eyebrows at you, motioning for you to swallow, so you do. “Absolutely filthy,” he grins, and then returns to thrusting against you.

As much as you liked to tease him, he’s good at fulfilling the sexual aspects of his boyfriend role, and he guides you to your orgasm moments later. Of course, he does so by toying with your tits just the way you like, lips pressed firmly to yours as you become a boneless heap beneath him. “That’s it, pretty baby,” he murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before he’s shifting back onto his haunches, tugging you closer until the backs of your knees are cradled carefully in his elbows.

Despite your transcended state, you love watching Jungkook get himself off, and your eyes flutter as you watch him thrust sloppily against your soiled panties. They’re soaked by your own arousal, and had Jungkook’s sweats not been as dark as they were, you’re almost certain you’d see how they stained.

He comes a moment later, body twitching and fingers tightening against your skin. His chest heaves, head lolling back as he tries to regain his senses. Silence envelopes the room.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You blurt, no longer able to pretend like something isn’t completely wrong.

Jungkook rolls his neck out, a satisfying crack resounding, as he angles to look at you again. His tongue is poking against his cheek in that cocky way it does sometimes, and he furrows his brows at you. “What?”

You shuffle up onto your elbows, motioning towards him with the vaguest wave possible. He blinks. You groan.

“What did you do?” You question, and immediately his eyes go wide and shiny in that way they do when you’re reprimanding him and he doesn’t see the wrong in his ways.

Cute little lips forming a pout he remains as confused. “Nothing? We really just went to fuck around and get drunk—“

“Kook.”

“You don’t actually think I cheated, I thought we were just joking? Unless…” he trails off, doe eyes suddenly filled with fear. “You weren’t?”

“Jungkook—“

He intercepts you, “did you do something while I was gone? Who was he? Or she? Wow,” he huffs to himself in disbelief. “I don’t even know you well enough to know if you’re into more than just men.” The frown on his face is getting deeper with each word he utters and you almost can’t believe how dumb he could be. “No wonder… am I a terrible boyfriend?” He asks, voice louder and more concerned than it’s been all night.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You say, and Jungkook looks just as lost by your response as you are with his. “Because I’m talking about whatever this is,” you explain, reaching up to drag a hand through his dual-colored locks.

They’d been carefully tucked under his bucket hat when you’d picked him up, a tuft of blonde peeking out from in front of his ear. It wasn’t until he’d tipped you over the side of the couch that it had tumbled off. Of course, at the time, there had been other pressing matters at hand than wondering why your Hannah Montana blonde boyfriend had returned as Todoroki, which is why you’d waited until now to revisit the topic.

Jungkook doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Then, as if processing the emotional episode he’d just given you, he gives you a sheepish smile. It’s one of those smiles where his lips press together thinly and cutely and the apples of his cheeks seem like the squishiest things in the world. “Oh…” he says, voice soft and nothing like the man that spit in your mouth five minutes ago. “You like it?”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #bts smut #jjk smut #mine #what did i even use to tag with lolol #sc universe #skirtverse #skirtfic

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cherryhanji · 3 years

Text

all the love, hyunjin.

oneshot. hyunjin x jisung, hyunjin x female reader

genre: college au from the onset, high school au, neighbors au, tinge of fluff, angst

words: 2.8k

warning(s): super duper slight mention of alcoholic drinks, and nothing heavy at all except for the extreme trashy plot twist pfft, italicized words are in present times

•••

alexa's note:

y'all its good to be back after a month(?) of not writing hihi, good thing that my fam @districtninewriters decided to hold a valentines' event for their writers! Go check them out here! make sure to read my fellow writers' entries coz u won't regret it, they're amazing as hell!

•••

_____

It feels so good to be back home (even tho you went back last christmas but only for two days). Three years are too much and you missed staying for long at your childhood home. This time, you'll stay for a week so you will do everything with all your might while you're at your parents' house. And one thing from the list is to clean your room. Though you are aware that your parents sometimes clean it. But since you were here, it's time to declutter all the things that are no use for you.

You started by cleaning your closet, removing all the clothes that you don't need anymore. Bringing out all the ones you needed when you come back at the dorms. While rummaging through your clothes, you saw the brown box nicely placed at the bottom of your closet. You forgot that the box was here since your closet was stuffed with clothes. A smile crept up on your face as you grab the box. That box contains all of unnecessary things that you kept from your high school years.

You sat on your bed as you open the box, completely forgetting that you have things to do as soon as you open it. Torn pages from notebooks, folded papers, pictures, arcade tokens and random stuff are inside. Smiling as memories rush back everytime you see a specific stuff. The smile that was on your face eventually disappeared when a pink folded paper caught your eye. You picked the paper up and opened it. it was the letter from your neighbor, your bestfriend hyunjin. remembering how you felt after reading this letter from him.

•••

y/n. it's hyunjin.

i know you know why i made this letter. but if not, well i just joined our school's event. this is nuts and unexpected. but i guess this is the right time..? or probably not but i think of this as an opportunity. so why let it slip?

i know you'll be weirded out, and i'm expecting it tho. but pls don't worry. you don't have to do anything. i just want to give this to you so you can be aware of what i'm going to tell you.

•••

you suddenly remember that he made this letter because of the foolish idea your school came up for the valentines' day that time. it was when you were all in your ninth grade, almost 6 years ago.

•••

"So how many letters are you going to give to Jisung?" your friend, Ryujin asked as she fiddled with the letter she received from someone.

"Ryu, I already told him that I won't give him and he understand. And please, couples aren't required to do it. We already know that we feel the same for each other, so why bother? Jisung knows how special he is to me." You said, frowning at her. you already told Jisung about it. It's not that necessary and it won't affect your relationship, like it was such a shallow thing to do.

"Your annoying bestfriend's outside." Ryujin said and pointed at the door where you saw Hyunjin.

"I'll just go to him. Go read that letter with all your heart. Maybe they're the one for you." You said and gave her wink which made Ryujin roll her eyes at you.

"Hey stupid." You said as soon as you approached Hyunjin who pinched your arm jokingly.

"Hello too, my stupid best friend. So what are you up to?"

"You were the one who went here and you're the one asking that? I'm gonna ask that to you, what are you up to?" You said making Hyunjin silent, but the boy just rolled his eyes at you. What's with people and they keep on rolling their eyes on you?

"Whatever. You busy? Just wanna ask you to go with me to the mall. My treat." He wiggled his eyebrows at you and showed her mother's credit card.

"What the-- did you just stole your mom's card again? Wait let me tell her--" Hyunjin tapped your arm when you tried to get your phone from your pocket. He looks like he's the type of guy who wouldn't do it, but you've known him for years and he can be a sneaky rat sometimes.

"No I didn't- I asked her okay? And she let me because she knows I'm with you. She likes and trusts you so much she lets me use her card for our mini-date" He said and wiggled his eyebrows at you. This kind of banters are normal between and it doesn't really affect you, tho sometimes, or you should say, you used to feel moved by this kind of retorts from him. this means nothing to you now, as you said so to yourself.

"Okay, okay fine. But Jin, Uh, uhm. Jisung already asked me a while ago, and I said yes. So I might not be able to join you with your mini-date. Sorry." It's obvious that his expression changed into something that made you feel somewhat guilty.

"Oh, why did I forgot about that? Okay, nevermind. Enjoy your date then." He said and flash you a smile, and you can really tell that it was just a facade. But you decided to brush it off.

"Why don't you ask Ryujin? Seungmin? Felix?" You decided to suggest, since the three are his friends too.

"Uhm, yeah. I'll just ask them. Good luck with your date, by the way. I know Jisung will make you happy, especially it's your first Valentines' date together." He replied making you grin like an excited kid.

"Don't smile too much, you look ugly, remember?" He retort making you glare at him. He's back with being a mood breaker. He is really your best friend.

"Whatever, you look ugly too, you know that? Anyways, I need to go already, maybe Jisung's waiting for me. See you tomorrow then?" He nod before bidding each others' goodbyes, a little pained knowing that you won't join him for the first time on Valentines' day. Every Valentines', You and Hyunjin have a tradition of mini-date every Valentines' after school. Treating each other foods, but mostly Hyunjin was the one who always spends since "he proposed this idea to you" which you immediately agreed because Hyunjin's so fun to be with. But after rejecting him for the very first time, makes you a tad guilty. But he understand it, right? Yeah, he understands it.

•••

You had a nice and special day with Jisung. It feels surreal, because you were able to celebrate Valentines with the person you like, the guy who cherish you with all his heart. Jisung is a nice guy, and you'll do everything not to hurt him. He has a special space in your heart. The guy you're sure who will stay with you no matter what happen. Like Hyunjin.

You shook your head when Hyunjin suddenly passed by on your train of thoughts about your boyfriend. Hyunjin is different, he is your best friend, your confidant. The guy who you grew up with and also has a special space in your heart. But they are utterly different. Jisung is Jisung, he is your boyfriend. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your bestfriend.

"Y/N! Y/N" You went out of your trance when you heard your mother calling your name downstairs. You just got home from your after school Valentines date with Jisung, and you must admit, you feel giddy, extreme butterflies took flight in your stomach. Everything was just perfect for you.

"What is it, Mom?" You went downstairs and saw your mom at the kitchen.

"Hyunjin's outside, calling for you. He's outside, I'm letting him in but he said he won't stay long, he just need to give you something. Go to him, don't let him wait." Your mom beckoned you to go to Hyunjin, you checked the time first and its already 7 in the evening, what's with him?

You saw him standing outside, looking edgy, making you baffled. Your "hey" made the boy jump a bit and flash you an obviously nervous smile.

"What's up? Mom said you'll give me something. What is it?" You said as you approached him, the higher the proximity, the nervousness he feels also increases. But why?

"Uh, hey. Uhm yeah. I'm gonna give you something. Uuhm- here it is." He gave you a folded pink paper with his trembling hands. You attempt to open it but the guy moved faster.

"Please open it after I leave. Please?" Your eyebrows knitted and nodded slowly, agreeing with the way he prevented you from opening the letter, making you more confused.

"So what's this all about, Hwang Hyunjin? Is this some sort of prank? A blackmail?" You said joking. Hyunjin just gave you a sheepish grin, completely lacking of words to reply to you. The answers are inside the paper he gave you. So what else would he say to you?

"No. Just promise me that you will open that one when I leave, okay? So, I'm gonna leave now. See you tomorrow?" Hyunjin bit his lip, bidding his goodbye to you before he sprint out of your sight, didn't dare to wait for your response. You just rolled your eyes and shrugged, examining the paper he gave you. But there's a sudden strange feeling crept inside you, didn't have an idea why and where it came from. You went back to your room and decided to read the letter there.

•••

Just promise me one thing. don't you ever dare avoid me after reading this. but maybe i'll understand it if you do. i am not insensitive you know?

yep, i like you silly. i don't know when this whole thing started. i swear, it's like wow, what's this i'm feeling? do i like y/n? oh yeah, i like her. i see and feel things differently when i started liking you, but not in a creepy way! i'm not that kind of person! it's like even if you're just doing those normal things like you always did back then, it feels more special, bizarre. is it always like this if you feel something romantically towards that person? or am i just overreacting? whatever it may be, that's what i felt.

remember when you slipped on the hallway because of the slippery wet floor, good thing i was with you and i am able to catch you, then you told that you really can't live without me? maybe for you it just casual, just a friendly banter, but for me? not gonna lie, it made my heart jump out of my chest. and luckily my face don't blush that too much, you're not able to see how affected i am with that. there are more, but i won't write that anymore. It won't fit in this goddamn piece of paper!

•••

Did you expect this? Absolutely not. But you wished he told you sooner, sooner so you won't feel any regrets now. He likes you, but do you still like him? You definitely don't know. You already have Jisung, but do you think that reason is enough? Your mind is rambling with thoughts. All you were aware of is you used to feel the same way for him. But is it still here? You really don't have an idea. Why does it have to be late?

Hyunjin is the type of person who you will easily like. With his bubbly, sometimes slow-witted (yeah he is) but caring and loving persona, you'll just eventually love everything about him, no wonder all girls from your school are after him. And you are an example of it. Having an advantage as a best friend. You are lucky that you are one of the women he treasures the most. And you are grateful for it. Too grateful that you started growing feelings for him that exceeded the line of being just best friends. It lasted for about two years, you know you were too young back then, but it's Hyunjin and you know how much he cares for you. But soon you realized that he's just being like that since you are his best friend. So you tried moving on, thoughts of telling him about what you feel passed your mind but didn't have enough courage to do so. Now, knowing that he feels the same way too, made you feel somewhat regretful. You are mad, just mad. But do you have any rights to be mad at Hyunjin? Actually none. Guy doesn't even have an idea you like him too. This whole situation is so much frustrating than you've ever imagined. You never want this to happen, no one wants. Now, you have no idea what to do, with Hyunjin's feelings. He did mention that you don't have to do anything, he just wants you to know how he feels, but it's like something inside you was telling you otherwise. What are you gonna do now?

•••

you know, you've been my bestfriend for years ever since you live in this neighborhood, and i am so grateful for that. i am grateful enough to know you, grateful enough to be a bestfriend that is always by your side. So please, please don't say sorry if you don't feel the same way. i just want to tell all of this to you, because i can't always keep this secret. i needed to vent it out. i need to tell you. so that i won't regret it in the future.

i can see how happy you are with jisung. and i am not planning to steal that happiness from you. what kind of friend am i if i'll do that? i know you too will last, i can feel it. but don't forget me, yeah? i am still your bestfriend, your neighbor, and your best boy.

all the love,

hyunjin xx

•••

You were thankful that Hyunjin stayed by your side after all those happened. He accepted that he won't stand a chance anymore. You tried and tried, to get rid of those feelings left you have for him and luckily, you did. You were happy with Jisung.

You picked up another folded paper, this time it was a letter you made. For Hyunjin. You planned on giving this to him, but you soon realized that all your feelings for him are much better left unsaid. You don't want him to feel remorseful just because he didn't tell you what he feel sooner.

You heard the doorbell rang, immediately jumping out of the bed, thinking that it was your parents.

"Coming!" You shouted as you run your way down the stairs and greet the person from the other side of the door.

"Mom? isn't it too earl- Oh." Your rumblings abruptly stop when you saw who is the person, are the persons outside your home.

"Hey Y/N! how are you?" Ryujin greeted you and envelope you with her warm bear hug, a smile automatically creeping up on your face, as the other people flash you a smile.

"I-I'm good. How about you guys? Come in, come in!" You said and let them inside your house.

"I'm definitely fine! These two? I don't have an idea." Ryujin said as he rolled her eyes at the two, making the other guy frown.

"Don't tell me you two fought right before going here?" You asked the guys nod in unison.

"Exactly, because he almost declined from going here. What a brat, didn't you miss your best friend?" Jisung said making Hyunjin sigh in defeat.

"I do! It's just that I am not in the mood to get up from my bed. Our very entitled professor just rejected my proposal that I worked for almost two weeks, just wow." You can't help but to laugh at your best friend, he really did not change, so dramatic ever since.

"You know, you just need a date. You're depriving my best friend hm? Maybe Jisung's not being a responsible boyfriend I think, do you agree Ryu?" Ryujin sneered and nod in agreement, making Jisung groan.

"Am not! He's the one ignoring me these past few weeks, and you'll pass the blame on me? What a sweet best friends you are." Jisung babble making you all laugh.

"Well, don't fight now, please? Let's just all catch up with our lives. What do you guys want to do?" You suggested.

"Pizza delivery and soju please! I need that" Hyunjin suggested and you immediately agree.

"Gotta go upstairs and grab my phone, be right back." You said and run upstairs to get your phone.

You bit your lip and realize that you still have an unfinished business in your bedroom. You just shrugged and tidied the box, storing the letters back and putting it back inside your closet. For now, you just want to catch up with the people you cherish.

•••

oh my, this is my first time writing a scenario involving member x member pairing, tho not the main pairing, but i rlly hope u like it🙃

- alexa

#districtninewriters #inkidz #stayverse #stayhavennet #skzwriternet #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids drabbles #skz drabble #hyunjin drabble #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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irwintry · 5 years

Text

11 Reasons Not to Fall in Love

Warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol

Summary: Ashton is in love, and Y/N might be, too. There are a million reasons not to fall in love–– here are eleven.

Word Count: 6.7k

ONE: YOU MIGHT NOT EVEN KNOW IT

Ashton sprinted down the terminal.

His suitcase rattled behind him, the wheels sputtering as they hit the cracks in dirty tiles. And his shoulders ached from the weight of his bag carving into already-sore muscles. A pair of headphones had fallen from his pocket down near gate A3, but he hadn’t bothered to retrieve them. Not when his connecting flight had less than ten minutes until departure. Ashton couldn’t waste another minute apologizing to strangers for slamming into them during a moment of distraction.

Sweat accumulated under his arms and along his hairline. Long corridors awaited him, meanwhile, his lungs strained within his ribcage as he rounded corner after corner. He hadn’t remembered the airport being this large. Perhaps he had slipped into a Twilight Zone nightmare where every doorway led him to where he had once been. Time ticked away, and Ashton was too frantic to check the clock on his phone.

“Final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles. Please make your way to gate D26. That is D for Delta. Again, this is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles, located at gate D26. Thank you.”

“Shit,” Ashton spat, his knuckles curling in a firm grip around his duffle. The same duffle his mum gifted him nearly six years ago, yet it still worked like a charm. The duct tape held up well.

His feet skidded against the rug leading into gate D26. He opted out of the dramatics, slowing down his pace and walking calmly around the rows of seating before addressing the gate agents with a smile. They saw plenty of passengers like him–– late, damp, and a bit smelly as well. But that didn’t erase the scowls from their features. He sped down the jet bridge, dropped off his carry-on at the end, and boarded the plane with two minutes to spare.

“Hey, hi, sorry,” he mumbled to the flight attendants, but his breathy words hardly translated through his large gasps for air. It didn’t take him long to find his seat in first class. The large cushions enveloped him like an old friend. He sat back after placing his bag underneath the seat before him, and his eyes fell shut as a sigh left his lips.

Ashton’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

snail butt:

text me when u land!!!!!!

His cheeks burned. A smile stretched slowly on his cheeks, the kind of smile that wrote novels and lit up silver screens. It was a smile that could not be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Ashton’s stomach had been stuck with thousands of pins. And all it had taken was a single text from you.

“Only a fool who’s in love smiles like that.”

Ashton turned to face the person behind the voice, his eyes wide and watery as he shut off his phone. “Excuse me?”

The older man beside him chuckled. “I know a smile like that anywhere.”

“In love?” Ashton repeated, soon falling into laughter himself. “No, no, I’m not––”

The man winked and glanced away, but Ashton chose not to harp on a nonsensical conversation. Instead, he stared at the seat before him, mouth slightly ajar as he registered the older man’s words. Ashton had never been in love, at least he believed it to be so. He had no knowledge of the feeling. So, he rejected what he heard.

He spent the next few hours with his gaze locked on the clouds, wondering if what he felt for you was, perhaps, something a little like love.

TWO: IT’S ONE-SIDE

The lights had flushed out his skin. Every inch of it was warm and wet to the touch, a sensation he knew well but hadn’t quite gotten used to. Even after thousands of shows–– thousands of performances that kicked his adrenaline to new heights only to have it plummet by the time he made it to the showers. Ashton stood against the tiled walls and let the water pelt against his skin. The pressure was never how he liked it. And the water was never hot enough.

He liked to call you after shows. He liked to hear about your day. You told him about the customers that pissed you off and the ones that sweetly tipped you a little too much. You told him that Oatmeal had taken a poo in your bathtub again, and he’d laugh at the thought. He’d think about the faces you’d make, because while you’d be upset one moment, your anger never lasted long. You could never stay mad at your cat.

Ashton had yet to call you tonight. He sat on the bathroom floor instead, fingernails picking at scabs on his palms while the sounds of J. Tillman’s Cancer and Delirium echoed around the room. He didn’t have the option to sit much longer; they had to pack up and drive off to a new town overnight. He always thought about the what-ifs. What if he walked out right then and there? What if he left without saying goodbye? What if he hopped aboard a plane and moved to the other side of the world? What if he cut off all contact with everyone he knew? And, what if that included you?

The thing that scared him the most was the possibility of it all. He could do whatever he wanted. It was his life, his body, his mind–– he had the ability to walk away whenever he so pleased.

He had the ability to forget about you.

Ashton stared at your contact on his phone. A picture from your New Year’s Eve party faced him, your goofy, smiling face staring up at him, happiness permanently immortalized within a small circle. And he wasn’t sure what your contact name meant anymore–– it had been an inside joke from years before, but time stole the memory.

He could delete your number if he wanted. He could rid himself of the pain of loving you by losing you. He could end everything now.

Ashton called you instead.

“You’re eating away at my cellular data,” you said right away, and somehow, the sound of your voice always made him feel better. All of his previous thoughts melted away. “How was the show? How are your bloody hands?”

“Beaten t’hell,” he spoke, but his words felt lifeless. Ashton could no longer identify his exhaustion. He felt like a stale being, like the grimy tiles beneath his bum as he counted scratches on the bathroom mirror. “Tell me about your day.”

“Didn’t do much,” you replied. “Oh, but––“

You talked for a half-hour. About the dentist, about your cat, about the food you ate... and he listened with pleasure. He listened because it was the only thing keeping him from walking away. It kept him from wiping the slate clean.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to love like this. It was one-sided, trivial in every aspect, and you had no idea how much it pained him to even think about you. His urge to leave it all behind grew larger every day.

You didn’t love him. You didn’t see him the way he saw you.

“Hey, bug,” he mumbled. You had been talking about a Tinder date, one that went oh so right, and Ashton gripped his thigh until he drew blood. His eyes screwed shut at the idea of you piled under bedsheets, arms tied around the neck of someone else. “’m gonna have t’let you go.”

“Aw,” you said.

He pictured your pout.

“Well, okay,” you continued. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Ashton forced a smile. He wished you could see the ache behind it. “Of course, doll. Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

J. Tillman’s voice filled the tile room once again. And Ashton sat wishing your words held meaning. He wished he could erase the casual and fill in sentimentality. Because he now knew what love was, and he knew you would never feel the same.

THREE: THEY LOVE SOMEONE ELSE

His kitchen faucet had been dripping for eleven days. The noise faded into the background, its constant drip, drip, drip like an unspoken rhythm to Ashton’s ears. He found himself tapping along and making up songs to the beat of these drips. They weren’t irksome–– not for the first eleven days.

He was lonely on the twelfth day. Beaten hands pushed back dirty and newly dyed dark strands of hair. Ashton hated looking at his appearance in his bathroom mirror. The dark circles were unfriendly, and he hadn’t seen his skin that sickly color before. He was malnourished at his own expense. And he was exhausted.

Tired of spending all of his nights staying up until four because being home felt like a prison. Tired of looking at pictures of you and your boyfriend while Ashton was stuck wallowing with a sore heart. A sore heart that failed to tell you how he felt sooner. Because now he saw your face when you were with him–– with your boyfriend, and you looked so happy. Ashton couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself.

It seemed as though everything was falling apart at once. The faucet, his relationship with you––or lack thereof, and suddenly his dishwasher was overflowing, and every meal he made he was burnt to a crisp. The twelfth day of his faucet leaking was the last straw.

But Ashton didn’t want to call a plumber. He took the matter into his own hands.

An hour later, he had flooded part of the kitchen and dented a pip with his wrench. The activity hadn’t gotten rid of stress or anger, and it certainly hadn’t distracted him from thoughts about you.

He sat back against his fridge, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks while he avoided the ache in his spine. The leaking had only gotten worse, but Ashton decided he would worry about it on the fourteenth day. He wanted to curl up on his couch and stay there forever. He wanted to rot in his home (was it even his home?) and have everyone forget about him. To have you forget about him. He wanted to forget about you.

snail butt:

hey.

pls answer me

are u ok

Ashton kept the messages open on his phone, but he didn’t respond to them. He wasn’t touched by your concern right now. He felt numb, and he wanted to sink into the tiles and melt in with the puddled water. It wasn’t normal anymore–– to feel this way. He lost himself in the shape of his hands; they no longer looked like his hands. Did he even exist?

snail butt:

ash

can i call

His eyes narrowed. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to talk to you. You were the last person on the earth he wanted to talk to. All because he did want to tell you everything, but he knew he couldn’t. You had always been a constant in his life, and the reason you no longer were had fallen upon his shoulders. Because he had fallen in love when he never meant to in the first place.

Suddenly, you were calling him, and his fingers stayed still. His thumb didn’t move to answer the call.

This wasn’t who Ashton was. He always answered your call no matter where he was, no matter what time of day. His eyes brimmed with tears, yet they refused to spill. No one said love could be this painful. No one said it would be like this.

You called again, a contact picture of you in minion goggles popping up only to disappear a half minute later. Ashton knew he was worrying you. He felt the fear creeping up into your chest while you tapped “voice call” over and over, meanwhile mumbling a few frustrated words involving insults you never meant. You had sensed his change in behavior long ago. He didn’t blame you for forcing communication like this.

That was why he wanted to pack his things and leave sometimes. It was easier than convincing everyone that he was okay.

Ashton:

Hey sorry I missed your call

Can’t talk right now

Love you

FOUR: EVERYONE KNOWS BUT THEM

A familiar feeling filled Ashton’s stomach. It knotted and twisted, but it never loosened. His grip on his phone tightened with every word he read. Knuckles ached while his fingers dug into the metal siding, and tension soon collected in the hinge of his jaw.

This had been his night so far. Stuck in between tables and chairs in the middle of a bar while you texted him about your boyfriend. But Ashton wasn’t mad because of that. His anger boiled because your boyfriend had mistreated you, and Ashton was hearing every little bit about the story.

He believed that he was seconds away from breaking his phone altogether.

“Ashton.”

His head shot up, small curls falling over his eyes as his jaw clenched. A bunch of worried eyes faced him.

“You okay, mate?” asked Michael. His voice was hushed and full of a certain comfort that his friend needed to hear.

Ashton swallowed, and he could feel all of the individual muscles in his cheeks strain. The gray dots on his phone appeared again–– you had more to say. “’m fine,” he spoke. His eyes said otherwise. They were watery and wide, filled with an easily read emotion, yet he hoped his friends would avoid the conversation.

Luke hummed. “Sure.”

“Is she okay?” Michael set his drink down on the table before them.

The words sunk in Ashton’s chest. He appreciated their concern. He appreciated that they cared about you. But he didn’t want to talk about it–– he never did.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Convincing.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” asked Ashton, voice raising in frustration while the sea of eyes blinked back in response. A cold silence met him, but the music in the bar carried on. He sighed. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

He gripped his forehead and wiped the sweat from his drink onto the table. His fingers trembled as he did so.

“Does she know how you feel?” Michael mumbled.

Ashton raised a brow. “Know how I–– what?” He began to laugh. He felt strange–– like anger was fighting with anxiety, and he knew he could no longer repress his feelings by this point.

“Ash.”

He turned to face Luke.

“It’s obvious,” said the blond. “We’re not stupid. We know you love her. We’ve known for the past like, six months.”

The frustration softened, and soon, Ashton deflated. His shoulders slumped as his frown deepened. “It’s obvious?” he whispered.

“Not that obvious,” Calum intervened. “You jus’–– you get really sad when you get feelings for someone.”

“I’m not––” Ashton straightened his spine. “I’m not sad. We’re fine. She’s fine. We’re both really fine.”

“I’ve never seen you guys this distant before,” Michael said.

“Friends grow apart.”

“Not like this.”

Ashton dug his fingernail into the wooden tabletop.

“Dude,” continued Michael. “You gotta tell her soon. It’s just gonna keep hurting if you don’t. And it’ll keep gettin’ worse and worse.”

“Or maybe it’ll hurt worse if I do tell her,” muttered Ashton.

“So, you do love her?” Luke asked.

Ashton waited a moment to answer. “Yeah.”

Silence washed over the group, and a beat later, Michael asked, “does she love you?”

Ashton stared at a neon sign in the distance. He could hear its buzzing from his seat. It gnawed at his eardrums and wedged itself under his skin. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t.”

FIVE: THEY ARE OBLIVIOUS TO YOUR PAIN

Ashton had been late to his own birthday party. He strolled in after forty minutes, heart heavy while he pushed through sweaty bodies that he hardly recognized. The stairs were his destination, and he could only fake so many smiles. He could only force empty hellos for so long before someone was bound to pull him aside. Their skin burned his.

Because it had been you, and every touch was a pain unlike any other.

“Hey, hey, birthday boy,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “Miss me?”

Ashton stared at you in awe. Not because you looked stunning, which you did. You always did. But because he hadn’t seen you in four months. He had hardly spoken to you— he felt like he hardly knew you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered as he wracked his brain in search of something to say. Or rather, the right thing to say. Heat trickled up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” you asked. The drink in your hand had hardly been touched. Meanwhile, your fingers toyed with the small plastic straw.

Ashton felt his smile grow. His stomach was on fire. “Yes— yeah. Give me a fucking hug.”

Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso, your head burying into his shoulder while he tried to memorize the feeling of you against him. He missed being held by you. It came with a sense of belonging–– like he was always meant to be here.

“Did Michael fly you in?” asked Ashton, and meanwhile, he kept his hands on your upper arms. His gaze on you was intense–– that he knew, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Had you always looked that beautiful?

You shook your head. “Wanted to surprise you myself.” A smile grew on your lips.

Ashton smiled as well, but it ached to falter. He just wanted to be happy around you.

The drinks poured on, night crawling with sweat and glitter and everything Ashton had wanted to avoid. As the hours passed, you stuck to him like glue. And the more alcohol in your system, the more you kept your hands on him. Unsteady fingers scraped down his arms whenever a good song came on through the speaker. You were in constant movement, and all Ashton saw was a gaussian blur of colors and smiles.

He locked himself in the upstairs bathroom.

He sat there for at least an hour, knuckles drumming against polished tile while the bass reverberated through the floor. It had been months since his last interaction with you–– he never knew when he would see you next. And then you were dancing with his friends, mind elsewhere while you tried to forget about the dried tears over your ex-boyfriend. You were swaying and laughing, looking like an angel kissed you just that morning, and he hadn’t been ready for any of it.

In all honesty, Ashton would have preferred not seeing you at all. Your presence taunted him. It reminded him of all of the mistakes he made, and it reminded him that you would never love him the way he loved you.

Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his face. He washed away the past couple of hours in order to prepare for the next few. In order to see you again, he had to forget all of his feelings for the night.

But he couldn’t. He barely took a step downstairs before retreating to his bedroom. It was his own birthday–– he could be miserable if he wanted to be. Did he even want to be?

Ashton changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He could still hear the music through the floorboards, but it no longer bothered him. His phone remained silent with no phone calls or texts asking where he was. And then the door opened, and you walked in.

“Uh oh,” you said. “Birthday boy went missing.”

“You found him.”

You smiled softly. “You okay?”

Ashton shrugged. “Tired, s’all.”

You kept your arms crossed as you looked at him. He felt like you were analyzing everything about him. Perhaps you could read minds. Perhaps you already knew how he felt about you.

“Ya wanna sit?” he asked you, motioning to the empty spot next to him on his bed.

Your smile grew. “Duh.” You rushed over, flopped down against the comforter, and nestled into him. He hadn’t expected that last part. “Missed you,” you mumbled against his shirt, and your arm twisted around his. You were warm–– it was a good warmth.

“Missed you, too, bug,” he whispered. He leaned back against the pillows and took your body with him.

You hummed. A comfortable silence settled in, albeit the soft music from down below, and all Ashton could feel was you. He felt your skin, your heartbeat, your smile... He felt the happiness he had been looking for since the night began. This was why he needed you.

You turned to look at him. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Ashton raised an eyebrow at you.

“We’ve been friends for like ten years,” you said. “I’ve even kissed Luke. Why haven’t I kissed you?”

“You kissed Luke?”

You pressed your palm against Ashton’s chest. “Should we kiss?”

“I don’t think––“

“We haven’t even tried it.”

Ashton shrugged. His heart rate had doubled, and the temperature in the room spiked. “Yeah, well...”

“Do you wanna?” you asked.

His limbs felt numb as he sat up. “Maybe now’s not the best time, bug.”

“Oh.”

Ashton wiped his hands against his thighs, and when he looked over at you, a pout had found its way onto your face. The soft light from his bedside lamp reflected in your watery eyes and in the moisture on your lips. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Shit.

“Why do you wanna kiss me so bad?” he mumbled.

You glanced down. “I’ve always wanted t’kiss you,” you said. You looked back up at him, and he saw something in your eyes that he had never seen before.

It gave him hope.

He nodded, swallowing thickly while he fought back conflicting thoughts. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

Ashton nodded once again. “Yeah. We can–– we can try it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, meanwhile wishing he had let the whole thing slide. He wished he could turn back time and never let himself feel like this.

But then you smiled, and he thought that, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t get the chance to think about anything else before you pressed your lips to his. It was quick, almost as if it had never happened. You moved away slowly, and he nearly pulled you back.

“Well,” you whispered, chuckling once more. The heat of your breath met his skin. With your arms still around his shoulders, you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing you had laid eyes upon.

He wanted to believe it.

“Well,” he said in return. A small smile grew on his lips. He hardly remembered the kiss, but he knew he needed more. So, he placed his arms around your waist.

You leaned in again, this time capturing his lips gently between yours, but he held you close.

And then he pulled away. He pulled away because it meant too much to him. He pulled away because it didn’t mean anything to you.

SIX: NO ONE WILL EVER BE THEM

Ashton’s hands were numb.

The sun had only begun to rise. Its golden hue cast long rays through his blinds, the light taking shape and giving the dust a chance to shine. The colors washed against her back, but he wasn’t looking at that. He didn’t want to look at her.

He arose slowly, careful not to wake her before making his way to the bathroom. He kept his shower brief, and soon, the memories of the night prior infiltrated his brain. They had been together for a few weeks now. A few weeks of late-night hook-ups and early morning goodbyes. And last night, he called her by your name. She didn’t even notice.

Ashton wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. It was all numb. He could hardly feel the loofa as it scrubbed against his skin.

The morning was quiet around him. He thought about her while he spread jam on his toast. She was beautiful. She had kind eyes. But Ashton had to quit lying to himself. He never wanted to get used to the scent of her perfume on his sheets. He didn’t want to lose himself in the color of her eyes. He didn’t want to memorize her.

He grabbed his keys and drove off, skimming the coast with his tires as he dreamed of easier days. And then he called you.

“G’mornin’, Mister West Coast,” you said, and the stress of his mind eased with the tone of your voice. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. The sky was lilac above the ocean. He wished you were here to see it. “Mind’s racin’, and such. Miss you.”

“Aw, miss you, too,” you replied. He could hear your smile. “How’s Sophia?”

Ashton nearly slammed on the brakes. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel to keep his knuckles from turning white. He wanted to say, “she’s not you”, but instead, he said, “she’s okay. A little sick.”

“Wasn’t she just sick?” you asked.

He bit his lip. “Dunno.” And he truly didn’t. He didn’t know much anymore. He felt like he was a floating entity. He felt like he was living someone else’s life. “I really do miss you, stinky.”

“Stinky?” You scoffed. “I’m not stinky. You’re stinky.”

“You can’t smell me through the phone, idiot,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

“Maybe I should just come visit and find out for myself.”

Ashton’s smile grew. “Maybe you should.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he said.

You huffed. “Fine.”

Ashton was grinning now, cheeks burning while he stared at the road ahead. He still loved you. He didn’t know if he would ever stop.

SEVEN: IT WOULD NEVER WORK

“Don’t fucking skip my favorite song, you asshole!”

Ashton’s stomach burned from laughter. He held his phone high, yet the roof of the car kept it within arm’s reach. Meanwhile, you were fighting for dominance as he kept one hand on the steering wheel. You huffed once you gave up, and you fell back into your seat.

“C’mon,” he said, poking your thigh to earn a response. You didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, I’m changing it. Here. You control the music now.”

That pleased you. You grinned, taking the phone from his hands while he let out a laugh. This was how the week had played out. Back and forth playful bickering until you pulled out your infamous pout, and he had to keep himself from falling harder and harder in love with you.

It was a dynamic he had missed over the past year. His friends noticed as well. His feelings hadn’t changed, yet he was happy. He could finally allow himself to be happy.

You set his phone down in a cupholder and took his hand in yours. Ashton couldn’t deny the shift in energy between the two of you, yet he refused to let it overwhelm him. He refused to let his hopes get the best of his behavior. Instead, he just smiled at you and returned his gaze to the road ahead.

“Have your hands always been this big?” you asked him, holding his hand up in front of your face to examine it.

He laughed. “Are you–– are you flirting with me?”

You set your hands back onto your lap. “Maybe,” you mumbled as you traced his knuckles.

Ashton continued to smile, and a fluttering stirred in his stomach.

“Is that okay?”

His laughter quickly faded, and he cleared his throat. “Y-yeah,” he said, gripping your hand a little tighter. He traced his thumb along your thigh. A comfortable silence settled in, one full of smiles and unspoken words that kept his mind racing.

The next morning, he helped you pack your things. The security line at the airport was short, and you were already running slightly behind schedule. Your plane would begin boarding within the next half hour. So, he kept his goodbye brief.

And then you kissed his cheek, and he wanted to pull you back in and hold you forever.

“I love you, Ashton,” you said with a smile. A warm smile that held meaning. You spoke words that he had heard before, but they felt different as they settled in his chest. You turned away before he could say anything else, and he spent the drive home with tears in his eyes.

Because he loved you, and you possibly loved him, too. But he could never have you the way he wanted. There were too many miles in between.

EIGHT: YOU’RE NOT READY FOR COMMITMENT–– RIGHT?

His feet ached. His knees did, too. Sweat coated his forehead, and he carried on up the steep trail.

Ashton had been thinking about you for weeks. He was caught up in your smile and the soft words you spoke. He climbed mountains to get you out of his head. His muscles burned while his brain ached with the idea of you.

You left him with a thousand questions. Did you feel the same way? Did he still feel the same way? Is this what he wants? Does he want commitment?

Ashton was caught up in scenarios left and right. He was stuck on a house in the hills, or maybe a small town on the eastern seaboard with a mile to the ocean. He felt the waves on his shins, and he felt your hand in his with a silver ring imprinting on his skin. He saw children, and he heard their giggles. He saw his life with you.

But, even after all of these thoughts, he wasn’t sure if it was what he wanted. He still didn’t know. The mountain had yet to clear his head.

He set his keys in the bowl beside his front door. The cold shower felt like an old friend, and a familiar song echoed in the tiled room. Your favorite song. Ashton smiled.

He still loved you, even if you didn’t love him. He still wanted you. He wanted you for the rest of his life.

NINE: IT MIGHT WORK

snail butt:

hey what’s the address for mikey’s party

oh also!! surprise!

i'm coming to mikey’s party

Ashton’s leg bounced as he awaited your arrival. He felt trapped in some small room at the back of a club while his friends chatted around him. Michael wore golden party decorations around his neck, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Meanwhile, Ashton couldn’t hold back his fucking nerves. He hadn’t told a soul that you were coming.

When you stepped in, the room was yours. Your name was sung in a booming chorus, bodies making their way toward yours for one big group hug, and you were smiling, too. Ashton stayed behind. He felt like he couldn’t move.

Your eyes met his only seconds later, your smile growing while you shot him a wink. Michael talked about something that reminded him of you, and you laughed along. Ashton’s heart swelled at the sight of you. He wished he could have it every single day.

The night carried on slowly, and the conversations between the two of you were cut short. But the shared glances flooded the atmosphere. There was something heavy behind them, like a beckoning almost, but he couldn’t force himself to move in your direction. He wanted to look at you from afar.

“Stranger danger,” you said after approaching him later on in the night. You folded your arms and smirked, and Ashton was suddenly aware of how tight your dress was on your figure.

“Me?” he asked, mirroring your grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m the least terrifying person you’ll ever meet.”

“Say that to the fifteen-year-old kid who dressed up as Freddie Krueger to scare the shit out of his innocent neighbor,” you replied. You took a few steps toward him.

“To be fair,” he began and placed his hands against the small of your back, “you’re just an easy scary.” His smile grew. “Hi, bug. Missed you.”

You fell into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders while your breaths quickly fell into a rhythm. “I missed you,” you mumbled against his jacket. You pulled away suddenly. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

You nodded. “Come along,” you said.

The two of you said a quick goodbye to Michael, wished him a happy birthday, and made your way out into the chilly night. You had yet to let go of Ashton’s hand, even as he drove down streets that he hardly recognized. The address you gave him was one he had never seen before.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to an apartment complex fifteen or so miles away from his place.

“You gonna murder me?” he asked you.

You shook your head and smiled. “Nope,” you said.

A billion questions ran through his head as you led him up a staircase. But he stayed quiet. Even when you pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a numbered door, he still kept his mouth shut.

A lamp in the corner of the room lit up the small space. Boxes were stacked upon other boxes, and it hardly looked lived in. Yet, that didn’t matter. Ashton had realized what was happening. He felt sick to his stomach.

“I was offered a job,” you said.

He stared at the mess of boxes and mismatched furniture. Even through the clutter, it was thoroughly you through-and-through.

“And I was tired of having to constantly come visit you,” you continued with a laugh. “I didn’t wanna tell you until it was set in stone. But, yeah, welcome to my new home.”

Ashton turned to face you. You appeared nervous as you awaited his response. You were waiting for him to tell you it was a stupid idea, that you should have thought about this before packing up your life and moving to Los Angeles. But he wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

TEN: THE FEAR OF FALLING OUT OF LOVE

He could hear the screams from backstage. A venue full of thousands of fans, all waiting to hear him and his band. He wished he hadn’t become numb to the feeling. It was his job–– it was normal. And the music he created no longer held the same meaning.

But he heard the songs differently now. He played with more passion, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his drumkit became a solace. Venues were his sanctuaries. Every night was filled with a new sensation he desired–– no, he craved.

His friends took notice. They fed off of his energy, and he wasn’t sure they had ever played this well before. It was something he wished he could share with you.

Ashton didn’t like remembering the thin line the two of you had drawn out. It was unexplainable, something unnamed that he was desperate to make sense of. Conversations were full of old jokes and stupid pictures he always saved into his camera roll. However, he never bothered to ask you how you felt. He never pressed about the one thing that stuck itself to his mind for well over a year.

He wanted to tell someone about how scared he was. Past relationships failed on his part–– he would flee instead of looking for reasons to stay. He chose to leave because he never saw things escalating further. Ashton had gotten used to the escape.

He felt different. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he needed. Yet, the lack of reluctance created an unwanted fear. Ashton was afraid that, if you ever opened up to loving him back, then maybe he would stop loving you in return.

This fear showed itself in his performance. It fueled an anger that terrified him. But the shows were fucking phenomenal, he told himself. His hands bled after every night. And he still called you every night.

He was afraid of losing feelings. He was afraid of losing you. The idea of loving you was more beautiful than he could imagine–– the idea of you filled his heart with so much joy. That was where Ashton’s love for you differed from past relationships. He was used to falling in love with ideas, but this time, he fell in love with the honest you. He loved every little thing about you.

“Hi, bug.”

“Hey, how was the show?”

Ashton pushed sweaty strands of hair out of his face. His heart was pounding through his skin, fingers sore and shaky from an incredible set. His lips were numb. “Hi, um, it was–– yeah, it was good.”

“You sound out of breath.”

He inhaled as best as he could. “Sorry, yeah. I am.” Anxiety crawled up his forearms and into his chest.

“You okay?” you asked him.

He swallowed. He wasn’t okay, but it didn’t matter. “Yeah. I’m good. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine,” you said. “Didn’t do much. Watered your plants, ate your food, had a good nap on your couch, and then I––”

“I’m in love with you.”

You were silent.

Ashton’s throat burned. Everything was numb. His entire body had fallen numb. He wanted to end the call and never come home.

“You are?” you whispered a moment later.

His heart ached. “Yeah,” he said.

“Please come home soon.”

Ashton tried to laugh through the nerves building. “Can’t do that, bug. I got like forty shows left.”

“Poopy.”

This time, he could laugh. Maybe he had been nervous for nothing. Nevertheless, he now believed that he had nothing to fear.

ELEVEN: THEY MIGHT LOVE YOU BACK

The door to his home creaked as he stepped inside. A thick black night greeted him, not a single light to be seen as the white noise settled. He held his breath while he set his belongings beside the couch. It always felt like this when he came home. He was always welcomed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He would shower and crawl into bed, and he would spend the entire night in a restless state.

Ashton hadn’t expected to see you curled up in his sheets. That was where the night different from the many others. He hadn’t expected his heart to fill with such warmth at the mere sight of you. Two in the morning had never felt so good.

You held his pillow tight, and he wondered if it smelled like him. He wondered if you had spent the past few months here, and he wondered if it felt like home to you. Because you looked like home to him. It was like you were meant to be there, all curled up in his bedsheets with his shirt on your back.

Ashton knelt beside you, a smile etched on his features as he ran his fingers through your hair. He had never felt this much love before.

“Hey, bug,” he whispered, grazing his thumb against your cheek while your eyes fluttered.

You stirred beneath him and hummed.

“’m gonna shower, then I’m gonna hug you after,” he said. “Okay?”

You nodded, but a moment later, your eyes snapped open. “Ash!” you yelped. You tossed your arms around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him. “You’re fucking home.”

He chuckled, yet he didn’t reply. He held you tighter and took in your warmth. He took in your scent and the weight of your breaths. He wanted to hold you forever.

You were the first to pull away, a smile never fading as you rested your forehead against his. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, and your fingers twisted in his hair; it was a feeling he’d never let himself forget.

“You forgot to text me when you landed, asshole,” you mumbled.

He laughed again, raising his hand to cup your cheek before kissing you softly. And, like always, you kissed him back. Ashton had loved you for over a year, and perhaps, you loved him in return.

568 notes · View notes

serendipityunho · 5 years

Text

Lemonade?

× genre: smut × pairing: neighbour!Jongho x Reader (fem.) × word count: 3.6k × warnings: explicit language, oral, fingering, handjob, clit play, breast play, unprotected, explicit sex

× synopsis: At first he was just your neighbour, who was also conveniently, one of your brother’s best friend. That was until you offered him a refreshing glass of lemonade that had you bent over your new kitchen counter with your panties ripped to the floor.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Just place it in my room!” Your brother carries the large box slowly up the stairs, grunting as the weight makes him work.

“Damn, sis, this place is massive!” You hear your brother’s shout from the bedroom, soon the sound of his footsteps travel down the stairs, meeting you in the kitchen.

“You see, I can save money and you can’t” You place the last of set of dishes in the cabinet, grunting as you stand on your tippy-toes.

“Fair enough. By the way, I can’t stay for long” Your brother scratches the back of his head, reaching for his phone as you turn around to face him.

“Where are you going?” He tapped away on his phone before turning his attention back to you.

“I gotta fill in for a co-worker at the store. It would only be a few hours anyway so I’ll be back” A few hours of hard labor up and down five flights of stairs wouldn’t be that bad.

“I’ll probably be dead asleep by the time you’re back” You lean forward against the counter, reaching for the glass of water before resting on the kitchen stool.

“Actually, a friend of mine lives in the building next door. I reckon he could help while I’m gone” Your head snaps up at your brother’s proposal.

“Really?”

“He’s been stuck in his little mancave the entire break. May as well give him something to do”

“Have I met him before?” You’ve met a handful of his friends before, carrying his drunk ass home in the middle of the night.

“Jongho? I don’t think so, he doesn’t do parties” Your brother chuckles, pushing himself off the stool as he makes his way to the door.

“I mean, I don’t want to bother him or anything. I can just carry them myself” There were quite a few boxes left to bring up, mostly heavy stuff that would take you longer without the presence of your brother’s strength.

“Well, too bad he’s already here”

“What? How-” Your brother lifts his phone, shaking it as he twists the knob.

Behind the door stood a built figure, dressed in nothing but a simple hoodie and a pair of washed jeans as he showed no sense of emotion on his rounded face.

“Jongho! My man, this is my sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Jongho, my best buddy” Your brother greeted him through the door, brushing aside to let him enter.

“Y/N”

“Jongho” His hands were rough but soft, most definitely warm too.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you guys in a few. Bye!” Your brother snatches his jumper off the couch, dashing through the door as he leaves you standing with the newly found friend.

The two of you stood in a near uncomfortable silence before clearing your throat, making Jongho break his attention away from the door.

“There’s some heavy boxes waiting in the lobby, two-man job” Jongho nods in agreement without uttering a word as he exits the door for you to follow behind.

The endless trotter down the spiral stairs seemed endless before you had reached the ground floor. Jongho pressed the door with his palm, pushing it open for the two of you to exit before following closely behind you to the boxes sitting in front of the elevator.

“So how come you didn’t hire anyone to help you move?” Jongho asks, eyeing the horrendous stack of cardboard boxes in front of him.

“Why waste money when I can do it- umph myself?” You grunt as the weight of the box takes a strain on your muscles.

“Oh so you can do it yourself now, can you?” Jongho flashes a small smile, showing off his gums as he watches you struggle with the large box that was literally the size of your upper body.

“Here, let me. You take the smaller ones” Jongho takes the heavy box out of your hands, carrying it in front of him like it weighed nothing as you were left with the smaller ones.

It was practically your cardio of the day, trotting up and down the square spiral of stairs with your muscles growing even sorer with each strain the boxes had taken on you.

Your hair was scrunched up in a poor ponytail, sweat cloaking the nape of your neck as you pile the last box inside your new apartment.

Jongho sat on the other end of the couch, eyes shut as his head laid back against the couch. Sweat beaded his round face, hair slicked back to let the cool air of the room hit his exposed burning forehead.

You gulp down the hard lump in your throat as your eyes trail down to his Adam's apple where the bead of sweat slowly trickled down, under the collar of his shirt. His chest rose with every breath of air, shirt slightly sinking into the crevasses of his body.

Jongho’s eyes flutter open, meeting your slothful eyes as your vision trails from his thighs back to his face. Heat flushes to your face, cherry bubbling to your cheeks as you break your gaze from Jongho’s droopy eyes.

You could feel holes burning into the side of your head as you sit up from the couch, patting yourself down before turning your gaze back to a smirking Jongho.

“Are you thirsty? I bought l-lemonade before you came” Your voice stutters as Jongho watched you trot backwards to the kitchen.

“Thirsty? Yeah” Jongho replies, tilting his head to the side as you feel his gaze right on your back, watching your every move.

You shakingly bring down two glass cups from the cupboard with a clink as they sit on the kitchen island.

The skin of your palm stings slightly as you grip the icy cold carton of lemonade. Your body felt hotter with each second passing as your stomach bubbles with a hazy fuzz, making your lower body feeling quite numb, sensitive.

You turn around holding the glass cup in your hand ready to pass to Jongho, who conveniently was already out of his seat, surprisingly close for you to merely stretch your arm out to him.

“Thanks” Jongho’s deep honey-like voice sent your heart skipping in a frenzy as he brushes his fingers against yours on the glass.

“Uh yeah, you’re welcome” Your breath hitched at the back of your throat as you hold your own glass, subtly watching Jongho gulp down his lemonade while sipping on your own, unable to take your eyes off of his neck and chest.

God, how can someone make drinking lemonade this attractive? You thought to yourself. Jongho lowers his glass to what seemed like ages, licking his plump lips of the sweet goodness before placing the glass back down on the counter behind you.

“Can I use the bathroom?” He asks, tilting his head. It was really driving you insane, the way his eyes droop even more and the corner of his lips twitching into a small smirk. The fuzz in the pit of our stomach made your body grow even more sensitive.

“To the left- down there” Your finger points behind him. Jongho looks in the direction, quickly thanking you before taking his leave, running his hand through his sweat beaded hair before scratching the back of his head. Your eyes glue on his forearm as each finger movement flexed his muscles even more.

“Oh fuck...” You whisper to yourself, jaw slightly hanging as you realize what you’d gotten yourself into. Or what your brother has gotten you into.

You snap yourself back into reality before your mind starts playing absurd scenarios into your head. Your eyes scan the surroundings for your phone, which was laying on the coffee table. You click on the contact, typing away to your best friend.

Y/N: So one of my brother’s friends is helping me move in today.

Y/F/N: Oooooh is he hot???

Y/N: ... Yes.

Y/F/N: And is that a problem?

Y/N: Idk should it? I’m honestly going crazy.

Y/F/N: 👀

Y/N: What’s that supposed to mean?

Y/F/N: Enough has been said, my friend :)

Y/N: No... I’m not going to fuck a someone I just met

Y/F/N: I never said you were going to in the first place... but by all means, go-ahead ;)

Your head snaps back to the sound of the door closing shut, Jongho appears around the corner, face slightly damp to what seemed like he had washed his face.

“Oh, uh, thanks for helping me today” You place your phone back onto the coffee table before walking up to Jongho who was seated on the stool.

“No worries, Y/N” The way your name drips from his lips was enough to send you to the ungodly place in your mind you had tried to avoid when he sat on your couch.

You awkwardly maneuver your way onto the stool beside him, propping your elbows up as you take another sip of your remaining lemonade.

“You probably want me to leave but I really don’t want to have to face those stairs again” Jongho speaks up, making you straighten your back as you twist your body around. But what you didn’t notice was his body was twisted around too, making you brush your legs against his.

“Oh no, stay, take a rest” You built the courage to look at him in the eye, it was your greatest achievement to not break away after five seconds, his dark pupils entrancing you from reality.

Jongho props his elbow onto the counter, leaning forward as he rests the side of his head on his palm, gaze never breaking from yours.

Your thighs rub together subtly as Jongho trails his eyes from yours down to your lips before making their way back up to your eyes.

“You’re really pretty, you know that” You didn’t know whether to let your heart beat out of your chest or unclench the gushing wetness in your pants.

“You’re pretty too- I mean hot- handsome- fuck” Jongho chuckles at your choice of words.

His face was right there, all you wanted to do was just shove your tongue down his throat and hear his deep moans. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

“Yeah?” Jongho’s eyes droop with a smirk crawling up on to his lips as he shuffles his body closer to yours, knee pushing between your legs.

“...Yeah” It was decided, you could feel the wetness pooling around your needy pussy as Jongho’s face inched closer to yours.

“I wish I had met you sooner if I knew you looked like this” Jongho’s knee slowly pushes your legs further apart, making you shuffle closer to him, letting your hot core inch closer to his knee, yearning for some sort of friction.

“What are you doing to me, Jongho?” Your voice became quiet as Jongho’s face was right in front of yours, so close that you could feel his hot breath that had undoubtedly made its way into your ungodly imagination.

“I don’t know, you tell me”

You didn’t waste your time, smashing your lips against his as your hands make their way around his neck, pushing him closer to you as your fingers tangle in his hair.

Jongho’s hand immediately make their way on to your waist, pulling you up from your seat and onto the counter with half of your ass properly seated on the cold marble with his lips molding with yours, wrestling your tongue with his hungrily as if he waited his whole life for this.

Jongho presses his body against yours, thigh rubbing against your throbbing clit as your knee brushes against his clothed boner.

You grind your hips against Jongho’s thigh, feeling a smirk in between your heated makeout.

“Fuck, so needy” Jongho breaks from the kiss, letting his hand cup your clothed pussy before slowly teasing it with his fingers, playing with the opening of your shorts before actually sliding his hand through the waistband of your shorts.

“Jongho, please...” Your legs unwrap from Jongho’s hips as he slides off your shorts, dropping them to the ground as he stretches the band of your panties before letting them slap back at your skin.

Jongho slips his fingers through your soaked panties, smirking as he dips his fingers into the pool of your wetness before covering your clit with your juices, rubbing your clit fast as he dips his lips back on to yours.

You slip out a moan as Jongho applies more pressure against your clit, stimulating you greatly as the fuzz in your stomach turns into a knot.

Your knee finds its way back against Jongho’s crotch, spontaneously rubbing his dick. Jongho lets his other hand place flat against your back as he pushes you down, letting your back rest against the cold counter before removing his arm from under you.

Breaking away from the kiss, Jongho removes his fingers from your clit, using both his hands to rip your panties, exposing your aching pussy to the cold air as you gush over the way his arm flexed, showing off every muscle his body holds.

“So fucken wet, Jesus” Jongho takes your legs, propping them on his shoulders, lowering himself down as his arms hook under your thighs, face insanely close to your pussy.

Jongho blows hot air on you before letting his tongue flatten against your needy pussy, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as your hands find their way back through his thick hair.

“Fuckkk” Your back arches off the cold counter as Jongho flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud.

Jongho attaches his lips to your pussy, letting his tongue slide into your hole as he roughly slides his tongue up and down your slit.

Your body jerks forward, slamming your palm against the edge of the counter as you feel Jongho insert a finger, pumping it in and out of you as he twists it in your hole.

Jongho’s lips attach on to your clit, licking it before sucking on it, swaying his face side to side as your legs twitch from the warm friction on your nerves.

Jongho turns his gaze back up to you, watching you with hooded eyes as your body twitches from his touch, head rolling back as your knuckles turn white from gripping the edge of the counter.

“Nnnnngh- fuck! Jongho!” Your face scrunches up with pleasure as Jongho brings you closer to an orgasm.

“I want to feel your tight pussy around me, fuck” Jongho removes his lips before pushing your body back on to the counter as he slides off his shirt, throwing it to where you shorts lay.

Your walls clench around nothing as your eyes fix on Jongho’s uncovered muscles. You pull him closer by the hem of his jeans, pressing his chest against your body as you fumble with the belt before slipping it off, leaving you to unzip his jeans to deal with his needy cock stored inside his boxers.

Jongho’s hand slip under your shirt, pulling it off to leave you in your bra unclasping it, letting it slide off your chest as his hand cup your breast, playing with your hardened nipple while you let his cock spring free from his boxers.

You huck up some saliva, letting it drip from your lips as it lands on the tip of Jongho’s cock, lubing it up for your hands to twist around his length as your other hand slides up and down his arm, feeling every muscle he has.

“Fuuuck” You smirk at Jongho, who rested his forehead against yours before tilting to the side, brushing his nose against yours before biting down at your bottom lip, making you kiss him as he slips in his tongue, wrestling yours for dominance.

Your hand twists up and down his cock faster as your other hand digs into the flesh of his shoulder, gushing at how he flexes his muscles. Jongho kneads your breast, squeezing it before guiding his hand behind you again, pushing you closer to him, off the counter.

“Wait, I don’t have a co-” Jongho breaks from the kiss, staring down at you with concern before you push him back on to your lips.

“I’m on the pill” You say between the kiss.

Jongho’s cock rubs against your inner thigh, inching closer to your pussy as your body presses against his, feeling more of his muscles.

“Perfect” Jongho has a rough grip on your waist, spinning you around as you feel his cock press against your ass cheeks as he pushes you forward until your chest was pressed flat against the cold marble counter.

Jongho lets his cock slide up and down your slit, cloaking it in your wetness before sliding into your tight hole, making you swallow a sharp breath of air as his girthy cock stretches you out.

“Ohmygod- ngh Jongho” You could hear a quiet groan behind you as Jongho’s big hands caress your ass, spreading them apart as he watches the way his cock disappears into your tight hole.

“So tight- shit” Jongho’s hips start moving, thrusting in and out of you as you lay flat against the counter, arms stretched out in front of you, searching for leverage as his thrusts become faster.

You wince as his girthy length stretches you out like never before as it slowly turns the pain into complete pleasure.

Jongho has a tight grip on your waist, holding you in place over the counter, as he begins to pound into you, grunting through gritted teeth to suppress his quiet moans.

“God, you take me so good” Jongho sweeps his sweaty hair back before cupping your inner thigh with his hand, lifting your leg and propping it on the counter.

You wince as the sudden stretch in your leg takes your course of pleasure to another angle, letting Jongho’s cock hit all the right spots in you to make you go crazy.

“Oh my godddd- Jongho” Your arms retract against your chest as your knee bends against the counter, making you rest it on the stool beside you as Jongho supports your leg up.

The new position stretches you out even more, letting Jongho’s cock gush at your insides as your hips spaz under his grip from the spark of fuzzy pleasure shooting from the pit of your stomach to the rest of your body.

Your ass stings as Jongho’s hip snap harder, making his skin slap yours, fucking you further against the counter as the edge bruises the front of your thigh.

Jongho moves his hand from underneath your thigh to in between your legs, fingers finding their way back on to your clit, rubbing you fast with the pace of his thrusts.

“Fuckfuckfuck Jongho- Oh my goddd” Your hand grabs Jongho’s forearm, feeling every flex of his muscles in his arm as he rubs your throbbing clit with an ear-ripping orgasm penting up in the pit of your stomach.

“Nearly there, baby, n-nearly therennnnggghhfuckkk-” Jongho grunts, panting evidently than before as his grip on your waist tightens whilst his fingers rub you faster, bring you to the brink of an orgasm.

“Nghhhhhuhhh- I- FUCK!” Your legs quiver, on the brink of collapse with your forehead resting on your arm against the counter with the other arm brought up to muffle your loud shaky moan as a body-jerking orgasm rips through from the pit of your stomach.

Your pussy gushes around Jongho’s cock with your release as his thrusts become sloppier, lowering his body to hook his thrusts into you, sending your eyes rolling back.

“Fuckkkkk- shiittt” Jongho releases a shaky groan from the back of his throat as you feel his warm spurt of cum shoot into your stretched hole, making the both of you gasp for deprived breath.

Jongho leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he lowers your leg from the stool, letting you quiver underneath him before planting sloppy kisses on your shoulder blade.

You turn your head to the side to meet with a pair of softened brown eyes, you could feel Jongho panting against your back as his cock remained buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, it’s hot in here don’t you think?” Jongho slips his cock out from your pussy, drenched in the mixture of your releases before unsticking you from the counter.

“The air conditioner is on” You chuckle, slightly stuttering your steps as you bring yourself to walk again.

“Right. Fuck, how do you feel?” Jongho snaps back to reality, forgetting that he had just ripped off your favorite pair of panties and fucked you senseless in your new kitchen.

“Great, actually. Despite having you rip my favorite panties” You bend down, picking up the panties that were once in one piece that’s now been ripped to two.

“Boo hoo, it’s not like you can’t go out to buy more” Jongho chuckles, bending down beside you, picking up the pile of shriveled clothes.

“Eh, you’re right. But now I actually have to go into my suitcase to find another pair” You slip your creased shirt back over your head, patting it down of all the specs on the kitchen tiles before dipping around the corner with Jongho following you closely behind.

“You didn’t tell me you already had your bed set up, would’ve saved me some energy” Jongho pulls his boxers over his crotch with his clothes in the other hand as he scans your new room.

“Fucking on the bed is boring” You pull out a fresh pair of panties, slipping them on before plopping on the bed with Jongho contemplating whether he should join you or stand there.

You pat the empty space beside you as you move to let him lay beside you, dipping your legs underneath the blanket.

“So do you bang all of your brother’s friends or just people you barely know?”

“Do you call all of your friend’s sisters pretty or just people you barely know?”

A satisfied grin paints across your face as a shade of red flushes in Jongho’s cheeks.

“No, just you”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #choi jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #fanfiction #jongho smut #jongho:smut #smut

1K notes · View notes

piss-hands-blog · 5 years

Note

heyheyHEY u got that tasty,,, SHIGADABI PLANE OMO YOU PROMISED US-- Okay real talk tho. I love your work so much.? Like sure your fics are short but!! Thats fine bc i love them anyway. Please take my uwus

Aaaah thank chu anon

Here it is!

((Shigadabi omo! Pining and getting together, as well as the classic omorashi.

Omorashi = pants wetting, don’t like? Don’t read.

Fic is below the cut~

Please give constructive criticism! Thank you!))

“Are you all ready to leave?” Kurogiri calls out, waiting at the front door with all of the League’s luggage. All For One, being the odd person he is, had sent the five top members of the League Of Villains - Dabi, Shigaraki, Kurogiri, Toga And Twice - on a vacation for a bonding exercise. None of them had ever been overseas before, being in an illegal organisation and all, so they were looking forward to it. The only thing they weren’t looking forward to was the aeroplane ride there, which would take 8 and a half hours in total. Being stuck in a flying tube of metal all day wasn’t exactly anybody’s idea of fun, after all.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get outta here,” Dabi grumbles, followed by a cheery shout of “We’re coming, Giri!” From Toga. Shigaraki waits beside Kurogiri, tapping his foot anxiously.

“C’mon, you idiots, we’re gonna miss our flight,” Shigaraki groans.

“Calm your tits, Shiggy. They’re coming.” Dabi laughs, patting Shigaraki on the back. He smirks as the blue haired man glares at him, but looks away quickly when their eyes connect.

Suddenly, Twice comes tumbling down the stairs, screaming.“Yes! We are on our way! Also!” His voice switches. “We won’t be out the door in the next five minutes. Oh, and we’ll totally miss our flight.” Twice stands up and skips out the door, with the rest of the league closely following, Kurogiri carrying their luggage.

The car ride was short, and with minimal banter, as was booking in and entering the plane. Now for the hard part - 8 or so hours of hell.

As Dabi boarded the plane and found his seat with the rest of the LoV, he felt a twinge in his abdomen, which had been reoccurring since they’d left the house an hour ago. He debated going to the bathroom, but ultimately, he decided he could hold it. He took his seat next to a nervous Shigaraki, not bothering with his seatbelt just yet. It was 30 seconds before the League were all seated, and the speakers were blaring with the sound of an old man’s raspy voice.

“This is your pilot speaking. Welcome, passengers, to our flight from Japan to Hawaii! Before we take off, we have a small announcement. It is a rarely windy day today, and as a consequence of such we may have more turbulence with us. This should not be an issue - though, passengers will need to stay seated unless absolutely necessary.” There is a soft murmur that ripples throughout the plane, and Dabi sighs worriedly. This was going to be a long flight. There is a small chime from the speakers, and the seatbelt lights flicker on. Dabi rolls his eyes and fastened his seatbelt, hoping the take off doesn’t take too long.

Luckily, with only a few bumps and mildly alarming sounds, they were in the air. The seatbelt light flickers off, and Dabi almost got up to go to the bathroom, before whipping his head around to look, and seeing the long line. He undid his seatbelt and pulled out his phone, waiting for the line to shrink.

“Oi, Dabi.” Shigaraki pokes Dabi’s shoulder. Dabi glares at him,

“What do you want, crusty?” Shigaraki puts a hand on his heart at this comment.

“You know what, raisin? I’m not gonna tell you now.” Shigaraki sits back in his seat, a slight blush on his cheeks. Dabi flips him off, pretending not to notice, and goes back to his phone. He barely manages to unlock it before a chime sounds for passengers to sit down and put seatbelts on.

“What? Aww, Giri, I don’t wanna put my seatbelt back on already, it’s too tight…” Toga grumbles. Kurogiri, who never undid his belt, just shrugs. Toga whines, ands straps herself in.

“They did say there’d be a bit of turbulence.” A passenger nearby mutters.

“I’m fine with putting the seatbelt back on!” Twice chimes, doing his belt up. “Why?” His voice changes once more. “Because I’d never obey the laws of safety.”

Shigaraki, who was struggling with his seatbelt, groans in frustration. Dabi reaches over to help him wordlessly, not making eye contact. He could feel Shigaraki’s curious gaze on his, but said nothing as he sat back in his seat. He just managed to get his own on in time before the plane started rocking and tilting.

Toga yelps out in terror, clinging onto Kurogiri’s arm. Kurogiri seems unbothered by both the turbulence and Toga. Twice is tapping his finger on his thigh anxiously, not saying anything. Shigaraki is scratching his neck furiously, muttering under his breath. Dabi is unbothered by the turbulence. He has other issues, like the fact that the rocking is making the liquid in his bladder slosh uncomfortably, worsening his need. He clenches his legs, waiting for the turbulence to go away so he can use the bathroom.

The turbulence calms, and the plane goes quiet…

…before it comes back full force.

Toga’s nails are digging into Kurogiri’s arm, as Twice continues to tap nervously. Shigaraki’s scratching becomes more harsh, and god, Dabi can see flakes of skin coming off his pale, blue skin. Crusty, he thought to himself, crossing his legs tighter.

The turbulence is finally gone after 20 minutes or crying from Toga, muttering and scratching from Shigaraki, and Dabi crossing his legs, becoming increasingly desperate. The seatbelt lights flicker back off, and Dabi sighs with relief. He unbuckles his seatbelt and prepares to stand up and go to the bathroom, but Shigaraki stands up first and beats him to it. Before he can even get out of the seat, Shigaraki is entering the bathroom. Dabi groans and sits down, trying not to make his ever-increasing need obvious. He glances continuously at the bathroom door, waiting for Shigaraki to leave. He decides to pull out his phone to distract himself, scrolling through the latest memes.

After 5 minutes, Shigaraki finally comes back, looking rather smug. Dabi looks at him, raises an eyebrow, and then looks at the door. Actually, he doesn’t look at the door. He looks at the back of a huge line, waiting for the bathroom. Just his luck. Dabi glares at Shigaraki for a moment, and Shigaraki sticks out his tongue at him.

“Crusty bitch,” he spits at him.

“You just wish you’d gotten up first.” Shigaraki pokes his shoulder as he speaks. Dabi goes a little red at the poke, and brushes the pale hand away. Suddenly, with the shit eating grin on Shigaraki’s face, Dabi is hit with a realisation.

“You motherfucker.”

“Yep! And now you’ll have to wait for the line to clear up, what a shame.”

“I’ll fucking piss on you, asshole.”

“Kurogiri, Dabi’s threatening me!”

Kurogiri, along with Toga and Twice, is asleep, so they squabble back and forth for a few minutes. After a while, Dabi puts on his headphones to block out Shigaraki’s shitty insults. That doesn’t stop Shigaraki, however. He creeps up to Dabi’s ear, and whispers.

“Raisin.”“Fuck off.” Dabi goes red at the feeling of Shigaraki’s breath on his ear, and turns up his music.

“Hey raisin.” He speaks louder.

“What?”

“Psssssh.”

Water sounds, classic. Dabi crosses his legs tighter. “Fuck off, Shiggy, I’m serious.”

“Aww, but just imagine how good it would feel, Dabi, to finally let go of all that sloshing piss inside you!” He chuckles. Dabi groans at the thought. He continues making water sounds in Dabi’s ear, and Dabi’s not sure how much longer he can take it. He clenches his thighs and tries not to make an audible sound. Shigaraki’s water sounds are relentless, driving Dabi crazy with every passing second.

His bladder gives a particularly strong spasm, and he lifts up his hand involuntarily. He stops his arm just before it goes to his crotch, but it’s too late. Shigaraki has noticed, and has his mind set on one goal.

“Ooh, you must need it bad, Dabi. Are you sure you don’t want to just let it go here? The seats can be cleaned, after all~ and it’d feel so good, being free of your full bladder! Just imagine that golden stream of piss, flowing down your legs, hitting the floor with a soft pitter-patter.”

Dabi groans again, shifting and squeezing his legs together tight.

“Shiggy, please stop, I’m seriously at my limit.” He goes red with humiliation.

“Please?” Shigaraki chuckles. “Who are you want what did you do with Dabi?”

Dabi taps his feet, squirming again. “Shut the fuck up, Shiggy.”

“Pssssssssssh.”Dabi groans.

“Fucking bastard.” He can’t help it this time - He grabs his crotch, hoping to stem the flow that’s begging to come out of him. Laughing, Shigaraki continues his water sounds. Dabi grabs himself tighter, and his eyes widen as he feels a soft leak.

“Shit shit shit, no, not yet-“ he shoves his second hand on top of the first, grabbing himself desperately. “Fuck, I’m not fucking peeing here, no-“ but it’s too late. Shigaraki’s water sounds have stopped, and the grin on his face fades as a soft dribble sound is heard, piss begining to patter onto the floor. Dabi hides his face in his hands, essentially giving up.

There is silence for a few seconds, where Shigaraki is stunned. He decides to speak up.

“Sh-shit, Dabi, are you-“ But Shigaraki is cut off with a loud shout from Dabi.

“FUCK OFF, BASTARD. YOU DID THIS.” He sobs as he floods his seat, his piss dribbling onto the floor. Dabi sobs in embarrassment, trying to stifle his groans of relief because god, this feels so fucking good. He sobs into his hands, hiding his face.

“I- fuck, I didn’t think- I’m sorry, Dabi, I didn’t mean to make you-“ Shigaraki stumbles over his words, but Dabi is ignoring him. His stream comes to a stop, Dabi still sobbing.

“Yeah, well look at what you fucking did. Just- just fuck off.”Shigaraki sighs. He looks at Dabi with an expression of sadness and guilt. He puts a soft hand on his shoulder, careful to keep one finger away.

“Dabi, I’m sorry. I was just having a little fun, I didn’t honestly think you’d…“ he stops for a moment. "I’ll help you clean up, and we’ll never talk about this again. okay?”

Dabi sniffles, but brings his red face out of his hands. He looks down at his mess, and wipes his face of tears.

“Y-Yeah… I- I’m sorry for yelling at ya, Shiggy.“ Dabi offers him a weak smile, which Shigaraki returns goofily.

“Hey, it’s no problem. We’ll wait for the line to clear up and you can go change. Oh, take this.” He takes his jacket off and hands it to Dabi. “Wrap it around your waist, so people won’t see it. I can wash it.” He pats Dabi on the back, his thumb crossed behind his index finger. Dabi takes it greatfully, and notices a pink flush dusting Shigaraki’s cheeks. His bright blue eyes connect with Shigaraki’s crimson ones, and they lock eyes, frozen in time. Dabi grabs Shigaraki’s hand without thinking, and Shigaraki smiles and squeezes the hand back, still careful of his thumb.

“Tomura, I…” He starts, but Shigaraki cuts him off by leaning in and smashing their lips together. Dabi goes red, but he kisses Shigaraki back with desire. As the pair melt into the kiss, the years of pining becomes clear to the both of them, and they break apart panting.

“I love you, Dabi… even if you did piss yourself.“ Dabi can’t help but chuckle.

“I love you too, Tomura.”

There is silence for a moment, until…

“Fucking FINALLY! Twice, Giri, you guys owe me 20 bucks!”

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sweetcatmintea · 5 years

Text

Bitter Chocolate and Night Rain

@inkovert (implicitly) requested a fluff drabble between Whitney and Marcos. I went with a scene that actually comes from the story (I figured it’d be good practice for when it comes up). It ended up kinda,,, angsty <.<;;;; But I’m pretty proud of it and hope you enjoy this scene from A Hare’s Worth. Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Words: 2644 Characters: Marcos, Whitney, Freddy (mentioned), and Mella

The day was long, but eventually, the chittering of the café grew quiet as the patrons shuffled back along their journey, continuing their lives. In one smooth movement, Whitney switched from waving farewell to the final customer to flipping the welcome sign and locking the door to the 6pm Café. Marcos cleared tables as Whitney swept tiles. It was days like these that made her grateful for the evening still. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had they more help, but with Freddy visiting home and their aunt and uncle surveying a new supplier, the pair had been run off their paws. Marcos ambled towards the kitchen, carefully balancing a stack of plates and mugs, backing through the swinging door. He wasn’t as bothered by the busyness as Whitney, sometimes it was good not to have too much time to think. Not that she was bothered per se, but she would have preferred more time to keep things organised. Just a little would do.

Chocolate and pecans spiced the air, soon to be overtaken by soap and steam. Although the baker had left hours ago, their work lingered. It had been Freddy’s idea to do a promotion each fortnight. A new tea and an arrangement of desserts specifically made to compliment the brew. This time it was an exotic black tea and cocoa blend, resulting in numerous fruity and chocolatey treats for customers to choose from.

Whitney hummed in delight as they cleaned, Marcos washing up and her packaging left over food. “It’s been a good week, don’t you think? I reckon Uncle Antonio will be happy with the sales. The new blend really hit it off with the customers.” Speaking of which… Her palms thumped onto the counter, ears flicking back. “That one woman though. Did you see her? How many times do you have to tell someone you don’t sell burgers at a tea café?! Honestly!” Rant pausing long enough to swipe an errant strand of raw sugar hair out of her eyes, she continued, mimicking the interaction, “’I want beetroot burger.’ Who even eats beetroot? Do I say that? No, I say ‘Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t sell that here. Can I interest you in a toasted sandwich instead?’ ‘No, it has to be a burger. You sell food, why don’t you just make one?’ Oh, I forgot we apparently had a ~secret menu~. ‘We don’t have the ingredients for that.’” Taptaptaptap. Her foot thwapted the floor in irritation. “Then, then! She says ‘That’s fine, you can just go to the corner store and get some.’ Just go to the corner store and get some? Can you believe the that? The nerve! The entitlement! Ugh!” Letting out a huff, she shoved another cake slice into a box, perhaps more roughly than was necessary.

Marcos hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the sink. She’d expected him to at least chuckle at the dramatics, (even though she was genuinely annoyed at the woman). At least his advice was still characteristically his.

“People are strange. There’s nothing to be done for it now, why don’t you pick out which dessert you’re bringing back to take your mind off it?” A perk of closing duty – taking home unsellable but still edible foods.

“Hm, that’s true. They’ve been really nice this round. The dark chocolate tarts are as bitter as my soul. I love it.”

“There’s no accounting for taste I guess.” Marcos shrugged, a teasing lilt to his voice. That wasn’t the joke she thought he’d made. That was twice he’d curve-balled her. Usually he’d indulge her rants, laughing along as she spouted ridiculous scenarios she claimed she’d definitely do next the time. She thought for sure that he’d say some dumb thing along the lines of ‘you’re mixing up caramel with chocolate if you want it to match your soul, Cottontail’. Then she’d get mad at him for the silly nickname and they’d banter like usual. She didn’t let the concern reach her face.

Marcos drained the sink, readying to leave. “I liked the sweet chai from the last lot better.”

Whitney passed him the desserts she’d claimed, taking the remaining boxes herself. “Haha, we could tell. I didn’t think you’d really be able to eat all of the cinnamon buns you grabbed. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

Double checking the store was locked securely, they took the excess food around the back. Kids were already waiting. Some skinny and ratty, others better off but not by much. New laws had been passed preventing Whitney or Marcos from giving food, even that which would otherwise go to waste, to beggars – especially Tainted ones. Instead, they carefully discarded the boxed onto a table specifically for storing such waste, happened to mention aloud which ones had gluten and which had been in contact with nuts, then left. They certainly didn’t smile at a raccoon child who thanked them for their kindness before scampering off. They were good, law abiding teenagers after all.

Although it was still relatively early, the sky was already darkening. Heavy storm clouds loomed overhead. Wind rustled through the trees, green with new leaves, sending flower petals skipping along the street. Whitney huddled into her button-up sweater, pulling it tighter over her body.

“I hope the rain holds off a little longer. Might have to take Mella out for a jog instead of a walk.”

“Maybe you should skip today. You don’t want to get caught in a downpour. Who’ll run the shop if you get sick?” Marcos really was trying to match Whitney’s light-hearted energy, but he knew she was onto him. Having her worry about him (or him burden her) over a funk wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Can’t slack off. As Mella’s proper parent - we don’t count Freddy and you know it. He spoils her rotten - it is my responsibility to make sure she gets what she needs, and what she needs is a walk every day.” She bounced her shoulder against his side, lips quirked into a cheeky smile. “You could always come with us if you’re worried. I’ll even let you carry me home if I get splashed. Mella too, of course.”

He bounced her back, careful not to topple her over. “Maybe I will.”

“I wasn’t joking about jogging.”

“I know.”

She raised her brow incredulously. “You, jogging?”

“It does happen on occasion.”

If Mella, short for Caramel, had her way, her tardy care takers would have been barrelled over by her unrestrained joy the instant they crossed the threshold back into her territory. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for the weary pair, Whitney really was a good dog mum. Mella had been trained well. Nobody was trampled by an ecstatic rottweiler on that day. Minding her manners, but not curtailing her demands, Mella waited “patiently” at the door, tail thumping and lead in mouth.

True to her word, five minutes and Whitney had offloaded her things, swept her long hair into a pony tail and was out the door again. Mella trotted along, enthusiasm shedding years off her face. Marcos kept pace, quiet save the tapping of his claws against the ground. He’d never liked that feeling. His body was there but his mind was somewhere far away. A world Whitney wasn’t privy to. He’d still smile and nod when she pointed out the funny letter box on Birch Street – ironically a tree had fallen on it leaving it much more squat than it was prior – or when she’d make silly puns out of random objects they passed. She’d have been happier if he meant it.

The sky grumbled, bemoaning its load. The complaints continued as they moved, increasing in urgency until the clouds could hold off no longer. Hounded by sheets of rain pelting after them, they completed the walk in record time. They piled through the door, back to the safety of their home. Sopping wet, Whitney bolted for the towels. Too late. Mella shook, splattering the rustic, but cosy, wallpaper of the front hallway. Moisture seeped in, greeting the stains that had already made home there. She was never quick enough. Very pleased with herself, Mella ran head first into Whitney’s open arms, allowing her to dry Mella properly.

Unassuming hours ticked by. The roaring storm quieted its protests to a murmur of rain. Marcos melted into the armchair, tracing his finger over the vintage bee patterns on the fabric as he listened to the drops peppering the window. He wondered absently if the night creatures had tucked themselves away or if they braved the weather, wagering their lives for food. He wondered if the children waiting behind the café were snug in their beds. He hoped so. He hoped a lot of things. He once believed that was a bad habit. The world needed hope, even a tealight was valuable in the dark. As he blindly gazed out the window, watching the black being overtaken by white condensation forming on the glass, he took the moment to be present. To be aware of where he was – a comfortable home that always smelled of honey and flowers, feet aching and back creaking from a long day. With people he cared for and who cared for him in return. A deep breath to steady his heart, flightful and jittery as ever. The past was behind him. There was nothing he could do for it in this moment. The scars may twinge or open again in a year, a day, even an hour from now, but in this moment, they were okay. He was okay. Another deep breath. What was next? He didn’t know. That was frightening. He felt his hands grow clammy. That was okay. Sadness and pain would be there, that was certain, but they never last forever. One way or another, he would be happy again. He could not change that either. Right now, he was safe. One last deep breath. He opened his eyes, not really knowing when he had closed them.

Whitney lingered at the entrance of the lounge room. Two mugs in one hand, a plate in the other. He smelled the tart and tea before he saw them. The bitterest of chocolate and shy lavender.

“I thought you were going to bed?” His voice was sticky, as though he’d just awoken. How long had he been thinking?

She shrugged the non-liquid bearing shoulder. “I was but I figured you could use some company.” She made her way over to him, ignoring the rest of the furniture.

Marcos took the cups while she slid onto the seat, legs propped over the arm of the chair, bunny tail pressed against his thigh.

“You shouldn’t push yourself. I’ll be headin’ to bed soon.”

She snorted at that, rolling her rose eyes and taking the mug decorated with cute hearts and rabbit ears. “Yeah, and babies come from mail order catalogues. I just brought you some tea. It’s not going to kill me. In fact, it just so happens to be my day job.” She nodded to the tea. “It’s lavender and camomile. It’s supposed to be very calming.

The mug warming Marcos’ hands cheerfully decreed ‘Who’s a sweet potato? I yam!’ He took a sip. She’d added honey and milk – just the way he liked it. “Does it work?”

“It tastes nice.”

“Fair enough.” Either way, he already felt better with her there. She leaned into his chest, taking a thoughtful bite out of her tart. The clink of the silver spoon against ceramic almost inaudible with the rain. For a while, little else filled the comfortable silence they had fallen into.

“Do you want to talk about it?” So Whitney had noticed his funk. Darn.

“About what?”

She pressed her hand into his. “You worry so much about everybody else, let me worry about you for a change.” He made a non-comital noise but didn’t move his hand. Taking it as an invitation to continue, she did. “His birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

He blinked, equal measures surprised and touched. “You remembered?” Her nod bloomed tenderness in his soul.

“He was important to you. Of course I remembered.”

Marcos shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. I’ll get back to normal soon. I just, I just need a little time.”

“It’s okay to not be okay, y’know. You don’t have to smile and joke all the time. You’re not, you’re not being a burden if you’re hurting.” She squeezed his hand. “I want to help. Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t, but…” Guilt flashed through him. “I think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you wanted to talk to me a while… If, uh, if you wanted to… if you’re not too tired that is…”

“’Course.” A gentle smile to tame the wildest of worries. “Did I ever tell you about the time I went to the beach when I was little and I convinced Freddy that the crabs would carry him out to sea if he fell asleep?”

“Not recently.”

“Okay, fantastic. Well, I think we were seven? Maybe eight? No, seven. And we’d been waiting all year to go…”

They stayed like that well into the night. Whitney recounted tale after tale of her childhood antics. The time the twins had accidentally locked themselves out of the café (with a customer still inside), the time Freddy smuggled Mella into class in his backpack, a disastrous episode with a fan, fresh paint, and carelessly placed glitter. It didn’t take the pain away, it sat a dull ache in his deepest self, but now, surrounded by the soft fluttering that somebody cares, it wasn’t so raw. The feeling settled over his body, dusting red where it pleased.

Whitney’s stories slowly came to a close as sleep over took her. She was almost finished the cupcake catastrophe that nearly got her banned from the kitchen when her words turned into mumbles, turned into quiet breath falls. Her hair had fallen in her face again, and Marcos’ arm, and shirt for that matter. Sitting as they were, together and peaceful, Marcos felt drawn to rest his head against hers. She still smelled like wet dog. Her strawberry shampoo could not overpower Mella. There was little in this world that could. He sighed. It was comfortable. He’d probably never be able to tell her properly how much her words meant to him. Somehow, he felt like apologising, saying he was sorry she ever had to treat him so kindly. It was a strange thing when your gratitude is so much it begs forgiveness. He’d probably never really try to express the pleasant emptiness she left him with. It was so like her though, to notice another person’s pain and busy herself about fixing it. There was something so special about her willingness to sit through it with him rather than force a laugh track to dampen the atmosphere. There was something so special about her. Though, that’s probably why he loved her. Wait, what did he just think? He – His ears stood to attention. He lo- The realisation hit him like a bus with no brakes. He loved her. A furious blush burnt up his neck to the tips of his ears. Oh Stars, he loved Whitney. What was he going to do? Did he tell her? Could she, could she maybe love hi- no that’s absurd. But it might not be. What if it was? Oh stars, what if it wasn’t? He glanced down at her, horrified to see the blush had reached his hands. At least she was still asleep. She hadn’t seen the mess that he was in the current business of becoming.

Too ensnared by the sudden Emotions, he totally missed the secret smile had crept onto Whitney’s lips. It’s about time you realised you silly hare <3

Tag list

@inkovert, @snobbysnekboi

#Writing #story #my story #fluff #drabble #writblr #A Hare's Worth #ask to tag #character mention #Marcos #Whitney #Freddy #Mella #kemonomimi #rabbit girl #hare boy #sunday storytime #animation #gif

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writers-leir · 6 years

Text

new years special!

happy new years everyone!!! i hope you all had/have a great night with family and friends! and everyone who is still celebrating, i hope you have fun but please stay safe!!!

here’s a new years special with hwang minhyun and cameos from some of the other wanna one members

so new years is like a huuuuge hype for everyone in the city you live in

every single year for as long as you could remember your family would attend this huge party at the city hall to countdown to new years

and you’re honestly just,,,,tired

you want to spend one new years somewhere quiet and away from the fancy champagne and overpriced dresses lined with gold

but unfortunately,,,,all your family and friends attend that party. without fail. every. single. year.

it’s become something where you just run on autopilot

and it’s not like you and your best friend haven’t tried leaving discreetly

but the hosts have paid for everything and by everything i mean they have security guards standing at every entrance possible

and even though the hosts change every year there’s honestly no difference between the parties

and even now that you’ve left the city to study in college,,,,,,your parents still book you a flight back every year for you to spend the last two weeks of december and the first week of january with them,,,,which obviously means going to the party

you have to admit though, last year’s party was not as bad as you’d expected. the son of the hosts, ong seungwoo, managed to make it somewhat fun when he dropped water balloons on everyone (some tried to get a refund on their ruined outfits but,,,,,on the invitation it did say ‘outfits will get wet’)

and it’s not that you’re expecting anything from this year’s party,,,,,,more rather that your best friend isn’t attending this year

you managed to convince your brother sungwoon to hang with you for a little bit (only because he honestly wanted to try and escape too)

and neither of you want to be disrespectful to the hosts by escaping but as mentioned above, you want to spend a quiet new years (even if it means being alone) and sungwoon wants to hang with his friends drinking cheap beer and playing video games

so here you two are, standing near the food table, pretending to socialize while looking out for a chance to explain

sungwoon gets a text and he’s like o h,,,,well that’s smart and you’re just like ???what happened

turns out sungwoon’s actually friends with the son of the hosts this year

anyways, sungwoon’s friend, guanlin, mentions that there are no guards on the roof

and at first you’re like ha sungwoon what do you mean the roof

sungwoon’s just like lmao i meant what i said that’s our only escape

like ??? okay if you say so

and then he’s like oh,,,,one of my friends wanted to come with lol and i said yes already

and you’re like akjshdgjkasdg all your friends can come if they wanted let’s just get out

you and sungwoon manage to sneak out of the hall and you’re both waiting for this mystery third person outside of the door to the roof cause somehow this kid got the keys to the roof

and when you see the person who turns the corner you’re like,,,,,what,,,,,????

cause is that really hwang minhyun from your calculus class swinging the keys he clearly stole from the reception desk?

and you’re kinda still in shock even after he stops in front of you and greets your brother

and when he greets you you’re like “how did you even manage to steal the keys?”

lmao turns out the receptionist was so enthralled with his beauty that she didn’t notice him reaching over the desk to take the keys (if that plan failed then he would have gotten jaehwan to serenade her but luckily he didn’t have to resort to that)

you three get onto the roof and you’re like sungwoon i am not jumping down from the roof and hope that all i get is a twisted ankle

sungwoon’s all like nononononooooo!!!! i have a much better plan

yeah no it wasn’t that great a plan

there was an old pipe that ran down the side of the building towards the back

(i think you can all see where i’m going with this)

his plan was to climb down the pipe

minhyun’s like that’s,,,,,,not a very good plan,,,,,are you sure the pipe will hold?

he confirms with a quick search online that the pipe has been out of service for the past three years,,,,meaning that it’s dry as a desert

and while that reassures you that you wouldn’t be damaging anything too badly it,,,,still holds some concern to you

but before you can even open your mouth to ask your brother about it he’s already,,,,,,started to scale down the building

and you’re like H A S U N G W O O N if you fall and break your neck i’m not visiting you in the hospital

minhyun being the gentleman he is,,,,,tells you to go first

and at first you’re like ???? no you go first wtf this is terrifying

but then he’s like nooo if you go last then i can’t watch you to make sure you’re not stepping on flat ground,,,,and besides if something happens your brother is on the ground to catch you

and you’re like,,,,,he’s,,,,,,really sweet wtf,,,,,,stop being so nice;;;;;;;;

and so with your brother directing you from the ground,,,,you start your descent

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely terrified to the bone

your arms are shaking so much that you fear you’re gonna fall but,,,,minhyun’s right behind you to comfort you

as soon as you both are on the ground safely sungwoon dashes off to find his friends which means,,,,,,you’re left alone with minhyun

and you’re not about to lie to yourself because,,,,,minhyun is an extremely attractive person,,,,and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find yourself staring at him often during lectures

and you’d always want to greet him but he felt,,,out of reach,,,,and now he’s actually standing beside you after you both scaled down a building,,and suddenly he feels within reach

and you’re so deep in thought you don’t realize minhyun’s grabbed your hand and he’s pulling you away from the building saying that “we’d better leave before someone realizes we’re gone!!!”

and suddenly you’re hyper aware of how close you two are and how your hand fits in his just right

and then when you look up at his face you notice how his eyes seem to shine with excitement and the corners of his mouth are turned upwards as he lets out a laugh at the fact that you both just escaped the biggest party of the year without getting caught or dying

when you two finally stop you realize he’s dragged you to one of the smaller parks, one that most people don’t even bother approaching because the only things in it is the large oak tree, and an old swing + slide set that’s begun to rust

when minhyun checks the time on his phone he starts to lowkey panic because,,,,,,,it’s already 11:40,,,,,

and you’re kind of,,,,disappointed? because like yeah you two have no reason to spend new years with each other but,,,,,at the same time the location and just the mood in general is,,,,perfect?

everything is serene and there’s no,,,,uptight people watching you with their hawk eyes

minhyun leads you to the swingset and tells you to wait while he gets something really quickly

so you sit down on the swing,,,,only to hear a crack and shoot out of your seat,,,instead you take a seat on the slide, leaning back to lie down and watch the stars

after 10 minutes minhyun comes back and he’s like i got us some snacks!!!!

and as the clock starts getting closer to 12:00 you notice minhyun’s getting fidgety and you’re like,,,,,i guess,,,,this probably isn’t how he wanted to spend his new years,,,,,

“hey,,,,i get that this isn’t how you wanted to spend your new years,,,and i’m sorry,,,,,”

but minhyun’s like nOnono that’s not it,,,,,and he turns to look at you,,,and time seems to stop

and then you’re both leaning in and it’s like fireworks are bursting

and when you pull away you see the fireworks in the sky and it’s like everything is,,,,,going to be perfectly fine

minhyun looks at you and he’s smiling and you’re like akjshgsajdhgasd stop being so attractive >:(

“happy new year,,,,i hope this isn’t the last new years we spend together?” and you’re like OF COURSE not

you end up both going back to the party because your mom noticed that your brother had disappeared and called him and he,,,,snitched on the two of you,,,,

when you pass the receptionist you notice her still,,,,staring at minhyun and you’re like nope no more this boy’s mine now so you pull him down by his tie and kiss him and he’s like askdjhgkasldf????????what?????????

and when you pull away you send the receptionist a smirk before tugging him back inside

bonus: when he finds out the reason, he makes fun of you for the next few weeks (even going as far as to tell your brother who laughs for approximately 10 minutes before turning serious and giving minhyun //that// talk)

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yoyoplisetsky · 7 years

Text

I’ve had a long past few weeks and been very busy, so technically this list is for like,,, 2 weeks, but I want to get back on track, so I’m pretending like it’s only for 1. Hopefully, starting next week, I’ll be able to read/write more frequently again. Hopefully? :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fics I liked “this week”. As always, please please send me suggestions if you have some ^^ Also this list is like 75% Nuri and Meg and I’m only half sorry for it. Also! This time I tried to link tumblrs as much as I could; pls tell me if you know a tumblr I didn’t link :)

What I Read This Week (7/2-7/9)

The Westchester Samba - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - Victor knew a lot of things about his fiancé. He knew that he loved dogs, especially poodles. He knew that he was allergic to dairy and had a special fondness for a Japanese dish called katsudon. He knew that he’d taken dance lessons when he was young, and that he’d thought of going pro before realizing that art theft was a lot more lucrative. He knew every mole, every scar, every stretch mark on his body, and had spent considerable time learning and worshipping each one. He knew his fears, and he knew his dreams. He did not, however, know his name. (My review: Probs my fave story in Meg’s thief au tbh)

patellofemoral pain syndrome (Ch. 1-2) - seventhstar - @pencilwalla - It’s just…does Viktor not get bored with doing it the same way every night? Doesn’t he want to spice things up? Is Yuuri being unreasonable? He’s pretty sure that if Viktor told him his performance in bed was unsatisfying his soul would flee his body for a more merciful plane of existence, but…Viktor is thicker-skinned than he is. And so here they are. Viktor’s bed is wide and soft, and Yuuri is lying there with wet hair and ratty boxers while Viktor absently trails kisses over his shoulder. It’s nice. It’s soft. It’s good. Viktor’s headboard is enormous and Yuuri keeps thinking about Viktor’s wrists bound to it, black rope over white skin. Fuck. He should say something. (My review: Nuri’s arthritis porn is A+++ everyone needs to read it okay?)

even sinners have hearts (Ch. 1-2) - seventhstar - @pencilwalla - Alexei Ivanov is watching Yuuri as he lifts the cup to his mouth. His lips part to drink; Yuuri has never wanted to be a mouthful of sake more. I have to kill him, Yuuri thinks, and he stands up and announces to the room the time and place of the tour he’s giving tomorrow. Or, the one where they're powered criminals in love. (My review: HOOOOOOOO BOY YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED? SOME TELEPATHY MM YES. YES. WRECK THEM NURI I MEAN YUURI)

Eros, and Other Love Stories - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - Eros. Yuuri understands it in theory, of course. He’s seen what must be hundreds of movies about the very topic, but never really understood them. Never understood why the protagonists of these films make such fools of themselves for sex, or why they fall head over heels in love with the first pretty face they see. He nods and smiles and sighs along with the rest of them… but he’s never related to those characters’ struggles. Not even a little. What is wrong with him?- - A character study of Japan's ace, Katsuki Yuuri. (My review: I sitll haven’t commented on this because I’m 8.2 million years behind on everything but w o w Meg’s ace!Yuuri blew me away. Unbelievable)

The Triple Lutz Job (Ch. 1-4) - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - Backed by the world's foremost hackers, grifters, and thieves, Victor Nikiforov works the other side of the law to fight against injustice on behalf of the underprivileged. When a woman asks for his help in retrieving stolen government data, Victor and his team infiltrate a local figure skating competition in order to take down a corrupt CEO. But beneath the ice's frigid beauty lurk many perilous secrets that may be more than even the world's greatest thieves can handle. (My review: IT’S ABOUT FSAJKFSING TIME I READ THIS MEG I’M DYING MEG’S OTABEK IS BEST OTABEK.)

Twice The Love For Yuuri - smutinator - @smutinator - Yuuri and Viktor go camping and end up having a three-way with Viktor's fairy doppelganger. (My review: Look, I always need more vyv. We all know that. Very well written and A+.)

Six Hours Ahead (Ch. 6-10) - alipiee - @alipiee - (In which Yuuri unknowingly befriends Viktor online and gushes to him about the living legend himself) (My review: Another story I was 50 years behind on. I love this super sweet au, and I live for Niki and Yuuri. It’s very cute and ccan’t wait for more)

never tasted rubies - ebenroot - @ebenroot - Phichit puts up a poll on the radio website. It reads ‘What Do U Think About Yuuri K. from Hasetsu Nights and the Mysterious Caller Victor?’ Seventy-five percent of listeners said ‘lol they should just f*ck already tbh’. -- in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won't stop calling in to chat with him (My review: I feel like I might hvae read this one before but ??? it’s???? so good??? Definitely a favorite in the fandom)

(Don't Stop) 'Til You Knock On My Door - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - “And…” Victor wets his lips. “You… want this?” A sly smile spreads across Yuuri’s face. “I want,” Yuuri says, putting his hands on Victor’s hips as he pulls him closer, “to give you what you need.” He brushes his thumbs over Victor’s hip bones. “Will you tell me what you need now?” -- Yuuri is ace. Victor is not. They both find a way to get what they need from each other. (My review: Ace!Yuuri feat. Viktor getting no control in his life for once because he fucking needs that sometimes. God, Meg killed me. Again.)

While you were sleeping - Chessala - @chessala - In which Yuuri falls into a Coma after saving Viktor's life and Viktor is having a hard time dealing with it. (My review: I shouldn’t have any room to say “this is so sad” with me also writing a mcd this week but also how dare you i loved it)

Reptiles - KasumiChou - @kasumi-chou - Yuri was over JJ spamming him pictures of his snakes. Snakes were not cool. No. Nope. Cats were one hundred times better. And then he finds out how hot Otabek looks with a snake around his neck. (My review: So I’m def super behind on Kas’s Twitter au, but she did this thing with snakes and I needed more. This is my fault. <3 u kas. I loved it)

The Virtue of Sin (Ch. 1) - DefiantDreams - @gia-comeatme - When Yuuri comes home to 7 demons, each embodying the 7 Deadly Sins, it’s honestly the least of his worries.Surprisingly, they help him get back on his feet, succeed in his career and get the man of his dreams.(But, as with anything, there is a price.) (My review: so I saw essa reblog this prompt and was immediately excited because a) i love essa and b) the prompt looked great and she did not let me down, excited for more!!)

How You Turned My World, You Precious Thing - cuttlemefish - @cuttlemefishwrites - Labyrinth-inspired (1986) AU. When Viktor’s sister dies in a car crash, he’s left to take care of his one-year-old nephew Yuri, despite barely knowing how to take care of himself. It’s too bad Viktor has accidentally wished Yuri away to the Goblin King, whose killer eye-shadow game and glitter storms are nothing compared to the Labyrinth protecting his castle. Now, Viktor has 13 hours to get Yuri back or he risks losing him forever to the Goblin King, who also has 13 hours to convince Viktor that forever is not long at all. (My review: the labyrinth au i didn’t know I needed until z started to write it - feat. baby yurio, goblin king yuuri, and clueless viktor who is definitely at fault for this)

What I Wrote This Week (7/2-7/9)

never stop remembering him - “The flight from Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow to Fukoka has gone down,” The loudspeaker was saying, and Viktor wished the ringing would return. “We have no word yet on the passengers or crew, but it is reported that an engine went out and couldn’t be recovered, and the plane crash landed. As we get more information on the flight, it will be reported. For now – “ They began to talk about other delays, but Viktor didn’t bother to listen, his heart feeling numb. He just had to remember to breathe. (Or: Yuuri dies after Rostelecom and what can Viktor do?)

#yoi fic rec #yuri on ice #yoi fic #fic rec #thishasbeencary #my fic

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