#I’m lucky to found one piece
Text
My thoughts on my One Piece journey and How it’s affected me 🩷
This is going to be long ass post lol
I think this is the platform that I never knew that I will ever comeback to but you know because of one piece and deprived of Sanji, Nami & Law content, ✨ here I am 😁✨ *shamelessly comeback after abandoned tumblr for good 11 years lmao*.
Anyway, I just want to let out my thoughts on my one piece journey and how it affected me. So bear with me. This is only place I can talk about One Piece because other platforms I had is related to kpop * Yes I’m a kpop fan. HEAVY ON NCT. Neo Got My Back.*
I know about one piece way back when I’m teenager. It’s just I don’t start to watch it/ read it somehow?? Idk why 🤷♀️ I’m also confused to as why because I did grew up watch anime like FMAB, Naruto, Bleach, Black Butler, K-On, Fairy Tail on tv. HECK I EVEN WATCH THE LONG ASS DETECTIVE CONAN TOO 😭
I think it’s because back in the day ( 2010 - 2017 ), I had lack of access to internet and not exposed to the series at all. Besides the local TV station here, only aired Naruto ,Bleach and those anime I mentioned . *I’m just 24 years old btw*
So around September 2023, I came across to One Piece content on TikTok and funny enough it’s Brook edit! I was so intrigued with this character and little did I know I watch a bunch of One Piece clip here and there on TikTok. To be fair, I am basically spoiled myself that time 😬 but I’m the type dgaf if I got spoiled because I won’t remember at all later on. 🤷♀️
So I decide to start watch it. First few episodes, my reaction was like “ Okay Luffy is an interesting guy🧐his body stretches and always smiled! He got damn hands tho ngl”. Zoro, my reaction was like “ahaaa SO THIS IS ZORO THAT EVERYONE KEEP TALKING ABOUT. Quite a Stud.”
Nami, interesting female character that I can relate because I like money 🤑 and her backstory is so sad. Ussop is also another character I gradually love over the time!
Then COMES MY HUSBANDO, SANJI. Man I have a thing for a man who can cook and looks good in suits. Sanji really makes me having my first anime crush ever! I DONT HAVE A CRUSH ON ANYONE IN NARUTO & Detective Conan but One Piece made me have one 🤧 *The upgrade from loving a guy that exist but doesn’t know you exist ( haechan,jaehyun & jaemin bb i luv you guys but Sanji 😮💨) to loving a guy who are not exist on this plane of earth 👀*
Little did I know I start to binge watch it. First day of watching, 30 episodes in 6 hours. 10 days later I already watch 325 episodes . but the show is so good! The story telling that oda created really hit home to me and the foreshadowing & lore he created makes me hooked unlike other story that I have read & watched.
Here’s the thing, to me every anime that I watch, I never like finish it . Sometimes I would just watch last ep and called it the day. This is not only apply on anime, it’s apply to western shows, my own local shows & k-dramas. So One Piece truly like solidified their place on my heart. I finally can understand why one piece are so loved for decades!
Also during those times, I hit rock bottom too. I quit my job because I was falsely accused for stealing shit at my work place and being discriminated by my ex-boss due to being the youngest one for my entire work.( everyone else was in their 40’s ). That time I was desperate as I need some money to achieve my bucket-list and want to lessen the burden of my family. Lord heavens knows what I’m going through, got death threats by that mf. Twisted the truth that causing my whole family cut ties with her severely. From there, I felt so stress and worried.
So One Piece is my way of escapism and it’s been a beautiful and exciting journey. Compared to last time, I took a 7 months breaks from works due to burn out & anxiety, this time it doesnt took long for me to overcome those situations and my “year-end blues” that I called is not as bad as before. I also has been actively try to get a job asap so I can buy an Ipad as I want to start learning digital drawing again after watching one piece.
One piece teach me it’s never late to start a new journey towards your dream! I used to dream to be a graphic designer or animators but my family don’t want me to be that. They want me to have that conservative jobs like working in government, an accountant etc. so essentially I gave up those dreams so I can make them proud of me. It’s been bothering me for so long as I felt like I should have go for what I want not what people want. At the end, I abandoned my accountancy knowledge and worked as an admin & a baker which I found a lot more less stressful that being an accountant. I guess what people describe after knows me personally being a confident, free-spirited & rebellious is just the way I am. AND oddly enough One Piece is just perfect manga & anime for me!
At this point, I already caught up with anime. I’m a weekly basis anime watchers now. I also has caught up with manga too. It’s been a huge revealing & fresh experience of One Piece for me. I felt like I being myself again! It’s weird but it’s the truth! I never felt so at ease and being seen. I just want to do what I want. It’s just fitting fate for me to be a One Piece fan!
That’s all what I want to say… if you really read this till the end. Thank you!
#one piece#I’m lucky to found one piece#monkey d. luffy#roronoa zoro#nami#ussop#sanji#tony tony chopper#PEOPLE SHOULD START WATCH ONE PIECE FOR BETTER LIFE! I’m being real here!#soul king brook#franky#jimbei#nico robin
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.
He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.
So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.
“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.
Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”
He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.
Eddie screams.
Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.
He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.
Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”
And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.
And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.
“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”
“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”
“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”
“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”
“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”
And…
Well. That’s a development.
“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”
And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.
“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”
Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.
Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”
Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”
“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”
“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.
“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”
Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”
Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.
Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.
Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.
“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”
And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.
Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.
“Your lips are blue.”
“I’m f-fine.”
A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.
“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.
He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.
Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.
But instead—
“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.
Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.
“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.
Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”
“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.
Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”
Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”
Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.
“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”
“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.
There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…
Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.
At least, he would if he could stand up.
When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”
His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.
“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.
“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.
“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.
“Is—is Eddie—?”
“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.
And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.
For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.
But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.
He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.
#dustin henderson fic#eddie and dustin#steve and dustin#steddie with dustin’s pov#henderfam#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#dustin henderson#steve harrington#eddie munson#i couldn’t resist the music reference it’s a song i love but wasn’t coming up in nbtdad ❤️#dustin and nancy
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL
Author’s note; fuck off Amy.
Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader
Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.
Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.
F1 Master List
Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.
It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.
"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"
She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.
She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.
Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.
Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.
Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.
Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.
Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.
It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.
Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.
"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.
Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.
"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.
"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"
"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.
The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.
"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.
It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"
She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"
Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat, placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.
He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"
He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.
Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.
She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.
Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.
"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.
He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.
"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.
"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"
"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.
"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"
Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"
Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.
"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"
"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"
Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"
She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.
Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"
Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.
"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.
His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.
"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.
"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.
"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.
Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?
"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.
Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"
Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.
He couldn't wait to get home.
#formula one#fluff#motorsport#sebastian vettel x reader#seb5#seb vettel#sebastian vettel#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#f1#f1 fanfic#formula one x you#formula one x reader#sebastian vettel x you#formula 1#sebastian vettel imagine
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
hiya love, I just found your lovely blog and I have a lil request for ya. if you aren't comfortable with the kinks, just delete the request ☺️
so like I was imagining a big beefy bucky with a big cock who really wants to get you pregnant. he's overwhelmed by how good you feel and he talks a lot about how he can't wait to see you full of him and when he finally comes, there's like a LOT of cum and it takes a while for it to stop and you're like super full of super soldier cum and pretty much instantly pregnant ?!?! ok bye
smut — eighteen plus!
heavy breeding kink, daddy kink, beefy bucky with a big fucking dick. my head is spinning after this so thank you.
hi love <3 hehe thank you for this! i love kinks <3
i’m not too keen on making reader pregnant but i love a breeding kink & in my head … bucky has the biggest one (that’s what she said)
and his cock is fucking huge! beefy bucky with a huge cock makes me fall to my knees just for him. because im thinking how toned and beefy he is and how good he looks as soon as he comes out of a shower
like he’s still dripping wet with the towel slung low to his waist, hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck with some stray pieces falling. he’s humming a song you can’t really tell what it is, you’re too distracted anyways as soon as you see that towel fall
“hey baby?” he asks quietly as you look up at his, a smirk on his lips once you realize he caught you staring at him. “got something on your mind?” you bite your lip as you shake your head coyly with your cheeks heating up. he grins, walking towards you as your sitting on the bed, back against the headrest.
“you sure?” he asks again, crawling up the length of the bed before hovering over you, your back sliding down the pillow until his left thigh is between yours, pressed snug up against your bare cunt. between all this, you forget to reply as he takes your chin in his hand and makes you look up at him.
“asked you a question, babydoll. seems like you really have something on your mind.” he trails off, letting go of your chin before trailing his fingers down your throat making your body shiver at the slight touch of his skin on yours. you nod your head, but not telling the truth.
“mm, well we both know that’s not true. but i have something on my mind,” he says softly, dipping his head down to your collarbone as you feel his thick cock press hard into your thighs. you shiver as you feel his hips move slowly, his lips sucking on your skin as his hands travel down the sides of your body. he practically worships you every single chance he gets because how could he not? he was so fucking lucky to have some one like you under his arm.
“bucky…” your whine was quiet and you weren’t sure if he would’ve heard you but of course he did. those super solider senses were sharp — especially when it came to your and your sounds.
“what is it baby?” he asks against your skin, his body entrapping you against the sheets, everything smelling like him. he pulls back a bit sitting up, spreading your thighs a bit more so he could fit right in between.
the tip of his cock pressed against your wet hole, his finger strumming through your folds as his thumb rubs your clit. you squirm in place, soft whines leaving your lips as he just stares as you with blown out eyes, curly pieces of brown hair framing his face and the subtle lighting from the soft lamps make his features pop out more.
“wanna know what i’m thinking?” you don’t have time to answer as he continues to rub your clit in slow circles as he pushes his cock slowly into your cunt stretching you out around him. he shivers as he feels how tight you are, how soaked you already are and the slight pulses of your clit under the pad of his thumb
“how you would look stuffed full of my cum…” his eyes look at you lustfully as they drop down your body to your clit. “leaking out of this pretty pussy while i fuck it back into you. getting you round with my child.” he grunts softly as you whine in response.
“yeah, baby? you’d like that huh? letting me abuse this pretty little cunt of yours anytime i want. pumping you full of my cum and making sure it sticks everytime.” he pushed deeper into your cunt as he spoke, pressing harder on your clit as you gripped his arms as he fucked you. the obscene sounds of his cock fucking your wet hole and his heavy balls slapping against you covered in your slick made your head spin.
“you feel so fucking good, babydoll… fuck…” he lets out a deep moan, digging his nails into your hips. you shivered as you heard the praise, making his sense peek up as your body leans further into him when he praises you. he takes his finger away from your clit giving you some sort of relief as he bottoms out into your cunt when he reaches over to the nightstand drawer.
you let out a moan as you feel his cock stretch your cunt out fully, arching your back and pressing your chest into his. he groans, letting his head fall before he moves his hips for a few moments getting distracted by how warm your cunt feels.
pulling the drawer open as you wrap your limbs around his big body, he pulls out a small bullet vibrator and turns it on. he reaches in between your bodies and presses it against your swollen clit making you moan out.
“oh… fuck-!” he chuckles darkly as he starts to fuck you hard, the headboard slowly starting to hit the wall louder and louder with each stroke. his cock twitches in your cunt as you dig your nails into his back, the toy making your cunt clench around his cock every single time.
“you feel so fucking good baby, fuck. fuck i need to fill you up with my cum. you want that baby? you want daddy’s cum?” you whine as you nod, pressing into him. your body feels like it’s on fire with the vibrations of the toy and how his cock stretches your cunt out with a burn.
“please bucky, mm,” you lose your brain as you start melting into the sheets feeling your body shiver and your toes curl. he grins against your skin as he feels your cunt squeeze his cock for all it’s worth as he cums harshly, feeling you follow right after.
“oh, baby…” he hums softly as he tosses the toy to the side and sits up but doesn’t pull out. his cock is throbbing inside of you and you feel his cum leak out of your hole and down onto the sheets. “don’t think i’m done with you yet.”
#asks#anon#fae reqs.#fae bucky blurbs#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns imagine#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky smut#bucky fanfic
751 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gazelle (m)
synopsis. You’re his, only his beautiful gazelle.
pairing. gojo x fem!reader
warnings. MDNÏ. yändêrê thèmès, mátúrê ëxplïcït thèmès, ünprôtèctèd sèx, ëxplïcït sèx, scènt kïnk, hè’s sö nèèdy, kïndá sübmïssïvè gôjô, lôts óf kïssïng, präïsè kïnk, röugh fückïng, márkïng, pösèssïvè!göjö, prôfânïty, yándèrè gôjô
note. I could’ve done this so much better but…. I’m still a rookie when it comes to writing smut… hehe… also gojo loves to call you his gazelle… ifykyk… 👁️💌 ENJOY!
Gif not mine I found this on Pinterest so cr to owner.
It’s absolutely embarrassing how needy he gets around you.
Satoru Gojo is helpless around you, his beautiful and dazzling girlfriend, Y/N.
One second around you and he feels his mind shut down, his heart pumping loud so hard that he’s convinced you’ve noticed the sound of his heartbeat.
One second around you and all he can think about is fucking you so hard that the only name you remember is his.
He is a possessive guy, and you are unfairly gorgeous.
Gojo is territorial, he knows it’s toxic but you’re too precious to him, so he tries his best to make sure you stay with him, and only him.
People are disgusting, oh he knows, especially men.
Men are predators, you are like the most beautiful gazelle, Gojo is a man after all, he knows what goes into their [his] sick brain whenever you’re around.
You’re the most valuable person in Saturo’s life.
He can’t loose you.
So he just has to keep you happy, by any means necessary.
But, there’s this one way that he loves.
Pleasing you through sex.
He can’t help but pound into your heat like a desperate man, fuck, you feel so good that his mind feels numb, only the thoughts of you surrounding his brain.
“F-Fuck, ‘toru!” You yelp,
Gojo watches your beautiful E/C eyes, your lashes flutter, your face is scrunched as your bite your lower lip, your hands feel so hot around his back, “B-Baby harder!” He moans, too lost in his moment.
God you’re so beautiful like this.
“H-Harder, princess, please dig them in deeper!” He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing your breaths as he dives deeper into your core, the pressure makes your eyes roll back from the sensation,
Your nails are scratching his back so hard, the burn feels orgasming to him, he bites your lip hard, yet gentle and it spurs you on further,
Making Gojo whimper when you clench around him so tightly.
“F-Fuck princess! C-Can’t move..” he breaks the kiss, your eyes are now wide open as you look into your boyfriend’s wild cold coloured eyes.
“F-Fuck love you so much!”
“Please help me baby.. please..” Satoru sounds pathetic right now, be he doesn’t care, peppering kisses all over your tear stained face as you smile sweetly at him.
“‘m close turo.. so fuckin’ close!” How can you sound so cute at a moment like this, your tongue is lulling out of your mouth, your body feels so soft beneath his running palms all over your skin.
You’re a piece of art, so beautiful that it drives him insane.
“M-Me too baby, fuck, gonna cum together yeah?” His heart feels crazy, you nod, “gotta release me a little baby please..” he groans.
You feel so hot, he feels so hot.
He pushes your body deeper into the mattress, you don’t object as he buries his face into your neck, his breath chilling over your sweaty neck.
“So good, S-Satoru…” you praise your boyfriend, he whined into your embrace, you know how to get him so needy, that’s why he’s so in love with you.
You’re his everything.
He licks over your sensitive skin, grazing his teeth, he bites softly.
“Yn… gonna cum!” He’s almost about to cry, you inhale a deep breath, trying your best to loosen up a little around his length.
“D-Do it toru… let it go!” You kiss his cheeks, his breath is trembling as he whined again and again into your neck.
“You’re so… fuck.. you’re so good to me.” He loves you so much, Gojo loves you so much, you’re his everything, always so considerate.
How did he get so lucky?
“Baby… yn..” he calls out your name in the most soft voice, his lips hot against your skin, “want you to cum together w’me..”
He thrusts deeper into you, making you gulp before you can respond to him, you can see the stars as he mercilessly fucks you with all his might.
It. feels. so. good.
“I-I feel close, gojo..” you confess. He knows, he’s nodding into your hair, kissing you, “I know princess, let loose.”
He’s so gentle with his words yet so rough with his movements.
You know you can’t hold yourself back anymore.
He caresses your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you feel his hips bucking up.
You follow him, doing the same.
And before you can think of anything, you both release together.
“My gazelle… so perfect for me every single time..” he smiles, panting hard as he presses a wet kiss on your sweaty forehead,
“it’s completely okay if you get pregnant baby.”
He winks and you roll your eyes.
#gojo smut#yandere jjk#smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru smut#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#gojo imagine#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo fanfic#gojo saturo#gojo saturo x reader#gojo saturo x you#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#yandere gojo#yandere satoru gojo#yandere saturo x reader#yandere x reader#yandere smut#yandere au
865 notes
·
View notes
Text
bright eyes | eddie munson x reader
summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, your's an Eddie's relationship takes a new turn, while navigating life with her little girl (4.3k)
warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!
a/n: the support has been insane, so enjoy part2 <3 part 1 part 3 (they can be read seperatly)
“Munson! There’s a girl here asking for you.”
The raspy voice of his college snapped him back to reality. He had been working on the same bike for a while now, and had become unaware of everything else that was happening around him.
But if there was a girl to see him, it could only be you, or maybe Robin.
He really hoped it’d be you.
Heads followed him as he crossed the dusty garage floor as he found his way to the opened mechanical door. Lucky for him, you were anxiously waiting there, your hands playing with the hem of your sweater.
You had been lucky, if you actually think about it. You had left the café you started working at a few weeks ago, so you could go to the trailer park and get some sleep. This last weekend the logistic center that was 30 minutes away had called you, begging you to take the night shift since some of their employees were on vacation. You accepted, since they offered to pay you extra, and in cash. The downside was that the sleep you had lost didn’t seem to come back, and your car had been making a strange sound since then.
Now your car refused to turn right, and if it did it took way too much strength.
You avoided spending more than you had to, but it looked like it was finally time. Thank god Eddie works here, you kept thinking as you found your way to the mechanic.
“Hi.” Your voice was lower, barely holding yourself together.
“Hi princess.” He tried to cheer you up, a big smile on his face and his affectionate pet name he had only for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kept walking towards you, cutting the distance until you were a step away from each other.
“I wish it was a surprise.” The way your eyebrow furrowed let him know that you were a bit too anxious, a bit too nervous with the situation. “I need your help.” You added as your palm covered your face for a moment, trying to wipe away the panic.
“Whatever you need, princess.” And maybe it was his sweet tone, maybe it was the nickname or maybe it was the way his hand held your arm, in a supportive and soft way, that let you finally relax.
You walked with him to your car, while you told him what was going on. He just nodded and let you talk, knowing that that was just what you needed.
“It just sucks, I don’t know how I’m gonna get to work now.” You kept speaking as he popped the hood up of your car, and he kept looking at the engine, and everything that crept deep into it, what everything did you had no idea. Eddie was used to people talking while he worked, but oddly enough it made him feel more important, when you were the one doing it.
“I could drive you.” He replays. His body stood up from being bent over. He was tying his hair up, and you had lost any and every train of thought you had. You had never seen someone look as pretty with a ponytail, even when they were covered in car grease. Black stains in contrast with his white muscle top, decoration his arms in places tattoos didn’t. “I don’t mind, as long as you’re okay with carpooling with Lua.” Eddie’s nervous smile came back, an upside down grin while his eyebrows raised, eyes locked with yours.
“I’d love that.”
-
Breakfast was Lua’s favourite.
A piece of toast with some sweet jam, a cup of warm milk, and some cut up fruit.
Eddie let her eat it wherever she felt like, time proved that was the better option. She usually preferred to eat it sitting down on the kitchen counter, while Eddie sat on the stools, eyes on the same level. He usually ate the rest of the fruit that he didn’t give to her, while he downed his black coffee. Though if he was honest, he had never cracked how to brew a good cup.
Lua would babble whatever she had on her mind, she was chattier in the mornings, unlucky for her, Eddie was not a morning person, his energy drained from another poor night’s sleep.
Everytime he thought about it, it made him laugh. Before her little girl came into his life, he’d sleep until way past noon, usually skipping school, having a cigarette and a coffee -if anything- for breakfast, without a job - a legal one- and with no real reason to do anything with his life.
Maybe that’s why he cares so much about her, her little light, his reason to keep going, and be better.
While he looked at her, the world seemed to quiet down for a moment, and everything was fine.
Three knocks at the door, and he already knew you were on the other side of it.
“Morning.” Amusement in his voice, in a hush tone. His dippels appeared, as his smile grew wider, they way your hair fell, in a tangled mess, being the reason for it. He was just happy to see you, though he wasn’t going to admit it. Not yet.
“Hi.” Your voice came out raspy and hoarse. You hadn’t talked to anyone yet, and it made him chuckle even more. He moved his body out of the door frame, letting you plenty of room to walk through. “Coffee?”
“Already done.” He muttered back, pointing with his head where the mug in his kitchen was.
You felt your face relax as soon as you saw Lua enjoying her breakfast, quietly. Your eyes closed when your earnest smile came, once her voice rang with excitement as she said your name, as her hands moved through the air.
“Hi dude!” You matched her energy, the momentary excitement winning the battle for your remaining energy.
Lua gave you a high five, which you celebrated with a funny face that made her laugh. She offered you a piece of fruit that you accepted in a way too exaggerated manner, that only made her giggles multiply. Unbenoughts to you, Eddie was watching attentively.
He was memorizing the way your hair fell on your back, and the way it swayed everytime you moved. The way you fitted in your dark washed jeans, the little red shirt from the café hugged your waist and he suddenly had the wish to place his hand there. He didn’t do it.
Instead he handed you a mug with watered down coffee, that you accepted. He grinned at the way your nose scrunched once you took the first sip of it.
“Yeah, I’m not the best coffee maker.” He confessed while he suppressed a laugh.
“Clearly.” You answered in a joking manner, it wasn’t bad, you just weren’t used to black strong coffee, not the way he was. “I’m making you breakfast tomorrow.”
You meant it. He knew, so he accepted with a nod and another smile.
“Wayne’s sleeping, so we try to not wake him up. It’s difficult when little miss sunshine has all the energy in the world.” He explained while looking at Lua, her beaming smile and giggles made him light up, his thumb cleaning her cheek that had some purple jam on it.
“There’s no one else in my trailer, she can be as chatty as she wants there.” Lua understood that, as soon as she realised what you were talking about she started to clap and cheer, a soft chuckle escaping from your lips.
Eddie could hear that symphony for the rest of his days, he thought.
-
It became a new way to start your days.
You’d brew some coffee, and prepare an extra mug for Wayne, that Eddie left on the counter of his kitchen before you left for work.
You’d actually cook, eating something in the early hours for once, a new habit you never had before.
Lua always knocked on your door whenever they were ready, the little sound on your door followed by her sweet hi, as her arms swanged up in the air. She was becoming more and more comfortable with you, letting you hold her. She even gave you a thank you kiss on the cheek once.
Today you had some pancake batter sizzling in the pan, orange juice for her, milky tea for you.
“Dada?”
“Yes?” Eddie raised his eyebrow as he took his first sip, his voice softening at her.
“Music?” She answered with another question.
“Ah, yes. The beautiful melody that connects us all together.” He babeled, in that voice he used when he was talking as what he was saying was written in an antique book. He tended to do it more when he knew you would smile.
He took two cassettes out of his back pocket, letting her choose. He wished she’d actually choose the mix he finished last night, but as always, she picked the one that had a drawing she did as a cover.
He nodded and walked to your radio.
It hit him in that moment, just how tangled your lives were becoming. He knew where (almost) everything in your home was, and the same was starting to happen for you. He knew that you kept honey in a reused jar, because Mr.Felix gave you local honey from a friend in the first cupboard to the right. He knew you had extra plasters in the second drawer of your bathroom because you had a tendency to cut yourself when you used a knife when you had to chop something up. He knew that the drawings on your wall were painted by you, but that the one that hung over the orange lamp was gifted to you by a kid you took care of when you worked in a hotel two years ago. He also knew that you knew where Lua likes to put her toys away, under the table of his living room. You knew that the only way she had to eat vegetables was if they couldn’t be seen. You knew that Eddie liked to have it all under his ‘controled mess’ as you called it.
In just a few weeks you had become such an important person that he was scared of you leaving. Which people had a tendency to do in his life.
Now he couldn’t only care about his life, he had to care about Lua’s too, and he had been trying to talk to you about it. But everytime he summoned up the courage to do so, you’d look at him with your pretty doe eyes and everything he had wanted to say left, he could only focus on how pretty you always look.
You focused on other things. Silly, non important things.
Like how his tongue went over his upper lip every time he concentrated to fasten Lua’s seatbelt. Or how he played with his rings when he was deep in thought, whatever it was, his thumb played with the middle one, while his left hand focused on the one in his index finger. Or how when he had a clear idea, and had to start working on something, he’d tie his hair up in a lazy ponytail, his thick neck exposed. Or how he rotated his shoulders when he sat down on the driver's seat at the end of the day, half exhausted, half excited to go back to his home.
You walked to the car shop at around eight, as you always did. Knowing that he’d already be waiting for you outside. Since Lua was back in the house, Wayne coming to pick her up as soon as he wakes up, he always enjoyed that small frame of time to actually smoke a cigarette, his little moment, all for himself.
Before he met you, he’d spend this moment thinking about what he needed to do, what he needed to buy, or what Lua wanted for dinner. Now, the only thought was you. You and your sweet voice, you and your angelic laughter, you and your soft skin. You, everytime you called his name.
“Hey princess.” His pet name had also become a familiar sensation. Your heart still races a bit when it hears it, nevertheless.
“Hey moon.” Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the earnestness of your tone, or the new nickname, but he felt his heart jump around his chest, and his cheeks changing colour, a pretty pink flush taking over them.
“Should we go?” He added, happiness crystal clear, not only by his higher tone, but by his overall demeanor.
“Please. I’m so tired, I think I’ll go straight to bed.” You let out in a whisper, rubbing your face in an attempt to wake up, so you wouldn’t fall asleep on the drive back to the trailer park.
“You should eat something first.” It was his way of showing you he cared, making sure you were taking care of yourself half as well as you took care of others.
“I know, I just really hate cooking for myself. It's boring, and then you have to clean it, and do it all again…”
“You make breakfast for us everyday,” He pointed out, his eyebrow raised in synchrony with his pitch, as he opened the passenger door so you’d climb in.
“Yeah, but that’s different. It’s mostly for you.” You stop as you wait for him to sit on the driver sit, taking the time to make sure your seat belt is fastened. Looking at the backseat, a new habit you had developed thanks to him and his baby. “I didn’t eat breakfast before you guys came.” You admit, and he knows you’re not lying. You never do when your eyes shine that bright. You also know he is a bit worried, a frown appearing on his forehead. “I’m okay, moon.”
“Hey, it’s not fair that you use the nickname to your advantage.” He points out, his index finger raising to the air as he speaks, his car engine starting, heading home.
“Sorry?” You jokingly ask. Knowing that everything’s fine by the way he laughs it off.
“Then, we’ll come over and cook you dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“If that’s okay.” His tone showed a bit of concern now. Maybe he was pushing it a bit too much. He was just excited to spend time with you, so he tried to grab every opportunity he had to do so.
“Yeah, I just… My fridge’s a bit empty. We should stop by the shop.” You were embarrassed.
It was stupid. Or at least it felt stupid. Being embarrassed about it. But the only actual thing you had been buying was dedicated to the breakfast you shared together, once you were home by yourself, you usually had a soup, frozen pizza or a simple grilled cheese sandwich. You really didn't care that much, you just ate if and when you were actually hungry.
And it wasn’t that often, if you were honest.
Eddie knew. He had a tendency to be over observant, and he had noticed, but never dared to say anything. Life was complicated enough, and that was a mantra he stood by. So he took the chance, and planned to cook you the meal he was actually proud of.
-
The Never Ending Story played in the background.
A familiar scene in your trailer.
Eddie’s cooking filled the air with a delicious smell, he was concentrated in it, wanting to impress you while he cooked his ramen noodles with seared shredded chicken.
Meanwhile, you and Lua layed on the rug in your living room, the T.V on a low volume. She had found your nail polish, and cheerfully asked if she could paint your nails.
“What colour do you want to paint them?” You had asked, the calmest your voice has ever been, the tiniest trace of exhaustion in it.
“Blue!” She beamed as she held the bottle.
“Okay, careful though.” You opened the bottle for her, and looked at her as she looked at the puzzle before her. “Do you want me to do the first one?” You asked, knowing that she needed some sort of guide. You realised, she had the same face of concentration as her father, tongue out covering her upper lip.
She started painting, the smell of polish annoying her a bit, you encourage her. Telling her in a kind voice how good of a job she was doing, even if she was getting more colour on your skin than in your nail. She giggled as she covered her face in a shy manner, proud of the job she had finished.
“They look beautiful, bug” Eddie’s voice came right between both of you. As he sat down between you, she held your hand so he could look at them closer. “You did this all by yourself?” Even if he didn’t look at you, and even if his eyes were looking at the proud look on his daughter's face, you could feel the electricity travel from your body to his. And the warmth his touch leaves on your soft skin.
“Yeah.” She whispers in a shy, proud giggle, nodding along, waiting patiently for his compliments.
“She didn’t help you?” He asked again, this time his eyes were on yours. It had changed, you noticed. His eyes weren’t shining with a second intention, or a jokey flare. They were full of something else, if you had to put a name on it -without having to say it out loud- you’d say it was adoration, though you weren’t sure. You were right regardless.
“It was all her.” You tell him. He nods, catching himself falling deeper into the abyss.
“Dinner’s ready” He ended up saying that. He thought that saying what he was really thinking would have been too weird. Tough if he really thought about it, telling you that you had never been more beautiful wasn’t a total lie, or that out of character for him.
Lua sat on his lap, knowing that she would be fed, since she couldn’t be trusted with noodles. Not since she had used a fork to catapult them into the wall a few months back. She was smarter than Eddie realised, and he loved her more for it.
Eddie waited silently for your reaction, and was pleased with himself when you whispered an amazed my god once you took your first bite. He took his chance to look at you while you were eating, distracted by the food. While you took your chance to look at him when he fed Lua.
This was something you could also get used to, you find yourself thinking.
Having company. Having them as company.
It was complicated, and you knew that.
And it was even harder when he acted as nice as he was doing. Even if he had cooked, he was still offering to clean up. It was also harder seeing how Lua wanted you to hold her, exhaustion after a nice meal, she was sleepy and needed comfort. You looked at Eddie, a question written over your face is this okay? He gave you his usual grin, the upside down smile that showed his dimple of course it is.
You held her, close to your chest, her little arms hanged by your side, her head resting between your shoulder and your breast. You were softer than the strong arms she was used to, and your swaying was more delicate -probably because you were afraid to do something that might upset her- you hummed along the final song of the movie that was still playing, and as she felt deeper and deeper into dreaming, Eddie finished cleaning up.
“Is she…?”
“I think so.” Your voice was so quiet he could barely even understand you.
The image of you, holding her with such care, with such softness, with that much love… It became an image he would end up thinking in a recurring manner.
“We could set her down in my room.” You point at the closer door that he had never walked through. He nodded, trying to mask his boyish excitement.
He half expected your room to be as colourfull as the rest of your house, but your walls were white, decorated with just a couple pictures of a city he couldn’t name on the wall, your white sheets that had witnessed your meeting on your bed.
He walked over to you, a bit closer than he had to be to hold Lua, so he could put her down. Enjoying the way his skin graced yours.
He sat down on your mattress, and laid Lua in the middle of it, resting in deep sleep. You followed closely. Your body hitting the usual comfort that your mattress always seemed to have. He waited a second. Another image he wanted to remember happening right in front of him, your body laying down on a bed next to her baby. In another life… Maybe it could have also been yours.
He laid down carefully, and you saw as both of you were lost. Not really sure where to look, but dying to just look at each other's eyes. As these things go, you could only avoid each other for so long.
So you ended up lost into his gaze just as much as he was lost in yours.
It was a bit too much.
“Moon…” You whispered, trying to not wake her up.
“Yeah?”
“Is this weird?” Even if you tried not to, your words still came out as worried as you were.
“Is it weird that it isn’t?” He asked back, the sincerity in his voice made your body relax, your eyebrows furrowed.
“Maybe.” You admit, with a hopeful smile. You turned your focus on her for a moment. “She looks so peaceful.”
“You should see her when she wakes up.” He adds with a smirk on his lips. His fingers pushing a hair out of her face. “She’s calmer when you’re around.”
“We should be careful, then.” You were measuring your words now, not only speaking about her. He knew, so he just nodded.
“You know…” He started speaking after a few minutes of comfortable silence, his body sinking deeper into the comfort of your bed, smelling your perfume in the pillows that hugged his head. “When I had her, it was only me and Wayne, her mother doesn’t want her in her life, and it was scary, and nauseating. I had no idea what I was doing.” His eyes flickered back to you. His shyness was gone, he was calmer with you near. You and the admiration in your eyes. “But I figured it out pretty quickly. She needed me just as much as I needed her. I had help, of course. But still, I wouldn’t change it for the world. She keeps me sane in a way… I know I’m a better person because of her. But I think I’m becoming an even greater person because of you, too.”
You weren’t sure what you could say back. It was a warming feeling, having heard him say it, knowing that somehow you were in the same position as him. So you decided to be brave, to be honest for once.
“I just worry Edds, that’s all.” You admit in a sincer whisper. He knows you’re not done talking, and he doesn’t rush you. He waits patiently, with an understanding nod and a smile on his face. “Meeting you, both of you, has been a blessing. Honestly. It’s been lonely, moving away, being here… And you guys have been so kind, and so welcoming… I really don’t wanna fuck it up.”
“I know, princess.”
“I just… I don’t know where’s the limit. I think… I think I kinnda like you, and if this complicates things I… I don’t know.” You were a bit embarrassed. having finally confessed what has been on your mind for days. But seeing the beaming smile that escaped from Eddie’s lips was all the confirmation you needed.
“I think I kinnda like you too. And I know it sucks. In another life, I would have asked you out, and we would have gone on dates, and we would spend days together but… All I can really think about, all I should think about…” He gestures to the little girl, sleeping soundly. “But we could still figure out a way…”
“You think?”
“Maybe.” He echoes your first maybe, the same tone, the same expression you had given him. “If you want to, we could try it out, go on a date, see if we…”
“Work?”
“Yeah.” A lovesick grin was plastered in both of your faces.
Hope could be felt in the room. Maybe it could work out, maybe you could have something, even if you weren’t sure what that was. Normally the uncertainty would make you nauseous, and anxious. Not this time, it actually made you excited, the promise of a something with them. With him.
“You’d go out with me? An actual date?” He finally asks you. His soft spoken words can’t really hide the excitement that laid deep in his question. And you weren’t that good at lying, and he could read you like a book.
“I’d love to, Moon.” It had been easier than you had anticipated. Complicated and easier seemed to go hand in hand when he came into the picture. “As soon as you fix my car.” You add in a joking tone, sticking your tongue out.
“Oh, your car’s been done for a couple days.” He said in a sirius yet humorous tone, he covered his mouth with his index fingers as soon as a chuckle escaped your lips.
“Asshole.” You whispered in disbelief.
“I just liked having an excuse to hang out with you.”
Just like that, your heart was warmer once again. And soft giggles and conversation followed all the way through the night.
Until the exhaustion caught up with you.
You fell asleep right there. A picture that both of you wanted to remember, the little promise of something more.
-
there might be a part 3 if you guys would like it ! xx
if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3
requests! are open
@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n
part 2 is up, thank for the support dudes <3
#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction fem!reader#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#friends to lovers#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x afab#eddie munson x afab reader#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#Rockstar! Eddie Munson#Rockstar! eddie#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#Eddie Munson x reader slow burn#eddie munson slow burn x reader#slow burn#eddie munson slow burn#hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort Eddie munson#eddie munson hurt/comfort#Eddie Munson hurt/comfort x reader#st4
925 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thrift Store
matt sturniolo x reader
warnings: cute asf LMAO
had an anon talk about this and omg it’s so adorable i’m 🤭🤭
love, sienna <3
“Matt cmon please one more store” Chris begs his older brother.
the three have been out shopping the entire day at different vintage stores and flea markets in LA and to say Matt was tired would be an understatement. his social battery never lasted long in public and today was no different.
as always, Matt had already found a bunch of things, but his brothers weren’t as lucky and both of them wanted to go to just one more store.
this would be fine if they could drive, but Matt’s the designated driver because he’s the only one who got his license which now means wherever they go, he goes. “you better be fast” he gives in, driving to the last store with heavy eyelids and zero motivation for shopping.
_______________________________________________
you on the other hand are more energetic than normal, you had just gotten coffee with a friend and impulsively decided to stop at a store before you went home.
fashion had always been something that spoke to you, not only did you love imaging different outfits and putting pieces together, but you also consider good fashion to be attractive—like a love language in a weird way.
thrifting was always like therapy, you’d put one airpod in and play a mix of songs ranging from Mac Miller to Frank Ocean, your felt at ease sifting through the racks.
the bell at the top of the door rings but you don’t think anything of it, still mindlessly sorting through an abundance of tops while ‘Ivy’ plays softly in your airpod.
_______________________________________________
the moment Matt steps foot into the store he freezes, literally causing Chris to bump into him in the entrance area. “bro what the fuck move”
he shakes his head, what is he thinking? “sorry” he continues walking but ultimately keeps his general focus on you, a girl thrifting by herself, he wasn’t sure why, but he was infatuated with you from the moment he saw you.
Nick looks to him as if he knows what’s happening, his brother flustered at the sight of a girl. “let’s keep moving kid there’s more important things to be looking at”
after mumbling out a quick “yeah whatever” he obliges, heading to the men’s sweater section of the store while his brothers go elsewhere.
his eyes flicker between you and the clothes, and it doesn’t take long for you to eventually pick up on the boy who’s gaze is directed towards you from across the room.
_______________________________________________
another thing you love thrifting is books. most of the time there’s not many options, but you love looking at the abundance of old books on the shelves with a hope that you’ll find something worth reading.
you couldn’t help but avert your gaze to a brunette boy in a green sweater with baggy jeans and his keys hanging on by a clip—he was hot.
and the two of you have made eye contact about twenty times since he entered the store, not that you’re complaining.
you shake your head, focusing back on the book shelf in front of you as you begin to sift through the numerous texts. soon you see the name of a familiar author and open up the book, looking for a description as to what it’s about, fully invested in the book and not your surroundings.
_______________________________________________
“i can’t just go up to her!” Matt whisper yells to Chris as they reside at the opposite side of the store as you.
the long haired boy lets out a frustrated sigh. “that’s exactly what you do! how do you think people meet each other?”
“not by hiding in the back of the store” Nick chimes in as he walks towards the jewelry section.
“i feel like it’s random, what do i even say? hey i’ve been staring at you since i walked in! no.” Matt is definitely one to overthink, today is no different.
although he had more relationship experience than his brother, Chris, that didn’t mean he alluded the same confidence.
“i don’t know Matt compliment her or something, you are literally hopeless” Chris runs his hands through his hair. “just be confident, even if you have to fake it” he pats his brother on the shoulder before waking off to join Nick elsewhere.
be confident
so he does what his brother told him, walking towards the book area with doubting thoughts coursing through his mind.
_______________________________________________
you look away from your book for one second, and the boy from earlier is directly next to you. “oh hi” you smile. you weren’t one to be introverted in settings like this, you enjoy making new friends and he was no exception.
him on the other hand, it was clear he was nervous, which only increased your own confidence.
“hey” he scratches the back of his neck, head louring low as he smiles. “do you thrift a lot? it just seems like you have good style so”
the compliment brings a heat to your cheeks. “i do thrift a lot, i love fashion a little too much” you stop yourself from rambling, if given the opportunity you could talk for hours on end. “i like your sweater, it’s cute”
“thanks” he says simply, some people are not great at receiving compliments and it’s clear he’s one them.
“what are you up to today?” you ask, looking back down at the book in your hands before adding it to the basket you’ve started.
“just shopping with my brothers all day, i’m exhausted but they can’t drive so i have to take them everywhere” he replies, earning a small laugh from you. “what about you?”
“just went out for coffee with a friend actually. i wasn’t planning on shopping but the bus wasn’t coming for another twenty minutes so i had time to kill”
“so you can’t drive either i take it” he teases, running his hand through his wavy hair.
you put your hands up as if your being arrested. “in my defence i have my learners, just need to learn how to actually move a vehicle now”
he chuckles at this. “that’s the hardest part. i could help you if you want, you know teach you how to drive”
“i’d like that, but i don’t even know your name so we’re technically still strangers unfortunately” you joke. “i’m y/n” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“i’m Matt” he replies awkwardly, it’s cute though, how easily flustered he is.
“well Matt as much as i’ve enjoyed talking to you i do have a bus to catch” you gather your things. “i’ll take you up on your driving lessons but i guess you need my number for that”
“i guess i do” he says, pulling out his phone and handing it to you.
you roll your eyes, smiling as you type your number into the phone. “i’ll see you later Matt”
“i’ll see you later y/n”
and with that you walk towards the checkout, a smile still plastered on your face, and if you were to look back you’d see that Matt has the same.
_______________________________________________
when Nick and Chris finally finish shopping, the three make their way to the car after an extremely tiring day. Matt smiles as he sits in the drivers seat, his brothers joining him once they finish placing their bags in the car. “i got her number”
“you what?” Chris asks as his phone connects to bluetooth.
“i got her number and she said my sweater is cute” Matt buckles his seatbelt, doing his best to avoid smiling like an idiot.
“atta boy Matt” Chris daps up Matt as he pulls out of street parking.
the driver looks down at his sweater, he was definitely going to be wearing more stuff like this.
a/n: short and sweet but flustered!Matt x confident! reader is my fav tbh
taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @s7urnfilms @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut ily <3
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo
440 notes
·
View notes
Text
busted (3tan) (m) | myg
title: busted
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made.
note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun!
note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all!
warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍
drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est
word count: 18.8k gdi
-
-
Here goes nothing and everything.
It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.
A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.
Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.
Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.
In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.
Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.
But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.
And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.
There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.
However.
What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.
A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.
They change with or without you.
And they pass by.
“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.
But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”
When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”
“Okay.”
When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.
All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.
Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.
But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.
During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.
You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.
Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.
And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.
Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.
But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?
Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.
A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,
“You okay?”
Fuck.
Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.
And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.
When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.
Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.
The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”
Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.
Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”
“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”
If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.
But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”
He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”
It’s weird to say it.
But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”
“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”
“Oh, god.”
“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”
Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.
“Who are you seeing?”
“Kook…”
“I wanna know.”
“Why?”
He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.
And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.
Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.
“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”
“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”
And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.
Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.
Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.
“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”
The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.
All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.
“You did.”
Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.
Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.
Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?
With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.
And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.
Because they are still the same.
You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.
“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”
You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.
But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.
He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.
“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”
“I know.”
“Do you really?”
He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.
And you’re going to.
“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”
His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.
You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.
“Is it true that you even loved me?”
“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”
Did.
“I still do.”
Liar.
“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”
“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”
When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.
“I’ve regretted it every day since.”
“Bullshit.”
“I have!”
“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”
“No, I—”
“All those calls you never made.”
“I wanted to call!”
“You wanted nothing to do with me!”
“No! That’s not true—”
“Liar!”
He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.
“I’m not lying!”
“You are!”
You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.
But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.
Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—
There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,
“What the hell’s going on in there!”
Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?
…Were you both that loud?
“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“You better be serious—”
“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”
“…Okay.”
And then it’s completely silent.
But you know he hasn’t left.
Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.
Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,
“Dude, I said I’m—”
Oh, fuck.
Yoongi’s right there with him.
And your heart fucking lurches.
Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—
“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”
“Wait, it’s not like th—”
“You come into our house after years—”
“Stop!”
“And pull some shit like this?”
Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”
You and your brother have a thousand differences.
But one thing you two have in common?
He’s just as stubborn as you are.
A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.
“I’m not—”
“Hey—!”
“The fuck—”
“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.
Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.
Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.
Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”
Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,
“Why should I.”
“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.
Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.
No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.
It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”
“…So it’s like that?”
Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”
To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,
“The fuck it isn’t—”
“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”
You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.
Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.
You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.
You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.
And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.
When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.
“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.
But they don’t have to do anything.
Except let you do this yourself.
“Please.”
After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.
But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,
“Trust me.”
Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.
When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.
While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.
However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.
What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.
It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.
But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.
“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.
And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”
“Yoongi was a surprise.”
Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”
Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.
“Right.”
…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?
“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”
“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”
Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.
Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.
Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,
“You loved me?”
“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”
“What?”
Fuck.
It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.
As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.
So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.
In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.
“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.
When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.
And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.
When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”
He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”
For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”
“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”
“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”
When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”
“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”
He laughs again. So do you.
And the both of you break all at once.
He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.
While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.
You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.
But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.
“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”
“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.
And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.
Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.
When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.
But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.
What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.
But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”
Still, Jungkook moves in.
Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.
What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.
You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”
“I promise.”
“Only alright? I have a chance then.”
“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”
His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”
Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”
He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”
“I’ll be okay.”
After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.
Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.
You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.
But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.
And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.
She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.
While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.
Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”
Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”
“He said he still loves me.”
Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”
“Dom…”
“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”
“He said it was a mistake.”
“It sure as fuck was.”
“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”
“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”
“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”
In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,
“What do I have now.”
As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”
Huh?
Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”
What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—
“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”
“K.”
Wait, what.
You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.
His name is molasses on your tongue.
What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?
He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.
“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.
Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.
Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.
When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”
Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.
“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”
“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”
“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”
Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”
“But it’s true.”
His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,
“Makes me wanna take you home.”
Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.
Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.
But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.
Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”
“Take you home?”
“Mmhmm.”
Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”
If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.
If you didn’t have to wait.
At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.
But why does he seem so—
You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.
And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.
“Listen.”
“Hmm?”
“I know we said we’d say something.”
Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”
“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”
Huh.
What does he mean by—
“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”
You freeze.
So does time.
A minute is no longer enough.
“Yoongi, please—”
“Can you do that?”
Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.
Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.
There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.
And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.
Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?
“Babe?”
But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.
Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.
And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.
Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.
So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.
You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.
If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.
Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.
“Doll, let me know because—”
“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”
He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,
“Anything for you.”
That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.
“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.
And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.
You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.
But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.
Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.
And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.
If people are like seasons…
Which one will Yoongi be?
Fuck.
Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.
And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.
“Yoongi, I—”
You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.
“I know.”
His name rattles around your mouth.
“It’ll be okay.”
You wanna believe him.
“Okay?”
But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.
“Fuck.”
He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.
It’s not fair.
None of this is fucking fair.
If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.
It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.
And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.
Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.
“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.
Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.
Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.
Because you know him well enough.
He was committing your every feature to memory.
And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.
The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.
And you hear them all through your door.
Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.
Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey
Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?
You [1:40am]: yeah
Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up
You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.
When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.
Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too
That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.
You🙄 [1:46am]: ok
Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍
Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.
A plate. A bowl after that.
Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.
You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.
And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.
“Hey.”
You hum.
“Do I need to beat his ass?”
Well, that didn’t take long.
Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”
“And I’d deserve it.”
You pause.
“But I still wanna know.”
Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”
“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”
Your lip stings under your teeth.
“And I can’t just let that go.”
When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”
He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.
And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.
As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.
All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.
But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.
You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.
But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.
“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”
“...Why didn’t you tell me.”
Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”
Silence.
“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I always worry.”
“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”
Shit, that was close.
“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”
“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”
And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.
He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.
But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.
An apology.
“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”
Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?
This can’t be it.
Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”
“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”
He’s gonna what? “Why?”
“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”
“…Oh.”
You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.
And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.
What the hell happened after he left your room?
Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”
Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.
But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”
“Until they realized we kept going alone.”
A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”
He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”
“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.
A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”
“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”
True. “It could be worse, I think.”
“How?”
You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.
Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?
Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.
Together.
“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”
“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”
Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”
And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”
“Oh, really.”
“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”
Wait, he did what now?
…You didn’t know that.
“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”
“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”
The pause he makes weighs a ton.
“And leave this to us when you came back.”
So… He…
Holy shit.
You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.
But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?
…Is he paying loans?
“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.
He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”
“So were you.”
Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.
“It’s whatever.”
He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.
And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.
So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.
And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.
Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?
Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”
“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”
“What.”
“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”
“I like it here, though.”
“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”
“Empty?”
“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”
You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”
And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.
Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.
But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.
And regret others.
A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”
“All the time.”
“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”
“Hmm.”
You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”
And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”
You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.
Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.
He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.
So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”
“I’m sorry.”
“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.
“For what I did. I was outta line.”
“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”
“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”
Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.
It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.
But that doesn’t make it any less true.
“Love you, too.”
An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.
…Calling should be okay, right?
Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...
Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
It’s ringing.
Still ringing.
…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.
Fuck.
Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.
And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.
This hollow, aching, painful feeli—
Yoongi: Incoming Call
Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.
“H—”
“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”
His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”
Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”
“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”
Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”
You hear a low grunt before he responds.
“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”
Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”
“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”
“Okay.”
There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.
“Spoke to Kook.”
Shit.
“And the guys.”
Oh. About work. “What’s up?”
“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”
Ah. No finish line in sight.
But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.
“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”
“When you get it.”
You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”
“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”
“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”
“See? Claiming shit already.”
You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”
“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”
“Yoongi.”
“Fine.”
“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”
“Just work stuff.”
“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.
Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”
“What.”
Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”
“…I see.”
Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”
“Huh? Don’t be.”
“You sound mad.”
There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,
“Not at you, doll.”
Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”
“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”
You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.
“Mm.”
“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”
There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.
“I was there first, doll.”
He what?
“Wait… You were?”
He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.
Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.
Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.
“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”
“So… You both heard—”
“Nothing until the yelling.”
They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?
Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.
Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—
Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.
Run.
“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”
“You okay?”
Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”
“Wait—”
“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”
“Babe, talk to—”
“Bye, Yoongi.”
And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.
He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.
Yoongi: Missed Call
All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.
And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.
But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.
And you’ve been through hell.
Yoongi: Missed Call (2)
Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?
Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?
Yoongi: Incoming Call
With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.
And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.
“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”
Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.
“You didn’t let me say bye.”
When you don’t respond, he trudges on.
“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”
Huh?
“And no hanging up this time.”
What the heck does he… mean…
As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.
Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.
A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.
And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.
For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.
And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.
It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.
Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.
But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.
And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.
Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.
As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.
Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—
“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”
Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.
Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.
“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.
“How’s Jimin?”
“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”
You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.
“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”
“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”
When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.
“How long has it been?”
Ah. That’s a good start.
As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,
“A month.”
“...Damn.”
Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.
“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”
That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”
“That’s good, at least.”
As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.
Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.
And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.
It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.
“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”
If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”
“What do you mean?”
Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”
That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”
A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”
“Mm.”
That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.
Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.
“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”
Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.
Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.
But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”
He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”
Huh. “Me? How?”
Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”
All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.
“Not even denying it. I like this.”
“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.
The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.
“Break? Or what do you feel like?”
You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”
“Mmk.”
Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.
Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week
Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but
Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know
Right.
You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.
“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”
“You can definitely be upset.”
You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.
Only warmth. And understanding.
“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”
There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.
Him? Being more upset than you?
You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.
But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.
It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.
Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…
Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,
“What are you gonna say?”
Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.
If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.
You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴
You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time
When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.
They’re lighter.
How is that possible? You’re still sad.
But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.
Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.
Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.
You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.
The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.
Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.
Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you
And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.
You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later
Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.
Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll
But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.
Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.
The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.
But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.
Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.
The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.
“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.
And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.
“You will.”
Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”
His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.
“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”
“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”
“Oh? The luckiest then.”
“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”
With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.
“Maybe you’re right.”
One week turns into three.
Then two more pass.
And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.
“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”
“It’s okay.”
“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”
“So?”
“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”
“You got a heating pad?”
A what? How does he know about—
Oh. Right.
…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.
“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”
He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,
“Go get it, doll.”
Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.
Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”
“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”
“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”
Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.
“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.
“Okay.”
To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.
Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.
And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.
Soon.
Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.
Both can give people a bit of hope.
But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.
Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.
“Going to Yoongi’s.”
“K.”
“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”
You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”
“K. Have fun!”
When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.
Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.
On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.
When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.
It’s perfect.
And completely useless for the time being.
Calls have been the one thing getting you by.
But over time, even those have virtually stopped.
It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.
Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.
However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.
Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.
You accidentally spill your drink.
And you sob.
One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.
But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…
There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.
No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.
Painful.
As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.
If you forget this one on the railing, too…
Will he finally show up to hand it back?
A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.
Three months.
Ninety days.
Eight million seconds.
It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.
How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?
You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.
A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.
Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.
To the point where it’s starting to scare you.
Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.
But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.
Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.
It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.
But that night in his kitchen…
It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.
On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.
You can’t.
He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.
Your finger moves a bit closer.
What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.
But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.
When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.
Hold on, it’s an incoming call?
Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.
Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.
How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?
Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.
You can’t even say hello.
“Hey.”
Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.
“Hello?”
But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.
As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.
Because it plummets.
“Where are you.”
There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.
“What’s wrong.”
Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.
Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.
You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.
However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.
“Babe, tell me. Now.”
“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”
“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”
Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.
Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”
“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”
Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.
“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”
That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”
“I am.”
You freeze.
So does time.
And the next three seconds are enough.
“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”
After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.
And your chest has never felt lighter.
Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.
If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.
And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.
It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.
But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.
As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.
“Fucking hustler.”
No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.
In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.
Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.
Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.
And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.
Endless.
“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”
With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,
“Anything for you.”
With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.
“You still have to gimme chips.”
Maybe not quite everything.
Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”
“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”
Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.
As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”
“You’re the smartass.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”
When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”
“I just… You read.”
To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.
Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”
“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”
He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”
“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”
“Proactive.”
“Huh? For what?”
He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”
Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”
“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”
“That was you!”
“No?”
“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”
Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.
And you glitch when you realize why.
Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”
He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.
Way too familiar.
Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?
No no no. Why is he taking you there?
You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.
All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”
He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”
“I don’t care.”
“I was only gonna bring you back.”
“Baby, please.”
“He’s home—”
“Do you still miss me?”
He freezes.
Which gives you a chance.
Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.
Almost everything.
“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”
Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.
“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”
He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”
Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.
You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.
Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.
Yoongi’s still way too quiet.
So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.
“Stop.”
You do.
And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.
The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.
Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.
If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.
“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”
You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.
“Please what.”
Everything you want.
Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”
“Huh?”
A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”
All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.
But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.
“The fuck.”
Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.
You don’t know what’s coming over you.
Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.
“Babe—”
Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.
“Are you su—”
“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.
Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…
Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.
What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?
When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”
“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.
Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”
Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.
“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”
He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”
“This.”
Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.
He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”
And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.
Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.
“Holy fuck.”
You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.
And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.
“So fucking filthy...”
You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.
“Don’t do that.”
You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.
“Fuck!”
There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.
Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.
Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”
You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.
Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.
And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.
But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.
“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”
You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”
“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,
“I’m fucking you with them on.”
“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.
You know your panties are soaked.
You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.
But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.
Perfect.
“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.
He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”
You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.
But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.
The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.
He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,
“So fucking perfect.”
“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”
“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”
“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,
“Almost made me come.”
“Be for real.”
“Damn serious.”
The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”
“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”
“Fuck me like you missed me.”
A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.
Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.
“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”
“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”
Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.
His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”
Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.
“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”
“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”
He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”
You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,
“I said. Don’t move.”
“But—Yoongi!”
You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.
“Uh uh.”
And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.
You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.
Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.
If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.
When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.
All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”
Suddenly.
He stops.
And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”
The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,
“What’d you say?”
“Plea—Baby!”
“Huh?”
Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.
And again.
You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.
In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—
“This is what you wanted, huh.”
Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.
“You gonna be a good little slut?”
Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.
“Then fucking beg.”
He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.
To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.
You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”
“Need you, too.”
He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.
Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.
When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.
Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.
Because his eyes speak volumes.
They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.
But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.
And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.
You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.
“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”
When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”
You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”
“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”
Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”
“Now swallow.”
As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.
“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.
“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”
“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”
Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.
“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”
Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”
When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.
It’s not.
But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.
Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.
“Feel so good—”
When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”
What is he—
You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.
What’s—
Oh fuck, are you on his desk?
Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.
“Yoongi—”
You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.
“Uh uh. Stay like that.”
“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”
“There you go.”
The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.
But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.
You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.
“Goddamn.”
Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.
Oh, fuck!
Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—
“Come here.”
He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.
And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.
Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,
“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”
When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—
You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.
But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”
“Yes!”
“Good.”
He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.
Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.
Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.
It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.
When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.
“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”
“You already fucking know.”
“Show me what I’ve been missing.”
“Don’t fall in love.”
When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.
“Fuck.”
His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.
You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.
Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.
“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.
“It missed you, too.”
Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.
Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.
But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.
“Yoongi!”
“Uh huh.”
Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.
“You gonna come?”
A frantic nod.
“Then come.”
As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.
“Again.”
Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.
Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.
The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,
“Again.”
You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.
Oh, if they could witness you now.
You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Two hearts.
One night is enough.
“So fucking perfect.”
“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”
He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.
Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.
When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.
Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.
It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.
And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,
“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”
Oh, shit!
Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.
This man leaned right into the whole thing.
“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”
“First off.”
“Uh huh.”
God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.
Yeah. Stuff like that.
“I’m her favorite.”
Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”
A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”
Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”
When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.
Does he feel at home, too?
“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”
Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.
Then you pull away.
Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.
“Come here.”
You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.
But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.
“How are you gonna get home?”
Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”
“K.”
“Did I keep you from anything?”
A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”
“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”
“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”
“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.
When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“S’ok.”
“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”
After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”
Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,
“Maybe try that one more time.”
And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.
When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,
“I always do, babe.”
Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.
“Miss you.”
As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.
His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.
“That’s my fault.”
Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”
After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.
“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”
“You gave me tonight.”
When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,
“A little longer is nothing.”
A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.
Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”
Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”
Us.
Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”
Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,
“What’s the fun in telling you?”
“Ass!”
While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.
“We have a game next week.”
As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”
“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”
And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.
What’s he doing?
You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.
When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.
An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.
As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.
You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.
“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”
“Huh? Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”
Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”
He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”
At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”
“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”
“Ah, I see.”
You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.
“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”
“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”
Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.
You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.
And you start to hum.
It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.
You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.
And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.
“Shit, was I too loud?”
He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.
“Not at all.”
So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.
And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.
Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.
When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.
Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.
You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.
For him, you can do anything.
But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.
And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.
“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”
—
—
—
tbc. :)
—
a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?
A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)
A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.
A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!
++
feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like!
⇥ here!
++
more links:
⇥ three tangerines masterlist
⇥ masterlist
#and the wait is finally over sheeeesh!#bts#bts fic#bts imagines#bts reactions#yoongi fic#yoongi x you#btshoneyhive#bangtanarmynet#bts smut#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#yoongi smut#bts fanfic#*latest#*ryenfictalk#ryenwrites#3tan10#i hope y'all are ok with how much is in here hahahah#yoongi
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
📰 | dessert.
i can imagine being woken up at ridiculous hours because carmen needs you to try a dish…anyway that’s what this is + domesticity + husband carmy + soft pregnancy vibes.
short and sweet.
You’re lying half-asleep in bed, vaguely tethered to reality by the distant clanging of pots and pans. It isn’t enough to fully wake you, too comfortable buried under the thick blankets, having finally found the perfect position where your stomach doesn’t seem to get in the way.
Which, lately, it’s always in the way.
The door creaks open, and Carmen’s footsteps are quiet, feather-light. He sits down at the edge of the bed, one hand nudging your shoulder, the other guiding a spoon into a little dish he sits on his lap.
The movement rouses you just enough, gaining the smallest inkling of consciousness. It’s in front of your face and pressing against your lips before the awareness can fully set in, velvety chocolate coating your tongue. The taste is thick, yet not overwhelming, somehow both dense and light at the same time. Maybe some sort of mousse.
“That’s.. yeah, ‘s good..” You mumble, eyes blinking open blearily to twist slightly on the bed, moving to face him. The movement causes your shirt to ride up, not bothering to tug it down, despite the slight chill that spreads over your stomach.
Carmen’s hand finds the edge of the duvet, pulling it to cover your body properly. “Good?” He echos. “Just good? C’mon, baby. Gotta give me a bit more than that.”
You suck in a breath, resisting the temptation to fall back asleep, which has amplified now that he’s finally next to you. It has to be around 1am, at this point. Usually, the baby keeps you up, kicking incessantly, but it seems the little bear has finally quietened down. Not Carmy, though.
“I dunno, Carm. I like it,” You sigh, eyes fluttering closed. “It’s good.”
Without your gaze on him, Carmen looks down at the dish, staring into the ceramic bowl like it’s his worst enemy. About a thousand things run through his mind, all with the primary focus being perfecting the desert.
“Yeah, okay..” He’s resigned, already making a move to try and stand. The motion causes you to stir again, a hand blindly fumbling with his wrist to pull it back in.
“No, don’t take it away. I’m not done.” You protest.
The spoon has already been caught between your fingers, and Carmen doesn’t have it in him to stop you. It penetrates the light mixture with ease, scooping another mouthful of the light mousse between your lips.
“It’s not right,” Carmen would say, sounding so utterly defeated. “You don’t have to eat it.”
You simply shrug, having already gone back for the last little piece. “I wanna eat it. I’m hungry.”
The smile threatens to return to Carmy’s face. With the renovations underway, he’s been missing his time in the kitchen. So, he brings it home. Working endlessly on new recipes, testing menu variations, anything to keep his mind running. Maybe the notion of having a child is starting to freak him out a little, so the work serves as a distraction.
“Hungry?” He repeats, “Weren’t you just asleep?”
“Well, I’m awake now. Might as well eat.
It’s a sound argument, and Carmen knows not to push it. He’s just lucky that you’re always so willing to put up with him like this. So, he puts the empty dish down, taking the spoon and laying it on the bedside counter.
He’ll stroke your hair while you chew the last mouthful, your eyes coming to a soft close. There’s some chocolate on your lip, which Carmen swipes off with his thumb, before sucking the digit into his mouth. It doesn’t taste that bad.
“I’ll join you soon.” He promises, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to the same spot. You give a small grunt in response, wanting to persuade him otherwise, but not having the energy to do so.
You’ve already melted back into the pillow, happy and sated with the taste of chocolate on your tongue.
346 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hahah the moms flirting with Charles. You should write a dad flirting with Ruby’s mom and she tells charles and he’s like wtf
you’re not my dad | charles leclerc
yes, the title is a vine reference 🧍🏽♀️
request #2: Could we please have return of baby leclerc, where she's out with her mum and a man starts to flirt with yn but he won't leave her alone and then Ruby is like she happy with my papa and then Charles notices and gets him to go away, pleasee and thank you, I love your work
Ruby loves Texas. She loves the food, the cowboy hats and boots she got to wear everytime she visited the state, but most importantly, she loves going to the hotel pool on a hot day.
It was a nice sunny day in Austin when Ruby woke up her parents demanding them to take her to the pool. It was media day for Charles so as much as he wanted, he couldn’t join his family for a pool day.
“Listen to your maman, be good and have fun for me, okay?” Charles pressed several kisses to Ruby’s cheeks.
“Okay, papa!” Ruby gave Charles even more kisses.
Charles said goodbye to his family, wishing he could skip every interview, but he couldn’t leave Carlos alone.
“Baby, which swimsuit do you want?” Y/n asked the girl, who overpacked. Ruby had practically stuffed her entire closet into her tiny princess suitcase.
On the bed laid two swimsuits, a pink and purple one piece. Ruby took choosing her swimsuit seriously. Pink was her favorite color, but purple was her mother’s favorite. She ended up choosing purple. After putting on her swimsuit, Ruby wanted to wear her goggles, arm floaties and her donut shaped floaty. She probably looked crazy with all her floaties on, but she didn’t care. She was ready for the pool.
Y/n was also in her swimsuit, but had on a pair of swim shorts over her bottoms. When they finally arrived to the pool, Ruby stopped herself from running since her mother had told her about the pool rules.
They found an empty table to put their bags on. Ruby patiently waited for Y/n to take out the sunscreen. To her it felt like forever, but eventually Y/n gave her the okay to enter the pool.
“I’m going to be a mermaid maman!” Ruby yelled as she jumped into the pool. She doggy paddled all over the pool with Y/n keeping a close eye on her.
“Maman! I can swim from here to there really fast! Watch me! Are you watching me?” Ruby called out to Y/n, who laughed at the little girl. She swam as fast as she could to one spot then turned to look at her mother. She didn’t expect to see a man talking to Y/n.
“Hi, there.” The man said to Y/n. “I’m Matt.” He introduced himself.
Y/n politely smiled and nodded. “Hi.”
“You visiting?”
“Sure.”
All Y/n wanted to do was enjoy a pool day with her Ruby Jules but this ‘Matt’ guy decided she needed some company.
From her spot in the water, Ruby noticed the frown on her mama’s face. She hated seeing her mama upset so she swam to the edge. “Mama.” Ruby spoke.
“This your daughter? She’s really pretty like her mama.” He said with a smile. “Hi, little girl.”
Ruby looked at her mama, who shook her head. But Ruby wasn’t letting this man ruin her day. No, they didn’t deserve to have their day ruined by some stranger.
“Only my papa can call me and my mama pretty. Sometimes my uncle Pierre calls me pretty, but you can’t.” Ruby replied, already giving her famous ‘Ruby glare’.
“Well your papa is a very lucky man.”
“Yeah, and he loves me and mama more! I’m telling papa.” Ruby said in a threatening manner.
“Hold on, I’m just telling your mama she’s a very pretty woman. No need to tell your dad about it.” The man tried to defend himself. From her seat, Y/n was enjoying Ruby make ‘Matt’ wish he didn’t come up to her.
“Papa calls us pretty. You’re not my dad.” Ruby said with the most serious face ever.
Matt, feeling scared for his life, apologized and excused himself. He walked away wishing he was anywhere else at the moment.
Y/n chuckled and got up from her seat. “You’re the best, my Ruby Jules.” She took off her swim shorts so she was just in swimsuit and joined Ruby in the water.
“Want to play mermaids?”
When Charles finally arrived, both Ruby and Y/n had showered and changed into their matching pajamas. They were currently watching The Lorax on the tv.
“How was the pool?” Charles asked Y/n as he joined them on the bed.
“Wonderful. Ruby, want to tell papa your favorite part?” Y/n asked her daughter.
“We played mermaids and I swam really fast and then some guy was talking to maman but I made him go away and then we came here and now we’re watching my favorite movie!”
“What?”
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#charles leclerc#anon#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc one shot#baby leclerc series#charles leclerc imagine
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Jellie tends to be a very curious cat, sometimes. She likes poking her nose into places it doesn’t belong, or snatching things from Scar and Grian when they catch her interest.
Maybe Scar should’ve known better, then.
He sits in his and Grian’s bedroom (it’s been theirs pretty much after the second month Scar moved in), a ring in his hands. The metal is cool against his palm, a soft rose gold. The band isn’t anything special, a simple engraving in it. Scar knew Grian would throw a fit if he found out Scar spent so many diamonds on the ring. So he tried to get something reasonable.
He can spoil Grian with the actual ring.
If he says yes, that is. Just the thought makes a shiver run of Scar’s spine. Is he really doing this? He and Grian have only been together for a year and a half, but Scar just knows that he’s the one. There isn’t any doubt in his mind about it. But does Grian feel the same?
Jellie jumps up on the bed next to Scar, meowing at him. She brushes her head against his arm as she settles beside him, and Scar smiles. “Well hello there beautiful lady. Are we requesting pets?” he teases as he brushes a hand through her fur. She curls up close to him, leaning into his touch. Scar sighs softly, scratching behind her ear. “I don’t know Jellie… do you think he’ll say yes?” he asks quietly. She stares blankly up at him. “Yeah okay, fair enough.”
Past their bedroom, the front door opens and shuts. “Scar, I’m home!”
Scar jumps up, disturbing a content Jellie. He shoots her an apologetic look, giving her one last pet. But the most crucial piece?
He makes the mistake of leaving the engagement ring on the bed.
As Scar walks out the room to greet his boyfriend, Jellie takes to making their bed her own. Yet as she moves, the shiny ring catches her attention. She tilts her head, curious about the shiny object. Sticking a paw out, she swats it. Again. And again. And again. Until the ring tips over the side of the bed, dropping to the floor with a ‘plop.’
Her pupils widen in that playful way they tend to do, wiggling before she pounces.
Oblivious to what his cat is doing, Scar is sweeping his boyfriend into a hug. “How was work?” he questions, looking down at Grian with a curious yet soft gaze.
“Tiring,” Grian huffs, content to melt into Scar’s grasp. He lifts his arms, returning the embrace as he does so. “I had to remake the blueprint at least five times until the guy was happy with it.”
Scar winces, “Eesh. Now I’m kind of glad he only wanted you to meet with him.”
Grian glowers at him in return, though the look is entirely playful. “Yeah, yeah.” He leans up, brushing their lips together in a soft kiss. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“I think I will, thank you.” Scar grins, stealing a kiss. “How does a movie and dinner sound?” He bumps their noses together as he smiles.
“Let me think about it,” Grian hums, booping his nose against Scar’s as he does so. “As long as there’s ice cream after.”
Scar lets out an affronted gasp, pulling away. “I’m offended you think there wouldn’t be ice cream after all!” he says as he walks toward the kitchen. “Go sit! I’ll grab the takeout leftovers.”
Laughing, Grian takes his shoes off and heads over into their living room. He finds Jellie there, playing with something caught between her paws. He fondly shakes his head at her, “What do you have now, miss?”
Jellie looks up at him with a meow as she swats at whatever it is she’s deemed her new toy, chasing at it. However, said mystery object knocks into Grian’s foot, and he gets it first.
Leaning down, Grian picks up what appears to be a rose gold ring. He inspects it in his hand, eyebrows knit together as he does. “Where did this come from?” He blinks at it, looking down at Jellie. “Did you rob someone?”
Jellie sits in front of him, slowly blinking. The perfect picture of innocence.
Shaking his head with a faint laugh, Grian looks at the ring again. His heart skips a beat as he really takes in the detail of it. He certainly didn’t buy it. Did Scar? And if he did then….
Heart a little louder, he turns to his boyfriend. “Hey, Scar?”
“Yes, love of my life?”
“Any clue what this is?”
Scar walks into the living room, the soft crackles of a furnace behind him. He pauses when he notices what Grian is holding in his hand. His eyes go wide, looking a little pale. To the side of Grian, he spots the movement of Jellie’s tail, and looks directly at her. “Traitor,” he mutters.
“Scar?” Grian questions, confused and… maybe a bit nervous.
“Haha uh… any chance we can forget this all happened and revisit it like. Next month?” Scar weakly chuckles, the epitome of nerves as he looks at Grian.
“What’s going on?” Grian’s brows furrow in confusion, a bit of concern leaking into his expression.
Scar knows trying to lie about it is practically pointless. Grian is too curious and too stubborn to let it go. And now that he’s seen the ring… Scar takes in a shaky breath. “Void, alright. Guess we’re doing this.”
He walks over to Grian, “May I?” He gestures for the ring, and Grian slowly nods. He hands the ring over to Scar, who accepts it with shaking hands. “Okay.” Scar sucks in a breath, unbelieving that he’s really doing this right now.
Slowly, Scar drops down on one knee in front of Grian, watching the way the other’s eyes go wide. But something about the position doesn’t feel quite right. Brows furrowing, Scar sets his other knee on the carpet below. “G? Mind kneeling with me here?” he asks, to which Grian nods. He joins Scar on the carpet, kneeling with him as well. “Much better,” he hums, pleased.
“Scar what?” Grian questions, lost and confused, and goodness his heart is beating so fast.
“I uh, I had a whole thing planned out, but Jellie seems to have thrown a wrench into all that,” Scar chuckles. “But it’s fine! I can improvise, who needs a plan?” He does. He needs a plan. Shaking his head, Scar reaches for one of Grian’s hands, grasping it in his own. He takes a measured breath, and begins to speak.
“I love you. More than words will ever be able to describe, G. You’ve done so much for me, more than I think I’ll ever be able to thank you for. You found me on the street, and despite being scammed by me, you still offered me a roof to live under, and a home to heal in.” Grian’s eyes are focused on him, listening with rapt attention. His gaze only worsens Scar’s nerves, heart beating a mile a minute. “You’re stubborn and witty, and sometimes you steal the blanket from me.”
Grian laughs.
Scar loves the sound.
“You don’t let me wallow in self pity, or memories of the harder times. You’re endlessly kind to both myself and Jellie, and everyone around you, even if your patience runs a little thin and you get snippy. We may get into a minor disagreement here and there, but you always come back around to me.” Scar smiles softly at him, so painfully fond and loving. “Back on that world… I never thought I would get to live life again. Or even enjoy the night sky without being afraid. It felt like a part of me was always missing, but I found that part with you.”
“Scar…” Grian trails off, face going red.
“G, you’re my home, my light. I want to spend every day waking up next to you and messing up pancake batter with you,” Scar laughs, the sound wet and shaky. Grian laughs with him, sounding just as affected. “I want to hold you on your bad days, and on your good ones. I want to be there through everything, for the rest of our lives. You’ve reminded me what it’s like to live and love, what it’s like to be me. There’s no one else for me, my heart and souls are yours.”
Scar swallows, holding the ring out to him. “So… will you entangle your life with mine forever? And marry me?” His expression turns bashful as he asks, and Grian is red in the face.
“You…” he trails off, amazed and in disbelief all at once. He looks between Scar and the ring, and he shakes his head. “I’ve been trying for days to find the perfect way of proposing to you, and you go and pull the rug right out from under me,” he laughs. “Curse how perfect you are sometimes.”
“C’mon G, you’re really leaving me hanging here!” Scar whines at him, making Grian laugh all over again.
Grian wraps his arms around Scar’s shoulders, pressing their lips together. “Yes, you spoon. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”
If their neighbors hear how loudly Scar yells, well… it’s a warm congratulations to the newly engaged couple.
Jellie watches her humans cry in each others arms, tail flicking lazily at her side. She better get extra treats for this.
(It’s only later, when they’re sitting on the couch, curled into each other, that Scar realizes what Grian said. He turns to him, “Wait, you were planning to propose too?”
Grian snorts with laughter, “Hadn’t even picked out a ring, but yes Scar, I was.”)
#mochi writes#secret husbands au#scarian#hermitshipping#don’t mind me just sobbing and wailing#they make me SO???????#the softness. I am Melting
340 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey, can i request a nsfw drabble with alastor and a bunnygirl reader with predator and prey? thank you!
yes ofc!! tysm for the request i really love getting them and i'm excited to get one so soon!! i really appreciate it love kisskiss mwah . tbh ikkk you said drabble. But it's kind of more of a ficlet. enjoyyy !!
alastor x bun!reader
cw for nsfw, noncon, fem!reader, predator/prey, blood, n references to vomit (reader doesn't puke tho)
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Running through the pride ring was no different than running through a forest. The streets twisted and turned like forest paths, and the shadowed alleyways resembled the brush shaded by trees. However, unlike the sereneness of the forest, where it was possible to know if you were followed, the loud atmosphere of the pride ring made it impossible to tell if someone followed you. No twigs snapped, no leaves rustled, and the chatter of sinners and demons alike disguised any sound that could clue you into wherever your predator was, and this terrified you. You were scared of the man chasing you; Alastor wasn’t like any other mortal man or sinner you had crossed. He stopped at nothing to have you in your clutches and wanted nothing more to ensnare you in his grasp, like a hunter hunting a poor little rabbit.
It was ironic, you thought. A sinner with deer traits could be such a daunting predator, but you couldn’t think more along these lines, because you knew he was hot on your trail ever since you ran away from him at the hotel. He was in your room, touching your things, your drawer wide open, while he held a pair of lacey panties, pants unbuckled to reveal his length as he rutted into the bundle of fabric. That was your last straw. Alastor had overstepped your boundaries previously; frequently, he would be too close to you, put his hands on you unexpectedly, and seemingly would sniff the air when you were around. But this was unacceptable. Tears had brimmed in your eyes when you ran away from the hotel, feeling invaded in a space that you thought could be your safe haven, but, with Alastor there, it couldn’t be. He was a wolf among sheep and had threatened you long enough. You needed time to decide what to do next and where to go. But most importantly, you needed to get away from Alastor.
After running for what felt like forever, you finally allowed yourself some rest, ducking into an alleyway. It wasn’t clean, by any means, but it was secluded enough to be considered safe from Alastor. Honestly, you would rather brave a random sinner than the overlord. The average crook was nothing compared to him. You heaved a sigh, trying to catch your breath from the running, crouching on the floor. Your sensitive bunny nose quickly picked up on the smell of blood, booze, and bile and scrunched up, but it was just something you’d have to deal with. Your rabbit ears twitch with each footstep that passes through the alleyway, and you dread hearing the sharp click of his heels against the pavement, but they didn’t come. You waited for what felt like an hour, and you finally felt safe. Allowing yourself to relax, you gingerly sit on the cleanest piece of pavement you could find and sink against the wall. You shut your eyes for what you were certain was just a moment, a mere few seconds, but when you opened them, you recoiled in shock.
Alastor was there. Leaning down, sanguine eyes glaring dead into your soul.
“Ah! Cher! I thought I almost lost you! You’re lucky I know the pride ring so well. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found you, dear.”
Your face contorts itself into shock and horror, your ears drop down to the sides of your head, and you glare at Alastor, shoving his face away from yours.
“Leave me alone, Alastor. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Alastor merely offers a hearty laugh as if you’d just told him the funniest joke of the century. He tilts your head up with his microphone, offering you a charming smile.
“Cher! Enough with this outburst! It’s unbecoming of a young lady such as yourself. You belong at the hotel, simple as that. It’s so much more unsafe out here, you know.”
Your gaze hardens, and you flip Alastor off.
“I said fuck off, you creep! Leave me alone! You’re a fucking freak for what you did, and you’re an even bigger freak for following me here! Crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and just die!”
You spit words venomously and scramble to get up, but you don’t get far before you feel the weight of Alastor slam into your back, sending you reeling to the floor. You smell blood; some of it is yours from your now-skinned knees. Squirming, you try to struggle against Alastor to the best of your abilities but can’t make much leeway. His lithe body was much stronger than it looked.
“Let me go, let me go! Whatever you want from me, you can find it somewhere else!”
Tears are streaming down your flush face, which Alastor delights in. He always thought you were so much prettier in distress. Even when the two of you spent nights at the bar, chatting while you had loosened up, your face flush and eyes lidded, you weren’t nearly as pretty then as you were now.
“Dearest, I just want to help you, but I can’t do that until I put a little bit of sense into your silly little brain. You will be coming back with me, you will be staying at the hotel, and you will start being the good little bunny I know you can be, alright?”
You don’t respond; your crying doesn’t permit it, but Alastor thinks that’s okay. Actually, he’d prefer it if you stayed like this. You talked back much less when you were in pain. Alastor’s hands find their way up your shirt and underneath your bra. He tugs on your nipples harshly, raking his nails over what skin he can get his claws on and leaving blood to pool in their wake. Your wails have subsided to sniffles now, seemingly accepting of your fate. Alastor revels in this; the moment prey becomes docile, understanding its place in the world to be devoured was his favorite. With your newfound submission, Alastor strips you of your bottoms and pulls your panties down to your knees.
The location was not optimal, but he didn’t fancy dragging you back screaming and crying to teach you a lesson. Charlie and the rest of the residents would catch on to his actions. No, he needed to teach you a lesson now. Unzipping his slacks, Alastor pulls out his cock, giving himself a few strokes to spread his precum across his length; he thought that was all the prep you deserved. Holding your head to the floor, Alastor slowly pushes his length into your pussy, ears folded as his face contorts in pleasure. He was glad you couldn’t see him like this; he hated losing his composure. Alastor gave you just a moment to adjust to his length, but afterward, he began thrusting with reckless abandon. You cry out. His cock stretching you out hurt, but being fucked so roughly with such little prep hurt worse. Pleasure and pain molded together, the sensation of him stretching you out, hitting against your cervix as he pounded you, combined with the sensation of blood dripping down your skin from the scratches. You whimper and sob, but mixed between your noises of stress and pain, and you can’t help but cry out in pleasure. It hurt, but it felt good. A paradoxical cocktail of your emotional and physical suffering with pleasure poured over you, and you had lost yourself to it. With each thrust, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, and you try to grab at anything for purchase, but Alastor doesn’t let you. He merely yanks at your bunny ears, pulling you back on his dick.
“Fuuck, Alastor, fuck, stop, please. I don’t want this. It hurts.”
You attempt to tell him to try and save your pride, but it does nothing to deter him. If anything, it only turns him on more, causing him to thrust against you deeper, wanting you to come undone on him. He could feel you tightening up, squirming against him. He wanted you to realize your place as a dumb bunny cocksleeve. You can no longer hear static when he speaks, just his raw voice, occasionally letting out a muffled moan or grunt. From the heavy panting behind you, you can only guess he’s close as well. With a particularly rough thrust, combined with his hand coming down to rub at your clit, Alastor makes you cream around his length, and you practically go limp from such a hard orgasm. Alastor uses your body like a sex doll, thrusting into your cunt until you feel him cum inside you. At this point, you’re beyond exhausted and don’t resist, merely dropping to the floor when Alastor pulls out, cum dripping down your thighs and onto the concrete. Alastor quickly fixes himself, tucking his cock back into his pants, and pockets your panties. In addition, he slips on your bottoms, picks you up, and teleports the two of you back to the hotel, to his room. He didn’t want another incident like last time, so he figured if he just kept you here, he wouldn’t have to steal your panties again; he could indulge in the real thing: his favorite little bunny.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#yandere hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader
355 notes
·
View notes
Text
Make a man quiver – Tommy Shelby (smut)
I have to say, I absolutely adore this piece, I hope y'all will love it as much! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: The reader has been hired by the Italians to kill Tommy Shelby, knowing all of his weaknesses for beautiful women. She is a feared phantom, a woman with a high kill streak. But perhaps they underestimated Tommy's hunger for blood and reputation.
Warnings: 18+, smut, public piv, unprotected piv, betrayal, weapons and blood, but a cheeky ending
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (4k words)
“Please, I’m so hungry.” She was kneeling on the ground, eyes staring ahead at the people walking past her. People who didn’t look at her once. People who’d rather laugh about her than give her any of their money. Anger flushed through her whenever they ignored her, not even sparing her a glance as if she was invisible.
“Please,” no other word managed to overcome her lips, unable to beg for things she didn’t truly need. It was a dangerous game, a game that could end with her life on the line, killed by those who forced her to kneel on that very spot. But she had always been fascinated by a good gamble, unable to say no even if she could end up with a bullet piercing her head.
She could still hear the words they had spoken to her, voices dripping with that rich Italian accent she had once loved but now hated. They had forced her to give in, knowing how to get their hands on the woman who was known as the ruthless one, the reckless one, the one even Death feared.
“Fuck, I can’t do this shit.” Her words were met with a chuckle, eyes forced off the ground to meet a pair of bright ones. Arthur Shelby was standing in front of her, hands pushed into the pockets of his trousers, a cigarette between his lips.
“I doubt that’s how you get any money, love.” His raspy words left her giggling, shaking her head with a soft smile he clearly mistook for embarrassment. His bright eyes wandered over her dirty features for a few moments, taking in the torn garments she wore, the bloody wounds gracing her arms. “What’s your name?”
“Mira,” the lie rolled off her tongue all too quickly, (y/n) had lost count on the fake names she had been forced to use – once she had chosen those that had some sentimental touch to them, something to remember those that were no longer part of her life, but by now she chose whatever came to mind first. Her soul had changed, the kind-hearted girl she had once been had disappeared from her, letting go as if she had been washed away by the tide, dragged into the salty ocean without anything to hold onto. Now she was nothing more than the shell of the woman she had been before the war.
“Come, let’s get some food into your body, Mira. I’m Arthur.” He reached a hand out for her to take, pulling her to her aching feet with one tug. Arthur wrapped one arm around her shoulder, keeping (y/n) pressed to his side as he guided her down the street.
This had been easy, almost too easy. And yet (y/n) couldn’t help but thank her lucky stars since this was what she had been hoping for.
“Want to tell me how you got those cuts?” Her gaze found the cuts littering her arms, eyes momentarily growing glassy as she was forced to remember her last interaction with Luca Changretta.
“Listen to me carefully, (y/n),” Luca Changretta had his hand placed on her cheeks, tightly squeezing them to force her to look at him. He was towering over her, with a knife in his hand, seemingly enjoying the way her blood dripped from the shiny blade. “You know that this is payback, don’t you?”
“For what? Not letting you fuck me?” He had first appeared at her house last week, inviting himself in with a sickenly-sweet grin glued to his lips. Perhaps he had hoped that his charm would work on her, perhaps he had hoped that he could fuck her into oblivion and then force her to work for him, whatever it was he had hoped for, it hadn’t happened. Within minutes she had pierced a knife into his thigh, forcing him out of her house with threats rolling off her tongue.
“You know, I was surprised to hear that you were allowed to return to this country after the things you’ve done. Who did you fuck for that to happen?” Luca moved even closer, she could feel his breath fanning her face, making her thrash in his hold. She had never felt fear, and yet she was all too used to the feeling of disgust men like Luca Changretta forced through her system.
“You’re wasting my time here if you want to talk about old times.” Her voice was emotionless, cold eyes staring at the grinning mobster. Two could play this game, a game she had never lost before, no matter how many times knifes had been forced into her skin, cutting her once spotless body.
“You killed my cousin, did you know that? Of course you didn’t, mercenaries never cared about those they killed. But now it’s time for your apology, (y/n).”
“Mira?” Arthur murmured her name, forcing her out of her memory. She had to blink a few times, had to clear her throat before she could speak up.
“You know how it is, as a woman living on the street you’re never safe.” The hum leaving Arthur managed to calm her nerves, hoping that he wouldn’t force her to speak any more lies for at least a few more minutes. She wasn’t a stranger to playing these roles, wasn’t a stranger to the game of fooling men like Arthur, and yet she hated doing this to the family she had always admired, a family she had always wanted to work for.
“You’re not a picky eater, are you?” (Y/n) stared at Arthur for a second as he held open the door to The Garrison for her, waiting for her to enter.
“Because I’m homeless and a beggar?” He choked on his breath, cheeks growing rosy at her teasing tone. The laugh that clawed through (y/n) echoed through the room, forcing eyes towards the two of them. Arthur didn’t reply to her teasing, he only pulled her through the Garrison towards a table where she could spot a few familiar faces, but especially the one she had hoped to cross paths with, Tommy Shelby.
“Here, sit. John, get Mira some food.” It took the younger Shelby brother a moment to rise to his feet, eyes flickering between his brother and (y/n). No words were spoken as John disappeared, allowing (y/n) to relax in the chair for a second before she caught Tommy’s curious gaze.
“We were looking for someone to help around here, eh? Mira’s perfect for the job.” Her pupils grew wider, wondering where Arthur was going with this. Had he already taken a liking to her? Was he always this foolish to invite strangers to work for them?
“And why is that?” Goosebumps rose on (y/n)’s forearms at the sound of Tommy’s rich voice, smoother than the expensive clothing she’d wear at home, wrapping itself around her like a snake slithering up her limbs. He emanate danger, a sensation (y/n) had always found herself addicted to. She’d win this game, even if it meant killing Tommy Shelby.
“I’m a fast learner, and I have no trouble with fighting off drunkards, that’s all it takes, isn’t it?” The brothers laughed in unison, intently studying her as John placed some soup down for her. Her stomach was in knots, begging her not to eat something, and yet (y/n) knew she had to sell her story, hastily shoving the soup down her throat.
“Seems like we’ll have to work on your manners first, love.”
……
“Evening, Tommy.” (Y/n) shot him a quick smile as she walked past him, carrying empty glasses towards the bar. She didn’t hear the soft reply leaving him, didn’t pick up on the smile he wore.
It had been a few weeks since Arthur had first dragged her to The Garrison, clueslessly allowing the enemy to join their forces. Within days she had managed to wrap the Shelby men around her fingers, with a special focus on Tommy. As much as she hated to admit it, her heart skipped a few beats whenever he was close, attention drawn to him like a moth to a flame. A flame she couldn’t kill, needing the light to survive.
“Mira,” he called for her, catching her curious gaze. Smoke left his nostrils as he pointed towards the chair next to him. The Garrison was empty by now, with just the two of them left behind. Slowly she rounded the bar to walk towards him, plopping down in the chair. Tommy reached a cigarette out for her to take, alighting it for her as his piercing eyes burned into her skin.
“Tell me about you, Mira.” He intently watched her as if he could see straight through her facade, uncovering every layer that hid her true identity. But (y/n) didn’t give in that easily, she took a deep inhale, letting the smoke blow out into the barely alight room, her eyes locked with his.
“There’s not much to tell, I lost both my parents before the war, and I have no family left. Nobody was in need for a woman like me, so I had to find ways to survive.” The day she had been invited into the Garrison she had been invited to stay with Arthur for a while, knowing that she had to take on the offer, if she wanted to sell her story. It hadn’t taken her long to move out though, explaining that with the money she was making now she could afford living on her own.
“Well, we’re certainly glad we got you around now.” Her chuckles left Tommy grinning, an unfamiliar sight her heart enjoyed a tad bit too much. Deep down she knew that this was her chance, the moment she had been waiting for. All she had been planning for was getting in a room with Tommy, without any other Shelby’s near. But now she didn’t want to move, didn’t even want to think about killing him, not today. “You’re a distracting sight, Mira.”
“Am I? How so?” She leaned forward, it was a bold move, a move that seemed to do the trick on Tommy. Slowly he cupped her cheek, thumb running over her lower lip. She felt her heart racing, pounding in her chest as if Tommy was about to rip it from her.
“I think you know the answer to that.” Her body begged her to cross the distance between them, her eyes met his for a second, wondering if he’d pull away, but Tommy didn’t move as if he was giving her the chance to break their contact apart. Slowly (y/n) crossed the distance between them, lips meeting Tommy’s for a slow kiss. He tasted of whisky, of cigarettes, and of something she had never got to experience before, of home.
Within seconds Tommy had pulled her into his lap, letting the kiss grow rougher with his hands wandering down her sides. Their cigarettes were long forgotten, burning out while Tommy’s hands disappeared beneath her dress. Moans clawed through her as his fingers found her cunt, groaning at the wetness growing between her thighs.
“Should we do this here?” (Y/n) murmured her words against his lips, gasping as he rose to his feet with her clinging to him. Tommy pushed her down on the table, standing between her thighs. For a second all they did was stare at one another, gazes filled with lust, anticipation, something that made (y/n) forget about what she was supposed to do.
“It’s just us here, love, I wouldn’t let anybody else see you.” Tommy fumbled with his trousers, freeing his twitching cock within moments. Both were too riled up to care about slow touches, needing to feel one another close, buried deep inside of her with his cock stretching her walls. Tommy spat into his palm to lube himself up, and within seconds he had pushed into her.
Both groaned inn unison at the intrusion, not giving them any time to adjust as their bodies begged for more. Tommy fucked her ruthlessly, cock disappearing deep inside of her with every thrust. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, keeping Tommy close as she lost her grip on reality.
“Fuck, Tommy. You’re so big.” The grin he wore had a devilish touch to it, leaving her to wonder if it was truly Tommy who was fucking her or a demon taking on his features. And in that very moment, she began to pick up on the way he was making her feel, something no other man had ever pushed through her.
His fingers found her pulsing bundle, drawing curses from her parted lips as if they were composing a symphony, set on creating the most beautiful sounds. It was a sight so raw, a sight so familiar, both could’t help but chase the release that was about to push through them any moment now.
“Such a pretty sight, it’s a miracle no other man has claimed you.” His rough voice left her gasping, pushed into the open arms of her orgasm. Tommy fucked her through her high, watching her fall apart beneath him with twinkling eyes burning into her skin. He followed her a few moments later, pulling out of her to stain her thighs.
“I guess I’m the lucky man who’s able to claim you, eh?”
……
“I expected better from you.” Luca Changretta’s voice filled her house, drawing a gasp from (y/n) as she stepped into the dark room. She flickered on the light with a snarl leaving her, hand reaching for her gun to point it at Luca. It was a useless threat as he was accompanied by his men, and yet she was tired of this game, of the smugness he emanated.
“You should have known that I don’t do deals.” The chuckle that ripped through the mobster left (y/n) tensing, keeping her distance as she poured herself a glass of brown liquid. He watched her every move, watched her plop down on the couch close to the chair he was sitting in. Their eyes didn’t break contact once, not as she alighted a cigarette, not as he cocked his gun to point it at her.
“I thought you were smarter than that, (y/n). There’s no way out of this for you, but it’ll certainly help my reputation when word get’s around that I was the one who killed the sunflower.” A scoff left (y/n) at the use of the name, a name she had been given years ago, a flower that would always follow the direction of the sun, always relying on the promise of money rather than love and friendship.
“You won’t kill me, Luca. Maybe I underestimated you, you’re tougher than your cousin, I give you that. But you need me, if you want Tommy Shelby dead.” She spoke her words with a grin, a lie that rolled off her tongue all too easily. (Y/n) couldn’t remember Luca’s cousin, a man she had seemingly killed in Italy, a man she had no memory of, washed away by the things she had been forced to do as a mercenary, joining armies all over the continent, hiding her true female identity from the men who blindly trusted her, a snake amongst dogs.
“I want him dead by six pm tomorrow, if you don’t deliver me his head I’ll kill you in front of the whole Shelby clan myself.” Her chuckles were humourless, spluttering out of her with her eyes zoning in on Luca. She could tell that he was spurred on by his fear, filling his every vein like poison. A clear advantage for a woman as ruthless as her.
“Get out of my house while you can still walk, Changretta.”
……
With a yawn leaving her, (y/n) stepped into The Garrison. It was still early, and yet she had expected the place to be packed with people already, those who turned towards a glass of alcohol in the morning hours to forget about the things that haunted them late at night. Yet the place was completely empty as she stepped foot into it.
(Y/n) rounded the bar to place her jacket down, she rolled her sleeves up her forearms to start her work on the dirty glasses that needed a good scrubbing. And yet she didn’t get far, eyes shooting up from the glass to find the Shelby men entering the room. She could instantly tell that something was off, forcing (y/n) to straighten her spine.
Tommy, Arthur and John were studying her, wordlessly letting their eyes wander over her features for a few seconds. Without trying to move too much, she lifted her skirt, reaching for the gun she carried. Soundlessly she placed it down next to her, wondering how this situation would play out.
“Tell us, Mira, how do you know Luca Changretta?” Tommy took a step closer, and another. His brothers followed his every move, not taking their eyes off (y/n) once. Her tongue kissed her teeth as she studied them, weighing her options. She could easily shoot her way out, knowing that she was quicker with a gun than any other gangster she had crossed paths with, and yet she didn’t want to hurt either one of them.
“Who?” Arthur’s eye twitched, he tried to reach for her, spurred on by anger, but Tommy’s hand stopped him from moving, keeping his emotionless composure. Her eyes kept focusing on Tommy’s features, wondering how much he knew, how much she could share without letting them in on her every secret.
“You’re too smart for this, Mira. Is that even your real name?” A sigh left her, eyes fluttering close for a second to collect her thoughts. From the moment she had met Tommy, (y/n) had known that she wouldn’t kill him, not the man whom she had always admired.
“Whisky?” She turned from the three brothers to reach for a bottle, somewhat expecting them to shoot her. But they didn’t move, all they did was watch (y/n) pour them a glass, and one for herself. Slowly they reached for the glasses, but while John and Arthur stared at their glasses, Tommy kept studying (y/n).
“Luca Changretta expects me to deliver your head by six pm, but I think we both know that I won’t do that.” Tommy kept quiet, seemingly pondering over her words as Arthur and John harshly put their glasses down.
“Why would the Italians hire you?” Arthur’s question left Tommy chuckling, a sound that made (y/n) frown. He placed a cigarette between his lips, let his gun disappear, and took another step towards (y/n). With only the bar keeping them apart, she felt herself relaxing, he wouldn’t try to hurt her, but something seemed to hold him off.
“I had my presumptions from the beginning, but you’re good, I give you that, sunflower. How did he find you?” She didn’t pay any attention to the confusion sticking to John and Arthur’s features.
“Don’t call me that.” Her murmurs left Tommy chuckling, a sound that didn’t carry any humour, a sound that made the hairs on her arms rise.
“You are in no position to make demands. You betrayed us, sunflower. But I guess that’s what you do, isn’t it?” Never had she felt this awful for betraying somebody, never had she felt the guilt eating her up the same way she felt it at that very moment. (Y/n) had to avert her gaze, trying to blink away the tears that blurred her vision, she desperately needed to get a grasp, this was unlike her.
“I won’t apologise for trying to survive. If you know of me, you know that there is no way out for me, Thomas.” He almost flinched at the use of his name. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, staring at one another to ponder over their next move.
“Leave us,” Tommy murmured the words towards his brothers. “And lock up, we’re closed for the day.”
Arthur and John kept burning holes into her skin with fiery gazes, but (y/n) didn’t look at them once. All she did was watch Tommy as if he was a bomb about to go off, about to rip her to shreds, aching the same way her heart was now aching. The second his brothers left he Garrison, Tommy reached for his and her glass and the bottle to move towards a table. (Y/n) watched him with weary eyes, waiting for his next command. But all Tommy did was sit down, light himself a cigarette, and stare at her.
Slowly she walked towards him, gun long forgotten as if she didn’t even think of fighting the Devil himself. She drowned the shot of whisky in one go, not reacting to the biting taste she was all too used to by now.
“You were a ghost, a story we told one another. None of us even thought of the possibility of you being a woman, hell, none of us thought that you were real. Nothing more than a story to warn us about who we could meet out there. But after that day Arthur brought you in, I asked around, I’m not as blind as my brothers, I don’t trust strangers, no matter how pretty they are. Luca Changretta may think that his men are loyal, but they all talk for the right price.” He blew his smoke out into the air as if he was preparing for her burning, watching her body end up in the flames he had alighted himself.
“Why didn’t you kill me if you knew who I was?” She leaned towards him, it felt as if he held every needed answer in his hands, everything she had always wanted to know. Tommy Shelby was her mystery, the one to cling to, the one she would go down for, only if he’d ask her to.
“That day I fucked you, you had your chance to kill me, but you didn’t do it. And from then on, I knew you were no threat to me, I knew I could use you to my advantage.” She grew tense as she kept staring at him. This was what she had been waiting for, a chance to work for Tommy Shelby himself.
“I will do it, whatever it is.” His chuckles filled her with excitement, holding still as he leaned towards her just like he had that night he had fucked her on the table. She was eager to please him, eager to pull through with whatever he’d ask her to, (y/n) would gladly add a few more names to her kill list if it meant being close to Tommy Shelby.
“Of course you will. But I need to know I can trust you, sunflower.”
“(Y/n) is my real name.” Not once had she shared her name willingly with others, knowing that giving away her personal information could mean her end. But for Tommy Shelby, she’d share it all, every little detail.
“Marry me, (y/n), see it as an act of faith. And then you’ll help me kill Luca Changretta.”
344 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! So this is my first time ever doing a request so I hope it’s good! But could you do Dogday x Reader/Angel, where Angel gets injured really badly and ends up getting impaled by metal and ends up needing to get the metal ripped out and sewn up?? Maybe dogday could comfort the reader during it?? I’m so sorry if that’s too much!! Okay that’s all really have a nice day/night!
Of course sweetie!
Trigger warnings: blood, injury, near-death experience
Romantic/platonic: unspecified
Requested by: anonymous
Category: angst + fluffy end
Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x injured!reader
Word count: 518
Angelic Wounds
Dogday was forever in your favor, you were his angel and his light. His dreams and his hope, he would be absolutely crushed if anything happened to you.
He was a little ways away from you, hesitant due to a gut feeling but separated so he could scrounge up whatever scarce food there was in this place for you, Poppy, Kissy Missy, and himself but he was more so looking for you three. He found a few things, he got lucky and they were in cans. One of them he was a little scared to bring back since he could tell one of the small ones got its grimy little teeth sunk into it.
The canine was storing the cans in a dingy little bag he found, leaving the busted one to thenside to just hold with his paw in case it was still any good. Couldn't be too picky when you were desperate to survive. He was peaceful until his ears practically shot off his head when he heard a scream that sounded like a bobcat, quickly looking up and looking in the direction it came from. Was it… no it couldn't be you. Right? You always handled yourself so well, it couldn't be you - but it was. He knew it and ran hot on his heels to get to you.
He found you on the floor, sobbing your eyes out with a piece of metal through your arm. You were trying to pry it off but it was heavy and deep, much to you and Dogday’s dismay. Your companion ran over to you in a hurry, panicking and holding you close. “Angel!?” He asked, looking at your arm and carefully resting his paw below the wound. “What happened!?”
“I- I don't know! It just… it just fell out of nowhere and I didn't move in time-” You said, struggling through hiccups and sobs. He nodded and understood that accidents were bound to happen, he carefully went through your backpack and got some bandages. With love and care, he tended to you just as you tended to him once before. He stitched you up, despite your cries and blood touching his fur breaking his heart he persevered and fixed you up before bandaging the stitches. He held you tightly.
While you cried from the pain, he couldn't help but cry too. He cried knowing he could have lost you if he wasn't any faster, but he also cried knowing that if he had stayed with you and listened to his gut to stay near this wouldn't have happened. He carefully rubbed you back while sitting back and having you in his lap. He never wanted to feel your blood against his paw pads, never wanted to see you cry in pain and agony while desperately trying to escape the feeling like a hopeless cat turned into road pudding.
“Shh.. shh.. Angel, it's okay. It's okay now. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you alone.” He cooed, pressing his head against yours with his big floppy ear scrunched between your faces.
A wounded angel could still fly, luckily.
Thanks for requesting!
#poppy playtime#smiling critters#poppy playtime x reader#dogday#dogday poppy playtime#dogday x reader#dogday x y/n#poppy’s playtime x reader#poppy playtime 3#poppys playtime#dogday x you#smiling critters dogday#poppy playtime dogday
244 notes
·
View notes
Text
Be careful what you wish for
Noah Sebastian x female reader
18+
Warnings: Cum play, mentions of spanking, dom/sub relationship, slight humiliation kink and degradation kink (not too heavy) male masturbation, just Noah being a typical brat tamer
So this is kinda filthy even for me ahaha but it’s not massively detailed as it’s a head canon styled piece but I am working on proper detailed works as we speak so hopefully I will get those out soon.
This actually started as an idea from the other fic I’m writing but it didn’t fit into that scene properly so I decided to make it a separate piece so the thought wasn’t wasted haha and fyi the story I’m currently writing has definitely been inspired by the new tour content, that’s absolutely feeding me right now 🥵
•You’ve been playing up all day and winding Noah up in front of people when he’s been working
•Just genuinely being a brat because you found it funny that day
•That’s fine but Noah would 100% punish you for it when you’re alone
•You’d be face down on the counter, underwear round your ankles while counting each spank he delivers
•But what’s one more dig?
•”That the best punishment you got? I’m getting bored of it now”
•Those spanks would instantly stop
•”Is that so?”
•Oh yeah, he’s pissed now
•You’d feel Noah’s grip on your hip tighten and hear the sounds of his trousers hitting the ground
•”Spread your legs”
•Noah would have a deeper growl in his voice, clearly not impressed with your attitude, but that’s ok, he’s happy to take it up a notch just teach you a lesson
•You’d feel his fingers scissor you open with a dark chuckle “bored are we? Do you want to tell that to your dripping cunt”
•That would most definitely pull a low moan from you, now Noah loves dirty talk, but to be that vulgar is very rare, even for him
•You could feel movement behind you and hear the sounds of him groaning and skin slapping on skin
•”So my punishments aren’t good enough eh?…” You could hear his words get caught in his throat, you knew he was touching himself behind you, his other hand now not leaving your hip
•”Well lucky for you…shit….I’ve got the perfect punishment for your cocky little attitude”
•You’d keep your head on the counter, pussy aching to be touched but you know that’s not going to happen any time soon
•“Did I forget to mention….that the guys will be here…any….any minute for the afternoon?”
•Noah hadn’t mentioned that they were all coming round for a gaming afternoon, you suddenly felt a sense of fear at what he had planned
•Noah’s groans became louder as he sped up his pace, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer
•”fuck..I’m gonna cum”
•You’d feel him release onto your heated core, Noah would quickly bring your underwear back up and press the material into your folds, making sure not to let any of his juices slip out down your thighs
•You’re eyes would go wide, a choked moan escaping your lips as you now knew what his punishment was, it felt so wrong and dirty but fuck me were you turned on
•You’d hear Noah fix his clothes and then he’d grab you by your throat, bringing your back onto his chest so he could talk into your ear
•”let’s see how cocky you are walking round with my cum in your pants, and don’t think you can run away and hide baby. You’re going to sit with us until I say otherwise, is that clear?”
•”I’m in a dress, what if it…slips out?”
•You’d receive a hard smack to your ass and then Noah turned you around so he could stare down at you
•”You should have thought about that before you decided to be a brat and telling me that my punishments are boring”
•Noah grips your chin and gives you a hard kiss
•”Be careful what you wish for baby”
•That’s the moment you’d both hear keys in the door and the guys walking in with pizza boxes, Noah pulling your dress back into place and stepping away from you
•You’d do your best to walk normally and act all innocent when everyone started chatting, trying to sit without anything ‘leaking’
•Your cheeks would have a permanent blush for the afternoon
•All the while, that cocky smirk never left Noah’s lips as he stalked your every move
#noah sebastian#bad omens#bad omens band#bad omens cult#noah sebastian davis#dom noah#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian imagine#noah bad omens
243 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
charlegend94
Shock The System
jeunefleur
jeune fleur
velarised-blog
F A H A D
tamitamitami
TAMI♡ 🧁🍧🌼🌸
whendidmythoughtsgocrazy
daydreaming