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romanarose · 3 months

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Misunderstanding

Marc Spector x fem!reader

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Summary: When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.

Warnings: PIV sex, wall sex, oral f!recieving, manhandling, rough needy smut but loving and passionate, anxiety attack, Marc's self loathing but reader adores him. Calling Marc all kinda of cute nick names.

Immersability: Reader is fem, afab. Reader can be largly supported against the wall by Marc's strong arms <3

A/N: Commission done for @minigirl87 thank you SOOOOOOO much for your patience!!! Next time I do commissions i need to not do them right before moving. Left me quite behind. Anyway appreciate you so much!

Support creators! Reblog!

2.2k words

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Chaos made Marc anxious.

So, that’s why you decided to do spring cleaning while he and the boys were at work, hoping to get most of it done before the boys returned from work. What threw all your plans out of whack was a chance spotting on facebook marketplace. The prettiest furniture you’ve ever seen in your life was for fucking free. The owners were cleaning out the house from their mom who just passed, and just wanted the furniture to go to someone who’d love it like their mom did. And boy did you love it. The style was French Louis XVI. Fucking beautiful. So, you were making room.

A lot was going to be given away with permission from your boys, and you’d be doing a lot of reorganizing of Steven’s books. A lot of trash, oh my god so much trash. Marc sure did love take out, even if it drove Jakey crazy. Then your old furniture was hauled out into the street for the garbage on tuesday, or some desperate soul. You hadn’t quite gotten to organizing Steven’s books and papers, but the trash was picked up, floors swept and mopped, and the old furniture was out. You needed to pick up your dream furniture, so you hopped into your car.

Steven was elated he got to go home early. It was only an hour, but that’s an hour more with you!!! You loved extra time with you!! There was a spring in his step, happily humming along to some song on Jake’s playlist on their phone.

Until he saw it.

‘Aye, ¿que es?’ Jak asked, interrupting Steven’s happy thoughts.

Marc. ‘Is that… our furniture?’

“Oh my god…” Steven murmurs, slowing his steps. All their things were on the street.

‘She’s leaving us.’

“Oh, will you calm the hell down.” But Steven was a little nervous. He walks up the apartment stairs, ready to find you and get it all sorted out but… you weren’t there. The place looked so bare, so empty… The pictures on the walls were taken down, all the memories together, clothes were half-sorted in the bedroom and sheets off the bed…

You were gone. You didn’t want them anymore.

Marc took the body, pulling out his phone and calling you multiple times, but you went straight to voicemail.

“She’s done with us” Marc groans, backing against the wall. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

‘Mate, you need to calm down’ Steven tried to assure Marc, but he was nervous too.

Marc slid down the wall, beginning to panic. “Not this again…”

Jake and Steven attempted to tell him there’s another reason, logically.

‘She wouldn't just us… leave us’ Jake insisted. ‘She’s not like that. She’d tell us if there was an issue.’

None of this helped calm Marc, and he mentally checked out, sitting against the wall on the floor staring out the window.

That’s how you found Marc, dissociating and mentally checked out when you got home.

“Marcy Marc? Baby? Are you okay?” You toss your keys onto the counter and approach him, but stop when he suddenly jerks towards you like a scared animal.

Marc looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he scrambles to stand up. “Holy shit, you’re here…” He mutters, dashing over to you. “Baby, whatever it is, I swear to god I’ll fix it-” Marc hugs you so tightly it knocks the breath out of you with the force of him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Normally, you loved his bear hugs, they made you feel safe and oh-so loved, but right now his actions warned you he was upset. You always knew when your man was in distress, even when he tried to hide it. He wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-”

You hug him right back. “Marc, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t do anything wrong.” That you know of, but honestly you couldn’t foresee Marc, Jake or Steven doing anything bad enough for you to be upset about. Only thing would be… Gently, so he knows you aren’t rejecting his affection, you nudge him away so you can look in his eyes. However, you keep hold on his arms. Marc’s love language was physical touch, so you always showed your love to him this way.

“Baby…” You look into his eyes, keeping your tone and facial expressions soft. “Have you heard from Khonshu lately?”

Confusion spreads on Marc’s face, his already large eyes widening. “No! Nonononono is that what this is about? You thought I was with Khonshu again?”

You were confused too. “I didn’t think anything was happening until I came home and you were against the wall. Marc, sweetheart.” You search his face for answers. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m confused.”

He sputters a bit, trying to find the words. “Y-you’re leaving! You’re leaving us…”

You blink at him. “Huh? I’m not leaving you, god Marc, whatever got you this worked up? Sweetie, I’ve never been happier than with you three…”

“The furniture is on the street… Things are packed up… And, and and- the pictures! The pictures, they’re are taken down, our whole life together is off the walls-”

Ah. “Marc…” You realize what happened now. “Oh sweetheart, sweetie pie… I’m not leaving you. I’m doing spring cleaning. Remember, last week we went over what I could give away?”

The recognition slowly starts to spread across his face. “But… the pictures…”

“I took them down to wash the walls.”

“Oh… and the furniture?” It was beginning to click for him. This was all a misunderstanding.

You smile softly. “I found the coolest furniture. Steven will love it.”

He blinked. And again. “So… you don’t hate me?”

Your heart nearly broke at his words. “Oh Marc, no!” You gather him up in your arms again. “My sweet, sweet man I could never!”

You see his lip quiver a bit, but instead of crying Marc crashes his mouth into yours, large hands groping at your body with a fevur, like he couldn't believe you were real, that you were still here, still wanted him.

And he needed you.

“C’mere-” He grunted, gripping your asscheeks and pulling you towards him as he kisses you, mouth claiming yours in desperation.

Instantly you were filled with desire; Marc tended to do that to you. He was so handsome, so kind, so gentle you couldn’t help giving your all to him right away. Marc backed you up against the wall, the hand behind your head preventing you from smacking it against the plaster. He always looked out for you like that. You could feel his hardness as his wide hips ground into you, his plump pressed stomach against yours. You love how he’s softened, still so strong, but the safety of your home and the very idea that he wasn’t on the run and living in storage units… His body felt as safe as his mind did.

Marc’s mouth consumed you, licking into your mouth as his knee rid up between your legs. In loose, thin basketball shorts you felt his thick, manly thighs and sigh and pleasure.

“Marc…” You moan for him, unable to control the sounds of pleasure from escaping your mouth as you work yourself on his body. Hitching a leg up against his side, you cling to Marc for stability as he uses his grip on your ass for leverage, dragging you up and down on him. Marc’s kisses are insatiable, you feel as if he is attempting to breathe you in with heavy pants, kissing your lips and neck. Your face is wet from the open-mouth kisses.

Suddenly, and without warning, just as you are approaching the precipice humping his thigh, Marc pulls away and for a moment you think he got in his own head again, but then you are turned, face pressed against the wall but not painfully. Marc pulls your hips out, bends down to pull down your shorts and fucking picks you up by your pressed together legs to pull the shorts away. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he then kicks apart your ankles forcing your legs open. You aren’t even sure when Marc undid his pants, but before you know it, he is thrusting into your pliant and waiting body.

“M-Marc…” You repeat, his name the only thing on your mind is his name and his cock. Okay and maybe his hand wrapping around your front and snaking up your body. He plays with your grunts, grunting with his breaths hot against your ear and in time to the slamming thrusts of his hips. You brace against the wall, pushing your ass out more to take more of his length inside you.

“Thought I lost you…” He mutters, face tucked into your neck.

“Never, never Ma- AH!” You cry out when he squeezes a tit hard, pressing bruises through your shirt. “You-mmmph-you’re stuck with me.”

He pounds your core, rough thrusts mixed with soft kisses. You tilt your head back, desperate for his mouth, his love, his affection yours. He obliges, always knowing what you need and meeting your mouth to sloppily make out with you like horny teenagers. It was needy, it was desperate, it was Marc’s complete and utter relief that he was not going to be left shattered. He filled you over and over and again, the fat tip of his cock pressing up against that beautiful spot inside you. When you came, it was hard, pulsing on his cock again and again and again. Marc wrapped his arm under your middle as your legs began to feel like jell-o.

“Mine.” He growls, spilling his cum inside you. “Fucking mine. Don’t every fucking scare me like that again.”

You want to tell him you didn’t that he jumped to his own conclusions but you were barely standing when he twirled you around again. Dropping to his knees, Marc looked up at you, large and wet brown eyes gazing at you in adoration. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful…

“I won’t…” You whisper down to his hopeful face. “I promise. I love you so much.”

With a relieved look on his face, Marc smiles at you and god is it nice to see him smile. “I love you too, baby.” With that, he hitches a leg over his shoulder and dives into your pussy. Between his cum and yours, it’s a mess down there and that’s further evidenced by the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his mouth as he sluuuurped up the evidence of your time together. Marc was eager, eating his own cum out of you while keeping your supported against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t let you fall. His tongue swirled against your clit, making you buck against him so one hand pinned your hips to the wall. He ate like this was his last meal, like his salvation came from your pleasure.

When he sucked on the sensitive nub, you cry out his name and dig your fingers into Marc’s dark curls, keeping him close to you. As if he’d ever leave. You were close again, the whirling swirling feeling deep inside you continuing to build like a twister into a tornado as you chant Marc, Marc, Marc like the repetition of a Rosary. His tongue flicked inside you, one hand keeping you upright against the wall and the other playing with your clit, making you come apart directly into his mouth.

You pull on his hair so hard you worry you’re hurting him but the way Marc shoves his face into you even harder spurs you on. You can hear and feel him moaning into you as he laps up your release, a soft mmmmmm reverbating against your pussy and prolonging it as you ride his face. Your left leg is so tired, so sore, starting to wobble and Marc notices as he finally pulls away. Marc helps you slide down the wall, landing you safely on your bottom.

On his hands and knees, Marc Spector crawls to you, kissing your lips tenderly but you can see his own exhaustion too. Cupping his face in both your hands, you kiss Marc as you lay him down on your naked lap. You’re surprised with how quickly Marc’s full lashes flutter closed, his head resting between the crux of your thigh and stomach.

You play with his hair. He seems so tired, today must’ve taken it out of him. After a whole day of work, coming home to thinking you were gone. You know how anxiety can physically drain you.

“That really scared you, huh?” You say, petting him like a cat. You swear you can hear him pur.

Marc talks soft, sleepy, eyes never opening. “Yeah. Thought I lost you… I can’t do that.”

“I’ll never leave you, sweetie. And I’d certainly never leave like that… But I know how anxiety can be.”

His voice was groggy with sleep, quiet and muttered. “Yeah, it fuck’n sucks.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “It does, baby, it does. But I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. Can’t get rid of me if you tried, Spector.”

He hums constantly, and in another moment, Marc is snoring softly. He’s so cute.

Then, he’s snoring loudly.

Why didn’t Steven and Jake snore? Made no fucking sense.

Sighing, you settle back against the wall and maneuver enough to grab your shorts without waking your sleeping, tuckered out little boyfriend. You pull out your phone, take a few cute pictures (some with flowery or silly snapchat filters) then go play Candy Crush. He needed to rest.

Mostly, because he had a long day and was so so adorable when he was sleeping even if he was loud as all goddamn hell.

But also, you still had several pieces of furniture sitting in your car and there was no way you were going to move all of them yourself.

*************

We love a reader who can take care of an anxious baby <3

Thank you so much for reading!!!! This is my first marc, or any moon knight in a few months. I MISSED HIIIIIIMMMMMMMM

My beloved one <3

MY MOON KNIGHT RETURN IS HERE!!!!!!

I got a dark reader x marc coming up IF I OULD EVER GET A GOOD KNIGHTS SLEEP follow @romana-after-dark for that

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screamin-abt-haikyuu · 2 months

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You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!

#wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushiwaka #jealous series #ushijima headcanons #ushijima imagines #shiratorizawa #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #Ushijima x you

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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

Text

what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #wtfgu

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pupcuck · 3 months

Text

BELL JARS AND BUTTERFLIES !

ft. infinite darkness!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. emotional abuse, mom-son incest, power dynamics, sub leon, some references to past physical abuse not explicit tho, few drug references, p in v

note. hai :3 put id leon cuz that’s who i saw but!!! u can think ab whoever u want :3 thank u to @devilmayfuck for proofreading oh my gosh :3 still ignore mistakes bc I tend to make em while formatting! feedback n rbs so appreciated <3

tumblr removes fics that, for example, use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

It’s no surprise that Leon breached contract and put his dick in his shrink. He tends to do these things around women that sound like school teachers. To be fair, the contract wasn’t his to breach, she’s totally taking advantage of his vulnerability or whatever.

“You still live with your mother, Leon?” It’s a statement, not a judgement, he takes offence either way.

“She’s sick,” Leon says, and it’s a bold-faced lie, they both know that she, his shrink, has his file. That you’re well and alive. He doesn’t like to talk about you to her. Mainly because what you have done to him is private, no one else needs to know, it’s the only thing no one knows about him— The only thing that’s not written across his dossier in bright red is that he and mommy have a less than sound relationship. It’s the only thing that is his.

“Sick?” She’s not much older than you, and she’s not as beautiful as you.

“Sick,” He confirms, and it’s not far from the truth. Physically sick, nah, but Mommy might be, she certainly is, the biggest narcissist Leon has encountered in all twenty-eight years of his shitty life, and that says something. ‘Cause Leon works with the US government. He’s owned by them, actually, to say he’s working would be a lie— He’s been owned all his life, first by mommy, then by work, and Leon has started to think it’s always going to be this way. That it’s okay because he doesn’t have to dissect, ache and hurt like he does when he’s thinking.

When she tries to probe further, as it is her job, her duty, in the same way it is Leon’s duty to save the world on any old Monday, he leaves. The apartment is his by lease, but Leon has never stayed long enough to call it a home, he’s never considered it anything more than where you are.

His fist knocks against the lacquered wood, and you answer a minute or so later. It doesn’t suit you. Trying to fit in with all the D.C career women, prim and polished and intelligent, that’s just not you. At your core, mommy is trailer trash through and through. Your smile is artificial, and your nightgown is too, it’s ill-fitting, the only thing you’ve worn well is his father’s anger. Leon thinks that if he wasn’t so full of the milk of compassion, whatever it is Lady Macbeth said, he would help you out. Show you what you’re truly worth. Unfortunately, all Leon would like, all he has ever wanted, is his mommy.

“Leon,” Your concern comes sparingly, so he takes what he can, head dropping to your shoulder. He melts. You’re about as friendly as a loaded gun, but Leon’s got suicidal tendencies and all that jazz. “Baby, what happened? You look so thin, my goodness, you must weigh less than me.” It’s true, looks like he weighs seventy pounds soaking wet. Skin stretched thin over his bones. Teetering from left to right on ankles so thin they’re ready to snap. “What’s this? Looks expensive.” Your eyes sparkle as you take in his appearance, tracing the fabric of his Armani tie with tenderness you have never given to him.

“Ma,” Leon mumbles into your neck, he stumbles past the threshold and the door clicks shut behind him. All he wants is a kiss or two.

“Leon,” You say his name the way you did before, “That’s not my name, darling, you used to be such a good boy.”

“Mommy,” He corrects himself, it’s always been mommy and no one else, “I’m sorry for— I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s not your fault, baby,” Whether he comes or goes, you don’t care, your flippant nature drives him insane. “You’re too much like your father.”

He is not. If Leon was anything like that man, more scum than blood and flesh and bones, your face would be in the concrete. But Leon is your son, and he is who you’ve made him to be. Cowardly. “I’m sorry,” The words dry up in his mouth when your nails rake down his clothed chest, a soft whine slips from the base of his throat, like he’s a dog. Then you scratch behind his ear, and he really is a dog, tail between his legs and everything.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Mommy says, and you pout at him— Did you get your lips done? The money wired over to your account is for necessities. He’s a civil servant, there's nothing classy about that. You piss him off. You do. But you’re his mommy, and he loves you.

The bed smells like you, it was his once, but you take over every aspect of his life. Eat away at any part of him that isn’t appropriate by your terms, a vetting process harsher than the DSO’s. Now Leon’s here, faced with the same hole he crawled out of. The same hole he wishes to crawl back inside. It was safe in there. Warm and quiet. Darkness cradling him like you never have. The one place in which he cannot move, speak or be. The closet he can get to that is stuffing his dick inside.

“Outside clothes on my bed,” You tut, lifting back the covers so you can undress him, “What’s this?” In your hand is an orange tube that you’ve swiped from his back pocket. Leon blinks as you squint at the label. “Oh, darling, you don’t need these, let mommy keep them safe, alright?” Leon nods. That was a new prescription, paroextine, fluoxetine made him a smidge less suicidal, meaning instead of wanting to drive his car off the side of a bridge anytime he got in, he simply drove without a seatbelt in hopes of being crushed to death by a thirty-two tonne truck. Natural selection or whatever. Side effects were shakes, to the point where Sherry was worried he went and got himself put down in the Guinness World Records Book as the youngest recorded case of Parkinson’s disease.

“I need those, ma,” His voice breaks when you tuck them into your bedside cabinet, facing him with your beautiful, cruel smile.

“You don’t need them, Leon,” You gesture for him to come closer, he does, presses his face into your tits, and lets you tell him what’s right and wrong. When it’s coming from you it will always be wrong, but he’ll listen anyway. “It’s not real, baby, you know that, don’t you? I thought you were smarter than this— Shouldn’t be wasting all your money on therapy of all things, I mean, you go to talk for an hour and that supposedly makes everything better?”

“Mm,” Leon makes a noise that is both a grunt and a hum. Please, for the love of god, shut up and get him off— Do something. Hold him. Comfort him. You’re his mother.

“Then they want you to take all these pills-“

“They’re meds, ma,” He corrects for the sake of his— Well, for the sake of nothing at all. Not his ego, not his dignity, they have been depleted completely.

“Meds, huh? You can get addicted fast, and then next minute you know, darling, you won’t be able to function without them- You’ll be like a zombie.” You kiss the top of his head, cooing softly when he raises his head to look up at you like the sad, wet dog he is.

“It’s not crack, ma.”

I know you wish it was.

For an indolent lady who spent half her time doped up on what could only be described as sludge, putting morphine in his milk bottle, you do talk a lot of shit.

“Hah,” Your face changes, you laugh anyway, “You’re so funny, Leon.” You tell him, and he thinks, obsessively, that he would do anything to hear that laugh again.

“Thanks, ma,” Leon’s unrest is mollified by the featherlight touch of your hand on his bare chest, your nail drags down his sternum, as if you’re splitting him in half. It digs into the toughness of his abdomen, he squirms, “That feels weird,” He mumbles, unable to voice out his dislike properly.

“Leon,” You sigh heavily, heavier than his cock in his briefs, “You don’t feel anything, my sweet thing, you’re all empty inside.” He’s a bell jar waiting for its butterfly.

“My poor baby, look at you, can’t do anything without mommy.” Without mommy Leon doesn’t know how to be a real person.

“Can’t eat,” You trace his ribs, sticking out in odd angles through a yellowed layer of skin, “Can’t sleep,” The hollows of his face, his sunken eyes, they tell you everything, “Can’t even breathe without me, can you Leon?” Without mommy he has to be kicked in the gut so his lungs remember what it’s like to breathe. He has to constantly be on the verge of death to know what it’s like to live. “It’s so tiring, darling, I’m too old to be taking care of you.”

“Mommy,” Leon pleads, helplessly, the only manner in which he can behave is helpless.

“Baby,” You toy with his waistband, “You need mommy to help you feel, don’t you?” Feeling should be innate to a human being, shouldn’t it? “Even when you were a baby, Leon, you only cried when mommy did, I used to think it was sweet, but now, darling, it’s gotten a little old.”

Leon whines softly, animal-like, caught by the ankle like a hunted stag, “I’m sorry, mommy— I can’t help it.”

“Oh, it can’t be helped, Leon,” Mommy says impassively, because it is such a chore to jerk off your mentally stunted almost thirty-year-old son. It’s not his fault. He didn’t choose to be this sex-mongering freak that needs to be punished to get off, to not feel ill— To be alive. You started it, and Leon’s sure you’ll end it. Brought him into this world, and you’ll take him right back out of it. At the drop of a hat too.

Your nail, red and glossy and a tad too sharp, presses into his leaking slit. One hand curled around his jaw, the other down his pants. You fish his cock from his boxers, “Mommy was waiting for you,” That makes his chest ache, knowing that he had crossed your mind even once for just a split second, god, he could die a happy man, “Every time you leave I get so worried, I start thinking, well, gosh, how is my Leon doing without his mommy?”

Bad. He does bad in general. Around you it’s bad. He is entirely bad at all times, at every minute, every passing second. With you it’s less bad.

“I just miss you,” Leon says, helplessly beyond help.

“All the time?”

“All the time,” He agrees.

“Oh, baby,” You coo.

“Do you… Did you miss me?” He asks, breathless, twisting in your grip like he’s fitting. Your touch is a million pinpricks on exposed nerves. There's no answer, you just stroke his dick instead, and his moan shatters like an ice fractal. Leon wants to ask and beg and demand— He turns stupid too quick when you cup his balls, squeeze ‘em hard.

“So noisy,” Mommy spits on her palm, real classy, a bit of your whore heritage comes out— See that, it’s a real Kennedy move, dad would be proud. Then you get his cock nice and wet, pumping his shaft as he leaks through the gaps in your fingers. “My sweet boy, you used to be so cute. I miss when you were blonde— It happened to your dad too, it’s a shame.”

“Sorry,” Leon says as if it is his fault natural progression took place, his hips bucking upwards into your fist, schlick, schlick, schlick.

“Well, there’s no need to be sorry about it, you can’t do anything about it, Leon,” Well, at least you’re sane enough to know that, “You know what you can do, darling?”

He shakes his head, abs contracting, balls tightening, ready to blow—

“Clean up before you come to see me,” Your hand is gone, his dick twitches like there’s a parasite inside of it waiting to burst out, “I’m not stupid, Leon,” Your palm sits on his cheek, looking at his stubble with distaste, “And you should shave, look too much like your dad otherwise.”

The scruff is purely out of neglect for his appearance. Leon has never put much thought into it, no one’s ever complained, he’s fuckable. Very fuckable. So fuckable— It’s just you. Mommy says and Leon scrambles to do.

“Off you go then,” You shoo him away, force him to pick his discarded clothes off the floor, he tosses them in the laundry basket. His shrink left the print of her brown foundation on his collar— That’s what you meant by clean up.

In the bathroom cabinet he finds a packaged razor covered in a film of dust. His hand is shaking, nicks his chin once, the sting is not half as bad as your touch. When Leon returns, the nightgown is off, folded neatly on the side, he almost trips over getting to you.

“Mommy,” Leon mumbles around a mouthful of tit, like a proper stupid baby, dumbed-down to fit mommy’s taste.

“I know, baby,” You kiss the crown of his head, stroking over until your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Oh, there is just nothing inside of you but that big ol’ heart, huh?” It’s true. He’s empty but his heart. A heart that turns on its hind legs, rolling over onto its back for mommy and mommy only.

Leon hums, suckling on your nipple like he’s going to get milk out of it. “Can I—“ Leon lifts his head, ducks back down to avoid your scathing gaze.

“Can you what, baby?” You thumb his bottom lip, nail grazing his teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” He says, because he would like to fuck you.

“That’s not how you talk to mommy,” You go to push him off, but Leon shakes his head, and he is stronger— He is, he pins you down, presses his face into your neck. An apology that you accept.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” He’s trembling, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, didn’t mean to talk like that— I’m sorry, please, can we-“

“Fine,” You cut in, and he knows that mommy is a slut. More so than him. That you want it just as bad, you just like playing games.

Leon’s lips part when the tip of his fat cock sinks into your heat. He wishes that your hole would gape like the maw of a beast and swallow him up David Cronenberg style. Wouldn’t that be so fun?

There’s a falter in your breath when he bottoms out with a squelch. You try to be this way, so unaffected, but Leon knows that you’re a glutton for cock. Not his alone, which crushes him, any old dick would do for his mom. It’s how she got by way back when.

“I love you,” Leon moans into your mouth when let him kiss you for the first time tonight, he savours it, lets the taste linger, “I love you, mommy.”

You loop your arms around his neck, pull him closer so his cock is deeper, hitting your cervix with the fat head. The most he can do in your grip is move his hips back and forth shallowly, never allowing more than an inch out of your sweet cunt. It’s suffocating and yet he loves it. Your love is a cage. Contains him. Leon licks the droplet of salty sweat that trickles down between your tits, he spurs his hips forward, fucks you with all that he’s got— This is all he’s good for, just good to give you your fill of dick. That’s why you had a son.

“You can do it better than that, Leon,” You’re panting, eyes glassy as you smile your gorgeous smile at him, “I know you can.”

With a grunt, he fucks you with fervour, balls slapping against your ass, all the nasty shit you love. His dick jumps inside of you, and you gasp, biting down on your tongue as he slams into you once, twice, thrice— Oh, it's so over. Leon can’t help it. Mommy’s pussy is so warm, so hot and wet and tight. Your disappointment is tangible. No need to hide it.

We can work on that, his shrink usually says to mask her annoyance at his premature ejaculation.

Mommy just shakes her head while frowning.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Leon’s body jolts, hips still moving despite the oversensitivity, his cum makes your cunt sloppier. He fucks it back into you like the filthy boy— man he is, so set on making you come undone that it comes across as a little freakish. Like he’s in a trance or some shit. “I’m so- I’m so sorry, mommy— Didn’t mean to— Fuck, I’m sorry, sorry—“

“Leon, stop that,” You place a hand on his chest. He stops. Leon is good at that. Taking instruction no matter how life-threatening, no matter how embarrassing, he’ll do it to be worth something.

“I’m so sorry,” He croaks, truly humiliated by his dick’s lack of selflessness. Shit just cums without Leon telling it to do so.

Mommy pats his head, “It’s okay, baby, you’re only a stupid little boy, aren’t you?”

Leon nods. Mhm. Mhm. Yup. Yup. That he is. Mommy’s stupidly depraved little boy. Just makes sense.

God, yes. “Yes, mommy,” Leon finds himself face to face with your cunt. One that popped him out. A well-beaten yet pretty pussy, because all of you, to Leon, is beautiful no matter how worn out. He parts your cushioned lips, teeth tugging at your labia as he dribbles his spit over your fat pussy. His cum sticks to your inner-thighs, a shiny trail that dries up before he can lick it up and spit it back onto your puffy cunt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at his hair till he’s sure the roots have weakened and now he’s even more prone to male pattern baldness than he was before. Leon focuses his attention on your clit, it’s small and fleshy on the tip of his tongue, the more he sucks the more you drip drop and fill his mouth with your slick. Crazy that is. The clit. It’s just a gift that keeps on giving. And it's good both ways. Leon gets to quell that urge, the sucking on a tit urge, and mommy cums so hard her thighs snaps shut around his head. Your back bows off the bed, and god dammit is he proud.

With the lower half of his face covered in your wetness, Leon re-emerges to kiss you. “That’s enough, darling,” You tell him after the fifth and final kiss. He holds onto it. He just wants you, his mommy. Is it so bad to want?

“I love you, mommy,” Leon says for what might be the third or hundredth time of the night.

“I know, darling,” Your nose bumps his, “I did miss you, Leon, if I’m being honest.”

“Really, mommy?” His heart skips a beat or two. God, it might’ve fucking stopped. Then he’d just be a doll of some sort. The rarest collectors doll that mommy could put in a glass case and show off and dust off— Well, to think she’d care enough to dust him off, Leon has a bit of an overactive imagination.

“Really, darling.” Mommy nods, and he’ll take it. He’ll take it and treasure it.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil angst

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absolutebl · 3 months

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This Week in BL - I'm DELIGHTED by so much goodness, also I lust after a boy's robot's pants

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 11 of 12 - I support the fact that the producers seem to have decided that even in uniform Yai never needs to wear sleeves. Hear hear.

No sleeves for Yai ever again!

On the other hand, why doesn’t anyone ever wear gloves? Going around touching evidence all willy nilly like that.

No to sleeves. Yes to gloves.

People. Sheesh. Get with the program.

Anygay, this is such a fun show. I could watch 50 episodes of this abject nonsense. I’m sad it’s gonna be ending. And I don’t say that often about Thai BL.

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 12 of 14 - Oh has Jeff been kidnapped again? Here, let's throw fruit at Babe and think about it for a bit. Tra la la. Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 9 of 12 - They are such very good boyfriends. Also, this is a ton of kissing for OffGun. I’m at a loss as to how they are going to turn this into a decent 12 ep show. Unfortunately, I’ve foresee it going off the rails - pacing seems off.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - We have our little No Comebacks twist. The sides are growing on me, but now the mains are boring me. The sudden gun-toting new characters are just weird. It’s like they took the script and just threw it down a staircase, gathered it back up again, then filmed that.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Fueang is an actor in the midst of crisis and scandal. Normally I don’t like Thai BL when it’s tackles celebrity and this is... yep, the same. Our actor is pitted against an older worried nerdy app developer, Krom. And I feel that dynamic - hyung romance, jock/nerd? Very nice. But it’s also very Star Hunter. Never met a trope they didn’t wanna do a million times over - in the very first episode. Also I think I’m not a fan of the actor playing the lead.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 24fin - The blond who comes to get his hair shaved looks just like Fluke T (SOTUS et al). And even more like him after the shaving (My Bromance et al). Is that him? MDL doesn't say.

Anygay... something something: Orphan. Cancer. Kisses. Dream. Death. 'Bout what I expected. 2/10 even with a decent kiss I don’t do dream sequences and I don’t like death in my BL

All in all, I’m relieved that that’s over. The series is a slog. And in general I don’t recommend it. I plan to promptly forget its entire existence.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love For Love's Sake (Korea Weds iQIYI) eps 3-4 of 8 - There is so much to adore about this show. The two younger guys who are suddenly in competition for the one older one. You know hyung romances are my favs. A hyung love triangle? COME ON. Also, I got to say this one’s giving me second lead syndrome. I do love me a brat. Add in all this on honorific play and linguistic flirting (as their should be in age gap). This is just THE BEST show.

Look I gotta say this: the "Who did this to you?" trope (AKA who hurt you?) is the single most popular romance trope right now, remarkable to see it turn up in a BL. And pleasing. Trust Korea to be ON TREND. It's their national agenda. *respect*

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) eps 1-2 of 6 - From Fuji TV (who brought us the Pornographer series) adapted from Mayo Tsurakame’s manga, production team includes Tadaaki Horai (My Love Mix-Up!) and Takeshi Miyamoto (scriptwriter for Old Fashion Cupcake). Hiro’s so stressed at work he barely has time to eat so he passes out on the sidewalk. An unfamiliar face saves him and insists that they once promised to marry each other.

Ready?

Oh I fucking love it. Sullen, out gay, younger seme with serious grumpy overprotective tendencies and beautiful possessive cat eyes? Well, it’s not dimples, but it’s still my catnip. Also they are moving very quickly. Hand jobs already? + dub con seasoning? Say it with me everyone:

Oh Japan, must you?

Apparently, you must. And I must enjoy it. Carry on.

Please reread those producer creds and understand what we are in for. Okay? I would urge you to avoid this one if you get squeamish when JBL does what... JBL does.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) eps 1-2 of 10 - I really enjoy the character of an OCD intellectual automaton professor, contrasted to a warm and sunshine actual robot. Out the gate, this is oozing Taiwanese domesticity, we can only hope they juice it with their usual standard of heat too.

All puns aside: It’s charming and I’m charmed. Does Taiwan finally have another winner on its hands?

I do adore Taiwan's aesthetics: The house designs, the suit designs, the human designs. I wouldn't say no to the robot’s pants either. Very cool. Can I order them in black?

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - The birthday confession was a bit much. But I love how mature the reactions were. It reminded me a little bit of I Cannot Reach You. Always a good thing.

Girl: I like you.

Sakae: sorry, not intersted

Girl: what am I lacking?

Sakae: a dick

What you mean it didn’t go that way?

Happy Ending (Korea Tues YT) 2 of 3 - Oh it’s lovely, exactly as I expect from Strongberry.

I gotta say all of the above are pretty neck & neck for top spots for entirely different reasons. BL is seriously giving right now!

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 8fin - In the end this is mostly a piece about courage, and the rewards and disappointments that being courageous entails. Sadly, I personally didn’t have the courage to enjoy it. Featuring a chaos nugget bad boy student who falls madly in love with his teacher, this should’ve been My Thing. But Japan failed me. It happens sometimes. The leads had no chemistry, and the age gap rather than being a narrative driver and source of conflict, was just ignored. 7/10

It's Done

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone got a link?

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - Is TRUST Entertainment bringing us the first ever Burmese BL? I don't know if it's really the first, but @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch through.

The Whisperer (Thai Horror) - @all-you-had-to-do-was-neigh commented with the following: "MASSIVE content warning for extreme ableism, homophobia, and rape plots done for shock value. I don't recommend it, and if any of your followers decide to watch it proceed with caution."

So... yeah, I won't be watching it.

It's Airing But...

[NO INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 12 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) 12 eps - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still Coming in Feb

2/17 A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - Khonprot, a third-year head hazer of the engineering faculty, has a secret crush on Pluem, a tsundere fourth-year head hazer. Over the years, he's seen Pluem cycle through many girlfriends. Recently, after a public breakup, however, Khonprot thinks maybe a boy has a chance.

2/24 Unknown (Taiwan Youku) 12 eps - Older brother tough guy criminal breadwinner looks after his sister and defacto adopted little brother. Little bother falls in love with him and is sent away after a stolen kiss. But when he comes back…

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

GMMTV is officially stalking me.

I do love OffGun's particular brand of domesticity. It's fun that they and TayNew are both getting to be so soft on our screens. It's very comforting, like a family favorite warm toddy. (Cooking Crush)

Korea, what's gotten into you? Are you feeling okay? Such bold weaponized gayness isn't like you at all. (Love for Love's Sake)

The Sign, forcing me to ask the eternal question.

I LOVES THEM YOUR HONOR. (Pit Babe)

(Last week)

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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

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One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader

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geppettospuppet · 6 months

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pino affection hcs<3

a/n: two hc posts in a day bc i'm insane I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! ok hope u sillies enjoy

ok remember how i said in my last post pinocchio would be gentle?

OWIRJALDJJRAAAAHAHAHHEJAJAJA *EATING SHEETMETAL*

yeah so anyway that 100% includes how he interacts with his lover

actually, pino would go out of his way to learn to become more gentle and empathetic for the person he developes feelings for (once he learns what empathy is ofc)

because he isn't very vocal, don't expect him to say "i love you" too often

i mean HE WILL!! but with the way his mind works, he'd rather just show you that he loves you through actions

one of the biggest things for p is quality time

i've seen some people on here have the reader read stories to pino and oh my gosh i absolutely love the idea

not only would he listen to you read stories to him, but he would also just be a great listener in general

whether you're telling him about your day or ranting about a pet peeve

he will always listen to you intently because well!!! he loves you and you could never annoy him

not that pino gets annoyed often... unless it's at gemini...

another thing i can see that pretty boy doing is kiss his partner periodically without warning

and he will do it EVERYWHERE

be prepared for surprise kisses

but pino isn't the type to be aggressive about it at all. it's more like... you'll be doing something mundane and p will just come up and kiss you softly on your head/hand/cheek/lips/ect

tbh this is giving me a oneshot idea

he also loves to cuddle, but was super hesitant to do it at first because he's so heavy that he's nervous you'll just feel uncomfortable:(

but over time i can def see him crawling into bed with you and snuggling after you gave him a talk about it

"pino you never make me uncomfortable when you cuddle with me!!! now get in bed!!!" and he just obeys and the topic never gets brought up again

also, i hope you're not freaked out by people staring at you

because tbh... pino would absolutely stare at you intently over everything you do

but the boy is just so enamored by you and your beauty HE JUST NEEDS TO LOOK AT YOU ALL THE TIME!!!!

im sorry he's kind of a weirdo </3

also? because he's learning what it means to be human what better way to do it than to just watch it happen in real time!! and from his favorite person at that!!!

another thing i can see p doing is giving you random things he finds while adventuring

sometimes they're really cool things like extra parts from a giant puppet he fought!!

other times... it would be trash

but nevertheless, you still accept it because it truly is the thought that counts

and if it's cool to him and brings him joy, it brings you joy too!!

overall this boy just adores you and and would give you the world if he could. you're just so delicate and precious to him💞

#blushing and giggling as i type this #hes just so dreamy I CANT!!#gentle lover pinocchio best pinocchio #lies of p #lies of p headcanons #lies of p x reader #lies of p imagines #pinocchio headcanons #pinocchio x reader #pinocchio

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redclercs · 11 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

vii. all of my enemies started out friends

— the one where you get the sense you've been betrayed.

warnings: death threats, foul language, a panic attack. 2.7k words. (+written articles) not proofread whoops.

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

WELL, all of our doubts have been cleared, here is the reason as to why our ex favorite couple called it quits months ago. Thank you to our anonymous source for spilling the tea!

First things first, let's not lie to ourselves, we all thought it had been Aidan Kim who had finally dumped y/n's ass for good. But as it turns out, he wanted to keep her forever? Aidan, boy...

Anyway, one night in February (ehem Valentine's Day, so cliché) he dropped down on one knee, popped the question with a beautiful Tiffany's ring and... Y/N SAID NO! Insert gasps here.

Without a good enough reason to justify her denial, y/n immediately ran to the opposite coast, where she currently resides with best friend, beauty guru and influencer Victoria Presley.

RELATED: Victoria Presley inaugurates first 'Presley Beauty' store in Beverly Hills.

Our source also confirmed y/n's blooming romance with Formula 1 pilot, Charles Leclerc.

"They are seeing each other, yes," the source said, "y/n doesn't want to call it a 'thing' since she's probably going to get bored of the poor guy.''

Well, there you have it. It looks like y/n's only talent is being a maneater. Somebody warn Charles Leclerc he's just piece of meat in the eyes of y/n!