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gubsbuubs · 3 months

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Friendly Cupid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, slow burn? smut, creampie.

Summary: Despite their closeness, Y/N and Spencer's relationship always stayed within the bounds of friendship. That's until a very fateful Valentine's Day, when a friend decided to play cupid.

A/N: Hi my loves! The "Friends to Lovers" trope won the poll, thanks to your votes. Any thoughts or suggestions for what's next? I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

My requests are open!

English is not my first language.

The team basked in a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as we settled into our seats on the jet, heading back home after successfully closing another case. The subtle hum of the engines seemed to echo the collective satisfaction that enveloped us.

We had just finished a case where the unsub targeted individuals with a deep passion for books. Each victim was chosen based on their preference for a particular literary work. The killer orchestrated scenarios inspired by famous novels, challenging us to decipher the connections between the crime scenes and the literary references.

From my seat across from his, at the meeting table in the Nevada police department's, I observed Spencer in awe. His deep concentration, the way his fingers danced over the pages, and the thoughtful furrow of his brow—he looked so handsome, absorbed in the task of perusing a pile of books that would have taken me at least two years to read.

I cherished watching Spencer at work; his intellect, passion, and dedication were captivating. There was an undeniable admiration that had grown within me as we spent countless hours in shared pursuit of justice.

I vividly recall the first time our connection became something more. After a grueling case left him drained, slowly succumbing to fatigue, his head found refuge on my shoulder during the flight back. It was an unexpectedly intimate encounter—his tousled hair brushing against my neck and the faint scent of lemon shampoo lingering close to my nose. Though innocent, the closeness left an indelible mark, and often I think about the weight of his head resting against me.

Fast forward to another sweet moment; it was forever engraved in my mind when I first noticed that he cared for me. Spencer and I were staked out in a park that an unsub used to frequent in Boston. The autumn winds whispered through the colorful foliage, and the chilling breeze made my arms shiver. It was getting cold, and I scolded myself for not bringing my jacket. Spencer, ever observant, noticed how I hugged myself for warmth and asked, "Hey, are you cold?"

"What? No, it's just a bit chilly, but I can take it," I chuckled, my teeth almost clacking against each other as I shivered.

"I can clearly see you're cold, Y/N."

"Okay, fine. I may be a little bit cold; we left in a hurry, and I forgot my jacket," I admitted.

Without hesitation, he took off his FBI jacket and handed it to me. "No, Spencer, I can't accept this. If it's cold for me, it will be cold for you too," I protested.

"Compared to men, women have less muscle, which is a natural heat producer. They also have 6 to 11 percent more body fat than men, which keeps the inner organs toasty but blocks the flow of blood carrying heat to the skin and extremities." He started to ramble while holding the jacket in front of me.

So I gave up, not wanting to hear him talk about this for the rest of the night, and accepted his offer. As the jacket touched my body, I could still feel his warmth, and the scent of his perfume enveloped me. His tall stature made the jacket too big for me, and I struggled with the oversized jacket's zipper. Looking down as I tried to zip it, I felt his hand on mine. "Hey, come here! Let me help you." I looked up to meet his beautiful brown eyes as he held his gaze on mine. His gentle hands zipped up the jacket. "There you go; now you'll feel warm," he added with a sweet smile.

We had a connection—an undeniable force drawing us together. For example, with Spencer and I, the casual "sorry, Y/n, passing through" was never just a phrase; it accompanied the gentle press of his hand on my side.

When shared laughter ensued, it almost always led to a playful nudge against my shoulder, a light and affectionate gesture.

And there were times when Spencer would reach out with a reassuring touch on my arm during tense discussions or a challenging moment. His fingertips, feather-light yet grounding, conveyed a silent reassurance that we were in this together.

I’d like to think that our connection extended beyond the realm of solving cases and catching serial killers, finding roots in those quiet spaces between words, because unspoken sentiments resonated louder than any conversation we had.

These simple and innocent touches left me curious, especially considering Spencer's general aversion to physical contact, often sidestepping handshakes. Each touch, though understated, carried a significance that lingered, prompting me to ponder the depths of our friendship.

Yet, somehow, we were never more than friends. Perhaps because of the lingering fear of disrupting the delicate balance we had, I hesitated to act upon the emotions that quietly blossomed within.

So, Spencer and I stayed comfortably within the boundaries of friendship, keeping the unexplored depths of our connection confined to the realm of what-ifs and maybes.

Rather than risking it all, I chose the simplicity of silent observation and opted for the quiet intimacy of just watching him while he worked. There was an unspoken fascination with witnessing Spencer's mind at play.

The breakthrough came when Spencer uncovered a pattern in the victims' book preferences, his face lighting up at the realization. The Unsub, it seemed, orchestrated his killings based on the ominous narratives found within these chosen novels. Each victim unwittingly acquired a literary prelude to their tragic end as the killer turned the pages of their lives into a haunting script of their own demise.

With this knowledge, we were able to predict the next target and swoop in just in time to prevent another tragedy. The final confrontation took place in an abandoned library, where the unsub attempted to stage his twisted interpretation of a tragic love story. With swift and coordinated action, we thwarted his plans and brought justice to the victims.

So, with the unsub's twisted plans foiled, we found solace in the fact that we had saved the couple from his dark intentions.

Amidst the chatter on the jet, the mood shifted to a more relaxed and celebratory tone. The weight of the case had dissipated, replaced by a comforting conversation and shared laughter.

"Hey, Prentiss, any hot plans for Valentine's Day? Morgan teased, giving Emily a mischievous grin.

"Valentine's Day? Seriously, Morgan? After all the chaos of this week, I just want a quiet night with a good bottle of wine," Emily responded, leaning further into her seat.

"Valentine's Day is this weekend, and I completely forgot! Will and I will have to just stay at home," JJ confessed, sounding a bit bummed.

"Well, Beth and I will be taking Jack to the cinema to watch a movie. Would you like us to also take Henry so you and Will can have a date?" Hotch offered.

"Oh, Hotch, that’s very sweet. If you don't mind, yes! We would really appreciate it," JJ replied gratefully.

"What about you, pretty boy? Got any plans?" Morgan playfully mussed up Spencer's hair.

"Well… I…” He cleared his throat. "I, um… I actually do have a date," Spencer stammered, his face immediately turning a bright shade of red.

"A date, Reid? Come on, spill the details. What's her name?" Morgan proceeded to probe.

“It's a blind date, so I'd rather not jinx it by talking about it.” Spencer spoke with a faint smile.

As I learned about Spencer's date, I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the sheer coincidence—both of us had blind dates on Valentine's Day. What were the odds?

Then it hit me, and as much as I tried to dismiss it, there was a subtle pang of envy that Spencer also had a date. I understood the irony of feeling jealous while I was also going on a blind date this weekend.

Earlier that week, my friend from the previous division I worked in—International Affairs and Counterterrorism—set me up with a guy. According to him, this guy was perfect for me—smart, kind, and seemingly attuned to my taste. So, I've decided to give it a shot and go on this date. It was Valentine's Day after all. So yes, I was also going on a date, and I acknowledged how contradictory it sounded to feel envious of Spencer's date. Nevertheless, a twinge of jealousy lingered.

Yet, in the grand scheme, I genuinely wished for Spencer to have a fantastic time this weekend. After all, we were nothing more than friends, and his happiness was something I truly valued.

Morgan, with a playful glint in his eye, turned his attention to me and chimed, "Alright, Reid's stepping into the world of romance, so what's the deal, Y/N? Any Valentine's plans on your agenda?"

"No, I don't really have plans. It'll be a normal weekend for me." I spoke with a smile, gently sidestepping Morgan's inquiry. I preferred to keep certain aspects of my life private, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Saturday night came around pretty quickly.

I chose a simple red dress and black stilettos for the occasion—it was Valentine's Day, after all, and opportunities for dates were not a frequent occurrence for me. Since joining the FBI, I haven't had many opportunities to look like this. Typically reserved for pantsuits and white shirts, it was refreshing to see myself look so put-together.

What awaited me on this evening could be a mistake or, just maybe, the start of something unexpectedly wonderful. Despite the flutter of reservations in my stomach, I resolved to push through the uncertainty.

Before stepping inside, I paused at the entrance, reminding myself to take a deep breath; it was just a date after all—no need to be nervous. The restaurant, my absolute favorite, bore the name "Bella Luna," renowned for its delectable pastas. It had become my go-to spot for a delightful meal, offering a perfect blend of cozy ambiance and culinary excellence.

My friend, the mastermind behind this blind date, had given the gentleman a specific directive: reserve the table with a view of the river—my favorite spot in the house. This strategic move not only catered to my preferences but also had the practical benefit of simplifying the identification of my date.

As I stood by the entrance, lost in my thoughts, I almost jumped, caught by surprise, as someone bumped into me. "Hey, where were you goi..."

“Y/N! Hi!” His eyes were widening with surprise as he recognized me.

“Spencer! Hi! I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing. Didn’t you say you didn’t have plans?” He asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Yeah!" I laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I, uh, decided to give in to the Valentine's Day spirit, I suppose." Spencer chuckled softly, his warm demeanor putting me at ease.

"How are you anyway, feeling good about your blind date?" I inquired, genuinely curious about his well-being.

"To be honest," he admitted, "I'm actually kind of nervous."

"What? Why?"

He hesitated before sharing, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why wouldn't she like you?" The words left my mouth so fast, a testament to my incomprehension of how someone could not like the guy standing before me.

"Because I'm weird. I slouch; my hair's too long; my tie's perpetually crooked." His words were almost a whisper, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

I smiled softly, reaching my hands to fix his crooked tie. "Here, your tie is now straight. And Spencer, you're not weird; you look really good tonight. I think you'll do very well."

He smiled softly, thanking me, and said, "Well, you do too! You look very beautiful tonight, Y/N.” My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. He blushed slightly before adding, “I should really get going. I don't want to be late for my date.”

“Go get him, tiger,” I encouraged with a smile as I stayed behind, watching him leave.

Fuck, he looked so good; his dark blue suit fit him in all the right places. Though not a radical departure from his usual attire, the effort put into his appearance fueled my jealousy. The realization that he was heading on a date with someone else lingered in my thoughts, intensifying the sting.

To make matters worse, we´re at the same restaurant, and I would have to endure the evening watching him, attempting to engage in my own date while inwardly yearning for his company.

The challenge would be to keep my eyes from straying towards him, wishing the girl by his side was me.

Shaking my head to dispel thoughts of Spencer, I took a deep breath before entering the restaurant. I traversed the restaurant, consciously keeping my head down until I arrived at the table with the view of the river, and it was only then that I allowed myself to look around.

To my surprise, when I looked at the table, I found Spencer sitting there.

Confusion clouded my mind as I stood there, staring at Spencer, seated at the table, facing away from me. Disbelief hung in the air like a heavy fog. This had to be a misunderstanding; it couldn't be Spencer. My friend John specifically directed the blind date; he arranged for me to sit at this table, but Spencer was here.

The possibilities raced through my mind like a whirlwind of uncertainty. Did the receptionist make an error? Could there be another table with a view of the river where they seated my actual blind date? Could this guy look a lot like Spencer from behind? My thoughts spiraled into a maze of questions, each more perplexing than the last. I was caught in a web of doubt, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Could Spencer and John know each other? How would they even know each other? Although we all work at the FBI, they work in totally different divisions.

As I approached the table, just a few feet away, I confirmed my suspicion: it was him—Spencer. Even though he wasn't facing me, I recognized his curls, almost catching a whiff of his distinctive perfume. It was undeniably him. How did this happen?

My heels clacked on the ground, a sound that drew Spencer's attention. His gaze shifted, expecting another woman, preparing for a polite greeting. "Hi, nice to meet y…” His words now caught in his throat.

As I pulled the chair and sat down in front of him, he halted his movements, confusion etched on his face. It seemed like he was ready to stand up, perhaps shake hands, and greet another person. But as he realized it was me, his expression transformed into one of utter bewilderment.

"Y/N, what is going on?" Spencer asked, his face a mix of confusion and concern as he settled back into his chair.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "How do you know John Watters, Jonathan Watters?" I questioned, peering at him with an intense gaze.

"What? What do you mean, Y/N?" Spencer replied, clearly confused by the sudden turn of events.

"Spencer, how do you know John?" I repeated, my eyes locked onto his, seeking an explanation for the unexpected twist in our supposed blind date.

"John Watters and I play chess in the park. We met a couple of months ago, and now we play together regularly," Spencer explained, his confusion still evident in his expression. “Y/N, what is going on?” he added, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Spencer…” I began, a faint smile creeping onto my face as it reddened, my hands immediately meeting my face. It dawned on me; John had set us both up, and it seemed he might not have known Spencer and I already knew each other.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes widening. He seemed to have a eureka moment. "Do you know him?" he asked, his tone still a little unsure. I only nodded, my faint smile hidden behind my fingers, covering how embarrassed I was.

Then Spencer fired questions left and right. "What? How do you know John?” He set you up with me. Like… did you know? You wanted to have a date with me and asked him to do it? I mean, I have talked…." He was blushing like crazy, so I decided to interrupt.

"No, No... I mean, yes, but..." I stumbled on my words as I tried to answer. "I do know John, yes, but I didn't know he set us up... But yes, I wouldn't... I wouldn’t mind a date with you." The last part slipped my tongue way too quickly, the confession escaping my lips.

"Are you serious? A date with me?" He sounded excited but mostly surprised.

"I mean, we're already here, so we might as well do it. He clearly thought we were a good pair," I offered, keeping my head down. My face felt hot, and I was smiling like a stupid little kid.

“I can't believe this; I can't believe this is happening. You don't know how long I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you out, and now this is happening." His head fell back as he inhaled deeply. “Is this real? Can you pinch me, Y/N? You look so pretty, so beautiful. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must be dreaming." His excitement was palpable, and his gaze was fixed on me with a mix of joy and disbelief.

“You're definitely awake; this is real!” I reached out my hand to him and held his hand. “See, this is real—a very strange coincidence, but undeniably real.”

The evening unfolded gracefully. Spencer took my recommendation, and we ordered the Carbonara, complemented by a shared bottle of Cabernet. I couldn't help but savor the moments when our laughter harmonized, creating a melody of shared joy. A subtle warmth spread across our faces, not just from the ambiance but also from the wine. Our laughter became a touch more carefree, perhaps a little tipsy, adding an extra layer of delight to the evening. The restaurant seemed to fade into the background as we continued to enjoy each other’s company.

As the plates were cleared away and the restaurant emptied out, Spencer's gaze remained locked on mine. We sat in silence for a little bit as a warm feeling settled, enjoying the lingering aura of the evening. Spencer smiled softly, leaning closer to me and taking my hands in his. "Let me walk you home," he suggests. "It's a beautiful night, and I'd love to spend more time with you."

As we stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights played on the surface of the river, casting a gentle glow on our path. Spencer and I began to stroll along the riverbank towards my apartment. The soft murmur of the water provided a soothing background to our conversation, and amidst our banter, our attention was drawn to an old lady with a basket of roses.

"Hello there," the old lady said, greeting Spencer with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you like to buy a rose for your beautiful girlfriend?"

"Oh, but I'm not his girlf..." Before I could clarify, Spencer, wearing a confident smile, chimed in, "Yet..." He told the sweet lady "So yes, I would love to buy her a rose." He turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

The old lady chuckled warmly. "Here you go, young man, a rose for your not-yet-girlfriend. May your love bloom as beautifully as this rose," she said, handing the vibrant flower to Spencer.

I thanked him as he handed me the rose, appreciating the beautiful gesture. We then continued our walk, the soft glow of the city lights guiding our way.

"So, a rose for the 'not-yet-girlfriend'," I teased, a playful smile on my lips.

"Well," he began, "I thought a rose might be a good start, but who's to say what the future holds?"

"Fair enough," I replied, a teasing glint in my eye. "A rose is a good start but what's your plan for the rest of our 'not-yet' journey?"

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about this," he began, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I won't disappoint you, that's for sure."

I felt a subtle warmth spread—a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "Is that so?" I replied with a playful glint in my eye. "I guess I'll have to wait and see what surprises you have in store.”

As we continued our walk to my apartment and reached my doorstep, the night seemed to invite us to linger a little longer.

"I had a lot of fun, Y/N. I regretted every moment we weren't doing this sooner," Spencer confessed.

"I loved this night too, Spencer," I began, a genuine warmth in my voice. "This is not how I imagined my night ending at all; I definitely never expected you to be my blind date."

"I just can't believe this happened. Who would have thought you would go on a date with me?" His soft hand reached for mine; his touch was warm and inviting.

"Well, Jonathan apparently did," I laughed, the surreal nature of the evening sinking in.

"Of course, he thinks I want to date you. I talk about you all the time..." Spencer shyly admitted, his gaze avoiding mine.

"Wait! You talk about me?" My voice lifted with happiness.

"Well, I just tell him about my day... and how I love being by your side. You're so understanding, always listening to me. Your attentive gaze makes my heart skip a beat, and your eyes, Y/N, they sparkle so beautifully. And your smile—oh, it's the prettiest I've ever seen." His words were tender, and his brown eyes never left mine. "Jonathan never told me he knew you; I guess he sensed I was too scared to act upon my feelings and took matters in to his own hands." He chuckled. "And now you're here, and we went on this date—a wonderful date, may I add—and you look absolutely stunning."

As Spencer's words lingered in the quiet night, I felt a soft warmth enveloping us and an unspoken connection deepening.

"I would really to kiss you." He whisperd. His gaze held a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability, mirroring the sentiments that resonated within me.

"You know what, Spence?" I began, a gentle smile playing on my lips. "I'd really like that too."

His eyes brightened with joy, and as if a shared understanding passed between us, he leaned in slowly. His hands cradled my face, creating an intimate connection as he closed the remaining space between us. The world around us faded into a soft blur as our lips finally met.

The kiss was tender, his lips warm and inviting, and the sensation sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

As we pulled away, a shared smile painted across our faces, our foreheads pressed together in a moment of quiet closeness.

"Wow," Spencer whispered.

"Wow indeed," I replied, my heart echoing the sentiment.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," he said, kissing me again, this time with more force and desire.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing against mine with a newfound intensity, fueled by the longing we had both harbored for so long. It was a fusion of heat and tenderness, with each movement deliberate and purposeful.

His hands, which had cradled my face so gently before, now moved with a purpose, exploring the contours of my back and waist. The taste of him was intoxicating—a blend of warmth and desire that left me breathless.

"Spencer," I began, feeling our breaths mingle. "Would you like to come in?

Spencer's eyes darkened in response, his nod signaling his agreement.

As the door shut behind us, I carefully placed the rose he gave me on a small side table by the entrance, wanting to preserve the sweet gesture. Spencer, without saying a word, pulled me against him again.

I guided us through the familiar space of my home with an urgency that spoke of unspoken desires. As we reached the bedroom, our bodies entwined again.

I laid back on the bed, letting my body sink into the softness of the mattress. Spencer's body was right above mine, and our lips met in a hot, messy kiss. It was like everything else melted away, and all that was left was us in this moment. I could feel the heat of his body on top of mine, and the rush of intimacy was palpable. I wanted this moment to last forever, clinging tight to his every touch.

Spencer's hands glided along the curves of my body, caressing me with an intimacy that left me wanting more. His lips left mine to roam lower, descending slowly towards my breasts. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my chest.

Spencer's voice broke through the intensity. "Are you sure?"

A smile played on my lips as I whispered, "Yes, please Spence."

The sudden touch of his finger on my skin sent a shiver down my spine as his hand slowly drifted down my shoulder and pulled the strap of my dress down. As my nipple became exposed, he kissed it gently, sending a wave of arousal through my body.

He looked so pretty like this; his smooth hand cradled my breast as his lips left soft kisses. His slow hums of satisfaction were accompanied by the thrusts of his hips against my clothed core.

Sensing the escalating desire between us, Spencer then took the initiative, smoothly pulling my dress off. I felt exposed as his hands traveled down my body, lowering himself and planting soft kisses on my stomach.

"You look so beautiful and you smell so good." His whispers of admiration filled the air. "I bet you taste even better." He placed a soft kiss where I wanted him the most. I moaned at his words, not expecting them.

He then proceeded to slide my panties to the side, slowly licking a long stripe. The warmth of his tongue against my skin sent shivers through my body, and the anticipation built with every teasing touch.

“Fuck, it's even better than I imagined." His words were muffled as he spoke from between my legs, looking into my eyes. My moans filled the room, joined by the sound of his mouth devouring my wetness. My hands met his hair as I pulled him closer by his curls.

"Spencer..." My voice caught in my throat.

"What, baby?" The enduring name leaving his lips made my heart flutter.

"I need you," I pleaded.

"Need me to what, baby?" His middle finger breached my entrance. "Use your words," he said, caressing my opening. The sensation of his finger chills of pleasure down my spine. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and I could feel a rush of arousal building inside me. "I need you inside, please," I begged, moving my body against his.

Sensing my urge, he stood, undressing me and then himself. "Since you asked so nicely," he lined up and slowly sank in, his head resting on my shoulder, and his soft moan muffled on my neck.

Our kisses were slow and passionate, our lips brushing against each other with every movement of our bodies. His hands caressed my body, sending a wave of pleasure through me that only increased with every thrust.

Each rhythmic movement brought us closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each caress and whispered word. "You feel so good, Y/N; it’s like you were made for me." Spencer's voice was laden with desire as I moaned into his lips.

The intensity grew with each passionate thrust, and we were both lost in a world of pleasure. Our bodies were tightly intertwined, pressed up against each other as we let our emotions take over. Our moans filled the room, and our breathing became shallow and fast. We both wanted this moment to last forever, clinging to each other with all the strength we could muster.

"Spencer, I can't,” I cried out.

"Can you hold it for me, just a little, pretty girl?" he said, looking into my eyes. My eyes fluttered, closing at the words.

"No, no, no, keep your eyes on me," he said. "Yes, just like that." He kept thrusting with force, and I couldn't take it anymore. “I want to see your pretty face as you cum, baby.”

"Spence... please inside." I begged him, and that was all it took. I didn't have to wait any longer. The tension in the room reached its peak, and I could feel him release, his climax echoing mine.

Our bodies trembled together in the aftermath, the shared intensity of the moment lingering in the air. The room was filled with the sounds of our rapid breaths and the soft rustle of sheets as we came down from the euphoric high.

As we lay there, a playful smile crossed Spencer's lips. "So, about that 'not-yet-girlfriend' situation..." he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled, tracing circles on his chest. "Well, it looks like we just fast-tracked that process."

Spencer grinned. "Guess we skipped a few steps."

I gave him a playful look. "Steps? Who needs steps when you have Jonathan playing cupid?”.

Spencer gave a playful shrug. "Well, I'll be sure to thank the man.”

#criminal minds #mgg x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #Spence reid x reader smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid friends to lovers

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thehmn · 1 month

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It might simply be that I don’t frequent ADHD forums enough but I haven’t seen a whole lot of talk about learned social withdrawal.

As a child I made friends left and right but as we all turned into self-conscious teenagers it slowly became more and more difficult for me. Plain and simple, other people thought I was weird. For some reason I never got bullied which I think is related to something my teachers kept telling my parents “She’s such a sweet, bright child and we can tell she’s not malicious or trying to be disruptive on purpose but we can’t teach her anything”

Basically people couldn’t figure me out. I had good social skills with both children and adults, I had a good moral compass, i felt compassion and empathy for others and was willing to go against my friends if I felt they were being bullies, I taught myself English and my drawings showed good observation skills. Because of all that it was decided I should start school a year sooner than most kids and my parents were very proud. Unfortunately that’s probably one of the main reasons why I was never diagnosed with raging ADHD as a child. People soon realized I didn’t do well in a school setting but assumed it was because I “wasn’t done playing” and my ADHD symptoms were interpreted as childishness.

So as I got older my classmates started to distance themselves from me. They were always kind and friendly but they didn’t know how to deal with me and ever since then people have always been worryingly comfortable with calling me weird to my face. I get the impression it’s because they think it’s a choice on my part. To them I’m clearly of “normal intelligence” so I must be acting like this on purpose and my parents would repeatedly tell me to “just act normal” as a child when I told them I was struggling to make friends. I tried so damn hard but kept failing. I knew something had to be different about me and when I first heard about ADHD I thought “That’s me! That’s how I feel!” but my parents said that was impossible because I wasn’t hyperactive.

Because nobody wanted to help me I eventually learned to just stop trying to make friends and keep to myself. I was so tired of being told by friendly, well-meaning people that I was so weird and quirky and unique only for them to distance themselves once they realized it was permanent and not something I could turn on and off for parties. I always enjoyed being alone so it wasn’t a huge loss but it did feel incredibly lonely at times.

Things got a lot better when I became an adult, mostly because adults are generally more chill than teens so my ADHD behavior isn’t as embarrassing to them and ironically they’re often surprised to learn I don’t make friends easily. Unfortunately I learned to be withdrawn in my formative years so new friends are still a rarity. Before I really sat down and put my past into context I even started to wonder if I had autism despite not connecting with anything autistic people said about their experiences. I went as far as to be tested but wasn’t surprised when the diagnosis was negative because of course it was, I kinda already knew that. I was just looking for an explanation.

So while there can be overlap between ADHD and autism (I have just such a friend) my experience is also that oftentimes people with ADHD simply learn to stay away from social situations and entertain ourselves which ends up looking like autism to outsiders.

#adhd #add #autism

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tryslora · 2 months

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On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene.

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes.

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those.

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

#writing #writing resources #writing sex #writing combat

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captain-joongz · 10 days

Text

A little show

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: uni au, pure smut with a dash of plot, some fluff, strangers to lovers

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: Who knew that getting off in the uni bathroom to get away from the world's most boring lecture could lead to getting absolutely railed by a cute postgrad student... but third time's the charm, right?

Warnings: slight exhibitionism, masturbation in a public bathroom, sex in a public bathroom (for once they're even using condoms lol), yoongi is a little shit but he'll rock your world, dirty talk, slight choking kink, dom-ish yoongi, who am i kidding he's a fucking beast, fingering, backshots, rough sex, some begging, biting and marking, they literally don't talk to each once before fucking

A/N: oof this was totally unplanned but i cannot be held responsible for anything after seeing the d-day concert movie, this is all yoongi's fault. also it ends surprisingly fluffy for the filth that's contained within

credit for the divider to @saradika-graphics, thank you so much <3

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself awake while the lecturer droned on, his nervous slightly stuttering voice carrying through the classroom and lulling everyone into a half-asleep haze. Every Tuesday I had to sit through 90 minutes of this man stumbling through every topic, trying to connect with the classroom full of people while anxiously stepping around the whiteboard projecting his presentation.

I was fully understanding, this was his first year teaching and he still hasn’t shaken off the stage fright, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I had never enrolled into this class and rather spent the time doing literally anything else. It didn’t help that it was an afternoon lecture, dragging on until 5PM, which was usually the time I was already completely fried.

I looked around, noting the other students similarly fighting off sleep or browsing internet on their notebooks, some valiantly still trying to keep their attention on the lecturer and failing miserably. I watched the girl in the row in front of me order a cute sweater, deliberating between two colours for about ten minutes before choosing strawberry pink. I approved.

My body was screaming from being bent over the desk in my boredom, back bent so crooked when I straightened out it cracked vertebra after vertebra like a xylophone from nightmares. I sighed, squirmed around, checked the time. Only 5 minutes have passed since I last looked. I barely suppressed a groan. I couldn’t sit still for longer than a minute, leaning back then pressing forward, folding and unfolding my legs, just trying to find a comfortable position to spend the next 40 minutes in and failing.

After 5 more minutes I reached a boiling point, playing with the thought of just booking it halfway through, but instead my unoccupied brain started entertaining itself by slipping into a territory that it deemed more fun. I started thinking about what I’d rather be doing, where I’d rather be, flushing slightly from embarrassment but surrendering to these thoughts as they presented at least some form of entertainment.

I made it barely 10 minutes before I was so painfully wet and aroused I definitely couldn’t make it through the lecture anymore. I had to do something about it, now.

I wasn’t shy about the fact that I occasionally enjoyed wanking in some more public spaces like bathrooms, the thrill of someone possibly coming in and having to keep quiet was getting to me. I didn’t indulge in it often, just when I got really bored and my brain immediately went to “let’s get off to entertain ourselves” instead of doing something normal like other people, just when I was sure there was only a slight chance of someone actually coming across me.

But thinking all that, I realised I’d never taken such liberty while I was in the uni building, probably just thinking about getting out of there as quickly as possible, but fuck, this lecture was getting to me. Somehow it felt more morally wrong than some other random ass places, but I deliberated on it. We were in a secluded corner of the building, it was really high and there was no elevator, the classrooms were smaller and above there was construction going on, which resulted in this place usually being totally deserted except for those unlucky souls that still had lectures here. I was pretty sure there was no other class going on here right now and the chance of someone from here going to the bathroom at the same time was slim.

On a whim I decided to take the risk, my body heating up knowing I was about to give in to the need. I quickly stood up, grabbed my phone and made my way outside. The hall was empty except for a single guy sitting by a table directly across from the bathroom door, but I figured it would be fine. He was wearing headphones anyway, head bobbing to a beat I couldn’t hear and fingers nimbly clicking something on his laptop and toying with the mouse. I slipped past him quietly and went straight for the bathroom door.

Inside was quiet, as if cut off from the outside world, the only two toilets both empty and door wide open. I went to the further one, not that it made much difference with how small the room was, but it still made me feel a little better.

With the door closed and locked for better feeling of security, the excitement finally got the better of me and I rushed to stick my hand into my skirt to pull down my tights and panties, fingers immediately finding the slick folds.

I bent over, the stall small enough to allow me to lean on my elbow on one wall while my ass pressed into the other, fingers going straight for my clit and wasting no time in pressing on it and circling it desperately. Quiet sighs of pleasure spilled from my lips, body trembling with pleasure heightened by the fact I was in a public space.

I barely even touched myself and I could already feel how fucked out I was getting, knees shaking and the pleasure mounting dangerously fast. In my mind I imagined myself bent over the toilet and a warm presence behind me, getting fucked good, strong hands gripping my waist hard, pulling me back on the cock like a toy while telling me to shut up, laughing at me while I bit my fist trying not to let the whole university know how good I was feeling.

My orgasm was approaching embarrassingly quickly, the pad of my finger furiously toying with my clit while my knees were shaking with the mounting pressure waiting to snap. I was so wet I felt my juices dripping down my thighs, dripping onto my hand and making my finger slip all the time as I tried to get myself to cum as fast as possible.

That didn’t seem to be that hard as I could already feel myself hurling towards the edge, cunt spasming around nothing, desperately wishing to be filled, as my ass pressed harder into the wall and my back arched. I could feel a little cramp starting up in my wrist, but I didn’t let up, keeping the pace on my clit as I felt the start of an intense orgasm, the sensation bursting through me like a tornado and I let out a moan muffled into the crook of my elbow. My knees buckled with the force of it and thank god that I was still leaning on the wall otherwise I would have for sure fallen down.

My whole body relaxed, thighs and knees still shaking as I tried to get my breathing back under control. The bathroom was suddenly eerily quiet now that there wasn’t blood rushing through my ears and I wasn’t blinded by my own ecstasy, and I flushed in embarrassment but still couldn’t stop myself from a little joyful giggle leaving my lips in breathless wonder.

I took my time getting myself back into order, cleaning myself up and righting my clothes again. I was in there for only about 15 minutes, so there was no reason to rush. I did notice that my legs had a little boneless swagger to them as I suddenly went from high strung in boredom to perhaps a little too relaxed, a stupid little grin pulling at my lips as I swayed my hips leisurely.

But that changed the moment I walked back out onto the hall. The second I was out of the bathroom I immediately found myself in direct eye contact with the sole student sitting out there. I only had a second to note he was very attractive before I realised he was watching me with the air of amusement, eyes darkening and a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back and gave me a once over.

I flushed under his heavy gaze, freezing like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he knew what I’d been doing in there, something in my demeanour must have given me away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes lingering on my hands clutched together before amused grin set onto his face.

I broke out from the daze suddenly and set into motion again, escaping his hungry eyes and entertained aura, hurriedly scurrying back into the classroom where I sat stewing in my own shame for the rest of the lecture.

When I walked back out after we were dismissed, the hall was empty, to my great relief.

“Come on, you should come tomorrow at least for a little bit,” Jungkook whined, pouting at me and hands tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. I gave him an unimpressed look, firmly resistant to his charms, which probably made me the only person in the world that was capable of that.

“I told you Kookie, I’m not feeling it this week,” I said for the fifteenth time that day, “Maybe next time.” The dance major cutely stomped his foot and tugged on my sleeve again. His wild hair flailed around with the wind, probably getting into his eyes, but he ignored it in favour of annoying me.

“But the next party won’t be for god knows how long,” he whined, giving me his ultimate puppy eyes and blinking cutely, “Come on Y/N, you need to let go a little.” Now, I would lie if I wasn’t swayed a little bit, but the exhaustion was weighing on me and I was looking forward to just having a quiet evening in ignoring all of my responsibilities and pretending I have no essays due and there aren’t any deadlines I was missing.

“I’m sorry Kook,” I softened my tone a little to convey I truly was apologetic, smiling at him gently, “I promise I will definitely go to the next party.” The man brightened and straightened out, letting go of me and setting out on the sidewalk leading out of the campus.

“I have your word! No takebacks!” he shouted excitedly and I ran after him laughing. I knew he wouldn’t let me forget it, so I just resigned myself to going to the next party even though I quite disliked them. I had nothing against partying, but I just preferred to go clubbing and dancing, not spend my evening sitting on a stained couch in someone’s living room listening to total strangers get zoinked out of their minds and talk about assignments. But I would go for Kookie. Just once though.

We walked side by side for a moment, just enjoying the awakening spring. It was still pretty cold outside, but the sun shone more often and the temperatures were enough to wear just a light jacket instead of coats with shawls, so I soaked in the atmosphere. People were beginning to filter outside, sitting around on the green grass, talking and studying, and it was nice to see.

Looking around I suddenly froze, standing still in the middle of the path while Kook continued for a few more strides before he realised I wasn’t following. He gave me a confused look, but I was already fighting an embarrassed blush and didn’t pay him much mind.

On the grass by a big tree was quite a familiar looking student, his long wavy dark hair similarly pushed around by the wind as he bobbed his head to music presumably playing in his headphones. He was wearing all black, standing out as a sore thumb in contrast with the green lit up by sun, but he was fully engrossed in his laptop and paid no attention to anything going on around him.

“Hey Kookie,” I called out to my friend, finally looking at him, “Do you know who that guy is?” I discreetly pointed in the man’s direction, hoping I wouldn’t draw anybody’s attention by being a fucking weirdo. Jungkook was a social butterfly despite his shyness and he seemed to know half the university (probably a side effect of hanging out with Jimin all the time), even people from majors that had nothing in common with his, so I was pretty confident he would be able to correctly identify the menace of my life.

“Who?” he started confusedly looking around, eyes jumping around the students just living their lives. I tried pointing again, hoping he would see where I meant without having to outstretch my arm fully. “There, that guy in the black sitting under that tree.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally locked onto his figure and a recognition immediately lit up his face. I chuckled. Of course he did know him.

“Oh sure!” he exclaimed, “that’s Yoongi hyung. He’s a little bit university famous.” I looked at him in shock and then glanced back to the expressionless man sitting on the lawn.

“Famous? Famous how?” I pressed for more info, this time it was me who way playing up the cute act, hanging onto Jungkook’s arm and batting my eyelashes at him. He gave me an amused smile, seeing right through me.

“Well, he’s handsome and yet cool and mysterious, girls love that shit,” Kook played it up, flipping his hair sassily and fluttering his lashes, making me scoff at him amusedly, “Plus he’s a rapper and sometimes performs in the local clubs and bars, so he’s pretty popular.” I turned us away from the black-clad student who was still unaware of anything going on around him and pulled us back onto the path.

“I see,” I hummed noncommittally, not giving him any indication of why I would suddenly ask about Yoongi, but based on the amused looks Kookie was giving me, he must have had an inkling why the sudden interest.

“He’s actually in the same year as Joonie hyung, they’re interning together at the same studio,” Jungkook continued, keeping his eyes on me to gauge my reaction. I hummed again, not saying anything anymore and just sending him teasing looks.

“If you come to the party tomorrow, Yoongi’s for sure gonna be there,” Kookie mentioned seemingly casually, watching me out of the corner of his eyes as he pretended he didn’t care mischievously.

I only shot him a glare and pulled on his arm, leading us out of the campus towards the café where we were supposed to meet Jimin and Tae, Kookie’s friends who graciously adopted me into the group after I got befriended by the shy giant.

For the rest of the afternoon I could feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, his lips pulled into a barely concealed smile as he fought the impulse to tease me in front of the boys about what he must have thought was an embarrassing crush on the school’s resident heartthrob. I ostentatiously ignored him, only shooting him warning glares here and there to which he always responded with shit-eating grins. Jimin and Tae kept giving us confused and entertained glances but ultimately decided against asking what was going on, much to my relief.

God, if they only knew the truth about why Yoongi even was on my radar in the first place.

The next Tuesday I walked into the classroom again, fully determined to sit through the whole lecture and not move even an inch from my seat. This time I chose a chair in the back, where I could comfortably be on my phone and distract myself from the thoughts of last week, from the attractive man and his smirks. I wondered whether he was sitting there again today, listening to what I now assumed was his own music, laid-back and effortlessly hot. I began to squirm in my seat again, but I quickly tempered it down, scolding myself gently for having such a one-track mind.

Once again I made it through an hour and with 30 minutes left, I began to face a crisis. The boredom was getting to me and I needed to use the toilet, my bladder screaming for help and making me shift around on my chair in discomfort. I thought that I couldn’t really face the bathroom without getting extremely embarrassed, but in the end I lost the battle to nature and got up.

Only, stepping onto the hall, I looked up and lo and behold, there he was – Yoongi sitting peacefully by the window and clicking away on his computer, his big black headphones firmly on as always. The movement by the door must have registered at the corner of his field of vision and he eagerly looked up.

The moment his eyes laid on my figure, frozen once again in the hallway and heating up under his stare, he smirked widely like he won the lottery, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the chair. With his gaze following my every movement I hurried into the bathroom, cheeks blushing and knees turning into jelly.

On instinct I went to the furthest stall and locked the door behind me shakily. Having taken care of my business I paced the stall nervously, already feeling myself bend under the tension. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, knowing Yoongi was sitting outside fully aware of the nature of my little trip last week, but his demeanour, the winning smirk and dark eyes made me want to break that promise.

Embarrassingly enough, I could already feel myself getting wet again and I begun to lose the conviction to just walk away and go sit back into the classroom for another terrible 30 minutes. The thoughts of Yoongi waiting in the hallway, hungrily watching the bathroom door and thinking about me with my hand up my skirt were getting to me and I finally broke.

Swiftly pulling down my tights and underwear I didn’t waste anymore time in sticking my fingers between my folds, gathering the wetness and rubbing the swollen bud begging for attention. I couldn’t hold back the little sighs and moans of pleasure, my body hyper-sensitive and the lust coursing through my body more intense than I could remember ever feeling.

It didn’t take long before I was choking on the moans I desperately tried to stifle on my arm, knees shaking and close to buckling and pussy clenching on nothing, feeling so empty and so desperate for anything I was losing my mind.

And if I was deliriously cumming on my fingers only a moment later while imagining Yoongi fucking me roughly in the uni bathroom, that was only my business.

With trembling fingers I quickly cleaned myself up, blushing when I realised I was so wet the whole top of my thighs was covered in my sticky juices. Putting myself back together I rushed to scrub my hands clean and soon I was standing behind the door, taking a few deep breaths but the excitement still getting the better of me and I eagerly walked out, expectantly looking for Yoongi’s reaction with a little sly smile on my face.

And I was not disappointed.

The second I stepped out, his head snapped in my direction, confirming that he really was waiting for me to come out. His cheeks were also lightly dusted with pink from excitement, his eyes as dark as midnight with his pupils blown wide with lust. He immediately licked his lips, eyes raking over my form and taking in the shaky knees and trembling hips, the blush on my face, both from recovering from an orgasm and shyness, hair a mess and lips bitten red.

Yoongi suddenly stood up and I realised that he packed up his laptop and headphones, all his stuff probably stuffed into his neat backpack that hung off of his shoulder. He side-stepped from the table and leisurely made his way towards me, black dress pants nicely hugging his form, white tee tucked into them accentuating his slim waist and a thick black oversized shirt hanging off him in a way that made me slightly feral.

But there was something else he wanted me to see, and I clocked it as soon as he got close enough, cheeks absolutely blazing red and my pussy valiantly clenching again even after such an orgasm.

He was hard. When my eyes slid down again to appreciate how the pants fit him so perfectly they landed on an unmistakable bulge, the front of his pants tenting in a tell-tale sign of how much he enjoyed my little show. I gasped and suddenly all confidence sapped from my body and I was left aroused and aching, willing to do anything. He watched me with a mix of condescension and arousal, knowing how easily he won over me and loving how receptive I was to just a light teasing, how the blush spread down to my collarbones and my mouth opened subconsciously, eyes glazing over and brain no doubt filled only with the thoughts of his cock.

But with an arrogant smirk he passed right by me, heading for the door of the men’s bathroom. Only when he was halfway through the door, he threw me a look over his shoulder, winking at me and his grin turned wild and rough. Then he disappeared inside.

I was left in the hall gasping for air, body ravaged by tension and lust and head full of images of Yoongi standing in the bathroom stall and hurriedly yanking at his cock, the red tip wet with pre-cum, the liquid getting smeared all over his length by his eager hands trying to get himself to completion as fast as possible. I imagined him grunting, head thrown back and mouth open but still curled into that annoying smirk.

A door opened somewhere a little down the hall and a mess of voices flowed out, startling me out of my reverie and I realised I had been just standing in the middle of an empty hallway staring dumbly at the bathroom door. I felt the bashfulness catch up to me and it sprung me into movement. With one last look at the door I scurried back into the class and spent the last 15 minutes staring into the wall with flaming red cheeks.

When I walked out after the class ended, Yoongi was back to his place, sitting completely relaxed into his chair and grinning lazily when his eyes caught mine. I felt my whole body jerk with a bolt of lust, but I ducked my head and quickly ran down the stairs, rushing out of the building and towards the café where the boys were already waiting for me. Jungkook stared at my flustered face with an unreadable expression, and I let him think whatever he wanted, too preoccupied with fighting the image of Yoongi cumming all over himself just twenty minutes ago thinking of me masturbating just a wall over.

Later that week, after many orgasms, much deliberating and a whole lot of shame I decided I needed to hear his voice. I kept thinking back to how Jungkook mentioned he was in the same year and major as Namjoon and that he was a performing rapper, and I knew Namjoon put his stuff online. And if Yoongi really was a known name in the bar scene around the area, he must have too.

Asking Jungkook about his stage name would be too humiliating, so instead I decided to rake through Namjoon’s insta because he must have his friend’s account there somewhere, hoping Yoongi would forgive me a little social media stalking. Firstly I scrolled through Namjoon’s posted pictures, but he rarely tagged other people. Most of his pictures were of artworks or Joonie doing something silly and living his best life.

So I switched to the pictures that others tagged you in. It took a while, but I was able to see that most of them were from this guy Hoseok that I had seen around but haven’t really spoken to. I knew he was a double major because he did dance like Jungkook and Jimin, but I had never realised he was also in the same major and year as Namjoon. He seemed to post a lot from the studio, often with Joon hunched over his computer in the background, but after some digging I was able to find one that had them all in it.

It was also from the studio, it must have been the one the boys were interning in, presumably all of them together. Hoseok’s face was grinning in one corner as he was taking the selfie and even though it was dark, you could clearly see two men sitting at a table together and discussing something with serious looks on their faces. A laptop sat between them and one of them had his hand lying on the pause button. It was Yoongi and Joon. Only their side-profile could be seen in the photo, but it was unmistakably them. The description only said “hyung is scolding joonie again” but tapping on the photo it showed that both of them had been tagged. Bingo.

Yoongi’s account was full of mostly dark pictures, some from the same studio and some were of him on stage mid performance, but there weren’t as many as Namjoon and Hoseok had on theirs. I scanned some of them quickly, but even though he looked super hot and the photos were extremely well done, it wasn’t the reason of my searching.

I checked the name of the account again – it was Agust D. And there was a link in the bio. Without thinking I clicked it and was transported to Spotify, Yoongi’s entire career laid out clearly in front of my eyes in the form of three albums.

I spent the evening listening to them, letting his music wash over me and losing myself in the beat and the lyrics. No matter what I was looking for when I wanted to listen to it, I got everything and more. I suddenly understood all those star-struck students that according to Kookie trailed hopelessly after Yoongi, the man had a real talent and an aura that just sucked you right in, like a fly getting trapped in a very smug spider’s web.

His voice was surprisingly lower and rougher than I anticipated, the songs had no shortage of him growling or screaming, emotions pouring off of his voice in waves that just swept me along.

And I couldn’t wait to find out what he sounded like when he was getting his rocks off.

The next Tuesday I climbed those 4 floors of stairs confidently, wearing a short skirt and cute heels, gingerly picking a spot in the class that would allow me to slink off in the middle of the lecture again. Yoongi wasn’t sitting in the hallway yet, but I believed he’d show up soon enough.

The anticipation was coursing through my veins, making me jittery and giggly. From the corner of my eye I could see a classmate giving me a strange look, mouthing at me if I was okay and I nodded hurriedly, giving her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t pay any attention to me when I had to leave.

If the two lectures before were unbearable, this one took the cake. I could barely contain myself, squirming in my seat, trying to make myself comfortable while I checked the time every 2 minutes, wishing half the lecture had already gone by and always getting disappointed at how early it still was.

My mind was going into overdrive, feeding me ideas and fantasies, replaying last week’s encounter on loop. I couldn’t see anything except for Yoongi’s lopsided smirk planted firmly on his face as he made his way into the bathroom to jerk off, his face as he came thinking of me.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and I was absolutely losing my mind, thighs pressing together and hands tangled into the fabric of my skirt, bunching up the material. I made it 40 minutes before I grabbed my phone and sneaked out onto the hall.

Yoongi’s head shot up immediately, already sitting by the window waiting for something. This time I didn’t freeze up, instead I was the one who smirked at him and confidently walked up straight to the bathroom. He watched me raptly, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. Couldn’t help but notice that today he didn’t have his laptop out, he just sat there and watched me, but I moved forward not giving it much thought.

I raised my eyebrow at him and winked right as I disappeared into the bathroom, the door falling shut behind me and sealing me inside in the calm and quietness. I rushed to the furthest stall, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock, too horny to think clearly.

I couldn’t believe this was getting to me so much, but the moment I managed to slide my tights low enough and ran my hand through my folds, I was already so wet it was astonishing. I laughed at myself in disbelief as my finger found my clit and circled it. Who would have thought this would become my weekly routine, jerking off in the bathroom while a guy I’ve never even talked to sat outside smirking.

But not today it turned out.

Just as pleasure began coursing through me at the ministrations, pleasured sighs leaving me freely as I got cocky not getting caught until now and the squelching of my wet pussy getting played with rang through the quiet space. Then, I heard the door open.

Immediately I froze, hand stopping but still stuck between my thighs. Slow silent footsteps made their way towards the stalls and I hoped whoever this person was, they would take care of their business quickly and leave right afterwards, but they seemed to be taking this in a really leisurely manner. I was holding my breath, counting the seconds, ears straining to catch any kind of sound coming from them.

“Don’t stop on my account, kitten,” a gruff voice suddenly piped up, the footsteps stopping right outside my stall. Relief and lust rushed through me at his appearance and I couldn’t hold back a desperate whimper, the fingers on my clit going back to work. There was a chuckle behind the door and then he was pushing it open.

I must have been a sight, underwear and tights pushed under my ass, skirt bunched up around my hips, bent over with my back arched leaning on the wall as I desperately played with myself, mouth open and eyes glazed over.

Yoongi’s eyes raked over me and he hummed lowly in appreciation. He made his way in lazily, shutting and locking the door behind him before leaning on it and just watching for a moment. I tried to put on a show for him but I was truly gone, the three weeks of built up arousal carrying me high and my body racing towards the edge in record speed.

I watched him back, watched his dark hungry eyes, his tongue peeking out to wet his upper lip, the way his hands flexed by his hips, twitching with the need to grab himself. I could see his bulge clearly, the tight black jeans barely able to contain it, and I was going crazy for it. When my eyes jumped back to Yoongi’s face, he was smirking at me knowing where I’d been staring at. What I wanted.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the door and stepped towards me. Startled I straightened out, fingers stopping once more. He descended on me hurriedly, pushing me into the wall with his body, caging me in. Our faces were suddenly only breaths apart and Yoongi took his sweet time, teasing me by getting closer and pulling away with a laugh. I whined, my clean hand coming up to tangle in his hair and he let me, watching me from above as I writhed against him, wordlessly begging for any touch from him.

Finally, he took pity on me and with a cocky grin smashed our mouths together, immediately prying my lips open and licking inside, claiming me roughly and thoroughly. I moaned into him, body arching into his and he pressed closer, pressing me into the wall again and our bodies touched from our heads to our toes. His hand went to my neck, wrapping around it lightly and grabbing my jaw to keep me still as he kissed me with all his might.

Now with both hands I grabbed onto him, one going around his neck and one around the waist, and he broke the kiss to laugh at me quietly, turning my face with his hand so he could kiss around my ear.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that kitten?” he whispered, voice gravelly with arousal, “Coming in here every week… playing with your pussy… making yourself cum… and then coming out and giving me those eyes, cheeks still flushed from your orgasm and yet playing so coy and shy… you’re such a minx.” I tensed, eyes rolling back as he started nipping at my neck, laying wet kisses and bites all over any skin he could get to.

I didn’t even notice when Yoongi’s other hand found its way between my legs, fingers roughly pressing onto my clit. I choked on a moan, head falling back and hitting the tiled wall, hands flexing into his clothes. He bit my shoulder enough to leave a mark, chuckling at my loud keening before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear again.

“Last week I thought I would go crazy sitting there,” Yoongi continued, almost growling into my skin as his fingers twisted meanly around my sensitive nub making me tremble, “I couldn’t focus on anything, not when I knew how much you wanted to give me a show. Almost went to jerk off at least five times but I held off until you came out to repay the favour.” He chuckled again, hand tightening a little on my neck as he leaned back to look at me.

I tried to get my breathing under control but I was stuck with my mouth hanging open, noises flowing out freely as if this wasn’t a public bathroom. Yoongi didn’t seem to mind though, quite happy to watch me come undone just from a little teasing.

“It was the same for me,” I whispered, looking into his eyes and this time playing coy very much on purpose, licking my lips and batting my lashes to play it up, “Had to sit through the rest of the lecture while thinking about you in here. Was hell.” He snickered darkly, immediately catching onto my act.

He hummed, finger dragging across my lower lip, fascinated for a moment before he snapped back to himself, mouth pulling back into a smirk.

Without a warning his other hand moved lower, fingers tracing my entrance before two of them plunged inside. I moaned out, body seizing up at the sensation. I was wet enough that they went easy but there was still the pleasurable sting of being stretched out on two digits.

Yoongi certainly wasn’t the type to waste time. He hummed satisfied, watching me with those dark eyes, testing the waters with a few shallow pumps before he started finger-fucking me earnestly. Just like everything else, even now he wasn’t gentle, flicking his wrist up and pushing his fingers as far as they could go, curling them to scratch at that one magic spot that had me seeing white.

I whimpered loudly, hips gyrating to ride the motions, already feeling the stirrings of a powerful orgasm lurking on the horizon. Like a shark sensing blood Yoongi chuckled and twisted his fingers on the next thrust. I keened, hands flying up to tangle into his clothes and hair, hips jerking and chasing after the feeling.

“So selfish, kitten,” he tsked at me, still keeping his cool even though I could see his erection attempting to burst through his pants, “only thinking about your own pleasure. No respect for others, huh?”

My first instinct was to apologise, but I got choked up on the words when he started up his pace again, so instead I decided to be a woman of action. Slowly trailing my hand down his torso, feeling him up on the way, grabbing onto his chest, his slim waist, until I finally reached his crotch.

With the first touch he let out a light groan, fingers stuttering and eyes falling shut for a moment, then he was suddenly back onto me, kissing me wildly while his hips fucked into my hand, letting out gruff groans and sighs into my mouth, which I accepted gladly.

For a moment we were just lost in each other, not caring about the noise or the place, just pleasuring each other, touching, feeling. Then Yoongi was tearing away, hand flying from my pussy and stepping back. I couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that left me, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his amused face.

Instead he grabbed me and turned me around until I was leaning on my arms on the wall behind the toilet, one leg up on the closed lid for support. I shivered in anticipation, knowing what would come next. Yoongi was moving about behind me, clothes shuffling and rustling. Then his sweater hit the floor. I turned my head to watch just as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a silver packet. He grinned at me and winked when catching my eye, then reached out to me, condom in hand.

“Can you hold this for me for a second, darling?” he asked as sweet as honey, but there was something devilish twinkling in his eye.

“Of course,” I answered him. I meant for it to be sassy, but it came out on a breathless whisper as I took the packet and watched Yoongi’s hand run through his hair before setting on his belt. He unbuckled slowly, attentively watching my eyes soaking in every second as he pulled the belt through the buckle and out of his pants. Fingers toyed with the button before popping it open, tongue wetting his lips and hungry eyes eating me up. I trembled under his attention but held still, not even breathing as his fingers grasped at the zipper and pulled it down.

Tired of playing, he pulled his tee out and put the hem between his teeth, revealing his taunt stomach and pretty waist. Winking at my obvious gawking, he finally pulled his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing free. The sight of him shocked me to my core, standing there with his t-shirt in his mouth and a smug glint his eye while he leisurely fisted his flushed red cock. I could feel my pussy gushing and clenching around nothing, desperately calling to be filled up.

Yoongi plucked the condom packet from my limp hand and made a quick work of putting it on. He lined up behind me, hands finding my waist to pull my tee from the skirt, making contact with bare skin.

I gasped when I felt his cock slide through my wet folds, but quickly keened and arched into it. One of Yoongi’s hands tightened on my waist while the other disappeared to grab his length.

“Easy now,” he chuckled at my trembling body, my hips chasing after his cock and trying to entice him into fucking me.

“Please,” was all I could get out of my mouth, “please Yoongi, just fuck me.” His hand tightened again and there was a beat of silence before he snickered.

“So you naughty girl do know my name,” he teased and I froze for a moment, embarrassment flooding me. I turned to him again to see him smirking at me, tee hanging off of his form. “I heard it around,” I whispered sheepishly. He hummed, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Not really fair, is it?” he teased some more, a mischievous expression taking over his face, “Is it, Y/N?” I narrowed my eyes at him jokingly and he grinned.

“Now, what’s your excuse, mister?” I asked him sassily, “Not like I’m a campus celebrity… unlike someone here.”

“May or may not have asked Jungkook cause I saw you two hanging out,” Yoongi admitted easily, laughing at me when I paled.

“God,” I groaned, “No wonder he was getting so cheeky whenever you came up in a conversation.” At that Yoongi raised his eyebrow again, amusement dancing on his features.

“That happen often?” he asked impishly, leaning against me and once again letting me feel his cock sliding through my folds. I gasped a little and blushed even darker. “You’re Namjoon’s friend, so occasionally,” I bold-faced lied straight through my teeth and from the look on Yoongi’s face, he was aware but let me get away with it.

There was a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, mischievous little smiles on our faces, and then Yoongi hummed, pulling his tee back up to his lips and biting down on it. I shuddered, the lust once again taking the fore-front seat in my mind. This time he didn’t stop for anything, grabbing himself with one hand and the other going to my waist to hold me in place.

The tip of his cock circled my entrance and I subconsciously clenched, a gush of wetness leaving me. I whined and wriggled in his hold and he tsked at me again before sliding inside in a single thrust with a light condescending giggle. I groaned, pussy immediately squeezing around the intrusion, feeling every inch and ridge. There was a hitch in Yoongi’s breaths, both hands migrating to my waist and grabbing so tightly I felt his nails digging into my skin.

He barely gave me a second before pulling out and thrusting in again, setting a rough pace from the get-go. All I could do was bury my head into the crook of my elbow, biting into the soft flesh there to keep myself from moaning loud enough for the whole school to hear.

The stretch of his cock was exquisite, the slight burn heating up my already sensitive body to a near boiling point. With every thrust there was a tiny twinge of pain that left me breathless, desperate to muffle any noise that could cut our meeting short.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care much about noise, hands on my waist mercilessly pulling me back onto his cock and fucking me with so much force I felt my whole body twitching with the overdrive of sensation, the slapping of our sweaty bodies against each other and the wet squelch of my weeping pussy getting filled to the brim loud enough to substitute for our own sounds. He was grunting gruffly, the noise seemingly leaving his mouth involuntarily and getting muffled by the tee.

I turned my head slightly to look at him, and god, he was a vision with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and face the picture of ecstasy, body rippling with the motion of his pumping hips and strong veiny arms and hands gripping onto me hard enough to go red with the force. I couldn’t hold back the moan and he toppled his head forward to look at me, a tired self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips at seeing my fucked out expression.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” I gasped out breathlessly, chuckling at his teasingly narrowed eyes, “You have such a dirty fucking mouth, can’t stand for it being shut.” Yoongi laughed, throwing his head back in delight. Within seconds the piece of fabric joined his sweater on the floor and he leaned forward, hands picking on my own shirt with a mischievous expression.

“Shouldn’t you even the score?” I loved how deep and gravelly his voice became with arousal, even when he was being mischievous I could hear the growl in it and it drove me crazy. I scrambled to listen to him, tearing the shirt off and flinging it behind us. Yoongi’s hands immediately travelled up, playing with the edge of my bra before swiftly undoing the clasp and dragging it off. I gasped lightly at his skilled handiwork and giggled, but Yoongi was already preoccupied with kissing along my shoulders and shoulder blades.

His hips angled better and then jerked them into me again, cock sliding even deeper now. I groaned and arched into him and that was his que to start fucking in earnest again. In this position I could hear the strained sighs and grunts every time he slid back inside, the rough deep pace taking a toll on us both.

The back of my thighs was burning from standing bent over and straining my hips for this long and it added to the mix of feelings running through me. I could feel my orgasm catching up with me, Yoongi’s cock now hitting a spot on every thrust that made me want to scream with pleasure, sliding in so deep I swore I could feel him in my belly and it was so good my head was spinning, and all that came out of me were raspy moans. Yoongi bit into my shoulder, grunts raising in octave, hands pulling at my body to meet his thrusts.

I prayed to god that the walls were thick enough to keep the sounds from escaping onto the hall. I knew that if someone stepped inside now, there would be no masking what was going on, we were both too gone for that, just chasing our pleasure.

I was so close, the weeks of build up and the foreplay and teasing making me delirious. There in that moment I just wished I could stay like this forever, to feel this delicious ecstasy for the rest of my life, but I was so close to snapping I just needed a little extra push even though my head was so high in the clouds wishing to be never brought down.

“Please Yoongi, god,” I choked out, “please, I’m so close.” That seemed to snap Yoongi back into his attitude again, but he couldn’t hide how affected he was too.

“What do you want, kitten, mm?” even he couldn’t talk properly through the gasps and grunts, but still tried to sound as cocky as possible. Instead of talking I grabbed his hand and brought it down between my legs.

Yoongi pressed himself to me closer to make the reach more comfortable, his chest glued to my back as he nibbled on my neck and shoulder, giggling breathlessly when his naughty fingers started drawing tight quick circles on my clit.

My moans got louder, the pumping of his cock, hitting so deep inside of me, combined with the stimulation on my clit made me seize up, whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook me. Yoongi groaned every time my pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper and closer to his own end. Both of us were so sweaty we stuck to each other, the temperature in the stall rising so high it was almost unbearable.

“Yoongi,” I gasped out, just repeating his name breathlessly as I barrelled to the climax, feeling the beginning of the tingling washing over me, pussy seizing up. Yoongi’s hands were like vice on my body, my waist littered with red indents of his nails, some already purpling slightly.

“I know, kitten,” he whispered into my neck, “Me too, you can let go.” The moment those words left his mouth my orgasm exploded over me, enough to blind me and send my ears ringing for a few moments. I let out a raspy groan, hands scrambling to find purchase on the wall and if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s hold on me, my buckling knees would have sent me crashing to the floor, but all I could focus on was the euphoria blooming through my body, flooding all my senses with so much pleasure I could barely fully register anything that was going on. Yoongi fucked me through the peak, hips losing rhythm and all decorum until finally he gave last few hard pumps and stilled too, coming with a drawn-out moan, hands pushing our hips as close together as they could go.

We clung onto each other as we attempted to catch our breaths again. I felt my arms slipping on the tiles as the pleasant ache started setting into my hips and lower tummy, legs screaming for a reprieve as my brain slowly came back into function. I blinked my eyes open, not even realising I had closed them at some point. Yoongi was basically hugging me from the behind, draped over me just breathing deep, faced smushed into my shoulder blade. Then he chuckled.

“You think we’re still in the clear?” he laughed, “How thick do you think these walls are?” A giggle tumbled out of me and before I knew it we were both laughing breathlessly, bodies still pressed close.

“This is officially the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I told him, shaky knees trying to keep my weight as I started to gather my wits. Yoongi let me go easily and helped me find my balance as my whole body ached, back killing me after Yoongi railed me like a madman.

“And here I was, thinking this was just regular Tuesday for you.”

I slapped his shoulder lightly, but the blush on my cheeks revealed that I couldn’t really say anything to that. His amused snickers told me he was well aware, so I just stood there and watched him slip the condom off, tie it up and then just awkwardly stand there not knowing what to do with it.

“Guess I can’t just casually drop a used condom into a bin in the girl’s bathroom,” he stated nonchalantly, and I giggled at him. In the end he grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and hid it inside, putting in on the closed bin lid for the moment.

Next Yoongi swiftly cleaned himself up and pulled his jeans back on, but when I reached for the paper to do the same, he swatted my hand away. With a much gentler smile he got it himself, kneeled in front of me and started cleaning me up, gently wiping away the mess left on my centre and thighs. I watched him attentively, the soft look on his face making him look boyish, only the naughty glint in his eyes reminiscent of the man he was just a few minutes ago.

When our eyes met, I returned the smile, hand instinctively going to tangle into his hair. I meant to just card it through the dark wavy locks, but the heated look he gave me had me shuddering again, fingers tightening. Yoongi smirked, tongue licking at his lips sensually just inches away from my exposed pussy.

“Still thinking about naughty things, kitten?” he said, voice dark and deep, “Like the sight of me on my knees for you?” I hesitated for a moment before untangling my hand and gently pushing him with a blush.

“I see,” Yoongi hummed thoughtfully, “maybe next time then.” With a wink he stood up and when I didn’t move he motioned for me to start dressing up with a smirk, handing me my bra and t-shirt. We slowly clambered out of the stall, stretching and trying to get all the body parts to working order again.

“How about,” Yoongi drawled out, self-assured and with the attitude of someone who just got their rocks off, “you ditch the lecture you never really go to anyway and we grab something to eat?” I stopped in my tracks, shocked but pleasantly surprised at his offer. I checked the time quickly.

“There’s only like 10 minutes of class left, I can sit that out and then we can go,” I answered, smiling softly, but Yoongi smirked with all his might, something devilish glinting over his face. He leaned towards me, grabbing me lightly by my shoulders.

“Not looking like that, you can’t,” he whispered meanly and spun me around. The moment I laid my eyes on myself in the mirror, I gasped. Yoongi was standing behind me grinning like the devil admiring his handiwork. My neck was littered in little bites and spots ranging from dark pink across red all the way to purple. Yoongi let out a satisfied hum, almost sounding like a purr, his hands going across my waist to pull at the tee tucked into my skirt to reveal more reddish purplish bruises from his fingers.

I turned in his arms and slapped his shoulder lightly, completely flustered by his antics. “How can I walk out of here now? Everyone will know what I’d been doing instead of sitting at the lecture,” I whined, more embarrassed than angry, but Yoongi’s laughing face was totally free of any remorse, “I look like someone beat me up.”

The man said nothing, just pulled me closer to kiss me gently. I looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before I whined again: “I don’t even have a scarf with me today.” He burst out laughing and patted my hip softly.

“I’ll get your stuff, you wait here,” he whispered conspiratorially and with one last wink he was gone. It took him only three minutes to stick his head back into the bathroom, looking a little ruffled and a lot amused.

“I suggest we get going fast, I’m afraid a guy leaving the ladies restroom isn’t as inconspicuous as I wished it was,” he got out quickly, smirking impishly and handing me my coat. I tried to wear it in a way that covered most of the marks, but it was futile, more than half of my neck still on full display.

I walked out of the bathroom the same moment the door to my classroom opened and students started filing out. Yoongi exchanged a single glance with me before we both took off, running down the stairs like we were being chased, only stopping once the building doors slammed shut behind us.

“Jimin’s café?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, still trying to get his strength back and leaning on his knees. I grinned at him and grabbed his hand, already pulling him in the right direction.

“Sure, let’s go!”

Bonus:

“Holy shit! The fuck happened to you?” Jimin exclaimed loudly enough for the whole café to hear the moment he saw me walk through the door. Jungkook and Tae, who were sitting at a small table near the counter to keep Jimin company while he had his shift, turned to look at me only for Kookie to promptly spit out whatever he was drinking.

“Holy shit!” I gave him an unimpressed look and walked up to Jimin to order.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him sassily, but Jungkook was grinning mischievously, a knowing glint in his eye. I flushed under his gaze and looked away at which he started laughing loudly.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually did it,” he giggled, properly entertained by the situation and by my embarrassment. Tae was watching it all unfold, confused look on his face.

“Did what?” Jimin asked, similarly confused.

As if on cue the door opened again and Yoongi stepped in, ignoring everyone currently staring at him and walking straight to me, arm curling around my waist to pull me closer to him. He bent down slightly to whisper in my ear: “Got rid of the evidence successfully.”

“Holy shit!” This time it was Tae who screamed, coming full circle. I gave their smug smiling faces an annoyed glare and turned to Jimin to order again, but he was trying to conceal his grin behind his hand. Even more vexed I turned to Yoongi who was smirking smugly like a cat who got all the cream, hand possessively squeezing at my bruised waist.

“On second thoughts, we shouldn’t have come here,” I said to no one in particular, then turning my narrowed eyes at the man of the hour himself, “and wipe that smirk off your face, mister.” There were giggles from the boys all around us, but Yoongi just swooped down and kissed me softly, then pushed us closer towards the counter.

Jimin cleared his throat and tried to put on a professional expression, but there was mirth in his eyes that I just knew I was going to get all the teasing later. Tae and Kookie cleared out the mess at the table and made space for us to sit down, one looking more amused than the other.

I gave them both the stink eye and ignored them, checking my phone instead, trying to reply to all the messages I’ve missed in the last hour. Around me there was silence, everyone just sitting there looking at each other grinning, before Jungkook cleaned his throat and exclaimed:

“God, fucking finally! Thought Yoongi-hyung was gonna talk my ear off about you!”

“Kookie!” There was a pretty blush spreading on Yoongi’s cheeks, a polar opposite to the cocksure man that was railing my brains out 20 minutes ago. I giggled and squeezed his arm. He gave in easily, leaning towards me.

Then he set his eyes on Jungkook and narrowed them teasingly. “We’re gonna settle that later you brat.”

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fluff #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #suga fic #yoongi fic #suga smut #suga fluff #suga x reader

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cultofdixon · 27 days

Text

Within Your Warmth

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Y/N finally found a place to sleep and Daryl was going to hit anybody that disturbs her • SFW • TW: Sleep Deprivation

Requested by: Anon

“You coming to the bonfire Rick has going on later?” Rosita asks Y/N while she was in the middle of her fifth task of the day, pantry restock.

“Yeah, if I’m not too exhausted”

“Well there will be alcohol. The new dude Greyson found a case of beers on his run the other day with Eugene.” Rosita hopped up on the only stool in the pantry watching her best friend work. “Even Eugene found a good scotch”

“Now that’s what I’m here for” Y/N laughs lightly finishing the canned goods and about to start putting away the new jarred stuff from Oceanside. “Do you know if Daryl is gonna be there?”

Y/N could sense the smirk on her face resulting in a groan as Rosita quickly popped off the stool bringing herself up behind her bestie.

“The Daryl Dixon? The one you’ve been crushing on since longer before I came along?”

“Yes. That Daryl Dixon”

“So…if Daryl were to come then you’d for sure come?”

“I guess—“ and with that Rosita left the pantry, leaving a confused Y/N to continue doing what she was doing before heading onto the next task.

The bonfire was happening at Alexandria. They rotate through the communities every couple days to keep the connection between their families…even if Maggie doesn’t want to step foot in Alexandria as long as he lives. Daryl was currently residing in the Sanctuary after being tasked to keep an eye on the community which felt more like a punishment and only two people understood that. Carol and Y/N. When Rosita left to find him, she half expected him to be inside yelling at someone. Instead he was working on the gardening plots with a green thumb from the Kingdom and a few Saviors that turned for good.

“Dixon” Rosita brought on her tough exterior when talking to the man in hopes that her asks would be given a positive answer. “I have to ask you something”

“If it’s about the bonfire bullshit, I’m going”

“It’s about——“ Rosita paused, relaxing her shoulders. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Rick asked, so did Aaron. You just missed them” Daryl handed the hoe off to one of the Saviors so he could get close to Rosita. “Why are you askin’?”

“It’s more so trying to get another to go tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Y/N said she’d go if you do…so does that confirm the mutual feeling that brews between the two of you?” Rosita smirks trying to get more out of the archer but he continued to have the same deadpan look from before. Her shoulders instantly slumped and the smirk faded. “Alright, loverboy…I’ll see you tonight”

“Mhm” Daryl let out a small chuckle before returning to work while Rosita headed off.

As the night came and the bonfire was starting, Daryl leaned against the picnic table holding all the goodies they brought out scanning around the intimate event in search for Y/N. Who so happened to be the last to arrive even if she lives in the vicinity.

“Where the hell have you been?” Rosita pulled Y/N aside when she was about to make small talk with someone.

“Uh. My watch shift? I just got relieved”

“What the hell?”

“What? I wasn’t gonna halt my work load for the day to doll myself up for a man who’s probably equally as tired as I am”

“Well hate to disappoint but the man is question” Rosita gently took a hold of her chin, directing her to look at Daryl while he was in the middle of a conversation with Gabriel. “Seems to have showered and dressed nicer than usual. I wonder who it’s for”

Y/N can’t deny that Daryl did indeed look extremely well put together. Did everything they used to beg him to do when they first arrived to Alexandria.

“I’m gonna go see how he’s doing” Y/N shot a smile his way which definitely caught his attention, but when she parted from Rosita to make her way over…she got stopped by Ezekiel and couldn’t just cut her friend off.

Daryl felt his small smile falter when she got pulled away not just once, but a handful of times throughout the night. He hasn’t even seen her eat or drink anything. Y/N was very popular that night and everybody wanted to talk to her, he wanted too as well but no window opened.

Until she was sat in one of the outdoor chairs by the fire, Daryl instantly took the empty one beside her and watched her tiredly look at him.

“Sorry was this—-“

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night…” Y/N sighs, finally relaxing and keeping her attention on him. “I miss you”

The heat instantly made itself present on the tips of his ears as he tried to fight back a smile.

“Missed yea too sunshine”

The two caught up on what the other has missed regarding their community, ending with Y/N talking about how much Rick is an idiot for having Daryl watch the Sanctuary. A few share that same thought but hers had a whole other meaning.

“You staying the night here?”

“Yeah, figured they’d survive a night without me” Daryl scoffs finishing his beer as Y/N curled up slightly in her chair to get more comfortable.

“Well…I still stay at Rick and Michonne’s. No one touched your room if you’d like to stay there”

“I was actually planning on it…”

“Good” Y/N continues to hold her smile that he will always take a mental picture of. Before she could get another word, Rick quickly cut in to ask Daryl himself about any updates for the Sanctuary.

Which lead the exhaustion to finally hit Y/N after a long day.

When his conversation ended by Rick running off to catch up with Ezekiel, Daryl was going to return to his with Y/N but noticed she fell asleep in her chair. So instead of waking her, he sat with her and made sure no one disturbed her.

Daryl shooed away people, even tossed his empty beer bottle at Aaron who tried to start a conversation (thankfully he caught it)…eventually he got up from his spot and carefully picked up Y/N bridal style which led her to stir awake enough to realize what was happening.

“Oh…”

“You’re alright, imma take yea home”

“Okay, long day” Y/N mumbles resting her head against his chest closing her eyes once more.

On the way to the Grimes residence, Rosita and Michonne went up to make sure Y/N was okay but Daryl quickly gave them a look to back off gently. Nothing was wrong. Thankfully they both understood.

“Who woulda thought it took having Y/N do a lot of shit today to have this tonight” Michonne stated, taking a sip of her scotch as Rosita choked on her beer.

“You’re also trying to get them together?”

“Please. I’ve been trying since our prison days. At least she can finally rest easy tonight…it’s been hard for her with Daryl at the Sanctuary”

“I bet…” Rosita continued to watch the two walk off before leaning close to Michonne with a smirk. “What’d yea win in the bet with Carol?”

“Three night shifts for the bridge camp”

“Nice”

Once they got inside the house and upstairs to Y/N’s room, Daryl gently laid her in the bed before grabbing a blanket draping it over her carefully. What he least expected, Y/N gently took his wrist tugging him back to the bed as he caught the hint or so he thought by bringing him low enough for her to wrap his arms around him.

“Lay with me…”

“Are you su—-“

“I’ve missed you so much Daryl, I’m not letting go of you that easily”

The archer didn’t wait another moment and quickly kicked off his shoes before climbing into the bed laying on top of her. Y/N let him adjust to where his head rested comfortably on her chest letting her run her fingers through his hair.

A satisfied sigh left Daryl’s lips holding her as she held him in a way where she wasn’t going to let go easily.

And he’s thankful for that

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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battymommastuff · 8 months

Note

Tw: you don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable but could you do the bat boys with a reader with sh scars maybe on their thighs. You really don’t have to though! Also I love your writing!! Have a good day/night!

Perfect Imperfections

Batmom x Batfamily

TW: Mentions of miscarraige, self harm, and depression!!

Masterlist

Why was she so patient? Why was she so insistent? These questions kept replaying in Damian's head as he angrily paced the empty batcave. He'd been living at Wayne manor for nearly a year now, and he wasn't having the best time adjusting. His new home life was a struggle. He wouldn't admit it, but he hated having to share his father with his step mother. He also hated how kind you were to him. Talia never treated him with such kindness, so why are you doing the same? Being the mother figure in the house, you should be strict...and harsh with him.

Instead you were the opposite, and it made him so angry. The second thing he was struggling to adjust to was his school. He was heavily encouraged by his "siblings" to make friends, but no one seemed to want to be friends with him. Instead he was met with judgemental looks, and hushed whispers. Damian hated his new life, and he wanted to go back to his old one. At least he had some respect there.

All of this led to today's event. You were walking through the manor in search of Damian. Bonding with him had been more of a struggle than any of your other children. You wanted to get to know him and find some connection between then two of you. You found him sitting on his bed crying softly, "Damian?" You called out, startling the boy. He turned towards you with puffy eyes, and a runny nose, "What's wrong?" You asked and reached out to hug him.

Damian jumped up and put as much distance between the two of you as he could in his room, "It's nothing! Just leave me alone!" He snapped before running from the room. Now he was angrily pacing the Batcave. This sadness and loneliness that he felt made him want to vomit. He constantly felt like a weight was on his chest, and he couldn't get it to go away. Damian wanted to scream...cry...destroy things. He didn't understand what was wrong with him.

What he didn't know was that you related to him in that way. He didn't figure it out until a week later. It was movie night at the Wayne Manor. Instead of being on patrol, everyone crammed into the living room with their popcorn and drinks. You were the last one to arrive, and you were wearing pajama shorts with a Superman nightshirt on. That causes your husband to pout for a while. Damian noticed several scars on your thighs. They went from the top of your knee and disappeared under your shorts. He could tell that they weren't from battle. No one else seemed to notice or question them.

All throughout the movie, Damian's focus was on your scars. What did that to you? Was it self-inflicted? Impossible! You always seemed so happy to do something like that to yourself. He then looked back at your face. Did you feel the same things that he felt?

><><><><><><><><><><

"Y/n?" You looked up from your book to see Damian standing in front of you, "The other night...when we were watching the movie. I noticed the scars on your legs." You looked down to your legs which were covered by your pants. You'd completely forgotten that Damian hadn't ever seen them before, "How did you get them? Was it from a fight?" He asked nervously, and felt guilty for even asking in the first place.

You let out a shaky breath as you set your book down, "I gave them to myself. It was several years ago..." You felt sick to your stomach as you remembered that time. The mental hell you had been in, and was still fighting to this day, "Your father, and I had found out that I was pregnant. I was two months in when I lost it." A tear slipped from your eye as you remembered the pain you felt that night, "After that night, I couldn't eat...I couldn't sleep. All I could do was cry and cry until I felt numb..." Damian moved closer to you, and sat down on the couch with you, "So numb that I wanted to feel something, some feeling that made me feel alive. So I cut myself...over and over." You wiped another tear from your face and sniffled.

"What made you stop?"

"It was about a year after adopting Dick. He was such a happy little boy, and he wanted to show me his report card. He didn't know it was the anniversary of us losing the baby, and I didn't know that he was coming home early. He walked in on me cutting my thighs." Damian felt his eyes start to water. He didn't know what came over him, but he launched himself onto you. A hug so tight, it might be choking you. You hugged him back and couldn't help but cry with him once you felt his tears soak into your shirt. You finished telling him the story. About how you started seeing a therapist, and taking medicine to help. Also about how you started getting better despite the several setbacks you had along the way.

He then opened up to you about how he felt, and you along with the rest of his family helped him get better as they did for you. Four years later, he was walking towards the back of the manor with a bouquet of flowers in his arm. He stopped at a small headstone with other flowers surrounding it. The headstone for the unborn Wayne child. His potential older sibling. Damian set the flowers down before he crouched down in front of the stone, "I learned that there are an infinite number of universes out there, and I know there's one where we got to meet you. This universe never got the chance to, but Ummi told me that you sent us all to her. If that's true, then thank you. For giving me the best mother, and supporter I could ever want."

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

Note

ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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transmascissues · 5 months

Text

some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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blitzyn · 4 months

Text

relax

alhaitham x m!reader

Request: well, since requests are open, perhaps I could request an alhaitham X male s/o where s/o has been really stressed lately with school and has been overworking himself. Because of this, alhaitham being the caring boyfriend he is comes to comfort and relax his beloved s/o with sex and aftercare. If possible, pls let alhaitham call his s/o a 'good boy' and just a praise kink in general, tysm!! 💕 — @ezraelo

a/n -> this mf reminds me of my dad so i kinda wrote what I think he'd say if i was in reader's situation tbh. NOT THE SEX THOUGH. anyways pgr fic first then hate sex w/childe next its been decades since I've done him (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) sigh sometimes i forget i don’t have to write so damn much

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> soft alhaitham (heart eyes pt2), anal fingering, anal sex, praise, not beta read

merry christmas and happy holidays!!

To say you were tired was an understatement—you were exhausted. Stressed. Angry. It felt like everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

First, you accidentally woke up late, was scolded by your teacher when you arrived and made the "perfect" example on what a scholar from the Akademiya should not be. Then you had to study for several hours for a few of your upcoming exams and evaluations—all while having to take some more tests the following week.

And as if that wasn't e-fucking-nough, you had done horribly on one of your essays so now you had to redo it for a better score, on top of needing to start yet another one regarding... Something. You forgot what the prompt was. Honestly, you forgot to do a lot of things. Like eat. Or drink water. Which was something that really didn't help to improve your mood.

You stumbled through the door trying to pry your uniform off, haphazardly tossing your hat to the side. You felt like shit and wanted nothing more than to flop on your bed and stay in there for the rest of your miserable life. But, like the universe was trying to give you the biggest middle finger ever, one of the loops on your clothes got caught on the corner of a counter. While you'd normally just take it off and go on your merry way, you weren't having it today and just yanked yourself forward, tearing the loop and the fabric it was connected to.

Finally making it to your room, you flopped on the bed face-first, muffling the loud groan that came from you. You stayed like that for a moment longer before turning your head, remembering to breathe deeply.

Two knocks came from the door. "You okay?" Your boyfriend, Alhaitham, asked, leaning against the frame as he stared at you.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself," you muttered bitterly, wincing at the accusatory tone in your voice. You sighed, deciding to face him. "Sorry."

He shrugged, walking to sit on the edge of your shared bed. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his expression unchanging even when he watched your brows furrow in irritation.

"It's just... Ugh," you grumbled, rolling your eyes childishly. "Just a bad week. It feels like everything's going against me." You rolled onto your back, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. "I don't think I can catch up."

"You're in the Akademiya," Alhaitham said, giving you a look that made it seem like he didn't know why you were complaining. "Obviously it's going to be hard for you."

"'For you,'" you repeated, glaring at nothing in particular, but it was getting increasingly evident that you were beginning to direct your anger towards him. "Of course you don't get it. You've been smart your whole life."

He was quiet for a moment, letting you try to calm yourself before speaking again. "Don't sell yourself short like that. It's unhealthy."

You huffed. "It's not selling myself short if it's actually true." You pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw faint fireworks coloring the darkness. "I have to redo an essay because apparently it didn't go with damn prompt. Then I have to do another one, and I don't even know where to start, and—" you listed off your problems, your voice getting higher in pitch until you were on the verge of shedding tears, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of work you accidentally accumulated.

"Hey," he interrupted you, leaning to place a hand on your thigh. "Calm down." He gave you an unimpressed look when you snapped your mouth open to retort, watching you begrudgingly close it in defeat. "Breathe. You're getting worked up over things you can change."

But when you could hardly focus on utilizing the breathing techniques he taught you, he decided to take a different approach. "Let's have sex, then."

"What? Why? 'Cause of the post-nut clarity?" You sighed, rubbing your temple to stave off the impending headache after staring at him incredulously. Damn. Sometimes you forget how straightforward he could be.

Alhaitham gave you a look. It was deadpan—because when was it not?—but you could still sense the slightest bit of confusion. "If that's how you want to word it, yes," he said, before elaborating. "Sex can also help you relax and improve your immune system."

He quickly looked you up and down, and despite not saying anything, you knew what he was trying to imply. You looked like a mess.

"It can also help improve your quality of sleep," he added, crossing his arms against his chest. "It has a few other benefits than just feeling good, you know." He watched you ponder his suggestion, chewing on your lip absentmindedly before giving in with a sigh.

"Fine. But you're doing all the work," you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.

"That was the plan." The corners of his lips quirked up in a brief, subtle smirk as he leaned to place his hands on your shoulders to gently push you back down. "Just relax."

He continued when you nodded, running his hands along your body, gently caressing every curve and contour of your frame. An eyebrow raised in question when he felt the torn patch in your clothes but decided against mentioning it as he guided you out of your suffocating uniform with practiced ease. Already, you seemed a bit calmer than earlier, giving yourself a well-deserved stretch that made you remind him of a cat.

You felt the tension beginning to seep out of your body with every article of clothing that was carelessly tossed to the floor, reaching your hands out to tug him closer. He obliged without hesitation, sighing in satisfaction when he melded his lips with yours. His hands slid below your underclothes, snaking them upwards until they found your chest. He tweaked and pinched your nipples as he moved his way downwards, placing kisses along your jawline and neck.

You softly moaned, brushing your fingers through his hair that had him leaning into your hand. He removed your shirt, trailing appreciative kisses down your sternum. A hand made its way down your front toward your pants, slipping a hand inside to wrap his fingers around your flaccid dick. Your breath hitched, instinctively widening your legs to give him better access, much to his pleasure.

He was gentle; his hands were soft and careful, and neither of you were in a rush. You felt your eyes flutter shut as your lips parted with every quiet gasp and sigh that left you, and he couldn't help but stare.

It annoyed him how little you thought of yourself when he could clearly see you as something more. Sure, it irked him how you complained about things that could easily be changed if you put your effort into it, but you were also right. He always had it academically easy and often found it hard to connect with others or understand their problems on a level that wasn't with you. He was well aware of this issue, knowing that it often hindered his ability to comfort, and—for the first time in how long?—it frustrated him.

Even if he had no idea how to properly soften his words around you or to consistently change his facial expressions, he always showed he cared by spending time with you, teaching you new things, or helping you understand foreign concepts. But even then, he was willing to try to tell you that you were more than what those pompous Akademiya professors reduced you to, that you were better than what you said you were.

"Look at me," he said, his voice soft and smooth, coaxing your pretty eyes open. He slipped his hands out of your shirt and cupped your cheeks tenderly, ensuring your focus on him. "It doesn't matter what everyone says about you when they don't understand that you have strengths that rest beyond the traditional Akademiya expectations."

"But that doesn't—"

He gave you yet another stern look, to which you quieted down with a huff. "It's okay to struggle. Everyone does at some point. Even those professors found something difficult before they became what they are. But you know what they did?"

He paused, gauging your reaction. He was aware that what he was saying probably didn't make you feel better or make the most sense, but he hoped that you could feel the sincerity in his voice. "They took a step back, took a deep breath, and figured out what they were doing wrong. They didn't do that overnight or by working themselves to the bone. That's what you need to acknowledge."

"But all my other colleagues are doing fine, and I'm the only one struggling..." You appreciated his words, truly, but they did little to quell your worries.

"Are you? How do you know that for sure?" He countered, sliding his hands down to caress your hips. He watched you pursed your lips, squirming slightly under his gaze. "Point is, you shouldn't try to compare yourself to everyone around you and overwork yourself because that only leads to bad work and a bigger hole for you to climb out of. You have everything else to be proud of—not just your academic qualities. Understand? Besides, you made it into the Akademiya. That's something very few people can do in the first place."

You looked away with a frown, but you nodded softly. Even though it sucked knowing that you weren't the best, he did have a point. Wallowing in your own failure did nothing to better yourself, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Thanks," you muttered, sniffling a little. His thumbs swiped underneath your eyes, clearing away any of the tears that happened to escape you.

"Don't let them define you. Define yourself," he said finally, leaning back down to kiss you again. It was soft, tender, unhurried, like he wanted you to feel every ounce of affection he harbored for you. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Do you still want to do this?"

You nodded again, giving him a quick peck to the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Mhm. I really need those benefits." Plus, you didn't favor being horny and sad.

Your lips curved in a smug grin when you saw his own quirk upwards in amusement, but he didn't comment on it. He sat up to tug your pants and underwear down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You shivered instinctively but kept your focus on him, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.

He leaned over to grab a bottle of lube from your nightstand, squeezing a generous amount on his fingers before pressing one into your hole. You sighed, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. He only offered a few pumps of his hand before adding a second one in, gently spreading them apart in a scissoring motion.

He wrapped his free hand around your cock, slowly jerking you off. He rubbed his thumb over the tip to smear the precum across your skin as wet sounds gradually filled the room. You noticed his eyes locked on your face and the expressions you wore, committing them to memory. He added a third finger for good measure, feeling you tense reflexively before relaxing just as fast.

"You're doing so good, [Name]," he praised, his voice low. He curled his fingers, pressing them against your prostate. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan, straining against the fabric. "I'm almost done. Then we can start."

You nodded, inhaling sharply through your nose when he began targeting the sensitive spot inside you. You could practically feel every surge of heat shoot up and down your spine, ending at your fingertips. Alhaitham could feel it too, every time your cock throbbed in his hold.

Your body felt warm and tingly when he moved both hands away from your body, wiping them off using a few tissues atop your nightstand. He grabbed the lube again and poured some on his palm to coat his cock, using his free hand to spread one of your thighs a bit wider. He peered up through his lashes, subtly raising an eyebrow in question. He continued as soon as you nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

You both let out a satisfied groan as he filled you, grasping onto his wrists as he held onto your hips.

"Fuck," he hissed, pushing further until he bottomed out completely. "You're such a good boy. You're taking me in so well." He perked up in attention when he felt you tighten at his words, noting how your eyes fluttered shut like you were savoring them. He wasn't overly aware of this newfound information, but maybe you had accidentally brought it to his attention now that you're stressed?

Either way, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to continue. “You feel so good, [Name]," he praised, leaning down to press his lips against the skin underneath your earlobe. You could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He let you take a moment to adjust to him before moving, gently thrusting his hips.

You noticed him moving away again as you opened your eyes, finding yourself enamored with the way his muscles flexed in every movement of his. Soft gasps and moans left your lips when you looked up, instantly noticing his gaze on you.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled shyly, squirming a bit. It wasn’t that you hated having him look at you—frankly, that’s all you longed for sometimes, it’s just that what you did hit you. Being as vulnerable as you were wasn’t something you preferred, even when Alhaitham didn’t berate you for it.

“You were staring at me, first,” he countered swiftly, and you could hear the rare undertone of his amusement in his voice. It was your favorite sound. “Besides, what’s the harm in looking at the most handsome man in Sumeru?” His monotony nearly made his words laughable, but you could see that he was genuinely trying. Knowing that sent butterflies in your stomach all over again.

You looked away, effectively flustered with all his attention. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Only because you make it embarrassing,” he said, sliding a hand upwards to toy with one of your nipples. He subtly shifted his hips, angling them so that his cock better pressed against your prostate. He watched you intently when you let out a throaty moan, feeling his dick throb inside you.

You reflexively clenched your thighs tighter against his hips, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. You snaked a hand down to your leaking cock, wrapping your fingers around the base to give it a squeeze. “You can go faster,” you muttered, looking down to watch the way he slid in and out of you.

He nodded with a quiet hum, adjusting his grip on your waist to shift the weight on his knees to sacrifice his slower, deeper thrusts for quick and shallow ones. Moaning, you jerked yourself off in time with his movements, unable to tear your gaze away from him, even for a moment. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you brought your free hand up to bring him closer to you by the back of his head. You kissed him needily and fervently, letting out noises that mixed in with the wet sounds that came from your hole. Your body rocked gently, listening intently to the rustling of your bedsheets and Alhaitham’s deep, husky breaths.

Suddenly, he lifted a hand up to place over your abdomen, lightly pushing down on it just as he buried himself balls deep inside you. He paused for a moment, sighing as he watched you squirm at the sudden stop before continuing, feeling himself move in and out of you. You could feel the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust to your prostate, back arching, legs tightening around his waist.

“Fuck, I’m…” you panted, clenching tighter around his cock. “I’m so close, ‘Haitham.”

“I know. I can feel you,” he said, gently moving your hand away from your leaking cock to wrap his fingers around it. Quiet slaps mixed in with your soft noises and his breathy grunts as he fucked you a bit harder, eyes fixated on the blissful expression on in your face. His dick throbbed inside you as he eagerly chased after his own orgasm, leaning down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing up towards your ear.

“C’mon, [Name], cum for me,” he whispered, sending yet another wave of heat shoot up and down your spine. You could hardly stop the stream of moans that spilled from your lips as he focused on the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb on the sensitive spot just below it, as if trying to coax out your cum.

“Oh god,” your voice was strained as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten to an unbearable degree, trying to hold out just a little longer. “F—Fuck! Alhaitham!” You moaned in ecstasy when you finally came, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. You tensed and trembled as your dick spurt cum on your stomach and his fingers as he helped you ride out your high.

“You’re so beautiful when you orgasm,” he groaned, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm as he neared his own climax. He dug his fingers into your waist tighter, muttering praises into your ear when you began squirming at the discomfort of your overstimulation. It didn’t take much longer for him to finish as he stilled, gritting his teeth when he quickly pulled out to stroke himself to completion. He sighed in satisfaction when his orgasm subsided, leaving your abdomen coated in ropes of his cum.

“Wh—Why did you pull out?” You panted, wiping a bead of sweat off of your forehead.

“Isn’t it annoying to clean up afterward? You're always complaining about it whenever we have sex,” he questioned after a moment, taking a second to bask in the afterglow before getting up to reach for a tissue to clean your skin. He put his pants back on, gathering your clothes to put them in a laundry basket.

You shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. But I’m gonna take a bath either way.” You blinked in confusion when you saw him quirk a brow, fidgeting a bit when he didn’t stop staring at you.

“No. You’re going to sit and wait here while I make you something to eat, first,” he instructed, leaving no room for negotiation. “Afterwards, you’re going to go to sleep. Then you can take a bath when you wake up.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled audibly, quickly reminding you that you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "But then I'm gonna be all sticky and gross when I eat," you said, knowing how much he disliked having dirty bedsheets for too long. It surprised you when he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to decide.

"If you want to take a bath first, then I'll help you," he offered. You swiftly nodded, wanting to eat clean and comfortably. He nodded and told you to wait for a moment as he prepared the water for you, leaving you by yourself for a while until he returned. The two of you walked into the bathroom where a bathtub of warm water awaited you. But just as you raised your leg to enter, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame you. Luckily, Alhaitham was there to keep you from falling with a firm hand on your arm, carefully helping you into the water.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes darting across your face for any sign of distress. He relaxed upon seeing nothing but waited for your response for further confirmation.

"Yeah. It's just something that happens when I get too hungry, y'know?" You explained sheepishly, splashing some of the water onto your arms and back.

"No, I don't know." He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. "I'll be right back, then."

You hummed to yourself, not minding his absence as you savored the warmth surrounding you, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You nearly fell asleep in the time it took for Alhaitham to return, jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," he spoke, returning to your side with a bowl in his hand. "Eat this for now."

He kneeled down, bringing the bowl close enough to let you reach in and take whatever was inside. They were fruits, you saw as you happily grabbed one, tossing it into your mouth. You had to stop yourself from grabbing a handful and eating it all in one go, forcing yourself to appreciate every bite. You noticed him shifting behind you, leaning forward instinctively when he began cleaning your back with a small, wet towel.

The two of you basked in the comforting silence for a while as you let him take care of you until you turned your head to face him. "I love you," you said with a little grin.

"I know," he replied, putting the bowl onto the floor.

"Say it back." You pouted, but you knew he was only teasing.

His mouth quirked up in a faint smile, leaning forward to give you a quick peck on your lips. "I love you too."

533 notes · View notes

stardust-kenobi · 1 year

Text

A Good Night's Rest

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Din was your best friend, but you wanted him to be so much more. Turns out he feels the same way.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, helmetless din, virgin!reader, SOFT MANDO <3

A/N: we will all collectively just pretend there’s a little guest room in the razorcrest, otherwise everyone’s fuckin on the cold floor ok and we cannot allow it.

“Dammit” You cursed at the dreaded transmitter that was probably older than you were.

Being a mechanic had its perks, but it truly had its challenges, too. Especially when you’d been assigned long-term work on a ship as old as the Razor Crest. Of course, a perk to that would be traveling with a Mandalorian. It was a rough couple of months getting him just to hold a conversation with you, but almost a year later, you'd never been more connected or closer to anyone else in your whole life. He was undoubtedly your best friend.

“Don’t worry about it. That thing has never worked right” Din said, startling you as he entered the cockpit. He was dismissive of the transmitter, which was all the more reason you wanted to fix it.

Sighing out in frustration, you accepted defeat. For now, anyways.

“I’ll get it figured out eventually” You assured him.

“If you say so" He chuckled softly.

"Are you doubting my capabilities?" You teased him.

"No, I am doubting the probability of that thing ever working again"

"That's fair" You smirked before looking back to your unfinished work.

"How are the engines looking? Are we good to go?" He asked.

"Yep. Everything else is looking good. Are we leaving tonight?"

"I'd like to get a good night's rest first. We can leave in the morning" He confirmed, leaning against the metal siding of the cockpit.

"Sounds good to me" You smiled back softly, subtly admiring his stance beside you.

"I'll probably go to bed soon" Din said, his sleeplessness showing itself in his voice.

A fun idea crept into your mind.

"Why waste such a perfect night to break this baby in?" You giggled as you pulled the bottle of liquor from the cabinet in the cockpit.

"How did you get that?" He said with a head tilt, questioning where and when you had the opportunity to acquire alcohol.

You raised your brows and shrugged your shoulders, "I stole it"

"Well, I assumed that" Din iterated, taking the bottle into his hand and observing the label, "but I am not surprised"

You watched as he looked around, as if trying to find some reason why he shouldn't indulge in some light drinking with his best friend tonight.

"I'll just be drinking all by myself, if you're not joining me" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Fine” He gave in, sitting himself down in the pilot’s seat next to you in the copilot’s seat.

For a little while, you two indulged in the intoxicating effects of the liquor. You knew your limits and so did he. You stopped just before feeling your inhibitions slip away but felt fuzzy enough inside to enjoy the feeling.

Respectfully, you opted to look away whenever he took a sip, so as to not catch a glimpse of even his chin as he tipped the liquor into his mouth. His movements were slow as he set his glass down, and with your peripheral vision, you noted that he was done. With all the time you’d spent around him, you couldn’t actually imagine him actually having a face, he was just a helmet with a gentle voice. But you loved him.

Oh stars, you loved him…

The chances of him feeling the same were slim, but one more sip and you might just tell him.

As you stared at him, you were met with flashbacks of one particular night not too long ago. Din had accidentally walked in on you masturbating, and you didn’t notice he was there until a couple of seconds had passed. He couldn’t make himself look away from you in such a state, but the guilt of unintentionally invading your privacy ate at him every day since. Since that night, things had been a little bit awkward between you two

Not a single word was exchanged between you two, he just slowly walked out. You probably didn’t come out of your room for another day, and even now, you still hadn’t talked about it.

What he didn’t know it was him you were thinking about while you pleasured yourself.

“This stuff is…” You began, holding the bottle out and tilting your gaze at it.

“Strong?” Din finished your sentence.

“Very” you giggled in response.

Din stared at you for what felt like forever, the tension pulling tighter between your gazes. There was something so odd about the way his head pointed in your general direction just gave you butterflies. You wished so desperately to look into his eyes for real.

“I, um” He began, tripping on his own words before his thoughts were fully developed.

“What is it?” You tilted your head.

He paused, and looked at the ground, before turning back to you.

“I need to sleep” He sighed.

“Okay. It just seemed like you were going to say something?”

Please let him say that he loves you too.

“I don’t think I’ve drank enough to say it”

“Maybe I have” You pondered. It spilled off your tongue like honey, “I'm in love with you"

Okay where the fuck did that confidence come from?

He was still. More still than usual, if that were even possible. The thumping of your heart against the restraints of your chest rang terribly loud in your ears. If he’d said anything in the seconds that followed, you wouldn’t have even heard it. Any attempt to read his emotions was blocked by the shining reflection of his visor.

But he was silent, and you could only guess why…he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“I’m..” He tried to begin, but fell short of his words.

“Don’t” You began as mortification consumed you, “don’t say anything”

He remained stoic, and painfully quiet. Providing no goodbye or goodnight, you got up and made your way to your quarters on the Crest. Din didn’t stop you. He didn’t flinch, in fact, he barely breathed.

The frigid metal against your arms shot chills down your spine as you leaned against the door you had just closed behind you to your room.

The distant sounds of his footsteps carrying across the ship, led right to your door very shortly after you stormed off.

"Y/N" His soft, modulated voice rang the other side of the door, following a gentle knock.

What do you even say to him now that you've confessed something so bold to someone you're in such close proximity to all the time?

You slowly pulled the door open and were met with Din’s towering figure.

"I'm in love with you, too" He admitted quickly.

Now you found that it was you whose words were failing them. A choked breath hitched in your throat as you processed what he said.

"Y-you do?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"Yes. I did not know what to say before. I wasn't expecting you to say that" He said softly, his tone growing timid.

You stepped back and let him enter your crowded quarters, which truly was only enough space for your small bed and a cabinet. The forced proximity to him heightened the tension even further. You sat on the edge of your bed, and he mirrored you, finding only inches of space next to you.

"I want to kiss you" You blurted softly.

"I want to kiss you too, Y/N. I'm sorry I can't" He responded, cautiously placing his hand on your knee.

"I know what you can do" You suggested.

Your trembling fingers wrapped around the gloved material of his hand and guided it in between your legs. There was no resistance from either of you, but you sensed his nerves as well as your own.

The shifting of your hips told him you wanted him to move. He rubbed against your aching and sensitive bud through the rough of your pants. You wanted him bare against your skin, but you knew this needed to be slow.

Too shy to just let him watch the look of pleasure upon your face, you buried your head into his shoulder while he rubbed your clit. He groaned as you let a faint whimper escape you…a sound he’d only dreamed of hearing before.

"Are you sure?" He begged for reassurance.

"Are you?" You countered him.

“Yes” He assured with no hesitation, like he’d been waiting for you for years.

“I’ve never done this before” You muttered lowly, ashamed to admit it, but knowing it was necessary for him to be aware that you were a virgin.

“Ever?” He leaned back.

You shook your head in confirmation.

Din froze in his tracks, halting his rhythmic motions at your core. You worried he wouldn’t want to be your first. You worried it would be too much pressure for him to make it special for you.

He pulled away completely.

Something you’d never seen him do before caught your immediate attention. Slowly, his fingers curled underneath the bottom edge of his helmet and lifted it from his head. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Din what are y-”

You couldn’t even remember to breathe as his face came to view. His brown hair lay so perfectly pressed to his head, restricted for so long by the constraints of his mask. He wasn't a stranger. This wasn't unfamiliar. It was him.

And he was beautiful.

His creed meant nothing to him in that moment…the moment he finally was able to stare into your eyes for real. Nothing mattered to him except you. A lump grew quickly in your throat, and you welcomed it as a tear fell from your eye.

"You deserve for this to be special, Y/N. You deserve to look into the eyes of the man who loves you"

The rapid fire of your beating heart skipped over itself. His voice was smooth and raw...and scared. His entire life has been spent hiding away from everyone he has ever cared about behind that helmet. But now...he truly sees you.

"Din" You breathed.

The second that his lips brushed against yours, the world around you fell silent. Fingertips trailed along your jaw before moving to wrap themselves in your hair. Din was delicate and careful. He worried he'd break you if he didn't control his desire that had pent itself up for months of being near you.

You were tremendously overwhelmed with surprise and butterflies, which fueled your hunger for him as he found familiarity in your lips, and pressed harder into the kiss. His trembling hand returned in between your legs, applying pressure against your clit through your pants.

Din was no stranger to sex, but he was a stranger to your body, and a stranger to loving you in the way he was always aching to.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N” Din whispered against your lips.

He motioned for you to lie back, and guided you with his arm pressed gently into the curve of your back. You fiddled with the clasp of your pants, but his hand replaced your own and successfully unfastened it. You worked to remove them, but Din helped you peel them down your legs.

Nothing could have pulled your admirable gaze away from him. There were no words to describe how beautiful he was. Din hovered above you, staring right back in disbelief of having you beneath him like this. Your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, your palm finally resting against the scruff of his cheek. His eyes fell shut, being so touch-starved that he melted in your grasp.

Din knew that he wanted to stay like this forever, but he also knew how badly he needed to be inside you. As he stood to his feet and removed his armor, revealing the soft material beneath it that clung to his skin, your thighs clenched together in anticipation. With his continued help, he carefully lifted your shirt above your head, revealing you wore nothing beneath it. The guttural moan that grazed your ear when he saw your breasts sent a wave of heat between your legs.

His finger looped around the hem of your panties and awaited your confirmation before eagerly removing them.

You were nervous. Stars you were so nervous. Somehow you found comfort in studying his face, watching his reaction to seeing your exposed body on display for him.

Your lips intertwined again. The supple caress of his hand traveling up your thigh sent chills down your spine. It only took one light touch against your folds for him to feel how bad you wanted him. Suddenly you felt one finger slide inside of you.

He broke away from devouring your lips, “Is this okay?”

“Yes” You breathed.

What he did with his fingers felt beyond anything you’d ever done to yourself. He curled his finger as he pumped it in and out of you, savoring the sound of your slickness wrapped around his digits. You grinded against his hand, signaling him to move faster.

Din watched you, enamored with your expression and how you melted for him just by the touch of his hand. Stars began forming in your eyes as the haze of your orgasm crept up slowly. Din felt the walls of your cunt tightening slightly as he went faster.

“It feels so good, Din, please don’t stop”

And he didn’t stop. Stars, he’d do anything you asked of him. Especially now.

With the arching of your back, Din knew you’d reached your release. You cried out for him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck, shutting your eyes tight, overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

“Look at me, cyar’ika” He instructed. Your eyes flew up to stare deep into his beautiful brown eyes.

Your release overtook your entire body, sending a heated flash of vibration across your skin, tingling and centering at the thrusts of his fingers.

“There you go sweetheart, you’re doing so good” He praised.

You rode out your high as he talked you through it. Unable to fathom the total ecstasy you were feeling. Your breathing was heavy as you floated back down, and you then realized how tightly your hands were gripping his body. As you flashed him a smile, he softly smiled back, his eyes scanning your body and face.

As you reached for his pants, he hurriedly removed his shirt followed by his pants, now leaving him completely bare for you too. You stared at his cock, impressed by his size, and clenched your cunt around nothing as your body begged for him.

You spread your legs for him, as his hips situated themselves to fit perfectly between them.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. Just then, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, before he finally buried himself completely inside of you. A whimper of slight discomfort escaped you, and Din planted a soft kiss upon your open mouth to soothe you. You were so tightly wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Din.

Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to relax. A lustful whimper fell from your lips, showing Din that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts found perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to moan softly with you.

Your eyes meet and lock on each other while he continues to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Din” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, and your skin burned with such a wonderful fire. You were sure that you’d never get enough of his lips against yours.

“You are so beautiful, cyar’ika” He whispered, his hand traveling down between your breasts, familiarizing himself with the feeling of your skin against his. Taking one of your breasts into his hand, he squeezed it gently.

“Harder” You begged him. He looked at you with uncertainty, but wouldn’t dare deny you.

He began fucking you faster, now. As his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips, your moans grew louder and more intense. Din loved every sound you made. He was quieter than you, but his whimpering was music to your ears.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer” He faltered in his thrusts as he got close to his release.

You nodded and pulled his face into yours, kissing him hard. Your lips against his pushed him over the edge. His fist gripped the sheets as he came, his moans deeper and louder than before.

“Fuck, Y/N” He cried out.

The warmth of his release coated your walls, and you cherished the feeling of truly being filled by him. All of him.

The room was filled with only the sound of your beating hearts and the gradual rate of your breathing coming down to normal. Din was careful when he removed himself from you, and the second he did, you already missed feeling him so close. He lay next to you, your warm bodies still pressed close to each other. The silence between you spoke louder than any words you could manage to speak.

“Are you okay?” He asked while caressing your cheek.

You smiled warmly at him. There was a soreness you felt inside, but it was a sensation you welcomed if it meant that Din was the one to take your virginity.

“I’m more than okay” You assured him, “that was everything I ever hoped it would be”

“I love you, Y/N” He said sweetly, warming your soul as he said it.

“I love you, too”

———————

Taglist: @lokigirlszendaya

2K notes · View notes

diorsluv · 17 days

Text

infrunami (lh⁴³)

❝ in which you’ve always been in love with your childhood best friend, but he would always be the right person at the wrong time ❞

wc: 5.8k

warnings: god there’s so much angst, reader is kinda inconsistent, mentions of blood/injury, mutual pining, idiots in love, running away from “rejection”, reader is touchy with jack and besties with quinn, no use of y/n, if i missed any lmk!!

notes ) when i tell you this took me WEEKS and WEEKS just to compile a simple 5k fic.. i think it’s kinda obvious where i stopped and started back up but i tried to blend it in as best i could!! this will be a two parter simply because i was draining myself trying to drag it on, so stay tuned (might take a while)! AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST thank you to my wonderful, amazing, supportive wife @dior-roses for beta reading this (i was terrified)

As a kid, you always moved wherever the Hughes moved—it was something about the bond between your fathers that couldn’t keep your families apart for more than a week. Regardless of how many times you moved, you never felt alone. You and Luke were in the same grade, and Quinn and Jack were always looking out for you two, so isolation was never a concern for you.

Although you were inseparable with Luke, Quinn had always been your best friend. The four-year age difference between the two of you was almost invisible, and throughout your youth, you would always find yourself in his room, staring at the ceiling as you talked about everything.

You would tell him about your silly school girl crushes, and he would ramble to you about hockey and all the petty drama that happened around him. In fact, he was the reason you learned hockey in the first place. Your father could never keep your attention on the sport for over five minutes, but the way Quinn talked about it so lovingly was what motivated you to step on the ice.

Your love for hockey spurred your relationship with not only Quinn, but also Luke and Jack, to grow closer than ever. Every day in school, you and Luke would gush about the games you had watched the night prior, and every day after school, all four of you would head off to practice for your respective club teams. If you weren’t already inseparable from the way your families were bound together by an invisible rope, then you were forever connected through hockey.

You quit after a few years to pursue more academic routes, but the sport never left your spirit. There were many occasions where the boys would refuse to play if you weren’t there, simply because your presence was the only thing to motivate them to get on the ice, especially if they were having a bad week.

Somehow, though, along the way, you caught feelings. Feelings that were far too heavy to have just surfaced from the depths of your heart. No, what you felt for Luke seemed to have always been creeping just between the line of what was certain and what was unknown. There was no other explanation as to why you couldn’t handle being in the same room as him without being on the verge of exploding. There was no other reason as to why you could spend months on end with either of his brothers but couldn’t last one minute sitting beside him.

As soon as you came to that revelation, you were done for. It was over. You would rather die than acknowledge the feelings you caught for the boy that had been by your side since you were born. Because of that, you spent all your time with your best friend and his younger brother, and both your families sensed the shift as soon as it happened.

Especially Luke.

Oh, the poor boy, his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized you were avoiding him. You held your breath every time he stepped into the same room as you, let alone when he tried to stand remotely close to you. You diverted your attention away from him as much as you could, and the boy you once knew as your other half now seemed to be universes away.

It was your doing, but in a way, it was his. How dare he make you fall for him? It wasn’t fair. Not to you, and definitely not to him. It wasn’t fair how he could make you fold in seconds with the way he looked at you from the other side of the room but simultaneously have a girl wrapped around his arm trying to take all his attention away from you. He was the only boy on your mind, but he always managed to push you to the darkest parts of his brain, putting you on hold when the more important girls were right in front of him.

If only you knew.

Quinn bounded down the stairs of your lake house, which was conveniently right next to the Hughes’, with an old framed photo in his hand. “Hah! I was right!” His exclamations took your attention away from the pasta you were cooking as you now turned to his self-righteous figure. “You would never let go of that stupid plushie.”

The two of you were arguing over what (and who) you were and were not inseparable with just prior to his search for the picture, and he claimed there were multiple photos of you hugging your favorite Elmo plushie. There was a mutual agreement that Luke was one of the things—or rather, people—you couldn’t fathom to be away from, but neither you nor Quinn had to verbally confirm it. There was no need.

And, to be completely honest, Quinn had barely spoken about his youngest brother throughout the time you’d been spending at the lake houses. A few years back, you had reluctantly told him how you felt about Luke, and ever since then, he’d made it his mission to make you feel the most comfortable you could possibly be whilst sharing a connected lake house with the boy you’ve loved since you were children. The eldest saw the way you tensed up when you recognized his brother’s footsteps creaking down the stairs when it came time to eat breakfast, and he sure as hell saw the way your eyes blew wide whenever you accidentally made contact with him.

It scared you how much Quinn seemed to notice about you, especially since he and his brothers were all busy with their demanding careers that left little to no time to be tending to some childhood friend who was stuck with a crush on the most recently debuted boy. Yes, he was still your best friend (that much hadn’t changed since your childhood), but all you could do was FaceTime each other, and even then, it was difficult to find time. It was the same with Jack; sometimes, they would be too tired for practice; other times, they would be exhausted from a home game and possibly frustrated had they lost; and most of the time, they weren’t even home, so the time difference, albeit miniscule, was still difficult to navigate considering you were a busy person too.

That meant that you met up as much as you could and you stuck by each other’s side until you were forced apart by the demands of being a professional hockey player. All that time together when you were younger meant you struggled to be without each other as you got older—maybe your parents should’ve realized that, but then again, it was probably their intention.

“Okay, I did let go of it. Multiple times, actually,” you refuted with a small frown, the expression on your face practically meaningless as your best friend laughed. It only egged him on further, evoking a complaint from your lips. “Quinn! It’s not funny!”

“I mean, it kinda is.” He struggled to stifle his laughter as he rounded the kitchen island to stand beside you. Your hand mindlessly dragged the wooden spoon through the soft noodles floating around in the boiling hot water, and he wondered how your skin wasn’t burning. Gently removing your hand from the utensil and replacing it with his own, the eldest Hughes boy continued his teasing once he looked at your still-upset face. “You’re such a kid sometimes, you know that?”

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head in annoyance. Quinn always said that to you. Always. He never failed to address you as ‘kid,’ and no matter what you did, he always managed to bring it back to how you ‘were such a kid.’ You huffed, “You’re so fucking annoying, Quinny. I’m gonna go piss off Jack. Keep cooking, and if you burn the house down, you’re paying for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I’m a millionaire.” His laughter filled your ears once again, and your only response was the finger you lifted at him over your shoulder.

After walking out of the kitchen of your own lake house, you took a few strides over to the sliding doors that led to the connected portion of your two homes. Your father and Jim had built it together, way back when all four of you were far too young to understand what normal lake houses were supposed to look like. It was essentially a screened-in sunroom overlooking the absolute beauty of a lake out front. They managed to hook up a large, flat-screen television on the wall, throwing a couple bean bag chairs and a rug into the room. The rest of the furnishing was left completely up to you and the Hughes brothers, so the furniture would change up every few visits.

Oftentimes, you would find Luke there, just sitting against the one wall that had a bit of a bump-out. He liked the way it felt against his back, like it actually supported him compared to the fluffy chairs that laid in the middle of the room. Whether he be on his phone, playing video games, or reading a book that was required for summer class, he would always be in the sunroom. The floor directly before the bump-out was much more worn compared to the rest of the room, the discolored wood showing just how often the youngest Hughes would find himself in the confines of the area.

There were many times when Luke would flee to the sunroom in his times of need, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. If anyone were to try to enter the room and speak to him, he wouldn’t respond. He would only ever talk to you. You were the one and only person to talk him out of his thoughts, the only one who could convince him to leave the room. Those nights were comprised of him refusing to leave your bed and whining if you got up in the middle of the night.

You missed it.

But you weren’t kids anymore. And, again, it was your fault you weren’t close anymore. You deliberately distanced yourself from him.

After pulling yourself away from your own thoughts, you tugged the Hughes’ sliding door open, the smell of freshly grilled shrimp welcoming you into the cozy house.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ellen’s soothing voice called out to you, smiling at you from her place at the kitchen sink. “How’s the pasta going?” The sound of the running water could barely be heard over the hockey game playing on the television, your father entertaining Jim and his youngest son with light chirps towards the losing team.

You could feel Luke’s eyes set on you. Shrugging, you replied, “I told Quinny to take over and not burn the house down.”

This was a regular occurrence whenever you came back to the lake for the break. You, your mother and Ellen would split up the food duties so that there was a lot of food but didn’t take too much time to cook everything. Quinn and Jack would help out a bit, but they would only ever take on the physical tasks. Luke used to help out when you were children, but ever since the distance you wedged between the two of you, he stopped helping out as much.

You looked around for Jack, trying your hardest to avoid Luke’s gaze in your search for his older brother. Ellen had now returned to her cooking, and the fathers were too invested in their conversation for you to intervene. Your eyes were darting everywhere but at your ex-best friend, and as soon as you made eye contact, you couldn’t look away.

It was too difficult.

It was so stupid.

It wasn’t fair.

His hazel eyes were too pretty. The way he looked at you made it hard to deny him the satisfaction of giving him attention. He looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon, but you couldn’t see that. You were blinded by your abundance of self-deprecating thoughts to notice.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice being drowned out due to the other activities occurring throughout the house. You mouthed the same word back, fighting the urge to walk over to him and apologize for avoiding him, apologize for distancing yourself from the one person you know you could never live without. If you allowed yourself to break, you would never forgive yourself. He doesn’t like you back, you told yourself. You can’t embarrass yourself.

So, instead of going with your heart, you went with your brain and made your way upstairs. If Jack wasn’t downstairs, then he had to have been upstairs doing God knows what.

“Jack?” You called out, running your hand along the railing of the staircase once you neared the top.

“In here!” His muffled voice came through the door to his bedroom, and you’ve seen him in enough compromising positions to the point where you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to be cautious. Once you opened the door, you were met with four gazes planted straight on you. You suddenly felt exposed despite your thick pajamas and only felt some sort of reassurance when you found Jack’s eyes. “Look who finally came up here!”

All four boys sat on Jack’s bed with controllers in their hands, the game on the TV now paused as their attention focused solely on you. You knew Trevor, Alex, and Cole, but you hadn’t seen them in so long that it felt awkward. “Oh, uh, hey. Quinn’s probably gonna burn my house down and I didn’t wanna be down there with Lukey, so,” you trailed off, pursing your lips.

“You’re still on that?” Alex questioned with furrowed eyebrows, placing the controller in his lap. You cocked your head to the side, not quite understanding what the boy was talking about. He continued, “I thought you got over him, like, months ago.”

Right. You had forgotten all about your accidental drunk confession the last time Jack’s friends were over. Last summer, your revelation was fresh on your mind, and you and Luke were still as inseparable as ever. His friends had also visited the lake house at the same time everyone else was staying over, so it made for a ton of chaos and little to no privacy.

Luke and his friends had left the house to go out, and for the first time, you stayed behind. Trevor and Cole were sitting at the fire pit outside, beers in their hands as they discussed the upcoming camps they were to attend. You were on your fifth drink, and although Jack was keeping an eye on you, he hadn’t noticed how you had accidentally walked into the bathroom while Alex was in the process of throwing up.

In the midst of your tipsy daze and the fact that it just so happened to be Luke’s bathroom, you called out for him. “Luke? Is that you? You know I’m always telling you not to drink that much, stupid.” You used your foot to shut the door behind you as you placed your drink onto the counter.

Alex, confused but sobering up, looked up at you with puffy eyes. Only then did he notice how you were much more than tipsy.

Your gaze was blurry and your words were beginning to slur, “If I didn’t like you so much, maybe I would be more mad at you. I don’t know why I like you, anyway. You’re always being so stupid, ‘cause you can’t see that all those girls are only ever using you for your brother or your body. They’re so mean. And I’m your best friend, not them! You always ditch me when you find another girl, and then they say shit about me behind my back. I don’t like them. What do you even see in them? God, what do I even see in you?

“My stomach hurts. I think I’m thinking about this too much. Or maybe I’m thinking about you too much. I hate you so much, Lukey, but I can’t ever hate you. You’re too pretty. This is so unfair and my head is pounding. Oh, God, I’m gonna throw up. Move over.” After your little monologue, which was definitely not directed towards the person on the receiving end, you were quick to fall to the ground beside the toilet and dip your head past the ceramic seat.

Alex brought his right hand up to flush the toilet so you didn’t accidentally stuff your face in a load of his vomit, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on your back. “‘m not Luke, but you’re safe with me.” He continued his motions throughout the five-minute duration of your illness, bringing his hand up to massage your head once you were sure you were done.

Your head was pounding and your ears began to ring, but you were visibly more sober compared to how you were a few minutes ago. Barely able to lift your head, you thanked your friend with a weak smile.

He only returned your expression and brought you up to your feet, leading you out of the restroom and towards Jack’s room. It obviously wasn’t the best option to bring you to Luke’s room, albeit being the default room after a long night, so his older brother’s bedroom would have to do.

Alex laid you down onto the mattress and tucked you in, lightly patting your cheek as you thanked him once more. He only chuckled and squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Anytime.”

And then you were left alone in the confines of Jack’s room.

You chuckled awkwardly at the memory, shaking your head in response. “Nope. Still on it.” Your hands brought themselves up to your thighs, rubbing your palms against your thick pants in an attempt to wipe away the tension in the room.

Trevor and Cole were aware of your feelings as well; you were sure everyone in the house knew. They only shot you sympathetic smiles, their priorities set on finishing the NHL 23 game plastered all over the screen.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“We believe in you.”

Their words, no offense, meant nothing to you. They were great people to hang around, but they weren’t the best guys to turn to when you were in a time of need, especially since you weren’t very close to them. They had their own issues that didn’t concern you, and your issues were ever so far from their minds.

After a few beats of silence, the mood of the room began to slowly eat away at you. If you were to open your mouth and bite down, you might as well have taken a chunk out of the thick tension lingering in the room. It was even more awkward knowing that Luke was much closer to them compared to you, and you knew they would let things slip eventually.

Not that he didn’t already know, though.

The four boys exchanged glances with one another, shrugging in unison before resuming their gameplay. You took it as your cue to stay, seeing as they didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and you were much more comfortable in Jack’s room than you were downstairs.

Allowing yourself to flop onto the boy’s soft mattress, you fished your phone out from the pocket of your pajama pants, finding solace in the way the friends laughed with each other. You remained like that for about twenty minutes before Jack beckoned you over to the edge of his bed, where he was sitting, to ask you for your opinion on something.

After dishing him your thoughts—which barely seemed to help him—you stayed snug at the foot of the bed, extending your legs out so that they lay atop his. It was one of your more typical positions when spending time with Jack whilst he was playing video games. Whether it be with his friends or with his brothers, you always found yourself comfortably overlapping your limbs with him, and today was no exception.

You both shuffled around a bit until you found a comfortable position. You sat with your legs resting on his thighs and your head laying on his shoulder; he sat with his forearms resting on your left leg. The others paid no mind to your odd positioning, their minds too preoccupied with the competitiveness flooding through the screen.

So you stayed like that for a while. For a long while, actually. You only lifted your head when the sound of light knocking echoed against Jack’s door once more, and soon after, you found his youngest brother cracking the door open and peeking through.

His eyes had yet to land on your figure. “Hey, Mom’s looking for—”

Before he could utter your name, he looked you dead in the eye.

“Oh.” He went silent for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. Him, of all people, should be the least surprised to see you cuddled up with Jack. “You.”

There was a certain poison in his tone that struck you right where it hurt the most. It was the way he spat through gritted teeth and looked at you with so much indifference. (It was really a façade, but you were too entranced under his gaze to realize that he could never bring himself to hate you.) The whole room seemed to shift uncomfortably with the way the tension flowed between you and Luke.

No matter how hard you tried to mask your pain and your desperation for him to notice you, you would never be able to hide how you really felt. Not with him.

“You can tell her I’ll be right down,” you murmured, slowly moving your legs from Jack’s lap, but before you could even finish your sentence, Luke disappeared as quickly as he came. When you looked back in the door frame, all you were met with was a blank wall and the faint image of where the boy stood before.

You could feel Jack lightly pat your thigh, trying his hardest to support you with the little attention he was diverting toward you. With a small sigh, you pushed yourself off the mattress and wiped your palms against the fabric of your pants, reluctantly leaving the room. Alex wished you good luck, but his fleeting words flew straight through one ear and out the other.

Downstairs, the fathers were still loud as ever, and the sizzling in the kitchen now turned into the delicious aroma of freshly cooked lunch. Quinn’s voice echoed up the staircase, and you could hear how he attempted to entertain his mom as she waited for you to come back down.

As soon as your feet hit the bottom floor, you could already sense Quinn’s eyes on you. He looked like he was being held hostage, and you could argue that he was begging you for help. He wasn’t the only Hughes boy with his gaze locked on you, but he was the only one you would give attention to.

“Oh, look! Just who you were looking for, Mom,” the eldest boy managed to divert the attention away from him and towards you. You scowled at him just before Ellen turned around, plastering on a smile as you walked towards them.

You gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “I was just up in Jack’s room. Luke said you were looking for me?”

“Oh, that’s right! Could you grab that fancy set of plates from the cabinet in your house, sweetie? It’s too high to reach for any of us parents, and you know Lukey and Quinn don’t help out with anything anymore,” Ellen spoke, evoking an argument from her oldest son. It only took one glare from her to shut him up, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his complacence.

You nodded your head with a grin, still fighting more giggles as you swerved past Quinn. He lunged at you, bringing his hands up to your waist as if he was going to tickle you, but you managed to jump just out of his reach before continuing on your journey to grab the plates Ellen wanted.

Once you made it back into your house, you dragged a chair up to the counter and climbed onto the cushioned seat, opening the cabinet and setting your gaze on the fake fine china. You only grabbed a few at a time, not wanting to break anything in fear of your mother getting mad at you. Eventually, you had gotten down to the last few plates, and once you had them in your hands, you closed the cabinet and stepped down from the chair.

Perhaps you should’ve been more aware of how high you were, because somehow, the bottom plate smashed against the countertop and shattered in your hands, causing you to let out a small scream. The porcelain had broken into small pieces, cutting into your palms, but you managed to place the reset of the plates down before beginning to worry about the amount of cuts you had on your hands.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, looking at the floor to see how many shards were scattered around the floor. Your only form of protection on the soles of your feet were the fluffy socks you were wearing, and the distance between the pieces was far enough to where you could step past them.

As soon as you deemed it safe to walk normally, you swiveled on your heel to analyze the messy situation you found yourself in. You definitely should have been more careful, and now you had to clean up all the small plate shards with cuts in your hands. Fuck, your hands were still bleeding, and it hadn’t even occurred to you that it was now dripping down your arms.

All you could do was stand in place, shock still coursing in your veins. The sink on the island was in the middle of the plate murder, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally stepping on something sharp. Before you could even begin to make your way to the half-bath near the kitchen, you heard footsteps bounding through the sunroom. The glass door slid open far too aggressively—so much so that you thought it would shatter, too—and you assumed it was Quinn coming to check on you.

The plate breaking was loud enough to be heard from the other house, especially with the connected room, but you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal for him. You were usually trustworthy enough to not accidentally hurt yourself, but this was a prime example of how you really weren’t.

You didn’t want any questions to be asked, and because it was Quinn, you knew you would get made fun of before being helped. “Don’t worry—”

“Holy shit, are you okay?” The voice that spoke up was not Quinn.

Immediately snapping your head around to look at the boy standing there, frozen, your frown contorted into a grimace. “Luke—shit—hey,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say to him. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine, I was just being stupid and—”

“What the fuck happened? You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t wash your hands and wrap them up.” His heavy footsteps inched closer and closer until he was standing right in front of you, taking your forearms into his calloused hands and inspecting how bad your injuries were. “C’mon, we gotta wash this off.”

Luke led you to the bathroom as if it was his own house, running the tap and allowing the water to get most of the red liquid off your hands before taking a clean towel and gently tapping the rest off.

He was unbearably gentle with you. You felt ashamed to think of how fast your heart was beating at such a simple gesture; as if him caring about you meant anything except the fact that growing up together meant you both cared for each other when someone was hurt. Sighing to hide your true feelings, you slowly took your hands away from his touch, “Luke, I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to do this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean? Of course I’m going to clean you up if you hurt yourself.” He immediately took your hands back into his and resumed his actions, quickly grabbing ointment from the cabinet above the toilet. Squeezing out a dollop of the cream, he soothingly rubbed it against your wounds with a focused frown adorning his features.

You took the chance to admire him candidly. He was so worried about you, and it was so cute. He wouldn’t even let you take care of yourself because he wanted to do it for you, and he was so serious about it. You had always thought his focused face was adorable, even when you were kids, but as you grew up, it only got cuter and cuter. Fuck, you were so gone for him.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring until he looked up at you and immediately looked back down at your hands. He cleared his throat awkwardly and questioned, “Does it hurt?”

“Hm?” You snapped yourself out of your trance, your face heating up with the unexpected eye contact. “Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t hurt.” The pain you were feeling came more from your heart than it did from your body. It hurt to be in such close proximity to the boy you longed so deeply for. The awkward silence floating between the two of you pained you even more.

Luke nodded and rummaged through the drawers until he found gauze, taking great care to wrap it around your hands without causing you too much discomfort. When he finished, all he did was usher you out of the bathroom with a hand on your lower back, turning off the lights without so much as a word.

Only when you entered the kitchen did a small mumble leave the boy’s lips. “Try to be more careful next time, okay? Can’t have you going around injuring yourself and shit, or you’re gonna make me—us worry too much.” He cleared his throat after his slip-up, hoping you didn’t hear what he said. You did. “Oh, and Jack told me to let you know the guys are throwing a party tonight. He said to invite you so you could buy cups and shit, but you’re kinda . . . banged up right now.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go grab stuff from the store later—”

“No!” Luke exclaimed, his eyes blowing wide once he realized how loud he protested your suggestion. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I’ll go get the stuff. You shouldn’t drive with your hands all cut up like that. They don't care who buys what.”

You blinked at him. He was acting so weird; it was almost like he cared about you. But it didn’t matter. The others were throwing a party, which meant there were going to be tons of girls all over him, and it wouldn’t be right for you to get mad if you were the one who caused the rift between you two.

With a shrug, you silently agreed to his proposal and turned to grab the remaining set of plates still sitting on the counter. You couldn’t even take two steps before Luke was already sliding ahead of you and taking the ceramic platters into his arms. “Luke, you really don’t have to do all of this. I’m fine, look,” you showed him your hands, front and back, to try and convince him to let you do something.

“No, you’re hurt. And I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I made you injure yourself more.”

Best friend.

Two very opposing emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, the term ‘best friend’ still sent a pang through your chest, knowing you would never be more to him than just a best friend. But on the other hand, it relieved you to know that he still considered you close enough to be his best friend.

God, you were such a mess. You were running away from him in fear of rejection, but then you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. What the hell was wrong with you?

Eventually, the two of you made it back into his house, the boy announcing your arrival and placing the plates down onto the dining table. He immediately found his spot back on the couch in between the fathers like before, and you instantly got hounded by both the mothers’ questions being launched at you all at once.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you grimaced. You attempted to pull your hands away from her inspecting gaze, but she brought them right back to her face. “Mom, it doesn’t even hurt anymore! Lukey already put medicine on it and wrapped them up, anyway!” You were growing impatient, and your complaints slowly turned into whines.

Thankfully, as soon as she heard Luke’s nickname leave your mouth, she dropped your hands back to your sides and grinned widely at you.

“Well, then! I’m sure you’re just fine, aren’t you?”

You sighed begrudgingly. “Yes, Mom.” You were just happy she stopped nagging you.

What you didn’t know was that she and Ellen were in pain watching their two children stay so far away from each other for such a long time. The parents always thought you two would have confessed by the time you graduated high school, but you were in college and Luke was having an amazing rookie season. It clearly didn’t work out the way they thought it would have.

You also didn’t know that Luke’s heart practically exploded out of his chest when he heard you use his nickname so nonchalantly. He always overheard you addressing him as Lukey to his brothers, but you never did it when you knew he was listening. It was almost as if saying it made your mouth run dry.

And it did.

It finally came time to eat lunch, and your stomach was threatening to growl before you all sat down at the table. Trevor, Alex, and Cole decided to eat at a restaurant instead, encouraging Jack to eat with your families rather than hanging out with them. So he stayed.

There was a specific order in which you sat. There were five members of the Hughes family and three members of your family, meaning there were eight seats total; the rectangular table fit the usual number of people perfectly. The fathers would sit on either end of the table, and the mothers would sit to their right. You and Jack sat next to your mothers, while Luke sat beside you and Quinn beside Jack.

It was a routine. It never changed. Ever.

Not when Jack kissed you on New Years. He still had to sit opposite to you at the table. Not when you and Luke had the biggest verbal fight in your life, leaving you both with scars on your knees. And especially not when you finally recognized the feelings you had for your best friend.

And as you sat in your spot, with Luke’s thigh pressed against yours, you realized that maybe loving him wasn’t all that bad.

— diorsluv 2024

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #luke hughes fanfiction #lh43

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