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angelwonie · 1 year

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X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well.

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth.

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse.

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you.

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying.

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you.

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours?

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably.

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead.

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless.

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair.

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying.

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.”

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment.

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone.

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him.

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side.

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep.

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.)

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?”

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat.

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they?

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows.

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though.

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.”

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now.

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over.

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face.

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices.

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow.

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good.

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.”

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams.

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree.

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you.

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think.

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement.

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die.

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too.

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?”

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.”

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave?

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly.

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair.

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today.

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something.

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike.

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming.

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that.

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t.

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first.

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed.

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain.

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment.

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it.

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book.

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand.

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know.

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables.

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter.

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation.

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity.

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked.

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself.

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too.

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him.

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight.

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit.

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.”

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day?

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him.

Finally, he smiles at you.

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it.

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest.

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left.

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement.

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too.

In some ways, it stayed normal.

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you.

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you.

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened.

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow.

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back.

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.”

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze.

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly?

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often.

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now.

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?”

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable.

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly.

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too.

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath.

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart.

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was.

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss.

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches.

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love.

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you.

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students.

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him.

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing.

“Sure about what, Woo?”

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back.

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension.

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain.

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content.

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan.

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed.

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile.

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk.

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes.

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor.

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach.

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance.

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest.

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?”

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder.

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy.

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock.

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt.

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing.

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit.

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit.

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming.

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven.

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out.

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true.

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now.

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free.

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t.

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class.

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader

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onelittlespiral · 5 months

Note

How about a jock twinning tf?👀

Looking alike, talking alike, then thinking alike

FML: Match

He never really stood a chance. The moment he walked into our new apartment together his days were numbered. No guy, and I mean no guy, can resist me for long. How could they, when it just feels so good to be me. He tried though. That first week he was a real prick. He would complain about my stuff everywhere, scoff at my friends, and try to cover up my scent. But 24/7 with me around starts to have an effect. I caught him picking up my stuff and stealing a quick sniff before throwing it in my room. The candles sat abandoned in his room. A pair of my boxers went missing. I finally caught him on week three. He was sitting, zoned out in the living room. It’s always so cute the first time they try to embrace it. Sprawled out on the floor, my boxers loose around his legs, hat backwards on his head. He already had a little beard going.

He didn’t even bother getting up when I came in. He was lost in the scent of me, and his body was trying everything to become what it was not.

“Get up!” His body came to as he snapped to attention. He tried making excuses, his face was a mix of confusion and horror at what he was wearing.

“I am so sorry, I have no idea… what’s happening? What are you doing to me?!?”

“I’m just living it up bro, you’re the one sitting in my underwear. You trying to be all of this?” I flexed my biceps in front of him, watching his body begin to pulsate. “Just flex bro. Let it out, let me out.” His arms curled and posed, copying my form. His forearms exploded with muscle, as he began to shout:

“No, please, let me go.”

“You can leave at any time, you just have to want to.” I struck another pose, popping my pecs and flexing my abs. He moved in unison with me, his stomach sucking in as abs pushed out. Pecs punched out of his chest with force as his torso stretched to copy mine.

“Please… I don’t want this. Why- how are you doing this?”

“It’s easy little bro,” I sat into a deep squat. His eyes rolled back in his head as his lower body erupted. Muscle tore through him, filling out calfs, thighs, and ass all at once. “I’m what every guys wants, what everyone craves to be. My scent, my hormones, my whole aura has been filling you for weeks. I’ve been inside. You’ve just got to let me out. Now,” I stood back up, his body parodying along like a puppet. His body was ready, even when his mind was not, “FLEX.” I hit a double-bicep pose.

“Ah…AuGH-AHHHGAUH!”

I was let loose from inside him.

It was like looking in a mirror. Fuck, I’m a stud. He was spacing out:

“Bro… no, fuck. Why, why do I sound like that?”

“You’re getting the full package little bro. You are going to look, sound, smell, think, and fuck just like me. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He shuddered in response. Immediately his cock began swelling, snaking down his leg. His mind was saying no but his body was saying yes. By now his balls were pumping him full of my hormones, invading his mind and filling him with my horny thoughts. Hands gripped his cock as he began jerking off in front of me, speeding up his transformation. Drool dripped from his open mouth and rolled down his chest.

“No, please. Why-why does it… feel…so…goooood? Hu-ungh-uhhhHHHh…”

He was riding the waves of pleasure as they engulfed his brain. He never stood a chance against me, but it was still so hot to watch him submit to his fate. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, and slowly I watched the lights go out upstairs. He was just like me now. No, better. He was me now. It was time. I walked up and pulled his hands from his cock, and replaced them with mine. I furiously began jacking him off as his brain short circuited and he just writhed in pleasure.

“Ha-hahu-ugh-huhuhuhuuuu-uHH-“

I leaned in, and planted one kiss on his sweaty brow and commanded:

“Now CUM.”

Instantly he let loose, hitting the back wall. It covered my hands, just adding to the lubrication as I finished him off. Rope after rope flew across the room, until he was shooting blanks still thrusting against my hands. He slowly slumped to the floor

“How you feeling bro?” I asked him

“Huuuuuuh…fuck bro I’m spent. You’re a god. How do you manage to get that much out of me every time?”

I chucked a bit. “I know all the right buttons to push bro. I just do what I would do to me.”

“God, I’m not gonna be horny for a week”

“Pfft, knowing you? I give it an hour.”

“God we’re so hot bro…”

The comment caught me a bit off guard. Did he… no. There wasn’t any part of him left that would know what just happened to him. I leaned in and gave my new doppelgänger a kiss:

“Yeah we are, bruh.”

#transformation #hypnosis #bro #male transformation #jockification #reality change #twin tf #Ask #straight to gay #jock tf #dumber #mental change #fml

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lovebugism · 9 months

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Heat wave with Eddie and he's watching you on the other side of the couch and he wants you so bad but it's so hotttt

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where you and eddie try to make the most of the heatwave (established relationship, implications of smut, 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Metal heads hate summer. It’s an unspoken fact. Wild hair, leather jackets, and denim jeans don’t fare well in the heat.

And while there were many bonuses to the warmer season — the music, the ice cream, and you in a bikini to name a few — it didn’t quell Eddie’s personal vendetta with summer. Or rather, summer’s personal vendetta with him.

The month of August was hardly more than an incessant heatwave. One hundred-degree heat, statewide. Without a cool breeze to fill the seasonal silence, there was nothing but a low sizzling sound — like burgers cooking on a grill. The two of you got into his van for a Slurpee run one simmering afternoon and suffered second-degree burns from the pleather cushions and metal seatbelts in the process.

It was miserable. Eddie was far too pale and he liked the color black far too much to find any enjoyment in the summer months. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the power goes out.

And the only thing worse than a power outage during a heatwave is being horny during a power outage during a heatwave.

“The neighbor said there’s outages all over town—” Your voice comes muffled from where you pad around in the kitchen. “—So, we’ll probably be out for a while.”

You return to the living room wearing an old, white-ribbed tank top and a pair of Eddie’s plaid boxers, rolled at the hem to fit you better. You carry two glasses of lemonade in your hands, fogged with the cubes of ice you’d dropped into them before they could melt in the freezer.

You’re too pretty for your own good. Eddie’s suffocated by the sweltering heat as much as he is by the overwhelming urge to touch you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans in response, sprawled out on the couch across the room. He’s barely moved from that spot all day. He only got up once to tie his hair back and then anxiously pace back and forth for several minutes. A few ornery curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat. “Should we just, like, get a hotel or something?”

“With what money?” you scoff in place of a laugh.

His scrunched brows go lax. “Oh, yeah…”

“We’ll be okay. It’ll only be out for a couple more hours— at least.”

“Hours?” Eddie whines, all pinched-browed, as you hand him his lemonade.

You scrunch your nose down at the boy with a sympathetic gaze. “Think we can survive that long?”

“I’m withering away as we speak,” he deadpans.

“You’re so dramatic…” you giggle. The unkind words come out coated in a layer of sweet honey. You love him too much for anything else.

You pluck your book from the coffee table and plop down on the other side of the couch. You curl your knees to your chest, not having much room left over from Eddie’s longer legs.

He’d tried to do the same an hour or more ago. He’d been too bored to read then. All the words melted together because his brain was swimming with heat. He doesn’t know how you’re doing it, honestly. All he knows is he can’t stop looking at you.

You’re a pretty little thing sitting across from him. So much of your skin is on display — arms, collarbones, ankles, and thighs. He wants to kiss every inch of you. He could if it wasn’t so damn hot. Now, all he can do is admire you from a distance and pray the power comes back soon so he can love you all over.

Eddie shifts on the couch for a few moments. He jostles the cushions beneath you as he twists on them, maneuvering so his legs are propped up on the coffee table and he’s slouching against the back of the sofa.

His underwear rides up his pale thigh. The white undershirt he refuses to take off is damp at the collar with sweat.

You pay little attention to his fidgeting. He’s often restless, but especially when he’s got nothing to do. You feel his sticky fingers curl around your stickier calf a second later. His touch is soft and slow, sweet like syrup, as he smooths his hand up and down the back of your leg.

You shoot the boy a look from over the top of your book. “You okay, Eds?”

“Other than melting?” he retorts with his head tilted to his shoulder. He shoots you a wide, fatigued grin through his reddened cheeks. “I’m peachy, sweetheart.”

“It’s a little too hot to be touching each other right now, babe,” you advise with your gaze turned back to the book in your lap. He keeps on caressing you, though, and you keep on letting him.

“I know…” he murmurs with a faint pout scrunching his features. His palm squeezes the top of your ankle before rising again. “I just miss you…”

“I’m right here,” you counter with a soft giggle.

“You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you concede with a sigh. “I know what you mean.”

If you had it your way, Eddie Munson would be touching you all the time. He usually is, anyway — but every second he’s not, it feels like you’re grieving. You’re made restless because of how underwhelmed you are, all grumpy because you’re so sticky with heat. You want so desperately to curl up in Eddie’s arms and hide there forever, but it’s already getting hard to breathe without the AC on. And the sweat’s making your clothes cling to your skin. The thought of physical affection right now makes you feel a bit sick.

He squeezes your calf again, this time to get your attention.

Your eyes peek at him from over your book. You find his flushed face curled into a tired, yet still mischievous smirk.

“And, you know, just for the record or whatever,” he lilts quietly with a twinkle in his chocolate syrup eyes. “If it wasn’t a billion degrees in here, I’d totally plow the shit outta you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go wide at his words.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so immediately turned on.

You squeeze your knees together, clenching your thighs in hopes of soothing the ache that begins to pulsate between them. “Wow. That is… very forward of you, Eds.”

“I think the heat’s making me delirious,” he admits with his head tilted back against the couch. His pale, sticky neck is on display for you. You feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into the milky white tendon there.

“Well, good thing about power outages in the summer — the cold water in the shower feels like heaven,” you tell him, feigning absentmindedness as you flip a page of your novel.

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his damp, curly bangs. He grins with a newfound light in his eyes. “Ooh,” he singsongs. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“I have… three more pages left in this chapter,” you tell the boy after flicking through the book. You shoot him a glance beneath your lashes — less obvious in your mischievous disposition but still sparkling with it anyway. You knock his thigh with your foot. “Go get undressed, loverboy.”

Your words bring him back to life.

He surges with an energy he lost sometime between the late spring and early summer as he leaps off the couch. He nearly trips over the coffee table on his journey to the bathroom. His hurried footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the hallway.

You hear the shower faucet hiss on from a distance. It’s music to your ears. You know you’ll be in there all day — or, at least, until the power comes back on. You’re left suddenly hoping it won’t come on for another good while yet.

Not until Eddie makes you forget your name against the shower wall.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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angelshimaa · 5 months

Text

━━ [ 𝟒:𝟐𝟗 ] ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

✧ cw :: fem!reader (bkg calls reader 'my girl' once), fluff, bkg calls you ‘babe’ once, hinted at that denki has a crush on you, you just wanna braid his hair

✧ a/n :: finally some fluff 🤭 i actually really liked writing this one !!

“your hair is actually a curse.”

your words come out a little above a whisper, absent-minded as you play with his hair, his head resting in your lap. granted, the blond hair is softer than it looks, but its uneven spikes barely allowed for any diversity in hairstyles.

“like, what do you mean i can't braid it?” this isn't the first time this exasperated complaint is voiced and you hear bakugou snort, the corners of his lips tilting upwards in a half-grin.

“thank god, i’d look like shit with braids.” you try to envision them on him, but the fact that his face is upside down doesn’t help at all. what you do see is the light from the warm day peaking through the thin curtains to kiss his face, and you're reminded of how unnecessarily pretty your boyfriend is.

“who said you don't already look like shit?” you can't help it, and when he looks up at you, eyebrows raised as if you both know better, you grin and raise yours back— as if to suggest that maybe he doesn't.

“don’t think you'd be here if i did, babe.” his grin looks boyish and you can't understand why he prefers contorting his features into a grimace.

it's your turn to snort, fingers sectioning some of his choppy bangs off to as to fiddle around with them specifically. “maybe i’m into guys who look like shit, katsuki. ever think about that?”

“if you were, you would be in dunceface’s room right now, not mine.” it's too quick of a response to not have been thought of before, and you flick the top of his forehead. he's done it to you many times before, and you understand why— it was a little fun.

“kaminari is actually really nice, katsu, leave him be.”

bakugou rolls his eyes— of course you'd think he's nice. “he’s even better when he's not hitting on my girl— he should try that sometime.” you chuckle at his grumbling, eyebrows knitted together to frame his eyes. he's cute when he's harmlessly jealous.

“even if he was— i fear my heart is already taken.” you fake a look of sorrow. “a shame, really.”

katsuki's eyes gleam in daylight as he scoffs. “‘a shame’ my ass— you're so in love with me it makes you look stupid.”

he's right, the both of you know he is. neither of you would have it any other way.

“you say that as if you don't kiss the ground i walk on, katsu.” your smile is softer and it sends a pang to his heart.

“and you deserve every kiss.” it's a cheesy line, one a past him would likely cringe at, but he finds no shame in making his devotion to you well known.

you dip your head down to give him a peck on the lips, grinning. the heart eyes he gives you when you're that close has the butterflies resting in your stomach kick up. “that’s what i thought, katsuki. now... have you ever thought about straightening your hair?”

you laugh at the horror that crosses over his face, scowl settling in his face as if to tell you to not even think about it— it doesn't matter how badly you want to braid it.

katsuki's whipped. he knows from the way he thinks you laugh like a summer afternoon, warm and excited, but even he had his limits.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (fill in this form to join!) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @pasteldaze @afairywithacrown @moonshuul @https-spacekay @k0z3me

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gggukniverse · 6 months

Text

self fulfillment needs | myg

title: self fulfillment needs

pairing: yoongi x reader (+ implied jungkook x reader)

series: basic needs !!!

genre: m, smut, roommates au

summary: two weeks after the kitchen incident where you had sex with your roommate while your other roommate watched you, things seem the same as always but also not the same at all. you try to approach the subject to only cause a fight and another sexual encounter.

warnings: dom!yoongi, sub!reader, yoongi is bi, jungkook is confused my baby :(, sexual tension, dirty talk, she actually tries to dom yoongi at first but... haha, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), a lil edging, hair pulling, teasing, yoongi himself is a warning, choking, face slapping, praising, degradation, he calls reader a slut, begging, spanking, p*ssy slapping, yoongi has a... piercing 🥴, they talk abt jk during sex, mentions of yoongi x jungkook, yoongi is so sweet after sex i'm sad :(

wordcount: 8.8k

note: hi !!! i'm back !! first of all, this is the second part to basic needs so please read that first because you're probably not gonna understand half of this chapter. omg guys this chapter is insane i cant even look at myself in the mirror after writing all of that. i'm still not convinced if it turned out okay, it could've been a lot better, but i hope you enjoy it !!!

it’s been two weeks since the kitchen incident. and things have been weird.

it’s kind of a tricky situation because yoongi and jungkook act just the same as always towards you, like that night never happened in the first place. you find it troubling at first but you soon realize you wouldn’t even know how to approach them about what you did in that kitchen so you just let things flow. the problem is how they act around each other.

you wouldn’t consider yourself being extremely close to them, but with over two years of living together you’ve obviously come to know their dynamic. and you know they’re friends, you’re pretty sure they have different friend groups but you know they are friends and they get along way better than you do with any of them. that’s why you quickly catch on the weird vibe there seems to be between them now.

you’re used to waking up in the morning and finding them having breakfast in the kitchen together while talking about things you don’t really understand, but these days you walk into the kitchen first thing in the morning and don’t find any of them there. and it’s not just about breakfast, it’s about the weird tension between them when you see them bumping in the corridor, the excuses they make up not to be in the living room with you at the same time and the moments you see yoongi trying to make up conversation and jungkook just hums or gives a cold answer before leaving the room.

the worst thing is that your brain tells you it must be your fault. because it must be, right? before the kitchen incident everything was just fine but now that can barely stay in the same room for more than 2 minutes together.

and you don’t mean to snap at them but you can’t stop yourself from doing it one specific morning.

“what the hell is wrong with you two?”

the initial response you get is jungkook choking on his cereal and yoongi turning away from the coffee machine to look at you with such a surprised expression you guess he didn’t expect you to say that.

“what?” jungkook is the first one to talk as he wipes at his chin with a napkin.

“no, don’t try to act dumb now,” you tell him and hear yoongi snort. “you’ve been acting weird as fuck for the past two weeks and i’m so tired of it.”

“i’m not acting weird.” yoongi mumbles as he goes back to the coffee machine.

“i’m not acting weird either-”

“yes you are.” yoongi cuts jungkook off right away.

“hyung, c’mon...”

“you can’t even look at me since that night.” yoongi says but doesn’t raise his voice, he’s not trying to fight.

“i can look at you just fine.” jungkook replies and yoongi just scoffs.

“okay, jungkook.” yoongi hums completely unbothered.

“you’re communicating like 12 year olds,” you say when you’ve had enough and they both look at you again. “if something happened that night to cause all of this you should at least talk about it instead of avoiding each other.”

“nothing happened that night.” jungkook mutters as he finishes his breakfast.

“it sure looks like something happened.” you cross your arms and lean against the door frame.

“jungkookie is too ashamed of what he did that night.” yoongi says and pours the finished coffee in his mug.

you feel a pang in your chest so you look at jungkook with a cocked eyebrow for an explanation.

he is ashamed of that night?

“no!” jungkook looks panicked. “i don’t- i... it’s not like that.” he keeps stuttering and you don’t know what to say. maybe you should’ve considered the chance of them regretting it.

“she doesn’t need any type of reassurance, jungkook,” yoongi speaks again. “we both know she’s not the one you’re having trouble with.”

“hyung.” jungkook says like he’s warning him about something you don’t really understand.

“jungkook.” yoongi replies with the same tone but he currently looks much more calm than jungkook.

“can any of you explain what is happening?” you say in confusion and jungkook just looks down at his almost empty bowl while yoongi turns around to face you with a hand gripping the counter behind him and grabbing his coffee mug with the other.

“jungkook’s never messed around with another boy and now he’s acting like he’s committed a crime.” yoongi explains and you turn to jungkook when you hear him sigh.

“i’m not gay.” he mutters, still not looking up from his cereal.

“i’m not gay either,” yoongi replies like jungkook has said the most stupid thing he’s ever heard. “do you know what being bi means?”

“i’m not bi either.” jungkook replies.

yoongi snorts. “okay.”

“hyung.”

“i just swallowed your cum, you’re acting like i fucked you in the ass.” yoongi snaps and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to hide the gasp that threatens to slip out.

“you touched me too.” jungkook mumbles.

“and now you’re gonna say that you hated it, right?” yoongi scoffs and jungkook gets quiet. “jungkook, you almost came in my hand.”

“shut the fuck up!” jungkook snaps, finally looking up at yoongi with what you think is supposed to be an angry expression but in your opinion he just looks cute. and you guess yoongi might think the same.

“or what?” yoongi replies with a cocked eyebrow. jungkook doesn’t respond, just grabs his now empty bowl and walks to the sink, leaving it there before walking out of the kitchen.

and thank god because you were gonna drown in the fucking sexual tension if they stayed together in the same room for 5 more seconds.

“sheesh...” you whisper and walk to the counter to grab an apple.

“i don’t even know why you tried to do anything.” yoongi mumbles against his coffee mug before giving it a sip.

“you know it’s not his fault to be a little confused, right?” you tell him and sit on the chair jungkook was just sitting at. “you were kind of an asshole right now.” you admit and he sighs, putting his blue mug down on the counter.

“i’m not mad because he’s confused, he has all of the right to go through that, all of us do.” yoongi clarifies and you hum before giving your apple a bite. “what bothers me is that he can’t even look at me since that night.” he says, his voice quieter this time.

“yeah... i know.” you nod because you’ve obviously noticed.

yoongi sighs. “did i ruin everything with him?” you hate how worried he looks. of course yoongi cares about him. after all, jungkook is his friend and you can’t imagine how tough it must be for him to feel like he’s losing his friend.

“you didn’t, yoongi.” you answer his question because you really mean it. “i just think he needs some time to think.”

“thinking is what made him start acting like this, he looked perfectly fine that night.” yoongi tells you. “what he has to do is talk about it, but he won’t because he’s stubborn as shit.”

“yoongi.”

“he’s my friend, i can insult him.” he says and you can’t help but chuckle. “but seriously, he should talk about all of what he’s been bottling up. he’s probably been thinking about that night for all of these past days.”

“he’s not the only one,” you blurt out without even thinking and you can feel your cheeks heat up as soon as you look at yoongi and see a smirk growing on his face. “leave me alone.” you tell him before he can tease you about it.

“i didn’t say anything,” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but i’ve been thinking about it too so don’t look so embarrassed.” he mumbles like it’s nothing as he puts his mug in the sink.

“you have?” you ask quietly. you don’t really know why but you thought he would’ve already moved on from it, that’s why this is surprising.

“y/n, c’mon.” he chuckles like your question is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, like the answer is obvious.

you’re about to reply, not really know what exactly, but jungkook is on the door again. he’s changed from his pajamas into some black sweatpants and a big hoodie, the hood over his head to probably cover his messy hair.

“where are you going?” you ask him. a stupid question really. at this point of quarantine people can only really leave for specific jobs or to do the groceries, and since the three of you work from home you can only suppose he’s going to do the groceries.

you turn out to be right when he walks into the kitchen and picks the little piece of paper with the list of groceries before putting it in the pocket of his hoodie. “the groceries,” he replies either way and looks at you. “do you need anything else?” he asks and you notice the way he completely ignores if yoongi wants anything too but decide not to say anything.

“not really,” you shake your had and he hums. “thanks, kook.”

jungkook nods in response and leaves the kitchen without saying another word, not even sparing yoongi a glance. just a couple of seconds later you can hear the front door opening and closing.

“he’s so...” yoongi sighs as you give your apple the last bite.

“so what?” you stand up to walk to the trash can and throw the apple. he doesn’t answer. “you wanna fuck him so bad.” you tease him.

“maybe.” he hums and you look at him, he’s just mindlessly scrolling down his phone.

you sigh and hop on the counter, swinging your legs as you think of ways to comfront him about that night. but your mouth ends up being faster than your brain.

“what did you mean?” you ask and see him putting his phone down to pay attention to you.

“what?” it just hits you now how intimidating his gaze is so you look down at your lap before speaking again.

“have you really been thinking about that night?” your voice is a little more quiet now.

“of course.” he replies like it’s the easiest question he’s ever gotten.

“okay, but like... in a good or bad way?”

when you don’t get an answer you look up at yoongi and find him pursing his lips in deep thought, like he’s calculating the words to say.

“so we’re finally talking about this.” he says.

“you don’t want to?”

“i thought you didn’t,” yoongi replies. “you didn’t address it the next morning and both you and jungkook kind of looked mortified so i didn’t pressure you into talking, i thought you wanted to forget about it.”

“i mean,” you start, trying to find the words to explain. “i kinda wanted to forget,” yoongi hums for you to keep talking. “because i felt so... weird? no, not weird. i felt-”

“uncomfortable?”

“no.”

“regretful?”

“no,” you shake your head again. “ugh, i don’t know how to explain it. i just couldn’t believe i did that, i felt a little... dirty.” you admit and god, it is so embarrassing.

“you are,” yoongi replies with a little smirk that makes you want to jump on him. jesus christ, you’re so fucked. “no, but seriously- i understand,” he says, smirk completely gone. “you could’ve talked to me though.”

“i didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it,” you explain with the annoying feeling that your cheeks are heating up again. “and since you didn’t talk about it either i thought you regretted it or something...” you mumble and yoongi’s jaw almost drops to the floor.

“what are you talking about?” he frowns, seemingly offended by what you said.

“you don’t regret it?” you ask shyly.

“the only thing i regret is not fucking you too.”

holy shit.

you could have a gun pressed to the back of your head right now and still wouldn’t admit the way your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire just from one stupid sentence.

“you- you can’t say stuff like that.” you mutter and have the decency to look at him even if you’re red as a tomato because you know he’s gonna know either way. because yoongi is a menace.

“why not?” he cocks an eyebrow. and fuck, he’s so hot you don’t understand how the hell you didn’t realize until now.

“because.” you reply because you don’t know what to say.

“no way you’re getting shy now...” yoongi chuckles as he walks to you.

“leave me alone.” you whine in protest and reach to him with your hand to softly slap his face. you do it in a playful way, your hand barely brushing against his cheek, but yoongi’s smirk completely disappears and something in your stomach twists in fear.

“do that again.” his voice is so fucking low all of the sudden, like he’s challenging you, and you don’t know if you’re scared or turned on.

“i- i’m sorry, did i hurt you?” of course the most stupid question you could’ve asked in a moment like this is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

yoongi only shakes his head. “i said do that again,” he repeats and takes the final step towards you to stand right in front of you. “harder.”

you gulp. your whole body feels too hot, your clothes are starting to feel uncomfortable. yoongi is too close and you’re sure he’s devouring you with his eyes.

“yoongi.” you try to say something but you don’t know what you can really say.

you’ve never hit anyone. well, maybe one time a couple of years ago when a guy didn’t stop bothering you at a club when you just wanted to dance with your friends. you’ve never hit anyone this way.

does yoongi like this? is he really one of those people?

“i don’t wanna hurt you.” you mumble and feel stupid right after.

“i like it when it hurts,” yoongi replies and you have to bite your lip not to moan. “i’m asking you to do it, so just-”

the sound of the slap echoes in the quiet kitchen and you stare at yoongi with panic growing in your chest and a weird itch on the palm of your hand, the one you haven’t even put down yet from how shocked you are that you just slapped yoongi. his head is turned to the side from the slap and you can see the little reddened skin on his cheek before he turns back to you.

“i’m so sorr-”

you never get to properly apologize because the words die down your throat the second yoongi’s lips collide against yours. you immediately kiss him back and hum against his mouth when he wraps his arms around your body, moving closer to stand between your legs and pulling you as close as he can to his body. your arms are soon wrapping around his neck too and you completely lose yourself in the kiss.

he kisses you like he’s missed you. like he’s been wanting, needing to kiss you again for these past two weeks. and you’re no better, you kiss him back with the same hunger and desperation because you now realize just how bad you needed him.

“fuck,” he mumbles between kisses and you hum in response, not daring to pull away when it feels so good. “can’t stop thinking about you.”

“yoongi...” you whine while one of yoongi’s hands goes up and down your thigh softly, too softly compared to the way he’s kissing you.

“wanted you so fucking bad.” yoongi sighs and starts kissing down your jaw towards your neck.

“fuck,” a little breathy chuckle slips out of your mouth when you realize something. “this fucking counter again.”

yoongi chuckles against your neck and brings his other hand to your other thigh, making you wrap your legs around you before picking you up from the counter.

“what-” you mumble but yoongi gives you just a short kiss to shut you up for a moment as he starts walking out of the kitchen.

“do you wanna get caught again?” he teases and your cheeks burn. you hide your face on the crook of his neck in embarrassment. “i want you to myself today, if that’s okay.” yoongi says and fuck, why does everything he say makes you feel like you’re melting? you’re sure he wasn’t like this before the kitchen incident.

“yeah, that’s okay.” you leave a kiss on his neck that has him letting out a shaky breath as he keeps walking down the corridor.

“good.” he hums and you keep kissing his neck, sucking a little mark on a spot that’s clearly sensitive because as soon as you start sucking on it yoongi’s grip on your thighs tightens significantly.

you’re brought back to reality and forced to stop kissing on his neck when yoongi is suddenly placing you down on a bed, his bed. the covers are extremely soft, that’s the first thing you notice, and the mattress seems super comfortable. in that moment you can understand why yoongi stays in bed until late somedays, his bed is so fucking nice.

“there you go,” yoongi says as he hovers over you and positions himself on his knees between your legs, one of his elbows on the mattress right next to your head to support his body. “pretty.” he smiles before kissing you again.

“you should’ve...” you start between kisses, your hands going up to his long hair while his free hand goes down to your waist. “should’ve talked to me before.”

“could tell you the same.” he replies and stops kissing your lips to go a little lower, kissing your neck again.

“wait.” you squirm under him and try to push him away.

yoongi quickly pulls away, looking down at you with worried eyes. “everything okay?” he asks.

“yeah,” you nod. “just wanna be on top.” you try to push him again and he chuckles.

“okay,” yoongi hums and he suddenly grabs you by your thighs and turns the both of you around so that you’re on top. “good?” he asks, staying sat up with you on his lap.

“yeah.” you smile as you place your hands on his shoulders.

“are you trying to get all dominant on me now?” he teases while his hands find their way under your shirt.

you don’t know what gives you the courage for it but you smirk back. “and what if i was?”

yoongi snorts.

“what?” you frown, clearly offended by his response.

“nothing...” he says but you can see how he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“just so you know, i’m a good dom.”

and it’s not a lie. you’ve been dominant in bed quite many times before, it’s not like it’s your preference but you definitely have. you’re confident even if something inside of you tells you there’s no way you’re gonna be able to dom him, your pride is bigger than that right now because his stupid smirk is making you want to shut him up.

“mh... i’m sure you are.” yoongi speaks with that stupid smirk.

“yoongi.” you whine in protest and feel stupid right after because his smirk only grows bigger.

“you’re such a cute little dom.” he brings his hand to your face and drags his thumb across your lower lip, making you realize you’re pouting.

“you’re pissing me off,” you shake him up a little with your hands on his shoulders. “i can dom you.”

“i had you blabbering like a little bitch the other day and i hadn’t even touched you yet.” yoongi says and gives your waist a light squeeze that makes you flinch.

“it was jungkook,” you say, just because he’s actually getting to you and you need a distraction. “he was the one fucking me.” you clarify and he cocks an eyebrow.

“you think jungkook was the dominant one that night?” he asks. “he completely shut down when i got there.”

you gulp when you remember how jungkook’s dominant demeanor completely disappeared as soon as yoongi walked in the kitchen that night, how he clearly obeyed to everything yoongi told him. and it is so fucking hot. by this point your panties must be ruined, you can’t help but squirm uncomfortably on top of him.

yoongi seems to notice your problem because he looks down at where your bodies are together and moves his hands down to your hips, pulling you closer to him so that you’re sat exactly on top of his crotch. a sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it when you feel how hard he is under you.

“i bet i can make you cry before you can even begin to try dominating me.” he hums and nuzzles into your neck, making you squirm just with the feeling of his nose on your skin.

“you just caught me in a bad time that night,” you mumble. and you’re kinda right, you were so desperate that night, you’re sure you could’ve done a lot better if your desperation hadn’t been clouding your mind. “don’t be so confident.”

“i went so fucking easy on you both that night,” yoongi says against your skin like it’s a warning. “actually, i didn’t do anything and you two were doing everything i said like you were under a spell.”

“i...” your mind goes blank when he runs his tongue down your neck.

“you should’ve seen your face,” yoongi continues, leaving little kisses down the wet stripe on your neck. “you were fucked out, you looked dumb.” he chuckles a little and you should feel offended but you only moan in response when he bites on your neck, not enough to hurt but enough to get a reaction from you.

“yoongi-”

“it’s okay baby,” he hums, his breath hitting the sensitive skin of your neck and making goosebumps erupt all over your body. “i would love nothing more than to fuck you dumb.”

“that’s-” you surpress the moan that’s threatening to come out of your mouth when yoongi places his hands on your hips and pulls you closer to him just to grind against his clothed crotch. “that’s not the way you talk about a lady.” you manage to say even though your voice breaks halfway through. yoongi has obviously noticed because a dark chuckle hits your neck again.

“oh, i know,” he says. you can definitely feel how your panties are sticking to your pussy now. “but you’re not a lady, you’re just a slut.”

a loud moan slips out of your mouth when he makes you grind your hips again and the friction between you feels just right. “yoongi...” you hold on tight to his shoulders as his lips make their way up to whisper in your ear.

“right?”

“yoongi, i-” by this time your hips are moving on their own, chasing that delicious friction agaist his crotch.

“aren’t you my pretty slut?” the gentle bite to your earlobe does it for you.

you don’t remember the last time you needed someone this bad. well, maybe jungkook a couple of weeks ago, but somehow this feels different. your body is screaming for him, something inside you has been begging you to let go of that pride and just give into him since you kissed.

“please.” you say and feel stupid right after because you’ve already given up and because you don’t know what you’re asking for.

“oh, how i love to hear you say that word.” yoongi smiles wide at you and you can’t help but continue grinding your hips against him.

“fuck, yoongi i-”

“mh, i know.” he gives you a sympathetic nod and looks down at how you’re working your hips. “look at you,” he says and gently slaps your hip. “already begging for it like the slut you are.”

you try to speak but the only sound coming out of your mouth is another pathetic whimper as you keep chasing that friction.

“should i just let you do this until you cum?” yoongi asks, you instantly shake your head.

“no,” you slide your hands down his arms until you’re wrapping them around his wrists. “touch me.”

“i’m touching you.” he fakes a confused expression as he squeezes your hips just a little. you just know he’s having so much fun with this.

“yoongi, you know what i mean,” you grind against him one last time before he lets out a chuckle. “what?” and you almost can’t even recognize your voice anymore from how desperate and whiny you sound, but you know he likes it.

“i find it funny how you were trying to go all dominant and shit just a minute ago and now you’re begging like a slut.”

you don’t say anything in response, you only bite your lip to hold back a sound because you’ve never really enjoyed being talked to like this in bed but now you might be discovering something new about yourself because yoongi makes it so hot.

he smirks at your lack of response and turns the both of you again, making you lay down on your back with him between your legs. and you enjoyed being on top of him for a moment but you can’t lie and say you don’t like this position as well.

“i would love to take my time with you, but i wanna see that pretty pussy again,” yoongi says, completely unaware of how you blush at his words because he’s focused on pulling your sweatpants down your thighs. “maybe i’ll make it longer next time, but i’ve been waiting for two weeks.”

next time. the knowledge that he’s already thinking about a next time makes you a little giddy but you don’t make a comment about it.

you kick your sweatpants off when yoongi pulls them past your ankles and let then fall on the floor.

yoongi makes a disapproving soud when you bend your legs and close them, hiding from him. “c’mon, be good and open those pretty legs for me.” he puts a hand on one of your ankles, trying to make you stretch your legs.

you give in so easily, spreading your legs enough for him to get between them again. his hands go to your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly and leaving goosebumps behind.

but he’s not looking at you yet. well, he is looking at you, he’s looking at you with a pretty smirk but he’s not looking where you want him to look. that alone makes you buck your hips up in an attempt to make him look down. the gesture makes yoongi break in a chuckle but he still doesn’t give you what you want, leaning down and supporting his weight on his elbow next to your head. then he gives you a kiss that leaves you speechless instead.

“what?” you mumble in confusion.

“you’re so cute when you’re horny.” yoongi gives you a smile that successfully distracts you from his hand going up your thigh.

you open your mouth to reply but the only thing that comes out is a loud moan when you suddenly feel yoongi’s hand cupping your pussy over your panties.

“have you been this wet all this time?” yoongi says and your brain can’t even come up with an answer because his fingers start running up and down your clothed folds.

you’re so wet that the feeling of the soaked fabric of your panties against your pussy makes you blush in embarrassment, but it feels so good to finally be touched that you can’t help the sounds coming out of your mouth.

“what a dirty girl,” yoongi hums as your hips buck a little to meet the movements of his hand. “so wet just because of some kissing and some grinding?” he teases you with a chuckle.

“please, take my panties off.” you beg. you need his fingers on you.

“only because you said please.”

he partially listens to you because he doesn’t really take them off but instead pushes them to the side, which you find ten times hotter.

a loud moan slips out of your mouth when his fingers finally touch you with nothing in between. your hand twitches with the urge to cover your mouth but you know yoongi won’t like that so you settle with gripping at the sheets of his bed instead.

“haven’t stopped thinking about this pussy,” yoongi mumbles and gives it a little slap that makes you squeak in surprise. “cute.” he grins and kisses you once again.

you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him to make sure he doesn’t pull away. he swallows all of your moans when he easily slips one of his fingers inside you and starts fucking you with it before quickly adding another one, you’re so wet that his fingers slide in so well.

“mhh… that’s a good pussy.” yoongi hums between kisses and you clench around his fingers.

his fingers feel so good, you can’t wait for his cock.

you moan his name, making him smile against your mouth. “does that feel good?”

“yeah.” you whine and he curls his fingers inside you, easily finding that spot. “fuck, right there…”

it feels so good that you almost forgot you don’t live alone. almost. you remember because you’re suddenly being surprised by the sound of the apartment door opening and closing.

jungkook is back home.

“yoongi,” you mumble against his lips like a warning but he only hums and starts fingering you faster. “fuck... yoon- yoongi, stop.”

“do you really want me to stop?” yoongi breaks away from the kiss with the hottest smirk on his face.

you don’t know what to answer. well, you know you don’t want him to stop, but jungkook is home now and you are loud enough for him to hear.

“yoon...” you try but nothing else comes out when he slips a third finger.

“that’s right,” he smiles and leaves a sweet kiss on your jaw as he keeps finger fucking you at a pace that’s driving you crazy. “say my name.”

you do. you say his name and he slips his fingers out just to give your pussy another spank that makes your whole body twitch under him.

“louder.” yoongi says as he rubs his fingers over your folds to ease the pain from the spank.

you say his name louder, but just a little because you know jungkook must be placing the groceries in the kitchen right now, he could hear you if you said it louder.

but jungkook hearing you must be exactly what yoongi wants because he gives you another spank that has you moaning his name way too loud. yoongi smiles at the sound.

“that’s a good slut.” he praises, his breath hitting your ear, and starts rubbing your pussy with his fingers from side to side so fast that you don’t know what to do with your body, your hips twitching and your cheeks reddening at the wet sound of his hand against your pussy.

god, you’re so wet.

“please…” you beg through a sound that’s close to a sob and it makes yoongi stop the movements of his hand and straighten up a little to look down at you, sitting back on his feet under him.

“please what?” he finally gives your pussy a break but you miss his hand, the one he’s bringing to his mouth right now. “messy fucking girl, i always have to clean you up, right?”

you hold your breath and your pussy throbs when he slips two of his wet fingers in his mouth and hums like it is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

“yoongi please.” you repeat even if you don’t know what you’re asking.

“is that the only word you know how to say now?” yoongi asks, not really paying attention to you but rather to cleaning your juices off his fingers. “i won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”

your desperation gives you the courage to sit up, your legs a little bent up on each side of yoongi, and grab at the hem of his shirt, tugging it up until it’s coming off. you throw it on the floor and take the chance to run your hands down his chest, feeling the hot skin under your fingers and getting so lost in it that the words come out of your mouth easily.

“i want your cock.” you blurt out, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“you want it?” yoongi says with that condescending tone again, like he’s talking to a dumb person.

fuck, you want him so bad.

you just nod in reply. he hums and then gets up on his knees, getting so close to you with how you’re sitting. “then pull it out.”

you hold your breath for a second. “can i?”

“of course you can.”

you don’t think about it twice. you hook your fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants again and tug them down, biting your lip at the sight of the outline of his hard cock under the fabric of his boxers.

he’s so big. and you want him so bad.

“c’mon,” yoongi urges you to do something and you finally tug down at his boxers. “there you go.”

you notice two things when you’ve pulled his boxers down to his thighs.

first one, he’s definitely big.

second one, yoongi has a piercing on his dick. right on the underside, under his tip, a barbell on his frenulum.

you have to bite back a moan at how hot you find it and yoongi seems to notice your reaction because he chuckles. “you’ve never seen one?” he says with a teasing tone and you look up at his face.

“can i…” you shift uncomfortably under him because you need your panties off.

“can you what?” you hold your breath when he brings a hand down to his cock, stroking it slowly. he is so close to you in the position you are right now.

“can i suck you off?” you blurt out before you can even worry about looking desperate.

you don’t miss the way he squeezes on the base of his cock as soon as you let the words out, but he shakes his head.

you’re about to complain when yoongi speaks up again. “i would love to fuck that pretty mouth, but i need to fuck that pussy first.” he nods down at your body.

you lean back, supporting yourself against your elbows, and look at him with puppy eyes now that you know they seem to work on him. “then come fuck it.” you know you’re pouting but you couldn’t care less right now. you need him so bad.

“it will be my pleasure,” he grins but then looks down at your chest. “but take that shirt of first.”

you obey instantly and take it off in a second, throwing it somewhere on the bedroom floor and finally laying down on your back. you don’t miss yoongi’s gaze on your bare chest.

“stop doing that.” you throw one arm over your eyes not to see the way he’s devouring you with his eyes.

“i’m not doing anything.”

“you’re looking.”

“am i supposed to look somewhere else?” he responds and you chuckle a little.

“no, but- ah!” a moan escapes your mouth when you feel yoongi’s mouth on one of your nipples. you unconsciously slap your hand over your mouth to muffle any other noise slipping out of it, but yoongi is quickly grabbing your wrist and pushing your arm away.

“none of that shit,” he says before starting to litter kisses all over your chest. your back arches a little when he flicks his tongue on your other nipple and he chuckles in response. “so cute.”

“just fuck me already.” you beg, feeling yourself getting even more wet each second.

“someone’s eager to get fucked, huh?” yoongi straightens up again and wraps his hand around his cock again, stroking it lazily like before. you can’t look away.

then all of the brattiness you have in you slips out your mouth. “no, i just think you’re making me wait longer because you don’t know what to do with that.” you nod towards his cock.

yoongi’s smile is gone when you look back at his face and you know you’re in trouble.

“i wanted to look at your face while i fucked you,” he starts and you can already sense a but coming. “but i want you on all fours now.” you open your mouth to say something but he shakes his head and speaks again. “turn around before you piss me off again.” he talks with such a low voice that you can’t deny him anything.

you turn around and get up on your hands and knees, though your breath hitches when he places a hand on your back and pushes down for you to get down on your elbows, you squish your cheek on his pillow.

yoongi curses behind you and you can sense he’s looking down at your exposed pussy. the reaction gives you the courage to arch your back, pressing your chest to the mattress and spreading your legs a little, just enough for him to see you better.

“if you tell me i can’t fuck you raw i’m gonna be mad.” he curses and you giggle.

“you can do it.”

“really?” yoongi asks. you appreciate that he’s making sure.

“yes, i let jungkook fuck me raw, you should do it too.” you respond and move your ass a little. “c’mon, i’m waiting.”

and you really thought he was gonna make you wait a little more, that’s why you gasp in surprise when yoongi rubs the tip of his cock through your folds.

“oh my god…” you mumble. “please, don’t tease.” you beg when he keeps rubbing it up and down. you can actually feel the piercing and you might go crazy.

“i don’t know, since you said i don’t know what to do with my cock maybe i shouldn’t give it to you.” yoongi says with a low chuckle as he places one of his hands on your hip.

“no, please.” you whine into the pillow, feeling like you could actually cry if he doesn’t slip it in right now.

“look at you, you haven’t stopped saying please since i first touched you.” he presses his tip to your clit and rubs it just right before pulling away and making you whine again.

“i swear to god if you don’t-” a loud moan escapes your mouth when you feel him slip in slowly. “oh fuck…” you mumble and bury your face on the pillow. but yoongi doesn’t seem to like that.

he’s suddenly threading his fingers through your hair so gently but then he tugs hard to lift your head from the pillow as he bottoms out. “wanna hear you.” he says.

“so good.” you manage to say as you support your upper body on your elbows so that the hair pulling doesn’t hurt a lot, just the necessary.

“yeah?” yoongi hums as he starts to pull out just as slowly as he slipped in.

“big…” you sigh and hear a hint of another chuckle before he slips in again.

“you’re so fucking tight, holy shit,” he groans and you can feel his hand on your hair faltering for a second so you clench around him to get a reaction. “oh fuck.” he moans and he sounds so hot that you push your ass back against him to make him bottom out again.

“you feel so good.” you whine and he finally lets go of your hair but you rest your head on your side for him to hear you.

“can i move?” yoongi asks, both hands on your hips now.

“yes please.” you beg.

and he’s not gentle, he fucks you hard right from the start. you can actually feel the cold piercing inside of you and you think you might go crazy. the sound of skin against skin the only thing echoing inside the room because it feels so good that no sound comes out of your mouth.

yoongi doesn’t like that. he gives your ass a hard spank as he bottoms out again and stays there.

“if i don’t hear you i’ll stop,” he warns you and you try to move your hips for him to start moving again, but his hard grip on them doesn’t let you. “did you understand?”

“yes.” you whine and another moan slips out of your mouth when he spanks you again.

“good slut.”

you think you’re gonna cry when he starts fucking you again. this time you allow yourself to let all the sounds out, not caring about how loud you are.

“yoongi...” your voice breaks when he starts hitting that sweet spot that makes your legs shake. your knees hurt but it feels so good you don’t want to change positions.

you’re so fucked out already, you wouldn’t be so gone at this point with anyone else, but somehow it feels different with yoongi.

“that feels good?” yoongi hums and you feel a little bit of pride at how broken his voice sounds too.

“yes!” you moan. “please, don’t stop… please.”

“fuck,” he truly seems to like to hear you beg. “it’s like this pussy was made for me.” and he won’t stop hitting that spot, you’re so fucking close.

“yours.” you mumble, completely fucked out, and clench when you hear him chuckle at the word.

“mine?” he teases, slowing down his thrusts.

you nod uncomfortably against the pillow and cry out when yoongi suddenly pulls out. “no, please…” you beg, desperately pushing your ass back for him to keep fucking you.

“no, turn around.” yoongi says and you have half a mind to obey, turning around on the bed and finally laying on your back with a relief sigh.

you’re quick to wrap your legs around him to push him closer. “please, yoongi, fuck me.” all shame is gone, you need him so bad.

“slut wants my cock?”

you nod.

“then say it.”

“i want your cock.” you bite your lip when he starts rubbing his tip through your folds again.

“who wants my cock?” yoongi asks, acting dumb. you want to cry.

“me.” you sigh, bucking your hips up to grind against his cock.

“who?” yoongi asks again and you get it now.

“your slut.” you answer. yoongi smirks proudly.

“who’s cock do you want?”

god. you will go insane at this point.

“yours.”

“mh, but that’s not enough for you, right?” he hums, looking down at where his cock is rubbing against you. your breath hitches when your dizzy mind is able to get what he means.

“i-”

“one cock is not enough for your, right?”

“yoongi…”

“you got fucked by one of your roommates two weeks ago and now you’re letting your other roommate fuck you too?” yoongi circles the tip of his cock on your clit, the piercing making it feel so good youe eyes roll back. “do you spread your legs for anyone who has a cock?”

“n- no…” you blush, the humilliating words making you feel so good somehow.

“no? just for us?” yoongi asks and leans down a little, the hand he was using to hold the base of his cock wrapping around your neck now.

“yes,” you sigh. everything feels so hot. “just for you.”

“yeah?” he hums. fuck, he’s so hot.

you try to nod but his hand around your neck squeezes a little. “fuck…” you moan, your pussy throbbing now.

“i knew you would like this, dirty girl,” yoongi chuckles and gives your neck another light squeeze as he starts slipping his cock into you again. “that’s a good slut.” he groans as you clench around him again.

yoongi keeps his hand around your neck as he starts fucking you, squeezing just lightly. and he knows what he’s doing, because the second he lets go you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever made. your hand flies to your mouth in embarrassment but yoongi grabs your wrist and pulls it over your head, pinning it right there.

“i wanna fucking hear you.” he says, hips hitting against the back of your thighs so hard as he fucks you at a brutal pace.

“jung- jungkook is home…” you mutter as a warning but he only laughs.

“is that an inconvenient now?” he gives you a deep thrust that makes your eyes roll back. “let him hear. should i ask him to come here too?”

“fuck.” you’re so close, if he keeps talking like that you’re gonna cum.

“i’m sure he’s listening from his room right now,” yoongi says, his thrusts hitting just right, you’re sure you’re creaming his cock by this point. “do you think he’s touching himself as he listens to you?”

“oh my god…” your hand twitches with the urge to cover your mouth again but he keeps it pinned to the mattress over your head, your other hand grips at the sheets tightly.

“i’m sure he wishes he was in my place right now.” he looks down at how your boobs bounce from the thrusts and you’re sure your cheeks are tomato red.

“so close...” you moan, your legs trembling around him.

“i start talking about jungkook and now you’re gonna cum?” yoongi teases, earning another whine from you. “wow, one cock is really not enough for you, isn’t it…”

“yoongi!” you squeak when you feel his free hand on your pussy, he starts rubbing circles on your clit.

“gonna cum around my cock?”

“yes! yes, please!” you’re so fucking loud now but you couldn’t care less.

“you want him to hear you, huh?” yoongi chuckles.

“i’m g- gonna cum…” you mumble, the words almost not coming out.

“say his name,” yoongi says and you open your eyes in shock, pussy clenching around him. “say his name or you’re not coming.” he warns as he slows down his thrusts.

“yoongi, no…” you cry out.

“that’s not his name.” yoongi gives your clit a little lap that makes your body twitch.

“ju… jungkook.” you try and blush right after. it feels so wrong to moan someone else’s name in bed, you know yoongi wants it but it makes you feel so dirty. he wants you to feel like that.

“louder, baby.” he says and the contrast between that petname and the names he was calling you before makes you feel like you’re gonna pass out.

“jungkook!” you finally say, making yoongi grin down at you.

“that’s it, say it again.” he says and resumes the pace he was fucking you with before.

“jungkook!” you moan louder and yoongi’s fingers on your clit is faster. “fuck! oh my- ah! gonna cum!”

“good slut,” yoongi hums. “c’mon, cum for us.”

us.

the stupid word and its implications make you clench impossibly tight around him as the craziest shock waves run through your whole body. your vision goes blurry so you close your eyes while your body goes limp, completely exhausted as you feel yoongi slipping out.

you’re about to complain when you open your eyes and see him stroking his cock and moaning as white stripes of cum land on your sweaty chest.

“oh my god…” you sigh and throw one of your arms over your eyes.

you hum when you feel yoongi’s hand on your cheek. “are you okay?” he speaks so softly you could’ve sworn he’s not the guy who just fucked you.

“yeah.” you reply and something makes you start giggling lazily.

“what are you laughing about now?” yoongi says but yo can hear a smile in his voice.

“i can’t believe that happened.” you mumble and put your arm down to look at him.

“well, it happened.” he leans down and gives your lips a sweet kiss, then he gets down from the bed.

you watch him put his sweatpants and grab a towel from one of the drawers on his closet as your chest keeps going up and down, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

“seriously, are you okay?” he asks when he comes back to bed and sits down next to you, cleaning his cum from your stomach.

“yeah, just… a little sore,” you chuckle, your cheeks burning from how gentle he’s suddenly being with you. “i don’t know if i’m gonna be able to get up.”

“you can stay here for as long as you want.” he says softly and folds the towel, throwing it on a basket where you suppose he puts his dirty clothes.

“i would stay here all day,” you admit. “but i have work and i have to eat first.”

“i can prepare a bath for you,” yoongi says and your heart does something weird in your chest. “for your sore muscles.” he rubs a hand up and down your bare thigh.

“can you do that?” you look at him with big eyes.

“of course i can.”

“how can you be so sweet after everything you just did to me?” you ask and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again.

“aftercare is important, i take that really seriously.”

“okay,” you smile sweetly at him. “then go prepare that bath.”

he snorts. “brat.” but he stands up again and walks out of the room, closing the door after.

you stay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything you just did in this bed. and you feel kinda good and giddy about it until you remember about jungkook.

you moaned his name. you yelled his name. and he for sure heard you. you shake the thoughts away from your head and decide to get up from bed. you need that bath.

your body begs you to lay down when you manage to stand up, your legs are sore and your whole body is so weak that you almost fall down when you grab yoongi’s shirt from the floor. you hum pleasantly when you put the shirt on and notice it covers you perfectly, yoongi always wears big clothes.

your trembling legs guide you out of the room and the smell of food cooking in the kitchen hits your nose and almost makes you moan at how hungry you are, jungkook must be cooking lunch right now. since he must be in the kitchen you take the chance to run to the bathroom, where yoongi is preparing your bath. but you’re proved wrong when you collapse against a hard chest in the middle of the corridor.

jungkook is looking down at you with something you can’t really read in his eyes. he just walked out of his room, he had probably left the food cooking in the kitchen.

“hi!” you say like nothing ever happened because you’re still so embarrassed, your cheeks burning again.

“hey.” jungkook mumbles and separates from you, motioning to walk past you and back to the kitchen.

you are walking past him and to the bathroom when he says your name, making you turn to him. “yes?”

“next time just come to my room instead of thinking about me when you’re with him.”

you freeze. you literally don’t know what to say.

you open your mouth to try and say something, probably something stupid, when yoongi appears right behind you.

“i think you should just join us next time.” he says and the smug expression on jungkook’s face completely disappears. he turns around and walks inside the kitchen again.

your shoulders drop in disappointment because the reaction kind of felt like a rejection but yoongi places his hand on your shoulder.

“he will come around,” he tells you. “he’s just stubborn.”

“yeah…” you mumble and turn around to follow him into the bathroom.

“you really want him, huh?” yoongi teases you but you completely ignore him, standing in front of the mirror and cringing at how messy you look. “my shirt looks good on you.” he adds, standing behind you.

a little smirk grows on your face as you look at him in the mirror. “you fuck me once and you’re already in love with me?” you tease.

“wow, look at how bratty that mouth is,” yoongi mumbles, crossing his arms against his chest. “but then you barely speak a word when you’re getting fucked.” that shuts your mouth completely and he looks proud of it.

“shut up…” you mumble and turn around to push him out of the bathroom. “get out, i wanna enjoy my bath.”

yoongi just chuckles to himself before turning around and leaving. you only notice the dumb smile on your face when you look at yourself in the mirror again.

yoongi has you smiling like that. and you also remember jungkook, how he basically told you to have sex with him again and the invitation actually sparked something inside of you.

you were just roommates a month ago but now you’re starting a dangerous game with the both of them. the thing is that it feels good, you can only hope it turns out alright.

A/N: askssjdnandkdjas i hope you liked this chapter, please let me know your thoughts !!! it helps a lot to have feedback <3 i'm obviously makind this a series so pls look forward for the next chapter :) 💖 thank you all for reading ! have a nice day babes

TAGLIST: @m4gg13-g @kooksbunnnn @baechugff @danielle143 @signingsongbird @dontcallmeelle @fancy-cloud @melakrish

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yanderenightmare · 7 months

Text

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: yandere, kidnapping

fem reader

Just had another thought about bully!Bakugou and quirkless childhood friend!darling...

You fall off the grid after high school only to reveal yourself several years later, right in the thick of his career.

He’s been recruited to go on an undercover mission to uncover a major drug scheme. He and a female operative are to play newlyweds, living together in a pretty suburban picket fence house where you'll be conducting surveillance on the neighboring family.

When you walk into the brief, you don’t give any sign of having recognized him. Nor him you, even though his chest and throat tightened to the point he had to stifle a cough.

When you sit down, you’re calm and collected while letting slip a smooth, breathless scoff – giving a slight smirk, saying calmly, “You jokers chose this landmine for a covert mission?”

“You two know each other?”

Your eyes slide off to look at Bakugou, eyeing him up and down where he sits – trying his best to hide it, but your trained eyes see it clear as day – rigid, short-breathed, a little sweaty. He’s shocked, he’s nervous, he’s even a little embarrassed.

You smile. And despite the history, all you offer in answer is a curt, “We used to.”

Bakugou feels like you have him by the balls. His jaw doesn’t unlock during the entirety of the meeting, reading the list of your responsibilities while they’re explained. How the entire neighborhood might be both bugged and surveyed by the target, so you’ll have to perform as a real married couple every waking hour – including eating together, sleeping together, kissing each other, fucking each other so as not to raise any suspicion.

You don’t budge or show any tells. You’ve been trained for this, and you’ve done this type of work plenty of times before already. Bakugou had read your file, so he knew – but shit, how weren’t you uncomfortable?

The mission lasts three long months and seventeen days. And when it’s done, you fall right off the grid again as though none of it had meant a thing.

And he knows that that’s how it’s supposed to be. He knows none of it is supposed to be real, but how can it not have been? It can't have all been a performance. He rejects that. He refuses it. He knows for certain you couldn’t have been acting all that time. You couldn’t because he hadn’t.

He’s breaking so many rules, tracking you down. And your disgust of his unprofessionalism is written all over your face when you open the door to find him having been the one to ring your doorbell. Still, you save saying anything but gesture for him to come inside.

“You weren’t easy to find-”

“This is gross misconduct, Bakugou. I can have you reported.” You cut him off. He’s not heard that voice come out of you. When you were his wife, you’d only speak sweetly – lovingly and dotingly, often with your arms slung around him, your hands in the short stubble at the back of his neck, smiling up at him so prettily.

You were scowling now.

“Are you?” He asks.

You stare at him for a moment, but then you give in with a sigh – trodding off to what he guesses is the kitchen without an answer to his question. But the silence is an answer in and of itself.

You dress differently than you did. No frilly little dress. But sweatpants and a tank – no jewelry, no makeup, hair undone.

You open the fridge and hand him a beer, then you crack one open yourself. “I have something stronger if you need it.” You say then, but he waves a no. So you lean against the counter and bring your can up to your lips. “Why are you here?”

He watches you drink for a moment. When you were his wife, you didn’t like beer, you only drank white wine, and it always made you tipsy after a couple of sips. You would never even finish a glass before becoming slow and dull-eyed. Suppose he’d never actually seen you drunk at all…

He doesn’t open his beer, feeling the cold dew drip over his knuckles. “Do you miss it?” He asks.

You look him in the eyes with slanted ones of your own. “I’m not humoring that question. If you’re having issues, you should file for a shrink. The bureau offers the best, they’ll suck out all the shit from your mind, and you’ll go back to normal within a week or two.”

“I don’t wanna go back to normal.”

You look annoyed, but then your face softens. “It’s like that the first time. It’ll pass.”

He doesn’t believe you. In your file, it said that you’d done this seven times before. Sometimes much longer than the months you’d spent together.

“It was a job, now it’s over. You need to shut the door on it and move on with your life.”

You say that, but looking around your space, it seems your job doesn’t allow much of life to take place. You have a couch and a TV, but otherwise, everything is barren. No pictures on the walls, no decorations. Where a dining table should stand, you have workout equipment instead, sprawled out over the entire floor. And if he saw your fridge correctly, you only have beer and TV dinners.

“You always on the job?” He asks.

You place your finished beer upside down in the sink, letting the last drops dry off while muttering out a retort, “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t hear it, though. Too busy looking at you, standing there against the sink – looking the way you did when you’d wash dishes after dinner. You’re not wearing a summer dress or an apron – but you stand the same way. Slightly bent over, hips pushed into the countertop, ass pushed out like a welcome.

He sets his beer off on the counter and takes his spot behind you, sliding his bigger hands around your small waist, slotting himself against you with his crotch nudged nicely against your butt. It feels right.

You make a small sound, going a little rigid at the unsuspected attack – but weren’t brash enough to push him away. You were rational enough to accept you wouldn’t be able to if you tried.

“You sure you don’t miss it?” He asks again in a murmur, brushing his lips up your artery – nuzzling against you – his heavy chest resting against your shoulder blades – and you could feel the equally heavy pounding of his heart.

“Listen, Bakugou… whatever you think you miss, it doesn’t exist.” You state flatly. “Dominic and Suzie aren’t real.”

Those had been your names. Dominic and Suzie, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. Your identities for three months. But now, no more.

“But they can be…” Bakugou whispered back, tugging you a little closer – then released a small breathless laugh. “We always used to say we’d get married one day, remember? When we were brats…”

A small smile creased a dimple on your cheek at the memory, but only for a small second before you remembered everything he’d put you through after. “We’re not brats anymore. And honestly-” You catch your tongue and never finish the thought. It’s so long ago it doesn’t matter.

You sigh, knowing you’re lying to yourself.

You relax again and drop your head back to rest on his shoulder, overlapping his hands with yours. “In retrospect, we should have filed for replacement from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You pause a little bit, weighing whether you want to tell him or not. “I felt I had something to prove.” You confess. “You’ve always made me feel worthless, so when I was presented with the opportunity to rub it in your face, the child in me couldn’t resist.”

You thought it would feel like a victory, a sweet revenge, but in the end, it just made you disappointed in yourself. How could you think playing house with a person you hate would do you any justice?

“It was stupid, and I regret it. I’m better than that.” You add resolutely. “Nevertheless, mission complete. It’s behind us now.”

Bakugou didn’t agree, still holding you the same way he’d done.

“You should let go of me.” You sigh again. “I’m not gonna act like Suzie for you, so-”

“I don’t want you to act like Suzie.” He interjected, nuzzling against your neck with a whisper. “I want you... the real you.”

You scoff. “Fuck- Katsuki, look around you. There’s nothing here to want.”

“Let’s make something then.” He argues, pressing a soft kiss below your ear. “It was always supposed to be us two. From the start.”

“What are you talking about?” You won't deny the contact feels good. Good enough to make your voice come out in a moan.

“I’m talking about me and you, anywhere we choose.” He continues with his kisses, and you close your eyes to the feeling but still scoff at the offer.

“You’re talking about a dream. I’m not leaving my job to chase some fantasy with you.”

There's a silence, and Bakugou’s voice comes out more serious after. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

Your brows furrow, and you open your eyes again.

He still kisses your neck, now with his hands rubbing firm circles in your sides.

“You were very hard to find…” He mutters. “I doubt anyone would notice if you went missing…”

“Katsuki-” You protest, still calm as you try and push yourself from the counter, but it’s an aimless effort. His touches only grow stronger to keep you in place.

“The bureau would think you’d decided to go private or retire. And given your record, I don’t think they’d spend too many resources trying to find you.”

“Katsuki, let go-” It’s scary, but you’ve been in scarier situations, so you’re able to keep your cool still – despite the chills that run up your spine from his speech. “You’re talking crazy-”

“Living like this is what’s crazy.” He answers.

His apartment looks the same. Nothing personal anywhere except a vain mantle lined with diplomas and trophies he’d received for civic duties when he’d laid his life on the line. Otherwise, it was as stale as a cheap hotel room – no art, no pictures, no carpets, not even a lamp. Just the necessities. Kitchen articles and a bed.

“I need you. And by the looks of things, you need me too.”

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explicit-tae · 7 months

Text

Ungodly Hour: Day 2

You decide to give Jungkook exactly what he wanted - a date. @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.658

Warning: semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), smut, simp jungkook, car sex, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talking, feelings being expressed :'), dom jungkook, submissive reader,

DAY 2

“Excuse me?” Jungkook is taken aback by your words and he releases a deep scoff from his throat. “No.”

You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s dramatic response. “I’m saying. It doesn’t have to be anything over the top.”

“Y/N…” Jungkook grasps both of your hands from the other side of the kitchen island. “...we’re not having our first date in my living room binge watching Law & Order and eating pizza.”

You sigh and slump your shoulders. “We can even watch whatever nerd shit-”

“Nerd shit?!” Jungkook appears offended. “Just because I watch a little Marvel.” he then shakes his head. “Look, that's honestly besides the point. Me and you are going on a real date.”

The following morning when you woke up, you were surprised to not see Jungkook. You recalled after the shower the two of you took that slumber came soon after, you sporting one of his shirts. The spot where you last recalled him was left cold, meaning that he was gone for the majority of the time you slept.

You washed up, brushing your teeth vigorously to get rid of your morning breath. You then make your way down the hall to where you hear Jungkook scurrying around in the kitchen. “You don’t have to be so sappy.” you recall snickering, leaning against the other side of the island.

“Seriously?” Jungkook scoffed. “I woke up early to assure you have an amazing breakfast and this is what you say to me?” Jungkook shook his head but there's a tiny smile on his lips. “Picked these flowers fresh for you this morning. Hope the neighbor doesn’t mind.” Your eyes glanced at the assorted flowers that appeared as if they’ve been snatched from someone’s garden - the stems are all different sizes and didn’t appear to be bought from a shop or a grocery store.

You and Jungkook ate breakfast, you happily munching on everything he cooked for you without as much as a care. You and him sat side by side, entirely too close, and enjoyed the company the two of you provided.

“Let’s go on a date.” Jungkook had said once he was done with his own food - a random silence falling before the two of you prior to him speaking.

Your head turned to Jungkook slowly, his eyes already on you and awaiting a response.

“You already said you were my girl…” Jungkook trailed off, lifting his hand to cup your chin. “...if you cut off the play hard to get game you love to play, then we can do what we both want to do.”

“Okay.” you nodded your head, not only surprising yourself at your agreement, but also Jungkook. His eyes turned wide and in an instant, he’s smiling wide.

“I’m thinking…a picnic? A movie? Dinner? How about we just do it all?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“A picnic movie…dinner?” you tilt your head with a smile on your lips. “Isn’t that what I suggested we do here?”

“Fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook drops your hands to run his hands through his hair. “You don’t go out on date’s much, do you?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, you think.

“Dates are supposed to be things we do outside the home.” Jungkook says slowly, speaking as if you were a child.

“I know what a fucking date is.” you roll your eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you plan this…picnic movie dinner date. Whatever the fuck that is.”

Jungkook then claps his hands together. “Thank you!” Jungkook comes around the island to wrap you in a tight embrace, your back against his torso. “Then soon you’ll agree to be my girlfriend and everything will fall into place.”

“I don’t think so.” you snicker, but even you didn’t believe your words. You were, damn you say this, beginning to like having Jungkook around.

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hums, his embrace only getting tighter. “Who knows what you’ll agree to when you’re on my dick.”

“Excuse-”

“I feel like you’ll agree to a marriage proposal as long as I fuck you right.” Jungkook continues, chuckling after the words are spoken. His right hand grips your breast tightly before it dips down between your legs.

Jungkook’s shocked when you initial the kiss first, turning your head to press a needy kiss to his lips. It causes him to groan into it, cupping your sex entirely.

“Can I sit on your face?” you plead.

“Always.” Jungkook nods hastily, hoisting you off of the island stool to make his way down the hall to his bedroom.

NIGHT 2

“How the hell did he get my mother’s number?” you asked Jungkook in pure disbelief, re-reading Jimin’s tweet.

“Please don’t involve me in that.” Jungkook glances away from the road to you. “I have no idea how. It’s Jimin. He has his ways.”

You groan, turning off your phone and putting it to the side. “Fuck Jimin.”

“Well, he is the reason you agreed to go on a date with me. He’s going to be the godfather to our children.”

You snarl at Jungkook’s words, heat rushing through you. “You always go years in advance, do you?” you grumble. “I thought Jimin hated me.”

“Hate you? Of course not!” Jungkook begins to laugh as if it's the funniest statement in the world. “He actually really likes us together. Says we fit.”

You furrow your brows at the new information. Jimin wasn’t an outright asshole, but neither was he someone you considered that “liked you”.

“He’s just a little upset. I kicked him off the streaming services so you can have a better experience.” Jungkook snorts. “But he tells me all the time that he ships us.”

“Huh.” you nod slowly. “I suppose that means I have your friend’s approval.” you joke.

“Of course.” Jungkook laughs. He places a hand on your thigh while the other is firmly on the steering wheel. “I already met the in-laws. You milk my dick every night-”

“Ugh.” you slap his hand away from your thigh and cross your arms. “Y/N, baby. Stop denying fate.” Jungkook says. “We’re going on our first date. It has to be something to tell our kids about. So if you can kindly behave.”

Jungkook was adamant about a picnic movie dinner date - in his own way. The night is cool and far too chilly to have a picnic outside, not only that, but it was dark. He managed to find a drive in theater that was showing a horror movie tonight and before the journey there, he had gathered dinner - chinese takeout with an abundance of drinks and snacks to share along the way.

“Kinda dead.” you note as Jungkook comes to the drive-in theater. There’s a man at a concession stand who appeared to be half asleep upon Jungkook entering. He doesn’t bother to stop Jungkook so he can pay, just nodding his head for him to drive along.

“Even better.” Jungkook murmurs to himself. There’s only 2 cars that he can see parked further from one another and from his own. “I’m so excited.”

You couldn’t help but grim st Jungkook’s excitement. His determination to date you was cute, you’d admit.

“What movie is on now?” you ask, taking off your seatbelt to get comfortable.

“Let’s see…it follows.” Jungkook scrolls through his phone for a bit. “Followed by some more horror. We can stay for one more if you’d like.”

You nod your head.

The date was nice. Jungkook kept his car on so the heat could circulate and the both of you ate and talked, laughing at a few scenes or small jokes that each of you would send.

Was this what your life turned to? A domesticated realtionship with Jeon Jungkook - the same boy you swore was the embodiment of a fuck boy? Your mother always told you not to judge a book by its cover and that’s exactly what you had done with him.

But you’d give yourself slack. Jungkook looked like a fuck boy - tattoos, piercings, hot body and was a smooth talker? How could you think any other way?

But then Jungkook and his stubborn competitiveness came in. He was determined to prove you wrong - prove that he could be someone you could like more than just a fuck buddy.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook turns to you, a trail of sauce down the side of his lips. “You’ve been staring into space for a while now.”

You take a sip of your drink - Jungkook insisted you tried this flavored soda that was one of his favorites; you weren’t so sure if you liked it as much. “Just thinking.”

“While there’s a murderer on the loose?” Jungkook furrows a brow, licking the sauce away with his tongue. “You would surely be the first to die.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What is it that you like about me exactly?”

Jungkook turns to you fully. “I had this speech set out for a one year anniversary.” he sighs.

“Can you get serious?” your body feels hot and Jungkook laughs.

“I like how stubborn you are. You always keep me on my toes. I never get bored when I’m with you.”

“Yet.”

Jungkook frowns. “Don’t ruin the moment with your negativity.” he quips. “You aren’t afraid to shit talk me even when I know deep down in that shell of a heart…” Jungkook smirks at your scowling face. He drops his chopsticks into the container he was eating and grasps your chin between his fingers. “...you love my company just as much as I love yours.”

“Simp.” you mumble.

“I’ll always simp for my girl.” Jungkook retorts. “If you don’t believe me, Y/N. I can continue.” Jungkook drops your chin. “I come to like the way you look in the morning. Drool on my pillow-”

“Fuck you.” you groan. “-while you snuggle close into me.” Jungkook laughs at your reaction. “I like watching you eat until you’re full and not be embarrassed that I’m watching. I love cooking for you, too.”

You swallow at Jungkook’s words.

“I like buying you things because there’s that softness in your eyes when I give it to you. It’s nice for those few seconds that you’re silent, just smiling. It makes me want to buy you even more things.”

“You can stop now.” you murmur to him, your heart pumping out your chest, so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

“I like how good to me you are.”

“I don’t think I’m that good.” you scoff with a shake of your head. You don’t do anything for Jungkook - not as much as he does for you, that is.

“You are.” Jungkook begins to close the lids of his food, deciding that the food could wait. He places the food back inside the bags and discards them in his back seat. “You’re so good for me. When you sit on my face. When you let me take control. You’re always good to me.”

With each passing word, Jungkook’s voice drops until it’s in a complete whisper.

“You allow me to hold you close, to kiss you, touch you…” you don’t realize how your legs are clenching until it’s friction. Curse your body for giving out on you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and his deep voice.

“I can go on and on all night, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks with a tilt of his head.

You inhale, closing your eyes for a bit. “Jungkook…” you say, opening your eyes to look straight at him. “...take your dick out.”

Jungkook furrows his brows at your request. “Huh-”

“Just take your dick out.” you say, shoving Jungkook in the shoulder.

Seriously, fuck Jeon Jungkook and his way of words that makes you just want to wrap your mouth around his dick.

Jungkook nods hastily, wasting no time doing what he’s told.

The car isn’t big - you’re used to a lot of space when being with Jungkook. But, you would make it work. You wrap a hand around the base of Jungkook cock, tongue sticking out. A trail of saliva falls onto the tip of his cock and Jungkook shudders.

You begin to suck on the tip of Jungkook’s cock, focusing on it entirely. Your hands pump the length of him just like you know he likes it.

Jungkook places a hand on top of your head, resting in your hair. He winches in pleasure, eyes snapping shut.

You take Jungkook in you deeper and deeper - so deep that he’s hitting the back of your throat. You’re clenching around nothing now, your underwear soaking by the second, but you didn’t care. You wanted Jungkook now more than ever - if even possible. The sounds of your slurping echo off the car walls, Jungkook turning down the radio so the movie wouldn’t distract him from you.

“You’re always so, fuck…good to me.” Jungkook pants. It’s like he’s told you - there was never a true dull moment. Even outside of sex, he never knows when he’s going to get himself into when he’s with you.

You pop his cock from your mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting your mouth to it. “Do you want to cum in my mouth?” you ask him, wheezing. “Or on my face?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jungkook’s cheeks are dusted red by your sudden question. He’s never thought about cumming on your face - and the thought now interests him. However, it also makes him feel as though you’re something that he doesn’t think of you as - a simple slutty hookup.

Your tongue twirls slowly onto the tip, lightly passing the small hole as you await his response.

“J-Just…fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook throws his head back and lets out a whine. “Can I fuck you?”

You knit your brows. “No room-”

“Back seat.” Jungkook rushes to say.

“What if someone sees?” your heart is pumping with adrenaline at just the thought of being caught with Jungkook now.

“It’s dark.” Jungkook scoffs. “And who even cares?”

You lick your lips and nod your head. “Wanna ride you.” you whine low and it doesn’t take long for you to be fully undressed in the back of Jungkook’s car - Jungkook removing the bottom half of his clothing before joining you.

It’s cramped, you’d admit, but it doesn’t bother you. You tried your best not to cause too much commotion in your riding - the car was already moving from side to side - but Jungkook wasn’t going to allow any hesitation. He didn’t care what others saw - not like anyone was watching. His hands are roaming your naked body, watching with hooded eyes as you take him.

“Everything…okay?” Jungkook pants, biting his lip to hide yet another pleasurable moan. You nod your head, arms wrapped around Jungkook’s neck. You’re unsure yourself where the stamina came from - Jungkook was always the one with the unwavering speed and energy.

“Why do you ask?” Jungkook’s cock is so deep inside of you that you never want to stop riding him.

“You’re fucking yourself so good.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping the flesh of your ass. “Just thought maybe there was…” he stops for a moment when he feels you clench around him and it takes everything in him to not flip you over. “...something on your mind.”

There was, you think. You leaned away from Jungkook to watch his expression - the low eyes, whispering “fuck” and “shit” every other moment mixed with the pure bliss on his face.

“I love your cock.” you admit with a high pitched moan. Oftentimes you’d refrain from giving Jungkook any satisfaction so early on.

“Yeah?” there was a deep chuckle in Jungkook’s voice. Any chance you had of being in control is taken when Jungkook begins to thrust upwards to meet your hips.

Sober you - and not the dick drunk person you are now - are surely going to look back and die of humiliation. Who were you giving a man the satisfaction of knowing what you loved about them?

“You always fuck me so good.” you capture Jungkook’s lips on your own, fully allowing him to take control. “You treat me well, too.”

Jungkook kisses down your jaw, his thrusts never halting. So this is why you were doing this - sucking his cock like your life depended on it and then attempting to milk him dry. He supposed this was your way of telling him that you liked him - in a typical you way of things. Only when you were being fucked so good could you ever admit these feelings for him.

But, Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way - he loved breaking down those walls you put up.

“I’ll always treat you well.” Jungkook grunts. “Come here.” Jungkook maneuvers you so that you’re against the seat, ass in the air. He wasn’t going to let the tight space stop him from fucking you the way he wanted to.

Another pleasurable whine escapes you when Jungkook re-enters you. The new position allows him to go deeper, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. One hand rests onto your hip to keep you in place while another hoists you up by your neck.

“What else, baby?” Jungkook says between thrusts. “What else do you like about me?”

Jungkook was getting off to this, fully understanding that you wouldn’t admit these feelings for him any other way. You were far too stubborn - but that didn’t mean he never wanted to hear them.

“Y-You deal with me. You’re always so…so…” your eyes begin to flutter close, pussy pulsing around Jungkook’s cock. It’s as if with each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper, fully fucking every inch of life out from you. “...so nice to me.”

Jungkook leans down, his tongue licking from the middle of your back to your shoulder. He then presses a kiss against your shoulder blade. “You know you’re my girl. I’ll always be kind to you.”

“I-I know, baby.”

Fuck.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. This was something he was never going to live down and the sober part of you hopes that he didn’t hear you say the little pet name that the dick drunk side of you said.

Of course, Jungkook did and his eyes widened slightly.

“You like me.” Jungkook laughs a joyous tune - it’s as if he isn’t plunging his cock deep inside of you right now. He has a boyish grin on his lips as he continues. The hand on your hope makes its way between your legs, rubbing along on your wet clit. “You like me, Y/N!” he sing-songs.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook - because wasn’t it obvious that you liked him? You spent more time with him than you did with anyone else - even Chaeyoung was beginning to question if things had gotten further than you told her.

“Didn’t I tell you I can have you saying anything for me if I fucked you good enough?”

Fuck. Jeon. Jungkook.

Jungkook’s fingers continue to play with your clit, his pounding never ceasing. This is what fueled Jungkook - your moans, the clenching of your pussy, you admitting that you liked him - no matter how obvious it was outside of sex. Hearing you say it was enough to fuel him even further.

“It’s a matter of time before you admit you love me.” there it was, the deep sultriness in Jungkook’s voice has returned. “But we can wait a little longer for that. I’ve waited this long to hear you admit you liked me.”

You’re sobbing now due to overstimulation - that and Jungkook always had a way with words just as he had a way with using his dick.

“You always look so pretty when you take me.” Jungkook’s warm breath is right against your ear. It causes you to shudder while goosebumps litter your skin. “You know sometimes I think about how there’s guys I know that want you.”

You whimper when Jungkook’s hand slaps along your clit harshly.

“But I have you here in my car creaming my cock.” Jungkook cackles as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “It brings great satisfaction knowing that I’m the one that has you. That Y/L Y/N who was once known to deny everyone…” Jungkook kisses your shoulder blade once more. “...is crying for my cock. Say it, baby. Say you only want me.”

“O-Only want you.” you comply far too quickly, a pathetic sob coming right after.

You’re cumming - it waves down on you hard. You don’t notice you’re crying with ecstasy until you’re blinking them away to focus on anything.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby. Only me.” Jungkook picks up the pace of his thrusts, sloppy. Your pussy is so wet that it squelches loudly. “Only us.” is all Jungkook is mustered to say before he himself is cumming, twitching with pleasure right inside of you.

Each time Jungkook cums inside of you always seems to be more intense than the last. He doesn’t release his cock from inside of you until he’s softening, the cum trailing down your thigh painfully slow.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks when he catches his breath, laying you gently against his seats. “I think we need a safe word. You never tell me when I go too far.” he murmurs, only half jokingly.

You mumble something beneath your breath and Jungkook comes closer to hear it.

Your body turns, your back now against his seat. Jungkook awaits for you to speak. “I’m so sleepy.”

Jungkook snickers. “I bet.” he responds. “You have work tomorrow, right?”

You nod your head, dreading the fact. Your work shifts are never long - but being with Jungkook majority of the day made life a little more bearable.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and making you want to be around him more.

“We should probably head home then.” Jungkook leans away but you grab his shirt. He stops, eyes fixed on you. “Yeah, baby?”

You lean forward a bit to capture his lips. It’s quick, nothing but a peck but it causes both of your hearts to leap.

Part 6 Teaser | Series Masterlist

#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #fake tweets #bts college au #ungodly hour #explicit-tae #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net #jungkook fwb #bts fwb

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

YALL BASED ON THIS VIDEO HERE IM SCREAMING-

It’s been hours since you’ve smiled at Rintaro.

Not since this morning when you left. He was home today, all day, left to watch your three year old, and be home to see your nine year old. You’d kissed the side of his nose, reminded him of some chores, and everything was fine for you to go out and do your own set of errands.

But to come home to a trash bag sitting outside of the door and not in the barrel that got emptied today?

Oh. Screw smiling.

There may have been a small argument that broke out once you told him, about how he assumed you’d take the trash out since you were leaving the house- of which you snapped that it’s not your responsibility to automatically take out the trash when you leave.

Your son, Akito, was only left to watch the chaos, setting up the console he and his father were about to play on.

“I forgot, okay!” He snaps, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take it out later, it’s fine!”

“It’s not fine!” You yell back. “The trash was already taken! It’s worthless at this point to do it!”

He looks like he’s about to say something back, but you see him bite his tongue. “Good choice,” you snarl. Leaving him and Akito, you make your way upstairs and into your bedroom where you get changed into something that doesn’t emit outside-world feeling. You take a quick shower, wash your face, and when you step out still angry, you’re quick to make a new game plan.

Once you’re done with your small dose of self care, you stomp into the kitchen for something to eat, hoping that it’ll help curb any further anger coming from you both.

Crackers and cheese, some little slices of fruit which you intend to pair with they jelly you got on your last visit to the city.

You grab the jar and with a deep, frustrated exhale, you grip the cover and try to twist.

When it doesn’t budge, you feel your eye twitch.

You try again, to no avail. You grab the nearest towel in an attempt to get a better grip. No dice.

You sigh, tossing the rag to the side before stalking your way into the living room, grimace etched on your face.

“Can you open this?” You ask, and just as Rintaro pauses the game and tosses his controller aside to reach for the jar, you slip right past him and pass it to Akito, who takes it in his hands to pop open the lid.

With a small grunt he manages to open the lid, passing you the jar with a small smile, “here, ma.”

“Thank you, handsome man,” you hum, blowing him a kiss and blowing a raspberry at Rintaro when you make your way back to the kitchen. There’s a pause of silence, a question you don’t quite catch from your son, and suddenly, you hear your husband jump up from the couch. You smirk. It doesn’t take long before feet quickly pound their way into the kitchen, and a disgruntled Rintaro stands, pouting, in the doorway.

“What. Was that about?”

You shrug softly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” he says, brows furrowed in frustration. “You’re seriously going to use my own creation against me?”

“Your creation?” You scoff in disbelief. “First off, I don’t remember you carrying our two children around for nine damn months. Second of all, our children are not creations. They’re children.”

“Point one,” he begins, quickly walking over to you. “You were hot as fuck carrying around our spawn. Secondly? Last time I checked, our baby machines only worked when together.”

“Feral!” You snap, giving him a grossed out look before turning towards the snacks you’d been making. “Get the hell out of my kitchen, I don’t want you here- HEY!”

Before you can think, Rintaro reaches past you and grabs the jar of jam, quickly raising his arm above his head to get it out of your reach. You would’ve tickled him for it, but the jam was from a small business three cities over. And the fuckhead knew that, and you hate him for it.

“You’re such a pain!” You growl, making a jump for it. You barely come close. Your fingers wrap around his shoulder in an attempt to yank his arm down, but he tightens it up completely to make it immobile. You’re rendered completely helpless to your husbands cruelty.

“Akito!” You call your son in hopes for assistance, snarling up at your husband. Instantly, socked feet slip along the floor, and at the sight of his figure in the doorframe, Rintaro bears his teeth.

“Don’t help your mother, she has to learn a lesson!” He snaps.

You growl back, “don’t listen to your father, you and your sister’s snacks depend on it!” Akito’s green, confused eyes flick back and forth between you both, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d think about how absolutely hilarious this is.

Rintaro, in all his 185 cm glory, holding a damned jar of jam above his head, so much so a sliver of his side pokes out from his shirt, and you, crossing your arms childishly after making extreme reaches for the jar.

It’s ridiculous, it’s childish, and it’s perfect for your marriage.

Akito gnaws his lip, “I mean… Ma is the boss, dad-“

“If you scram, I’ll double your allowance this week.”

“Bye mom!”

With the last bit of hope you have, you watch as he skates his way back into the living room, eye twitching in annoyance. “Kaiya wouldn’t betray me like that!”

“She’s three, mom!”

“She’d still help!”

Left to your own pity, you once again make a reach for the jar, only for him to reel his arm back a little bit more. “Give me a break, I have snacks to make,” you say, voice pitched in annoyance and defeat.

“Tell me you won’t go to our son for husband jobs.”

“Tell me you’ll take out the trash when I tell you to!”

“I thought you were throwing it out!”

“Why would you not check!”

“I didn’t think I had to!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll check on your waking daughter,” Akito calls annoyed from the living room, the only thing breaking up your argument.

With a deep, exhausted breath, Rintaro slowly lowers his arm, though still keeping a slight distance between you. “Cant we both say we’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong,” you snip.

“I know, but for the sake of waking our three year old up, please just cave with me. Please, baby. I’m-“

He’s cut off by your quick lunge for the jar. He yanks it out of the way, and you’re left chasing it like a dog with a treat. You do, however, hear your husband laugh, but it’s not the laughter of victory from a few moments ago.

It’s laughter of adoration.

“I will leave you.”

“Gotta get the jar first.”

You, once again, for the nth time in a row, make a reach for it, but this time, Rintaro’s free arm quickly wraps around your waist to encase you in a hug, and he leans you back into the most ridiculous dip you’ve ever been apart of. You can’t begin to fight your own laughter that bubbles past your lips, fingers instinctively gripping his collar for stability.

Once your titters are finished ringing in the air, he straightens you both up, relaxing as you thunk your head against his chest. The jar gets put down on the counter, and he kisses the crown of your head sweetly as his arms tug you close.

“You’re annoying,” you purr.

He chuckles, “I know.” He closes his eyes and gently breathes in your scent, “and I’m sorry about the trash my love. Even if I thought you took it out, I really should’ve just. Checked.” Long fingers gently smooth up your neck to gently massage the nape, and he hums as you melt like putty against him.

“Now it’s gonna sit,” you pout. “In the trash outside. And it’s gonna smell. And we’re gonna be the house with smelly ass trash.”

“I know,” he repeats, trying not to laugh at your concerns. “I’ll take care of it princess- and worst case scenario, I’ll write letters apologizing to the neighbors for our rotten trash.”

You snort softly against his collarbone as you continue to nuzzle closer, “I’m sorry I went to Akito to open my jar,” you confess, angling your head up at him. He smirks and leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks lovingly.

“You wanna know a secret?” He asks against your lips.

You hum in intrigue.

“I’m pissed because I tightened them all when you were in the shower, so you’d have to talk to me.”

“SERIOUSLY?”

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elexaria · 3 months

Text

living with ghoap was nice. two big burly fellas to keep you company, to reach the top shelves in the kitchen for you, to absolutely plough you into the mattress when you couldnt itch your own scratch for once. they were good lads.

but there were countless times where they’d be away for work, so you knew you couldnt be fully dependent on them. they knew that too, so they weren’t exactly going to object to you having fun without them. so long as you were happy and safe, they were content.

but fuck, the men out there are absolutely horrible to deal with. sleazy, there’s just… no ability to have any kind of banter with these things that think only with their cocks.

until you meet kilgöre alexander.

he’s gigantic, his shoulders probably share the same width as mount everest’s base. easily, kilgöre is the tallest man you’ve ever been with. he dwarfs simon in size, which is very telling in itself.

it’s hard to pry away at who kilgöre is as a person. he’s austrian, likes keeping himself to himself. absolutely refuses to tell you what he does for a living, because it’s on a need to know basis. “sounds like something a terrorist would say.” you jokingly coo one night at dinner, smirking as he rolls his foggy blue eyes at your comment. “har har, very funny.” he mockingly says, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly.

he’s one of the best things that’s happened to you in a while. he doesn’t know about the particular living arrangement you share with simon and johnny— like he says, it’s on a need to know basis. plus, you haven’t boned either of them since you met this fella. ghoap know what’s up, but they’re not bothered by it. they’re just glad to see you doing well for yourself. “ye have a glow about ye, love.” johnny coos in your ear one day, smirking as he watches you fluster and flounder around the kitchen, trying to make excuses. “it’s the vitamins i’m taking” this and “i’ve quit dairy” that. he knows the truth, simon know its too.

but there’s one thing that makes the attachment to this man absolutely unbearable.

he disappears from time to time.

some days it’s only a couple of days, maybe a couple of weeks at a push. absolutely no contact.

he swears it’s to do with his line of work, that one day he’ll be able to tell you everything. but for now, he asks just for one thing.

“just… wait for me.”

it’s been almost a month with no contact from kilgöre, and it feels like every morning with no text, no nothing, you have a growing pit inside of you that can’t stop gnawing at you, eating you up whole. what the fuck? what could he possibly do for a career that makes it so he goes days without checking his phone? it makes you feel sick to your stomach. what if he’s in a gang or something?

besides, how the fuck can you keep on waiting for someone who you don’t even know is even alive? for all you know, this behemoth of a man has been hog tied and dumped at the bottom of a lake with cinder blocks strapped to his feet. how are you supposed to wait for someone who shows no signs of leaving or coming back?

“that light in yer eyes has dulled.” johnny remarks one evening, a sad smile on his lips. your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion. “huh? oh, yeah. uh… it’s the gluten intolerance i reckon.” you murmur to yourself, flashing a weak smile to consolidate his inquisitive gaze. “i’m fine, though.”

simon huffs as he leers next to you, skilfully flaying pieces of fish with a pensive look. both you and johnny glance at him, which only makes him grunt in response. you furrow your eyebrows at him, urging him to elaborate on what the pressing issue is.

“we reckon shit’s hit the fan with that new bloke of yours.” simon bluntly replies as he wipes off the chopping board with a damp cloth, hands gently scooping up guts, scales and delicate fish bones to dispose of. you scoff, eyes never leaving the cuts of fish meat that rest on a plate, waiting to be delicately battered and fried up.

“whatev—“

“and i know you, you’ll try and refute the truth that i know what’s going on. that we know what’s going on. so, none of this nonsense, alright? what’s up?”

johnny and simon silently watch you, their simultaneous waiting for any reaction from you making your skin crawl. at first, you scowl and huff. shifting your weight from foot to foot as you become defensive. simon cuts you off again, “none of that bollocks. tell the truth.”

you give in. on bated breath, you explain the whole situation. how kilgöre is the kind of man you had never expected to fall for, how he had managed to steal your attention even while being so elusive and secretive. how you desperately want him to come back to you, like he said he would.

johnny frowns, and simon nods in your direction, wiping his blood stained hands with the damp cloth. “fishy hands.” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers to prove he can’t comfort you with a hug. johnny nods, swiftly making his way around the kitchen island to come give you a warm hug. it’s a solid hug, one you’d never object to having. johnny’s large hands rub circles to your back, his bearded chin resting against your shoulder as he sways gently.

simon stands behind johnny, holding eye contact with you as he continued to carefully clean his hands. he raises his eyebrows in thought, before glancing down at his fingernails as he begins to meticulously clean underneath them to rid his skin of all things fish.

“this… kilgöre bloke. i reckon if he’s the one, he’s worth waitin’ for. but don’t think for a second he should get away with leavin’ you this long without so much as a text, yeah? rip ‘im a new one when he comes back.” he advises, glancing back up at you with a slight smirk when he hears you chuckle, your laugh strained with emotion.

he steps closer, carefully tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze better. he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “if he’s the man you think he is, he’ll explain everything if you ask him to. and if he does? great. if he doesn’t?” you wince at the idea, frowning.

he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.

“then he’s a bloody eejit, as our johnny boy would say.”

#elexaria writes #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #poly!ghoap #poly!ghoap x reader #könig #könig x reader

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qvrcll · 1 month

Text

Warnings: mentions of political marriages, strangers > friends > lovers, kissing near towards the end, mentat at mind, lover boy at heart

The ordeal is simple — at-least on paper. You and Paul are meant to be wed on the single promise of a shared goal between the two of your houses, which come down to one thing and one thing only: security. Wealth, power and standing do not surmount to what, in Leto’s words, the Emperor has planned for the futility of house Atreides. He knows, Thufir knows, everyone knows, that Arrakis wasn’t branded to be some sweetly wrapped gift that fell into his lap when the time came to reward the duke. No - matters of this sort were much too systematic, especially at a scale such as this. Something must be done, to solidify the house of Atreides upon the rain-swept expanse of Caladan. Something to bind the Atreides to their mother planet long enough, so there might not be strife or conflict that sharpens whatever blade is held against them. So, wed Paul you must.

Simple doesn’t translate so easily against the obscurity that is the real world.

In the real world, the two of you are mere strangers. The only thing that binds the two of you is the responsibility bourne from the insignias that you wear, that are soon to culminate as two adjoining houses; whilst his happen to be two thick lines of silver against his collar, yours take on a different shape, a strange alterity between curves and striking lines, and shot through with gold against the sleeve of your garments. There is it — the mere tellings of your differences, as pure as day. He wonders how the symbols will look like, meshed together and serving as one. He wonders how he will appear next to you - frail boy or able man?

Half of the time, you catch his eye simply because you are there, sitting duly next to your father and ascertaining the weight of such a marriage past paper, when all is said and done. Other times, you are a blurring fragment in the hallways, swathed in your house’s colours and too fleeting to get a hold on, sometimes even flanked by your house’s livery. Mere strangers, he reminds the indiscernible feeling in his chest.

“Where is your head at? Focus!” Gurney growls out, more harsh tempered than his usual mood, as he crouches and takes Paul’s fair strike for what it was - a clean swipe that was meant for his chest, which now deflects smoothly off of the older, more haggard man’s shield, and sets the room abuzz with vibrations. And so the smell of ozone worsens, Paul calculates in his head, as he shakes his head thoroughly and shifts his grip on his weapon. Gurney isn’t impressed — not in the way he usually is. Paul knows he must answer.

“This is me focusing,” Paul offers, and doesn’t grit his teeth or possess a sudden candour with his strikes because he respects Gurney. But he cannot help the mood that has blanched him - voids, how he wishes he could confess those words, verbatim, to the older man who currently encircles his passes like a seasoned ring-fighter. But the word ‘mood’ had gotten him in line last week, when Gurney had simply upped his antics with the mere mention of it, “I’m just out of breath.”

“No, you’re not.” Gurney smiles, clenching his palm around the ragged hilt of the Kindjal. He knows, Paul thinks bitterly.

“No, I’m not.” Paul confesses. He tests a low swoop of his dagger - ill-advised - and reigns his laugh in when it catches Gurney off his feet, his back staggering against the training table.

Let’s see how you like this, lad, Gurney formalises in his mind, as he presses his defence like a bull and keeps his attacks slow and pulsing through the air, blinding all of Paul’s spots, “Is it the marriage?”

Cornered for tactics, and focusing mostly on not getting cleaved to pieces during training, Paul scoffs, “Of course it’s the marriage.”

“You’re scared.”

At this, Paul counters metal with metal, bounding back when it rings against his ears, rings against the room, “I’m not scared. I’m prepared to fulfil my duty, even if I am given options,” a dull parry, which still creates momentum, and thus space, between the two men, “I’m only uneasy because I’ve never actually met her.”

“You have. Several times. Or have you been asleep throughout your father’s meetings?”

Paul stresses a firm strike against Gurney, which repels off of his own shield by how close the dagger strikes the space between them. But he’s good at catching himself. Gurney, unused to Paul’s strange and newly learnt manoeuvres, falls short. He tries to counter, but cannot, but he is most impressed for it.

“Concede.” Paul breathes, low and attempting a threatening veil, as Gurney’s back meets the floor. The old man grunts, before nodding deftly as Paul hauls him to his feet with one palm alone. They settle in different corners of the room, silence beseeching both of them suddenly - they’re not two men for silence, but in Gurney’s head, Paul is undergoing a strange part of his life. He wonders if Paul fears it in the night.

Paul interjects Gurney’s thoughts.

“Do you - have you… met her?” his voice is meek. Uncharacteristic. Gurney smirks.

“Once or twice, in the hallways.”

“And? How is she?”

Gurney laughs. The boy is eager today.

The next time I see her, I will speak, he promises.

Better said than done. With no similar companions his age - a course of action being the very result of his heritage, his mother reminds him - he truly doesn’t know how to properly seek you out. You are more shadow than friend, more idea than person, and the more he sees you, the more he forgets.

“Something on your mind?” Duncan nudges him with the edge of some Fremen equipment, that bothers him well enough to dredge out Paul’s concerns. Not that he needs to. It is written on his face.

“Yes,” Paul confesses, readjusting for comfort, “It’s about my marriage.”

“You speak as though you will marry tomorrow. It is not set it stone. Not yet.”

Paul scoffs, “I know that. I just haven’t met her yet. And I want to.”

Duncan, in the midst of polishing some hardware and solar devices, that smell quite faintly of hot sand and the sun, pauses to glance away from Paul’s face. When his gaze returns, it is almost teasing, a smirk ripping across his face, “You’re in luck today.”

“What?” Paul swivels and —

Oh. Oh.

You’re standing there. Hands clasped behind your back, yes. Stoic, assessing expression, yes. Clothed in rich colours of your house, as you always are in his passing vision - only this time, it is a green so deep that it comes across as black. Suddenly, realising that you have been found out by not only Duncan Idaho, but by the Duke’s son himself, you uncharacteristically let slip your own embarrassment through wide eyes.

“Oh. My apologies — I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I was just curious by the - er - gadgets.” you fumble for words at a rate that would be comical if not for the morbid embarrassment seizing you by the seconds. You’re shaking your head politely, smile strained and legs rooted where they are and ready to melt into the various corridors - back to your own duties, you assume. Away from company. Paul, however, stands linearly and full of purpose, face constructed of hard lines that all smile at you.

“No, please. Join us,” his voice is smooth - you’ve never heard him talk, even around those board room meetings - and his hand is extended to gesture within the space, “I insist.”

Duncan raises a brow in amusement and Paul wants to tamp his feet down with a neat blow. That pulls a chortle out of the man, which only further startles you. Paul invites you cordially to take a seat, where you fit awkwardly, like you were truly imposing. However, in a manner of minutes, that is all erased when Duncan lets the two of you weigh the objects in your hand – sand compactor, weapons, stinted devices that were far too aged to be still of use but gathering attention nonetheless. When Paul passes it to you, he feels your soft fingers pass underneath his own, where a warm feeling curdles as an afterthought.

“This—is a sand compactor?” you ask warily, tilting the device as though it would spring up on you and dissolve to bits. Duncan barks out a laugh.

“For sand compacting, yes.” he humours you. You, however, are too lost on the object, still swirling it around in your palms; eyes peeled downwards.

“Yes. I see.” you reply.

The two men dissolve into a fit of laughter. You look up, eyes helplessly trailing from one to the next. The day is easy.

Paul is thankful for the event, and so are you. It doesn’t solve all his problems, and his head is always probing with inquiries and worries, but he can count on the off chance of seeing you in the hallways. He can count on the fact that you will pause, meet his eyes and smile.

You’re walking the countless hallways of the estate - Caladan had so much water to offer, but no one on your native planet ever mentioned the striking architecture, the hollowed out walls and think-pieces painted across rooms. High domed ceilings, with absolutely nothing to offer but soft light. Some rooms contained scintillating glass, chairs of different shapes and mediums, tables too big for just a few affairs. Others were bound shut, but that didn’t discourage nor intimidate you, nor your entourage.

On one such day, you’re caught in your explorations by none other than the Atreides heir.

In actuality, it is you who catches him first, stood perfectly still at the end of the corridor and holding a terse expression. When he spots you, his shoulders relax and he manages to blink once, before his mouth opens underneath the realisation that you were really here.

“Hello.” his voice is strong, and carries well.

That was awkward. This is always awkward. He curses himself.

You smile, and it swipes at the ground beneath his feet, “I didn’t expect to see you here.

“This is my residence, yes?” more jest than anything else. You snort.

“I am aware. Your residence is quite beautiful. I like to wander,” you say, finding yourself fixing a meandering pace beside him, and he smiles softly when he realises that he, too, steps beside you at a similar speed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. Never.”

It is quick work after that – by pure coincidence, that you joke to Paul that is it is methodical instincts and ground-work as a mentat that he is able to summon himself almost anywhere you are present from that point onwards, you two bump into each other more and more in the corridors, and from there, it extends to the rather large library, the training space with Gurney skirting its edges, the ever-blossoming gardens even, which held more water than shrubbery in retrospect. Meetings pertaining to your marriage held an element of amusement now, as Paul actually tries to catch your eye this time, drumming his lithe and smooth fingers against the table in a way that could’ve passed off as a wandering of his mind as his father droned on about security measures and fuel caps, but you notice.

You hadn’t, not before, but you did now. To his pleasure, you even respond in a tiny flickering of fingers against the age-old meeting table, the vibrations a blur against his obvious contentment.

“You look glad.” Gurney comments and Paul realises how uninvolved his attention had been on the room before him. He quickly assesses it and whatever lays within it; table, check. Light source, check. Scratchy walls, check. Gurney’s ever-gracing height, check.

When had his habits, trained and chained to duty, begun to sweep towards you?

“Do I?” Paul asks, keeping his voice as still as he can manage. He had swiped at his face to rid the itch off his brow, but he unwittingly catches how warm he is. Not uncomfortable, no. But enough to leave a mark on his consciousness. It was like he was simply losing grip on his own composure when he thought of… something. It was still fleeting in his own mind.

He is too afraid to retrace his steps and find a familiar pair of eyes staring at him in the recesses of it.

Gurney slaps a hand on Paul’s shoulder, seemingly articulate with the latter’s feelings. Old man, Paul would curse out in jest, but he merely smiles. It is strained, and strange. Paul never puts an effort into his smiles, Gurney notes.

“Something is on your mind.” Gurney clicks his tongue.

Paul blinks, swallows, “Something is on my mind.”

“Out with it.”

Paul hesitates, which is strange, because in all his fights he is the first to stoke the flame. He isn’t vengeful – at-least, he doesn’t think he is – that’s why his strikes lack a hunger for blood and instead, settle for calculation. Briefness. No means to an end just yet. Or ever, he thinks.

But with you, it’s different. That’s what he spits out, what he lets Gurney work with. How you were a supposed intrusion into his life – something he had assumed would be awkward, like a stab wound that had scabbed over and began to weakly throb in pain, always to remind itself of its own compromise to work around demise. He thought you would be that; but upon meeting you, you were anything but that. You were curious and brilliant in your own way – similar to him, yet miles apart so that you were the form of a friend he had always wished for in his youth. You talked about your interests and spent double your time inquiring about his. When your hands brushed, his own grew clammy – that’s the strangest one of them all, Gurney – And something was blossoming – was it friendship? Was it trust? Was it fear?

What was this spattering and gooey mess slipping over the swell of his heart whenever you appeared? What was it?

He talks and talks and talks until Gurney squeezes his palm over Paul’s shoulder in a way an uncle would do to his nephew who he might want to reassure. Or a brother would to his youngest companion, as if to say: I see you. I hear what you say.

“Sounds to me like there’s an awful lot of trust between the two of you,” Gurney clicks his tongue again, only this time, Paul scoffs. Ah, there he is – there is the Paul Atreides I know, Gurney smiles, “And something else too.”

“What is it?” Paul asks. His eyes are curious, brows furrowed. Gurney holds down the laugh building in his chest, and the emboldened words in red: you’re falling in love with this friend of yours, boy, and instead, pats him on the shoulder.

“Piece of advice, if you’ll heed to anything I say,” Paul straightens with attention, “Let the truth flow. Do not stop it. Do not push it back. To live with the truth, you must learn its ways and be one with it.”

That night, Paul walks back to his room with the truth beneath his skin, and listens to his own heartbeat against his pillow. The rest of him warms with the realisation of, oh, oh, oh.

The next time you see Paul, you think you’d done something to offend him. Or bore him. Or something other.

It had become a pleasant habit; meeting him at the Caladan gardens, opting for a spot and sitting with your backs to the grass, counting the stars as you talked. Before, conversation had tipped forth whenever. Now, there was something in the air – tension. And it is him that brings it.

Paul avoids your eyes, settling instead for the vast colouring of grey across the hallway walls whenever he caught you in it. He had stopped sending you the familiar drumming of his fingertips across the meeting table, and instead always froze up when you met his gaze, whereby he turned red with anger – or was it anger? What was it?

He’d always be staring at your face, and you would wonder if there was a piece of parchment stuck to it, or if he was merely bored around you; most days, you allowed it. It stung, yes, but you had nothing ill to hold against him. But it accumulated, unbeknownst to you, and for him to miss your question yet again made you sigh in defeat – disappointment?

“You seem distracted,” you say, not bothering to shield the hurt in your words, though you couldn’t begin to understand why and when you had ever begun to crave expect the attention of his earthen-dusted eyes, “Am I boring you?”

He straightens up, his eyes wide, which in turn surprises you, “Bored? Seven hells, no. ‘Course not.”

“What did I just ask then?”

He cringes, “I promise I’m not bored. Just…”

His fingers flex in his lap, before curling into themselves, and his cheeks warm slightly. Is it happening now? Is he doing it now? The weather was right; a typical Caladan breeze, heavy with the wetting of the sky from the day, and now shrouded with clouds and a darkness that was impenetrable. Even as the two of you laid against the bare grass, no one outside could tell either of you apart from the ground itself. In the moonlight, you were almost one with it.

“Just?” you ask. You were curious of this now, “Just what?”

“Just!” he sucks in a harsh breath, his sharp face now boyishly soft and pliant in a way you hadn’t seen it before, “I… Just promise you won’t take offence to this.”

How ironic.

“I promise, Paul,” you smile, shoulder bumping against his as you glance at the side of his face, the way his nose shapes perfectly against the dampness of the Calandan wind, “Tell me.”

Be one with it. Be one with it. It is a mantra in his head.

“I realise that I have begun to grow a certain, uh, affection for you. Yes, I like you. I don’t know how it had begun. And I know it’s foolish of me to even act this way when we are set to marry. But I know, in my heart, that—“ a breath, as he nervously glances at your now surprised face and oh, he shuts his mouth. He opens it again, panicked, “My apologies. I shouldn’t have—let me—”

“Paul.” you stop him, hands against his one arm that seems to be quivering ever so slightly – how much of it can he hold?

He waits. Bated breath.

You smile, shy and sweet and it whips against him in a way that the wind of his mother planet had never managed to. Here is my dear friend, he thinks, my dear friend who was but a stranger a long time ago and is set to marry me once talks have been concluded. Here is my friend who I have poured my stupid, ill heart to and who still looks at me with kindness.

“I like you too.”

He blinks. He looks at you when you speak and watches, really watches, how your mouth forms against the words. I like you too.

“As a companion? Or friend, at best? Is that what your ‘like’ refers to?” he asks, nervous in the face of your admission. It makes you smile, as he rambles slightly, and though his countenance is that of poise and grace, beneath he is a a boy of tender heart. Smiling, you grab the front of his thick coat lapel and watch his words die on his tongue as you place a feathery, warm and soft kiss against his mouth. It was so unbelievable, he thought he’d conjured it all up – that you weren’t here, timidly kissing him with a sheepish smile on your face, and the stars of his home glinting against your skin. He lets his finger brush your cheek, still dumb-struck.

“Again.” he whispers. His heart hammers at the sound of your breathy laugh, as you repeat the action, conviction in your palms as they lay upon his cheek, “Again, please.”

“Again?” you ask, voice soft and muted as he hoists you atop of his front, chest to chest, and gazing at him like he was everything. Within the action, your golden insignia brushes his own, silver ones so briefly that he can make out a shape bourne from the contact of either two, before they separate. You wanted him, as he wanted you. And soon, you would wed, and the image of gold upon silver won’t be so unclear anymore. Maybe, somewhere warmer and less unbelievable, he could let himself grow familiar with the reality of you. But for now, he could settle for this to be a mere dream he had grown to relish so very much. Even now, he could almost believe none of this to be real, just a trick of the mind. Maybe fatigue or delusion.

He says your name so quietly, a plea, and it has never sounded sweeter, “Please.”

And yet, the soft press of your mouth upon his convinces him that it is so much more.

i wanted to incorporate some inferences of paul’s character from the early novel (mentat, solitude in terms of companions, great fighter), as well as the film, whilst wanting to stray away from the destruction of house atreides after the gifting of arrakis, which would explain why the marriage needs to take place. sooo no one dies! HURRAH!!!!!!!!! enjoy :]

#paul x you #dune paul x you #paul atreides fic #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x y/n #dune x you #dune x reader #dune part two x reader

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empress-simps · 2 months

Text

Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.

#sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #soulmate au #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter #angst with a happy ending #sirius orion black #regulus black

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