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#i could talk about fashion ALL DAY LONG
snoozu · 16 days
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IMGONHSTHROWUPpt1iguess
#folks shall we talk about snoozus situationship?#lets talk about mo snoozu’s situationship#looonnggg ago way back in the summer. my dnd group met for maybe the third or fourth time before all the Boys went home#n our friends do a thing called ‘proper goodbyes’ where if someone is leaving it must be announced to the group or the host or whoever.#usually hugs are involved bc Friendship <3#ANYWAY.#on this night i gave a hug to. okay i need a code name#Raven boy. sure#and i was a good hug okay. so i said! man! you give the best hugs ! haha thank u laughs blah blah blah#everyone leaves#my ROOMMATE. and COUSIN . randomly throws out ‘i think you and him should date’ like right before we go to bed and im just like ‘huh???’#and they just go nothing goodnight! like okay.#fast forward? two months? him and i are very silly together. we joke around a lot and a LOT of the time end up saying the same thing at the#same time. its fun whatever. at this point for me its like yeah i could see it but im Me so i cant really do anything about it#bc i don’t Know know. yknow?#halloween night me n the roomies go to dinner all dressed up and i start complaining about dating apps and the people on there. i say sm a#along the lines of ‘why can’t i just meet someone the old fashioned way. where we’re friends for so long we just realize one day that we#be married.’ tO WHICH COUSIN ROOMIE ONCE AGAIN SAYS. I THINK YOU SHOULD DATE RAVEN BOY#so i go! 😳😳😳 whaaaaaaat….. and shes like ‘you guys are silly together!!’ and lm like okay great well now i get to panic about this dynamic#we actually start texting a lot thru november. and one day im talking about school to him and how its stressing me out#and hes like. i like to go on walks or hikes when im stressed. if you want i could show you my favorite spot#and then IM PANICKING. so AT FIRST im like noway abort abort abort haha actually i really need to finish my assignments :(#and then i think about it. and im like. why not tho. so then i text him back actually yeah lets go. and we go on a hike and its awesome and#fun and beautiful and we just talked. and then he takes me home and is like can i use ur bathroom real quick and im like sure but im NERVOUS#bc my roommates are clearly home and they’re going tonsee him and KNOW#and thats EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS. so they’re all oohooohoo you wanna talk about it and im like no!!!!! shut up!!! leave me alone !!!!!#anWAY. more talking. over thanksgiving break. not much over christmas break bc it was kinda a Moment for me. so dec-#*dec-jan we’re both kinda radio silence a little bit. and im like. probably wasnt a thing then. whatever we’re still good friends#and then. reader. we’re still good friends. absolutely charmingly good friends.#i started my own campaign in january and before the first session another one of the Boys needed a ride to and from an interview so i gave
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pivsketch · 2 years
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way back like last year i saw a big oc spaghetti relationship chart and was inspired to make my own. basically the only thing of mine large enough to accommodate such an endeavor is cliffside. 75% of the way through i realized i shouldve made this in a flowchart maker or something so i could organize it better. oh well, its got the important beats. im pretty sure ive drawn at least one picture of everyone here in the last decade or so (sans randy and marco, who only exist in Words)
cliffside! the aimless little soap opera in my head that i chip away at when im bored
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deadsetobsessions · 2 months
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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1
[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]
To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.
A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.
And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.
Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.
Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.
He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.
Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.
Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.
Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.
He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.
“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.
With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.
“You okay, kid?”
The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.
“Huh.”
The kid flinched.
“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”
Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.
“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”
“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”
Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.
“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”
“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”
“I also don’t hurt kids.”
“…”
The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.
“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”
“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.
“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”
“…”
Danny waited.
“Peters.”
“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.
“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”
“All of it.”
Peters stared.
Danny shrugged and started looting.
"Y'er so fuckin' weird."
----
See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.
Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.
Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.
Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.
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screampied · 2 months
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could you please please pleaseeee do a fic where instead of the gojo winning, hes way too needy and the reader wins while fight fucking in missionary like your previous fic….my ego took a hit with that one 🙏🏽
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❤︎ ໋𓈒 making gojo eat his words and he becomes a whiney embarrassed mess + first part
warnings. fem! reader, missionary, cowgirl, whiney gojo, overstim, praise, dirty talk, mdni.
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“still…won’t shut up, huh. figures,” he grumbles, sliding a hand down your tummy to drag out a whine from you. he was reaching you deep—your legs dangled and jerked from each thrust he’s presenting you. you put a hand in his face as an attempt to shut him up but he grabs it with quick reflexes, chuckling before playful long nibbling on your finger. “don’t try to shut me up. that’s rude.”
you let off a moan, his thickness forever buried into you and it nearly took your breath away. you glare before grumbling a, “you shut up. don’t tell me what to do.”
“i just did,” he whispers, his hips thwack and thwack against you to where your ears ring, lips parting slightly and he leans up close to your ear before slowly sucking on your finger. “i can do this alllll day, princess. you’re just gonna tire yourself o—”
he halts, his breath getting abruptly caught in his throat before you feel gojo twitch, and he lets off a whine before you feel him start to pour a few ropes of cum inside of you. you feel warm, and he completely forgets what he’s about to say.
“you were saying?” you raise your brows, and he’s taken aback once you make your way on top of him, and gojo’s back thrashes against the pillow.
“got some nerve…pinning me down,” he pants, staring at you. you observe his body, droplets of sweat racing down his v-line. gojo’s swollen cock remained deep inside you as you sat upright, playfully creating a few grind movements with your hips. “f-fuck, just ‘cause ‘m sensitive doesn’t mean you won.”
you lean up close to gojo, kissing near the corner of his glossed lips before grinning — slowly and teasingly spreading his arms apart.
he moans from the simplicity of your touch before you whisper, “yes it does. you just don’t wanna admit,” and then you realign yourself, staring down at a panting, out of breath, ruffled hair gojo before simpering. “i know how to make you admit it though.”
“hmpf. how.” he grumbles, contorting his eyebrows before hesitatingly, he brings a hand towards your waist. the smallest pout spreads against his lips before he gawks into your eyes, and oh how flustered he was.
“remember what you told me last time?” you giggle, sneaking a kiss near his chin. “don’t worry about it.”
gojo groans from your soft lips making contact against his skin each time. you drove him crazy, however…
the very moment you started to move your hips against him, riding him he completely loses it. more and more breaths get caught in his throat, and he gives your left hip a tight squeeze and his head throws back. “r-riding me after i cum, fuckin’ brat. you’re so—”
you roll your eyes, leaning in to silence your boyfriend with a kiss. gojo’s muffled moans slither its way into your mouth, and he’s stuck in a ecstasy filled trance the sheer second your pussy grips down against him so firmly.
he was still heavily sensitive, such deep rushes getting to him. you ran your tongue against his in a smooth fashion before you feel gojo whine, sucking against your tongue and he doesn’t even realize it. he trails a hand from your waist to your ass, greeting it with a mean smack to make you moan into his mouth.
still some sorts of brat in him, he found his own eyes starting to roll back into the very depths. he’s chasing his breath as if it was some sort of race, some sort of competition.
he couldn’t get enough of your syrupy sweet taste, gliding his tongue against your upper lip, then your tongue — even the corner of your mouth. whenever gojo was like this, straight after cumming his brains out, by all means was he a messy kisser. momentarily, you pull away and slow your hips down.
“why are you—why are you stopping?” he stammers, and he genuinely sounds needy. no attitude in sight. your cunt was stuffed with a few ropes of his cum, and you felt the mess it created.
his dick twitched inside you from each time you moved against him. “you want me to finish? just admit it, baby.”
“…god, i hate you,” he whines, his bottom lip quavering. the sting, the sugared sting of overstim made him swallow his pride for a brief moment before he huffs out a breath. gojo gives you a glare before lowly sighing. “…finish fucking me.”
“sorry?”
“finish… fucking me.” he mumbles, darting his eyes away.
“can’t understand you when you mumble,” you jokingly tease, bringing a hand down to touch yourself…just a little more teasing. gojo’s eyebrows press in together and seeing him pout out of frustration was the cutest thing. seeing him not get his way.
ironically enough, it’s his turn. after all the teasing he’s put you through.
gojo moans, starting to impatiently bounce his thigh and you intake a sharp breath from feeling him pump his way inside of you just enough for you to feel. “fuck me, f-fuck me. just hurry up. finish riding me,” and then his cerulean blue eyes reach contact towards you — following with a cunning grin. “if you can handle m—”
“you’re such a brat,” you roll your eyes, instantly making him eat his words once you start to roll your hips against him. gojo’s eyes glaze over before he bites his lip to suppress his pathetic whimpers. “but a good boy.”
“……”
he grows dead quiet, soundless before he lets off a moan once you inch closer towards his neck. peppering a soft kiss near the inner part. “can you…can you say that again?”
“say what?” you hum in a soft voice, gingerly wriggling your hips against him, you study his expressions and his jaw tightens. “brat?”
“f-fuck, no, baby the other thing.” he pants, and you giggle — slowing catching on. oh. you always forgot how gojo loved whenever you praised him. it made him feel a feeling he doesn’t even know how to explain.
you softly reply, “good boy. that’s what you wanna hear?”
“y-yeah, yeah,” he swallows, and you continued to grip and clamp down his hefty cock. the weight of his base slams back and forth against you to where he purposely grows silent just to hear the filthy noises your cunt makes. “you—you win, i don’t care anymore jus— keep, keep fucking me, please.”
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angelltheninth · 7 months
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Lovesick Jujutsu Kaisen Characters
Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Gojo, Nanami, Geto x Reader
Tags: fluff, kissing, dating, pining, confessions, teasing, gift giving, shopping, quality time, protectiveness, clothes sharing, possessiveness
A/N: I'm really excited for this arc! I heard it's awesome!
Lovesick!Yuuji is the cutest guy he could be. He's all big smiles, falling over his words, acting big and protective and at the same time so soft when you thank him or compliment him. He takes you on a date and doesn't even know it until you kiss him. If he could shout out his happiness he would, he wants everyone to know you're dating. By the next day most of his friends do.
Lovesick!Sukuna would never act in such a way if it's obvious. He will get the scary kind of lovesick, hovering over your shoulder, scaring away everyone else, leaving bites on your skin with beaming pride. There's no way that he would be in love with someone and not mark them as his, it doesn't matter if you know about his feelings, in his mind you're already his.
Lovesick!Megumi pines from a distance, looking at you with puppydog eyes for a good long while before making a very calculated confession. There's no room for error... so of course things go wrong. You don't mind as long you're having a good time with him, and he should really learn to loosen up. Maybe now he finally can, now that he's no longer hiding his feelings for you.
Lovesick!Nobara takes you shopping for clothes just like always. Almost like always. This time she keeps going on and on about how cute you'd look in matching clothes. You definitely have to buy matching shirts, those really big ones. Now that you're a couple she wants to show it in so many ways, and fashion is one of them.
Lovesick!Maki wants to be with you all the time, look at you, hug you, kiss you. So much of practice is spent with her flirting with you, complimenting you and saying what a good team you make. Outside of training she invites you to get food, but then you take it to go and eat it over at hers. Of course you can spend the night too, feel free to take some of her clothes to sleep in. She never lends her clothes to anyone but it looks too good on you for her to say no.
Lovesick!Gojo talks your ear off with compliments. And teasing there is a whole lot of that once he notices how you react to his words. His heart grows a hundred sizes when he makes you blush, it's too good, he has to make it happen as much as possible. It makes him so happy. Except one of his attempts end in your confession. He was hoping for that, now he doesn't have to pretend it's just teasing anymore, and he can kiss you every time he sees you.
Lovesick!Nanami buys you a lot of gifts. He doesn't talk to people unless he really likes them, or pays attention to them, let alone brings gifts to them. At first you think he's messing with you but then you see him smile when you accept his gift. Damn, he's being serious here isn't he? Next time you bring him a gift too and let him know you want to date.
Lovesick!Geto thinks it can't happen to him, that he makes other lovesick and he doesn't even know it's happening. He gradually begins to get more protective, looking forward to seeing your face, spending time with you. Kissing his cheek made his heart flutter... oh... oh no... he's falling for you! No, he's already fallen. In that case there's no turning back, he has to see where this goes and make you fall just as hard, no even harder.
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bfbkg · 7 months
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all I can think about is Viking!Bakugo, his family sets up an arranged marriage but he hates the idea, he prefers to be chief of his own village with no support and be able to do it all alone to prove his family wrong. As soon as his fiancé turns up, he sees you and all thoughts leave his head as he sees how pretty you are and how all eyes are drawn to you as they all thinking the same thing. He notes how standoffish you are and how you look like a born leader from the way you stare back at his villagers. He immediately falls for you and tries to court you in his own ways, giving you the best pelts, catching the biggest food and weaving bracelets with the brightest colours. 🫡🫡🫡🫠🫠🫠🫠
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WAITING FOR YOU [10.5K]
— viking!bakugou katsuki x reader
SYNOPSIS: your new fiancé is ruthless, rude and stupidly gorgeous. after being forced into an engagement with him to keep peace between your villages, you need to find some way to get along or at least come to an understanding. it happens quicker than you think once you catch him bathing in his private lake.
WARNINGS: minors dni, 18+ scenes, female reader, princess/honey pet names, chief’s daughter, arranged marriage, fiancés, enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, handjob, fingering (f), face sitting (f), very very very light ass play, outdoors but private, yn has hair long enough to be in a bun.
NOTES: i think it is very funny that when i started answering this ask i apologised that i really enjoy this idea but i don’t think i would be able to bring it to life. 10000 words later and i think something is alive and kicking lmao thank u for sending this to me and i even did a little viking research for certain words but certainly do not take this as gospel lol defo viking old fashioned violent cottagecore aspects with modern day dialogue. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys because i spent a lot of time on this! i am realising all my au!bkg fics are all very long because so much more background is required before we get into the smut lol ANYWAY yeah thank u user titantears!
FOR YOU MASTERLIST! - yes there are more parts
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bakugou katsuki is the chief of his village, the leader of his army and your new fiancé. 
you’ve heard everyone talk about how what’s his is yours and yours is his. that’s what marriage is, two people coming together in unity but your marriage with this brute beast of a man feels anything but that. nothing is yours. you’ve moved to his village, living in his home, eating his food and adapting to his way of life. you can’t even say he is yours, in fact you wouldn’t be surprised to find out he hates you since he does everything to prove he does but say the words. at least you’ve got a beautiful shiny ring on your finger that you spend more time admiring than really understanding what it means. you’re tied to this stranger forever.
one thing you and the great bakugou katsuki have in common is that you’re both forced to marry each other. an arranged marriage between two wealthy chiefs of their villages. this chief in question is bakugou’s father although he is rarely seen around these days due to old age and bakugou stepping up in his place. your marriage arrangement is just a pact so both villages don’t invade the other and giving your life to this man makes it all worth it for the survival of your people.
you have seperate bedrooms and you have to see him for breakfast and dinner, his only term and condition. he’s somewhat civil when you eat, but all too soon conversations become snappy, leaving you to storm off and him clanging his utensils against his plate.
“so… what are your plans today?”
“nothing.”
bakugou grunts before silence takes over the room.
he tries again, “nothing at all?”
“there’s nothing here for me to do. why do you care?”
“you talk like your heads up your ass,” he snarls.
you fake a gasp, “just like you then?”
the most tender moment you could place so far was when you had to stand beside him when you were announced his fiancé to his people. the warrior that is often described as ruthless could barely look you in the eye, which shocked you to no end, though when he whispered softly, “i’m gonna hold your hand. is that okay?”
it’s like you were doused with a warm blanket after a cold day. you locked eyes with him for a second before whispering, “yes.” his people won’t stop talking about this moment, or how it came across to them.
though that moment is long forgotten the next day when you land the last word in another bicker with bakugou in front of his whole army. you know you shouldn’t have been out here but the best thing about your new fiancé was that he was easy on the eyes. so easy that if you didn’t have one of his servants poking you to get changed or to eat up or to do something, you’d be drooling all over yourself just watching him. this led to you sitting and watching him be a dickhead to his army, shouting at them to work harder, be faster, and to, if it was even possible, be more violent. his vulgarity should make it easier to snap your gaze away from him when he turns to face you though it doesn’t.
he’s dressed in tight black cloths, chunky silver jewellery around his neck and always, your pupils drift to the silver band around his finger. the item that connects you both together. he’s dressed casually compared to his warriors who are coated in layers of chest and leg armour. you know it’s another way to prove he’s better than them all, that whilst training them he doesn’t need it. though a sharp curved axe that is heavy to look at hangs by his waist as a threat. he doesn’t scare you though, especially with how attractive you find the hoop piercings littering his ears and the expensive stolen bracelets across his arms.
he bites at you, face like a sour lemon, “why the fuck are you out here? isn’t there somethin’ you can be doin’ indoors?”
“what is with you and telling me to do something? can’t i just watch you work?”
“it’s not interestin’ and it’s unsafe for you,” he’s annoyed, barking an order at one of his warriors right after.
you think the only thing that’s unsafe is the way he makes you feel when he gets too close, you know your skin is too hot to touch. you notice his warriors staring at him, confused at how he is yet to raise his voice at you and how you’re so okay with being beside him.
“how is it unsafe being around the people who’re supposed to keep our village safe, fiancé?” you taunt and he narrows his eyes at you.
bakugou bends his back to whisper in your ear, lips almost brushing your skin. “my men work so hard they barely see women, let alone ones as beautiful as you. you bein’ here is addin’ an extra distraction and job on my list.”
your breath hitches at the compliment, whispering, “distraction for them or you?”
bakugou doesn’t want to admit it yet he’s rising to his full height and ignoring the smell of baked goods that linger off your clothes. “both. now fuck off.”
“you need to learn some people skills if you want to have a wife, bakugou. you’re acting like a prick.”
bakugou rolls his eyes dramatically, tired of this conversation with you. his soldiers are watching the interaction intensely. they’ve never seen bakugou act anything but strict and merciless, usually solving his problems with violence. they definitely haven’t seen him blush in annoyance from a woman. 
“i’ve never heard that one before, good job. now remove yourself before i do it myself.”
you bite your tongue, deciding to give up with this one though you can’t help but wonder how it must feel to get manhandled and thrown over his shoulder.
“you won’t see me at dinner,” you shout over at him, walking away.
“i definitely will, princess.”
he did end up seeing you, dragging you from your room over his shoulder and plopping you in the dining room.
occasionally, you catch him watching you and he doesn’t look away. his fiery eyes are steady on your body with a frown you can’t translate. you’d be brushing your hands through the flowers landscaped across his home while he sits with the other higher members of his army. he scrunches his nose, his head resting in his palm. he’s gorgeous with his wheat blonde locks and scar through his eyebrow. his bicep is the size of your head and you’re perfectly aware of how easy it would be for him to pick you up and throw you around. bakugou doesn’t turn away when you frown back at him, only when one of his excited army members prods a finger at a map does his attention shift before a bubble of laughter floods from them. you think your fiancé is the butt of the joke from the way his red spreads all across his neck.
your new relationship is rocky, filled with tension and pure impatience. 
at least you’re lucky your family chose a handsome fiancé for you. you watch from afar when thick mighty legs and ass step into the bakugou private lake to bathe. his strong shoulders with more muscles than you thought were possible on a human. bakugou is all wide shoulders and tiny waist, scars and slashes littering the expanse of his back and if you voiced how attractive you found a back you’re sure you would be locked up. you’re surprised to see him without his bracelets or necklaces, the only jewellery still on being his ring and earrings.
the weeds and grass that surround the lake dwarf you whenever you bathe, always drooping into your eyes and covering you intimidatingly. yet with him, they stretch tall, pointing to the sun so there’s enough space for him to dunk his head in the water. nature isn’t overwhelmingly large beside him, in fact with all the roughness that is bakugou katsuki, the water and greenery cares for him like a lover would.
his blonde hair curls at the tips with the water, dusting to a darker blonde, matching the deep shades of green. his arm rises to scrape it all off his forehead. the lake glazes his body like a shield and you don’t miss how he lightly pinches a lily stem between his fingers to bring to his nose. he hasn’t even turned around yet and the sight of his back, scrubbing himself clean… you don’t think you’ve ever been attracted to someone so much. not even your father’s old scribe was this attractive and he was the most attractive in your village.
you’re careful to be silent and you’re well aware of how perverted this could turn out. you swear you were just on a walk around his land and now you’re distracted by your fiancé cleaning his body in the lake. he’s completely naked, dripping with water. the dirt that marked his skin is washed away, leaving him golden and shiny in the sunlight. you don’t know what you want a peek of more his chest or his—
“who’s there?”
bakugou turns in your direction in a flash. fuck. you curse the skies because you know you didn’t make a sound. his hearing is immaculate and so are his senses. you debate whether to reveal yourself or if he’ll just leave it. actually, you know he won’t leave it.
“i know someone’s there. reveal yourself or i’ll kill you without question.”
you sigh, flinging your head back and looking to the clear skies. for fucks sake.
you stand tall, faux confident because his ruby jewel red eyes are looking at you and paired with a grumpy violent frown, it has you feeling lightheaded for all the wrong reasons.
he’s stepped to the shallower end of the lake now, his bare chest in view and finally, his face. he’s so gorgeous. tanned skin, rolls of abs. facial features all in the right places yet with a masculine charm that has you humming. you wonder if he realises.
you step out from behind the tree, chin high. “i was coming to bathe but you’re already here. i’ll come back later.”
you’re lying through your teeth but bakugou can’t catch it, focusing on stopping the flush of red up his neck. now the thought of you naked in the lake beside him is filling his head and he’s rubbing his hand against his forehead roughly.
your eyes study his bicep, then the thick scar under his right pectoral and your body flushes with heat when you think he caught you.
“you didn’t bring any cloth to dry yourself?” he asks, voice deep and troubled.
your eyes widen in alarm, that’s true. stupid lie. “i usually… air dry. stand out in the grass.”
now it’s bakugou’s turn to be surprised, “hah?” he can’t help it. “what if someone sees you?”
you blink, “everybody would know i’m off to bathe. only my maid would be around to watch out. well back home anyway.” that’s true.
bakugou grunts. he needs to get that same routine for you here. “i’ll get out ‘n’ you can bathe. i’ll sit out and watch for you.”
“w-what?” you splutter.
he cannot be here while you bathe and what did you say… air dry? fuck fuck fuck.
“i’m gettin’ out. i was done anyway,”
water ripples around his body as he moves, strong limbs controlling the water. he walks closer to you, the clear lake water inching lower and lower down his hips. you can see the brush of hair leading to his—
you spin around in a rush, “bakugou! oh heavens.”
your chest is heaving, your fingers to your lips. you still hear him moving behind you, bare feet against the grass. his fluffy cloth against his skin.
“i’m hurryin’ up for you. don’t want you complainin’ back to daddy that i don’t let you live your life of luxury,” he remarks and you’re about to spin around to curse him out but you don’t want to get a glimpse of his cock. that’s a lie. you really do but you don’t want him to know that.
“i don’t complain to my father!” you shout, completely flustered, “and i can just come back later.”
“you can turn around. i’m covered,”
you do turn, slowly and now he’s the one lying. he’s only half covered, cloth at his waist covering his chunky thighs and that. just by the indent from the cloth, you know it’s large. still, his shoulders and chest and arms are out. they’re a killer.
you force your eyes to meet his. his jaw is strong, arms crossed against his chest and he speaks his next words like they’re scraping painfully across his throat.
“undress then. i’ll keep watch out for you.”
no, no, no. no.
“you don’t need to do that. i’ll just come back later.”
bakugou shakes his head like his word is law. “you still need someone to look out for you like you had back home. i’m doin’ it.”
“don’t you have army stuff to do? you don’t need to stay!”
he ignores your question completely, “nobody else is here to watch you.”
you blink at him. you’ve never thought about someone seeing you the other days you’ve showered here. it’s not something you’ve cared about since not many people on bakugou’s grounds have access to this lake and if they heard someone here they know to walk away. apart from you apparently. but you can’t go back on what you’ve started now.
“do you not want me to see you naked?” his eyes skim your body and your next breath is weaker. then he quirks a brow that makes you mimic his crossed arms, “y’know i’m gonna have to one day.”
“yes i know that. we aren’t getting married today though, are we?”
bakugou has only ever felt this weird, uncomfortable, childlike embarrassment, stupidly horny, oddly at home mixture when he’s by you.
you’re both looking at each other, though you don’t know each other well enough yet to decipher the emotions in your eyes.
truthfully, you don’t mind him seeing you naked. you have a nagging feeling at the back of your head admitting that you want him to. you want him to like what he sees and feel the undeniable urge you’re feeling about him right now. to touch, kiss and lick the fresh lake water off his skin.
you begin to unlace the front of your cardigan, dropping it to the ground. then you’re kicking off your shoes and your finger is hooked in the strap of your thin dress.
“wait, you’re undressing now? let me turn around or somethin’ woman!” he grumbles,, stepping around you and facing towards his home.
your laugh feels like butterfly wings against his skin, light and melodic and he thinks it’s the first time it’s for him. “i thought you said you’re going to have to see me naked?”
“y-yeah but i didn’t mean…”
you pull your dress down over your breasts and ass, watching it fall gracefully to the ground. next is your underwear and you’re completely naked before your fiancé. though he’s got his beautifully toned back turned away.
“so what did you mean?”
bakugou’s whole face is flushed pink, the tips of his ears red. he wipes his large hand across his face, grateful you can’t see him from the front. “i just meant i will in the future. that’s it.”
you dip your toes in the lake water. it’s sun toasted. warm between your toes. you hum to yourself at the feeling.
it’s silly where your trust for this man comes from. you’ve barely spoken these past few weeks minus snappy remarks and quick-tempered conversations. though you know he wouldn’t turn around for a peek at you so you take your time submerging yourself in the water. you scoop all your hair to sit on your head, re-wrapping it in a silk strip of cloth.
“so i think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had without arguing. if it could be called one,” you try and you notice his head twitch at the sound of his voice.
“i wonder why.”
“what?”
“you sit with me at breakfast for a full three minutes, pushing the food around your plate before runnin’ off like i smell like horse shit.”
“oh,” you pause, biting down on your lip, “you don’t smell like horse shit.”
“yeah, princess. i know i don’t.”
you’re not a princess, you’re a chief’s daughter so you have no clue why he always calls you that. you do enjoy the name though you despise it when it’s used mockingly by him. which it is. often.
 you sigh, “i am not the biggest fan of your breakfast and in the morning i usually run off to pick something up from the bakery.”
“what? how come nobody told me?”
you shrug even though he can’t see you, “nobody comes with me. i sneak out the back.”
you’re not sure why you admit it but you guess it’s that weird trust you have in him. 
“well, we’ll change it then. i can’t have you sneakin’ off just to fuckin’ eat breakfast.”
he doesn’t make it sound like it’s a chore or you’re being childish or stupid. he says he’ll fix it. your chest blooms with warm fervency. you push it away.
“since we’re here i also think your horse hates me. every time i try to stroke him he grunts and growls at me. kinda like you. so that’s why i stay away from you outside.”
this time bakugou laughs. this is the first time you think you’ve ever heard it and the smile naturally flows onto your face too. it’s oddly boyish compared to his body which is nothing but man.
“daisy hates everyone but me. just feed her and she’ll be fine. i’ll give you some food for her next time. she’ll fall in love with you.”
the same question is on the tip of your tongue. how do i make you fall in love with me? because that’s what happens in normal marriages right? not because you, for some reason, want this man’s affection.
“and what’s the excuse for your attitude?”
“i’ve only got attitude because you do,” you accuse.
“really?” he bends to sit down, leaning back on his arms and stretching out his legs in the grass. he’s still got his fluffy cloth around his waist. “that’s why you’re snappy at me before i even talk?”
“i’m just… bored and erm…,” you sigh and it feels relieving, admitting the thoughts plaguing your mind about your new life, “there’s nothing to do around here and i don’t know anybody.”
“i’ve got a library,” he blurts, head turning to the left but he’s unable to see you behind him at that angle, “and we can… i guess you can come drink with me and my friends and their wives. they’re alright.”
“really?” you’re shocked at the prospect. bakugou inviting you to be with him in his free time?
“yeah. you’re gonna meet them anyway and the library you get into with a key. i’ll get my blacksmith to make one for you.”
you brush your hand through the lake water, fixating on the ripples it creates. you weren’t expecting any of this today. who knew your fiancé was willing to compromise? you don’t know how exactly to say thank you, you’re not even sure if you should yet since nothing has come to fruition.
“i don’t mind you turning around. this all just caught me off guard.”
you can tell by his back that he tenses up, muscles tight and bunched. he scrambles to his feet, adjusting the cloth around his waist with his head looking down at himself.
there’s a tight pause in the air minus the soft tweets of birds. “are you in the water?”
“yes.”
“completely?”
you laugh again and bakugou doesn’t mean to flutter his eyes shut. “yes bakugou.”
“soon you’ll be a bakugou. my name’s katsuki.”
“yes katsuki, i am completely in the water sans my head and shoulders. i need it to talk.”
there’s a grumble, one you can’t make the words out of. he shuffles on the spot but still doesn’t turn.
“so are you going to?”
“no.”
“why not?” you frown, watching the six foot five body before you, “what happened to you’ll see me naked anyway?”
“i’m keeping watch.”
you feel a streak of stubbornness gush through your veins. maybe it’s the lack of attention you’ve gotten since being dubbed bakugou’s fiancé or the growing need blooming in your lower half. maybe it’s these odd mixed signals you’re getting from your lover to be.
“katsuki, turn around and look at me.”
“i fuckin’ said i can’t.”
“nobody is going to come and see me, i bathe out here alone all the time!”
“yn, i said i can’t.”
he doesn’t raise his voice the way you see him do with his army. he doesn’t even say it angrily with clenched fists the way you see him get when his army isnt getting things right. he says it steady yet almost shameful, a whine twinged at the end. it sounds like he wants to but something’s stopping him.
your brain doesn’t connect to the rest of your body when your legs begin to move. towards the lake’s edge with your toes raking through the grass.
bakugou’s head twitches, “the fuck are you doin’?”
your wet hand lands on his arm and he tenses again.
“yn, you… fuck,” he dips his head down.
“what’s wrong?”
he doesn’t tell you, instead he shows you and… holy fuck is it hard to miss.
bakugou katsuki turns around to face you and your first surprise is the way he keeps his eyes directly on yours, not your dripping wet body in the golden evening glow. he’s got a pained frown, pulled eyebrows and baby pink cheeks.  his jaw is clenched so hard that you’re sure it must ache.
your second surprise is the growing bulge under his white fluffy cloth. the thick, long, massive bulge that you think, if your calculations are correct, has to be about eight inches? holy fuck, how will that fit inside you?
“oh my—,”
bakugou looks up to the sky with a loud exhale, “fuck, i’m sorry—,” he’s not sure the last time he’s ever apologised to someone. let alone for being hard.
“w-why? since when?”
bakugou huffs an uncomfortable laugh, rubbing his eyes.
“i could hear you being naked behind me and the fuck do you mean why? d’you know how hard it is to not look at you right now?”
you bite down on your lip, looking down at yourself and remembering oh yeah… you’re naked right now. the only thing on you right now is your pretty ring, glinting in the light, the same as his. you hold your hands behind your back at the observation. he’s attracted to you, like you are to him.
“i said you could. you can look at me.”
with those five words, bakugou’s pupils drop below your eyes. your skin burns wherever his eyes focus. on your lips, the curve of your bottom lip. your soft shoulders with glittering water droplets dotted across them. then your chest and he makes this weird grunty sigh. he wants to cup one or put one in his mouth. maybe cup one and put the other in his mouth. taste the lake water off your skin and circle your cute nipple with his tongue. then your soft stomach, he wants to lay his palms over you, he wants to touch, he’s dying to. then your mound, unshaven and he’s wondering how you taste. whether if he dips his fingers between your plush thighs, will they come away wet? he hums at your hips, thinking about spinning you around to see your ass and if it’s how he imagined it would be under your dress. then your feet, hidden in the grass.
bakugou feels lucky, elated, he thinks you’re so fucking perfect.
you were not expecting that. maybe some horny monologue, but to be called perfect? he gulps, eyes wide like he wasn’t planning on letting that slip.
“i’m not takin’ that back. you’re perfect. better than i imagined.”
“you’ve imagined me like this?”
he snorts, “of course. you haven’t imagined me like this?”
he thinks it’s very possible you haven’t but he risks it by pushing it back on you. he wins because you only give him that glare he’s growing to think is adorable.
“i’ve also imagined your ass and from the front i already know it beats expectations,” he grins and you’re wondering where the shy to show his boner bakugou went.
you shove his shoulder, “you are not what i imagined.”
bakugou doesn’t know what to make of that. he tilts his head to the side, “what did you think?”
you’re surprised at how you don’t feel self conscious or at all awkward being completely naked with bakugou. he’s back to focusing on your eyes though when you talk they drop to your lips and when you move to hold your side, he glances at your breasts. otherwise he’s back giving you his full attention.
“well, everyone back home said you were cruel, vicious and violent. how you were known for going berserk in battle,” you give him a smile he can only class as cocky, “you don’t know how many grandmas i have praying for me.”
bakugou raises his eyebrows. he knows what people say about him so he’s not completely surprised. “i am all those things, though i’m not in a battle with you. i haven’t tryin’ to be. us being bitchy to each other just happened.”
“i thought you hated me.”
“i think you thought you were supposed to hate me.”
you sigh, taking the silk ribbon out of your hair and redoing your bun. bakugou’s been doing a good job so far ignoring the pulsing in his cock. it’s heavy between his thighs and it’s only getting heavier with the sight of your arms in the air, your tits moving too. you’re gorgeous, pretty features all in the right places.
“i guess so? i didn’t want this arranged marriage stuff,” your hands dance in the air as if to explain before landing on your hips, “but i’ll do it for my family.”
bakugou wants you to do it for him, for yourself. he thinks he can get you to admit it.
“i was the same,” he mumbles, “hated how you were suddenly just here. in my space. i wanted to run my village on my own because i know i can but fuckin’ family. don’t wanna disappoint the ‘rents.”
you hum before him in agreement.
“i’ll be good to you. the best son, best chief, best warrior, best husband.” he nods at you and you don’t mean to step closer to him but you do, holding his promise tightly in your chest.
“do you promise?” you look up at him, eyes wide with hope and bakugou never wants to let you down. he hopes he never does.
“swear on my village.”
you freeze. you don’t know what means more to bakugou than his village, his people. you’re breathing heavy and the prickles of warm heat from the sun is making you sweat. actually the promise which feels worth so much more than a marriage certificate is making you sweat.
you lay your palm flat on bakugou’s chest, sinking down to the tuft of dark hair just above the cloth. it’s doing such a bad job at covering him.
“can i help you?”
your voice is sweet, nervous for rejection and bakugou wants nothing more than to just give himself to you. to thrust himself in your smaller palms exactly how he wants.
“i didn’t… i didn’t say that to get somethin’ out of it?” he starts but you only smile at him. how would you react if he kissed you?
“you didn’t do anything. i was the one out here. you only stayed to protect me, right?” your voice is taunting, like a magnet dragging him to you. your palm doesn’t move any lower, waiting on his command.
“but… fuck.”
“you can tell me what you like. i’ve been with a few guys back home so—,”
a large palm covers your mouth with swiftness, “don’t talk about other men around me if you don’t want to get a letter from back home that there’s been a raid.” katsuki’s voice drops octaves deeper and you cross one leg over the other. you guess this is the bakugou people warned you about. you lightly pull his hand off your face with no resistance.
“yes chief,” bakugou rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw. he’s willing to ignore that now. he’ll come back to it later, “so what about me touching your co—,”
bakugou grips your hips before walking backwards with you. your hands fly to his chest, glancing behind. “why are we going—,”
“i don’t want anyone to see what i’m about to do to you.”
“i’ve told you nobody can see us here. i bathe out here all the time.” you’re now knee deep, now thigh deep in the lake. tall grass and weeds surround you and your fiancé protectively.
“i’m gonna be with you every time you bathe now to look out.”
“that’s not possible. you’re out early in the mornings and back late in the evenings.”
“i’ll change my routine.”
“you’re planning on changing a lot for me, aren’t you?”
“you’re my wife.”
he says it with finality and for the first time, you don’t have a comeback. perhaps that you’re only his fiancé but it feels pointless. you gaze down at his cloth, half submerged in the lake.
“it’s all soaked!”
bakugou wastes no time untying it from his hips, rolling it in a ball and throwing it onto the grass.
“guess we’re both gonna have to air dry.”
finally, your eyes drop to his cock and what a pretty cock bakugou has. maybe that’s the wrong word, since it looks like it could cause damage to your insides. the tip is a round, bulbous, deep pink that you’re wondering how it feels against the inside of your cheek. he’s got three thick veins around his length that curves slightly to the left. the base is so much darker than the rest of him and he looks so smooth. so hard and almost painful.
you give his balls a soft squeeze and bakugou bucks in your hand. his hand clenching around your hips for some type of stability. his crimson eyes are hidden from view, shut and he’s clenching down hard on his teeth, the scar on his cheekbone creasing.
“princess… oh fuck,”
you’re going to be able to see bakugou katsuki, chief of the village and head of the army, fall apart and you’re going to do it to him.
“it’s okay katsuki, talk me through it, tell me how you feel,” you whisper, your voice no louder than the grasshoppers and crickets around you.
“j-just stroke me. tight and hard,” he grunts, head dropping to your shoulder to see what you’re doing to him.
you do what you’re told, fingers circling his length and pumping. he never mentioned speed so you go steady, delighted to hear your name fall from his lips, dripping in pleasure.
“y’know i went out to get that m-massive fuckin’ fish for dinner yesterday all to impress you,” katsuki’s got no clue why he’s admitting this now, not when you’re so close that you’re sharing body heat and he can lick to water off your neck. “you never ate it.”
you never knew that he went and got it, especially not to impress you. there’s barely any space to react not with him holding you so tight. he begins to thrust his hips in your hand.
“i didn’t know you got it for me. i don’t like fish.”
bakugou laughs, deep and gravelly you feel it between your legs and right in your ear. “i know that now, honey. next time i’ll kill a—,” his breath shakes and you’re mesmerised by him, his body. so muscled and strong and he’s yours. “i’ll kill the next village’s golden fuckin’ cow for you. would that impress you?”
you can barely think straight. the next village is barbaric, though that’s nothing for bakugou. you’re nodding before you realise you’re doing so, “yes, yes it will.”
“gonna cover you in silvers and golds,” he grunts and the ring on his finger imprints into your hips, “the next r-raid, gonna take everythin’ you’d like.”
katsuki moans loudly, a whiny, “fuck” accompanied with a dribble of precome over your fingers. his breath is hot and his fingertips are pressing into your hips. you make a move to thumb his head but he stops thrusting immediately. “if you touch there i’ll come and i’m damned if we start this relationship with me comin’ first.”
you loosen your grip on his cock as he lifts his forehead from your shoulder. “can i touch you? want you to come on my fingers.”
your breath halts in your throat. oh you’ve imagined this, not in this situation with your legs in the lake, outdoors and surrounded by lush greenery, but in your private bedroom in bakugou’s quarters. your legs spread on your bed while your thoughts wander to the blonde man and how he’s easily able to wield a weapon.
katsuki doesn’t kiss your mouth, you think he purposely avoids it, instead littering wet nibbles and kisses down your neck and shoulder.
you gasp at a particularly hard nibble, “yes, touch me.”
in your fantasies, katsuki is rough. he pushes you onto the bed, he doesn’t ask whether you’re ready and he always always makes you come. you think he could be like that though right now he’s anything but.
one hand stays at your hip to keep you from twitching as beneath the water bakugou kicks your legs further apart. you hold onto him in surprise but there’s no time to complain as his thick middle finger skims through your centre.
“ha, knew you’d be wet. it’s all in your eyes, honey,”
you just mewl, cheek leaning on his chest. you feel his cock bob against your stomach.
with his single finger he begins to circle your clit and you’ve wanted a release so bad these past few days that that touch alone feels like fireworks lighting up inside your body. your eyes are sliding shut, mouth dropping open as bakugou literally coos in your ear.
“d’you like that? got a pretty fuckin’ wife, don’t i?”
“fiancé,” you whine and you don’t know why you bother to correct him. he feels so safe, his skin cosy and the air fresh. you’re nodding against him, “so good.”
“technicalities. you’re mine either way,” he pecks your temple, rolling your clit on his finger until he hears your breathing become ragged. bakugou looks down at you and he’s not sure what swells within his chest.
he’s been with a few ladies in the neighbouring villages though he’s never felt anything for them minus fleeting attraction. looking down at you with your plush lips parted and your eyebrows furrowed like the pleasure is too much... your smooth skin compared to his scarred chest. your hands are scrambling for purchase, resting between your breasts and his chest and he’s begging to be chest to chest. you’re angelic, unlike anything he’s ever seen before yet so similar to the beauty of nature.
he’s seen it all, he’s done it all. committed the most gruesome of murders, stolen out of greed and lied for his own fulfilment. he knows that in those religious books they keep in the churches with all those sins under his belt, he doesn’t deserve somebody as heavenly as you. with your glares, always opinionated and your strange habits. your shiny hair, your galaxy filled pupils and your curious hands always touching something. he wants to know everything about you, have you by his side, he wants you to like him and soon, maybe love him.
you whine against his chest, a soft, “katsuki.” and he feels like he’s been set alight, a realisation of who he has in front of him ringing through his head.
he wraps his forearm against your lower back and growls in your ear. “gonna make you come all over my fingers. bet you taste heavenly, princess. wanna hear it all, don’t keep anything to yourself. you hear me?”
he wastes no time dipping two fingers into your centre and the friction from your wetness makes him go in like a dream. your arms go around his neck and you’re sure you’re dribbling against his chest. the sensation of him inside, prodding deliciously against your walls has you throwing your head back, “yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”
bakugou’s amazed at how you begin to bounce on his fingers, fucking yourself back onto him with no thoughts but hedonistic desires. a loud sloshing fills the air, it’s dirty and lewd but neither of you make a move to stop it.
this is the first time you’ve done anything together. the first time sexually but also just your first time completely alone together. you sleep in separate rooms, there’s always servants or soldiers or someone around but now it’s just you and him. you fucking yourself on his fingers.
“i knew, i knew this would feel good,” you squeal, a layer of sweat coating your forehead. bakugou’s hand slides up your stomach then your breasts to cup your jaw.
you look fucked, drowsy eyes, parted lips. though you don’t stop riding his fingers and he watches how your features shift as he thumbs your clit again.
“oh shit,” you breathe and bakugou grins cockily.
“you knew this would feel good? with me?”
your hum of agreement accidentally becomes a high pitched whine, “yeah. your fingers are so…” you arch your hips, chasing his thumb, “so big.”
he chuckles hearty and confident and he swears he’s forgotten the painful heavy limb at his hips until your fist circles it again.
“come with me, katsuki,”
he jolts in your hand. he’ll do anything you say, he didn’t realise it until this moment. but he says it anyway.
“say please, princess,”
you’re pouting, cheeks hot and eyes ready to plead. bakugou knows he’s lucky, he’s lucky you chose him.
“come with me please, i want to feel you come because of me,” you trail off, transfixed by his pupils on you.
“i can do that for you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your cheek.
you’re both rabid animals in the wild, a pile of heaving chests and moans and grunts in the water. sweat coats you both as your bodies move in sync, chasing the same feeling but together. bakugou thrusts into your palm, not hiding the deep grunt when you thumb his wet cock head. swears fall from his lips whilst you pair a few swears of your own with mewls.
together, you’re messy. lubricated by your own need. you don’t stop moving and neither does he.
“gonna be the best husband. you won’t need anyone else.”
“i don’t want anyone else.”
it’s a switch that goes off inside you. your eyes falling shut, your hips moving faster and your insides clench around his fingers as if you’re trying to keep him inside. your hand slows down on his cock while you come but that’s okay since he splutters over your stomach and under your breasts. loads and loads leak out of him and you keep trembling on his fingers. he finds that despite all the noise you made before, you orgasm in silence. just an open mouth and body slowly going limp.
bakugou keeps thrusting until he’s done and even he’s shocked at how much he’s able to produce. you can’t blame him, he’s been so tense with you around not knowing how to just talk to you and somehow this feels like it’s broken down a few walls between you both.
you come down from your highs clasping onto each other like a lifeline. sweaty palms and clammy skin though you both don’t mind. in fact, it’s something you could get used to really quickly.
“how about we wash off again and do that air dry thing you said?” his voice murmurs in your ear and you lift your cheek off his chest to pay attention to him.
katsuki looks lighter now. his cheeks a natural lovely pink, his carmine eyes glistening and he doesn’t have his typical frown. you actually find his resting face quite pretty and up close you can see how his eyelashes are long and uncurled batting against his skin. his nose is slightly wonky with a bump which you can assume is from fighting and you have an urge to kiss the scar going through his lips.
then you remember him calling you perfect and all the promises he made you before you were even having sex. your fiancé really isn’t who you thought he was. it’s all making you feel… shy, a silly little girl with a crush blossoming inside your heart. he just made you come with his fingers and you did the same to him, there’s no time for this. why he didn’t kiss you when you were so intimate? is that too personal for him? did he not want to?
you meet his eyes then look away to the clear lake below, you scramble out of his touch, weirdly awkward without his heat around you.
“oh yeah, we could. yeah,” you blurt, turning away from him and washing yourself again in the lake.
bakugou watches you, slow to begin cleaning himself again. he washes his chest, his fingers, his face and hair in silence before he says, “do you regret what we just did?”
you spin around to face your fiancé and you gulp. with the sunsetting behind him, the shadow his body creates only makes him look larger, beautiful. just the size of him makes you feel protected and you’re suddenly imagining him giving you a speech about how he’d protect you with his life. well, he did say he’d be a good husband before. his pert brown nipples, his stupidly toned chest and you’ve seen him help the villagers with farming and carrying goods back and forth. all jobs he doesn’t need to do, way below his level but he does anyway. why didn’t he kiss you?
the frown he gives you now though you recognise as a worried one. weakly furrowed brows and wide shiny eyes. he’s cautious and shies away from touching you.
you shake your head, “no, i don't regret it.”
katsuki’s frown doesn’t let up. he brushes all his wet hair off his forehead. “was it shit? did you not like it?”
oh you loved it. coming on his fingers, palms against his chest. next you wanna hold onto his bicep, bite down on it. again, you shake your head and bite down on your lip, “no i really enjoyed it but…” you trail off.
katsuki wastes no time, wading through the water over to you. he slides a palm to your cheek and you’re close to him again. your whole body feels electric. “but what? i can’t be a good husband if you don’t talk to me.”
his thumb traces your bottom lip, his hot breath covering your face. “i just…,” you huff, this isn’t you, “you didn’t kiss me! we did all of that and you didn’t kiss me once!”
he doesn’t mean to but the left side of his lips quirk up in amusement, his other hand sliding to your waist to hold you against him, “i did kiss you. there’s these bruises here to prove it.” he rubs his finger against your neck and you shiver.
“you bruised me?,” you blink and his smile is full blown. you feel like dropping to your knees before him because who knew bakugou katsuki could smile like that? “wait, no i meant on my mouth, you never gave me a proper kiss!”
he agrees with you, nodding slowly like he’s soothing you. his finger even draws shapes on your bare back. “i didn’t. that’s somethin’ you want?”
you have all his attention, and the shyness after your outburst is creeping back in. “yes,” you whisper.
“why?” he arches a brow.
“what?”
“why do you want me to kiss you, princess?”
you remember what he said before, he can’t be a good husband if you don’t talk to him. “it’s something i require. often. you’re the only person i can ask them from.”
katsuki looks satisfied by that answer, with an impressed roll of his lips, he murmurs, “that’s right. only i can kiss you.”
he leans into your lips, firstly brushing his chapped ones against your softer ones and you feel your whole body yearning. “okay.”
bakugou captures his lips with yours as if he’s breathing air into you, though it doesnt cool you, just sets you alight. you inhale him, wrapping your arms around his neck to drag him into you closer than humanely possible and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist. the kiss is controlled on his side, giving, like he knows you’re impatient and you could beg for more.
he pecks and lightly bites down on your bottom lip, only causing you to gasp out for another.
“katsuki,” you sound stern, though he only laughs at you.
“yeah, yeah, i’ll give it to you,”
katsuki slips his tongue into your mouth, your lips parting eagerly. a hand comes to cradle your cheek as excitement sparks down your spine and youre unsure how you lasted so long not doing this. how you have the rest of your life to continue doing this with him. he unsurprisingly tastes like the lake water, fresh air and smells like the fresh greenery around you. he’s easily dominating, controlling the kiss and sucking around your tongue. you moan instantly, completely ravenous and he only grins against your mouth in understanding. 
you want more and more but he pulls away with a smug grin.
“was that good enough for you?”
you look like you’ve been through it. cushion lips, out of breath with sleepy eyes. you’re not about to beg for another when he’s already so cocky.
you do decide to tell the truth though, “yes. could have been longer though.”
he huffs a laugh and your arms tighten around his neck. you want him again, you want to feel him again.
“we have forever, princess. and were gettin’ frog footed being in here.”
you can’t help but laugh at his phrasing, ignoring the soft warmth that spreads at the thought of forever. you guess you do have forever with him. you don't see your desire burning out anytime soon.
you untangle from him, wading through the water and out of the lake.
“there’s the ass i’ve been wantin’ to see,”
you glare at him following behind you, ruby eyes shining in amusement. you swat away a hand coming to squeeze you.
“has anyone told you you’re annoying?”
“no. they don’t wanna get their head knocked off.”
“figures.”
together, you lay out on the grass naked. it doesn’t take too long to dry but since you found out you don’t mind, okay, enjoy being in your fiancés company, you’re relaxed beside him.
“i’m surprised nobody has called you for village business or army business or family business. you’re in a lot of peoples business.”
you turn to face him, grass tickling your neck and cheek but he keeps his eyes upwards to the darkening evening sky, stars yet to appear.
“i tell them not to bother me when i’m bathing. hate getting interrupted during the only time i get to myself.”
you blink awkwardly, “oh, i guess i did that?”
he slowly turns to you, focusing on your lips then your eyes. fuck, he’s been to multiple villages, travelled far and wide and nobody has been as beautiful as you. he almost doesn’t feel worthy to be so close, intimate with you.
“you’re not included in that. you can bother me.”
“really? even before we… made up?”
your foot brushes his shin and he makes no move to shift away.
“i never really disliked you. just didn’t understand you.” he flicks his eyes down your body beside him and you feel your heart thunder against your rib cage, “you can join me in the lake anytime, princess.”
you roll your eyes despite the smile spreading across your cheeks. “now, has anyone told you how flirtatious you are?” you lean on your side to properly face him, a finger tracing shapes across his chest, “if i knew i was missing out on all this, i would have said i hated your food much sooner.”
katsuki grunts unamused though his eyes shine, “i wish you did too. i’ll fix shit around here, it’s your home too.”
“i appreciate that.”
it’s a comfortable silence, you being touchy while bakugou just lets you. the tips of your fingers trace the ridges of his abs, his scars, his marks. you’re careful to avoid his nipples though you keep getting intrusive thoughts to kiss them. his body is undeniably strong, wielding so much strength that there’s so much to touch that you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“you’re very affectionate.” he states.
bakugou doesn’t stay around women long enough to get to this part of cuddly aftercare. being this way around women only comes when he visits other villages with the air of danger and debauchery. he used to think the fact he knew he could get killed for sleeping with women from the other villages made the sex more thrilling though lying outside naked with you is the most comfortable he’s ever felt. like he’s supposed to be here with you and everywhere else he’s ever been was wrong.
you shrug loosely, “everyone would want to touch you.”
your hand brushes against the thick hair on his lower stomach and bakugou frowns over at you.
“that’s not what i wanted to hear. i said you are. not everybody else.”
your voice drops a few decibels, you don’t mean for it to, “do you want me to tell you i think you’re attractive? i’ve been wanting to touch you for a while. watching all these people look at you like you’re their god, people willing to die for you. now you’re out here with no weapons, just pure muscle alone with me. it does something to a girl, you know?” a single eyebrow raises along with the corner of your lips.
surprise has your hands scrambling as two of his large palms find your waist and plops you right on his chest, straddling his body. he grabs his cloth to prop behind his head and he keeps his hands on your thighs, squeezing and massaging. this position is a lot, you hope he doesn’t feel how wet you are on his chest. imagining the wet patch when you shuffle off him makes you flush.
bakugou knows it’s stupid but he doesn’t want you to see how he’s half hard yet, just how easy you get him aroused by touching his chest and talking to him. 
“when do you think you’ll start seeing me as your god? it would make my life a lot easier,” he smirks.
you shake your head, “hopefully never, i want to see you as my husband and friend.”
“friend?”
bakugou feels taken aback at how easy conversation is with you, how he can’t stop talking just so he can hear you talk in return. you’re brushing his blonde locks off his forehead, “yeah, i’d love to be your friend. we did rush into this fiancé stuff rather quickly,” you giggle.
he hums, “friends with benefits.”
“men,” you shake your head mumbling even though you’d say the exact same. “my friends with benefits fiancé.”
“sounds good to me.”
bakugou realises all at once, he’s not as strong as he thought he was. also he can smell your pussy and it’s leaving smears on his chest. “would it be crazy to ask you to sit on my face? i can smell you, princess.”
your jaw drops at his bluntness and you want to roll off and close your legs though he pins you down by your thighs. the heat of your lower half increases intensely. you’d love to just grind on his chest but he’s offering his mouth? yes, you’ve daydreamed about this too.
“oh my god, katsuki.” you splutter and he drags you along his chest.
“cmon, wanna taste you properly. feel you fall apart ‘cause of my mouth,”
you’re not sure how you could even start to say no to him, especially when you only want to say yes. he looks angelic with the new moonlight beginning to dust his golden hair and you know you should be scared with the growing darkness but youre not. the thing that could cause the most damage is ready to beg to eat your pussy.
“you’re unbelievable,” you murmur even though you lift up to crawl up to his face. you’re hovering your heat above him and the man lets out this animalistic moan, his eyes falling shut. you feel a roll of wetness spread through you. bakugou’s hands hold your hips like his life depends on it.
“talk to me, princess. about anythin’ you want,”
“what do you—,”
he practically drops you on his mouth, his lips finding your clit with ease and sucking, hard.
“holy—,” you gasp, your back arching and it doesn’t take long at all for you to start grinding on his face, fingers clenching chunks of his hair like handlebars.
bakugou licks and licks between your legs, you can even feel him swallowing everything he gathers on his tongue before swiping again. your whole body rumbles, feeling as if it’s been set alight. you don’t think you’ve ever been treated with such need, such vigour. you’re a wheezing burst balloon of moans and mewls, rocking on his tongue and flinging your head back every time he nudges your clit.
he pulls you away from him for a single second and you’re already gasping at being away, “talk to me.”
then he dips his tongue in your hole and you’re withering.
“a-about what?” you whine as he stops lapping you up and bites down on your inner thigh, “oh fuck, katsuki!”
you begin to babble, anything that comes to mind, mostly all your thoughts about him. “i-i sometimes watch you carry furniture and hay barrels for the o-old ladies—,” a soft sigh slips through as his thumb presses against your asshole, “i think it’s so a-adorable b-but then you get all sweaty and fuck.” 
bakugou studies you through squinted eyes, every reaction, what you love, what you’re saying to him. he ignores the heaviness of his balls and focuses on pleasuring you. he hums between your legs and your grip tightens in his hair. you’ve been watching him, the same way he’s been watching you all the time.
he doesn’t need to push you to talk more because you’re doing it on your own. swirling your hips on his face, “i see t-the way the women look at you when we’re in town and it m-makes me…” you’re arching your back and bakugou knows your close. he presses down on your ass, sucking your clit between his lips, “it makes me so m-mad, katsuki,” you whine as if you’re close to tears, “thinking about if you’ve ever f-fucked them.”
fuck. oh shit, you’ve been jealous? bakugou knows it’s not healthy for him to get turned on by the prospect but you’ve been so annoyed around him all the time to find out you’ve been jealous? you’ve been staring at him this whole time?
his realisation hits as hard as your orgasm, the sensation rocking through your body, heat springing to the tips of your toes and fingers.
your wail is loud, though you’re both sure nobody is close enough to hear you. again you’re riding his face, taking what’s yours and smartly, he lets you. playing with you till your soft and limp, thighs about to squeeze his head from overstimulation.
he lifts you off him slowly, “okay princess, you’re good,” wrapping you in his chest as you try to regulate your breathing again. 
there’s crickets in the air, hoots of owls and the soft breeze making the trees dance. living in a village as a chief’s daughter, there weren't many opportunities to be outside in the dark and not assume imminent danger. in bakugou’s arms, you’re sure there's nothing you can't face.
bakugou blurts the words before he can even think about them, “i haven’t by the way.”
you glance up at his face, shocked to find how shiny his mouth is from his spit and you. you gasp and when he notices, he just wipes his face with his hand before sucking your juices off his fingers. his pink tongue darts out to taste every bit you left over and you cant help your next words coming out as a mindless flutter.
“you haven’t what?”
“fucked anyone from here,” he shakes his head.
you won’t call him a liar though it feels a little suspicious, “you’re not telling me you’re a virgin, are you?”
bakugou rumbles a laugh you can only find endearing despite the situation. you feel the laugh vibrating in his chest and you even lay your palm against it.
“no, princess i’m not.” 
you blink, you’re not sure why you feel so jealous of people you’ve never met, over a man you’ve known for not even a whole month. you definitely weren’t expecting your new fiancé, chief and leader to be a virgin, heck you’re not either but still it must be nice to be chosen by katsuki and not his family.
“okay,” you breathe.
“what? why do you sound all upset?” he rolls you on your back and lays sideways facing you so there’s no way you can escape his gaze. his rough fingers brush hair out your face before cupping your cheek. “talk to me. i can’t be a good husband otherwise.”
that seems to be the new button he can press to get you sharing all your secrets.
“just that it would be nice to be actually wanted by you instead of just being dumped with me.”
bakugou blinks, hand freezing before frowning, “what the fuck?”
“you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, so it’s okay if you saw other people too. i think lots of marriages do this. i will probably too later on. i know you didn’t exactly want me and your parents chose me for you like mine chose you and—,”
“yn.” you think it’s the first time he’s said your name all night.
“yes?” you whisper.
“other people don’t matter, none of them matter. d’you really fuckin’ think that i didn’t choose you? that i didn’t have a say in having you as my wife? do you think you didn’t either?”
you’re silent for a moment, pondering on the idea, “what do you mean?”
bakugou huffs a laugh, “there’s loads of chiefs' daughters, army leaders' daughters across villages, even countries, neighbouring countries. even so, i don’t need this deal our parents made, i can fend for my village.”
you sit up abruptly, looking out to the navy sky and his pupils only follow you nonchalantly, “so why am i here?”
“because i want you.” bakugou claims, loud and clear, “and you wanted me too. otherwise you would have told your parents no like you did to every other dickhead suitor that came your way.”
you glance over at him and he only looks back at you. 
“tell me i’m right. ask my village, i’m never fuckin’ wrong.”
your mouth opens though nothing comes out. bakugou, however, just lays back on the grass, closing his eyes. “couldn’t say no to my beat up face and what did you say earlier? sweaty body helping old ladies?”
you shove his side though he doesn’t move, he just yanks you back down into his chest.
“you’re insane.”
“they always say that to the one that knows the truth,” he lays a kiss on your forehead and you feel at home. then his tone turns stern like a lecture, “i’m yours and you’re mine. nobody is seeing anyone else.” then he stops, biting down on his lips, “but if you do ever think about that then you have to tell me—,”
you shake your head, “no, i only said that in case you did.”
“i fuckin’ don’t. you’re all i need.”
“good.” you trace your finger across his collarbone, “i guess i did choose you. i’d get love letters from the most random men and they’d even turn up at my home declaring marriage with me. a whole song and dance. then you came along with a gorgeous ring and you didn’t even have to say too much, everyone’s heard about you. i thought i said yes to get it all over and done with, my parents wanted me to marry so bad. i think i was just waiting for you.”
bakugou reaches for your hand, kissing the ring on your finger. “i was waitin’ for you too.”
“katsuki?”
“wife?” you poke his side, so he corrects himself not before rolling his eyes, “fiance? princess?”
“it’s getting chilly, so let's go indoors. i’ll put my dress back on.”
bakugou stops you from getting your clothes, “they’re dirty, i’ll just bring you inside.”
“i’m not going inside naked?!”
“i’ll cover you,” and he demonstrates how he’d do so by standing up and effortlessly dragging your body from the floor and into his arms. your chest is against his, your arms around his neck with his arm against your ass. 
“your servants are going to drop dead after seeing us like this so soon.”
“they knew this would happen. they could feel the sexual tension every time you’d bite my head off for asking you a question at dinner.”
“they were always stupid questions!”
“you never gave me much to work with,” he replies and without too much thought, bakugou presses a kiss to your lips. a soft one like lovers would. “how about you come out with my friends and their wives tomorrow?”
you’re biting down on your lip and nodding before he even finishes, “as friends with benefits fiancés?”
bakugou chuckles, loud and brash, starting the walk up to your shared home, “whatever you want as long as i’m yours.”
you wrap your arms around his neck tighter as bakugou manoeuvres you both in the dark. your smile is glowing and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy, “yes chief.”
you get a pinch to your ass, “sorry, husband!”
feedback appreciated
part two!! // FOR YOU masterlist
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deadghosy · 1 month
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Okay so I just started reading Hazbin stuff on your blog, but they're AWESOME!! I'd like to request some Catnap!reader headcanons with the Vees if that's possible?
SURE! Thanks for the suggestion anon🦆💗
CATNAP! READER W/ THE VEES FOR A DAY
prompt: one of the Vee’s grabbed you out of now where and brought you to their tower to hang out.
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You didn’t know how this flat faced person got your attention…more like grabbed your tail like a untrained child 😭
Vox grabbed your tail dragging you to the Vee’s tower as you sighed, leaving some red gas out of your mouth annoyed.
I feel like somehow you would agree to hang out with the Vee’s as long as you don’t see them in your hellish life forever.
I can imagine a picture of you and the Vee’s taking a selfie, but Velvette is on her phone, Vox is smiling at the camera, and Valentino is trying to blow a kiss at you.
Valentino was trying to cook for the other two Vee’s and you only for the kitchen to burn down as you and Velvette order take out as Vox gets the fire extinguisher. Valentino is trying not to touch the ✨pretty fire✨
I headcannon Valentino finding you attractive because if your tall frame. But also your smile as you just stand there smiling having your hands behind your back.
Imagine Valentino showing off his guns and you’re like. “Who needs guns when I can do this.” You said smiling as poppy gas slides through your teeth and knocks Valentino straight out on the ground when you smirk.
I can see the Vee’s and you going in a shopping spree and you decide to fuck with them and spend almost all their saving worth. Vox knew what you were doing so he stopped you.
I feel like the Vee’s will try to use try to get info on Alastor. But that’s mostly Vox so it would useless as you don’t anything form Alastor other than Alastor hates when you knock him out for bedtime
You literally sat there as Valentino was trying to get you to watch one of his sex tapes…you knocked him out and left the room as you grumbled.
I can imagine if it was sleepover it would chaotic as hell as Vox would be the one to fall asleep first and duct taped to the ceiling as the other snicker
For shits and giggles, Velvette will say you give off Lana Del Rey vibes as you just side eye her saying, “what tf you know about Lana Del Rey?”
You two are the best music buddies of modern genre.
Imagine a cute little headcannon where they all have secret matching bracelets and they let you have one.
Vox brought you on his channel to talk about your weird and cocky appearance. You were just on there to be clowned until you smirked letting poppy gas as the camera man fell breaking the camera.
“WHAT THE FUCK?! You dumbass cat!” “I’m dumb?” You said glancing at the man beside you as you slapped him smoothly with your tail as he had a shocked face touching his cheek.
I can see Valentino trying to get catnap! Reader to wear heels only for catnap! Reader to break them in their hands shaking their head no as they walk away again
I headcannon that the only V that catnap! Reader finds tolerable is Velvette because of her whole personality and not how she tries to bring catnap! Reader down
You definitely have that fun friend troupe with Velvette which is sweet and wholesome.
Velvette and you were hanging out on her side of the tower as she was getting you dressed in [style aesthetic]. You actually liked it as you gave her a thumbs up and grin.
I headcannon Velvette and Vox to try to make you do those dumbass TikTok dance trends with them so they could get #1 on the trending board.
I can imagine catnap! Reader ordering one of tose bug zappers to only electrocute Valentino
Velvette posted you and her doing a fashion walk as Angel was shocked seeing this on her page and shows the staff of the hotel.
The hazbin hotel gang will be like: “why tf is our resident hanging out with them?” As you are just trying to see why people even love the Vee’s.
I can headcannon that Vox forced you into a group chat with them
I can see that every time you hang out with the Vee’s, your phone gets blown up with worried text from the hazbin hotel crew. And then Vox will try to hack or get into your phone to disable your phone.
I imagine you and Vox literally shitting in each other. Like you say “why as you so short.” While he thinks of a comeback to say back to you.
I headcannon that if you and the Vee’s played uno together, you’re rigging it. Cause ain’t no one gonna win today.
At the end of the day, you left their asses as you used your red smoke on them…well idk about Vox cause that bitch has a tv head. You probably gave him a virus to circuit.
BRO WHO TF MADE THAT SMIRK FOR CATNAP?! EHH? Anyways I hope you guys liked this🦆💗
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joelsmochi · 10 months
Text
Dirty Lies
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SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you. WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]
A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…
There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.
Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.
You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.
Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.
He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.
You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.
But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.
You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.
For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.
He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.
You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.
“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”
Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.
“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.
You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.
Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.
Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.
“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”
Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”
You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.
“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.
This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”
You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”
“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.
You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”
Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.
You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”
Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”
You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.
“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”
“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”
Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”
“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.
You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”
Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?
Is that what this was? A crush?
He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.
“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”
He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.
You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.
“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.
You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”
“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.
“How should I go about telling a guy that?”
He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.
Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.
“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.
“Does he do the things you ask him to?”
“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.
He gave you a look that said come on now.
“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.
“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”
You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”
“Does he like you?”
“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”
“So… What do I do?”
“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”
“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”
“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.
“What do you mean?”
Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”
“A real man, huh?” You bantered.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Like you?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Do you like me?”
Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.
Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.
“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”
You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.
You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.
He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.
The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.
Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.
“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”
He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.
His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.
His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.
You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”
He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”
“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”
He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”
“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”
“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.
“That so?”
“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”
Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.
However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.
You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.
Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.
For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.
When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.
Joel.
Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.
You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.
It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.
“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.
“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.
“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”
“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.
You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”
He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.
You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.
“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.
“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.
“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”
He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.
“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.
“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.
“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.
You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.
“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder. 
You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”
“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”
“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.
“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.
Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.
“Yep, he sure does.”
Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.
Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.
You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.
Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.
You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.
Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.
He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.
He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.
“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”
He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.
He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.
One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.
He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.
You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.
Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.
He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.
You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.
You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.
You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.
“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.
He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.
Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.
Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.
A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.
Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.
You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.
He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.
He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.
He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.
You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.
You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.
You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.
Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.
Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.
He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.
Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.
You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.
It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.
He felt ashamed of himself.
He’d known you since you were a child.
How could he ever look you in the eye again?
How could he ever look your father in the eye again?
You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.
When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.
“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”
You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.
“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.
You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”
His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”
With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”
“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.
“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”
You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”
“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.
“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.
“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”
“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.
“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”
You could just hear the smile in his voice.
“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.
He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.
“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.
“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”
Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.
“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”
“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”
You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.
Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.
If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…
He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.
You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.
Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”
She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.
“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.
“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“
Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”
“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.
You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”
“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.
“Told ya.”
“What time are you out?”
You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.
“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”
“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”
You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”
You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.
“Think you know why,” he grunted.
Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.
But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.
You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.
“I got a good one in already—“
“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.
“No, b—“
“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”
Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:
-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.
-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.
-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?
Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.
“You not working tonight?” You asked.
“No, we finished early.”
You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.
“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”
“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.
“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”
He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.
“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.
You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.
You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.
His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.
He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.
You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.
His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.
You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.
You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.
He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.
You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.
His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.
Savor it.
Taste it.
Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.
Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.
“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.
He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.
Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.
“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”
He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.
You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.
You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.
His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.
He loved it.
Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.
You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.
“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”
Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.
Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.
Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.
He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.
You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.
The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.
The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.
"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"
He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"
Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."
"Why are you actin' all shy now?"
"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."
"Know about what exactly?"
You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"
He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.
"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.
"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.
You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."
"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.
"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."
Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.
"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.
"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.
"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"
-
Read Part 2 here.
4K notes · View notes
iznsfw · 2 months
Text
Reputation, Or Whatever That Is
IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung
IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut
7,063 words
Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities
Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.
Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK
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It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 
You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.
But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?
Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—
Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.
Wonyoung. 
It’s all because of her. 
She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.
You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.
Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 
Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.
You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 
There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—
Remember to exhale.
So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.
A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 
hey, it reads, you need to—
-
—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 
There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.
The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 
You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”
Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.
She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”
Slide your ID card on the counter.
She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 
She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.
Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.
Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.
“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”
Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.
The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.
Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 
Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.
Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.
“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.
She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.
Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”
Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.
“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”
You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 
To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.
“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”
You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.
The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 
“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 
Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”
Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.
“Look here, we—”
You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 
Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.
“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”
You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.
“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”
She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 
“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?
Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 
It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.
“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”
Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 
Deception can’t lead you away. 
“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 
Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.
“You liked it.”
“What?”
She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”
What the hell is she talking about?
You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—
The heart. 
Wait.
The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.
Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.
Fuck.
You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.
Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 
“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.
She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 
“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”
You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 
Something else is, too.
“Then, of course, you see me.” 
Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.
It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.
“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”
It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.
Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.
“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”
Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 
You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.
Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”
That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.
You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:
You. 
Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 
And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 
So, it’s still so wrong.
Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 
Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 
“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”
Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.
Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 
So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:
Blame it all on her. 
Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.
“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”
Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 
She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.
“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 
With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.
“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 
Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.
She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.
Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.
Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.
The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.
Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 
Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 
“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.
She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.
All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 
That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”
Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.
“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 
“What’s wrong with you?” 
You’d respond if you knew the answer.
Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”
All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.
“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”
You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 
Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.
It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 
You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 
“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 
Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 
“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 
“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 
Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?
You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.
Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.
The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”
“Shit, god, I can’t—”
Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 
Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.
Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.
She really could be a good girl.
“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”
Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.
You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”
She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.
She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 
Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 
Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.
If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.
“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.
You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 
Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.
“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”
“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”
You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.
“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”
Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 
What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.
“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”
“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”
You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 
You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.
“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”
Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 
The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 
“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”
You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.
She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 
She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.
“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”
“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.
Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.
Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.
She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”
Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 
She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”
To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.
She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.
“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 
You can do nothing except nod.
“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”
She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.
Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.
And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 
“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”
You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 
“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”
You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 
You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”
“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”
She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 
Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 
You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.
Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.
-
Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 
That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 
“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 
“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”
Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.
“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”
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geeky-politics-46 · 2 months
Text
Kinktober 2023 - Day 7
Sex Toys with Bucky Barnes
"The Gift"
Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!
Summary: You give Bucky a gift he never knew he wanted.
Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - masturbation, sex toys, homemade porn, dirty talk, pet names, langcorn, reference to oral & vaginal sex, Bucky being a needy boy.
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Bucky paced back and forth, trying to avoid staring at the box on the bed. His fingers pulling on his hair and biting at his bottom lip, trying to find a way to direct his attention anywhere else, but his mind kept pulling him back. The ache between his legs was beginning to throb each time he looked at the box & let his thoughts drift back to you.
You had to know what even just your innocent little texts did to him when you had been gone this long. Even just a sweet "miss you so much, Buck" sent his blood straight to his cock. It gets him thinking about how you can be all sugar sweet around everyone else then turn into such a dirty girl the minute you get to your bedroom. Hell you loved nothing more than whispering something filthy to him right before walking in a room with someone else just to get him wound up.
He had no idea what he had unleashed the first time you two started getting a little frisky. He loved how you seemed a little old fashioned when you started dating. How you made him court you made him earn each and every little kiss. By the time you two had gotten to the point of sex being a possibility, he was nervous he would scare you away by being too aggressive. Little did he know what awaited him.
He will never forget the night he found out how bad you really were. You had been dating a couple of weeks and had the compound to yourselves for an evening, so it wasn't surprising when watching a movie devolved into a hot and heavy make-out session. He tried not to let on that you had him hard as a rock. He didn't want to put any pressure on you. Then, as you were adjusting to hook your leg around him, your thigh brushed up against his erection making him moan against your lips. He hoped maybe you hadn't noticed or, at the very least, were going to pretend you didn't feel the massive bulge in his pants.
You pulled back to look in his eyes, and he looked like a deer in headlights. He was terrified you were gonna slap him or never want to see him again. He didn't expect you to let out a dark little chuckle and bite his bottom lip. You sucked his lip into your mouth, then let it go with a wet pop before licking it once. He sat frozen as you moved your lips to whisper in his ear. Your voice dropped an octave as you spoke.
"Well, well, soldier, seems like you're enjoying this, huh? Enjoying having my mouth on you. Have you thought about what else I can do with my mouth?" With that, you sucked his earlobe into your mouth, and he let out a little high-pitched squeal he didn't know he could make.
"Maybe my mouth is a bit too much for now, hmm. Don't want you to blow just yet, Buck. What about my hands? Bet you've thought of them touching you. Stroking you all over." 
As you spoke, you moved one hand up to his hair, leaving the other wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you. Accenting the end of each sentence with the particular touch you described.
"Thought about my fingers pulling on your hair." You purred, gripping his soft, short, dark brown hair and giving it a soft tug.
"My nails scraping down your back." You gently pulled your nails in a straight line down his spine, stopping at the base of it.
"My palm sliding up and down your chest", you let your hand circle his waist and slide up under his shirt, pressing your entire hand flat to the center of his strong chest. You could feel his heart pounding. He had his eyes closed and was trying to keep his breathing steady. His nostrils flared. He didn't want to let you know how close you had him to losing all control.
You paused for a moment, lulling him into a trap to make him open his eyes. You kissed his lips softly and sweetly. Innocently. Then, after rubbing your nose against his, you pulled back to see his beautiful blue eyes. 
Like a cobra, you struck. Using the hand looped around his neck, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. You rose to your knees, so you were looking down at him and slowly started pulling your hand downward.
A wicked grin on your face as you dragged the next sentence out word by word. You knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.
".. and I bet that there's something else you've thought about my hands doing, isn't that right, Buck? Bet you've thought about it so much. Bet you've thought about it after every date we've had."
You could feel him inhale sharply as you touched the top of his abdomen. You slowly started to curl your fingers in, leaving just your index finger touching him.
"Maybe you've thought about it when you're in the shower..."
You felt his abs contract under your fingertip.
"I'm sure you've thought about it in bed at night too. I know I have, baby."
Your fingertip hit the top of his jeans, and just for a second, you stopped. Giving him a chance to push you off of him if he didn't want you to go any farther. When all that came from him was a little whimper, you let your fingertip continue over the button & down his fly.
"Bet you've thought about me touching you here. Thought about me touching, and rubbing, and stroking your hard cock. You feel even bigger than I imagined, baby."
After hitting the bottom of his groin with just your fingertip, you turned your hand and gripped him with your whole hand. Starting to massage his entire bulge. A loud moan escaped as he fought the urge to thrust into your hand.
He was now staring at you with his eyes wide & his mouth hanging open. What happened to the sweet shy thing who blushed when he brought you flowers? Here you were a little sexbomb on the verge of making him cum in his pants and you had only just started touching him.
From then on, you just kept surprising him with how dirty you could be. So, really, he shouldn't have been that surprised when he found the naughty little gift you left him when you went on your mission. 
It was the first time either of you had to leave since the 2 of you started dating, let alone having sex. You knew the both of you would be missing each other something bad. So the last night you were together there were lots of pics and few little videos. Bucky knew they were mostly for him. You were gonna have your hands full with the mission.
You had awoken something in him that had been asleep since before he became the Winter Soldier. He couldn't get enough of you, of your body. Of your perfect wet little pussy. He loved telling you that too. That was why you got him the gift.
It was a sex toy. A Fleshlight. 
He picked up the card and read it again:
Something to play with until you can enjoy the real thing again. I picked the one I thought looked the most like your best girl ;)
XOXO
Your best girl and your girlfriend too
He hadn't dared to open the toy yet. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure he could. His 1940s sensibilities were getting the best of him. He wasn't a prude by any means, but the idea of fucking a plastic toy designed to look like a pussy just seemed so... dirty.
Of course, that was also the appeal, wasn't it? Especially the fact that you had picked one you thought looked like your pussy. His pussy. He was curious if it really did. It was hard to tell from the outer box. 
There was no harm in taking a peek, right? You had sent him a message after you knew he had found your gift. Telling him that if he didn't want to use it or it weirded him out that he didn't have to use it or even keep it. 
He would just have a look and then put it away. Figure out his feelings a bit more before he decided what to do. He at least had to know if it did look like you. Although he would put money that it wouldn't be as perfect as yours. Nothing would ever be as perfect to him as your pussy. 
He double-checked to make sure his door was locked. Approaching the box and tentatively picking it up. He looked over the images on the outside and felt himself cringe. It felt like the naked woman on the box was judging him. She looked nothing like you and did absolutely nothing for him. He quickly unsealed and opened the box, and pulled out the toy wrapped in tissue paper. Not sure if he wanted to unwrap just the end or the whole toy. 
He decided to go right for what had him the most curious. The soft, skin colored silicone slowly coming in to view. He let the fingers of his right hand stroke the edge of the silicone. To his surprise, it did feel rather nice under his touch. Now, he was ready to reveal the toy fully. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away the last bit of tissue. A moan pulling deep in his throat. 
Oh fuck, it did look like your pussy. His pussy. His mouth watered and his pants immediately got tight. He couldn't tear his eyes off of it now. He let his thumb stroke over the fake clit on the toy and swore he could almost hear you shudder. Then he used his index and middle finger to trace the plump labia of the toy and momentarily stretch the hole.
He was right, it was nowhere close to as perfect as your juicy pussy, but it was much more tempting than he could ever have thought possible. He wanted to lick it like he would lick you, and he wanted to fuck it like he would fuck you. Was he really going to do this? He picked up your note and read it one more time, imagining the look on your face and the things you would say to him if you were here watching him. 
Yep. He was really going to do this. 
He quickly stuffed the paper wrapping in the box and threw the box under his bed. Pulling the blankets back on his bed and dropping the toy there. Quickly opening his nightstand and fishing for the bottle of lube. Throwing his shirt and jeans off as fast as he could before moving to lay in the very middle of the bed. That way, he could smell your pillow and pretend you were really there with him. 
The toy momentarily forgotten as he began scrolling through the various naughty photos and videos he had of you. Starting to palm and rub at his hard cock through his underwear. He could practically hear you saying how much you loved seeing him in his just his boxer briefs. You always said his cock looked incredible straining against the tight fabric. How they hugged his thighs and his ass perfectly. That you never thought a guy in his underwear could get you that wet.
Fuck you made him feel so good. He forgot all the things he hated about his body when you touched and praised him. You made him feel sexy. You made him want to show off for you. Making a very clear point of saying how all these photos and videos weren't just for him. Maybe he would send you a picture when he was done?
He stopped at a video clip where you were sitting between his legs, slowly taking off your bra and panties. Stopping to rub at him a few times or shake your tits at him. He heard his own voice telling you to pull at your nipples. His cock twitched at the moan that fell from your lips. He knew what was coming next, so he quickly set the phone down reaching for the lube and the pussy toy. 
He flipped the cap up on the lube and let some of the slick clear liquid coat the pads of his fingers just in time to hear himself tell you to take off your panties and show him your pussy. To show him his pussy and how wet you were for him. As you did exactly what he told you to in the video, he let his lube slicked fingers start to pet and stroke the outer lips of the toy. His long middle finger running a small circle around the hole, barely dipping inside before sliding back out and around. 
Once the toy was nice and slick, just like your cunt now on display in the video, he set both it and his phone down just long enough to pull his underwear off. He gasped as he felt the cool air of the room make contact with his leaking tip. He was wetter than he thought he was, clearly underestimating his own need. 
With his phone in one hand and the toy in the other, he waited until he heard his own voice in the video again. Waiting until he told you to come and rub your pretty pussy all over his cock. To get him nice and wet while you made your little pussy feel good.
The next video was a close up of his cock slotted between your pussy lips as you slid yourself back and forth against his shaft. He started to copy your motions in real time, letting the toy slide against his cock in time with your movements. A needy little moan falling from his lips when the toy caressed the ridge under the head of his cock.
His hips unexpectedly bucking a couple of times when he heard your whimpers in the video. If he closed his eyes, he would never think that it was a toy in his hand and not the real thing. It still wasn't you, nothing would ever feel as good as you, but fuck him it still felt so good. 
He couldn't hold himself back much longer, so he flicked to the video of his cock slowly sliding in and out of you cunt. He could never get over how incredible you looked stretched around his length, how his cock glistened with you slick everytime he pulled back out. Your swollen clit front and center and just begging for attention. 
He pulled his attention back to the toy in his hand. Angling it so his tip pressed against the hole of the toy. Adding just enough pressure to feel it start to stretch around his thick leaking head, just like your pussy would. A gasp pulled from his lips as the toy slowly engulfed his tip. Pulling it back up before pushing it down just a little more.
Repeating the same action over and over. Pushing down so the toy swallowed another inch of his cock, then pulling all the way up. Them pushing back down again until he had finally bottomed out. The video on his phone was momentarily forgotten. It felt incredible. So tight and snug and wet around his aching cock. 
His hips acting on their own as he started rutting into the toy. Whimpering as it seemed to suck his cock back in. He fought the urge to start frantically fucking the toy. As good as it felt, and holy fuck did it feel good, he still wanted to fantasize it was your cunt he was fucking. 
He let his eyes close again with his cock fully sheathed in the fake pussy. Quickly rolling onto his side and burying his face in your pillow as his hips started to thrust hard and fast. Moaning as your smell filled his nostrils. Replaying all the mornings you had woken up together only to have innocent spooning turn into fucking. 
Bucky let himself start to whimper little praises as if you were really there. His vibranium hand grabbed at the blankets and clamped around your pillow. Pulling them closer to him. His mind turned to mush as the toy practically sucked the life out of him. 
If he focused, he could almost hear you responding to him. Keening at both his praises and degradation. Saying filthy things right back to him.
“Fuck! Feels so good, baby. Always take my cock so fucking well. Can't wait to have you back in my arms. Can't wait to fuck you for real the second you are home. Miss you so much.”
He felt the heat of his climax building and his balls pulling tighter. Whimpering as he bit your pillow. Imagining he was biting and marking the soft, warm flesh on your neck. His flesh starting to tingle, and sweat starting to form on his brow. His hips thrusting so hard and fast the mattress was creaking. His needy groans and the wet suction of toy echoing through the room.
“Gonna cum, babydoll. Fuck, gonna cum so hard for you!” 
Bucky thought his soul might actually leave his body with how hard he came. Spurt after spurt of his warm release filling the toy. A faint thought in the back of his mind about the possibility the toy might start to overflow. 
Slowly his orgasm faded to electric aftershocks of pleasure. His breath still coming in gasps. His cock starting to soften, still nestled in the warm silicone that suddenly felt nowhere near as comforting as being inside of you. Even if it could give him an incredible orgasm, he was well aware that it wouldn't provide the loving and intimate aftercare that you always gave him. Snuggling his face into your pillow once again, he smiled as he thought about when he would get to hold you in post-coital bliss again.
When he finally caught his breath, he looked back to where he had dropped his phone earlier. The video had ended. Frozen on a closeup of your face with the most wicked smile on your face and the mischievous twinkle in your eyes, he knew so well. He wondered if you were missing him.
He hopes you are missing him, because fuck is he missing you; and your gift only  made him miss you more. He was sure he was addicted to you.
After going to shower and cleaning himself up, along with cleaning the toy, he noticed the light on his phone blinking. Reaching for it once he was settled back down in bed. Frankly, he felt exhausted after trying out your present. Flicking on the screen, he saw that there was a new text message. It was from you. It was an emoji of a smiling Devil followed only by three words.
Enjoying your gift?
--------------------------------
Back to main Kinktober 2023 masterlist
Back to main masterlist
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sockmeat · 2 months
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okay soo requesting for lucifer, cause man is such a sad boy. Okay, idk how these things works I never done like a request so bare with me. So like Lucifer is introducing us (y/n??) to Charlie, you know like were dating her dad lol. And he gets all nervous, and we're like super calm, chill and getting along with Charlie but Lucifer is just a hot mess of anxiety lol
                                                        𓆩♡𓆪
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✼__________________________________________________________✼
𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞... (𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)
(𝐰𝐜): 490
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a long time of you being with Lucifer, you finally get the opportunity to meet his daughter, Charlie.
(𝐀/𝐍): Wow i'm going off rn go me
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Lucifer is a wreck
                                                        𓆩♡𓆪
♡ You were the one to offer to meet Charlie.
♡ You specifically brought it up after he got Charlie the meeting with Adam. You would've done it before, but they hadn't talked for so long before that point, that you felt it wouldn't be right to bring it up.
♡ But, since Lucifer is warming up to the idea of getting close to Charlie again, you sat him down and asked if you could meet her.
♡ You figured since he thinks of Charlie so highly, and she's his daughter, it would only be right for you to meet her.
♡ But Lucifer was terrified of the idea.
♡ He couldn't think of a solid reason, but he was just so damn nervous, he was too scatterbrained to think of something.
♡ He was just thinking of everything that could go wrong instead of what could actually happen.
♡ Thankfully, you've been with Lucifer long enough that you knew how to handle him when he got like this.
♡ You cracked him until he came to the conclusion that he was just terrified Charlie wouldn't approve of your relationship.
♡ You weren't nervous at all, though.
♡ Lucifer would talk about Charlie all the time, you were confident she wouldn't be so quick to judge and deny you on the first meeting.
♡ It was a few days of Lucifer sitting on the idea before Charlie called to ask him to visit the hotel.
♡ Lucifer was excited about finally getting to see his daughter again and you were excited because you could finally meet her!
♡ Surprisingly, Lucifer was the one to bring it up, by walking you out the door himself and talking about how excited he was.
♡ But that excitement quickly turned into nerves, in typical Lucifer fashion.
♡ You were able to successfully keep his nerves controlled until you were finally at the Hotel and Charlie let you in.
♡ Lucifer first turned his attention to Keekee, then Razzle and Dazzle, before he ran out of things to stall with.
♡ Charlie introduced Vaggie to Lucifer as her girlfriend and that's when Lucifer saw an opening and pushed through.
♡ It wasn't as smooth as he had hoped, but he nearly melted into his boots when you took over and introduced yourself to everyone in the hotel.
♡ He was even more relieved when you and Charlie hit it off without a hitch.
♡ You both talked passionately about her Hazbin Hotel project, with you being interested and her being eager to tell someone about it.
♡ Lucifer was very happy to see his two favorite people getting along so well, even when Alastor was taunting him and trying to get under his skin.
♡ With the way you and Charlie bonded, there was no denying that this wouldn't be the last time you would meet, and you would definitely bring Lucifer with you.
                                                        𓆩♡𓆪
2K notes · View notes
milky-aeons · 23 days
Text
'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
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ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.
warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k
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ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔
: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.
Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"
: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.
: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.
: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;
"You — are absolutely breath-taking."
: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.
"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."
: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.
𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .
"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"
Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.
"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.
And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.
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ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎
: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.
: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!
: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.
: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.
"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."
: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.
: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.
"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."
: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.
𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .
"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.
Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.
But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;
"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"
Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.
"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.
He grunted. "Same... thing."
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ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀
: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.
: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!
Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?
: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.
: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.
: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.
𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .
"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.
"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"
"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.
And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.
"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."
Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."
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ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀
: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.
: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.
: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.
: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;
"There you are, my wife."
: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.
: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.
: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.
𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .
"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."
"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."
Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.
He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.
"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."
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ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘
: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.
: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.
"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.
: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;
"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."
: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.
: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.
𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .
"Fyodor?"
"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.
"Why did you ask to marry me?"
Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.
Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."
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✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!
WRITING REQUESTS
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libraryofgage · 5 months
Text
Good Vibrations Two
This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!
Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.
Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)
----
Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?
You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.
The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.
Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.
It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."
"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"
Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.
Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.
Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."
After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."
And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.
Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"
Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.
He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.
He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.
"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"
"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."
Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.
"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."
----
The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.
She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."
"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.
"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."
With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.
"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."
The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.
Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.
He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.
When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"
"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.
"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."
With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.
Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.
His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.
Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.
A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:
"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone
Guy: Fuck off, Munson
Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"
Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.
When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.
"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."
Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.
In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.
And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.
So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.
And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.
Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.
It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.
He's hopeless.
He's desperate.
He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.
----
For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.
So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.
As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.
"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.
Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.
"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.
"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."
Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.
Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.
"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?
Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."
Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.
It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.
"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.
And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.
Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."
There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.
Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"
Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.
Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?
Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.
----
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garcavisconde · 1 year
Text
Humans could have never guessed that, in the far future, they would need to cover their faces with fancy masks in order to not scare other species.
It’s so strange, isn’t it? To think that fragiles humans could give so much fear to others that they have to cover their most human features. There’s species that look so much scarier than you - things that float, things with sharp razor teeth -, but you are the only ones that need to cover yourselves.
Everyone, however, seems to be terrified of humans. Their small teeth, single pair of eyes, weird-shaped nose... Separated, those things don’t scare anyone. But together, and combined with the bipedal shape and weird claws humans refer to as “nails”?
No one can look at all of this combined without wanting to run away.
Humans have found this to be strange, but they quickly got used to it. They made fancy masks, experimented with cloths, made new fashion trends to they could adapt to their new alien friends.There were laws regarding what humans should hide from others, too. They all varied from planet to planet, but were always there.
The earthlings wanted an explanation. Why were they the only ones who had to do it? Why just them? Why not others? Why?
They researched for a long time. Libraries, databases, rumours all across the Universe. Some even tried to contact spirits via an Ouija board in order to get some answers! It obviously didn’t work, and that story should be left for another day, but, eventually, an answer was... Almost found.
It was apparent that every single alien culture had a myth about the death of the Galaxy. A war so big and outrageous that it killed almost everything - and what was left either died, or was locked away for someone to find. And you know what one of the things that was left looked like?
Descriptions always referred to it as “bipedal, furless and scaleless, with two things that could see, two to smell, and another to consume”. The world’s first universal boogeyman! A little thing to scare children off.
Humans, however, didn’t know what to do with that information. Sure, they matched the description, but so many species also matched each other’s descriptions of monsters! Why would they be any different?
...
...
...
But you don’t care, do you?
You are a human from the 21st century. You are almost ashamed of how soft you are. How your insides break so easily, how all it takes is a single conflict for you to go to the hospital. You go to your little friends and talk about how fragile you are. “Look at me!”, you say, and you just don’t care. “Look at this scar I got!”
Stupid human. You are one of the few that can survive so many scars. Stupid, foolish human, who forgot that your parameters of survival were made inside a death world.
But you don’t care, do you? You will finish reading this. You will think of this as fun. You will forget.
Stupid. Foolish. Naive. Little. Human.
Born inside a death world, raised to hate, made to protect.
Earth was the prison someone made to contain you. And you grew to love it. You grew to care for it. You grew to become a part of it. And then you tried to get away from it, to distance yourselves from the nature that you broke your bodies to become a part of, because suddenly you felt all too good for it. And then you killed it.
But you were scared, weren’t you? You were soooo scared of killing your own little prison. You were so terrified for it. You replaced your claws with nails and your canines with fragile teeth and your eyes with souls to become a part of it. The prison made trees and changed its shape so it could be a part of you. And you were so scared of that sudden acceptance, weren’t you? Earth loved you, but all you wanted was to be alone.
So. You killed it.
And then you felt even worse. Because your species was made to be social, and the planet became a part of your stupid little pack, and now that there wasn’t anyone else to worry for, you began to worry about yourselves, and realized that your destiny was to die on this miserable wasteland all alone because you were too afraid to lose something you loved.
There’s acid on your stomachs, electricity on your bodies and blood on your veins. Things that kill. You were made to kill. Not care. Kill.
And you just had to kill the only part of you that didn’t feel remorse. You just had to do it, didn’t you? You killed it and ate it raw because you were starving, and then your little minds crumbled down in shame because now you could think clearly.
You rebuilt Earth. Made it love you again. Centuries of trying to do better, that’s what you did. Centuries of going to other planets and making them love you just like your home does, but you were small and stupid and did not realize that your parameters of living were based on a deathworld that hated you first before realizing you were a monster that was thrown away to die.
Everyone knows what you did. Everyone knows what you were. A monster, a weapon that killed the galaxy before being found and thrown away to the most lonely deathworld this Universe has ever seen.
And you just had to kill the part of you that made you hate the world, didn’t you?
Just like you simply had to kill the part of Earth that despised you.
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lovelyhan · 1 year
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— again and again ⟢
pairing: mingyu x reader
summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.
word count: 15.7k words
tags: exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut
warnings: medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets), mentions of snake bites, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)
notes: i wrote this with bss' 7pm on loop for two straight days. nothing like the sweet taste of yearning <3 this also wasn't extensively proofread, so if you spot a few mistakes, i implore you to ignore them EJWHJHSDF
this is part of the doting on you! series.
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smut tags: vanilla, mingyu is super whipped, praise kink, service top gyu, dirty talk, nicknames (babygirl, sweetheart, sweet thing), overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, creampie, heads up that the filth is at the very end tho
taglist: @cherrycheolie1995 - @ashkuuuu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @christinewithluv - @fancypoisonapple - @odetoyeonjun - @minnie-mouser22 - @etherealyoungk - @davoraciousreader - @mariondior - @hella-sirius - @coveyland - @marlow234 - @dobomiyeon - @belysusonrisa - @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @seoksoop - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @acgyu - @gae-uls - @pluviophile-xxx - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @yutadae - @smileyjimvn
additional notes: you might want to check your visibility settings if you can't be tagged!
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When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place. 
In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by. 
But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.
The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second. 
By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line. 
You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.
“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—
“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”
Well that’s news to you.
“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”
“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.” 
Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.
Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.
So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu. 
Until now.
“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”
Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.
“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”
“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”
“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”
The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”
“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”
There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan. 
“Five minutes past midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”
“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”
“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.” 
This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”
A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.
“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”
You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not. 
The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.
You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”
At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about. 
It’s just Mingyu after all.
“Okay, how about the guy who—”
“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”
He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”
“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”
“Yeah? I must be special then.”
Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. 
“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”
Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”
You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”
“Oh. Why? What for?”
You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.
“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”
Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.
“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”
…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”
“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”
“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?” 
You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”
Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.
“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”
“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”
Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared. 
Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…
“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”
“Hey—”
You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.
Right behind her desk, Chae looks up at you with a knowing look. You flash her a smile that silently pleads for her not to say a word, but your receptionist has always been on the frank side.
“Something’s telling me you’re still hung up on him, boss.”
Sighing, you push yourself back to your feet, tugging on the lapels of your crisp white coat. That might be true to some degree, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.
You and Mingyu live in two completely different worlds. It’s something that you both came to terms with when you broke up. You just had to accept the fact that there’s simply no efficient way to work around his busy schedules and the appointments you need to attend to at the clinic. 
It was the most unproblematic breakup you’ve ever had, and it’s with a famous idol. Who would’ve thought. 
“Anyway,” you tell Chae before nudging the door to the operating room open. “Care to help me look for the anesthetics? I can’t remember where I put them away last time…”
Your receptionist is most definitely judging you inside your head, but despite how straightforward she can be, Chae still knows when to drop it. After a few clicks on the clinic’s desktop computer, she joins you on the hunt for that pesky bottle of anesthesia without asking any intrusive questions.
You make a mental note to treat her to some coffee tomorrow.
One of the reasons you seldomly paid your hometown a visit is the hassle that comes with the entire commute.
First you have to endure the long queue to get tickets before sitting through an eight-hour train ride to the seaside town of Haenam. Then comes navigating the local bus routes and schedules that always seem to change every time you go home. 
When you made it out of the train station for this year’s Chuseok celebration, you didn’t even bother stressing yourself out with taking the bus back to your parents’ house—flagging down a taxi that definitely charged you a ridiculous rate in exchange for your utmost comfort instead. 
You try not to think about how easier it was last Christmas, when you and Mingyu took turns driving one of his company’s cars on the way here—laughing and singing along to their songs on the road like nothing else mattered.
The scent of salt hangs heavy in the breeze when you unload your baggage from the trunk of the taxi. You had the foresight to make the trip before midnight, so you’re rewarded with the sight of the sunrise breaking through the nearby ocean—light glittering across the horizon like it means to say welcome home. 
That’s what you should feel; like you’re at home. But the fact that you’re about to bring some disappointing news to the table regarding your breakup with Mingyu isn’t doing your peace of mind any favors. 
You contemplated coming clean about it to your parents over a phone call, but it seemed too…impersonal with how attached they’ve gotten to your ex-boyfriend. Having a significant other that your family absolutely adores seems like a double-edged sword now that you think about it.
Once the cab hits the road again, you stand in front of your family home with a wistful sigh. It’s barely past seven in the morning, but your father must already be at the pier—sorting out today’s catch with the other fishermen in town.
Your mother loves taking walks in the market even if she doesn’t have anything in particular to purchase for the day. They’re early risers by default. 
You can’t really say the same for your younger brother, Haneul, though. That one likes to sleep until noon. 
When you ring the doorbell outside, you expect to hear the sound of excited barking from the other side of the gate. Namja was always the first to welcome you back whenever you’re in town, and just thinking about reuniting with him quells your anxiousness a little. But surprisingly, you don’t hear the telltale noise of your family dog’s excitement. 
What you do hear is the sound of the screen door opening and slamming back shut—slippers being hastily slid on before the gate creaks open, revealing Haneul still sporting a bedhead as he rubs his eyes.
“You’re back,” he says a-matter-of-factly, like he isn’t even thrilled to see you, but you’re too surprised to see him up so early to quip about it. “Mom said you wouldn’t arrive until noon.”
“I wanted to make the most of my vacation leave,” you explain before looking around the garden inside. “Where’s Namja? Did Mom take him for a walk, too?”
Haneul hums before taking your luggage. “Hm. You can say that.”
“What does that even mean?”
As if on cue, your ears perk up at the sound of a familiar bark resounding from the end of the road. You quickly whip your head around to see your beloved golden retriever, Namja, wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you before letting out another woof when you call out his name in glee.
However, the moment you realize who’s holding his leash, you suddenly feel like you got struck by lightning.
It’s Kim fucking Mingyu.
The sight of your ex-boyfriend just...standing there when he told you he was on the other side of the world sends a million thoughts surging through your head all at once.
You try not to think about how gorgeous he looks in the early morning light. Loose, long sleeved shirt that still emphasizes his muscular build despite. Hair having grown past his chin, curling slightly at the tips. And those stupid fucking canines that peek from his lips every time he grins. 
The bastard is just standing there with zero disguises, as if his existence in this place, at this point in time, doesn't throw a wrench in all of your plans.
What the hell is he even doing here?!
“Oh, sweetie, you’re back!”
The sound of your mother’s voice is, thankfully, enough to snap you out of your impending mental breakdown. You were so taken aback by Mingyu’s presence that you didn’t notice her standing next to him, carrying the bag she usually brings for her early market visits as she flashes you a warm smile. 
You can only stand there in shocked silence as your mother makes her way back to the house with your dog and ex-boyfriend in tow. Haneul was already inside, so you can’t exactly glare at him for not giving you a head’s up. But given that you still have no idea what on earth is going on, you’ll play along. For now.
“Are you surprised?” your mother giggles before patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “Mingyu here said he got off work for a while so he could celebrate with us!”
“Gee, I didn’t know about that,” you say dryly, unsure of what expression you should even wear. “I thought he was going to be in New York until next month.”
She laughs again. “Oh, he told me and your father to keep it a secret that he’s going back to Korea anyways. Seems like the surprise worked, didn’t it, Mingyu-ah?”
The culprit himself agrees with a minute nod before loosening his grip on Namja’s leash. 
Your goldie immediately bounds towards you at the first sign of freedom, bracing his paws on your stomach as he attempts to lick your neck. It’s enough to distract you from the current predicament at hand, making you sigh in defeat as you sink to your knees and receive Namja’s slobbery affection in its entirety. 
As you snuggle up to the family dog, Mingyu says, “What can I say? I missed Haenam a lot. The scenery, the family, Namja, but of course…”
You can only sit there in growing disbelief as Mingyu mirrors your movements. He crouches low enough so that your gazes are leveled before caressing your face with a tenderness that’s both familiar and foreign at the same time. 
“I missed her the most.”
This is all a charade—that’s what you can confirm from the limited clues he’s dropping for you to pick up on. You can try to figure out why he’s suddenly here in your hometown—having arrived earlier than you, from the looks of it—a little later.
What’s important is that Mingyu, ever-so helpful, is actually playing along with the act you not-so-jokingly told him about on the phone.
You should be glad. 
…But why do those words make your heart ache anyways?
“Of course you do,” you sigh before peeling yourself away from his touch, carrying Namja in your arms as if he doesn’t easily weigh thirty kilograms. “Come on. Let’s get back inside and help Mom prepare whatever she’s planning on cooking for lunch.”
Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter despite your obvious dismissal of his affection. You remind yourself that he’s racked up a lot of acting gigs throughout his career, so it’s normal for him to be a natural at this. 
But even if you know that this is all an act, you can’t help the way your heart lurches when Mingyu scoops Namja out of your grasp—the mere brush of his skin on yours more electrifying than it should be.
Namja whines in your ex’s arms, pawing at his chest before licking a long stripe across his cheek. Mingyu bursts out laughing as he coos at him, and your chest burns with an indescribable feeling.
A few moments later, your mother starts gushing about how excited she is to have both of you in the kitchen with her again as she leads you back inside the house. But all that rings in your head is a broken mantra of Mingyu saying I missed her the most.
As if repeating the words enough times will make them come true.
...
It’s one thing to know that Mingyu is in Haenam when he’s supposed to be overseas.
It’s another thing to see his usual overnight bag at the foot of your unmade bed, making you realize that he definitely came here much earlier than you anticipated.
Mingyu is currently in the kitchen, helping your mother out with lunch prep while she insists that you get some sleep first. Though the trains that led to the southern provinces were designed to be more comfortable than the ones contained in Seoul, nothing defeats the comfort of your old childhood bed. 
Except when you’re made aware of the fact that your ex-boyfriend probably slept in it after making the trip all the way here. 
The sheets even smell like him. A hint of that expensive fragrance he never seems to get tired of laces your pillows, and warmth rushes to your face when you realize you’re breathing it in a bit too much. 
So what if Mingyu slept here, right? Your parents’ house doesn’t have a guest room, and this was probably the only room available.
Oh, and in your family’s eyes, Mingyu is still your boyfriend. There shouldn’t be anything weird about your boyfriend, who went out of his way to quote-unquote surprise you, sleeping in your room, on your bed, without your knowledge.
And there definitely isn’t an issue with having to sleep next to him on said bed come nightfall.
You totally got this.
An attempt to dissuade all these intrusive thoughts is made as you unload the contents of your luggage into your old cabinet. It works for a while because all the old clothes you still kept tickled some memories from way back in high school, when becoming a vet was nothing but a pipe dream you came up with after Namja became sick on the day of his first birthday. 
In fact, as you look around further, you’re reminded of just how much time has passed since you moved out. The paint on the walls is starting to chip, and the floorboards creakier than you remember. Even the bed that was too spacious for your liking seems to shrink when you imagine Mingyu sprawled all over it with a blanket thrown over his large form. 
But when you recall how you two somehow made the sleeping arrangement work last Christmas, you figure that there isn’t much to worry about.
Aside from the fact that you’re not together anymore. Fuck.
“Hey. Are you awake?”
You jolt at the sound of a soft voice coming from the door. Mingyu’s handsome face peeks from the crack before he opens it all the way, lips pressed together in a hesitant smile.
“Your mom asked if I could fetch your father at the pier in a few,” he says. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to get some sleep first?”
“Do I want to—” you cut yourself off, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Mingyu, what I want is for you to explain what you’re doing here.”
He cranes his head. “You said you needed help.”
“Yeah, but I was going to be honest about the breakup anyway!” you whisper, not wanting to attract unwanted attention from outside. God knows this house has paper-thin walls. “But then you’re suddenly here, cozying up to my family like we haven’t been ignoring each other for months already.”
“Hey, I’d never ignore you.” Mingyu pouts. “I even picked up when you called me at ass o’clock in the morning, remember? If someone’s ignoring anyone here, it’s you, sweetheart.”
You hate how you bristle at that little pet name. Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice how you react to it, so you steel yourself instead—refusing to give into his unintentional charms. “That’s not the point and you know it, Mingyu. You can’t blame me for reacting this way when you told me that you wouldn’t be able to help me out.”
“But I’m here, right? I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, but I might have been overestimating myself.”
You are. You are happy to see him. 
But having to live with the knowledge that Mingyu is right here, close enough for you to touch, yet can’t because your relationship has long expired? 
You weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’ll ever be.
“Look,” he starts with a tone that’s meant to placate you, “you were right about not wanting to ruin the holidays with the breakup. I’m just here to help you out since you’re obviously not ready to break the news to your family. It’s not a big deal.”
You scowl at him. “Mingyu, it is a big deal. You are literally an idol with a packed fucking schedule. You can’t just play house with me here when you’re expected to be somewhere else.”
Mingyu shakes his head. “Listen to me first, okay? We were all given the weekend off because of Chuseok on short notice. You don’t have to worry about you unknowingly stealing me away from work because there is no work. Besides, I told you I’d still be here when you need me, right?”
How can he say all that with a straight face? Like he still thinks of you as anything but an old flame that’s long been snuffed out?
The problem with Mingyu is that he’s too earnest for his own good. Always wearing a spectrum of emotions on his sleeve. Always so honest about what he feels about certain things. It’s so fucking difficult to stand your ground against someone who’s nothing but forthcoming about every aspect of his life. 
But it’s not like you could ever resist him to begin with, right?
“Fine,” you grumble. “Give me a few minutes to prep. I don’t want to go out in the docks wearing this many layers anyways.”
You hate how your chest warms when Mingyu’s eyes light up at that. Fight back, maybe?!
He looks like he’s about to say something when an abrupt knock disturbs the quiet atmosphere of your room. From how annoyingly long it lasts, you single out your younger brother as the perpetrator.
“You better not be making your firstborn in there,” Haneul drawls from the other side. 
Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile before cupping the sides of his hands over his mouth. “We might be making our second born for all you know.”
You won’t survive this weekend. You really won’t.
“Remember when we used to eat ice cream by the Han River?” 
You flash Mingyu a perplexed look as you climb out of the car he used to drive all the way to your hometown. It’s a mystery how his manager allows him to go places with their company car with no supervision, but it’s not like Mingyu has done anything in the past to warrant that kind of surveillance anyway.
Besides, if he’s spending the entirety of Chuseok with a bunch of bodyguards lingering around your house, you might actually force him to go back to Seoul altogether.
“Why’d you bring it up?” you ask. “I thought you didn’t like those kinds of dates ‘cause you had to amp up the disguises and everything.”
Mingyu pockets the keys to the car before leaning against the metal railings installed along the pier. Your father is yet to show up at your rendezvous point, so you figure it wouldn’t do anyone harm to entertain Mingyu’s attempt at small talk. 
“Hmm. While I did prefer just cuddling in the dorms and at your place, it always felt a little different whenever we went out together,” he muses, the wind tossing his hair around slightly before turning to look at you. “How about you? Do you have any favorite date of ours in particular?”
You sigh, unsure why he’s even asking you all of this. Yet you indulge him anyway with, “I don’t think it classifies as a ‘date’, but I kinda liked it whenever you hung out with me in the clinic while I tended to some patients. Even if your presence there is an occupational hazard in itself.”
He snickers to himself, and you know damn well he still remembers the flock of fangirls that ran into him in the waiting room when Mingyu paid you a visit out of boredom. Thankfully, they were the respectful kind, and promised not to divulge information about Mingyu’s whereabouts whenever they catch him at your clinic.
“The dogs are always happy to see me,” he chuckles. “The cats, not so much. Oh, but remember when someone brought in their pet snake? I think that one had a crush on me.”
You do, in fact, remember the day Mingyu got bitten by a boa constrictor named Yujin. Her owner is one of your regulars, since other vets in the city don’t have reptiles under their area of expertise. Yujin hasn’t bitten anyone since she first came for a checkup, so you figure that Mingyu must have done something pretty stupid to provoke the aggression. 
“You better be glad constrictor bites aren’t venomous,” you point out with an airy laugh. “Not even a true love’s kiss can cure a venomous snake bite.” 
“It can cure a handful of other things though.”
You turn to glance at Mingyu with a miffed look at his attempt at smooth-talk. He’s always been this way, so it doesn’t particularly faze you. But it still feels surreal to be talking with him right next to the open sea in your hometown as you both wait for your father to arrive.
“I never really got to ask,” you murmur, eyes still trained on a flock of seagulls huddling together near the docks. “How are you? You’re not burning yourself out again, are you?”
You don’t see it, but Mingyu smiles to himself. “It’s in our job description to push ourselves past the limit, you know. But…honestly? It’s been pretty lonely.”
You make a face at that. “Lonely? You’re literally with twelve other guys, like, eighty percent of the time. How does it ever get lonely?”
Mingyu hums before leaning further over the railing. He looks up at the clear blue sky, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, and for a moment, you’re a bit taken aback by how breathtaking he looks under the spill of morning sunlight. 
“You can still get lonely in the middle of all the noise,” he murmurs. “That’s why I was kind of glad I got to go back here for a while. I know I said I meant to help you out, but there might’ve been some selfish reasoning behind the choice, too.”
Your gaze softens at his words. Mingyu is one of the most intensely passionate members of their group, so it’s not hard to believe that he’s also one of those that ends up feeling this way. You remember having a similar conversation with him during a quiet night in your apartment, limbs tangled together under the sheets as he wonders if your lives would be different if he wasn’t an idol.
But of course, it’s your job to remind him that, even if it could become exhausting at times, he once dreamed of being where he is now. 
“They probably miss you already,” you say. “Don’t you guys usually film content for Chuseok?”
“Yeah, but all of that’s prerecorded. They’re all with their families right now, too.” 
“Really? What are you doing here then?” you tease.
Mingyu tilts his head to the side, lips curved into a lopsided smile that reminds you how it felt to catch feelings for him the first time.
“Who ever said you aren’t family?”
Unfair. He’s being so fucking unfair right now.
But you can’t even think about pushing him into the sea because your father has already made his entrance, waving at the two of you despite his hands being full of fishing paraphernalia. 
He sulks about how it took you so long to go back home, and you had to explain that things have been extra hectic at your clinic, especially when you inevitably earned the reputation of being ‘SEVENTEEN Mingyu and Seungkwan’s trusted veterinarian’ despite neither of them having dropped by since the breakup.
You don’t tell them that last part though. The last thing you need is for Mingyu to have something to gloat about.
“It’s a miracle how those nasty paparazzi folks from Dispatch haven’t caught on yet,” your dad says before climbing into the backseat of Mingyu’s company car. “Unless you’re already in cahoots with them? Remember, Kim Mingyu, leave my daughter out of any celebrity gossip! She’s already built a good name for herself.” 
A throaty laugh rumbles in Mingyu’s chest as he pulls out into the street. “You don’t have to worry about that, sir. Protecting her has always been my top priority.”
Your father nods, seemingly pleased with his response. “Damn straight.” 
You don’t express any outward reaction to what Mingyu just told your dad, but you don’t resist when he reaches for your hand over the center console. 
The moment you he squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back. 
The rest of the day is packed with preparing lunch and dinner options for your other relatives in town. Having Mingyu on board is an undeniable asset, since the man knows his way around the kitchen even better than you do. It’s a little endearing to think that, even if it’s the first time he’s meeting your aunts and uncles and cousins, his personality makes him fit right in. 
Turns out, one of your cousins’ daughters is a huge fan, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Kim Mingyu smoking fish in the backyard of your parents’ house. She made him promise to sign one of her photocards before they leave—a request that your ex is all too happy to oblige. 
By dinnertime, most of the guests have already left, and it’s just you, Mingyu, and Haneul sharing the rice wine Mingyu brought for the occasion, with your parents having already retired for the night. You didn’t even tell him that your Mom wanted another taste of it, yet he delivered anyway. 
“How are you guys doing it?” Haneul whines, a bit red in the face since he’s already had a few beers before your cousins all left. “When my ex-girlfriend moved to another city, it only took two weeks for us to break up. Long distance is the bane of everyone’s existence.”
“Everyone but ours,” Mingyu says before clinking his glass with yours. “You just have to communicate with each other constantly. If you’re honest about everything both of you are feeling, then it’ll be easier to work things out together.”
It’s so easy for him to say these kinds of things. As if your relationship didn’t go to ruin because of the long distance that always kept the two of you apart. You feel a bit bad for having Mingyu lie to your brother right in his face, but you tell yourself that you’re already here anyway. 
You’ll just have to fake it until you make it.
“But what if the other party doesn’t want to talk about it?” Haneul sighs, tracing the rim of his own glass with his finger. “I wanted to make it work. I really did. But she… She didn’t even want to try anymore. Lost faith in us so quickly, I could hardly believe she even loved me.”
You know Haneul is just drunkenly rambling about his grievances with his ex. He called you about it a few years ago, long before you even met Mingyu, and you consoled him by saying that his ex-girlfriend never deserved his love in the first place.
But even if you know the circumstances that led to your split with Mingyu are completely different, you can’t help but find similarities between the stories. 
You broke up with Mingyu on the first day of spring. When the snow was just beginning to thaw, and the wind started to bring in a warmer climate. They’d just gone back from tour, and you know you’re not the only one feeling the tightly-wound strings of your relationship beginning to fray at the seams. 
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I don’t think we’re going to work, Gyu,” you murmured, not having the guts to meet his eyes. “I think it’s best if we just focused on our careers.”
You thought he’d throw a fit. Or at least ask you a bunch of questions. Did he do something wrong? Is he not enough? Yet Mingyu simply flashed you a sad smile before nodding right back at you.
“Okay,” he said with a kind of resignation that breaks your heart to hear. “Thank you for being with me all this time.”
In the present, Mingyu shifts beside you on the table—abruptly startling you out of that impromptu trip down memory lane. 
“Then, you’ll just have to take it in stride, Haneul-ah,” he murmurs before throwing back the rest of his drink. Mingyu manages a tight-lipped smile that pains you to look at. “If you really love her, you’ll respect whatever choice she’s come to make in the end. Even if that choice doesn’t involve you anymore. Even if it hurts to see her walk away after everything you’ve built together.”
When Mingyu turns to look at you, you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth.
“It’s a good thing I never have to experience that with your sister, though. She loves me too much to let me go.”
Haneul huffs from across the table before rising to his feet. “You two are so in love it’s actually disgusting. You know what, let’s just go to sleep.”
Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in the middle of your bedroom as Mingyu gets ready to sleep. He seems to be talking to someone on the phone inside your bathroom, but you purposely decide not to listen in. It was probably his manager or one of the other boys checking in on him.
You don’t wait for him to finish when you climb under the sheets, leaving enough space for him to occupy on the mattress, should he decide to share it with you tonight. There’s also an extra blanket folded on his side of the bed, since Mingyu’s a notorious blanket hogger, and you’d rather not wrestle that six-foot hunk of muscle for warmth. 
Mingyu takes so long on that phone call of his that by the time he finishes, you’re already fast asleep, curled up while facing the wall so you wouldn’t have to face him. He chuckles, lingering just a few seconds longer by the doorframe of the bathroom. How long has it been since he’s last seen your face under the peaceful guise of slumber? 
It’s been too long, and he isn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to commit the sight into memory.
Sometime in the middle of the night, you’re rudely roused by the sudden drop in temperature.
It’s only the beginning of autumn, but you noticed that it’s a lot colder than usual. Even if you already have a cozy blanket draped right on top of you. You sigh, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable before realizing that you’re not exactly alone. 
Much like yourself, Mingyu is blinking out the drowsiness in his eyes as he turns to look at you with a question in his sleepy gaze. You shake your head in a wordless attempt to tell him not to worry. 
“You’ve been tossing and turning for thirty minutes now,” he says, and hearing his throaty voice in person doesn’t even compare to that phone call you shared a week ago. “What’s wrong?”
You sigh. “It’s cold, and it isn’t even winter yet.”
He looks at you for a while, as if thinking of what to say before he reaches out for you and tugs you into his arms. Even if you’re practically half-asleep, the sudden action kickstarts your brain into motion, and you struggle against his grip all while whispering, “What the hell are you doing?!”
“You told me back then I’m as good as a furnace on cold days,” he mumbles as he tucks you into his chest—making you hyper aware of every ridge of his toned chest through his shirt. “If it bothers you so much, just think of it as a favor from one friend to another. How’s that sound?”
Friend. You know that’s all that Mingyu is to you these days, and all you are to him, but even in this drowsy haze you’re in, the word still feels like an insult. A word meant to scorn the time you’ve spent as lovers. 
Just thinking about Mingyu as a friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, so instead of answering him, you cave and burrow yourself into his warmth—something that he seems pleased with, if the satisfied sound that rumbles in his chest is anything to go by. 
He holds you in his arms the same way he did last Christmas, but there’s an unfamiliar sense of possessiveness sinking uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You know you shouldn’t think of what he’s doing as anything but a favor between friends. You’re perfectly aware that, as the person who officially ended things between the both of you, you have no right to yearn for something you already gave up on.
But when Mingyu tilts your head up so you can meet his sleepy eyes, you don’t even put up a fight when he presses his lips to yours.
It doesn’t seem like he planned on doing anything beyond that. In fact, you don’t think he meant to do it at all. Just a heat-of-the-moment decision that the two of you could just forget about come morning. 
However, the moment he starts to pull away, you force a hand across the back of his head, crushing your lips back together as you hook one of your thighs across his hips. Mingyu groans into the kiss, large hands migrating to your waist as he reciprocates your newfound hunger like you knew he would. His touch leaves trails of fire tingling across your skin, and every time his canines graze your bottom lip, you quietly moan into his mouth.
This is stupid. You’re both being incredibly stupid. The walls are anything but soundproof, and your parents are sleeping just across the hall.
Yet you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Mingyu is making your body remember what it feels like to have him all over you like this.
You missed him. His heat. His touch. His kiss. Everything. You missed him so much that it hurts. You missed him so much that when Mingyu’s fingers start to glide along the exposed flesh of your thighs, you detach your lips from his before pushing him away.
You missed Kim Mingyu with the intensity of a dying star collapsing in on itself, of black holes tearing through reality, but this isn’t how you should go about it.
“Let’s…” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice to carry out your message. “Let’s just sleep.”
Mingyu doesn’t argue. He rarely does. But neither do you when he tugs you back in the caging embrace of his warmth. 
For the first time in weeks, you find yourself drifting off into undisturbed slumber.
The next morning, you’re set to go back to Seoul, and by some stroke of luck, so is Mingyu. Still, the two of you decide to stick around until lunch time—neither of you breathing a word about what just happened last night.
But while Mingyu starts to load both of your things into the trunk of his car, your mother asks you for a favor at the last minute.
“Can you bring Namja along with you back to the city?” she asks. “He’s been really listless before you and Mingyu arrived. Your father and I were starting to get worried, and figured you might have to do a check up first.”
You raise an eyebrow at her claim, not really noticing anything amiss about your retriever’s health, aside from the usual signs of age. He’s ten years old, turning eleven this year, so it isn’t such a mystery to see that Namja isn’t as hyperactive as he was as a puppy. But then again, your mother has spot-on intuition about all the strangest things, so you indulge her request in the end. 
Besides, having a pet of your own to keep you company doesn’t sound so bad.
Fortunately, Mingyu is more than hospitable when you ask if you could bring Namja along for the ride—promising that he’s car-trained, and won’t make a mess as long as you pull over from time to time. In fact, your ex seems more elated with the idea of your goldie joining the road trip than you are.
“I can come visit Namja in Seoul whenever I want now, right?” he asks with a soft laugh, and you wanted to reply with, Yeah, if you aren’t always so far away, that is, but choose not to. 
The two of you take shifts in driving as usual. Whoever isn’t behind the wheel is in charge of entertaining Namja in the backseat so he wouldn’t end up whining for attention the whole drive back. It’s a setup that you’re pretty okay with, since it minimizes any sort of window for you and Mingyu to have a conversation. God knows you’re not exactly ready to talk about…whatever happened last night. 
So instead, you ask him about a bunch of trivial things so he doesn’t get any ideas.
“You sure your manager is okay with you returning the car while it reeks of Namja?” you laugh before switching lanes on the freeway. “He might not take the news that he sheds very lightly.” 
Mingyu chuckles before scratching behind Namja’s ears. “I promised I’d have it cleaned before I returned it to the office building. Don’t worry about it.”
“Hm. Whatever you say.”
By your third stop-over, you decide to give Namja some food and water while Mingyu gets takeout for the both of you at a nearby fast food chain. You stretch out your limbs while your retriever happily laps from his water bowl, wondering how much longer it’s going to take before you reach Seoul. 
Before you have to part ways with Mingyu again.
You’re startled out of your train of thought when you see Mingyu practically sprinting back to the car, his sunglasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. Namja glances up at him quizzically, and you have to stifle a laugh.
“Yeah, a bunch of fans spotted me in line, so we might have to get food back in the city instead,” he explains hurriedly as he helps tidy up Namja’s food and water bowls. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”
After his meal, Namja is sated and sleepy—content with resting his head on your thigh as you watch the streetlights blur past the windows. Mingyu is a much faster driver than you are, so he’s able to cut the travel time shorter than it would have been had it been you behind the wheel. But the lack of anything to do has you quietly staring at Mingyu from the backseat while his eyes are glued to the road.
You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his strong arms, and the fact that you were tucked safely between them the night prior. But that’s your first mistake because now, you’re thinking about those desperate kisses you shared in the privacy of your room. Touching each other like you both feared the other would disappear if you didn’t pull them close enough.
You shake your head. No. This isn’t how friends should think about each other. 
Whatever happened back in Haenam, you’re just going to have to leave it there.
It’s already past eight in the evening when Mingyu eases the car into your neighborhood, and you try not to think much of the fact that he still knows where you live. 
“Guess that concludes our weekend getaway,” Mingyu says the moment he finishes helping you carry your stuff back inside your apartment. “Though it seems that someone’s getting pretty cozy really quickly.”
Namja is already familiarizing himself with his new home, wandering around the living room all while sniffing everything in his path. You stifle a soft laugh.
“Yeah. I guess it is,” you murmur before managing a kind smile. “Thanks for having my back, Mingyu. It…means a lot. Really, it does.”
He laughs softly, eyes trailing around the living room with a curiosity that isn’t so different from Namja’s. “You have your first boyfriend with you now. I can rest easy knowing you’re in good company.”
Your face flushes at the thought that Mingyu still remembers the reasoning behind Namja’s namesake. Namjachingu. When he was still a puppy, you said Namja was your first boyfriend, and that you didn’t need anyone else. 
He lived up to his title for years, too—always acting hostile around past boyfriends that you did end up bringing to your parents’ house despite coming from a friendly breed. The only boyfriend that your first boyfriend seemed to approve of is the man standing right in front of you, just when you thought you would never see him again within the four corners of your house.
“You know,” Mingyu begins, hesitation crossing his face for a split second before he meets your eyes. “My family’s in Seoul for Chuseok, too. I told Minseo to bring Bobpul and Baptori, and you might want to schedule a little playdate between my kids and yours.” 
You raise an eyebrow. “Where’s Aji?”
“Too old to travel around,” he chuckles. “But I’m sure the other two can keep Namja company just fine. Join us tomorrow for dinner. What do you say?” 
You hesitate. This should’ve been where you drew the line. Mingyu has already helped you out of your initial predicament. You really shouldn’t create any more problems for yourself by joining his family for a late Chuseok dinner. In fact…
“What, you haven’t told your family that we split either?” you ask, half-jokingly, half-seriously.
“No, they know.” Mingyu shakes his head. “But they’ve always liked you too, so I see no harm in getting everyone to hang out in one place.”
You shoot him a pointed look. “You know this is just going to make things more complicated, right?”
When he flashes you that toothy grin, you already know that this is a losing battle. 
“It does, but it’s still going to be fun,” he says. “So, are you coming?” 
Sometimes, you wish you never met Mingyu at all. Maybe your life wouldn’t be so fucking difficult.
“Fine.”
The next day, you bring Namja to the clinic, and Chae is more than happy to see the brand new addition to the workforce. But while she’s giving your goldie more pets than he probably deserves, you ask if you have any clients coming this morning that called in advance.
“Oh, there’s this one guy who’s bringing in a maltese today,” she says, laughing a little when Namja whines at the fact that her attention is divided. “I think his name was… Seungkwan? Something like that. He has some records from last year, but he hasn’t been back since.”
Seungkwan’s coming today? Huh. Talk about coincidence.
You tell Chae about how Seungkwan and Mingyu belong to the same group, and your receptionist is adept enough to catch on to what you’re trying to say. She’s all too quick to suggest plans on how to mitigate the fans from flocking the entrance to the clinic, like that one time when Mingyu was too lax in disguising himself from anyone who could recognize him. 
But when Seungkwan arrives at your door, you remember that he’s one of the members that doesn’t particularly like being crowded by people, even if they are his fans.
He’s dressed discreetly—dark shades, a beanie, and a black face mask—while carrying an adorable pet carrier that’s probably worth half your monthly salary. Seungkwan is so straight-to-the-point with carrying out his business with you, that it’s hard to believe you and him used to joke around like old friends a year ago. 
But for some reason, when Chae excuses herself to answer a phone call, the façade he puts up falls apart in seconds.
“Noona, you have no idea how much I missed you!” he wails before throwing his arms around you. “Other vets just don’t cut it for Bookkeu! They’re always either too mean or too lax with her. You handled her just right today. Can’t believe Mingyu-hyung always calls you her worst enemy.”
You chuckle before patting his back, and Seungkwan pulls away with a pout on his face. “Hey, you guys are the ones who ghosted me after Mingyu and I broke up. You’re always welcome to come back to have your pets checked—non-showbiz girlfriend or not.” 
“That hyung of mine is stupid,” Seungkwan scoffs as he scoops Bookkeu into his arms. “Well, you’re kind of the same way, but I can’t exactly call you stupid or you might take it out on Bookkeu—”
“I would do no such thing, Seungkwan-ah,” you complain. 
“Okay, it’s just my personal opinion that maybe you two didn’t have to split up at all,” he huffs. “Mingyu-hyung has become more and more listless since you broke up with him. He might look like his usual self on camera, but when we’re not recording anything? He’s always so lost in thought! It gets on Coups-hyung’s nerves sometimes.”
Listless, huh… 
Your mother said the exact same thing about Namja. Speaking of, your gaze drifts over to your goldie who’s staring outside the door to your clinic, like he’s waiting for Chae to come back and shower him with attention again. 
Is Seungkwan insinuating that he and Mingyu aren’t so different?
“Maybe he’s just going through a blue period,” you suggest before writing up a prescription for the vitamins that Bookkeu will have to take for the next two weeks. “It’s been so long since we broke up. I doubt he’s acting that way because of me.”
Seungkwan breathes in deeply, like he’s just barely able to contain the urge to slap some sense into you. “Noona, listen to me. Kim Mingyu is catastrophically in love with you. When you called that night when we were sharing a hotel room in New York, it was the first time I saw him look so genuinely happy for reasons that aren’t related to our music. But that hyung of mine is too selfless for his own good.”
You startle a bit when he suddenly lifts Bookkeu closer to you and points her adorable face in your line of sight. 
“He wants you back, but he’ll never admit it, especially when you made your choice clear all those months ago,” Seungkwan says before pushing his maltese even closer to you. “But now, something tells me that you’re still hung up on him, just as much as he’s hung up on you—if all the things he told me about your trip to Haenam are true, that is.”
Huh. That time he took so long in the bathroom… He must’ve been talking to Seungkwan.
“Okay, but why does it feel like you’re using Bookkeu to threaten me into doing something?” You laugh softly. “Seungkwan, our time is up. And it’s not something we can just take back whenever we feel like it.”
“Wh—! Don’t you think things are only that way because both of you are making it more complicated than it should be?” He sighs, exasperated. “Also, yes I am using Bookkeu to threaten you. Promise that you’ll at least talk to Mingyu-hyung about this? We can’t stand seeing him so out of it anymore. Come on, you can’t resist those cute puppy eyes, right?”
You sigh, half-considering pointing out that Bookkeu is, by no means, a puppy anymore, but then again, you still call Namja that despite being more than a decade old.
“Alright, alright,” you relent. “I’m meeting his family tonight for dinner anyways. Might as well clear the air.”
Seungkwan gasps, a comical expression rooting itself on his face. “See! You’re having dinner with his family, too?! If you’re not back together by the time we fly back to the U.S., I'm never talking to either of you ever again.”
Now, it’s your turn to pout. “Who are you going to go to for Bookkeu’s check-ups then?”
He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again before letting out a petulant huff. You can’t help the snicker that bubbles in your chest as Seungkwan tilts his chin up with indignance. 
“Point taken,” he says before narrowing his eyes and pointing his index finger at you. “But I’m expecting Kim Mingyu to come back to the dorms later, happy and not heartbroken. Okay?” 
You raise your hands before handing him your written prescription. “No promises.”
When Chae returns inside the clinic, you physically have to hold Namja down just so she can give Seungkwan a receipt for today’s visit. Your mother was right, he definitely was growing lonely back in Haenam. You haven’t seen him this excited in years. 
Seungkwan bids you another, more formal goodbye, now that you're not alone anymore. He doesn’t need to reiterate what he asked of you out loud—the look in his eyes is already telling enough. 
Given that today is a bit of a slow day, you decide to run a few diagnostic tests on Namja just to confirm whether or not he’s silently carrying some sort of disease. But all his results came out normal, except for a clinically insignificant but still noticeable increase in his body sodium levels. Might have to cut down the treats for a few days. 
Otherwise, he’s happy and healthy ten—going eleven—years into his lifespan. The reason for his lethargy back home must have something to do with innate loneliness after all.
Then you remember what Seungkwan told you about Mingyu. How he hasn’t really been himself since the breakup. You never really felt that during your time together in your hometown. He’s still the effortless charmer that you once fell in love with. The big softie that can get along with anyone and everyone, given the right circumstances.
Mingyu has always been a people pleaser. The last thing he wants to do is inconvenience others. So it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s been so out of it that even Seungcheol is starting to get pissed with his behavior. 
The sound of Namja barking jolts you out of your thoughts before your goldie pads over to where you’re seated behind your desk, whining as he nuzzles your hands as if he knows you’re thinking a bit too hard about something distressful. You let out a quiet laugh, scratching behind his ears just like you know he likes.
“I wonder what I’m supposed to do,” you chuckle. “Maybe I should’ve been born as a dog instead. Thinking about all of this is giving me a headache.”
Namja growls before barking again. Like he doesn’t approve of the idea of not having you as his fur parent. You let out another laugh that’s a lot less quiet before you decide to pull out your phone and shoot Mingyu a text.
Are you picking me up later or not?
Dinner with Mingyu’s family is splendid
The outdoor restaurant his mother booked in advance probably serves the best songpyeon you’ve ever tasted in your life. Add that to the fact that they accommodate pets in their alfresco area, this could easily be one of the next places you’ll take your own parents for a meal when you bring them to Seoul for a quick getaway. 
Namja is a bit shy around other animals—a result of being around no one but your family for so long. But when Minseo introduces him to both Bobpul and Baptori at the same time, the two little rascals easily coaxed your senior citizen goldie out of his shell. Next thing you know, they’re running around the outdoor dining area like a bunch of energetic pups.
“Unnie, are you back together with this guy?” Minseo asks in the middle of dessert, pointing her spoon accusingly at Mingyu. “You can do so much better than him, though.”
Their father laughs at their youngest’s comment, and their mother rubs Mingyu’s back as if she agrees, yet still wishes to console her son regardless. Mingyu is simply scowling at his family for how quick they are to throw him under the bus.
“Shut up, you sound just like Seungkwan,” he whines. 
“Well, we’re both right.”
You let out a laugh of your own before scooping some ice cream into your mouth. Then, tentatively, you say, “Don’t say that. Gyu wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, you know?” 
“He’s always so busy though. Doesn’t even have time to come visit Bobpul and our other dogs anymore,” Minseo sulks. “He even missed my graduation! Can you believe it?”
Mingyu pouts. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” 
She huffs. “Not sorry enough!”
“Well, for starters, even if he is ridiculously busy, he still makes sure to call me before he goes to bed after a particularly tough schedule,” you say. “He also answers my calls even if our time zones are different, and it’s an ungodly hour where he currently is. Then when he finally comes back to Korea, he’ll give a bunch of gifts that reminded him of me on his trip overseas.”
You don’t know what compelled you to do so, but the words just gush out naturally. It was a little difficult the first time Mingyu had to hop on a plane to some other country to film some content with the boys, but you eventually got used to it, and managed to make a couple work-arounds.
Now that you think about it, if you were so used to it, why’d you decide it was best for you to part ways when he got back from tour? It’s been so long that you don’t even know the logic behind the reasoning anymore. You just remember feeling like it was the best decision at the time. And you were right—your careers have definitely thrived even after the breakup.
As you continue telling Minseo and their parents about how much of a catch the eldest son of the Kim family really is, you fail to notice the way Mingyu’s eyes never leave you the entire time. Soft, with just a hint of yearning that you’ll only be able to notice if you knew what you were looking for. 
“Ugh, fine,” Minseo huffs, and you don’t think she and Seungkwan are all that different from each other. “This is the first time I’ve seen a couple that’s broken up months ago talk about each other so fondly, still. You sure you two aren’t secretly dating again?”
“Minseo,” their mother scolds before flashing you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her. Minseo’s just been really snappy lately. Must be because she missed Mingyu here very much.”
She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll miss that credit-grabbing punk. He didn’t even acknowledge me in his latest Instagram post!”
“Speaking of dating again,” their father interjects before taking a sip of his wine. “Minseo’s right about one thing at least. You and Mingyu still have chemistry after so long. What’s stopping you from getting back together again?”
At your side, Mingyu flashes his father a cautionary look. “Dad, that’s a really inappropriate question, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies. This old man is really just…curious, so to speak.” 
He bows his head slightly, and you make a little gesture that insists you took no offense. But the inquiry definitely made you think for a moment.
It’s like everyone you know completely supports the idea of you and Mingyu just burying the hatchet and rekindling your relationship. But didn’t they consider the logistics of it? You’re a full-time vet and Mingyu’s a full-time idol that travels out of Korea at least once a month. Though you’re a bit unsure of it now, that still played a part in why you called it quits in the first place.
Even when Mingyu took it upon himself to drive you and Namja back to your apartment, his father’s question still lingers in the back of your mind. 
What’s stopping you from getting back together again? 
The answer is pretty simple, but it’s not something you’re ready to face just yet.
It’s you. You’re the only one keeping yourselves from reigniting what you once thought was already lost. Your guilt. Your regrets. Your fears. You didn’t need a verbal confirmation to know that Mingyu would drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant you’ll take him back again. But as much as your friends joke about how you deserve better than Mingyu, you’re convinced it’s the other way around.
Mingyu deserves someone who can reciprocate the love he’s so willing to give tenfold. Someone who doesn’t flake out when he needs them most. 
Someone who isn’t you.
When he pulls over a red light, he lets out a sigh as he checks the text messages that popped up on his phone. After a few scrolls he says, “Oh. Jeonghan-hyung texted about some party in Gangnam. Do you want to—”
“Gyu,” you whisper, eyes riveted on the busy street. “What are we doing?”
He blinks. “Celebrating Chuseok together?”
“But we’re friends right?” You laugh somewhat bitterly. “Friends don’t normally celebrate the entirety of their Chuseok weekend bonding with each other’s families. Friends don’t make out with each other in the middle of the night. And…”
You let out a shuddering sigh before adding, “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me.”
You can clearly hear the sound of his breath hitching even if you don’t turn to look at him. It seems like he was about to say something in return, but the stoplight turns green, and he’s back to pulling his focus on the road instead of you.
In the backseat, you can hear Namja whining—ever the empath, that one. You immediately feel him pawing against your seat, as if silently asking what’s wrong. Turning around, you give him a few reassuring pats, not wanting to get claw marks all over Mingyu’s borrowed car.
The two of you are completely silent as he walks you back to the front door of your apartment. You know he didn’t have to, yet he did anyway. How Mingyu of him.
When you finally muster the courage to look up at him and bid him good night, Mingyu grabs your wrist—forcing you to meet his desperate gaze. 
“If I told you I wanted you back, would anything change? No, right?” he whispers, voice tinged with so much emotion, you can feel your own heart ache at the sound of it. “So I’m sorry if I’m being selfish for inviting you to every place I could think of. If I want to spend as much time with you as I can because I know I won’t ever get the chance to do so if I let this pass.”
When he presses your foreheads together, the look in his eyes is so smoldering, you can’t bear to look away. This is what a man that’s been yearning for you for months looks like, it seems. 
And you don’t think you can keep resisting him for long.
“Before I get thrown back into that haywire of a schedule again,” he whispers, and you feel every breath fan across your skin, “can’t you at least let me have this? Let me have you?” 
You don’t even know who it is that lunges in for the kiss. The next thing you know, Mingyu has you pressed up against your front door, devouring your lips where all your neighbors can see. But you don’t care. Not when he’s desperately holding your body flush against his as you reclaim what’s always been yours.
He whispers a bunch of things along the column of your neck as he loosens the strings holding your dress together from behind. Some sweet, some endearing, and others a touch too filthy for others to hear aloud. You stifle your little gasps when he wraps a strong arm around your waist, nudging your thighs apart with his knees so you can feel the hardness straining against his middle.
“It’s you,” he murmurs against your feverish skin, teeth grazing across your flesh ever-so lightly. “It’s always been you. And it will always be you.” 
You know Mingyu is a good actor. But it’s so earth-shatteringly different to hear the raw desperation in his voice. How earnest he is in telling you just how much he still loves you without saying the words outright. You can only dream of being as honest with your true feelings as he is. 
But tonight, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting yourself fall.
In the midst of your mounting desire for each other, though, a lone whine in the night snaps both you and Mingyu out of your newfound vigor. You nearly forgot about Namja, who’s impatiently waiting for either of you to open the front door so he can finally take a nap. You glance at Mingyu, and he glances right back, before the two of you burst out laughing like a couple of teenagers without a care in the world.
Once you’ve gotten your needy retriever settled outside, Mingyu practically tosses you on the bed the moment the door to your room clicks shut—all too eager to cage you between his arms as he continues where you left off. 
The suit he wore tonight looked a bit too good on his frame, but now you want nothing more than to claw it off him. He chuckles, sensing your desperation as he shrugs off his coat and unbuttons his dress shirt along the way.
“I don’t remember you being this desperate for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning down to grasp your face as he strokes your heated skin with his thumb. “I can’t say I hate the development though.”
“Mingyu,” you whimper as you guide his thumb to your lips, suckling on it in a way that you know makes him lose his mind every time. “Please. I want you.” 
It’s so easy to be honest with yourself. You wonder why you’ve struggled with doing that for so long, but then you remember that your brain is fogged with desire for the man that’s currently staring you down like he’s doing everything in his power not to fuck you into the mattress right away. 
But at that moment, you throw all logic and caution in the wind in exchange for taking even more of Mingyu’s thick fingers into your mouth.
“So good for me,” he whispers when he sees you inch your knees apart to welcome him in between. The hand that’s not being fellated by your tongue finds its way to the apex of your thighs—cupping your clothed heat in a way that makes you moan around his fingers. “How badly do you want me, sweet thing?”
“So, so badly,” you manage to wrench out despite your mouth being full, rutting your hips to introduce some friction between your aching pussy and his hand. “Please, Gyu…”
When he’s satisfied, his free hand migrates to your thighs, spreading you further apart as he brings his lubricated fingers to your sopping core. There’s something so fucking hot in the way he just nudges your panties to the side—groaning when he finds you already soaked for him. 
“You need something to stretch out this pretty little pussy, don’t you?” he murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe just the way you like it. “You want my fingers or my cock, babygirl? Better choose wisely.”
You want to say that you’re too fucking horny for foreplay, but also remember that each time you had sex with Mingyu in the past, the stretch of his massive cock can be quite uncomfortable if he doesn’t prep you. With how long it’s been since you’ve laid in bed together, you don’t want to rush into it without thinking of the consequences after.
So, you mewl, “Fingers first. Then your cock.”
Mingyu laughs—a deep, sexy sound—before planting a kiss on your nose. “That’s my girl.”
He carefully eases one digit into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reactions. Part of you wishes to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry so much. That you still trust him with your own body even after all this time. You don’t say anything aloud, but Mingyu seems to get the gist from the look in your eyes either way, surging forward so he can press his lips back onto yours as he loosens you up.
“You’re always so quick to get wet for me, baby,” he sighs, stifling the noise that escapes you when he slides in a second finger to test the resistance of your walls. “You’ve no idea how much I missed this. Missed you .”
“Gyu, I—” Your breath hitches once he curls his fingers just so, making your legs rise involuntarily off the mattress, but Mingyu pins one of your thighs down with his free hand. 
“What was that?”
He’s teasing. He rarely ever does that. You shoot him a petulant look before taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging hard enough to coax a groan out of him. 
“I missed you, too,” you whisper. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good.”
A dozen emotions flit through Mingyu’s face in the span of a millisecond, but the one that remains is something not so different from longing. You hear him sigh a couple of words that you don’t quite catch before he’s taking his fingers out of your sopping cunt and pulling away from you. Just when you’re about to voice out a complaint, he starts undoing his trousers, kicking them away to some uncharted part of your bedroom before working on the rest of his dress shirt.
Not-so-newsflash: your ex-boyfriend is still fucking hot. 
But he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re reacting to the sultry way in which he peels his clothes off—dark eyes still trained on your pliant form on the bed. As Mingyu palms himself through his boxers, you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. 
There was a time when he railed you so good, you legitimately couldn’t walk straight the next day. You wonder if he plans on reenacting the whole thing tonight.
“Let’s get you out of that dress, sweetheart,” he breathes before gently guiding you back into a seated position, tugging at the hem of your dress before tossing it to the side. 
You feel your cheeks warm when he stares at the underwear set you have on tonight. Plain cotton panties and plain cotton bra. In your defense, you really didn’t expect to get laid tonight. 
“Doesn’t matter,” Mingyu chuckles. It’s either he can read minds or he still knows you well enough to figure out what you’re thinking. “I’m taking everything off anyways.”
As he makes quick work of what’s left of your clothing, you distantly remember the last conversation you had with Seungkwan. How you told him you’d ‘clear the air’ with Mingyu right after having dinner with his family.
You’re pretty sure what you’re doing right now is only blurring the lines even more, but you don’t really fucking care right now.
You let out a hushed moan when Mingyu latches his mouth onto your nipple, massaging your other breast as he swirls the appendage across your sensitive skin. His free arm snakes itself behind the curve of your waist, pressing you against his firm body while rutting his hips against the bed. 
He’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, and it fills you with a heady sort of hunger that only Mingyu can alleviate.
“Can I?” he whispers.
You feel his teeth graze across the skin of your chest, making your toes curl with anticipation. It’s been a while, but you can’t easily forget how much of a biter Mingyu is in bed. He loves leaving his marks on your body, and even if you always complain about how hard it is to cover them up, you let him do as he pleases every single time.
“Yes,” you whimper, rubbing your bare pussy against the ridge of his abs. “Do whatever you want with me, Gyu.”
The sound you let out once he finally bites down is caught between a yelp and a moan, your fingers threading across his hair as he suckles on your skin. He’s such a talker in bed, too—whispering all sorts of endearments that are too soft for you to hear, but add fuel to your growing desire regardless.
“So fucking pretty,” he says once he detaches himself from your breasts and marvels at his own work. The fruit of his effort is yet to become visible, but he’s left enough angry red marks on your skin to guarantee the lovebites they’ll turn into come morning. “And it’s all for me.”
Lacing your fingers around his nape, you mold your lips together in another kiss, tongues dancing to the rhythm of your erratic heartbeat as you grind yourself against his toned stomach. 
“Mingyu,” you whimper against his mouth—hot and heavy. “I need you inside me. Need to get stretched on your cock.”
He groans again, fisting your hair so that he can kiss you even deeper. As he busies you with his mind-numbing kisses, Mingyu gets rid of his boxers in a flash—positioning himself between your thighs. You nearly cry out when you feel the fat head of his cock sliding against your soaking slit. When he grazes your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn tears started together in the corners of your eyes.
“Fuck, babygirl, so fucking wet for me,” he sighs as he lays you back down on the bed and eases your knees further apart. 
You bite your lip at the sight of his cock, still as long and girthy as you remember. Mingyu pumps his length all while sliding the head across your cunt, but you let out another desperate mewl to just fuck you already. 
“Shhh,” he says, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Let me take my time with you, sweetheart. I want you to commit all of this to memory. Gonna have you feeling me inside you for days.”
And you don’t doubt that. Kim Mingyu has a knack for making it hard for people to forget about him, and if he plans to fuck the shape of his cock into your pussy, who are you to complain?
When you feel his cock catch across your entrance, you genuinely wonder if it’s going to hurt. Mingyu’s attempt at foreplay was cut halfway through because he got distracted by his sudden desire to leave a trail of love bites all over your breasts. But the thing about having sex with Mingyu is that your comfort is his top priority. 
He would never do anything that he knows can hurt you.
“I’ll go slow, alright?” he whispers, and all you can manage is a nod. “Words, baby. You have to talk to me so I’ll know if you really want it.”
“Gyu,” you whine, arching your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to fuck into you. “I’m alright. Anything you do is alright with me, just— Please. Please fuck me full.”
He sighs, staring down like he doesn’t know what to do with you before finally, finally, you feel his dick breach your entrance—pushing inch by delicious inch inside you with restrained hunger. You fist the sheets at the familiar stretch, but it’s not so uncomfortable that the sensation burns. You’ve taken Mingyu’s cock dozens of times before, and it seems that your body still knows how to accommodate his ridiculous size.
“Pretty pussy’s happy to see me again,” he chuckles, his grip on your thighs tightening ever-so slightly. “Still made to fit me so snuggly. Did you miss my cock, sweet thing? I can feel you pulsing around me.”
“Yes,” you drawl. “Missed your cock so fucking much, Gyu. Fuck—”
You feel so hot, so full. It’s like Mingyu’s the only thing you’ve ever known—surrounding you in every direction until all that floats in your lust-addled mind are the letters of his name. Once he buries himself to the hilt, Mingyu doesn’t move right away, still so attentive to your reactions that even if you want nothing more than for him to rail you into the mattress, he won’t press forward until he’s sure you’re ready.
“Is it too much?” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Do you need more time to get used to me?”
Something similar to a growl reverberates in your chest as you stare at Mingyu hard. “What I need is…for you to fuck me until I black out.”
Mingyu’s lips turn up into a grin as he shakes his head. “Baby, the last thing I want to be is some sex-deprived savage after we’ve been apart for so long. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Then, he leans forward on the bed again, bringing his lips right next to your ear.
“But I can still make you feel good.”
He prefaces the words with a powerful thrust that you don’t expect, splaying your thighs further until they’re flat against the mattress. The slide of his cock still feels so unbelievably good that even if the sudden stretch should’ve been uncomfortable, you’re too blindsided by the pleasure to notice. 
Your eyes trail across the beautiful man above you as he fucks you in his favorite position. Mingyu has always had a thing for missionary—something about wanting to see your face as he wrecks you. You think you’re starting to share the same sentiment because not only do you get to see his fat cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt, but you can admire all of him at once, as well.
The exertion in those toned arms with every forward thrust. The conspicuous outline of his pecs. That toned fucking stomach. That gorgeous fucking face, so lost in the velvet heat of your pussy—
Why did you ever think letting someone like this go was a good idea?
“You’re going to laugh at me for this but,” Mingyu breathes, chuckling to himself. “I think I’m kinda close.” 
You do laugh, but it’s quickly silenced when one of his fingers finds your clit, rubbing it in quick, precise circles like he hasn’t forgotten how to get you off after all this time.
“I am, too,” you tell him. “Cock so fucking good, you can make me come in minutes.”
Mingyu lets out another guttural noise as he presses your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulder with a look in his eyes that promises nothing but pleasure. Though his fingers have departed your puffy clit, the angle he has you bent in has his cock easily grazing your g-spot with every thrust—reducing you into a pathetic, mewling mess underneath him.
“Your pussy’s a fucking drug, babygirl,” he sighs. “Haven’t wanted anyone else after you.”
Even in your cock-drunk haze, those words bring forth some semblance of clarity within you. But it’s immediately snuffed out when Mingyu amps up the cadence of his thrusts, fucking into you with the intention of bringing you to completion at the same time he achieves it. Your eyes are screwed shut, fingers finding purchase across the ripping muscles of his back as you babble an incoherent mantra of yes, yes, so close, so fucking close, love how you fuck me, love how you make me feel full—
And then, it’s over—a white hot flash like stars bursting behind your eyelids. You curl into Mingyu’s embrace as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, and he’s all too glad to help you ride it out, pistoning inside your spasming walls with a rhythm that’s starting to stagger. 
“So goddamn tight,” he growls. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart?”
You’re still too blissed out to give him a proper response, but from the way your legs tighten themselves around his waist, Mingyu figures that that’s the green light he needs to make a mess out of you. Mingyu sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck before biting down—his cock twitching in the heat of your cunt as his release gushes into you in thick globs.
He comes so much that when Mingyu does pull out of your abused pussy, his essence trickles out of your hole as you do your best to catch your breath. The world is just starting to return to its normal axis in your vision, and the first thing that your eyes focus on is the sight of Mingyu smiling at you so fondly, it makes your heart hurt.
The look scares you. Like he’s about to say something that you don’t know how to respond to. 
So instead of giving him any leeway for conversation, you tug him back down into a tongue-filled kiss, rubbing your ruined pussy across his still hard length as you mewl against his lips.
“More,” you whimper. “I need more, Gyu.”
And he’s all too happy to oblige.
Mingyu slides himself back inside you with an ease that wasn’t present earlier—your mixed arousal acting as a good enough lubricant to accommodate him. His erratic breathing as he fucks his cum deeper inside you only serves to turn you on even more, making another orgasm creep ever-so slightly beneath your skin. 
“Babygirl can’t get enough of this cock, can you?” he sighs. “Seems to me like your pussy never wants me to leave.”
“Yes!” you hiss, moving your hips in time with his as you desperately claw at his back. “Love your cock so much, please—”
“Come for me again, sweet thing, I know you can do it.”
It’s unbelievable how a few choice words can get your body to submit to his whims without much thought. Unlike your first orgasm, the second one that Mingyu coaxes out of you singes through every functional nerve-ending in your body—sending you into a flurry of overstimulation that has you twitching under his touch. 
Just when you thought Mingyu’s finally done with you, however, he suddenly flips you onto your stomach—pressing your chest against the mattress while your ass is high in the air. The sudden change in positions makes your head spin, but you’re too dazed to protest.
When you glance over your shoulder, he’s showing you that same smile you fell in love with a lifetime ago.
“You can give me a few more orgasms, right, baby?” 
When he slides his still hard cock along your swollen cunt, you groan into the sheets—having momentarily forgotten that Mingyu’s stamina can go until morning. If you don’t stop him now, he might actually fuck you until you black out, despite his earlier refutal.
But honestly? You’re not against the idea. Not one bit.
When you wake up the following day, it’s to cold sheets and the startling clarity of Mingyu’s absence.
You never minded living alone. You’ve been doing it since your first year of college here in Seoul. You’re used to waking up with nothing but the silence of your room to keep you company.
Even when you eventually got together with Mingyu, lonely mornings have always been a staple, especially on days where he has early schedules. It fills you with a sinking feeling to see that he isn’t with you, but you’ve learned to take it in stride. 
Besides…it’s not like you’re together anymore now.
This is what you wanted, right? For him to not treat…whatever this is as if it’s a relationship thing. The two of you were just heavily pent up, and caved into your mutual desires last night. There’s nothing more to it.
However, when you pad outside the bedroom after shrugging on a flimsy oversized shirt, the scent of pancakes and frying eggs fills your nose. When you see Namja sitting right next to a tall figure hunched over your stove, you can hardly believe your eyes.
He doesn’t notice you right away—too preoccupied with making the perfect breakfast to pick up on your presence. Namja, however, is more perceptive, glancing behind and perking up at the sight of you. He lets out an excited bark before skidding over to where you’re standing, and you crouch down to the floor so you can give him a tight hug.
“Oh, you’re awake!”
Mingyu faces you with a smile that’s nearly blinding in the morning light, a spatula in one hand and a kitchen mitt in the other. It’s the exact same scene that you’re greeted with during lazy weekends where he doesn’t have any work to do, and your chest twists yet again at the memory.
“Yeah, I am.” You smile, rubbing Namja’s belly when he sprawls himself on the floor. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have to go back to New York tonight?”
“Yes, but it’s still morning,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.
A few minutes later, Mingyu starts to set the table while you wash your hands. He tells you about how Seungkwan doesn’t want to room with him anymore over breakfast because Mingyu takes so long to close the lights when he’s binging a new drama. You tell him to be more considerate of his roommates or they might just dropkick him off the hotel room balcony in his sleep.
When you help him put away the dishes, the sight is so…domestic, it gives you whiplash. Bumping shoulders, splashing water, stifling mutual laughter... Being with him like this, tucked in your own little pocket of happiness makes your heart soar in ways that not even mind-blowing sex can help you attain.
You pray that Mingyu doesn’t breathe a word about it, but of course things don’t always go your way.
Just when you’re about to turn around to give Namja her morning fix of dog food, you find yourself trapped between the sink and Mingyu’s arms—unable to escape the fondness in his eyes even if you tried.
“I think,” he whispers, “we can still make this work. You and me.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Gyu…”
You think so, too. With someone as understanding and compassionate as Mingyu, you know nothing’s impossible if you just quit being so stubborn. You were so afraid of him attempting to bring your relationship back to life last night, but…
Seeing him bathing under the sunlight in your kitchen after months of getting used to being alone again… 
Maybe it isn’t so bad to let him back inside your heart.
“O-Of course, you don’t have to answer right away,” he says, turning red in the face. Cute. “You can tell me when I get back from New York. How’s that sound?”
You’re about to open your mouth to respond, but the moment is quickly shattered by the sound of Mingyu’s phone going off. He sighs, releasing you from the figurative cage of his arms as he leans against the sink right next to you—fishing his phone from his pocket before answering it in loudspeaker.
“Kim Mingyu, where the hell are you?!”
“Good morning to you, too, Seungkwan-ah,” he chuckles. “Why? What’s wrong? I told Jeonghan-hyung I won’t be coming back to the dorms until noon.”
“Well, Jeonghan-hyung must’ve forgotten to tell everyone else because the entire dorm panicked when we realized you didn’t make it home!” the younger man squawks. “We thought something bad happened! You weren’t answering your phone last night either!” 
You and Mingyu exchanged knowing looks, and you have to stifle your laughter if you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seungkwan’s rage, too.
“Sorry about that, I was a little…busy,” Mingyu supplies. 
“Well, whatever you’ve been ‘busy’ with, you better get your ass back here! Manager-hyung is looking for the car you borrowed, and if you don’t bring it back soon, he’s going to give all of us an earful.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be back in thirty. Bye, Seungkwan.”
“Hey—!” 
Mingyu ends the call with little remorse before letting out a long sigh. When his eyes dart back to yours, they flicker momentarily to your lips before he leans forward. You meet him halfway this time, pressing your mouths together in a firm kiss.
“I’ll be back,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ll still be willing to accommodate me when I do.”
Though it pains you, he peels himself away from your touch, leaning down to kiss Namja’s head as he gathers his coat in his arms. It just occurred to you that he’s been eating breakfast with you donned with the outfit he wore last night while you’re dressed in nothing but a loose, oversized shirt. The knowledge makes you blush a little.
When you hear Mingyu’s car drive away, you sigh, running your hands through your messy hair. Namja pads over to you, tail wagging as he anticipates another round of petting. Of course you indulge him.
“Kim Mingyu is such an idiot, isn’t he?” you tell your goldie, and you like to think the small huff he lets out means he’s agreeing with you. “Why wait until he comes back when I already have an answer for him?”
This time, Namja actually barks out loud, making you shake your head with a laugh.
You don’t mind waiting for Mingyu, really. He obviously doesn’t mind waiting for you. At this point, you’re at peace with the fact that you might still love him. Maybe, you never stopped loving him at all. Once he lands back in Korea and comes home to you, you promise yourself that you’ll definitely show him.
Again and again.
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this is part of the doting on you! series.
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talesofesther · 6 months
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what once was mine | ch 1
Loki x Reader
Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.
A/N: A long overdue mini-series for one of my favorite characters of all time. I had this idea when season one of Loki first came out, but never got to writing it, and now with season two coming, I decided to finally do it. There are two important things that need to be said before we head into it though; firstly and most importantly, I will not be following the show's plot at all, this story will only be focusing on the relationship between Loki and the reader, after all that's what it is about and I don't want it to be unnecessarily huge; secondly, this story will be mostly told in moments, which means that not every single scene happening between the characters will be written down in length. Lastly, I do hope you can all enjoy it. <3
Masterlist
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Things felt worthless. Everything suddenly seemed unimportant. His whole life, everything he knew, felt small and frail. Because here, infinity stones were mere paperweights.
Loki scoffed as he pushed himself up from the floor, one hand coming up to tug at the collar still wrapped around his neck. This place made him feel as if his brain was melting, it was all too much, too sudden—sacred timeline, variants. A sense of utter helplessness started to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.
Yet he couldn't hold himself back from sitting at the single table in the middle of the dim-lit room. The checkered image of the Avengers right in front of him seemed to be taunting him.
This was still the same day, right?
Or maybe not, Loki wasn't certain anymore; it sure didn't feel like the same day.
For a split second, as he looked down at the red, round device resting on top of the table, he thought about how everything here looked so old-fashioned. It was almost ironic, for a place out of time.
Loki couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him eventually. But if anyone had their whole life just a click away, they'd probably do the same.
So he watched, through glimpses passing on a screen, a life that was supposed to be his. He watched his mother die, and then his father; he watched as Thor called him a brother with a smile on his face again, and as they made earth a new home for Asgard. Loki's eyes were already a pool of tears as soon as his mother's lifeless body had appeared in front of him, they cascaded down his cheeks freely, leaving behind a damp path of a lifetime worth of mourning, now seen in less than a minute. The loss somehow felt greater, because now he wouldn't even have those moments to begin with.
But suddenly, amidst the moments of suffering and mistakes, an unfamiliar face appeared. She had a smile on her face most of the time, and even through the static of the image in front of him, Loki could clearly see the glint in her pupils, the crinkle beside her eyes. She was quite captivating, maybe that's why it took him a second to realize she was smiling at him.
A frown etched itself in Loki's eyebrows, he leaned forward on his chair as he pressed play again. Curiosity and... apprehension twirled wildly inside his stomach.
The moments with her were endless. Walks on the beach, shared ice creams, quiet nights watching a movie, dancing together in a dark kitchen, the golden rays of a sunset shining against her hair in a memory tucked away like a treasure; and even a moment of her talking with Tony Stark and the others, while her hand held tightly onto Loki's, the other Loki, that is. All of them looked futile, a simple existence Loki would never have considered fit for him; so why did these moments feel important?
Inside TVA's lonely room, Loki held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and his eyes were stinging for a whole new reason. He could feel the shaking of his own hands. That look in her eyes, it was one of love, anyone who saw would know it. But the cause of the sudden lump in Loki's throat was the fact that this look was always directed at him. That love in her eyes, that smile on her lips; was for him.
Several minutes went by with him silently looking at the paused image of her on the checkered screen. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure why yet. If it was for the shock of learning that someone could love him this much; or because of the envy, the longing for something that wasn't even his, not really, he never got there after all.
There was a hole in his chest, a missing piece of something he never had. Loki didn't even know her name, yet a part of him was screaming it anyway.
He eventually moved on, and almost threw up when he watched Thanos take his life from him. Loki watched his brother cry over his lifeless body, yet he wasn't seeing her.
And despite the boatload of information thrown at him, the questions clouding his mind were only; who is she? Where is she?
Lost. Loki felt more lost than he probably ever did in his entire life. He had just watched what was supposed to be the rest of his life, yet... it wouldn't be. So what now?
He sat down on the small stairs of the room, burying his head in his hands.
And then there was this girl; smiling and laughing and holding his hand as if he had been the best thing to ever happen to her. This feeling, warm and heavy, squeezing Loki's heart, was a foreign one—he couldn't quite place why that look of pure adoration in her eyes was directed at him.
He needed to know who she was. He needed to find her and ask her why. He needed to know what she was, or- would be to him.
The sudden sound of the door opening startled Loki, he watched as Mobius walked into the room, his steps overly cautious. "Loki? Nowhere left to run."
Gulping back a sob clawing its way through his throat, Loki took a deep breath. He slowly glanced up, voice calm and defeated as he asked a question he already knew the answer to; "I can't go back, can I?"
Mobius simply looked at him, his eyes holding some kind of sympathy as he spared Loki from hearing the truth out loud.
Loki pursed his lips, his gaze slowly trailed back to the screen on his left that again adorned a paused image of the mysterious girl. Her lips were turned up just slightly, dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and she held a slowly melting ice cream in one of her hands. "Who is she?" he asked quietly.
Placing his weapon on the table, Mobius let out a long sigh, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about her."
The words made Loki snap his head towards him, a frown coming to his eyebrows immediately.
"She..." Mobius hesitated, "she is someone almost as annoying as you."
"That doesn't answer my question." Loki nearly sounded offended. He got up then, taking slow steps towards Mobius. "She seemed... important, yet I don't know who she is."
"I'm afraid you haven't met her yet."
"Then tell me who she is."
Mobius grimaced; "I don't think it's my place to say it."
"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, "it's my life we're talking about here."
"How about we help each other then, hm?" Mobius offered, and when Loki only frowned at him, he continued; "a fugitive Variant has been killing our Minutemen."
Loki narrowed his eyes. "And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?"
A small smirk came to Mobius' lips; "That's right. You help us stop him. I get you an opportunity to meet her and you can ask her whatever questions you want to know."
A meeting with someone didn't feel like much for his end of the bargain, but that same voice inside Loki was still screaming a name he didn't know how to spell. He had to know.
"Deal."
⋆* ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Read ch 2 here
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.
Loki’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us
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