#so maybe I just need to stop being so fucking clumsy
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It's sad that my local ER staff know me well enough that they could tell by how I was acting in the triage room that I really fucked it up. They said this was worse than my last shoulder dislocation, and I just thought..... Oh. You remembered. And you remember me well enough to compare my pain level without me bringing it up. You're actually used to seeing my pain scale. 😬 I'm here too much.
#connective tissue disorder#ehlers danlos syndrome#chronically ill#chronic injury#chronic illness#chronic pain#emergency room#also the last two times I went to the ER were both from falling on something and hurting myself#so maybe I just need to stop being so fucking clumsy
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The lab assistant
Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Shy!Reader
Warnings- Face sitting, slight corruption kink, slightly perverted!Miguel (if you squint), co-workers being dickheads, semi-public sex (let me know if I missed anything! )
MINORS DNI 18+
You had been working at Alchemax for a few months now. A few of your colleagues were generous enough to introduce you to the workplace and the other workers, but there was one person you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.
Miguel O’Hara.
When you first introduced yourself to him, he had already taken a liking to you. Something about how shy yet sweet you were made his pulse quicken and his cheeks burn. The way you smiled at him as you tried to introduce yourself, nervous about your first day at Alchemax. But you quickly felt at home when Miguel began to bond with you by taking over your “tour” of the place, making great conversation. Soon enough, your shell had cracked and you started talking about your personal interests, how you got hired, etc.
About a week after that day, he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about you for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, thinking it wasn’t too serious.
But then you started appearing in his dreams.
Miguel would dream about leaving marks everywhere on your body to claim you as his, fucking every ounce of innocence out of you.
And when he would wake up in a cold sweat, his cock was nearly on the verge of exploding, precum dripping everywhere. He felt guilty about it afterwards, it was just wrong for him to think about his colleague like that.
But you plagued his mind consistently. The dreams slowly turned into daily thoughts that he finally caved into, fisting his cock at least four times a day to the thought of your body. But you had no clue what he was doing after he got off of work. You just assumed that he only saw you as a co-worker and nothing else, maybe even a good friend.
But God, were you so far off from the truth.
As you entered the building for another shift of the week, your boss had approached you with some new information.
“I’m really sorry this is a last minute notice, but I need you to stay a little later. I tried to get some other people to stay instead, but all of them couldn’t do it… but on the bright side, Miguel volunteered to stay, so you won’t be completely alone.”
Great, just what you needed. A longer shift after your horrible week.
Even though some of your colleagues were nice to you, there was a group that wasn’t as generous as them. Some of them claimed that you were too clumsy or stupid to be an assistant, others claimed you were like a lost dog or a prude. Whatever they said, you tried not to pay attention to it too much. But there were days where it would get to you, and this week happened to have a bunch of those days.
You just nodded at your boss and shot him the best smile you could muster up.
“Alright then, that shouldn’t be a problem, sir” You said in a friendly tone.
“At least Miguel will be here with me… maybe I can talk to him, get my stress out” You thought to yourself as you walked off to start your shift.
When you walked into the lab and took your coat off of the hanger, you could hear some voices from the other side of the room.
“Oh great, look who’s here.”
“God, I don’t even know why she’s still here. She should’ve been fired months ago, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”
“I’m surprised Miguel even hangs out with her, she’s such a prude.”
“Hell, you should’ve seen the look on her face yesterday. She practically bursted into tears when we called her useless.”
The other comments stung a little, but what got you the most was the part about Miguel. Sure, you had developed a small crush on him, but that had nothing to do with your guy’s friendship. The fact that the other colleagues had judged your bond just to get a laugh hurt you more than you felt it should’ve.
God forbid if they ever found out about your feelings for Miguel… you couldn’t help but become paranoid over the idea.
As you tried to ignore the group across the room and focus on your tasks, it seemed that one of them had read your mind and called you over.
Shit.
“Hey, newbie! Come over here real quick, we gotta ask you somethin“ One of your colleagues called out.
Your heart pounded hard inside your chest, quietly gulping before walking over to the group with a small sigh.
“What do you need?” You asked gently, silently praying it was something work-related and not just making fun of you again.
Some of the others chuckled and chattered a little bit before falling quiet.
“Sooo, you’re friends with Miguel, right?” The female colleague from before asked.
Your palms began to grow sweaty as sirens went off in your mind, biting your cheek before answering.
“Yeah, why?” You raised your brow at your co-worker.
Your co-worker slowly smiled. Oh no.
“Well, we were just thinking… with the way you act around him and all… you definitely have a thing for him, don’t you?”
Your whole chest sunk to your stomach, wishing this was just some horrible dream and that you would wake up soon. Trying to play it off, your eyes widened at the question and you shook your head vigorously.
“What?? No, he’s just my friend-“
“That wasn’t my question. I asked if you have a thing for him” She cuts off coldly.
Some of the others snickered quietly, making your throat close up as you tried to hold your emotions back. Your face contorted into confusion at the strange question, the others taking notice of it.
“Oh my god, she’s clueless” One of the colleagues muttered with a small chuckle.
Your co-worker lets out a small laugh as she noticed your face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.
“Here, let me dumb it down for you: do you ever fantasize about having sex with Miguel?”
Your whole face flushed bright red as it clicked into your head, slowly shaking your head.
“N- No… that’s… that’s wrong” You stuttered, looking at your co-worker.
She stares at you with a raised brow, not believing you at all.
“Okay, sure… but you still like him, right? Being a prude and all, surely you at least have a crush on him.”
“Please, don’t call me that-“
“Or what? Huh? You gonna run off to your little boyfriend and cry in his arms? I’m sure he’ll baby you, he does every time he sees you” She hisses.
The feeling in your throat grew even stronger, your eyes slowly beginning to water. But you didn’t want to prove her theory, so you just stood there silently, not knowing what else to say. As the silence grew more, some of the colleagues just laughed.
“Wow… you really are stupid, aren’t you?”
“Who’s stupid?” A voice emerges from the entrance of the room, making everyone fall silent.
It was Miguel, standing with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. The group of colleagues weren’t laughing or smiling anymore- instead, they actually looked nervous. The female coworker looked over at you for a quick moment before flashing a smile at Miguel.
“Oh, nothing! It was just something we were talking about from yesterday. Right, hon?” The co-worker said in an overly sweet tone, forcing herself to smile at you.
You froze, not wanting anymore conflict with the group, so you just went along with it. You quietly nodded your head and looked over at Miguel, giving your best smile.
“Mhm, it was just stuff from yesterday” You mustered up as your voice shook a little.
Miguel didn’t buy it at all, seeing how your eyes glistened, tears threatening to leave them at any second. He shot your co-worker a glare before looking back at you, a sigh leaving his lips.
“Ah, alright then… do you have the paperwork from last week? I just wanna make sure everything is right” Miguel spoke to you, his face softening a little.
You quickly nodded and walked away from the group to your clipboard that was in one of the desk drawers, skimming through the pile of papers to look for the documents. The group just watched as you eventually found the papers Miguel was referring to, handing them to him. He took out his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, reading the sheet of paper. After a few moments of silence, Miguel took off his glasses and looked over at you, handing the paper back.
“This is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen paperwork better than this and I’ve worked here longer than anyone else has” Miguel praised, a gentle smile formed on his lips.
“Thank you, Miguel. That means a lot to me” You hummed in appreciation, returning the smile.
The praise alone made you forget about the whole situation from earlier, but the smile comforted you even more. Your cheeks burned up as you felt your whole body tingle, a small smile creeping up your lips. The feeling Miguel made you have was insatiable, you just couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more of him, to have his lips on yours…
You almost forgot that there were other people in the room. Almost.
The sound of low muttering made your head turn towards the group, the co-worker giving you a dirty look before the group parted separate ways. You set the paper on the table and Miguel leans down to whisper in your ear.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
Your head spun when you felt his warm breath tickle your skin, almost not realizing what he just said. When you finally processed it, you looked at Miguel and nodded a little. For once, you were actually kind of glad your boss made you work later.

After hours of working and following Miguel around for assistance (as he asked for your presence), it was time for the others to go home. Usually, you would be getting off at this time, but since you had to stay later, that meant you would have to pick up dinner on your way back home. You didn’t really mind since it would save you time and energy to make food at home.
Plus you didn’t mind since it meant you could spend more time with Miguel.
Speaking of which, you couldn’t help but notice something was a little off with him. You assumed it was because of what happened earlier, because he seemed a little more tense than normal. But after everyone had left, he looked over at you, glad that the two of you were finally alone. You were finishing out today’s paperwork, slouching over the desk as you tried to fight off your tiredness. Miguel walked over to you and gently took the pen out of your hand, turning your chair around to face him.
“Everyone left, it’s just us. Now… about what happened earlier…” Miguel started, bending down to your height, “Tell me. What exactly did they say to you?”
Your face burned up a little as his face was inches away from yours, struggling to find your words. He just stared at you, waiting for an answer. But after a few moments of silence, his face softened and he let out a small breath, resting his large hand on your thigh.
“I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong… when I got here, you were on the verge of tears” Miguel spoke softly.
The feeling of his hand on your thigh made your chest flutter and your stomach turn, trying to keep your composure as much as you could. He was only just trying to comfort you… right?
“They… they were asking me questions…” You began, still debating whether or not you should leave out a few details.
Miguel hummed a little as he listened to you, his other hand now on your other thigh as he gently caressed your skin. Your stomach felt fuzzy and warm, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Questions about what? C’mon hermosa, you can tell me” He coos, tucking a small strand of hair out of your face.
You swallowed hard and bit your lip hard before answering hesitantly.
“They were… questions a- about you.”
Miguel stopped and looked at you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.
“What did they ask about me?”
You stared up at him for a few moments and finally spoke again.
“They… they were asking if… I liked you” You whispered quietly.
That caught Miguel off-guard.
His eyes widened at you just the slightest, analyzing your face to see if you were messing with him. Once he noticed your flushed cheeks and nervous look, he knew you weren’t joking. After a moment of tense silence, Miguel licked his lips and started talking.
“…Do you?” Miguel asked lowly, looking down at your lips and up at your eyes.
His question had you in a slight panic, weighing out the odds. If you told him how you felt, it would either change your entire friendship or you would be stuck working alone for the rest of your time at Alchemax. Either one of those options sounded horrible, but if you didn’t tell him now, you were certain the group from earlier would do it eventually. Your heart raced so quick, Miguel swore he could hear it clearly. A shaky sigh left your lips and you nodded at him.
“Yeah… I do” You mumbled, scared that he would react negatively.
But instead, Miguel just chuckled softly and smiled at you, his hand cupping your face and his thumb dragging down your bottom lip.
“That’s good to know… because I’ve also liked you for quite some time now” Miguel responded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
Your eyes widened at his response, a look of hope on your face as you slowly smiled.
“Really?” You squeaked.
Miguel chuckled again and nodded at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips.
“Of course I do… how could I not?” He whispered, his face slowly inching closer to yours.
Your face flushed all the way to your ears, finding yourself drifting towards him. Closer, closer and closer until you finally feel his warm lips on yours. It felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in your chest, slowly wrapping your arms around him and holding Miguel close. You were almost afraid to let go, and he seemed to notice this. Miguel gently moved his hands down to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and into his arms. The more you kissed him, the harder it became for Miguel to keep his composure. He wanted to take things slow with you, not wanting to scare you away. But God, was it a challenge for him to just keep his hands on your hips.
After a little bit, Miguel finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, already panting softly. He looked at you and let out a groan that awoken something inside you.
“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Miguel huffed quietly, his thumbs barely peeking up the hem of your shirt and rubbing the bare skin of your stomach.
You just stared up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss you two had shared moments ago. You shook your head with a quiet “No…”
Miguel sighed and looked down at your chest, his cock twitching inside his pants. He didn’t even bother hiding his erection anymore, moving your hips against his to show you the effect you had on him. You let out a gasp at the strange feeling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body felt hot now.
“I can’t help it… you’re just so fucking sweet… you haunt me in my dreams, I swear to god. Every night when I go to bed, all I can dream about is you and that fucking body of yours… all just for me.”
Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say those kind of things to you. Normally, you’d be freaked out or even scared… but something about the way Miguel looked at you made you feel different. You weren’t sure if it was from the kiss earlier or your feelings for him in general, but you felt… ready in a sense. When Miguel saw your eyes widen at his words, his face dropped as he suddenly became worried.
“…Was that too much?” Miguel whispered gently, his brows furrowed together.
You slowly shook your head and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.
“No… I- If anything, I… I sometimes have dreams about you, too…” You admitted with a quiet tone, looking away.
Miguel nearly went off the rails when you told him that, his pants feeling tighter around his dick. He moved you closer to him once more, moving your hair to the side.
“Mierda… Tell me about your dreams…” Miguel mumbled against you, pressing slow kisses to your cheek and down your neck.
Your thighs pressed together as a wet patch formed in your panties, your stomach flipping as you felt his lips against your skin. A shaky breath left your mouth, nearly moaning from how good it felt to have Miguel treat you this way. It was definitely wrong, but it felt so right. If anyone else had stayed with you two during the late shift and caught you like this, you’d be fired on the spot.
But nobody else was here. Just the two of you.
“S- sometimes I dream about you k- kissing me like this… and even…” Your voice faltered as you quickly grew shy again, biting down on your lip.
Miguel kissed and nipped at your neck, leaving little marks on your skin.
“Go on, Cariño…”
You swallowed before speaking again, letting a soft moan slip out.
“Even… touching me…”
Miguel moaned at that, causing your head to spin even more. You felt so hot that you swore you were going to pass out, but luckily you didn’t. He moved up to place a firm kiss on your lips, pulling away to look at you.
“Have I done anything more than just touching you in your dreams?” Miguel muttered lowly, his lips wet and raw.
You thought for a second before slowly shaking your head with a small breath.
“I always woke up before… before I could find out…” You answered Miguel.
Miguel frowned at that, looking at the marks on your neck before making direct eye contact with you. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue.
“Well… do you wanna know what I’d do to you in my dreams?”
You nodded at him, genuinely curious as to what he dreamed about when you weren’t there with him. His forehead pressed against yours as his lips were centimeters away from your lips, his hands trailing from your waist down to your ass.
“In my dreams… I’d have you sit on my face and I’d make you cum over and over again until your legs give out..”
The image Miguel just gave you nearly made you collapse. You felt weak to your knees, a gentle whine escaping your lips. Miguel squeezed your thighs and kissed you once more, his hands moving up to the hem of your shirt. He parted from you to look at your face.
“Can I?” Miguel asked, wanting to make sure you were okay with this before he went any farther.
You looked at him for a few moments before making a decision, whispering out a small “Yes” to him. He took that as his green light and gently took your coat off first before moving to your shirt. He rolled the material up your body and over your head, helping you take your shirt off. Once you were topless in front of him, Miguel’s eyes scanned your chest. He muttered something quietly in Spanish before letting out a breathy sigh.
“Have I ever told you just how beautiful you are?” He coos softly.
Your face burned up as you felt vulnerable in front of him, but when Miguel spoke, you slowly started to become more comfortable. A bashful expression appeared on your face as you just shook your head.
“Not entirely…”
Miguel hummed gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, reaching towards your back to unclip your bra.
“Well… I think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met… every time I see you, it’s always hard for me to look away. Shit, baby, it’s even hard for me to look away in my dreams. I wouldn’t give it up for any other view… you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart” Miguel spoke in between kisses to your face and lips while gently kneading your exposed breasts.
You couldn’t help but moan at his words mixed with his touch, kissing him back each time he placed a kiss onto your soft lips. Miguel couldn’t get enough of the sweet sounds you made, craving even more from you. His hands moved down to unbutton your pants, taking off every last piece of clothing on your body before leaving you completely naked in front of him. Miguel’s breath hitched as he looked at your body.
It was even better than he imagined in his dreams.
Miguel placed small kisses down your neck and collarbone until he made it to your breasts, gently kissing and sucking one while his hand toyed with the other. The sensation made you moan a little louder, biting down on your lip to contain yourself. Miguel seemed to take notice of this and removed his mouth from your nipple.
“You don’t have to be quiet, muñeca… it’s just us. I wanna hear your pretty moans.. god, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”
As soon as he said that, his hands gripped your hips and he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he placed you on top of him as he laid down on the large table in the room. You could feel the tent in his pants right against your wet pussy, a low whine leaving your lips which caused Miguel to groan softly.
“Want you to sit on my face, querida… please…” Miguel begged softly, his hands still on your hips.
You let out a whimper at his request, reluctantly moving so your hips were directly above his face. You were hovering over him, not knowing what else to do. Miguel let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wait any longer. He wanted to taste you… he had to taste you.
“You’re hovering, sweetheart. Lower your hips for me, ‘kay?” Miguel instructed, looking up at you from between your legs.
You looked down at him, slightly embarrassed from the position you were in. Regardless of how shy you became, you obeyed Miguel anyways, slowly lowering your hips a little.
“Is this g-“ Before you could even get your question out, Miguel’s mouth immediately attached to your clit.
You let out a loud gasp and moaned, Miguel’s tongue exploring your folds and licking up your juices. He let out a low growl that sent vibrations through your body, making you squirm and cry out.
“Joder, nena, sabes tan dulce… todo para mi~” Miguel moaned, his head moving up more to lick and suck on your clit again.
You whimpered as he sucked on your clit again, afraid that you would crush him if you moved your hips any lower. Miguel’s hands moved up to your ass and groped it tightly, his tongue poking your hole and sliding inside of you. The warm and wet feeling made your hands slam down on the table, trying not to drop your hips directly onto his face. Small pants left your mouth as his tongue fucked your hole and his nose brushed up against your sensitive clit, moaning as you kept your eyes shut tightly.
That’s when you felt Miguel’s hands grip your hips and his tongue slips out of your pussy, making you whine in response. You gasp as he pulls your hips down with such force, your eyes widening as you look down at him.
“Ay, Cariño, what did I tell you ‘bout the hovering? Stop hovering and sit on my face” Miguel scolded, spanking your ass as he goes back to licking and sucking your poor abused clit.
You cried out as you felt a new wave of pleasure form inside you, sobbing as he hit all of your spots with his mouth.
“Miguel~! Mig-“ You gasped, pulling his hair with one hand as the other stayed on the table for support.
But Miguel could care less if you suffocated him. Hell, he wanted you to. The sound of his name coming from your lips nearly made him cum in his pants right then and there. Every pretty noise that came out of your mouth was better than his dreams alone, not wanting you to stop. Miguel kissed and teased your clit more, savoring your taste as much as possible. His breath grew heavier and heavier as sweat trickled down his temples, burying his face in your pussy.
Miguel’s mouth left your clit with a small ‘pop’ as he re-entered his tongue inside your soaked hole, making you rut your hips against his face. The way his nose bumped your clit and his warm tongue stuffed inside you made your eyes roll back, your legs twitching already.
“God, don’t stop~ please don’t stop, Miggy~ feels s’good~” You begged pathetically, your shy demeanor now leaving your body.
Miguel moaned against you and spanked your ass hard once more, his fingers digging into your thighs. His own hips twitched against nothing as he listened to your pleads and moans, fucking you with his tongue relentlessly. With the way you begged so nicely for him to keep going, Miguel swore he could feel his precum seeping through his boxers and pants. How could he refuse you?
“Miguel-! I- I think I’m-“ You tried to warn him that you were close, your legs nearly giving out on you.
If it weren’t for Miguel’s large hands holding your hips up, you definitely would’ve collapsed on his face. But you were so desperate to cum, continuing to grind on his face as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He caught his breath and looked up at you for a moment, his eyes dark and full of arousal.
“Go ahead, princesa… cum for me” Miguel moaned, going back to sucking your clit.
With just those words alone, the coil inside your stomach broke. You cried out loudly as you came, chanting his name over and over again. Your legs shook and you nearly collapsed onto him, Miguel catching you just in time. He licked up every drop of your release, making sure to not let it go to waste. You whimpered as he continued to lick your sensitive pussy, becoming overstimulated from his tongue. Your hands pressed down onto the table to hold yourself up, catching your breath as you carefully crawled off of his face.
As you sat down on the table next to Miguel, he sat up straight and faced you, panting heavily. Your eyes widened as you saw his chin was soaked from your juices, a dark blush forming across your cheeks. Miguel noticed your face as he finally caught his breath, a small laugh leaving his lips.
“How do you feel?” Miguel asked, licking his lips and wiping his chin off with his coat sleeve.
A soft breath left your mouth as you looked at him, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “I feel… I feel like that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced..”
Miguel chuckled and leaned over to you, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You melted against him and returned the kiss, slowly pulling away to look at him.
“I’m glad I could make you feel like that… say, uh… our shift actually ended like… 10 minutes ago” Miguel spoke as he checked his watch.
Your eyes widened as you looked around for your discarded clothes, Miguel quickly grabbing them before you could get off of the table.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got it. Just sit for a little bit, catch your breath” He mumbled, putting your clothes back on for you.
Your chest fluttered as he did so, smiling at him in a loving way. Miguel noticed this and chuckled as he helped you put your panties back on.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing… I was just wondering.. do you wanna stay the night at my place?” You offered, moving your hips a little as Miguel clothed you.
Miguel grinned widely at the offer, placing a peck to your forehead and nodding.
“Of course, I’d like that… I’ll buy dinner for us on the way there. My treat for this” Miguel hummed, putting your shirt on and placing soft kisses to your knuckles.
Your smile widened as he said that, pulling him in for a kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back, his forehead pressed against yours as you two pulled away. He helped you off of the table and the both of you made your way out of the building, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your skin.
“Oh, by the way… I heard everything that happened with your co-workers. I was listening the whole time” Miguel admitted, looking over at you.
Your head whipped over to him, a surprised expression on your face. “You were-??”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I actually got promoted as a manager a few weeks ago, so…”
Your eyes widened as a small gasp left your lips. “Wait, so that means-“
“That means you won’t be having to deal with them for much longer. I know those assholes have been messing with you since you got here… plus, everything they said about you is wrong. You’re the best worker this place has to offer and those dickheads have been here longer than you have” Miguel responded to you, placing a kiss to your temple.
A grin formed on your lips as joy filled your chest, squeezing Miguel’s hand.
“Thank you, Miguel… that means everything to me.”
“Of course. I gotta make sure my girl is okay.”
You let out a laugh as he said that, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as you walked with him down the street.
“So, is that your way of saying I’m your girlfriend now?” You chuckled.
“Only if you want to be” Miguel answered with a smirk.
You gently smacked his shoulder with your other hand and scoffed playfully, earning a laugh from him.
“Of course I do, Miguel.”
“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
#atsv miguel#miguel 2099#miguel x reader#atsv#miguel smut#miguel o’hara x reader#Miguel O’Hara#miguel x you#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara smut
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First Kiss
Your first kiss with Katsuki was overwhelming…
The two of you have been friends since U.A. You’ve gotten so close over past couple years to the point where if your friends saw you they expected him not to be far behind and vice versa.
Best friends, that’s what you’ve settled with because you know Kat had 0 interest in you outside of that. You’ve seen the girls he’s hooked up with and you did not fit that type at all.
And don’t get it wrong, you loved being his best friend. He taught you stand up for yourself and you’d taught him how to speak to people with some level of respect. You guys were good together… yin and yang you liked to think
One night, you’re leaving a hangout you guys had at Mina’s place and Kat is walking you home. It was cool out that night and the moon was shining so bright you could still see the clouds in the sky. Apparently you had been gotten lost looking up at it.
“Oi, earth to y/n…. Get your ass moving. I’m exhausted and I’m ready to get home.”
When you come back to reality and look at him, he does look tired. It was almost 11:30pm and Kat had a strict bed time of 9:30…. 10 if he was feeling frisky.
“You do realize I don’t need you to walk me home. I’m a pro hero. I think I can take care of myself”
“Psh…. It’s not a criminal I’m worried about taking you out. It’s your clumsy ass coordination. You’re going to end up offing yourself if you don’t learn how to walk like an adult”
Ok so yea… maybe you had sprained your ankle last year while walking up some stairs. That’s wasn’t your fault tho… it was the stair ‘s fault.
“Are you ever gonna let that go?? Isn’t it getting a little old?”
“It still makes me laugh so nope…”
You rolled your eyes at him. He’s such a dick.
You were now walking up the same previously mentioned stairs to your apartment with Katsuki on your heels.
“ Are these the tights you were talking about the other day?? The ones that make your ass look “the best it’s ever looked””
“ Yea!!! Doesn’t it look amazing??!? I gave Mina the link while we were at her house because she mention how fantastic they looked on me”
“Sure I guess. I ain’t seen anything your ass doesn’t look good in but whatever you say”
You didn’t know what to say to that. He was just upfront like that. The man had little to no filter. Thank god you were at your door. You were unlocking it and about to go inside..
“Wait”
You turned around to look at him.
“What’s up”
“I uhm… well….”
“Come on, spit it out. I ain’t got all night”
He stared you directly in your eyes and said
“Fuck it”
Before you had time to react you were pressed up against the wall and his lips were on yours. Calling what happened a kiss seemed to be a real understatement. It was more like he was consuming you. More so than he already had. You got lost in him. Your hands were in his hair and his arms were around your waist pressing you against him.
When he pulled away you found yourself chasing his lips because you were afraid if it stopped, it might never start again.
“Next time, instead of bitching to raccoon eyes about how you don’t think you’re my type, just come straight to me dumbass. Since when do you keep secrets from me?”
You were really trying to pull your train of thought together but it was really hard when his lips still looked so inviting.
Kat realizes you’re not paying attention to him and flicks you in the forehead.
“Hey asshole. You know I hate when you do that”
“Then pull yourself together. I know I kiss like a god but that doesn’t mean you get to space out.”
He was smirking at you. Katsuki Bakugo had just kissed you and was now standing in front of you looking all suave and handsome. If you died here, you’d die a very happy person.
Your brain started playing catch and you realized something
“So you were eavesdropping on a private conversation?? And I wasn’t bitching… she was asking about you and me yet again and I was explaining to her that I didn’t think it’d ever happen”
You said the last part a little softer because you were embarrassed talking about all of this
“I wasn’t eavesdropping… it was shitty hair. Idk what you think my type is but apparently you got it all wrong”
He does not elaborate or tell you that you are his type. He just leaves it at that so you side step it
“I’m gonna kill Eiji…”
You guys sit there for a second until
“Anyways I’m tired . I’m going home to salvage the little bit of sleep I am going to get tonight. See ya later.”
And he turned to leave. Just like that.
“So that’s it… you kiss me, reveal my biggest secret and leave”
All you can do is sit there befuddled and confused.
“Yep. See ya tomorrow”
Katsuki actually leaves after that. He was not playing about his sleep. You do get a message about 10minutes later letting you know he’s home and also requesting the link to the tights you had on that night.
You ask him why he needs that and all he says is that you need them in more colors than just black… ha! You knew your ass looked good in these!
*you do not know until weeks later that in his head, that kiss was the start of y’all’s relationship. Asshole never does actually ask you but what else do you really expect from the angry Pomeranian?🤷🏾♀️
#imagine#bakugou x reader#bakugou drabble#I love him so much idk what to do with myself#drabble#katsuki bakugo mha#mha fanfiction#bakugo headcanons#bakugou katsuki x reader#fluff
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motive
PAIRING choi san x f!reader
WORD COUNT 3.37k
GENRES kinda fluff ig﹒smut
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, friends to lovers, reader is lowkey down horrendous, but san is too i guess, um tbh this is just porn with minimal plot… 😭, reader gets jealous, Tension, i can’t think of anything else for the tame aspect so, making out, exhibitionism, soft dom!san, marking-ish, scratching, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, they’re like kinda clumsy in the way that everything is a fucking joke to them, actually a lot of kissing, san’s a sweet talker, public sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (pls be safe), creampie, cutesy ending
SUMMARY it’s annoying that your gym partner constantly gets flirted with right in front of you, especially when you have a crush on said gym partner. good thing your gym partner has a crush on you, too.
MORE HELLO oh my god okay, this is my first written fic on this blog and im actually so nervous posting it… but fuck it! we ball! this wasn’t originally the first fic i was gonna post but,,, the other one is still marinating in the drafts so you get mr. choi san instead <3 ALSO THANK U SM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HELLO. my blog is 2 weeks old that’s insanity 🤕 big thank u to the loml @kimsohn for betaing for me ilysm maya <<3 pls reblog if u enjoyed and pls moot me :( i need more atiny friends 💔
“Wow, San, you’re so strong,”
You scoff to yourself as you watch the trio of girls surround him, dainty fingers touching anywhere they can. He laughs sheepishly, shifting his seat on the weight bench. You think it’s funny, really, the fact that he was eating up their attention and acting like he was so shy about it. He was supposed to be your gym partner.
With a small grunt, you take the dumbbells in front of you and focus on your form in the mirror. You make attempt after attempt to ignore the commotion behind you, but ultimately fail. How could you not stare with all the obnoxious giggling? Even as you lunge, eyes zeroed in on the perfect 90° angle your legs make, you can still make out the group’s reflection in the mirror.
Every drag of a manicured nail along his bicep, each twirl of hair, it was pissing you off. You had no real right to be mad, though. It’s not like San was your boyfriend or anything. You were just friends, and he’d volunteered to help you out when you mentioned struggling at the gym. What started as him spotting you when needed and giving tips to help improve your workouts, turned into waiting around for him to stop flirting with the girls who flocked over to him.
Maybe you were being a bit dramatic. It’s not like this happened every time you came to the gym, but it was enough to be irritating. There was also a very high probability that it ticked you off so much because you had a crush on San yourself. Your infatuation was less superficial, however. Yes, he was an attractive man, that was one fact that couldn’t be refuted, but there was more to him than his big muscles and handsome face.
You’d known San since you met in your first year Anthropology course. This was way before he started hitting the gym and building his physique. He used to be this thin, pretty boy. Girls thought he was cute, but that was about it. No one was jumping at the chance to ask him out, or giggling at his every word. No one except for you.
He was not only cute, but he was sweet and funny and just about every good quality you could think of. You didn’t want to be one of those people who thought you were special because you knew him before his insane bodily transformation, though in a way you were. San was your good friend above anything else, and you had a fear instilled in you that that’s all he would ever be. The idea made your stomach churn.
”Do you think you could bench me?”
A sigh pushes past your lips when you see one of the girls get a little closer to him. You’re over working out at this point, ready to just call it a day and go home. What were you doing here if your partner was going to ignore you the entire time? You set the dumbbells back on their respective rack, grabbing your phone and water bottle while simultaneously turning up the volume on your headphones to drown out everything around you.
You don’t bother telling San that you’re leaving, making your way into the changing rooms to grab the rest of your things from your locker. The frown etched onto your face as you do so serves as a reminder that he would never see you in that way. Perhaps you were perpetually stuck as the girl space friend. With a giant emphasis on the space.
There’s a gentle grasp around your wrist, making you jump in surprise. You turn around with wide eyes, pushing your headphones off your ears. San stares back at you with an unreadable expression, lips slightly pursed.
”God, San, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you hold a hand to your chest, heaving up and down a little.
”I tried calling your name, but you didn’t hear me,” he shrugs, releasing your arm and shoving his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ready to leave?”
”You looked busy.” Really, you wanted to hide the jealousy and bitterness from your tone, but ultimately failed, even throwing in an unintentional scrunch of your nose. It feels like your heart dropped to your stomach, resembling a prey caught by its predator when you realize the connotation behind your words.
San smiles at you, a smug grin that’s so out of character for him, you’re a little nervous now. He takes a step forward and you back up until you reach the lockers, one of his hands coming up to rest on the surface near your head. A small chuckle breaches the sound barrier, his eyes drinking in your figure like he might never get the opportunity to do it again. “Y/N… are you jealous?”
Instinctively, you shake your head. What he doesn’t know can’t kill him. But then he’s raising an eyebrow in question and you feel like a puppy with its tail between its legs. You blink up at him, nails digging into your palms to keep your composure. “Should I be?”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, that same cocky smirk on his features. He knows what he’s doing, you think to yourself. He has you cornered and he’s using it to his advantage. The hand that isn’t holding his weight comes up to your face, fingers gliding along your jaw with a feather light touch. “No, I don’t think so. The only girl who’s attention I really care about is right where I want her.”
Your breathing stutters, halting in your throat and momentarily winding you. Choi San might very well be the death of you. Especially with that darkened look in his eyes, the chocolate brown color now resembling the night sky. His thumb swipes across your lower lip, letting it resume its original place. “What do— what do you mean by that?”
He was giving you a bone, a hint that he could potentially feel the same as you, but you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted the words to leave his mouth and verbally confirm that for you. Want wasn’t even good enough. You needed it.
“There’s no way you don’t know,” San says, voice hushed. “No way that you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you since first year.”
Something similar to a choked groan departs from you, your pulse racing in your ears, thumping beneath your chest. You’re too stunned to move, frozen in your spot in case this is all some fucked up dream. It doesn’t even occur to you that someone could walk in, doesn’t even cross your mind that you’re in too public of a setting for this conversation or where it could go.
“I don’t— I didn’t…” Your eyes attempt to stay on his, but keep flickering down to his mouth.
“It was so hard for me to play nice guy for so long,” he whispers, a pout adorning his expression. “And today? I couldn’t even stare at you shamelessly because of those damn girls. It’s so fucking annoying when they bother me while I’m trying to flirt with you. But since I’m Nice Guy San, I can’t be rude.”
“You flirt with me?” You snort, your shell shock wearing off and a goofy smile worming its way onto your face. He laughs along with you, tilting away to hide the warmth blooming on his cheeks. The tension is still present, but it’s a lot more bearable.
”I guess I’m not very good at it if you couldn’t even tell,” he glances down at his feet, the confident San from before long gone and now replaced by a bashful version. “Am I going crazy, or is this gonna go somewhere? I don’t want to misread anything and ruin what we already have. The ball is entirely in your court.”
It’s your turn to be shy, shrinking in on yourself slightly. Acknowledging that you had feelings for San was a separate can of worms. There was a big difference between him confessing to you and vice versa. You know if given the stage, you’d just start blabbering on and on about how you feel for him, and that would just be embarrassing for both of you. So instead you say, “Can I show you?”
When he nods, your fingers raise to his jaw, cupping it gently as you lean up. Your lips brush his softly, barely grazing them. His eyes flutter shut, a shiver running down his spine simply from your kiss. A pleasant buzz courses through your veins from your lips to the tips of your fingers. You’ve wanted this forever, you don’t think you could ever go back.
You pull back and San fists the fabric of your t-shirt on your waist, eyes still closed as he chases your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N, can I kiss you again?”
“Please,” you whine, enveloping your lips with his as soon as you get the green light. This time is desperate, noses bumping each other. You’re going lightheaded and dizzy, already intoxicated by him. Your back presses into the lockers behind you, arching into his chest for more.
He deepens the kiss and it’s almost too much. You’re overwhelmed by the emotions taking control of you, not at all prepared for what would come with actually being with San. It had always been a distant fantasy, something that felt so completely out of reach that you didn’t dare let yourself indulge in the notion for too long. The way his lips lock with yours, fluidly and synchronously like missing pieces of a puzzle, you think you can die happily.
“As hot as it would be to fuck you right here, I’d rather not get kicked out of this gym,” he chuckles breathlessly. “And since we’re both sweaty from working out, I think we could use a shower. Don’t you?”
You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, nodding frantically at his suggestion. Though you imagined your first time with San being in a bed, slow and sensual, you’d be so stupid to complain about this. Fucking in one of the gym showers, where anyone could hear you? Go big or go home.
He scopes the area to ensure the coast is clear before hauling you into one of the stalls, dragging the curtain shut. You kiss roughly between removing articles of clothing, San turning on the water while his lips make quick work of your neck. Goosebumps form on your skin when the cool water hits it, your fingers combing through his wet hair as he sucks harsh marks into your collarbone and sternum.
“You’re so gorgeous, babe,” he mutters into your skin, nipping lightly at the tops of your tits. One of his hands travels south, sliding through your folds with ease. He rubs tight circles into your clit, prodding at your entrance with his ring finger. “I need you to cum for me once before I fuck you for real, okay?”
“Mhm,” you moan quietly, hiking one of your legs around his waist. His finger pushes inside you to the knuckle and then curls. Your eyes all but roll to the back of your head, back arching off of the tiled wall. “Feels so good, San…”
“Yeah?” He smiles against your skin, trailing pecks up your neck and along your jawline. You whimper in his ear, cunt sucking in his finger greedily. He adds a second, the middle one, and applies pressure to your clit with the heel of his palm. The sight of you falling apart by his hand alone is sending blood rushing to his brain.
Your body feels hot to the touch, risking a downwards glance at where his fingers disappear into your pussy. It forces another whine out of you, your head tossing back. You tug at the strands of hair that stick to the nape of his neck, steeling yourself the only way you can in this position. San just seemed to know you, to know exactly what you needed without you having to tell him. Either he was really good at guessing, or everything he did seemed to be perfect, because you’ve never climbed to the summit this quickly before.
There’s a knot in the pit of your stomach that weaves itself tighter and tighter with each curl of his digits and each swirl of his thumb on your clit. You think you could cry from how attentive he was, from how determined he was to provide you pleasure. Your cunt contracts around his fingers, and he can sense the precipice of your orgasm, speeding up his pace.
You squirm around in his hold, allowing him to spread apart your thighs so he can brush the pads of the digits buried inside of you up against that spongy sweet spot. You’re trembling now, nearing the edge of that familiar cliff. “San, baby, I’m— god— I’m so close,”
“Let go for me, my love.” He coos into the corner of your mouth, hushing your moans. He doesn’t slow his assault, inching you further and further towards your release like it was his own personal mission. That knot in your belly begins to unravel until it slips through your grasp completely, your orgasm rocking into you like a tidal wave.
San aids you as you ride out your high, already spent before he’s even gotten the chance to be inside of you. He kisses you tenderly, pulling out his fingers with caution since you were still so sensitive. Your nails claw down his front, scratching his abdomen with a purpose. He shudders beneath you, lips curling up into another soft smile.
“What?” You ask with a giggle, mirroring his expression when he wipes water from your face.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, grin unwavering. “You just look really pretty like this.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get into my pants, Choi San.” You tease, yanking him down for a saccharine kiss. He reciprocates without hesitation, drawing his palm on your thigh so he can wrap it around his waist again.
“Me? Never…” He laughs along your mouth. “Is it working, though?”
You roll your eyes playfully, reconnecting your lips. “Are you gonna fuck me for real now?”
“What kinda question is that?” He glides the tip of his cock between your folds, shutting you up instantaneously. He’s heavy where he sits, slipping the shaft through your lower lips. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you forget where you are, baby.”
Before you can even let out another sound of appreciation, he’s stretching you out, cock thrusting up into your pussy without warning. You jump up a bit to hook your other leg around his hips so he’s supporting your whole weight. The new angle makes it easier for him to delve deeper in your cunt, his dick accessing places you’d never knew existed.
After he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his length, he starts to move, pistoning in and out of you much more forcefully than he did with his fingers. Your lips part for a voluminous moan, but then you hear a group of loud girls entering the shower area and San slaps a hand over your mouth. He makes no effort to stop, fucking into you without a single care for the people on the other side of the shower curtain.
“Did any of you see where San went? He disappeared so fast.”
You recognize the voice as belonging to one of the girls who was openly flirting with San while you were working out. Not even needing to see her, you can picture the exaggerated pout on her face based on her tone alone.
“He probably followed after that stupid bitch he’s always with.”
Your half lidded eyes meet San’s but he still pays no mind to them, digging his nails into your plush thighs. He pulls all the way out, just to slam his cock all the way back in. His pace leisures, but his power doesn’t, abusing your cunt with every snap of his hips.
“I think I’m gonna ask him out next time I see him. I have to stake my claim before someone else does.”
He holds back a laugh, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You drown out their conversation after that, too focused on the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so deliciously to even worry about those idiot girls. Little did they know he was closer than they thought…
Thankfully, they leave not much longer after that, and he uncovers your mouth. You gasp for air, panting feverishly when he picks up his speed again. Your bottom lip quivers with a whine, too fucked out to conjugate words that make sense.
“You’re taking me so well, baby. Taking me like a fucking princess,” San praises. He groans, water droplets slipping along the valleys of his sculpted chest and abdomen. It drips with every roll of his hips and every thrust of his cock into your pussy. This was what he had been building up to, what he’d been dreaming of for years. “Who’s fucking you like this?”
“Mmm,” you moan, supping him in deeper, further, as cavernous as humanly possible. “You, San— fuck— y-you are.”
You arch your back, sneaking a hand in the middle of the two of you and pressing the pads of your fingers harshly on your clit when you do so. San holds you closer to him so your pelvic bones nearly clash each time he punches into you. The change in depth that he fucks you has your cunt squelching, any semblance of coherent thought escaping you.
Your vision goes blank, stars decorating the backs of your eyelids as your second orgasm blindsides you. Not a sound leaves you after it knocks into you, cumming with so much force you think you might pass out in San’s arms. When you’ve finished, you let out a guttural groan, walls fluttering around his cock.
“Gonna cum— shit— where do—“ you interrupt him with a whimper.
“Cum inside of me,” your begging tone has him spilling into you practically on command. He fills you up perfectly, a moan from deep within him reaching your ears. You both stay like that for a moment, skin sticking to the other’s due to the thin sheen of sweat coupled with the steam of the shower coating your bodies.
You can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes, one of your hands coming up to caress his back gently. He pulls out with a wince, palms resting on either side of you as he recuperates. He breathes through his nostrils, forehead glued to your shoulder. His hands rub up and down your sides soothingly.
“It’s safe to assume you’re gonna turn that girl down when she asks you out, right?” You ask suddenly, attempting to diffuse whatever’s in the air between you now. San laughs into your shoulder.
“Y/N, I’m turning down any girl who asks me out from now on,” he stands upright, biting his lip before kissing you gently. “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that very much.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Girlfriend?”
“Am I being too overzealous?” His nose scrunches up.
“You’re being the right amount of zealous, I think,” you brush away a strand of wet hair that falls into his eyes. “But I think your ‘girlfriend’ would like it if you actually asked her to be your girlfriend.”
Choi San is the prettiest man you’ve ever set your sights on, but somehow, he looks even prettier smiling down at you after having sex with you in a gym shower. It’s a feat that should be considered illegal, and you should receive restitution for the distress it’s caused on your heart.
“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”
And well, maybe you’d deal with that later. It was kind of difficult to ignore that sparkle in his eyes, especially when it was directed at you. You nod without a second thought.
“I would love nothing more.”
© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez san#ateez choi san#choi san#choi san x reader#choi san smut#san x reader#san smut#yunhoszn
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“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”
Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!
“Solace!”
“Fuck,” Will curses.
Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.
“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”
“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”
“Solace!”
Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.
Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”
She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.
“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”
“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”
Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”
She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”
“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”
“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”
Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”
Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.
“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.
Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”
“Ugh.”
Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.
———
“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”
Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”
Will turns to her, opening his mouth —
“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.
— and closes it again, huffing.
“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.
Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”
The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”
“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”
Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.
“Thanks, Austin.”
“Of course! Love you Will!”
The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”
———
Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.
He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.
Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.
Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.
He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.
And therein lies the trouble.
“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”
Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”
“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”
“No, and then make you my partner forever.”
“Oh.”
Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)
“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”
Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.
His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.
The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.
The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.
The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.
The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.
Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.
Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.
As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.
“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.
He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”
Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”
There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.
“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”
Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.
“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”
The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.
Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.
“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”
“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”
They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.
“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”
“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.
Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.
The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.
With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.
As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.
But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.
For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.
Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —
The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.
It’s Harley.
Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.
A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.
But an effective one.
Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.
Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.
There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.
As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.
———
Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.
There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.
There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.
As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.
“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.
Nico understands.
“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”
He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”
He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.
As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.
“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.
“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”
Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.
Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.
He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.
He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.
The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.
Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.
“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.
She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.
He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.
Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.
He trudges forward.
“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”
Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.
“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”
He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…
He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.
Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.
“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.
“It hurts,” she croaks.
She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.
Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”
“Help me. Please.”
“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.
He holds her until the pain slowly stops.
———
Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.
“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.
He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.
“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.
He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.
———
“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”
Predictably, she only glowers.
“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.
Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.
“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.
Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”
“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”
Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.
“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”
“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”
“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”
She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.
“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”
“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”
Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.
“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”
The tactic works.
Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.
“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.
“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”
Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.
“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”
Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.
“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”
Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”
The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.
“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”
Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.
“Come here.”
Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.
Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.
“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”
Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”
“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”
His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.
“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.
Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”
Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.
“As long as you need.”
———
The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.
Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.
Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.
They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.
The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.
“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.
Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”
“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”
Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.
“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”
Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”
“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”
“I know.”
“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”
Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”
“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”
Will smiles. “Thank you.”
For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.
“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”
Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”
“Uh-huh.”
His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.
“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”
———
On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.
“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”
Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”
Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.
He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.
“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”
“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”
“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”
Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.
“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.
“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.
They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.
Competition will be hefty.
Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.
Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.
There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.
The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.
The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.
In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.
The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.
Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.
They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.
Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.
As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.
With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.
Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.
Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.
Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.
Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.
Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”
Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.
If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.
All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.
Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.
Will hesitates.
The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.
It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.
The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.
The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.
———
As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.
“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”
“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”
“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”
“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”
“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”
“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”
It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.
Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.
“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”
A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.
Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”
“You don’t get to say that to me.”
Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.
Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.
But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.
“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”
Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.
“Will, I —”
The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.
No one even moves.
———
Predictably, the silence does not last long.
“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”
Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”
Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”
While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.
“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”
Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”
“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“
“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.
She nods, then disappears back into her tree.
Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.
He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.
Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.
On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.
Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.
Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.
He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.
“Will.”
Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.
Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.
“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”
He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.
Will comes easily.
With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”
Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.
“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”
He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.
“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”
For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.
When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.
Until Will.
Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.
He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.
“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.
———
By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.
“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.
Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”
“We can’t stay here forever.”
“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”
“What if I’ll never have enough time?”
“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I don’t want to be strong.”
“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”
They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.
“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”
Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”
“All of us.”
“And you resent her for it, a little.”
Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”
“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”
Will glances away. “No.”
“Will, you — look at me.”
He does.
“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”
“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”
“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”
“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”
Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.
“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”
Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”
‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.
“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”
He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”
“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”
“Not in front of anyone.”
“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.
Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”
“How?”
“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”
“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”
“You can, too, you know, I lo —”
“I know.”
Will exhales in relief. “Good.”
He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.
“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”
“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”
#HOLY SHIT THIS OVERTOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FOR LIKE SEVEN HOURS#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo & will solace#nico di angelo/will solace#will/nico#nico/will#will solace angst#will solace & clarisse larue#character study#angst and humor#longpost#solangelo#my writing#angry will solace#and righteously so#is this a nico study disguised as a will study or a will study disguised as a nico study?#who knows#not me
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sideshow | jjk
You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.
Word count: 9k
Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.
# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*
A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.
You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.
Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.
But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.
Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.
Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.
In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.
“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”
You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”
“And I do!”
“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”
Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.
So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.
The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.
You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.
The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.
Then you turn around.
“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”
You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.
“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.
His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.
“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”
He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.
Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.
“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Y/N! Are you okay?”
Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.
Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”
“Hm?”
“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”
“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.
Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.
“Do you think he likes you back?”
You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”
Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.
“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”
With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.
When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:
“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”
Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.
“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.
“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”
Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”
“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”
“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”
“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”
“Uh, yeah?”
She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”
You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.
“What if he says no?”
“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”
Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.
“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.
Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”
The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.
You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.
There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.
“Hey.”
“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”
Oh, that was nice. Very nice.
You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”
“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”
“Not exactly.”
Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.
“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.
He’s looking at you in complete silence.
Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”
Ah.
Of course he knows.
He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.
“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”
Your heart is beating fast too.
“Me?”
Well, I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.
You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”
“I, uh...”
“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”
“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.
In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:
“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”
You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:
“Wait!”
You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.
Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”
“Bye…”
By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.
You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.
Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.
[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.
[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.
[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.
Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.
[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?
[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.
Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.
[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!
[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean
Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message
Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message
The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.
After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.
“Hi, come in.”
You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”
You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.
“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”
Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.
“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”
“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”
He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”
“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”
“Cool.”
“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”
He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”
You nod slowly and clear your throat.
Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.
“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”
“Thank you…”
You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.
You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.
You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”
Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.
“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”
When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”
“O-okay, gotcha.”
Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.
You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.
What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.
“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”
When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.
It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.
“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”
Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.
You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.
Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.
Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.
“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.
As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.
“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”
You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”
“I-I don’t know what—”
You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.
“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”
Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.
“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”
Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”
Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.
Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.
On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.
Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.
Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.
“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”
You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”
Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.
Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.
You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.
“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.
Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”
“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”
“And— if I do?”
Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—
“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”
Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.
“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.
But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.
“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”
Jungkook goes still.
“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.
“I—”
You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”
“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”
“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.
“S-stop lying!”
“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”
You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.
“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”
“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.
Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.
“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”
The woman was too stunned to speak.
“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”
The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.
And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.
You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”
“M-mommy, please—”
“Ugh, shut up.”
Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.
He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.
It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.
Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.
Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.
“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”
His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.
“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.
He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.
Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.
Shit.
You’ve gone off script enough as it is.
You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”
Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.
It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.
Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.
It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.
Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.
His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.
Shit, you’re dripping.
“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.
As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.
Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.
“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.
Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.
Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.
Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”
You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.
He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.
But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.
“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.
“W-what?”
“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”
A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”
“Let me return the favour.”
While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.
“F-fuck!”
You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.
Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.
You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.
Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.
His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.
“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”
You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.
“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.
“Dunno—”
“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”
Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.
To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”
You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.
Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.
“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.
Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”
With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.
Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.
“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”
Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.
“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”
Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.
Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”
“I’m not a pervert!”
“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”
“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.
“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”
To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.
“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”
“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”
“Fuck—”
You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.
Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.
“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”
Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.
Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.
Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.
You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.
“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”
As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.
“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.
Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.
He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”
Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.
You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.
“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”
Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.
You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.
“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”
Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”
Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.
Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.
“Please,” Jungkook cries out.
“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“
Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.
You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
“Please!” he begs.
The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.
With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.
“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”
When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.
“M-mommy—”
You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.
“Mommy,” he calls again.
“Yeah…?”
“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”
“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.
He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.
You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.
“Let me take care of you.”
Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.
Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.
Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.
“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”
You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.
Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.
“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.
You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.
He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.
“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.
His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.
You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.
Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.
“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.
After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.
“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”
In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.
“Good.”
You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?
“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.
Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”
Courage.
“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”
“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”
The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.
“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.
“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”
“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”
“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.
Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”
“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”
He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”
You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.
“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”
He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”
“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”
Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3
“Sideshow” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.
TAG LIST
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#jungkook smut#sub!jungkook#jungkook fanfiction#oneshot#jungkookff#661010#romance#mutualpining#coffeeshop#camboy#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook bts#bts x reader
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BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT
THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!
YOU’RE INVITED!
PAIRING tbz x f!reader
GENRES smut ﹒fluff ﹒minimal angst ﹒crack
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mature language, mentions of alcohol, sexual content, more warnings per individual fic!
SUMMARY have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? if so, then these fics are just for you! join us as we take a glimpse into the tau beta zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!
MORE LETS GAURRRRR i’m so excited to announce this collab with loml reese both as a cute fun little idea we had and in celebration of her 1 year tumblr anniversary! we also realized it happened to be the same day as tbz day LOL so that’s kinda crazy 😭 my boyz have been here for 6 years wow 💔 anyways i hope all of u love these as much as we do! and always, don’t forget to rb if u enjoyed!! send an ask if u’d like to be tagged in these <3
PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies
FALL SEMESTER
TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)
Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)
EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)
You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.
SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)
It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of school work for you.
CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)
When Haknyeon ran into you at a TBZ party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. Or literally. Or both simultaneously. But there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.
“FRIENDLY” COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)
The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?
JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)
Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.
SPRING SEMESTER
LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)
Younghoon has hated you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?
(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)
Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.
NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)
When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.
PARTY O’CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)
In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.
PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 1/1, PT. 2 1/3)
It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.
© juyeonszn & itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#deoboyznet#the boyz#the boyz x reader#the boyz smut#tbz x reader#tbz smut#lee sangyeon x reader#lee sangyeon smut#jacob bae x reader#jacob bae smut#kim younghoon x reader#kim younghoon smut#lee hyunjae x reader#lee hyunjae smut#lee juyeon x reader#lee juyeon smut#kevin moon x reader#kevin moon smut#choi chanhee x reader#choi chanhee smut#ji changmin x reader#ji changmin smut#ju haknyeon x reader#ju haknyeon smut#kim sunwoo x reader#kim sunwoo smut#eric sohn x reader#eric sohn smut#juyeonszn#blackoutorbackout🍻
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when we begin again
ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: Explicit (18+ only!)
warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap
word count: 4.1k
summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.
A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go.
This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.
follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics
"Hrrrmph!"
Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.
It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.
Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.
"Joel -"
Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.
Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.
Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.
"You want me to stop?" he growls.
"No, I just -"
"Then quit your complainin'."
You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.
"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.
"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.
"I never said that."
"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."
And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.
Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.
So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.
In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.
Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.
You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.
Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.
"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"
Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.
"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."
He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"
There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.
And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.
You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.
"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"
You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.
"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.
You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.
"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"
"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."
You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"
"Mm."
"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"
"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."
And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -
"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."
There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.
You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.
"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."
You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.
The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.
And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.
Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.
"Let me -"
But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.
You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.
"Your hand, Joel, I can -"
"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.
Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.
"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.
"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"
"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."
He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.
"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."
His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.
Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.
"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."
You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.
You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."
It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.
"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"
"Yours."
"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."
Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.
"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.
A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.
The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.
"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."
Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.
You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.
"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.
Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.
When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.
Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.
Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.
"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.
Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.
"Oh."
Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."
With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.
"What're these for?"
"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.
"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"
"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.
He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.
"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.
"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.
"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."
"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.
Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.
"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."
You weren't going to argue with him there.
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#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal characters#joel miller/reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#fic: SWAT#coveted fics
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The Ultimatum | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hello! I've been BUSY as fuck with school lately, y'all. It is truly a nightmare. I'm talking tests on tests on tests on finals on finals. But I'm almost done with the semester and I FINALLY finished this fic that I've been working on for-fucking-ever. It's got the angst and the yearning and the pain with a happy ending, which is my fave. Thanks for reading and thanks for being patient while I suffer through school :)
Word count: 9.6k
Warnings: implied emotional abuse, manipulative boyfriend, anxiety, general sad vibes (but happy ending, as always <3)
At this point, Bucky had almost forgotten how to react to a knock at the door. He stood almost frozen, not quite recognizing the sound of knuckles against the wood. It seemed to him like a foreign, otherworldly occurrence. Like something newsworthy, something he’d see on the front page. He didn’t ever get visitors- well, at least not anymore.
It struck him as odd, the thought of an unsolicited visitor dropping by- and so late; it was almost eleven. And though he didn’t feel like making small talk with the old lady who lived across the hall, he figured he should open the door. Maybe his elderly neighbor needed help. Maybe she locked herself out and needed somewhere to wait for the landlord. And who was he to ignore her? She was always sweet. She treated him not like a monster, but a human being. And to Bucky, that was a novel experience- something worthy of backpay. So, if she needed to hang around his apartment for a while until the landlord arrived to unlock her door, he’d let her.
But when he opened the front door, he didn’t find old Mrs. Beverly. A sharp inhale barreled into him at the sight of you waiting on his welcome mat, the same one that you always joked about; you told him time and time again he should’ve called it a “go away mat”.
Everything inside Bucky came screeching to a halt. No heartbeat, no thoughts. Just shock. A rush of goosebumps flashed over his skin at the mere sight of you within arm’s reach once again. An immediate smile splashed across his face- a smile he hadn’t worn since the last time he saw you. Butterflies swarmed inside his stomach and wriggled into his lungs, their wings constricting his breathing. Seeing you again was the first day of spring after a seemingly never-ending winter. The first rays of sun poking through frost riddled branches and dead leaves. This was salvation.
“You said…” This was harder than you expected. Seeing Bucky again warmed parts of you that you didn’t know had gone cold. Just the sight of him helped you breathe easier. He made you lighter, calmer. He brought you a sense of comfort you stopped searching for months ago. Around him, all your sharp edges softened. But you didn’t know how to talk to him- not anymore. At one time, he was your safe place- the safest place you could imagine. During the bitterest of winters, he was your hearth, your home. You shared a secret language spoken only by the two of you.
But not anymore. Not for a while now.
You weren’t the same person you’d been when you knew him. To some, it was an imperceptible change. But you felt it every day. Missing Bucky wormed its way into your cells, tangling itself with your DNA. It became a building block of your very being. Losing him damaged your soul, leaving the edges frayed and torn.
The stark silence of the empty hallway made Bucky’s ears ring. He stared at you, his mouth slightly ajar, a look of bewilderment on his face. He took in the mascara smeared beneath your eyes, the soaking wet clothes hanging from your body. Only the quiet drip drip drip of water leaving your drenched hair dared disturb the silence.
The words you rehearsed on your way over dissolved. They abandoned you without a trace, leaving only one clumsy sentence in their place. “You said I could always come here if I needed you,” you finally said.
All Bucky could do was nod.
“Well… I need you,” you threw him a sheepish smile. “Can I come in?”
Again, Bucky nodded. His thoughts raced and collided with each other, filling his mind with noise. But he managed an “of course”; he needed you to know you were welcome. Of course, you were welcome. You were always welcome. He just hadn’t had the pleasure of inviting you into his home in what felt like a lifetime.
A deep sigh of relief left your chest. Part of you expected him to slam the door in your face. You squeezed past him, careful not to brush against his clothes and get him all wet- though he wouldn’t have minded. He was just happy to see you again.
The sound of your wet sneakers squeaking across the hardwood set your nerves on edge. But being back in his apartment eased them right away. This space used to be your home away from home, the place you felt most comfortable. Sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you thought about its worn, wood floors or the orange light that poured through the windows at sunset. Just thinking about the way this place cloaked you in safety and warmth remedied your anxious mind and eased you into a peaceful sleep.
Everything sat in nearly the exact same place as the last time you were here. That was just like Bucky- constant, consistent. But as you let your gaze drift over the room, you noticed a few foreign pieces of décor. He’d gotten some new furnishings since you last visited. A cozy-looking blanket lay strewn across the couch. A large armchair- perfect for reading- sat next to the window.
All this time, you worried about Bucky. You wondered how he was getting along, how he was handling things on his own. But he was okay. He made good on his chance at a new life. You only wished you could’ve been a part of it.
A thousand questions swarmed inside of Bucky’s brain. He had so many things to ask you, so much he wanted to catch up on. But one question sat at the top of his list. It was his first priority, his greatest worry: “Are you okay?”
A large huff left your chest, “I got into a big fight with Alex.” Part of you feared you were being dramatic. Bucky would never judge you- you knew he wouldn’t. But showing up out of the blue, late at night, drenched from head to toe because you argued with your boyfriend felt ridiculous. Maybe even pathetic. “He got mad- he didn’t want me to go out with my friends tonight,” you sighed. “Because I didn’t ask him first.”
“Because you didn’t ask him first?” Bucky nearly scoffed, “What- is he your father?” He checked himself immediately. A soft, “sorry” followed his less than subtle dig at your boyfriend, his attempt to assuage his mistake. He didn’t want you to put you on the defensive or make you regret your decision to reach out. Clearly, you needed him. And Bucky wasn’t about to ruin your attempt at seeking help.
But a quiet laugh pushed its way past your lips, easing Bucky’s worries. He always knew how to validate your feelings. “He was just being so-” you dragged your palms down your damp cheeks and thought back on the argument. “He’s so difficult. Sometimes, I feel like I’m on a leash or something. A short leash.”
Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He mulled over his next words, careful not to let another outburst escape without his permission. But a pressing thought jumped through his lips without warning. “Wait- why are you all wet?” Bucky said. “Sorry, I- we absolutely need to talk about what happened. But… you’re soaked. What happened?”
With a swipe of your hand, you rid your forehead of a few water droplets that tried to escape your hairline. “Well, it’s pouring,” you gestured toward the rain-spattered window. “And I walked here.”
His eyes went wide, “you walked here? From your place?”
You nodded.
Your demeanor was all too casual for Bucky. With decent weather- in the daylight- the walk wasn’t that bad. But in a torrential downpour at 11pm, it was dangerous. It was far. “Jesus Christ…” Bucky couldn’t believe you did such a thing. It wasn’t safe- not with the rain, and especially not with the suspicious men that lurked the city streets at night. He thanked the universe you hadn’t been preyed upon on your journey to his apartment. “Why’d you walk?”
“Alex wouldn’t give me my purse,” you punctuated your sentence with the crossing of your arms. “We were fighting about me going out with my friends. And then things kinda blew up and he took my fucking purse.” The anger smoldering in your chest scorched through every blood vessel, broiling your cells. “He thought that if I didn’t have my keys or my wallet, he could stop me from going out.”
Bucky matched your eye roll with one of his own. He could practically see the short leash you mentioned only moments ago. He couldn’t believe Alex took your things. Well, he could believe it- he just didn’t want to imagine you in such a situation. It seemed to Bucky that Alex wanted to keep you locked away like a princess in a tower; and Alex played the role of the fire-breathing dragon.
“And then I missed out on dinner and dancing with the girls anyway cause our argument blew up.” A swift sadness snuffed out your sizzling rage. “So, I guess he won after all…” This night out with your friends was the one thing keeping you sane the past few weeks. Every time Alex did something to hurt you, to disrespect or belittle you, you thought about seeing your friends. About having a glass of wine or two and spending a few hours with the women in your life. You wanted to hear about their promotions, their wedding planning, their upcoming vacations. But most of all, you wanted their comfort.
And he stole that from you.
Bucky wanted to wring Alex’s neck. He wanted to make him disappear. He wanted to cut you free from the cement blocks Alex tied to your feet. But the sharp shiver that rocketed through your body put those thoughts on pause.
“Here, let’s get you some dry clothes to change into, alright?”
“Oh… that’s-” You shook your head. Sure, you wanted to change out of your sopping wet clothes and into something cozier. But you didn’t deserve Bucky’s kindness or concern. Not anymore. You couldn’t let him do this for you, not after you showed up unannounced. Not after what you did. “That’s okay. I’m fine. Really.”
But Bucky clocked the shaking in your fingers, the way you fought to keep your teeth from chattering. “Come on, it’s okay.” He reached for your icy hand and gave it a squeeze, only for a brief second. But it was enough to warm you from the inside out. “We both know you’re freezing. Just let me give you something to wear for a while. Okay?” He sensed the trepidation in your expression, the way you avoided eye contact. “It’s not an imposition or anything like that- just a friend helping a friend.” The patience and understanding behind his warm smile was so genuine, so authentic- you couldn’t help but believe him.
And though you knew it wasn’t right to accept his kind gesture, you couldn’t help yourself. The cold pierced through your bones and chilled you to the very soul- you weren’t strong enough to resist his offer. And, selfishly, you wanted to wrap yourself in Bucky’s clothes. They were always cozier, more comfortable than your own. The fabric seemed to hang on to his warm scent; you never realized you could miss a smell so much until it vanished from your own clothes. Your hair.
“Um, okay. Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you.”
Your acceptance of his offer made Bucky beam- but you were still stuck on him referring to you as a friend. After all this time, after what you did to him, you couldn’t believe he’d still regard you with such affection.
You slipped out of your sneakers and socks and followed Bucky down the familiar hall to his bedroom. The memories embedded in these walls were your favorite days. Your most comfortable nights. Coming back to Bucky’s place allowed you to visit them all once again- something you never permitted anymore. Conjuring those memories brought you the greatest comfort and the sharpest, most soul-crushing pain. Seeking salvation in the past only served to remind you that Bucky was no longer part of your present, nor your future. And that hurt worse than any gunshot wound.
Just to be safe, you secured those happy memories in vault and buried it deep inside your mind, never allowing them to escape or see the light of day.
But it was a crushing loss.
“So, um… why didn’t you call?” Bucky looked over his shoulder for a split second, as though to make sure you were following him. “I would’ve picked you up, that way you wouldn’t have had to walk in the rain…”
Of course, he would’ve. He would’ve given his remaining arm for you.
You pulled at your soaking wet t-shirt, desperate to distract yourself. This was too awkward, too pathetic.
“I was afraid that…” You cleared your throat. “I um, I didn’t think you’d answer. Cause of what I did.” The wet hem of your t-shirt gave you little relief as you picked at its stitching to stem the anxiety. “I thought it was better if I just- you know, if I just came here. If I just showed up.” You rolled your eyes at your own logic, “if I called, there was a chance you wouldn’t answer.”
Bucky shook his head, “I would’ve-”
“I didn’t wanna chance it,” you said. “Cause if you blocked my number and that’s how I found out, I might’ve walked into traffic.”
Bucky knew you too well, knew you were making a joke to hide your very real fear of his rejection. “Well, I didn’t block your number,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know how.” And before you could spiral, Bucky turned to face you. “I would’ve answered. I will always answer.” His words were so genuine, so steadfast, that you nearly stopped breathing.
“I think I knew that…” you said, your voice almost imperceptible. “I think it scared me.”
Even after all this time apart, he remembered the way your voice grew thin when shame got the best of you. If he were being honest, he thought about the sound of your voice every day.
He knew you well enough to know when you were nervous. When you couldn’t stand to make eye contact. And so, he turned his back to you and continued in the direction of his bedroom, giving you a moment to yourself.
“Here we are,” Bucky pushed open his bedroom door and gestured for you to enter, allowing you to go ahead of him. But he sensed your hesitation, your uneasiness. He clocked it in the way your eyes just missed his, the way your fingers pulled at the fabric of your shirt. The two of you stood there in the hallway, stalling outside his bedroom door as though trapped in wet cement. Bucky broke free first.
“Alright, let’s find you something comfortable!” He dipped his words in positivity and
threw a too-cheery affectation on top for good measure. He just wanted to make you feel more at ease, more relaxed. But he knew a dry shirt and some sweatpants couldn’t fix the damage Alex did.
It was more than that, though. Bucky could feel the uncomfortable tension radiating off you like rays of the sun. You didn’t know how to act around him now, didn’t know how to navigate the crumbled ruins of your relationship. It was obvious. You didn’t readily enter his bedroom- how could you? You didn’t feel entitled to that space- or any space of his- anymore. And Bucky was going to change your mind or die trying.
“Okay, so you definitely need a pair of socks…” He rifled through his top drawer until he found a pair thick enough to keep you warm.
“And sweatpants? Yeah?” He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your approval.
You nodded. You’d accept anything he gave you- or didn’t give you. You didn’t have the right to his help, his clothes, or his comforts.
But he pushed on. Happily. He scrounged around the shelves in his closet and in his dresser drawers, searching for a pair that would fit.
And as he dug through seemingly every article of clothing he owned, you gave the room a once over. He’d gotten a small, slightly shabby bookshelf in the time since you last saw the place. An army of novels with cracked spines and distressed covers lined the warped wood like soldiers protecting him from the nightmares. He still only had one pillow, and his sheets were the same dark gray cotton. But his bedspread was new; it was the same one you advised he get for the colder months. At the time, he said he didn’t need anything heavier than the thin blanket that adorned his bed. And you knew it was just another way for him to punish himself, to refuse even the slightest comfort.
But the insulation in his cheap apartment did nothing to provide a reprieve from the biting winter. And clearly, he caved to your recommendation- even after things between you went south. A small smile crept across your face at the thought. At least you’d been able to help him in some way or another. Because of you, he stayed warm. He protected himself from the frigid temperatures. It eased your conscience, no matter how slightly.
“I think these will work…” Bucky held a pair of sweatpants up to your body. “I mean, they’re still gonna be way too big, but they’re the smallest pair I have.” He outstretched his hand and offered them to you, “we can tie the waist really tight and roll ‘em up so they’re not too long- don’t want you to trip.”
You hesitated for only a moment, unable to resist the dry, warm fabric of his worn sweats.
“Oh- you need a top,” he said, making his way toward the closet once again, “I have just the thing…” He reached up toward the top shelf of his closet in search of something; and before he had the chance to show you, you realized just what he was looking for.
It was what you used to wear at Bucky’s as makeshift pajamas or when it got too cold. He used to say it was yours just as much as it was his. Back then, you slept over by accident a few times a week. Sometimes, he needed you late at night. Sometimes, he just needed you to be there while he slept- he was more comfortable that way. You always made him feel safe. But after one too many nights of you struggling to sleep in uncomfortable clothes, Bucky presented you with this very sweatshirt. He wanted to give you something- anything- to make you more comfortable. And so, he dug around his closet for his coziest, most comforting crewneck.
It came in handy every time the heating failed and the shotty insulation left you chilled to the bone. Bucky always pulled it out for you and watched with a smile as you tugged the soft, green fabric over your head. Sure, the heat at your apartment worked great. At home, you didn’t have to dress in layers or drink endless ups of scalding hot tea to keep warm.
But some days, Bucky couldn’t stand to leave the house. And you couldn’t let him rot away all alone. So, you made your way to his place, in rain or snow, and sat with him. Talked with him. Made him tea and brought him food.
He hadn’t been able to touch that sweatshirt ever since you left. Didn’t even want to look at it. But he kept it clean for you- just in case.
“Is this okay?” Memory after memory of you accepting this very sweatshirt flashed through Bucky’s head. It used to be a routine of sorts, but it felt foreign now.
Something in you nearly cracked. This whole thing was too much. It seemed like you’d been dropped into a film about your own life, and someone behind the camera forced you to play out this scene just to hurt you. It made you ache for before. Before you left, before things fell apart, before you made the decision you knew was wrong.
Bucky stared at you, an expectant look on his face. He waited for you to take the relic of the better days you once shared, hoping it would bring them back to life.
But you hesitated. You eyed the garment, fearing the fabric would send you into a spiral. The threads were heavy with memories. And after everything you did, who were you to accept this gesture of goodwill?
“This is- I really appreciate it. But…” you refused the sweatshirt. And instead, tried to hand the sweatpants and socks back to Bucky. “I can’t accept all this. It’s not-”
“Yes, you can.” Bucky’s words were definitive. He allowed no room for arguments. “You’ll be a lot warmer.” He offered you a gentle smile and once again stretched the sweatshirt in your direction. “Get changed and we can put your clothes in the dryer,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be right outside.”
A nod and a quiet “thank you” were all you could muster. And as Bucky left the room and shut the door, you wondered how he could possibly treat you so kindly after what happened. Ever since you left, you berated yourself daily. It was part of your routine now, almost like you’d penciled it into your calendar. The guilt kept you up at night and distracted you during the workday.
But Bucky was a good person. And he’d never hate you the way you hated yourself.
Slipping into his sweatshirt felt almost criminal. You saved it for last, choosing first to shimmy into his sweatpants and wrap your feet in his warm socks. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right- none of this was right. Allowing Bucky to treat you with such hospitality, such care, wasn’t fair to him- not after what you put him through. But as you tugged his sweatshirt over your head, your selfishness eclipsed that feeling of wrongdoing.
It was just as you remembered it- oversized but not massive. Warm but not suffocating. The worn fabric eased over your skin and cloaked you in the kind of comfort you knew you didn’t deserve. And for the first time since you left, you experienced genuine comfort.
“Oh, hey,” Bucky was waiting for you in the hall, just like he said he would. “I’ll take those,” he took your wet clothes and nearly recoiled at just how cold the fabric felt against his skin. You must’ve been miserable- and yet, you’d tried to refuse the dry clothes he offered. His heart broke for you all over again. He tossed the piled of sopping fabric into the dryer and shot you a kind smile.
Bucky stared at you as the machine began to rumble; part of him wondered if this was real. He’d had plenty of dreams about this moment, about your return to his life. But none were ever this real, this believable. And as he observed you standing there in his old sweatshirt, he decided that if this was all some strange, lucid concoction of his psyche, he never wanted to wake up.
But the trembling in your hands caught his attention once again, pulling his smile into a deep frown. The warm, dry clothes did their best to shake the chill, but to no avail.
“Let me make you some tea,” Bucky gestured toward the kitchen. “I have some-”
“Oh, that’s okay.” You tucked your shaking hands into the long sleeves of Bucky’s sweatshirt, flashing him a forced smile. “I’ll warm up in a minute.”
His old, familiar eyeroll brought a real smile to your face with ease. The two of you fell back into your old habits, your old way of relating, far too easily. Before you left, he always tried to give you things or do things for you when you hung out at his place. He knew his apartment was shitty, that you gave up time with your friends and boyfriend for him. And to compensate, he always had an offer in his back pocket: tea, takeout, baked goods from the place down the street. He had to make up for the burden he placed on you. And every time, you refused. The two of you would fake argue and banter until you finally conceded. And, with a smile, he’d make you a cup of tea or braid your hair the way Shuri showed him.
You knew how much it meant to him to be able to give you something in return for your kindness- no matter how many times you told him your friendship wasn’t transactional.
“I’m making you some tea, d-” Bucky caught himself, cutting off the word that rested on the tip of his tongue. He knew he shouldn’t call you ‘doll’ anymore. With a forced clearing of his throat, he pivoted. “I have some jasmine. Is that still your go-to?”
You nodded. Deep within you, an ache for your old nickname stirred.
Bucky busied his hands with mugs and sugar and spoons. He always kept your favorite jasmine tea on hand, just in case. It stayed in the cupboard, front and center, ready for your return. But the box sat untouched. He hadn’t made any- not since you left. Just the smell of it was enough to break his heart all over again.
Every time he opened that cabinet, your tea stared back at him. And though seeing it threw him back in time and punched him in the gut with longing, he couldn’t get rid of it. Throwing it out would mean that you’d never come back, and he couldn’t accept that.
Bucky put the kettle on and tiptoed into rocky territory. “So, can I ask…” he toyed with a spoon, avoiding eye contact, “why didn’t you call an Uber or something?”
A pang of embarrassment jolted through you like lightning. Admitting the truth of your relationship only served to make you feel stupid. You’d lost count of the number of times your friends gasped or booed when you told them about something Alex did or said. And though you knew that the urge to hide his less-than-loving tendencies was a blood red flag in and of itself, you couldn’t help it.
But you didn’t have to hide with Bucky. Ever.
“I deleted my rideshare accounts,” you sighed. “Or- Alex did. He doesn’t like me using them cause he doesn’t trust that I won’t-”
You cut your next thought off at the knees. Months ago, Alex confronted you about your use of ride share apps. He suspected you of cheating, of sneaking away. His words dripped with contempt as he spat accusation after accusation your way, never stopping to listen to the truth. Sometimes, you needed a ride to work. Or to your sister’s house. But he didn’t care. “I know you’ve been going to see him- to see Barnes,” he’d said, “I know you’ve been going to see that psycho.”
That night, while you slept, he deleted your Uber and Lyft accounts and forbade you from ever downloading the apps again.
“He also cut up my Metro card,” you said, your voice quieter now. Admitting these things felt traitorous. Treasonous. Like giving intel to the opposing side. Alex didn’t like Bucky. And Bucky didn’t like Alex- rightfully so. Spilling your guts supplied Bucky with enough ammo to destroy the man you supposedly loved. But Bucky didn’t fire a single shot.
He, instead, wrangled his negative thoughts about Alex and locked them away for the time being. The strong urge tear your shitty boyfriend apart rattled inside Bucky’s brain. It clawed and thrashed at the bars of the cage in which Bucky trapped it. Talking shit about your boyfriend, while satisfying, wasn’t important. You were Bucky’s top priority. He needed to make sure you were comfortable, that you felt safe. There was something in the way you spoke about Alex; a not-so-subtle tinge of anxiety- of fear- that tarnished every word you said about him. And thinking about the cause turned Bucky’s stomach.
He just wanted to be there for you, whatever that meant. If you needed to vent, Bucky would listen. If you needed to cry, he’d offer you his shoulder. And if you needed to sit in silence, drinking your tea, and pretending your boyfriend didn’t exist for a while, Bucky would join you in the quiet.
“Oh. Um…” Bucky didn’t know what to say. His anger toward your boyfriend boiled under the surface, but he didn’t dare let it overflow. Instead, he pulled the kettle from the stove just as it started to sing. “Well… I’m glad you made it here safely,” he said. It was all he could think of.
You shrugged, “I kinda ruined your Saturday night, though.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and gave you a laugh, “you could never ruin my night.”
Without a second thought or a moment’s pause, he prepared your tea just the way you liked it. Even after all this time, even after the issues with his memory, he never forgot. He delivered a perfect splash of milk, a flawless dose of sugar. It was as though he’d done this just yesterday- and all the days before.
“Plus, do you really think I had plans tonight?” Bucky said as he handed you your tea.
“Hey, I don’t know…” you sipped your tea; it was even the perfect temperature. “Maybe you’re a real social butterfly now. Maybe you have a weekly poker game or plans with Sam.” You shrugged, “maybe you have a girlfriend.”
Things fell quiet after that. Bucky sipped at his tea. You scratched absentmindedly at the tile counter. Neither of you knew what to say or how to say it. And it crushed you. Before, the conversation between you and Bucky flowed so easily, so smoothly. You read each other’s’ minds and anticipated nearly every word. And in the silences, things were comfortable. Cozy. Content.
This was awkward, tense. It sent a shiver up your spine.
“You’re still freezing.” A worried scowl carved a deep line in Bucky’s forehead. “Come on, let’s get you under a blanket, okay?” He wrapped an arm around you back- loosely- and guided you toward the living room.
The gesture almost made you tear up. Bucky was always so kind. So gentle and soft and warm. It was a warmth you hadn’t experienced in a long time. But part of you almost wanted to distrust his kindness. It seemed to you like an omen, a kind of warning. Or even a trap. At home, sweet gestures like these always meant trouble brewing beneath the surface. They led to shouting and crying. To accusations and fear and distrust.
They came with a catch.
Bucky didn’t.
He simply held your tea while you got comfortable on the couch. He wrapped you in a blanket and asked if you wanted another. And when he was confident that you were, indeed, warming up, he joined you.
“This might sound pathetic,” Bucky said as he settle into his spot on the couch, “this is the best night that I’ve had in a really long time.” He knew you were only in his home due to unfortunate, unkind circumstances. He knew he shouldn’t be celebrating your showing up sopping wet at his apartment late at night, not when he knew what made you do so.
But he so was happy to see you.
Things fell quiet after that. You left all of your peace behind the last time you left Bucky’s apartment. You ripped it from your chest and piled it in a corner, abandoning it for your new life. Sure, it hurt. And it left you feeling empty. But it had to be done, didn’t it?
All your life, people emphasized the importance of marriage. Of settling down. They told you that relationships are always hard, that they aren’t like fairytales. And so, you accepted Alex’s empty promises and twisted definition of love. And even when you expressed to your parents that you weren’t sure about Alex, they talked you into staying with him. They cited your age, how difficult it would be to find a husband as you got even older. They scared you into accepting less than you deserved. They scared you into leaving Bucky behind.
Yes, it was you who ultimately made the decision to end your friendship with the kindest person you’d ever known. But you knew you’d never let go of the grudge you held against those in your life who convinced you to settle for Alex. To cut Bucky out of your life. They robbed you of so much time with him, time you’d never get back. And just the thought of all those lost days sent you into deep, endless grief.
Bucky spoke up after a while, “Do you wanna talk about it?” He didn’t want to pry or come on too strong; something in him feared it would scare you off. If this was where you sought solace, if this was where you felt safest, who was he to disturb your newfound sense of peace?
“You don’t have to,” he said, “but you can if you want.”
You did want to talk to Bucky about what happened. You wanted to spill your guts and vomit every less than blissful detail about your life with Alex. Talking to your girlfriends was nice and of course, your therapist was helpful- but there was something about Bucky. He was the only person who really understood you, who could read between the lines and grasp the feelings you struggled to put into words.
But pulling at that thread was dangerous. You’d already tugged at a few pieces, unraveled some shameful details about how things were at home. And if you gave that frayed thread another yank, you feared that every damaged, knotted strand would fall on full display at Bucky’s feet. The prospect scared you more than your late-night walk to Bucky’s.
And who were you to dump your relationship issues on him, anyway? Who were you to disappear with barely any warning, only to show up and vent on his couch? It wasn’t right- none of this was right. Sure, parts of this night were irreversible. You were already there, wearing his clothes, drinking his tea, and sitting on his couch. But you could stop yourself from burdening him any further. You could sew up your leaky wounds and snap your mouth shut, saving him from any more of your grief.
You sidestepped his offer, “No, it’s okay- catch me up on things with you. I wanna know everything.”
Bucky gave you a look. Even after all your time away, he could still read you like the Sunday paper. He knew how badly you needed to simply let go, to unburden yourself. But he knew you wouldn’t.
Your reluctance to share wasn’t a question of his listening skills or your level of comfort with him; it was the shame. He could practically see the guilt oozing from your pores. You didn’t feel as though you deserved to bare your soul to him. It was obvious, perfectly illustrated in the way you yanked your lips into a tight smile each time he looked at you. Showing up at his place unannounced after a seemingly eternal bout of radio silence was one thing. But dumping your problems in his lap? Burying him under your relationship drama? That was simply not allowed.
And so, he told you all about his life- the version that didn’t include you. He told you about the missions he’d been on and the injuries he sustained. The amends. The shitty, court appointed therapist who treated him more like a criminal than a client. The boat he fixed up with Sam. The old man with whom he ate lunch every week.
He almost seemed happy. Almost. He actually had a life now. A friend who wasn’t also a coworker. He went on a date. Sure, there were things to be desired. He still had nightmares. Anxiety. He still wrestled with the ghosts of his past and the fear of his future. But he was doing better. And while it was all you ever wanted for him, it stung knowing you didn’t get to see him make these strides in real time.
“Wow, you’ve been busy,” you said when he finally finished. “I gotta know more about your lunch dates with this Yori guy- that is adorable.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed his first genuine laugh in months. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I met him as part of my amends, but I-”
A harsh knock at the door cut him off. Both your eyes and Bucky’s slid in the direction of the sound. And though neither of you said a word, the air in the room changed. It grew thick and heavy, weighted down with an almost sickening dread.
Bucky locked eyes with you, his stare tunneling through your skull.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, keeping his voice low.
You nodded.
A guttural groan clawed and kicked at your throat, but you refused to set it free.
His voice was low, his volume calculated, “We’ll just be quiet.” Bucky glanced at the door once more, waiting for another round of knocks. “He won’t know we’re here, okay?”
You could barely hear him over the hum of the fridge, the sounds of the city. You gave a slow, subtle nod, fearing the sound even the slightest motion might make.
“I know you’re in there, Barnes,” Alex’s voice punched through the door. “I saw your bike downstairs.” He knocked again, his knuckled booming against the door. Your blood stopped in its tracks. You could’ve sworn you felt it settle in your veins.
Bucky stood from the couch with a nearly silent, “It’s okay”. He hated the way your face dropped, the way your knuckles changed color as you gripped the pillow in your lap.
“Barnes!” Alex practically growled through the door, “open up!”
“Come with me.” Bucky’s voice was barely audible, but still the most comforting sound you’d ever heard. He helped you from the couch, steadying you as the anxiety sent tremors through your every nerve. He guided you to his room with quiet, careful steps. He noted the way you yanked your shoulders upward, the way you kept your eyes on the floor.
Bucky hated the effect Alex had on you. He turned you into a hollow, fragile version of yourself that Bucky found nearly unrecognizable. He chipped away at your confidence and self-esteem, using precise, masterful blows to your weakest points. He reduced you to a pile of dust and shards of your old self.
Bucky wished to turn Alex into nothing but a memory.
“Just stay in here till he’s gone. Don’t come out,” Bucky said once you reached his room. He rested a palm to your cheek for the briefest of seconds, “I’m gonna take care of it, okay?”
And before you had a chance to relish in the warmth of his skin against yours, he vanished.
His footsteps grew more distant as he made his way to the front door. With each centimeter he put between the two of you, you grew more anxious, more uncomfortable. He was your safety blanket, your rock. Without him, you’d learned to cope. You survived. But you never truly thrived. And now that you got your fix of him, being without him for even a second left you unable to breathe.
Bucky opened the door, feigning a look of surprise, “Alex- wow, hey. How are you? Haven’t seen you in-”
“Cut the bullshit. I’m not in the mood.” Alex’s tone sliced clear through Bucky’s attempt at casual levity. “Where is she?”
Bucky cocked his head to the side, “What?”
You could practically see Alex rolling his eyes, curling his hands into fists. “Don’t gimme that- you know what I’m talking about.”
Bucky gave pause and shook his head. “I really don’t…” Part of him feared he may be doing too much. He knew he had to perfectly toe the line without overplaying his role of ‘confused ex-best friend’. The last thing he wanted was to fuck this up, to let it slip that he was harboring you in his home. He knew it would be bad for you, that Alex would make your life a living hell if he found out. And he was damn sure not going to let that happen. “Is everything okay, man? It’s pretty late.”
Alex’s glare tunneled through Bucky’s skull, “Where’s my girlfriend, James?”
It wasn’t a question- but an accusation.
“What do you mean?” Bucky coatedhis words in a thick layer of concern. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, she’s-” Alex huffed. He was over it. His paper-thin patience shredded into sharp, tiny pieces. “I know you know where she is. I know she probably called you or something.”
“She didn’t-”
A knowing look crossed Alex’s features and quickly devolved into one of betrayal, of disgust. “Is she here- she’s here isn’t she?”
Bucky’s heart sank into the swirling pit in his stomach. He couldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t ruin the sanctuary you sought in his home. This was your safe place, your peace. And he had to protect it. “Is she here? No. Why would she be here?”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I haven’t seen her.” Bucky raised his hands in surrender, “We haven’t spoken in- she hasn’t contacted me in over a year.” Saying the words out loud hit him in a way he hadn’t expected. It prodded at him like a fireplace poker, hot from the flames. God, he missed you.
“Right…” Alex rolled his eyes. “Of course. Just fuckin… whatever, man. If you so happen to see her, tell her to get home. Soon.” He turned on his heel and backed out of Bucky’s doorway, a snide look on his face.
Bucky wanted to separate Alex’s head from his body. This man didn’t wish for your homecoming as a concerned boyfriend. He didn’t hope for your safe return or ask for help finding you. Not a sliver of worry even came close to piercing his arrogant, callous surface. He’d let you spill out onto the late-night streets, hurt and distraught, as a torrential downpour drowned the city. He didn’t care that you had no means of transport. No wallet. He didn’t care that your clothes didn’t protect you from the freezing rain.
And he walked away from Bucky cocky. He left threats hanging in the air. He wanted you home as a means of control. Of punishment.
But at least he was gone. He stalked off, mumbling something about you “learning your lesson”. It made Bucky nauseous. He wanted to keep you in his apartment for as long as possible. At least, that way, he’d know you were out of Alex’s reach.
He didn’t want to think about how your return home would play out, how Alex would treat you when you finally walked through the door. Something- a lot of things- about Alex didn’t sit right with Bucky. Alex struck him as a manipulator, a narcissist. Someone to fear. He could understand why you’d walk far too many blocks in the freezing, torrential rain just to get away.
Bucky shut the door and turned the deadbolt. He secured the chain. Even checked through the peephole to make sure Alex hadn’t returned. He couldn’t be too careful- not when you were involved. “Alright, he’s gone,” Bucky called as he headed in your direction. “He’s an intense guy, I didn’t-”
But as Bucky entered his bedroom, he found it empty. “He’s gone, I swear. You don’t have to hide anymore.” Bucky popped his head into the closet and bathroom but found no sign of you. “Hey, where’d you go?”
The sound of the dryer door, however, tipped him off.
He discovered you in his small laundry room, retrieving your clothes from the dryer.
“Oh, I don’t think those are all the way dry yet. You know this thing is kinda old,” he gave the dryer a gentle kick. “You should probably leave your stuff in there a little while longer.”
You didn’t answer.
Bucky watched you fish your underwear out of the bottom of the dryer. He offered to help when your shirt got tangled with your shorts. But you stayed quiet. You kept your back to him and your gaze downcast, focused on the wet fabric in your hands.
“Hey, is everything alright?” Bucky placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know Alex showing up wasn’t exactly ideal, but he’s gone. And I-”
Without a word, you turned to face him; only then did he notice the tears streaming down your face. They met under your chin and curved down your neck, dampening the fabric of Bucky’s sweatshirt. He’d never seen a more sorrowful, gutted expression cross your face- save for the last time he saw you.
Sharp, shallow inhales shook in and out of your chest. And even if you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to meet his eyeline.
“Oh no-” Bucky’s heart shattered. His chest tightened and his stomach dropped. He hated seeing you upset, seeing you cry. Immediately, he wondered what he’d done to make you feel this way.
“What’s goin’ on?” His voice was gentle, his tone soft. He didn’t demand an answer, like Alex so often did. No, he simply helped guide your words to the surface. He was patient and understanding as you caught your breath, didn’t make any condescending comments about your emotions. Bucky was always kind, always empathetic. He never rushed you. Never forced you to speak before you were ready.
And when you finally found your words, they came out quiet, shameful. “I heard what you said…”
Bucky quickly ran through his conversation with Alex and came up empty. What did he do? What did he say that hurt you like this? But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the answer. “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I- what did I say?”
“About us not talking-” You lifted your head, showing Bucky your red, glassy eyes. “About me not contacting you for over a year.”
Bucky shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I was just-”
“I shouldn’t be here.” You dropped your damp clothes on top of the washer and tugged at the knots Bucky tied in your sweatpants. “I shouldn’t be wearing your clothes-” You struggled to free yourself from the tightly knotted drawstring. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you. And I shouldn’t- I just shouldn’t be here.”
A low groan rumbled out of your throat as you gave up untying Bucky’s skillful knots. All you wanted was to get out of his clothes, out of his apartment, and out of his hair. A storm of guilt and shame pummeled you, drowning you in regret. Coming here was wrong. Selfish.
“I have no right to be here,” you said, slumping against the dryer and sliding to the floor. “I have no right to come to you for help.”
“What do you- Yes, you do.” Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Of course, you do. You will alwayshave the right to be here.”
Another tidal wave of tears poured down your cheeks. Bucky was so kind- too kind- to you. Too forgiving. Too understanding. Too good. All you could do was shake your head and apologize. Vehemently.
“I’m so sorry…” you said, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Buck.”
Bucky took the spot next to you on the floor, close enough for you to feel his familiar body heat. “You don’t have to be sorry-”
“Yes, I do- I fucked up. I chose him.” You dried your tears with the sleeve of the sweatshirt Bucky held onto just for you. “He gave me an ultimatum and I- I chose wrong.”
Bucky took your hand in one of his but didn’t speak. He simply let you ride out your latest wave of guilt and grief. He swiped this thumb over your knuckles every now and then, keeping you grounded. And when you finally caught your breath, he spoke.
“I don’t think… I don’t think it was ever about you choosing between dating Alex or being friends with me,” he said. “You needed to choose yourself. To choose what was best for you, what would make you happy. And at the time,” Bucky shrugged, “you thought being with him was for the best. So that’s what you did. I can’t fault you for that-”
You scoffed. It came out ugly, bitter, full of the disdain and contempt you held for yourself. “But I knew who he was. Even then.”
Bucky shrugged, “they call ‘em rose colored glasses for a reason-”
“Stop!” Your voice violently bounced off the walls of the small laundry room. “Stop making excuses for me- I want you to be mad at me!” Desperation clawed at your throat. You ripped your hand from Bucky’s, too overwhelmed by the kindness you didn’t deserve. “Be mad at me for abandoning you when I said I never would- be mad at me for being a horrible friend! Be mad at me for being stupid- and selfish!” Your balled up fists landed blows to your legs, your chest. If Bucky wasn’t going to berate you, the least you could do was deliver to yourself a fraction of the pain you deserved.
But two hands- one warm, one cold- wrapped gently around your wrists, stopping the abuse. You locked eyes with Bucky, tears blurring your vision. He’d never seen a look of such intense desperation.
“Just- be mad at me…” you stared at him, pleading. “Please.”
Bucky shook his head, “No.”
“Please… be mad at me. Yell at me. Do something.”
Bucky couldn’t help but think back on the old days. How many times had the two of you sat on the floor of this apartment? How many times had you helped Bucky off the literal and metaphorical ledge when his anxieties grew too strong? How many times had you exorcised the demons Hydra saddled him with? How many times had he tried to punish or hurt himself? And how many times had you stopped him?
Now, it was Bucky’s turn to do the same for you. “I was mad. Does that make you feel better?” He shot you a wink; it pulled the smallest of smiles from deep within you.
He intertwined his fingers with yours, anchoring you to reality, to him. “But I wasn’t mad at you. I was just mad because- because I met you so late in life, you know? And I barely got any time with you. It wasn’t enough for me.” His voice grew thick with longing. He spent so any nights thinking about you, losing sleep over how much he missed you. He often wondered if you missed him, too. Wondered if you thought of him when you took the train or went to the market. Wondered if you ever walked down his street, just because.
“But I was never mad at you. I’ve never been mad at you for pursuing the things with Alex. Or for going along with his ultimatum. I didn’t like it- I didn’t think that it was fair to you, but…” he shrugged. “I wanted- want- you to be happy.”
“But I left you-”
“I’ve lived a long life,” Bucky said. “Too long.”
You squeezed his hand, “I wouldn’t say that- I wouldn’t say ‘too long.’”
You always knew how to make Bucky laugh. “What I mean is… I’m living years that aren’t mine. I was never supposed to have this much time. But these years are meant for you. This is your life. And you’re entitled to go after the things you want.”
“But-”
“No. No ‘but’.” It wasn’t a reprimand, but a reminder. “What kind of friend would I be if I got mad at you for pursuing a relationship with someone you loved?”
“But I didn’t just pursue that relationship-” a harsh flashback of the day you left ripped you apart from the inside out. You remembered refusing Bucky’s invitation inside. Handing him the key he had made for you. You remembered biting back tears as you told him of Alex’s ultimatum, and your subsequent decision to go along with it. You remembered the look of utter heartbreak on Bucky’s face. He was gutted. Torn apart. Seeing him so despondent nearly made you sick. “I cut you off. Completely.”
“I know. But…” he shrugged. “You deserve to go after the things you want. And you wanted him. And I- I just wanted you to be happy.”
A sharp huff left your chest, “But I could’ve been stronger. I should’ve- I should’ve handled things better.” These same words swarmed your mind like angry bees on a daily basis. So many would’ves and could’ves and should’ves launched themselves at you, illustrating everything you did wrong. “I mean, jesus christ, I’m an adult! He gave me an ultimatum- I didn’t have to go along with it. I chose to. I’m in the wrong just as much as he is-”
“Hey- no.” Bucky’s intensity caught you off guard. “Look, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here, but he’s a manipulator. Everything you ever told me about him screamed ‘manipulative’.”
You nodded. “Yeah, but I let him manipulate me-”
Bucky shut you down, “No. No, that’s not how manipulation works. Sure, you chose to be in a relationship with him. But you didn’t choose to be treated like shit. I saw-” Bucky’s free hand scratched at the fabric of his jeans. “I saw the way he acted tonight- if he’s like that all the time, I don’t blame you for going along with his ultimatum.” He grimaced, “I’m sure the consequences would’ve been bad if you chose otherwise.”
Bucky’s level of understanding and empathy almost made you angry. How was he this kind? How could he grant you this much grace? You felt yourself nearly going mad. He sensed the eyeroll, could practically feel your rebuttal bubbling below the surface. And before you could throw another ‘but’ at him, he continued.
“You wanted to be with him. You thought- or hoped- that he was someone better. That’s not a crime. And I’m sure you wish you could go back in time and tell your past self not to get mixed up with him, but-”
“Yeah, but I-” you let loose a deep sigh. “I really just wish I could go back in time and tell past-me to stick with you. Always. To put you first.” A few more tears broke free from your lash line and rolled down your cheeks. “Cause you’re the person I care about most- you’ve always been then one who matters most to me. And I’m sorry I didn’t act like it. I’m sorry I didn’t make that obvious to you.”
“It’s all okay,” he nudged his shoulder with yours, “we’re okay.”
After a few deep breaths, you allowed your body to fall against his. Your head lay on his shoulder, your hands still intertwined. This was always how things were supposed to be: just you and Bucky against the world. No pain, no heartache, no ultimatums. Just trust. Kindness. Empathy.
“I’ve missed you every day,” your voice came out tight, barely audible as your tears made another appearance.
Bucky unwound his hand from yours and opted instead to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “I’ve missed you too.”
“I regretted it, you know?” You lifted your head and looked him in the eye with intense urgency, “I regretted it instantly- I knew I shouldn’t have chosen him.”
He gave a simple shrug, “But it’s okay that you did.”
It was going to take some time for you to accept that Bucky didn’t hold a grudge. That he didn’t fault you. And that journey started there, on the floor of Bucky’s laundry room, with your body resting against his.
“I’m glad that… I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer to come back here.” You nestled closer to him, desperate to make up for lost time. “I’m glad it wasn’t too late.”
He stared down at you, confused. “Too late for what?”
“Well, I’m sure you would’ve written me off after a certain point, you know? If I was gone for… five years, or something.” Just the thought of being away from Bucky that long made you miserable. “If I showed up here after all that time, it would’ve been too late for you to forgive me.”
Bucky shook his head, “First of all, you don’t need to be forgiven- you didn’t do anything wrong.” He hated the way you blamed yourself and dismissed your own difficulties over the last year. And he knew you too well to be able to ignore the heartbreak in your eyes, the pain behind your voice. You suffered in your relationship with Alex. He cut you off from your best friend, isolated you, sabotaged your self-esteem. You were a victim, even if you refused to believe it.
“Second of all- and this is important-” Bucky turned to face you dead on, and pressed his forehead to yours. “There is no ‘too late’ with us, doll. Ever.”
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✩ ‧ ₊˚ TROUBLE YOU ! — SAE ITOSHI.
you have a bad habit of forgetting things. thankfully, your roommate, sae is there to remind you.
being roommates with sae comes with a lot of benefits, namely the spacious apartment you love a lot, not worrying about any loud sounds in the middle of the night (courtesy to your previous roommate, who obviously can't live without any music blasting through the walls) and finally, an attractive person you can look at under the same roof.
you can't say the same thing for him though.
especially, when times like this at this very moment happens and sae could only let out a sigh.
it was already 8 pm when you walked into the doors of the field, your hair a little disheveled, your phone and car keys in your hand as you look around the field—for him, he presumes.
and he was right, like almost all the times he remembers whenever you visit him here.
and the looks and knowing smiles of his teammates that were sent his way were rather annoying, especially when their captain would give him that look whenever you're around, "your girl is here, genius." is what he would always say and he'll only shoot back a glare.
and he turns his gaze back to look at you, and you're already halfway through the field, your eyes all bright with a sense of relief in it, and he might just stop and look at you.
and if he doesn't try to silent away the sound of his heart getting a little faster maybe he'll acknowledge it.
"sae!" you yelled, as you scurry off to him with a smile on your face. and he saunters to you with one hand buried in his pockets, meeting you across.
"hi," you breathe out, chest heaving from your little dash. after all, you did run through the entrance of the stadium all the way here, in the fields.
sae has a feeling of what was the reason that brought you here and he's sure what you're about to say next. he raises a brow in question as to what you were doing here and you were quick to pick up on that, like you always do.
"uhm, well..." you start off, with a sheepish look on your face, "i left my key at the apartment." you confessed, a hand coming up to rub on your arms, embarrassed at your clumsy mistake and it doesn't help that it's already the fourth time this month that you've forgotten the keys to your home.
"i figured as much," sae replied, turning his back on you as he walks over to the bench by the sidelines, with you following behind him.
really, how can someone forget something so important? he shakes his head from the thought.
"aw, come on. this will be the last time, i swear!"
"you already said that the last time." he deadpaned.
"i swear! this is the last time, sae. you won't see me here next month!"
he highly doubts it, but sure he'll humour you just this once. he grabs his duffle bag as he turns around to face you, his eyes trail from your eyes to your nose and your lips, before looking away from you just as quick as he would change his expression.
and you didn't point it out, he's grateful.
walking off ahead through where you came from awhile ago. with you still following him, confused.
"hey, where are you going? i only need the keys, sae." you questioned, while trying to catch up to his long strides.
he only gave you a glance before answering you, "we're going home."
"huh? what- wait you still have practice right?"
you were right, of course. but, he won't tell you that, it's not that someone would get mad at him for leaving earlier than usual, but even if someone did, he can't give a single fuck anyway.
and he's sure the guys on the field are giving him big thumbs up and snickering among themselves, he ignored them.
he doesn't answer you. still walking, a little slower now, matching your pace. spotting your car and he's thankful there's no camera or paparazzi on sight—not that he minds being seen with you, though.
because sae would rather lose a limb than be seen with someone else other than you.
"give me your car keys." he didn't even give you a choice, already stealing it from your hands. you didn't stop him, no. what's out there would be brave enough stopping the itoshi sae, when he sets his mind on things? the answer is none.
so, you let him.
maybe, sae has become accustomed to this occurrence. with you, by his side, in his mornings, in his days, in his times. because you bleed like an ink into his life and it seeps through him with color.
he doesn't mind you troubling him at all.
"this is the fourth time, y/n. don't forget your keys."
"i will, i'm trying!" you whined, sounding embarrassed, "it's not like you'd be gone soon, so it's okay for now, right?"
"what if i was away for a game, idiot?" he counter.
"well.. too bad, i'm coming over with you overseas, then."
sae doesn't mind you asking him, but you're just too much trouble for his heart though.
◞♡ omg rosie out of her burnout phase?? we couldn't believe it either :o likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!
#roses ‘r rosie#itoshi sae x reader#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi x you#sae itoshi fluff#itoshi sae fluff#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x you#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock fluff#blue lock#sae itoshi
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Hcs for Hashira men confessing!
Includes Tengen, Tomioka, Sanemi, Rengoku, Gyomei, and Muichiro
Warnings: Minor swearing! Minors MAY interact with this post, but hopefully only for Muichiro being as he is a minor <3 Reader is set as a female for these hcs!
This man already has three wives...he's pretty dang experienced in romance.
You're a hashira at the same time he is, and he admires how you dress. Your hair is also quite "flashy" to him.
"Hey, Y/n...looking flamboyant today. Nice."
"Oh....thanks Tenge-"
"No problem!"
If you have long hair, there's a chance he might want to style it for you. He's not a braiding expert like Kanroji, but he has three wives, so he's gotta know some good stuff in that department, right?
He admires you from afar for a bit before wanting to go on missions with you and hang out.
He'll go to his wives for help, and when he says you could possibly become love interest number four, instead of being jealous, they're ecstatic because they like you too.
So they scheme up a plan .
While you're out on a mission, Hinatsuru takes a...rather large rock, shoving it out in front of you while you were chatting with Tengen.
You're clumsy here so you don't notice it.
You trip, about to hit the ground WHEN
Ninja man catches you HAHA! He thinks he's so flashy and brags about it after that. He confessed to you while holding you.
"Y/n...can I be real with you?"
"Sure, but can you put me down first?"
"I...love you, Y/n, and so do my wives."
Your heartbeat pulses fast, and you smile. "I love you guys too...now put me down."
"No."
Giyu is stoic, quiet around the other pillars.
This doesn't change when you enter the scene...as his tsuguko. You're not much younger than him, maybe a year, tops.
While he does help you train, he keeps that same demeanor at the beginning of your mentorship.
He even has to get close to you to help you swing your sword at times, which for some damn reason...
It makes your heart beat fast??
No, there's no way you could-
Oh, yes there is.
After a few months or so of training with Tomioka, he seems to lighten up with you. He'll talk more frequently, asking you how your day was and what you were up to.
You'll definitely notice that he's warmer. But when out with the other hashira, his demeanor goes back to silence and staring.
You get curious, so you set him down and ask about it.
"Tomioka, what's been up with you? I mean, the changes aren't bad, but I wanna know why you've been acting so...social? Lately?"
He's blankly staring at you, looking at the floor, his haori, and then back at you.
"I thought you'd like it...if I talked more...because...I like you, I guess."
Hah. Awkward boi let's be honest.
You're another hashira in this hc.
You're very bubbly and talkative, kind of like Mitsuri. Of course, in the beginning, Shinazugawa Sanemi finds this annoying.
He'll shoo you away with every chance he gets.
It's only when you stop by his estate with a plate of ohagi for his birthday that his opinion of you slowly begins to shift.
You're still annoying as fuck in his eyes...but maybe you were tolerable?
It would take a few days of him ignoring you for you to storm into his estate, grab him by the collar, and scream at him.
Jk jk he'd fucking kill you
You'd actually walk into his estate and demand to hear what's up with him.
He'd attempt shooing you of course, but you're not gonna take no for an answer, are ya?
Didn't think so.
That's when HE grabs YOU by the collar, shoves you against the wall, and tenderly presses a kiss to your lips. He couldn't find the words to confess to you, so he used his actions. And they worked, becaue you kissed back, caressing his white, fluffy hair softly.
Rengoku would be straightforward with his feelings. He won't push you away, or ignore you, to figure out his heart because he's so in sync with his feelings that he doesn't need a second opinion or thought.
You'd be just another slayer, part of the kamaboko squad with Tanjiro and his pals, but you're the eldest, being around 19.
He'd invite you to have a picnic with him, classic, right?
You'd obviously be honored...I mean, a hashira invited you to eat with him!! What an honor!!
Not to mention he's a cutie
You meet up with him, it's around 12pm, he's there earliy, you're a little late.
"Ah! Y/n! Good morning!"
"...it's noon-"
"I know !! Good afternoon!!"
*Facepalms*
He would talk to you about your missions, what you've been up to, and one more question...
" I know we sincerely just formally met !! But you are gorgeous !! Would you like to be my girlfriend ?!"
You'd chuckle, covering your blushing face. Of course you're gonna say yes.
We're gonna keep Himejima's short n' simple.
You are a hashira, and you first met him at a meeting with the master.
His strength impressed you, and your friendliness intrigued him.
You talked a lot, being as you were both quite strong and were only called on extremely high ranked missions.
You both fell in love and told each other you liked the other in his estate.
Also, a plus, hugs with him are ALWAYS comfy.
You're a minor. And so is he, so it fits !
He's younger than you, but if he ever hears the word 'seniority' come out of your mouth, best expect a cold-hearted scolding.
He confesses through his crow to you. He can't bring himself to do it in person.
He won't admit it but he fell head over heels. He'll just say he loves you. You know how he feels, though <3
{ Sorry Mui's and Gyomei's were short </3 I got a lil lazy- }
#sanemi x reader#muichiro x reader#tengen x reader#gyomei x reader#rengoku x reader#giyu x reader#fluff#headcanons#Sanemi's were my favorite hehe#I love him damn
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Idk if u've seen rafayel's new oracle story BUT IT HAS BEEN PLAGUING MY MIND
"What if i make it up to you like this yeah?"
MAKE UP SEX WITH RAFAYEL.
TELL ME DO YOU THINK THEY'LL HAVE IT OFTEN?? But ones in a more playful sort of way not really full on arguments if you get what i mean 😩💗💗
oh my god please, nonnie, rafayel's oracle story is literally the only thing on my mind. i've been so unwell
i went in with one dream and spent everything i had because my luck is abysmal. and, the worst part?? I CAN'T EVEN BE UPSET ABOUT IT 😭🫵🏻 it wasn't what i expected. it's kind of funny ASKDDJKD!! i thought it'd be myth related. instead, i was blessed with rafayel.... kisses... 🥰
itty bitty nsfw 🔞 mdni.
rafayel would 100% down for playful makeup sex 😵💫💕 honestly, he'd pull any kind of excuse just to get you undressed and fucked out in bliss. he loves how pretty you look when you cum 💕 even more when he and you can get a good laugh in between because he'd appreciate lightheartedness in intimacy. after all, he wouldn't have sex with anyone else! he needs trust to do those sweet, silly things too, and he can only ever do that with you.
because i think he'd find a lot of fun with it, he'd do it often, but the sex doesn't necessarily need to be absolutely mind-blowing once initiated. banter is fun, even better when it leads to sex, but he just loves being close like that: naked and a tangled mess of limbs with the warmth coming from your body to his.
he's a night owl, so he's unintentionally ignoring your texts. maybe, even misses a few phone calls or immediately ends an incoming one, thinking it's an alarm he set up before. part of the day goes by and you're coming into his home to make sure he's doing alright. there's no use in pretending that you aren't upset. because you are upset! you didn't hear from him 💔 but, you find that he's just now out of bed after finishing a new piece of art.
"were you asleep this whole time?" you ask.
he rambles on about a sudden inspiration he had and that, "it'd be wrong to rest when the idea was too good."
you listen, nod, but truthfully some of his words go in and out the other ear. you frown at him. and, when he asks why you have that look on your face, you're quick to say, "i'm sure you can figure out why."
he knows. of course, he knows. he reads you well, just like you do him. then, his shoulders are a little hunched over, and he's laughing!
"i've really spoiled you," he says softly. his hands are on your hips the next second, pulling you close. "mm, why not let me make it up to you? i'm awake now, and we have the rest of the day to ourselves."
he lifts you and lays you on the couch. kisses you while he thinks about how many times he can get you gushing on his fingers and tongue before his cock.
OR, if you're the one making it up to him 🥹
accidentally spilling paint on a good shirt of his? you're panicking as soon as it happens. your hands move faster than your mouth, and you're halfway with unbuttoning his shirt before telling him he needs to take it off.
his laughter is what stops you. it dawns on you! but, to be fair, your thoughts don't have anything else besides: the shirt must be washed before it really stains.
"someone's being bold," he chuckles as your eyes meet. "did you plan this?"
"what?" and, the fabric drops from between your fingers. rafayel doesn't miss the way your gaze falls briefly, catching the sight of his bare chest, last 2 or 3 buttons barely laying over his abdomen. "me, ruining a piece of clothing that's probably over three times my budget? i don't think that's planning. it's called being clumsy."
your face feels warm. you take a deep breath, reach out to him, "c'mon. i'll wash it. take it off before the paint makes it unsalvageable."
rafayel clasps your wrist with his hand, steps into your space, voice deepening with a tinge of playfulness, "no, i can think of a better idea. how about me and you have matching clothes?"
he embraces you, gets you wearing blotches of paint too, and you want to argue. but, you can't find the energy to when one hand is guiding your head back and the other is tugging on your neckline. rafayel's lips move to your throat first. then, trails open-mouthed kisses along the rest of your neck, jaw, the base of your shoulder, before whispering, "it's a good idea, yeah?"
since you're the one to make a mess of his shirt first, he wants you riding him as compensation. to make him feel good? yes, sure, he loves that. though, the reason for it, most of all: he wants you using his cock like you own it. wants you aching and desperate for him. cum all over him, feel good because of him. nothing gets him going more than watching you bounce on top and moan his name so sweetly 🥰
© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡
#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace smut#rafayel smut#lads x reader#lads smut#l&ds x reader#l&ds smut#rafayel x you#WONDEURWALL ೃ⁀➷ MAIL 💌#omg i went a little overboard with this JFRKLGFD!!#i'd love to do drabbles for things like these#maybe i'll do that after this fic isn't eating my brain anymore#the amount of times i've listened to raf's oracle... UNHEALTHY
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frat!Miguel and reader getting into an argument and them posting indirects on each others snap/insta stories and them reposting shady tiktoks knowing the other will see it until miguel just cracks and starts posting cute shit abt her😁😁😁
you are petty when it comes to arguing, never wanted to be the one to take defeat. you will crawl on broken glasses to hell and back before admitting that you’re wrong,
and sometimes it takes a toll on miguel, he’s frustrated over how you are so hard headed sometimes. because then it would lead to this. silent treatment and you stopping to go over the frat house,
but what drives him crazy the most is when he sees all the spam reposts on tiktok coming from your acc, somehow all of them made it to his for you page,
at first, miguel were doing the same too. to see how much you liked getting a little taste of your medicine,
“i’m annoying? you’re annoying, muñeca. let’s see how you like this one. bam” he snickers to himself as he reposts another tiktok of a guy complaining about his girlfriend’s petty behavior,
however the thing is? you don’t actually give a shit,
you’ve been training far too long to deal with this thanks to the shitty men in your previous relationship. so him being petty as you? doesn’t bother you a bit. if anything, it makes it more fun,
it irks him to know that you’re not responding to any of it. if he’s being honest, he wants you to spam him with texts of you being clingy and telling him to stop doing all that extra shit on tiktok. he misses that. he misses you
he swears he’s not letting himself go at that time. he wants you to be the one who apologizes or at least hit him back up. even glen had told him before to wait a couple more days and see if you would actually text him instead the other way around.
but five days without talking to his muñeca and sleeping by her side? yeah, he’s had it
miguel swipes through his contact list and hit your number before dialing it, pacing back and forth in his room.
“hello?” you answer after a few rings,
“i give up. I can’t. i don’t like this, i don’t like you being far from me” he blurts out without saying hello back, head shaking. “you need to come back, muñeca, please. i’m fucking losing it here”
“so you admit defeat, huh?” you smirk on the other line,
“yes. i am folding. i am on my knees.” he admits, running through a hand through his hair out of frustrations. “i’ll say anything you want to hear, whatever it is”
with a chuckle, you decide to tease him more. “post me more on your socials, maybe i think about it”
“i did!” he cries out, “three on my stories and three of your pics on the feed. and I’m rarely active on instagram, you know that!”
oh, he’s serious about this. “aw that’s so sweet, o’hara”
he wide eyed, not liking that name. “o’hara? who the fuck—no o’hara here! i am not o’hara to you, princesa!”
you laugh at how adorable he sounds when he gets upset over you call him by his last name,
you do miss him. miss him so much you can’t even think straight any more. and you hate having this little argument with him, it takes too much of you and his time. sleeping alone doesn’t sound so good anymore, it’s better with hin around.
“get over here, miggy”
he grins at your sudden invitation, grabbing his car keys off the table before rushing out of his room, nearly tripping over the carpet floor as he plucks his jacket from the couch. couple of the guys are all sat in the living room, eyes darting to his.
“woah, easy there pal. going somewhere?” beck raises an eyebrow at his best friend’s clumsy antics,
miguel slips on his shoes and put his signature snapback on
“heading over to my girl’s. won’t be back till tomorrow. bye.”with a cheeky grin, he fist bumps beck who looks at him funny before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
carlos pops a beer can open, plopping onto the empty space of the sofa.
“you guys see that right? him being fucking whipped?”
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Read Platonic Shower Stobin first
Is it normal to be thinking about non-platonic showering while working?
Probably not.
But it’s all Eddie could think about at the shop. His boss kept giving him weird looks all day, noticing his clumsiness and stupid mistakes with customers getting a standard oil change.
He kept picturing Steve. Naked. Touching him.
He was doing it again. Oil spilled down his jumpsuit. He closed his eyes and sighed.
This was his last car for the day. He could leave when he was done. That’s what he had to remind himself every time his brain started to drift to thoughts of fucking Steve against the shower wall.
He’d never had shower sex. Sounded difficult. Sounded worth it.
Especially with Steve.
Steve Harrington.
Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?
— — — — — — —
When he got home, the apartment was quiet. He knew Robin would still be at work, but Steve was always home first. He usually was making dinner, playing music, cleaning, taking up space in a way that he never could as a child or teenager.
Eddie loved it.
Eddie loved Steve.
Maybe he wasn’t like, in love with him. Yet. But he did love him. He loved Robin, too.
But he definitely knew he could love Steve.
Steve who should be home but isn’t. Or at least isn’t making any noise.
“Steve?”
No movement. No response.
Maybe he was stuck at work.
Maybe he ran for the hills at the thought of having to be in the shower with Eddie.
Maybe he changed his name and went into the Witness Protection Program to avoid ever having to look at Eddie again.
He walked towards his room, which was the closest to the front door and shared areas because Steve and Robin hated being close to the door. When he opened the door, he felt himself freeze like he had that morning in the bathroom.
Steve was in his bed, cuddled up with his pillow, no shirt on, mouth wide open and drooling.
Eddie was in love with Steve.
He was in love with him and he wanted to come home to this every day; Steve asleep in his bed, drooling on his pillow, possibly completely naked under the blanket.
Eddie remained as quiet as possible while he got out of his work jumpsuit, stripping it off and leaving him in his undershirt and boxers. He had oil stains on his hands and neck that needed to come off before he got in bed.
Just when he grabbed his towel from where it was hung up on his desk chair, he heard Steve groan. In his bed.
But it only took a second for Eddie to recognize it was a groan in pain, not pleasure.
He wasted no time in rushing to where Steve was curling up against the pillow, eyebrows scrunching together.
Migraine.
Eddie sat on the floor next to the bed, putting his hand up to gently brush hair out of his face and try to relieve some of the pain.
Steve’s eyes fluttered open, though he looked like he wished they hadn’t.
“Hey, sweetheart. Need anything? Water maybe?”
“Mm-mm.”
Eddie was certain he did need water, but he wasn’t going to argue with him when he had a migraine. Especially not if he tried to make it all day at work with one.
He’d leave some water by the bed while he showered so it was there if Steve managed to sit up.
He stood up, but before he could turn around, Steve’s hand was around his wrist.
“Don’t go.”
“I need a shower. Got a lot of oil on me.”
“‘Sposed to go in the car.”
Eddie snorted. “No shit. I was too busy thinking about you and spilled. Three times.”
“Oh.”
Steve let go of his wrist, and it felt like he was no longer tethered to the earth.
“Shower?”
Eddie was still getting used to Steve during his migraines. He’d only lived here for six months, and it was usually Robin’s job to handle it or Steve would already be sleeping it off by the time he got home. In his own bed.
He didn’t know if Steve was clarifying what he had already said or if he was asking to take one.
He didn’t look like he could stand up, so it must’ve been the former.
“Um I’m gonna take one. I’ll be quick.”
Steve started to shuffle around, moving the blanket off of him slowly.
Eddie tried to stop him from moving, not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but not wanting him to make his headache worse by moving.
“Steve, stop.”
“No.”
God, he was stubborn. He loved him so much.
“What are you doing?”
“Shower.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Promised.”
Eddie melted. He was a puddle on the floor. Might have even gone through the floor.
“Sweetheart, you can stay in bed. We can shower tomorrow night when you’re feeling better.”
“Want to. Neck hurts.”
Eddie helped him out of bed. Arguing wasn’t worth it and getting to shower with Steve was welcome any time.
They took it slow, stumbling to the bathroom across the hall as Eddie tried his best to support Steve. Just when he was about to offer carrying him bridal style, Steve stopped and rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder.
He let out a shaky breath.
“Sorry. Nauseous.”
“Want me to carry you?”
They were almost the same size. Eddie had some muscle, but not nearly what Steve probably had. The bathroom wasn’t far though, he could probably make it.
Steve shook his head against him, but didn’t start moving again. Eddie let him rest his head against him for a moment before he moved his hand up to start rubbing the back of his neck.
Steve groaned and fully relaxed against Eddie, and if he hadn’t been head over heels before, he was now.
He didn’t know how long they stood there, but he knew if it helped Steve even a tiny bit, he would stand here all night.
But they didn’t stand there much longer, even though it seemed like Steve didn’t actually want to move. He pulled his head away with a sigh, and Eddie made an executive decision to just carry him.
He lifted him quickly so he couldn’t argue, because if Steve will do anything, it’s argue over someone helping him.
But his migraine must have been terrible because he didn’t argue. He just rested his head against Eddie’s chest and closed his eyes.
“You sure you don’t wanna go back to bed?”
“Shower will help.”
Eddie couldn’t resist it anymore; he placed a kiss on the top of Steve’s head and walked to the bathroom.
He sat him down on the toilet lid so he could start the water and get the right temperature. As he stripped his shirt off, he noticed Steve’s head was resting on the sink counter and his eyes were open.
That had to be some type of progress, right?
“Doing okay, Stevie?”
“Better when you’re naked.”
God, the migraine couldn’t even stop his charm. Incredible.
“Alright, take it easy. No riling me up. Not now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have a migraine.”
Steve just sighed and closed his eyes. Eddie took off his boxers and then kneeled in front of Steve, placing his hands on his thighs.
“Wanna leave these on?”
Eddie played with the waistband of Steve’s boxers, looking up at his face to see if he gave any outward signs of discomfort.
Steve shook his head and sat up so Eddie could help him stand and get them off.
They were about to shower. Naked.
Maybe it would be more platonic than not because of Steve’s migraine, but he’d get to take care of Steve with intent. Intent Robin didn’t have.
Was he jealous of Robin? Only in the way that she’d been showering with Steve for a long time and didn’t even appreciate it.
He helped Steve into the shower and turned him so the back of his neck was getting hit by the water, his forehead resting against his shoulder.
He let out another groan.
“Perfect.”
Eddie smiled to himself as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. They stood there for a couple minutes, and it did seem to help the tension leave Steve’s body a bit.
“Can we switch for a minute so I can scrub the oil off?”
“Mhm.”
But Steve didn’t move and Eddie honestly didn’t want to move him. He’d never been this content or comfortable just existing with someone else naked.
Most experiences he had naked were quick or not in his own home, so he couldn’t quite relax like he was now.
Plus, it was Steve. Steve had seen him at his worst already. This was far from that.
He reached out his hand for the soap, deciding to just do what he could without moving Steve first. But Steve let out a hum and lifted his head so he could move away.
He rested his head against the shower wall instead while Eddie rushed through washing his body. He could wash his hair in the morning; Steve wasn’t long for this world and he wanted to have him cozy in his bed as soon as possible.
“Hair?”
Eddie looked over to Steve, who had one eye open, staring at him.
“Nah, I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Mine?”
“You want me to wash your hair?”
“Please?”
How could Eddie refuse that?
This was one of Eddie’s biggest dreams come true.
He wasn’t gonna say no.
So he guided Steve back under the water, tilting his head back and slowly pushing his hair back so it was wet.
He slowly massaged the shampoo into Steve’s scalp, smiling when Steve let out a few low moans. He knew it wasn’t necessarily pleasure, more relief than anything else, but he was happy to make things better for him.
He took his time. It was for Steve, but he definitely got his own enjoyment out of it too.
Steve looked so calm, relaxed, almost blissful, which is something he never sees regardless of if he has a migraine or not.
When he’d spent more than enough time with his hands in Steve’s hair, he leaned his head back and covered his eyes to rinse the shampoo out. Steve looked like he was about two minutes from falling asleep, and Eddie needed him to be out of the shower before that happened.
“Sweetheart, let’s get you dried off and back in bed,” Eddie said softly, not wanting the echo of his voice to make Steve’s head hurt worse.
“Mm.”
Eddie shut off the water and managed to get Steve out of the shower rather quickly, reaching for his towel to wrap around Steve before he could get cold.
He found an extra towel under the sink for himself, wrapping it around his waist before focusing on Steve again. He started to pat him dry the best he could, but Steve was struggling to stand upright.
He once told Eddie that during his worst migraines, his legs would feel like jelly, and sometimes his back would ache from the extra effort it took to stand up.
This must be one of those.
He managed to guide Steve back to his bedroom, slowly, afraid that one wrong move could send Steve to the ground in terrible pain.
“Sorry.”
He looked up as he helped Steve into some of his boxers.
“What could you possibly be sorry for, sweetheart?”
“Not fun.”
“Any time with you is fun. And I got to see you naked. I’d say that’s fun.”
Steve didn’t have enough energy to smile, but the way the corner of his mouth ticked up for just a second showed Eddie he wanted to.
“Thanks.”
“Nothing to thank me for. Always gonna take care of you.”
Well, nothing like throwing all his cards on the table. Full house or royal flush or whatever the hell the best hand in poker was.
“Mkay. Want you to.”
If Eddie was capable of it, he would probably melt through the floor. Again.
Because Steve never let anyone take care of him, except Robin, and she was only allowed because she would kill him if he didn’t let her. He was the epitome of “suffer in silence,” and everyone just watched as he tried to work his way through his own pain, both emotional and physical.
So if Steve wanted him to take care of him, that meant he was really doing this. He really wanted Eddie.
Holy shit.
“I got you.”
He got Steve to lay down in his bed while he threw on some boxers, rushing as quickly as he could to dry his hair a bit with the towel.
It always got so frizzy if he fell asleep with it still wet, but he didn't care. He had Steve in his bed.
Steve curled up to his side as soon as he was under the blanket, placing his head on his naked chest.
Eddie didn’t think it could be comfortable, but it must have been because Steve was letting out little snores within moments.
Eddie’s hands covered his back and the back of his head, fingers moving slowly to ease any possible aches or pains he might feel in his sleep.
He kissed the top of Steve’s head, letting his lips linger for longer than was probably necessary. He breathed in the scent of his freshly washed hair, smiling to himself when he felt Steve sink further into him.
He would take a not-so-platonic shower with Steve in the morning. This was almost better than anything his dreams could’ve come up with anyway.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#headcanon#part 2#started as platonic stobin#now we’re at Eddie getting to take care of Steve#STEVE HAS A MIGRAINE AGAIN OKAY#I DONT KNOW WHY I DO THIS TO HIM#also this wasn’t as good as I’d hoped but I just kept getting distracted
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Another world (Neteyam x reader)
Masterlist
Description: Falling into a world you only knew from a movie wasn’t in your cards, but falling for Neteyam - maybe life dealt you the right ones this time.
Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, breeding kind, talk abt getting pregnant, small wounds and blood, talk abt dead parents/grandparents (readers)
Neteyam is aged up to like 21, reader is abt 19, the humans never came back and there’s no spider bc you know I don’t like him ahaha
15716 words
It had been a normal day for you - until it hadn’t. You were on your way home from work, your shift in the dingy little kiosk finally over, and your small apartment was waiting for you. You thought of the empty room that was once your grandmas, who would’ve been waiting for you a few months prior, but now she was gone and you had no one left. She and your grandpa had raised you, when your parents had died in an armed robbery. You were so small you didn’t really remember them, and your grandparents didn’t like to talk about the horrible day their daughter and son-in-law were ripped from them but you saw the newspaper cutouts they kept, and your heart broke everytime you caught a glimpse of them.
They did the best they could with their limited resources and their old age, even if money was tight most of the time, you never once stayed hungry and always felt loved. But now that the both of them were gone, you were all alone in the world and without being able to afford a college education, your future looked really depressing. The only thing you were looking forward to after working was watching your crime shows and crocheting.
You turned left, only needing to cross through the small park now and you would’ve been home, but when you started to descend the stairs at the entrance you were startled by a bright white light at the bottom. Being your clumsy self, you missed a step because of the distraction, your hand not grabbing the (probably disgustingly dirty) handle quick enough and you were falling forward.
Cursing you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for impact and hoping that the light you saw wasn’t some kind of new human trafficking tactic. But instead of landing on the hard concrete, everything around you turned so bright you even saw it though your eyelids, and when the light suddenly stopped, and you were still falling and falling and falling, you forced yourself to open your eyes.
Your scream got stuck in your throat, on one hand from all the air that was blowing in your face, and on the other from the view that revealed itself. For a moment you forgot that you were falling towards it, and just admired what seemed to be an almost endless jungle, that glowed like the bioluminescent algae you once saw on discovery channel.
But then your brain seemed to catch up after all and you let out a bloodcurdling scream when you realized that - as beautiful as the sight was - it was also coming closer and closer really fast. The only question bouncing around in your head was ‚What the hell was happening here?‘
The canopy came closer and closer and just before you hit it, you squeezed your eyes shut again, shutting your mouth out of instinct and shielding your head with your arms. It hurt like a bitch, the twigs and leaves scratching and slapping you on your way down, but simultaneously you were glad you hadn’t hit the ground or a big branch yet.
The trees were slowing you down quite a bit, but suddenly you did hit the ground with a thud. You just stayed there for a moment, contemplating if you were dead, but then you noticed that the „ground“ you hit, was moving and making noises, and suddenly you were hauled up by your upper arms, and sat on the real ground.
„What the hell?“, someone grumbled from the left and you finally opened your eyes, the adrenaline in your body blending out the pain from your injuries. What the fuck. What the actual fuck! You were sitting on the ground, surrounded by what seemed to be characters from the movie Avatar, but this couldn’t be real, could it?
You had of course seen the movie, it had been a huge success when you were like 13 or something, but that was a fictional world! This had to be a dream or something - nope it wasn’t, you were pinching yourself so hard you were sure you would bruise and you were still there - or maybe you died when you fell down those stairs? Oh god, oh god they were staring at you and damn they were tall what were you supposed to do oh-
„Who the hell are you?“, asked someone you immediately recognized - your brain was digging for the right memories. „I-I’m (Y/N)“, you stuttered out, your eyes wide opened as you scanned the people around you. The one who asked your name was Jake Sully if you remembered correctly and next to him should be…Neytiri. You didn’t recognize the others, but they liked a lot younger, there were a girl and two boys, the older looking one sat on the ground next to you and you realized you must have fallen on top of him. Your brain wasn’t really catching up to what was happening, and they seemed just as confused.
„Where did you come from?“, Jake’s eyebrows were now furrowed like he wasn’t sure what to make of you. „I’m from…I’m from Chicago? I really don’t know what happened I swear, I was just walking back from work and there was t-that light and I fell down the stairs and then I was falling and falling and oh god this can’t be happening, this is only supposed to be a movie-”, you were panicking and rambling on and on until Jake and Neytiri exchanged a look, and he bend down, effectively shutting you up.
„Okay take a deep breath kid“, he urged you and you did your best to force air into your lungs, suddenly wondering why you could even breathe here. If you remembered correctly the humans couldn’t breathe on the planet in the movies, and almost out of reflex you looked down at yourself, a helpless and kinda pathetic squeak leaving your mouth when you saw you were blue. „What the hell, why am I blue“, you didn’t even care about all the scratches that adorned your skin, the only thing that registered in your mind was that you were the same color blue as the people around you, you were even wearing the same stripes, just your clothes remained the same.
Your breathing picked up the more you panicked and before Jake could try to calm you down again, you passed out.
—————————
Neteyam watched the girl fall unconscious, and caught her quickly before she hit her head on the ground. It was weird, almost like an instinct. Since she fell on top of him he was a bit dazed - partly because he was questioning where she was coming from - but also because he was charmed by your beauty.
It was confusing, there were lots of beautiful girls in his clan, but the one that seemingly fell from the sky (from a weird place called sheekago?) and laid in his arms, made his heart pound in an unknown way. Before he could dwell on it, his family interrupted his thoughts and he finally snapped out of it.
„You think the sky people came back ma Jake? Is she with them?“, Neytiri looked at the young woman with suspicion, but Jake only shook his head and slowly pointed to the atokirina floating down from everywhere, landing on you for a moment before spreading into the forest again. „Eywa“, Kiri whispered, and looked at the girl with a small knowing smile.
————————
You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the dull pain all over your body. You were confused for a moment, wondering if something happened at work for you to wake up like this, but then you opened your eyes and saw the brown ceiling of a tent, everything came rushing back to you. Oh my god, you were blue, you were a blue alien!
You contemplated just laying there, staring at the ceiling some more and maybe this would all turn out to be alright, but a head popped into your focus. „You’re awake!“, the girl grinned and you cleared your throat a bit, taking a deep breath (as not to panick again) and sat up with her help.
Your body resisted because of all the cuts, but you managed and noticed they had all been treated with some kind of ointment that was a bit cooling. „My name is Kiri“, the girl introduced herself and you mustered a smile, looking around the tent curiously, „How are you feeling?“
„Kinda hurts“, you sighed and she smiled at that. „Considering you fell from who knows where, you’re pretty lucky! Also lucky that Neteyam cushioned your fall“, she grinned a bit, and you figured he must be the young man that sat next to you in the ground earlier. „Ugh that must’ve hurt too, is he okay?“, you worried that your first impression in this new world (or parallel universe or whatever) was already a bad one.
„My brother’s fine don’t worry“, she reassured you, „I’m going to get my dad, he said to tell him when you wake up!“ She gave you one last nod, before disappearing out of the tent and leaving you alone with your thoughts. This really didn’t feel like a dream, and you were starting to feel like it was a more permanent thing, but you were forcing yourself to stay calm.
Was ist really so bad? You didn’t particularly enjoy your life back in your universe or on your planet or whatever, so maybe this would be okay? Of course you had a few friends, but you worked so much to make ends meet, that you barely saw them, but other than that there wasn’t much.
You sat there and tried to rack your brain for any helpful details from the movie you would need, but you felt like the plot itself must already be like 20 years in the past here if your guess that Kiri is Jake’s daughter is right. You remembered the people living here were called Na‘vi and that they won a war against the humans and most of them left except for a few allies (you remembered the face of that one science guy that came here with Jake in the movie).
And of course you remembered the love story between Jake and Neytiri, which means if Neteyam is Kiris brother, he is also their son. „Hey there“, you were startled out of your thoughts by Jake, he was already kneeling next to you, but you must’ve been so lost in thought that you didn’t notice. „Oh! Hey“, you smiled timidly, not sure what would happen now, and suddenly well aware that you were practically defenseless and they could just abandon you in the jungle.
„I hope you feel a bit better?“, he started the conversation and you just nodded, a bit shy under the leaders gaze. Suddenly another woman entered the tent, and after a second your brain pulled out a name that sounded right - Mo‘at. „Is she feeling better?“, she asked Jake, a strict look on her face, making you shrink a bit.
„She hadn’t got a chance to answer yet“, he grinned and you immediately relaxed with his layed back attitude. „I do“, you nodded and hugged your knees to your chest for comfort, „still hurts a bit, but it’s better, thank you.“
„Do you think you can walk? Maybe we can figure out what happened over dinner, hm?“, Jake rose from his squatted position and held out a hand for you, and you nearly flinched when you saw that your own hand reaching for his was blue. You definitely had to get used to that, and you also would like to look into a mirror sometime soon.
You silently followed behind him, you knew he probably adjusted his pace to yours, you were really slow and limping a bit. Plus you were simultaneously taking in everything around you in wonder - it looked just like in the movie, but even more beautiful and majestic. It seemed to still be nighttime, so you couldn’t have been passed out for long, and you were overwhelmed by the glowing flora and fauna.
You were so distracted that you didn’t notice Jake stopped and you ran straight into his back. „Oh sorry“, you blushed and looked down, god could you make any more of a fool out of yourself? „Don’t worry kid“, he reassured you, and then pointed upwards into the big tree you were standing infront.
„For familydinner we have to climb up there, you think you can manage? Just follow my footsteps okay?“, you wondered if that was the military man speaking - wanting you to climb a tree when you had just fallen from the sky - but you had no choice, so you did your best. Jake was way quicker than you, but you did make it at least halfway before you cuts and bruises were taking too much of a toll on you.
„I’ll get her“, you heard quietly from somewhere above, Jake was already out of sight - it seemed like his muscle memory kicked in and he forgot about you until he was up there. You didn’t dare look down, you had always been a bit frightened of heights and were trying to hold on to your courage. Your heart was still thrumming in your chest and almost leapt out of it, when suddenly a tall Na‘vi landed next to you.
You bit back a frightened squeak and looked up at the familiar figure with big eyes. Neteyam. The one you fell on top off. Ugh, talk about embarrassment. „Are you alright?“, he asked, and it was the first time you heard his voice, since you passed out in the forest before you could. It was rich, dark but more sultry than his dads and made a shiver run down your spine involuntarily.
„(Y/N)?“, he smirked a bit and you couldn’t help but notice he remembered your name. But then you realized he was waiting for an answer and you were staring at him like an idiot. „Oh sorry! Uhh yeah, I’m just not used to climbing trees, plus I still kinda hurt all over“, you grimaced and looked up at him. It was crazy how you seemed to be in a Na‘vi body yourself now, but he was still towering over you by more than a head.
„Yeah my dad is like that sometimes, he forgot he was supposed to help you up until he was already at the top“, he chuckled making, „I’ll help you.“ You agreed and thought he would just pull you up now and then, but instead he firmly but still mindful of your injuries, hauled you onto his back and climbed the tree with you clinging onto him in shock.
You were up there three times faster than you were climbing before and he carefully set you down in the hut that was build in the tree. „T-thank you“, you were beyond flustered, you remembered - and saw here - that the Na‘vi had no problem with lots of naked skin, but only wearing a torn up summer dress and being pressed to Neteyams muscular back made you blush.
„You’re welcome sevin“, he grinned, but before you could ask what that meant, you were interrupted by his family. You swallowed and shrunk under their gazes, but you kind of felt safe with them, so you settled down around the food and started taking.
—————————
„That is crazy“, Lo‘ak was the first to break the silence you ended your story about what happened. And god was he right, it really was crazy. „Like I told you, it was Eywa“, Mo‘at looked a bit smug that she had been right from the start it seemed. It made the most sense that Eywa sent you here - considering the light, that you didn’t fall to your death and the atokirina the Sullys told you about.
You knew all their names now, Jake and Neytiri had Neteyam, Lo‘ak and Tuk, and Kiri was Grace‘ daughter - adopted by them. They were still speechless from what you had told them, reciting a summarized version of the movie to prove you were telling the truth and they didn’t know what to say.
„I think we should all probably sleep on this, it was a really long day“, Jake pulled everyone out of their thoughts, earning nods from everyone and and uncertain expression from you. Where would you go?
„Come on, you can sleep in my hut for now“, Kiri beckoned you to follow her and you were relieved they didn’t move you somewhere else, somewhere you would feel even more alone than here. „Thanks“, you told Kiri and then turned to the other Sullys, „and thank you for dinner and helping me!“ The Sullys wished you a good night, but only one particular pair of eyes on you made your heart speed up.
—————————
You had tried to keep it together the first few nights, thankfully falling asleep as soon as your head hit the hammock, because you were so exhausted. But it seemed like today it really sunk in that this would probably be your life from now on and you’d be here for the rest of it too.
You had been turning in your hammock too many times already trying to find sleep, so you finally gave up when the loud jungle noises drove you crazy and as quietly as possible snuck out the hut and onto the small platform in front of it, sitting down with your legs dangling in the air.
And then came the tears. It wasn’t that you were overly sad or missed your old life, it was just so so much to take in and so insanely overwhelming (you were blue for gods sake!) that you just couldn’t keep it together in that moment. And maybe you were mourning your old life a bit, but who could blame you for that - all the memories connected to your grandparents possessions, and maybe even your shitty job and apartment.
Trying to cry silently, you winced when someone sat next to you. „You okay?“, Kiri asked, bumping you gently with her shoulder in sympathy. „Yeah“, you tried to wipe your tears away, but she already saw them.
„And now again, but with an honest answer“, she squeezed your arm in encouragement and the tears were falling freely again, „are you okay?“ „Not really“, you sobbed, and to your surprise she immediately took you into her arms, making you feel comforted.
„You miss your home?“, she asked quietly while looking out into the glowing forest. „A bit, but not really it wasn’t a nice life I had there it’s just…a lot of change“, you mumbled and she hummed in understanding, continuing to hold you til you had cried it all out. Maybe that was what you needed in the first place - just to let it all out once and for all.
—————————
It had been almost two months already, and you were settling in as much as you could. You didn’t really miss your life back where you came from, putting your handcraft-skills to use was so much more fun than working in that dingy little kiosk. Plus, eventhough you didn’t have that many friends here, you were really close with Kiri and she was a much better friend than yours back at home. You two bonded over being kind off the weird girls of the clan, her with her deep connection to Eywa and you being the demon girl who fell from the sky.
It took some time getting used to your new body, you had looked into a mirror the second day you were here, and it surprised you that you still kinda looked like yourself, but you also didnt. You liked it though. The tail took some more time, as did the ears, because they more often then not acted without your permission and betrayed how you felt. But in true Omaticaya fashion, you were wearing the traditional tweng and chest covers (eventhough you felt a bit exposed at first), first borrowed from Kiri, but she quickly showed you how to make your own.
Other than Kiri, only Lo‘ak, Neteyam and of course little Tuk were honestly nice to you. The other Omaticaya girls your age either thought you were weird because of where you came from, or they seemed to dislike you because you interacted with Lo‘ak and Neteyam a lot - at least that’s what Kiri told you. You had just laughed at that, they were both nice and handsome of course and you might even have a little crush on the oldest Sully, but from what you’ve learned over the last months, he was the most sought after bachelor of the clan, so no way would he be into some former human who spend her day weaving with his little sister.
The Sullys (weirdly enough even Neytiri) took you in and Kiri didn’t mind sharing her hut with you for now. All the older Sully kids had their own smaller huts in the trees surrounding the family’s main one, so they had privacy until they moved out once they found a mate. They were all old enough to choose one already, but neither had picked one yet.
You on the other hand were reluctant to think about a future here, because you never knew if one day you would encounter that bright light again and be swept off back to your own world. You tried to blend that out in your everyday life here, but it was always looming over you.
The only thing you were missing from earth were books. Like, you loved going swimming with Tuk, foraging with Kiri or strolling through the forest with Neteyam when he wanted to show you something. But when you were alone, you really missed reading a good book. Which was why you were currently one the way back from the human outpost, having exchanged the book Norm gave you a week ago for a new one. Weirdly enough they actually did have quite a lot physical copies of books, curtsy of Grace from what Norm told you.
It was almost eclipse now, the forest starting to awaken in bioluminescence. Uh oh, this wasn’t good, considering you went alone when you shouldn’t have (but you didn’t want to bother anyone) and now you weren’t even halfway back to the village with nothing to defend yourself if you stumbled upon a predator.
Clutching the worn out copy of ‚Twilight‘ to your chest, you hurried along the familiar path and just crossed your fingers you would be fine and no one would find out you went alone. Eventhough your ears were alert, you were still tremendously startled when Neteyam suddenly landed infront of you. You stopped in your tracks as not to run into him and let out a frightened sound, before realizing who it was.
Oh no, he looked kinda angry. „What do you think you’re doing syulang?“, he sounded accusatory and eventhough you started to get a hang of the language, he refused to tell you what the little nicknames meant he called you. Consequently his siblings refused to aswell when you asked them, but not without giving you a stupid grin.
„I-I just wanted a new book?“, it sounded more like a guilty question then the innocent answer you wanted it to be. „Alone?“, you could see he was gritting his teeth trying to stay calm. „I didn’t want to bother anyone, it’s not that far! You didn’t have to come looking for me we’re almost there anyway“, you tried to protest weakly, eventhough the thought that he noticed you were gone and came looking for you (and knew you good enough to know where to look) made your heart race pathetically.
„Good thing I did though“, he raised an eyebrow and suddenly threw a small knife into the bush next to you, an animalistic howl ringing in the air before it was silent, „there was a stray viperwolf following you the last few minutes.“ Okay, maybe he was right after all and you really shouldn’t wander of too far on your own, especially not in the dark.
„Thank you“, was the only thing leaving your lips and Neteyam just rolled his eyes. He could never stay mad at you, even if he was angry with you for being so careless with your safety. Eywa, he really had a weak spot for you. Even now, looking so guiltily with your eyes glued to the forest floor, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Ever since you fell on top of him, his heart felt like it was fate that you came into his world. He could see his siblings were suspecting his infatuation with you - considering their glances and smirks. But he couldn’t help that he was protective, even if his siblings giggled when he told them he was going to search for you earlier.
He was glad he did though, he didn’t want to think about what could have happened to you. Plus showing off in front of you was an upside too. „Come on, let’s get you home“, he ushered you forward, not able to resist his tail slipping around your thigh. Your own tail swaying behind you restless as a reaction made him smirk.
—————————
„That’s really what the book is about? That’s crazy“, Kiri laughed while you two walked to communal dinner. Most of the time the Sullys ate here with the rest of the clan, only sometimes would they eat in private. „Don’t judge before you read it“, you chastised her with a grin, but you got her - especially in this world a love story about vampires must sound insane.
You two settled down in your usual spot at the edge of the busy clearing, waiting for the hustle to calm down a bit before getting your food. „Yeah, no I’m defiantly judging. But to your credit, if you read something like that you must really be a hopeless romantic“, she dramatically held her heart and fanned her face in mockery, making you giggle and pinch her side.
„Who’s a hopeless romantic?“, a familiar voice interrupted your conversation, making you blush immediately. „Not me“, Kiri said with a grin, and when she saw what her brother was carrying it got even wider. „It’s nothing“, you just shook your head and your heart jumped a bit when Neteyam sat down next to you. He normally ate with the other hunters or his friends, and sitting next to him made you incredibly nervous. Especially because of all the eyes on you.
To your relief everyone minded their own business relatively fast again, and you noticed Neteyam was looking at you. „What is it?“, you were curious now, looking up into his kind eyes, ignoring Kiris chuckles. „Here, I brought you dinner“, you only now noticed he had two leaves with freshly cooked meat on them in his hands.
„Oh thank you!“, you were suprised, but kinda glad you didn’t have to make your way though the crowd yourself. „It’s from the hunt today, I brought the sturmbeest down by myself“, he smirked, and you nodded trying to seem impressed. You weren’t really in the hunting game plus you weren’t even sure what a sturmbeest looked like yet, but it was cute how proud he was.
„Wow, that’s cool! Thank you“, you smiled at him in appreciation and he gave you a blinding smile. „Nothing for me brother?“, contrary to what she said, she didn’t look mad - she was wiggling her eyebrows with a grin. „Ahh get lost Kiri“, Neteyam waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, but he actually seemed a bit embarrassed - was he blushing?
Kiri just rolled her eyes and left to get food, leaving you two alone. „What was that about?“, you smiled and he gave you a roguish little smile. „Nothing yawne, just eat“, he urged you with a gentle hand on your elbow that made your skin tingle. Huh, that was a new nickname, you wondered what it meant.
—————————
You shouldn’t have let Lo‘ak convince you. But you wanted to see an ikran so bad! You hadn’t wanted to ask anyone in case it was like something private or sacred not to be shared, but when Lo‘ak offered to take you to see his ikran when you were both in the village bored out of your mind, you had only needed a bit convincing to leave without telling anyone.
You werent sure if you really weren’t allowed to go, but Neteyam always seemed hell bent on keeping you from each and every risk possible, so you assumed that extended to encountering an ikran.
„Come on (Y/N) don’t slow down!“, Lo‘ak always seemed to have an infinite amount of energy and you did your best to keep up with him without falling on your face. „Are we almost there?“, you called ahead, just narrowly avoiding a branch that would’ve knocked you in the head otherwise.
„Yeah just a bit ahead“, he called back and you rolled your eyes - this was the fourth time he said that. But it seemed like he was telling the truth this time, because you broke out of the treeline and stopped on a wide open cliff, looking out onto the hallelujah mountains.
„Wow“, you were amazed by the sight, Lo‘ak grinning cheekily at your stunned face. „Pretty cool, huh?“, he asked, bumping you with his shoulder and you only nodded. Your brain couldn’t make sense of the flying rocks, making it even more magical.
Lo‘ak suddenly whistled and after a moment or two, a mighty beast shot upwards from the abyss infront of the cliff, startling you so much you let out shocked yelp. Lo‘ak snickered at his successful attempt to mess with you - and then his ikran landed infront of you.
It was towering over the two of you, screeching at Lo‘ak like a greeting and eyeing you with alert. „He’s a sweetheart, just don’t look into his eyes“, he was already petting the dragon-like creature. You immediately averted your eyes towards the ikrans body rather than his head.
„Come here slowly“, Lo‘ak motioned for you to move closer and you did, trying to keep calm as not to startle the creature who could probably eat you with two bites. „Here“, he smiled when you were standing next to him, taking your hand and laying it onto his banshee, the creature not startled by another hand on his back.
It felt similar to a snakes skin, but the colors were even more intense up close. „This is so cool“, you breathed and could almost feel his proud smile. You knew it wasn’t always easy for the younger Sully, but it made you happy how carefree he seemed in moments like that.
„Neteyam might kill me when he finds out, but you wanna go for a ride?“, he grinned mischievously. „Are you kidding? Hell yes!“, you nodded in excitement, infected by Lo‘aks troublemaker vibe, the thought of messing with perfectly correct Neteyam a bit (even if you thought that part of him was adorable) making you grin too.
„Come on then!“, he hopped into his ikrans back with ease, pulling you up behind him. „Hold on tight!“, was the last warning he gave and then you were off, flying and maneuvering the hallelujah mountains with excited squeals and shocked gasps when Lo‘ak wanted to show off.
„This is amazing!“, you called, taking in the otherworldly view around you and the thrilling feeling of flying on a banshee. Lo‘ak only laughed, and suddenly dipped down straight, making you squeak in terror.
It had been about an hour or so, when he suddenly stiffened a bit. „Uh oh, the fun police“, he groaned, and when you looked over his shoulder you saw Neteyam on his ikran, a bit farther away.
With a sigh, Lo‘ak was making his way over to the cliff where you started from, landing there and helping you down before bidding goodbye to his banshee. As soon as he was gone, Neteyam landed. His ikran was a mighty beast, even bigger and a bit meaner looking than Lo‘aks and the rider himself looked just as mad.
„What are you two doing here?“, Neteyam was addressing Lo‘ak right away, not even looking at you, and to your shock he was basically seething. „We were bored so I offered to show her my ikran“, to his credit Lo‘ak didn’t even flinch under his brothers angry glare, only rolling his eyes.
„Why do you always have to do the things you’re not supposed to?! Take things that aren’t yours?! Putting others in danger?!“, Neteyam was basically shouting, and even Lo‘ak looked a bit startled by his brothers intense reaction.
„Neteyam it wasn’t his fault“, you tried to calm down the older Sully, but it only seemed to work a bit when you gently squeezed his upper arm. „Yeah sooo I’m gonna go“, Lo‘ak took the chance to dip now that Neteam was distracted for a second and Neteyam almost went after him if it hadn’t been for you hanging onto his arm.
„Don’t be like that, he just took me flying. I don’t think I was ever in any real danger“, you tried to look as innocent and sweet as possible as not to get yelled at too. Neteyam looked down at you for a moment, scanning you over once and then sighing, losing all the tension he previously had.
„Yeah you’re right, it’s not really about the risk, it’s just that…“, he started but let the sentence hang in the air, turning his head away from you and you were wondering what was happening. „Come on, you can tell me“, your hand slipped down his arm almost on its own, taking his hand in yours and making him look back at you.
„If you wanted to see an ikran why didn’t you ask me?“, he looked a bit embarrassed when he finally spilled what he was bothered by and you were taken aback for a moment. „I didn’t necessarily want to see an ikran, I was just bored and Lo‘ak was free - if you would’ve been around I would’ve asked you Neteyam“, you didn’t know why exactly he was so bothered by Lo‘ak taking you to fly.
„You…wanna meet mine too?“, he motioned to the beast behind him with his head and a hopeful glint appeared in his eyes. „I‘d love to“, you agreed, happy to see his spirits lifted again, „but makeup with Lo‘ak later okay? And don’t be so hard on him.“ He begrudgingly agreed while pulling you over to his banshee, who didn’t look so mean anymore now that his rider wasn’t angry either.
—————————
Every once in a while the Sullys had family dinner together in their hut and not in the communal area with the rest of the clan, just like tonight. It was a bit chaotic but you loved it - and you especially loved that they naturally involved you as part of it.
Everyone was there already except Neteyam, and you were settling down in the middle of the hut, the food laid out in the middle. Lo‘ak was still in the corner, filling his waterskin, and was about to make his way to sit in the free place next to you, when his older brother came in, a bit out of breath.
„Sorry I’m late, incident at training“, he explained, and you had to look away quickly before your gaze would get caught on his flexing muscles as he laid down his bow. Kiri next to you snickered - she had known about your crush on her older brother ever since she saw you ogling him when all of you were at the river.
You didn’t really catch what happened next, only seeing Lo‘ak who was almost standing next to you, about to sit down, and suddenly it was Neteyam who sat there (closer than his brother would’ve ever sat), and a grumbling Lo‘ak was walking away to sit down next to his mother, who seemed amused by her eldest behavior.
Before you could dwell on it too much, your train of thought was interrupted by Jake, but the way Neteyams thigh brushed yours when he helped you to some food (he was such a sweetheart), before helping himself to some, distracted you significantly.
„So (Y/N) tell me, as a former human yourself, what do you miss most about earth, like foodwise?“, Jake addressed you with a grin. The topic of earth was the thing the both of you bonded most over and next to the actual humans here, it was nice to have someone who could empathize with your situation a bit closer. Plus, Jake loved playing these little games with you, even if you were kind of from the past - at least from his perspective.
„Uh that’s a hard one“, you had like a million foods and drinks you missed from earth you missed, „if I had to pick like top 5 I’d probably say Ice cream, Sushi, cheesecake, coffee and maybe a nice cold coke.“
Jake nodded like he approved of your choices and then added, „only thing I’m really really missing is an ice cold beer.“ It was so funny to see the confused looks of the other family members, and maybe that was what actually prompted Jake to talk about this, you thought with a grin.
„Or a bag of chips and Guacamole“, you added and the both of you were laughing while Neytiri fondly rolled her eyes and the siblings just continued eating in confusion. „I’m glad you have someone to play your stupid little games with other than the sky people ma Jake“, Neytiri acted like she was annoyed by Jake’s antics, but you could tell she loved exactly that about him.
The conversation shifted from human food to the training incident Neteyam talked about earlier, but you didn’t really listen, because you were concentrating on eating your food without chocking when Neteyams tail wrapped itself around yours.
———————————
„Come on (Y/N)!“, Tuk beckoned you into the water she was already splashing around in and with a grin you joined her there. All of the Sullys were busy today, so Neytiri had asked if you could accompany Tuk to the Lagoon she was begging everyone to go to for days. It wasn’t that far, so it was safe, Tuks mother reckoned.
„Wanna see how good I can jump?“, Tuk was so excited to finally come here, that she was bouncing around like crazy, but her enthusiasm infected you too. „Of course! Show me!“, you laughed with her, sitting on a rock that was only a little submerged in the lagoon - you could see her jumping from the boulder perfectly from there.
It went on like that for a few hours, the two of you hanging out by the lagoon, talking, laughing and you even decorated her hair with little flowers. It made you a bit nostalgic, back on earth - if you would’ve had the money for college - you would’ve loved being a kindergarden teacher and hanging out with Tuk kinda made you wonder if you were to have your own children some day. You tried to bury the thought of her older brother as their father just as quickly as it came.
„Hey you two!“, as if you had summoned him, Neteyam strolled out of the bushes and Tuk excitedly leapt of the rock you two were sitting on, swimming over to her brother. „Neteyam!“, she threw herself into his arms wet as she was, but he didn’t seemed to mind and only caught her with a loud laugh. Damn, that didn’t really help stifle your previous thoughts.
„You’re having a good time?“, he smiled at her and she nodded vigorously, already moving around to be let down from his arms. „Yes! I wanna show you how good I can jump now!“, before he could even answer, she already ran over to the boulder she was jumping from the last few hours. „Give me a second, I’ll watch from over there“, Neteyam called out to her and when he pointed to you, and dived headfirst into the water like a pro, you had to admit you got a bit wet in your tweng.
He surfaced right in front of you and you could only look at him with a flustered expression - you didn’t think you would ever forget his smirking face right in front of your slightly spread legs. Before you could slip further into a naughty fantasy, he moved to the side and pushed himself up and you had to force yourself to move your eyes as to not ogle his wet and muscular body.
„Neteyam! Neteyam look!“, Tuk screamed before jumping into the water head first and the both of you laughed at her enthusiasm. „I don’t get how she has so much energy, she’s been doing that for hours“, you smiled and shook your head in disbelief. „Yeah, sometimes I wish I had that much energy too“, he grinned and playfully bumped your thigh with his.
God, the size difference between your kinda squishy one (you reckoned you had some human features because the female Navis were all corded muscle) and his thick muscular one was making you flustered, especially when he didn’t pull it away, instead keeping it pressed to yours.
„You did great Tuk!“, Neteyam called over to his little sister who had just emerged and tried to calm his racing heart at feeling you pressed up right next to him. He had waited for you to settle in fully, and it took some time for him to sort out the things you made him feel, but he decided he couldn’t wait anymore and started courting you when he heard the other male hunters talk about making a move on you. The thought alone made his tail move over yours.
Tuk continued showing of her jumps, while Neteyam worked up the courage to give you his gift. You had accepted the meat he gave you at dinner yesterday, the one he had hunted for you, so you should also accept the necklace he made you, but he was nervous still. Taking a deep breath, he fished the jewelry out of the little bag that was strapped to his loincloth and turned a bit towards you.
„I made something for you“, Neteyam said next to you and you averted your eyes from Tuk to look at what he meant. In his hands laid a beautiful necklace out of thin leather stripes with what you identified as gemstones braided in, and it looked almost identical to the one he was wearing. „Really? You made that for me?“, you looked up at him .
Neteyam had to remind himself that his little sister was still jumping around happily a few feet away, otherwise he would have kissed you on the spot. „Yeah“, he was breathless from the way you were staring up at him and the anticipation of your answer to his offering. „It’s beautiful 'Teyam. Can you help me put it on?“, you smiled at him and he almost lost his grip on the necklace when you called him that nickname.
„Of course“, the grin his face was sprouting was making your heart feel like it was expanding in your chest, so you quickly turned around for him to fasten the necklace. His fingers gently brushed your hair to the side and left a path of tingles in their way. The necklace was more like a choker and considering it was a gift from him, the thought sent a slight shiver through you.
When you turned around again, the way his necklace sat snugly against your pretty throat satisfied some primal side of him. Everyone could see who they had to answer to now if they decided to make a move on you, he thought with a smirk. „Thank you“, your pretty blush made him go feral and when you took his hand and squeezed it, he would’ve kissed you - if it hadn’t been for the water suddenly showering you two. „You aren’t even watching!“, Tuk complained, pouting in the water a few feet away.
——————————
„Pretty necklace you got there“, Kiri was smirking at you the next morning, when her, Tuk, Lo‘ak and you went foraging - but instead sat on a clearing and talked. „Oh thanks, 'Teyam gave it to me“, you smiled, your hand automatically reaching for the chocker like it had done many times til he gave it to you. „Teyam?“, Lo‘ak was grinning mischievously and you could feel yourself blush.
„You’re so in love it’s almost disgusting“, Kiri laughed, and you were rendered speechless for a moment. „I think it’s cute! When you two are mated, you’re our sister, that will be so cool!“, Tuk seemed excited, but you looked at them with wide eyes. „Why would we be mated?“, you pressed out and they all paused in their teasing.
„What?“, Kiri asked confused, „what do you mean? He’s been courting you for the last two weeks.“ She was looking at you like it was selfexplanatory. „He’s been what?!“, your voice took on a shrill note and you sat ramrod straight. „He hunted that sturmbeest for you and brought you the meat, sits with you at dinner even if he almost has to take me out for the seat, made you that necklace, took you flying after getting insanely jealous over me taking you for a flight and is way over the top protective over you?“, Lo‘ak looked at you as if you were stupid, but now that they labeled what had been happening as courting, every interaction with him ran through your mind with a different filter.
„You’ve broken her“, Tuk whined and snapped you out of your trance. „He’s…he’s been courting me? Why didn’t he say anything?“, you whispered and were surprised they heard you. „You really didn’t know?“, Kiri looked a bit shocked. „No! I’m not from here, remember? How would I know that? 'Courting‘ in my world is vastly different!“, you started panicking a bit.
„But you like him don’t you? I mean it’s quite obvious you two are into eachother“, Lo‘ak shrugged and didn’t really seem to see a problem here. „I-I do, a lot, but I still can’t mate with him“, you blushed when suddenly you realized what that mating would include but pushed the thought to the side.
„What? Why? Don’t you wanna be my sister?“, Tuk climbed over her older brother in order to sit in your lap, hitting him in the face with her tail in the process, making Kiri giggle. „Oh Tuk“, you cuddled her close, „I’d love to be your sister. I’m just worried about the possibility that one day the light that brought me here will take me back again - and I’d be gone just like that. It’s better not to form such permanent attachments as mating, no matter how much I like your brother.“
„Eywa brought you here for a reason (Y/N). You said you didn’t like your life on earth and I think she sent you here to live a happier life - a life with my brother“, Kiri tried to reassure you, but you still weren’t convinced. „Yeah (Y/N), he’s so in love with you, he’s never acted like that before. There are so many willing females throwing themselves at him, but he doesn’t even glance at them, because he’s only looking at you“, Lo‘ak looked as serious as you’ve never seen him before.
„Promise me you’ll at least talk to him? Soon? But knowing him I can tell you that much - he’d rather take all the time he can get with you even if it’s limited, than not having any time with you at all“, Kiri wisely told you and you sighed, nodding and hugging Tuk closer to you.
„Plus, I really hope you’ll stay here too“, Kiri almost seemed a little bashful, „you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.“ You looked at her and tried to stop yourself from tearing up. „Come here“, you opened your arms and beckoned her to join yours and Tuks hug, hugging her tightly when she finally moved with a roll of her eyes. „You’re the best friend I’ve ever had too Kiri“, you smiled and she squeezed you gently as a response.
„For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool too“, Lo‘ak chimed in from next to you with a grin and after exchanging a mischievous grin, you and Kiri pulled him into the hug too with a laugh, ignoring the groaning Tuk (and Lo‘ak).
It seemed like you really had found a family here too. And it was weird to think that Neteyam really returned your feelings, for gods sake he was courting you! Your heart wanted to jump out of your chest and you just prayed that Eywa would give you a sign or anything else to let you know you would never have to go back and could spend your life here - and that you could accept his advances and stay here with all of them.
————————
Neteyam decided he couldn’t wait anymore and would ask you to be his mate tonight. You seemed to accept his courting and he just wanted you to be his. So he decided to talk to his parents about this, eventhough he was sure they had already heard through gossip that he was courting you - and by gossip he meant Kiri and Lo‘ak.
„Mom, Dad, can we talk for a moment?“, he weirdly enough had found his parents in the same place - they were at home sorting through herbs. He could only guess they were told by his grandmother to do so. At his appearance they stopped their work and he settled down with them. „It’s about (Y/N)“, his mother guessed and gave him a knowing smirk and he was almost offended by how easy he was to read.
„(Y/N)? What about her?“, Jake was confused and Neteyam was reassured that it seemed to at least be only his mother that could see right through him. Then again, his dad was generally pretty clueless about things like that. „Ma Jake, he’s been courting her for two weeks now“, Neytiri rolled her eyes at his dads density.
„What, really? And does she know that?“, Jake asked and Neteyam and his mother were looking at him in question. „She accepted my gifts and the meat I hunted for her, and my offers to spend time with her if you mean that“, Neteyam shrugged and his stomach fluttered when he thought about you.
„No, what I mean is, that she’s not from here, humans don’t 'court' like Na‘vi do, are you sure she knows what you’re doing is leading to you two being mated?“, his father explained himself, „Because I’m not sure anyone ever explained that part of our culture to her.“ Mother and son were in thought for a moment, as they had to grasp the concept that she was from a completely different world - she had adapted so well they forgot about that sometimes.
When none of them said anything, Jake cleared his throat and continued. „I don’t doubt she likes you, even your daft old dad sees that, and I’m not telling you she will say no or anything - just be patient with her because she might not expect it, okay?“, he reassured his oldest son. „Thank you Dad“, Neteyam nodded gratefully and then looked over to his mom, „but the reason I came here for originally was to ask for both of your approval and permission to ask her to be my mate tonight.“
His parents exchanged a fond glance, proud of the man their son had become and proud of his choice. „Of course you have our approval. (Y/N) might not be able to become Tsahìk without training, but my mother and I talked to Kiri about this possibility - and she is more than suited and willing to take on that role when the time comes“, Neytiri smiled encouragingly at her older son, happy that he found someone to spent his life with.
„Your mother is right, you’re perfect for eachother“, his dad clapped his back proudly and Neteyam felt significantly lighter than when he arrived in the family’s hut. „I think you should know that you might need to keep a closer eye on her if you announce your bond though“, his mother looked a bit thoughtful, „I heard that some of the other woman already suspect your affections for her and they don’t seem to be happy about being overruled by what they perceive as an outsider.“
Neteyams previously light mood, darkened in record time. His mother thought they would compromise you somehow? He couldn’t even fathom the thought of you being hurt, but he knew you weren’t the best at defending yourself so if they caught you alone it was absolutely possible. „Don’t worry Neteyam, we’ll all keep an eye on her“, his Dad try to calm him, the dangerous glint in his eyes unsettling him. „Thank you, both of you“, he gestured a goodbye to his parents, „I’m going to find her now.“
—————————
He had been searching for you a while before he found Kiri who told him you were off reading again, on the small Plattform he had showed you weeks ago that was high up in the trees. With a grin he had run off, that actually fit perfectly into his plans. The platform was private and cozy, just right to ask such an important question.
When her reached the tree, it started to get dark slowly and he quickly climbed upwards. He could hear you turn a page when he was close and when he could finally see you his chest got all warm. You were so beautiful, tucked into the corner with the blanket you brought and completely immersed in your book.
„Hello yawne“, he grinned when you were startled and looked at him in surprise. „Don’t scare me like that 'Teyam!“, you playfully scolded him and sat upright, closing your book after marking the page. With a soft smile, he moved onto the platform and sat down on the bouncy material next to you, so close he could see you blush a little - but when you seemed to automatically lean into him a bit, his heartbeat quickened ridiculously.
He didn’t know where to begin. „What is it?“, you looked at him in worry and carefully took his hand, yours so small and delicate in his. He immediately cradled it lovingly. „You always asked me what the nicknames I called you meant“, he started and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.
„Yes“, you were a bit breathless at the affection he was showing you. „Syulang means flower, because you’re just as unique as every single one on this moon“, he gently pushed a piece of hair out of your face and your eyes widened in wonder. „Sevin means beauty, because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever encountered“, he whispered, his tail moving to tangle with yours and your breath momentarily stopped.
„Neteyam“, was the only thing you could whisper, not knowing if you wanted him to stop or to keep going. He sent you a shaky smile and moved his head closer to yours, almost touching your forehead to eachother. „Yawne means beloved“, his breath hit your face softly and you could guess what came next, closing your eyes in agony, „because I love you. Eywa (Y/N) I love you so much and I see you. Oel ngati kameie. I’m yours, if you’ll have me. Be mine? Be my mate?“
You wanted him so bad, you wanted to love him and you wanted to let him love you - but you couldn’t. You couldn’t bare the thought of leaving him behind if you would encounter the light that brought you here again. And you had every intention to tell him, but when you opened your eyes and looked into his golden ones, so full of love and desire you were left speechless.
His hand slipped to your cheek, and you noticed how he moved in even closer - just a tilt of your head and you would’ve been kissing your love. Closing your eyes again, you couldn’t bear to see the heartbroken look on his face as you pulled away from him. „I can’t Neteyam“, you had to force the words out, your heart not wanting to say them at all.
It was silent for a second and you thought maybe he was gone as quickly as he came, but a big firm hand pulling your face back around proved you wrong. „Did I do something wrong? I thought you accepted my courtship, did I read you wrong? Please (Y/N) look at me“, he pleaded with you, the desire and love in his eyes now overridden by panic.
„No! No you didn’t do anything wrong and you didn’t read me wrong I do…I do love you“, your heart couldn’t take hie broken expression, even if you couldn’t be with him you had to atleast make sure he knew it wasn’t him. He brightened up a little at that, but his ears were still low and close to his head. „What is it then? Talk to me yawne, please“, he looked so concerned for you and was so gentle still, that you were sure he would be the right choice if you could let yourself be his.
„I didn’t…realize you were courting me at first, not until your siblings pointed it out to me“, you started to explain yourself, trying to keep your composure. „When they told me I was elated at first that you returned my feelings, but then…then I realized I could be pulled out of this world any moment again, we can’t be sure it won’t happen and I can’t bear the thought of leaving you, especially not after making the bond“, you continued, „not to mention that you’re the next leader of your clan and some people still see me as a demon, it’s not an appropriate match anyway.“
„Bullshit“, Neteyam blurted out after a moment of silence, repeating something that his father said when he’s frustrated. You just looked at him with wide eyes. „You’re perfect for me, the clan will have to deal with that, most of them have accepted you already. I already talked to my parents and they approve yawnetu, Kiri will be Tsahìk when the time comes and they love you, they couldn’t think of someone better for me either“, he ranted on and you had to smile at his vigor to convince you, your hand gently stroking his cheek.
„You forgot the most important part“, you sighed, letting your hand fall down. He caught it and pressed it back to his cheek, not willing to lose that feeling. „I don’t care. I’d rather have only a year, a month or a week with you than not have you at all“, he was desperate, wishing you would just let him love you. „I can’t“, you were on the verge of tears, he could see it and his heart broke even more. „Maybe Eywa sends a sign, letting me know I won’t ever go back, but we don’t know that will happen“, this was worse than all the scenarios he thought about, knowing you wanted him too, but feeling like you couldn’t was torture.
„Do you want to? Go back I mean?“, he suddenly asked, catching you off guard. You were lost in thought for a moment. Back home? Was it even home anymore? You missed your true crime and your crochet, and going to the bar with your friends once in a while, but that was nothing compared to what you’d miss if you would go back. You couldn’t even fathom how much it would hurt to leave all of this behind.
„No. Never“, you shook your head decisively.
—————————
You were essentially hiding from Neteyam the last two days. He was somehow convinced if he would just dote on you enough he would get Eywa to send a sign and you to agree to mate with him. It was probably not working on Eywa, but your resolve on the other hand was crumbling with every sweet gesture and every gentle touch. That’s precisely why you were avoiding him, trying to stop yourself from falling into his arms.
But you couldn’t run forever and Kiri had bullied you into attending communal dinner tonight, so there you were, making your way to your usual spot to meet her. „Evening (Y/N)“, someone greeted you from behind and you stopped in your tracks, and turned around. To your surprise it was Au‘tel, one of the hunters from the clan - not nearly as impressive as Neteyam though. You had to reprimand yourself for thinking about him.
„Good evening“, you smiled at him politely, still wondering what he could possibly want from you. He had never talked to you before now. „I brought you some of the food“, he grinned and held out a portion of cut up fruits, and your eyes widened. Now that you knew what it meant, you couldn’t possibly accept what seemed to be a courting gesture.
You were raking your brain for an acceptable rejection, when you felt him before you even saw him. His hand possessively went around your waist and you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. This wasn’t good. „She doesn’t need you to provide food“, he was basically growling at the other man, you had never heard Neteyam sound so venomously, Au‘tel shrinking visibly under the larger man’s glare.
„Sure, I apologize“, he was gone as suddenly as he came, and you were glad he scurried away instead of talking back, because you were sure Neteyam wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt him. Suddenly you were very aware of how quiet it was around you, the people eating dinner pausing and looking at the scene unfolding infront of them.
Oh god, that were definitely way too many eyes on you, and they were looking curiously at the way their future leader was still holding you closely. And the way some of the other young women were eyeing you with murderous envy was making you panic, pulling yourself out of Neteyams grip hastily and disappearing into the forest quickly. You would apologize to Kiri later.
You were blushing massively and breathing too quickly, not even knowing where you were going. You had to admit it was kind of hot how he staked his claim on you, but then you remembered all the people looking at you, judging you and you were so blinded by the tears that were suddenly running down your face from your feelings that were pulling you into all different directions the last few days, that you nearly missed the steep cliff that suddenly opened up infront of you.
You gasped, trying to stop yourself from falling down into the dark abyss, but you couldn’t catch yourself anymore and you were sure you would’ve fallen hadn’t it been for Neteyam. You didn’t even notice him following you, but thank Eywa he did, pulling you back from the cliff and into his chest safely.
Neteyams heart almost fell out of his chest when he saw you nearly fall down that cliff, holding you even tighter at the thought of what could’ve happened. „You’re okay, you’re okay“, he tried to soothe not only you but him, turning you around and pulling you into a tight hug.
You let yourself be held for a moment, just enjoying the close proximity you had forbidden yourself the past days, before pulling yourself away from his chest and wiping your tears away. He reluctantly let you go, not looking happy with having you leave the safety of his arms. „Thank you 'Teyam“, you mumbled, looking to the ground and trying move around him to go back to Kiris hut to just sleep. You really lost your appetite anyway.
„Don’t go“, he pleaded, trying to hold you back, but you shook him off. „I told you we can’t. You shouldn’t have done that back there, everyone saw“, you looked up at the taller Na‘vi in desperation. „Good. Let them see who you belong to, so no other skxwang will try to make a move on you“, he was basically seething at the thought of that idiot trying to court you back at dinner.
You were stunned at the intensity of his possessiveness for a moment, some primal part of you was urging you to lay down and mate with that perfect male, but you quickly squashed the thought. „Don’t…don’t say that“, you whispered, and Neteyam seemed to realize all too quickly what effect he had on you and stepped closer.
„Why? Does it make you want to mate with me?“, he was smirking, something rumbling deep in his broad chest, his pectorals flexing under your gaze. You knew if you would’ve stayed only a second longer you would’ve given yourself to him - so you ran.
—————————
You knew it was childish and you had to talk about it, but you just needed a day to have some peace and quiet. In the morning you had immediately fled the trees that housed the Sullys huts and settled in a small clearing with a basket to weave and keep you occupied until you were ready to go back.
You were seriously contemplating giving into your heart and accepting Neteyam, but you just couldn’t shake the image of a heartbroken Neteyam if you really would be taken back someday. You knew what happened to Na‘vi when their mates died (and you doubted disappearing would be different), and you didn’t want Neteyam to wither away slowly because of you. Not if he could’ve had a chance to live a happy life with someone else some day if you were sent back - but mating with him and making the bond would rob him of that.
It was already getting dark and you knew you had to go back, so you slowly made your way through the forest, holding your finished basket in one hand. You were a few minutes away from the Sullys huts, when you encountered Saelia, Nes‘ti and Tizon, three of the women who were thought to be picked as Neteyams mate - if it hadn’t been for you.
„Look what we’ve got here“, Nes‘ti laughed when they spotted you and you just looked at them like a deer caught in the headlights. „It’s the demon“, Saelia chuckled darkly, „probably coming from a secret date with Neteyam.“
Oh no, this wasn’t going to turn out pretty, you thought as they stepped closer to you. „I don’t see it, do you?“, Nes‘ti was eyeing you in mockery. „No, no I really don’t“, Tizon cackled, and they exchanged glances. „See what?“, you had the courage to ask, but realized immediately that was stupid. They suddenly dropped the fake humor and looked at you in rage.
„See whatever the hell he sees in you!“, Saelia spit out, taking a step forward and startling you. „Yeah we have been wondering what it could possibly be, you’re not even one of the people, and you managed to take Toruk Maktos eldest son“, Tizon pushed you back by the shoulders, and you stumbled back, luckily catching yourself.
„Yeah, he’s been completely ignoring us ever since you fell out of the fucking sky!“, Saelia seemed to be seeing red and suddenly pushed you back way harder than Tizon did, making you stumble and you turned trying to catch yourself. Your foot got caught on a root, and you fell head first against a rock laying on the ground, effectively splitting your forehead open.
„You shouldn’t have done that!“, you heard them bickering behind you. „What?! You did it too!“, someone hissed back, and you felt them scurry away quickly, now that they realized they injured you. Groaning you sat up, already feeling the blood running down your face. Great. This was just great.
——————————
„Ouch“, you hissed as Neytiri cleaned the cut on your forehead, but her grip on your chin stayed firm. „Now, tell me how this happened, and no lies this time“, she berated you. Maybe trying to sell that you only fell wasn’t the smartest idea with her - would’ve worked with Jake though. „It was just those stupid girls, pestering me about Neteyam“, you sighed and she looked down at you in concern.
„They hit you?“, she inquired further, putting some paste on the cut now that it stopped bleeding and it immediately soothed the stinging. „No, they pushed me around and I tripped“, you recounted the events from earlier, and looked up at her. She finished up with your cut and sat down next to you in her family’s hut.
„And now tell me what else is bothering you child“, you rarely saw her this gentle and took a deep breath. „It’s just… Neteyam and I-“, you were suddenly interrupted by Neteyam and Lo‘ak coming into the hut, and your eyes immediately found his.
„What the hell happened“, against your expectations Neteyam was deathly calm while looking at the cut on your forehead. This seemed to be even worse than his anger, considering his mother and brother left the hut immediately. You were scrambling up, standing on the woven material the floor was made out of, and tried to think of something to say.
Neteyam crossed the space between you in seconds, cradling your face gently despite his obvious anger simmering underneath the surface. „What. Happened.“, he asked again, and as if he could sense you were trying to think of an excuse he added, „and don’t even think about lying to me.“
„It…it was just those girls“, you started, but his eyes told you his anger was flowing over. „They didn’t mean to! The were just pushing me, I fell by accident“, you tried to calm him down, because eventhough you didn’t like those girls, you didn’t wish Neteyams wrath upon them either.
„Nobody hurts you“, he hissed, his jaw clenched tightly, letting go of you slowly and turning towards the door. „Wait, don’t do this Neteyam“, you tried to hold him back, but he was walking towards the entrance with purpose, and you just stood there helplessly thinking of things that could convince him to stay.
„Neteyam! Please!“, you called for him, but it seemed like he was in tunnel vision, not snapping out of it. So you did the only thing that came to your mind right then. „Kiss me!“, you blurted out, and that indeed made him stop in his tracks.
„What did you say?“, he sounded agitated still, his back to you, but at least he stopped moving. „Kiss me, please“, you whispered in a desperate attempt to keep him there - and also because you finally let your heart speak its mind.
He turned around slowly, like a predator not wanting to scare its prey, and looked into your eyes for a moment. He seemed to find what he was searching for, because in seconds he wrapping one arm around your waist pulling you close, while the other gently cupped your face - then he bend down and his lips were on yours.
It was passionate and needy from the start, his lips were slightly rough against your soft ones, but it was the perfect fit. They moved in sync, his tongue carefully finding its way into your mouth, and you couldn’t hold back the whimper that left your throat at the animalistic way he claimed you right there.
Your little sound egged him on even more, greedy hands pulling you closer, because now that he finally had you in his arms, so soft and pliable, he was gonna make damn sure to show you how much he loved you - how much he wanted you. His tails possessively wrapped around your thigh, while he felt like for the first time in his life he was complete. Like this was where he needed to be.
The kiss turned softer, full of love and desire, his hands roaming your waist, grasping your hips while you clung onto his biceps, his muscles flexing under your grip. He was basically kissing you senseless, you didn’t know up and down, you only knew where he was. The feeling of his lips was exhilarating, and you wanted nothing more then to give yourself to him fully - but you couldn’t .
Finally needing to breathe, you pulled back slightly, smiling when the tall warrior chased your lips desperately. „Say you’re mine (Y/N)“, Neteyams voice was husky, a raspy, primal edge in his words. „I am 'Teyam. I always was“, you sighed, not being able to lie to him anymore, he deserved to know, even if you couldn’t make the bond with him yet.
Hearing your say that you were his made a growl rise in his throat that seemed almost instinctual, acknowledging that he had you, not only in his arms but he had your heart. „Just…just hold me tonight?“, your breathless whisper made his heart swell. „Of course, yawne“, he smiled happily, knowing this was a step towards mating with you, even if you wouldn’t tonight.
He swept you off your feet, grinning at the little squeak you let out at his sudden action, and carried you quickly into his hut. It was in a tree close to the Sullys, but from all of his siblings it was the farthest away. You had your face buried in his neck, and the way he could feel your lips ghosting over it distracted him like crazy.
There were no words exchanged between you two, Neteyam laid you down on his bed gently, pulling you into his arms immediately and wrapping his tail around your waist for security. Having you in his arms, all safe and warm and smelling so good, made him feel a bone deep satisfaction that almost scared him - he could never lose you.
————————————
It wasn’t as hard as you would’ve thought to resist Neteyam the next day, because he was gone for an out of the ordinary hunting trip until dinner was almost over. When Jake had told him in the morning he had to accompany the hunting party, he had almost refused to go because he wanted to stay with you. But with a bit of sweet encouragement (and the promise of more kisses when he returned) you were able to convince him.
After the events from last night, you had been praying to Eywa regularly throughout the day to just please, please send you a sign so you could fully be with the Olo‘eyktans son. But there was nothing so far, dampening your mood significantly.
You were pulled from your thoughts, when suddenly someone sat next to you, pulling you into his arms. „'Teyam“, you giggled when he kissed your cheek gently, turning so you could look at him better. Eywa, he looked so handsome with his visor and bow still sling over his back. „Hello syulang“, he mumbled into your ear and you hummed contentedly.
Before either of you could get any more handsy infront of the clan, your ears were assaulted by a loud 'woosh' sound, the fires that were burning blown out and in the middle of the clearing was something that made you heart stop. The white light that had brought you here.
Everyone was frozen, staring at the slightly pulsing and swaying white orb, that looked otherwise harmless, when you were pulled out of your rigor by Neteyams arms tightening around you. You looked at him and could see the horror in his eyes, knowing exactly what that was from the description you had given him.
You felt like this was it, this was your sign, and somehow you had the urge to get a bit closer. You were wondering why Neteyam let you go so easily, but you felt like you were in trance, having to face the thing that changed your life.
Everyone else didn’t move, looking either at you or still at the light, and you slowly moved through the crowd. Did this mean you had to go back home? Your thoughts strayed to your apartment, your books probably still sitting on the side table. Your crochet blanket abandoned on the couch. The little dingy kiosk you worked in, your rude neighbor complaining about going up the stairs too loud.
You stopped infront of the light. Was that home? You raised your hand a bit. But back where you came from, that wasn’t really home.
Home was gossiping with Kiri while weaving baskets, and trying to talk Lo‘ak out of whatever stupid thing he had planned again (but going along with it in the end). It was swimming with Tuk and reading in that hammock above the trees. It was laying in Neteyams arms, falling in love with him.
This was the sign you had been praying for, Eywa was giving you the choice to stay here or to go back. You smiled for a moment, lowering your hand and turning to where you knew Jake and Neytiri were sitting. „I’d like to stay if that’s okay“, you were talking quietly, but going by the leaders grin, he heard you loud and clear.
As if the tension snapped, the light disappeared into the sky as quickly as it came, the fires mysteriously burning again, and then you were engulfed by a happily sobbing Kiri. Tuk was clinging to your leg and even Lo‘ak joined the hug making you laugh in relief. „I’m so glad you stayed tsmuke“, Kiri grinned, before letting go to let her parents step forward. [sister]
To your surprise, Neytiri pulled you into a hug too, followed by Jake and you were smiling but also blushing a bit from all the attention. Not to mention the clan cheering around you. „Thank you (Y/N), thank you for staying“, Neytiri said, Jake squeezing your shoulder in gratitude and you know they meant 'thank you for not breaking our sons heart’.
But where was said son? Kiri pulled you close, seemingly knowing what you were thinking when you were looking around searching for him. „When he saw you raise your hand he took off, I don’t know where he went“, she looked concerned, and you knew why - Neteyam probably thought you were going to take the chance to go back home when you had raised your hand for a moment.
———————————
He didn’t know how long he had been running through the forest, he didn’t feel the leaves hitting his face or the bark scratching his body when he passed the trees to close. He was panting, trying to suppress the feelings that would be his downfall, but when he arrived in the hammock you were always reading in - his brain leading him there instinctively - and the last book you’ve read laid there forgotten, he broke down.
You reached out for the light, you left him, leaving him alone in this world while you went to another. He couldn’t even bear to watch you disappear, his heart feeling like it was shriveling up and dying at the thought that he would never get to see you again. Hold you in his arms, feel your lips on his like last night. He couldn’t even blame you for wanting to go back, if he would be thrown into another world he would probably want to too.
He could feel tears streaming down his face and the way he began to panic, the book you were holding in your hands just two days ago taunting him, and he felt like he could hear you call his name. 'Teyam!' he was sure he was hallucinating your voice, kneeling down infront of the book in anger, begging Eywa to make it stop.
The pain mixed with your soft voice drove him insane and he was about to rip the book apart in anger, when your voice suddenly sounded a lot closer and a lot more real.
„Don’t you dare destroy my book 'Teyam“, you had known exactly where he would go when he was this upset about you, finding him in the hammock just like you thought. Your heart was breaking for the man you loved, he seemed to be so broken thinking that you were gone.
But when he heard your voice so close, he finally seemed to snap out of it, his eyes meeting yours and a sob left his mouth. „You’re not real“, he whispered, shaking his head in desperation and you immediately scrambled closer with a concerned look on your face.
„I didn’t leave, I’d never leave you Neteyam“, you promise him, your hands settling on his cheeks and making him look into your eyes again. „But…but you reached out to the light…you left“, he whimpered, not sure if he should believe you or not. „If you would’ve stayed two seconds longer, you would’ve seen I decided to stay, stay here with you“, you smiled, wiping away his tears, but he still seemed reluctant.
„This can’t be real“, his eyes moved over you in wonder, seemingly trying to decide if you were really here or just a bittersweet trick his mind was playing on him. Until he felt a sharp pinch on his biceps, looking at you slightly offended. „You believe I’m real now?“, you grinned, and when it sunk in that you really were here, that you stayed for him, he tackled you to the floor (carefully of course) and pressed his lips to yours.
Now that you knew you would never have to leave and could be with him fully, the kiss felt different than before. Less desperate and more on the deeper side, your emotions running at an all time high. You pulled back slightly, blushing at the way he was laying on top of you and looking at you with hooded eyes full of passion.
„This sign…it means I’ll never leave 'Teyam“, you whispered, a bit flushed from the kiss and from what you were trying to insinuate. His eyes immediately darkened in understanding. „Please say it. Please say you’ll be my mate“, his voice was husky, and as if that wasn’t enough, with the way he was laying between your legs, you could feel a very prominent bulge pressing right up against your moist tweng.
You nodded your head with a gentle smile. „I’m yours if you’ll still have me. Please take me ma 'Teyam“, you bit your lip in nervousness, not usually this bold, but the way a punched out groan left his mouth made it worth it.
He couldn’t hold back anymore when you called him the pet name usually reserved for mated couples, pulling you into another kiss immediately. You were finally his, and he would make sure to show you and everyone else that you belonged to him - some primal side of him set free at the permission to finally bond and mate with you.
He kissed you senseless til you both needed to breathe, his lips then trailing down your delicate neck, leaving marks along the way and leaving you breathless. You were so perfect, the way you were completely giving yourself to him, trusting him and being so pliable, it made him almost cum into his tweng. You would be the perfect mate, and perfect mother. Eywa, he was so in love.
His large hands freed you of your chest covering, his eyes never leaving your breasts, your nipples peaking under his intense gaze. „Don’t just stare“, you whined, already desperate for his touch and with a predatory grin he took you into his mouth. You chocked on our moan, his tongue a rough texture that felt oh so good on your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure right to your pulsing core.
Neteyam was lost in your soft and heavy breasts, clearly your human DNA had an influence there, considering they were bigger and softer than normal Na‘vi breasts. But he was loving it, and he was especially loving your sensitivity, arching your back and pushing your chest into his mouth.
He switched to the other nipple, grazing it with his teeth, and you swear if he wanted to he could’ve made you cum just from that. But you needed more. „'Teyam please, I need you“, you begged, your thighs trying to clench in order to get some friction, but his massive body blocked them.
He finally pulled himself away from your chest in order to take of your tweng, and shuffled down your body, so that he could bully his way between your thighs with his broad shoulders and expose your wet and swollen pussy to him.
„Eywa you’re so perfect ma yawne“, he groaned when he saw the way you were clenching around nothing, your smell making him dizzy in the best way, and before you could plead with him to touch you, his hot mouth was already on you. He was stroking your clit with his rough tongue painstakingly slowly, pulling your legs over his shoulder and holding you so firm by your hips that you were sure you would be sprouting bruises later (that you would wear around the village with pride).
You could only take what he gave you, his vice grip not giving you much space to do anything else, but the way he was in control scratched something primal inside you, making you submit to him even more. Suddenly he pushed two fingers into you, slowly fucking you with them and making sure you’re prepared to take him.
Your tail subconsciously wrapped around his arm, making him groan into your pussy and you squeezed around his fingers at that. But when he started sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit, adding a third finger and hitting that spongey spot inside you perfectly, you came without warning, breathless moans and whimpers leaving your mouth.
He growled at the feeling of you cumming on his tongue, your pussy sucking in his fingers desperately and he couldn’t wait for them to be replaced by his cock. He only stopped when you were pushing him away in oversensitivity, unhappy with having to stop tasting your sopping pussy.
But then you pulled at his arm to get him on top of you again and quicker than you would’ve thought possible he was kissing you again. He tried to pour all his adoration and love into that one kiss, telling you all the things he currently couldn’t form into words.
He pulled back panting, a loving smile adorning his face. You were breathless with anticipation when he pulled his kuru over his shoulder, urging you to do so too. „Are you ready yawne, ready to become mine forever?“, he asked in a husky voice, the anticipation killing him. „Of course I am ma 'Teyam“, you smiled and then the two of you were already exposing the sensitive tendrils at the end of you braids.
Slowly you were moving them towards one another, letting them wrap around eachother, joining you both forever through the sacred bond. A shudder ran through the both of you, your tails and ears moving in ecstasy. You could really feel him, feel your souls joining eachother, effectively making you one, making you mates.
„Ma muntxa“, Neteyam growled right next to your ear, not being able to hold back his primal urges anymore. So he got rid of his loincloth quickly, hissing when his hard cock slid between your pussy lips, covering him in your essence. You whimpered when his head caught you clit, effectively spreading around his precum on your already weeping cunt.
„Please ma 'Teyam, need you“, you pleaded, moving your hips in an effort to catch his head in your entrance. Seeing how desperate you were, he didn’t waste anymore time, bracing himself onto of you more securely, before carefully sinking into the hot cradle between your thighs.
He had to refrain himself from pounding into you right away, reminding himself that this was your first time. You were holding onto his biceps for support, the feeling of fullness spreading through you like wildfire. It was overwhelming, feeling the bond and then feeling him so deep inside you physically too, stretching your poor pussy almost past its limit.
He was thick, his cock adorned with ridges that rubbed your sweet spot just the right way with every inch he pushed in, until he was finally bottomed out. His heavy balls were resting against your ass, basically pulsing with all the seed he had ready to fill you up.
Neteyam was growling next to your ear, his muscles tense in struggle to keep still and letting you adjust. But your tight, wet heat was pulling around him like a vice, trying to suck him in and he felt his hips start moving on their own account.
He started dragging back his hips more with each thrust, your walls clamping down tight and breathless whimpers leaving your lips. The way he was moving above you, all coiled muscle and pleasured expression was making you feel some type of way - especially the way he was so dominating and primal, starting to lose control and pound into you with vigor.
He gripped your thigh with one hand, angling his hips different, and then he was thrusting into your sweet spot with every move of his hips. The moans and whines were falling freely from your mouth, spurring him on further and when he thought about how you were finally his, his mate, he pulled you into another deep kiss.
„Oh god 'Teyam I’m g-gonna-", you tried telling him you were about to cum, but he interrupted you with another kiss, his hips never faltering. But it seemed like he knew what you were saying, one of his hands moving between you and firmly circling your clit, pushing you over the edge so suddenly, you could only open your mouth in a silent scream.
Neteyam groaned in despair when he felt you tighten around him, almost blowing his load right then, but he was determined to have you cum a third time so he continued fucking you through your orgasm until you were whining from the overstimulation.
He slowed down a bit, but never ceasing his thrusts entirely, letting you catch your breath for a moment. „You okay yawne?“, he kissed your cheek gently, making your eyes open with a satisfied smile. „Yeah, perfect“, you answered, and his heart melted at the way you looked at him with so much love.
With a grin, he picked up the speed and force of his thrusts again, suddenly overcome by the reality of getting you pregnant. He let out a loud moan, the thought of you swollen with his child, the evidence of your bond and the way everyone would know to keep their hands off of you, made him slide in and out of your tight heat with determination.
„Eywa, I’m almost there ma yawne“, your mate groaned above you, „gonna fill you up so good love, gonna make sure you’ll carry my child.“ The suddenly carnal desires spilling out of his mouth awakened something deep inside of you, and you whined pathetically, clinging on to your mate while your next high was - to your surprise - already approaching.
„Fuck, you just got so tight, you want that mhm? Want your mate to fill you up? Get you pregnant?“, he panted above you, abs flexing against you and cock still relentlessly abusing your sensitive cunt in just the perfect way. „Yes, please ma 'Teyam“, you gasped, feeling his urges through the bond intensely.
And then he changed his angle a bit, his lower abdomen grinding into your clit just slightly with every harsh thrust he gave you, and it didn’t take long before the breath was knocked out of you with your next orgasm.
You were gripping him so tight, your whole body begging him to breed you, sucking him deeper than you thought was possible. He only managed a few more thrusts before burying himself as far as possible inside you, almost painfully hitting your cervix, before spilling his seed into you with a loud growl.
He was grinding into you a little still, his cock so tight inside of you that his cum seemed to flow directly into your womb, making you feel oh so deliciously full - and also prolonging your high significantly, your body trying to take all it was given.
When you were both slowly coming back to yourselves, Neteyam carefully turned you around, laying on his back with you on top and making sure his cock stayed inside of you so nothing could spill out. „Ma (Y/N)“, he sighed dreamily, pushing your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead gently.
The satisfied but tired smile never leaving your lips, you looked up a bit with hooded eyes. „Are you okay yawne? I didn’t hurt you?“, the man who had been mercilessly fucking you stupid just a few minutes ago was suddenly the sweet and caring male you knew.
„No you didn’t my love, everything is just perfect“, you sighed happily, feeling safe and whole in his arms, the soft kiss he pressed to your lips only intensifying that feeling. „Promise me you’ll never leave?“, you almost didn’t hear him, your mate suddenly sounding so insecure it made your heart break. „Never. I’ll never leave, I love you so much 'Teyam“, you kissed him again, humming a bit when his (somehow still hard) cock moved inside of you.
„Oel ngati kameie“, he whispered, holding you even tighter and your burrowed your head in his neck softly kissing it. „I see you“, you whispered back.
=================
Sooo finally after for fucking ever I had the motivation to write again and I think this is actually my longest single one yet! I hope you enjoyed the somewhat more complicated starting situation and I hope I didn’t rush it too much, I thought if you didn’t enjoy your life on earth you would adjust pretty well, but I don’t know :) If you wanna be on my Taglist let me know!
Leave me some feedback your sweet replies always motivate me to finally get my ass up and write ahaha and thank you for the likes and reblogs in advance!! Love you all xx
Tags: @eywas-heir @brooklynscherry-z @liyahsocorro @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed
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─── 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑
+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 6k | content: mostly fluff, some angst, rin is so awkward, childhood friends to lovers
notes: my first time writing something for rin so i’m nervous but i hope you guys like it <3 pls i hope i didn’t butcher him >_< rbs & feedback appreciated muwah !
summary: rin thinks about you all the time, for better or for worse. problem is, he really shouldn’t be anymore. things never seem to work out for the both of you, will trying even make a difference this time?
rin knows you don’t like flowers. no wait, you like them, you just don’t like receiving them. you cried once, when the flower he plucked for you died within a few days in your makeshift vase.
rin also knows that while other girls dream of their dream wedding, you dream of a nice cosy house, a modern one with touches of japanese accents. he likes to hear you talk about it. he likes to hear you talk about anything at all, actually.
he’s known you ever since you were both little, since you were both five and just two kids in the playground playing hide and seek.
rin would always win, because you’re as clumsy as it gets and you’re not that observant. you could never find him, even if he’s right there. he likes it though; seeing you look for him, that little panicky look in your eyes when you think he’d ever actually abandon you and run off.
he played with you whenever he could—you were both neighbours after all. it was fun, being with you was fun.
you reminded him of new beginnings, like how it feels like jumping into a pool after a long hard day of training, or how the sun feels like hitting your skin on a cold winter day.
it was second nature for him—to seek you out whenever he had a hard time, to look for you when he needed a distraction, to search for you in the crowd to seek some familiarity.
but it’s easy for flimsy things to break. the both of you were just kids, and kids did childish things, like think only for the moment and not further into the future, did silly things like saying you’d marry one another with fake paper rings and forget it the very next day (rin remembers). kids also handle things in a bad way, in the way that leaves no room for the friend they pushed away.
if rin regrets anything from his past, it’s that he took sae’s departure out on you.
rin doesn’t know how to process things well. can’t decide why exactly he’s so pressed about sae’s choice of words. doesn’t know what to make of why he even plays soccer. is it just because of his brother?
he doesn’t fucking know.
rin’s sorry.
it isn’t your fault his brother found a different path. you had nothing to do with it. you and those brownies you cooked for him. he’s sorry that he let them fall to the ground and just stormed off.
that was what, three or four years ago? you’d moved out by then, and the both of you had never spoken since.
if he’s being honest, he misses your presence. maybe it’s the fact that you were his manifestation of a safety net, someone that he could fall back on, someone he could lean on.
maybe he’s just being an asshole.
now he’s seventeen and probably even more of an asshole. if anything, sae’s departure left a bitter taste in his mouth that he wasn’t able to cleanse.
but he’s lucky you’re you. you’re you and that means you don’t hold grudges and you’re still the kindest person he’s ever known.
“rin?”
he stops his hand in mid motion, the key between his fingers dropping onto the wooden floorboards below. rin can’t seem to function anymore—he knows that voice. all too well.
it’s the voice that made him excited as a kid, it’s the same voice that comforted him whenever he fell short of perfect, the same voice that haunts his dreams sometimes at night, even now.
rin turns around and sees you there, at his front porch, smiling all awkwardly and chuckling nervously, your hands in your pocket because you never know what to do with them when you’re uncomfortable.
“hi,” is all he manages to choke out because he’s still a little stunned and his key is long lost and forgotten on the ground.
“hey stranger,” you grin, and his heart beats faster and faster as you get closer and closer.
the both of you are no longer kids, and it’s so painfully obvious now in front of him. he can’t stop fucking staring even if his inner voice is screaming at him to.
“i thought you moved away,” rin manages to say, and because he’s really curious as to why you’re even here, in this place you’re not supposed to be, talking to someone you haven’t spoken to in years.
“i’m, uh, here just to visit my family,” you stutter out, and rin wants to call you out on it so bad, but he can’t do that without exposing himself.
how could he possibly tell you that he knows none of your family is left here in the neighbourhood because he’s asked everyone who used to be in contact with your family? how can he possibly say that without exposing himself for going through your social profiles just to find out that you’ve moved out to another city with your entire family?
so, what are you here for then?
“hey, you wanna, uh, go eat dinner together? or something? later?” you’re so awkward rin could die. rin’s so awkward he could just kill himself.
the silence is deafening and it’s not that he doesn’t want to have dinner with you, it’s just that he has soccer training in the evening and he’s still in shock from the fact that you’re here in the flesh and—
“it’s okay, forget i asked, i was just—”
“no, i mean,” rin trips over his own words and the two of you are just two stupid idiots standing on the itoshi family’s porch doing stupid idiot things. he takes a deep breath, “where should we eat?”
that smile you shoot him is deadly and he wants to keep it forever. if that’s even possible. but he’s really awkward with his feelings and he doesn’t even know what he feels for you. all he knows is that he wants you to stay here again, be within reach for him.
“pick me up at six on your bike?” you nod over to his bicycle, and he blushes so hard because despite getting countless valentines from other girls, none of them have the same effect on him as you do.
rin thinks he should shake his head and say no and pretend like you don’t exist again. he shouldn’t go on this pseudo date with you.
yet he does. he picks you up where you said you’d be, at a hotel near the heart of the city. he’s on his bicycle, just like you asked of him, and you definitely dressed for the ride, comfortable in shorts and a tank top. you’ve gotten from cute to so so pretty and rin finds it so damn difficult to tear his eyes away from you.
when you get on the back of his bicycle, you put your hands around his waist and he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating. rin’s is too, but he’s grateful you probably can’t tell.
also at your request, he takes you to a spot he chose—which is nothing extravagant because you’re both still broke students who haven’t earned your own money, but he thinks you’ll like it anyway.
after getting some cup noodles from a nearby convenience store, he pedals over to the playground the both of you used to spend ages at when you were kids. the place where you used to play hide and seek with each other.
it’s a place of significance. at least, to him. he wonders if you even remember this place.
“nice choice, itoshi rin,” you say, and rin has his answer. “i missed this place.”
and rin missed you, but he isn’t going to say that.
“i’m surprised you remember,” he tells you, choosing to sit down on the swings. you follow and sit on the only other one beside him, your cup noodle hot and ready in your hands. “how’s kyushu?”
you slurp up some of your noodles, and rin thinks you look beautiful just like this anyway. “it’s okay, made some friends so that makes it more tolerable.” you’re shrugging like it’s no big deal, but he can tell by the faraway look in your eyes that there’s more to it.
“tokyo’s better, huh?” he isn’t much for small talk, but he can’t help himself—it’s been far too long without you, and he wants to feel close to you again. it’s as though after everything that happened—sae moving abroad, you moving away, rin feeling lost—it’s like he doesn’t really know how to be your friend anymore.
nodding your head, you turn to him. “much better.”
and rin can’t help but think that there’s a deeper meaning to your answer. but he doesn’t press.
maybe he should’ve, because when you switch the topic, he finds he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.
“anyway, i’m only here for a day,” you tell him, going back to your noodles. “i fly back tomorrow.”
some part of him wants to ask you why you’re even here. he wants to know about the you now, about how much has changed in these few years, what you like now—do you still like hot chocolate in the winter, do you still get colds easily, do you still think about him after all this time?
“are you… going to come back for college?” because if you still wanted to go to university in tokyo, you’d have to move back here. rin thinks he’d like that.
you’re a little taken aback because from what you’d heard from your old friends, rin had become someone they barely recognised; cold, blunt, more like his brother than himself. but in front of you now, you feel like the rin you know is still in there.
but this is where it gets hard.
“actually…” you trail off because you don’t really know where to start. “i got into a university in america. my mother got a job there and she wants me to go with her.”
you don’t even want to look at him right now. you don’t really know what you want to see. some silly part of you wants to see that he minds, that he’ll make a big deal out of you going away somewhere even further than the other side of japan. but if he doesn’t, if he looks like it doesn’t affect him at all, then you don’t think you can handle that.
“oh.” ever the best at giving a non-response, you’re not surprised.
it’s silent for a while, and the two of you are just eating your noodles, and it’s so suffocating that you want to bolt and run but that means you probably won’t ever get to see rin again and you don’t want that.
your body is screaming at you to do something, to say anything, to savour whatever time you have left with rin now properly—but you can’t.
beside you, the gears are turning in his head. rin’s noodles are already gone and he isn’t even aware his chopsticks are grappling around for nothing but soup.
america? that’ll mean you’re at least twelve hours away and he can’t even imagine what that’ll mean for your friendship. or whatever the fuck this muddy waters is.
rin wants to say something, anything—but what? don’t go? when are you coming back? are we ever going to be at the same place at the same time again after tonight?
he’s conflicted between his possible feelings and his selfishness. so he resigns to not saying anything at all. all that’s left for the night is hearing the wind blowing past your faces and the creaking of the swings, very much like how he envisioned a bad goodbye to go.
that night he gives you a ride back to your hotel despite your insistence that it’s late. because who do you take him for? did it mean nothing to you that this might be the last time?
“so, uh, i’ll see you around, i guess,” you say as you step off of his bicycle, after a trip that seems way too fast. rin already misses the sensation of your arms around his waist.
he thinks it’s a stupid sentence. realistically, in every single way he can think it’ll play out, it ends with the both of you drifting apart anyway, and he finds himself wishing you never came back.
which is untrue. which is the furthest it could possibly be from the truth. but rin doesn’t want to think about that right now.
“okay then, goodbye,” rin decides, because he’s not about to get his own hopes up for nothing. if you’re about to vanish, then maybe it’s high time he gets it done.
rin steps on the pedal, but then you stop him, voice clear as the first day he met you. “rin, wait!”
you’re not sure why it slipped out, but it did.
“what is it?”
his eyes are cool, calm, a dead teal that stares right through you. you’re almost intimidated because you’re not sure just what he’s thinking of you right now. he must think you’re a freak, showing up like this and dropping a bomb that he may or may not care about.
“um, nothing, it’s just- is there anything else?”
some part of you wants him to ask you to stay in tokyo. maybe the both of you could find a university together and stay in close proximity, just like when you were kids, just like how you liked it.
just like everything you missed.
and now the two of you are staring at each other, knowing yet not knowing everything that’s going through one another’s mind. but it gets lost in translation because neither of you can find the words to say.
rin blinks at you, and you can’t even read him if you tried. “no, nothing. is there something you wanna say?”
you shake your head, smiling through it. “no, nothing. goodbye.”
you’re back through the hotel double doors before you know it, and rin’s left to watch your silhouette fade away.
for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s lost something precious that he’ll never find again.
life goes on.
rin graduates from high school and so do you. the texting stopped, and that much he expected. better to cut the cord sooner rather than later, even if rin wished for otherwise.
he rides on a full scholarship to university, and from the online grapevines, he hears that you’re doing the same. you’re smart, so he’s not surprised.
this is the right thing to do; both of you have your own lives to concentrate on. some stupid crush doesn’t matter. and yes, rin has already conceded to the feeling because he can’t explain this any other way.
his frustration that comes from your separation, his anger when it comes to being helpless, his endless regret from not saying anything that night—it’s only because he wants you.
“i hear y/n’s doing good at her new school,” rin hears his mom cooing from the kitchen. he sighs. of course she did, yours and his moms are both close. yet another channel through which he can get updates on you, warranted or not.
“yeah?” he pretends not to care much, but he’s hanging on her every word.
“yeah, it’s valentines’ day around the corner too, i hear she has lots of guys lining up.”
kill him. kill him right fucking now.
“good for her.” good for you he’s not there to stare daggers at all the guys ogling at you. good for you he’s not there to commit bloody murder.
“i think so too, ah she’s all grown up,” his mother chatters on, completely oblivious to the torment she’s subjecting her son to. “i hear she’s having her first date next week, i heard he’s a model too, did she talk to you about it?”
you must’ve played it off to your mother that you and rin are fine. rin sighs, tired of the thoughts running through his head. as if soccer wasn’t tiring enough already.
“don’t know, maybe.”
just like his feelings for you, and his willingness to act on it.
two years into university and it isn’t that hard for him anymore.
actual lectures and assignments take up half of his time, and the other half is reserved for soccer. with teammates like isagi yoichi and bachira meguru annoying him even outside of practice, rin doesn’t even have much time to think of you.
until he’s forced to.
“what about you, rin? is there anyone special in your life?”
bachira tuts, “isagi, he’s always buried in books and practicing soccer, it’s obviously a no.”
rin’s annoyed, half because what bachira said is true and half because isagi made him think of you. it’s been a while since he knew what was up with you. you’re probably doing well, probably thriving in that environment, probably all in love with your boyfriend—that stupid yukimiya kenyu that you accepted for valentine’s last year.
he carefully extracts himself from isagi and bachira’s bickering, feigning that he’s looking through the aisle for books except what he’s really doing is scrolling through his phone and hunting for your profile.
what other way is he supposed to get updates? definitely not from you, because you’ve been so fucking radio silent since that night.
all that rin sees that day is a story posted to your account. just a backdrop of the view in your city with the words some things just aren’t meant to be.
you’re right. some things aren’t. including the both of you. so rin tucks his phone away in his pocket and goes about his day, half happy that it sounds like you’re not with yukimiya anymore, half concerned that this is what the both of you became.
somehow he’s here. he’s right fucking here and it’s him this time that’s going to surprise you. unintentionally. or intentionally, if you argued that he agreed to come in the first place.
“isn’t this place so beautiful?” his mother’s words are lost on him. he’s too busy thinking of you.
his mother’s here to visit your mother and by extension he guesses you’ll be there. it’s supposedly the summer break anyway.
and you really are there, on your front porch this time, freezing up when you catch sight of rin walking up your driveway.
nothing can describe his relief when you actually walk up to him and talk to him, because a part of him was expecting you to slap him for some reason.
“still watching horror movies for fun?” you ask him when you’re finally alone together, away from the ruckus of both your moms.
you missed him, he and his teal eyes and his absurdly longer fringe and his awkward demeanour. he’s a long shot from the person you knew as a kid. he’s taller, more muscles, more stoic, handsome. you were too shy to look at him properly that night in tokyo, but you can now.
“i don’t really have time for fun.” rin turns away, a little horrified you remember as much about him as you do. you’d been asking him things you remember from back when you guys were five. “how’re things here?”
you hum in contemplation, like you’re considering your words, and rin looks at you this time, admiring the way you look in the sunlight, the smile stuck onto your face, the voice that he’d never get tired of.
“it’s fine, school’s great, boyfriend’s great, everything’s… great.”
boyfriend?
“that yukimiya guy?”
fuck. fuck fuck fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. fuck. you’re gonna know he stalked you. he doesn’t even fucking follow you, he has no good excuse for knowing that.
you blink once, twice, confused and then getting bashful from the realisation. “um, yeah. things were rocky at first and then it got better so…”
rin is internally strangling himself. he needs to stop having thoughts about a taken girl. he needs to stop wondering what you taste like, what you look like in the mornings when you just wake up, what you’d sound like when you’re sleepy.
“that’s… good.”
the two of you are awkward to bits and he wishes he was someone different right now.
the day ends with nothing substantial. rin couldn’t talk much after he hears you’re still with yukimiya. you couldn’t even stay much because you had plans with him anyway. who’s he to stand in your way? rin’s just an old friend from the past. that’s all. there’s nothing more.
that’s what he thinks. until that same night when he’s all packed and ready to go for the next afternoon’s flight. all because you called him out of the blue. he’s amazed you still have his number.
“hey, rin.”
from the first moment you opened your mouth, he can tell you’re crying. shit, why are you crying?
“are you okay?” because you’re probably the only person in the world who can tug on his heartstrings like this. for being the only person in this world he has feelings for.
you’re forcing a laugh, like you’re not sure what to say. rin doesn’t really know either.
“am i not worth anything?” your question takes him off guard.
doesn’t take a genius to know something probably happened between you and yukimiya. and it doesn’t take much for you to get rin bolting out the door.
“where are you?”
“home,” you sniffle, and you must hear him getting into a cab, “i’m fine, you don’t have to come—”
“i’m coming,” he tells you, firmly, and he can almost tell you’re smiling from the other side of the line.
rin’s heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. he’s not sure why, but he’s ached to get closer to you since forever, and he passed it up the last time, the previous time you met in tokyo.
his heart’s still racing when you let him into the house, when it’s all dark and unfamiliar and you’re so close to him he can smell the shampoo off your hair.
apparently yukimiya never got over his first love, and you’d caught him locked in a kiss with her right before your dinner.
he’s not good with these situations. at comforting people, at being so close to the girl he likes that he’s trying his very best not to fucking kiss her right now. how does he tell you that you’re good enough, right now, when you keep rambling on and on about how you think you’re not? he really wants to shut you up but he can only think of kissing you and maybe that’s not a can of worms you want to open right now.
besides, if he does that, you might look at him as something temporary, a crutch you need right now but not for the long run and call him crazy but if he’s going to try this much for you, he doesn’t want to be the rebound.
but god fucking damn it, he’ll kill himself if he chickens out now.
you fall asleep after crying your guts out, and rin’s barely said ten words to you all night. he carries you to your room, puts you down on your bed and he resists placing a kiss on your forehead even if you won’t know it.
there’s no time left here for him, he’ll have to go back home tomorrow afternoon and you’ll be worlds apart once again. tonight may have been just a fluke; you probably just needed someone and rin was a safe bet.
he writes something down on a rough paper sitting on your desk and leaves it there before he goes. it’s irritating, how much you’re making him think, how much you’re making him flip flop between various moods.
one moment he decides to leave you alone and the next moment he doesn’t want to leave your side. there’s just something about seeing you so heartbroken that he can’t forgive.
and how kind the world is, to serve the guy who broke your heart to rin in a silver platter. he’d recognise that hair and those glasses anywhere—yukimiya kenyu.
“who’re you?”
rin doesn’t respond, only pushes him away. “if you know what’s good for you, leave.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i know what you did to y/n.”
yukimiya sighs, “look that’s what i wanted to talk to y/n about. i wanted to do this properly, to talk it out with her properly but then my ex was the one who—”
“shut the fuck up, i don’t care.”
yukimiya looks like he wants to retaliate, like he wants to argue back, and it would’ve probably turned into an all-out brawl if your mother didn’t rush out of the house at just the right time.
rin doesn’t bother with anything else after that. he leaves even though your mother tells him he can stay. frankly, he’s not sure he can stand being in the same room as yukimiya without giving him a punch.
the next morning comes and you haven’t left any messages. rin’s already back in japan for a while when you decide you’re finally ready to call him. but he’s heartbroken from thinking he was stupid to leave you that note so he rarely pays attention to his phone.
you end up having to leave it on his voicemail instead.
you said to call you if i wanted to try and… i do.
whatever yukimiya had come to say to you that night, it probably didn’t work, because rin does hear your voicemail. he hears your voice saying that you want to try, with him, and he thinks he may have been dreaming for a while.
but then he plays it over and over and over again.
he’s a few years late, but better late than never, he thinks.
you have two more years before you get your degree, and rin’s not about to get in between that. what he does do is pay you a visit from time to time because he hates this goddamn physical distance between the both of you.
it starts with the both of you talking to each other over the phone, the painfully awkward conversations turning more and more bearable. after a while, you’re the one getting him out of his shell, purposely teasing him all the time, getting reactions out of him.
he stays over at your apartment near school whenever he visits. you share the same bed for the first time and somehow it’s not uncomfortable. he lays beside you like he’s meant to be there. and you fall asleep so fast whenever he’s there, like he’s your damn lullaby.
distance starts to feel like nothing for the both of you, because it never wanes your feelings. even when he’s in japan and you’re halfway across the world, it doesn’t feel like you’re very far.
besides, he likes how it is—you chase your dreams, he chases his. the future can wait. the uncertainties can come later.
they come faster than he bargained for.
you’re nearing graduation while he’s nearing the end of his current contract term with a japanese club, but you’ve scored a job with one of the hottest startups in america. which means you’re going to be there.
for a long while.
“take it,” rin tells you, because you’ve called him to tell him this because you don’t know if you want to. but he can tell, like he always can when it comes to you. you want to take it, and he’s the only factor that’s stopping you. because before now, you’ve been thinking of coming back to tokyo and working at one of the bigger firms here.
looks like that plan’s not going to pan out though, because rin will kill himself before he becomes the reason that you’re not being the best version of yourself.
“but that means…”
there you go, hesitating again.
“we’ll figure it out. we did it once before, we’ll do it again.”
you chuckle in relief because somehow, itoshi rin has become your rock. he went from being some stoic and inexpressive human to being your voice of reason.
“you’re right, you’re right,” you concede. because yes, he’s always right somehow.
so you accept the offer, signing yourself away for another five years.
“what does that mean for the both of you though?”
you sigh. you’re not sure. rin hasn’t said much beyond what he did during that phone call nearly a year back, and he hasn’t come to visit for a few months now so you can’t really tell what’s going on in his head.
long distance sucks.
“i don’t know, mom,” you confess, “i don’t want this to be the end. but i can’t see a future where the both of us are always in different countries.”
your mother doesn’t say anything much after that, it’s not like she has any personal experience on the matter.
you think about it all throughout your finals period, all throughout your graduation transition. you’re not sure that you and rin can just make it through this by just winging it like how you’d always been. and you think maybe rin is just full of it, maybe he’s just as much in denial about this as you are. he hasn’t even been texting you as much nowadays, not after the news.
your phone vibrates on your table as you’re idly staring out the window. it’s a week to graduation.
a text from rin.
meet me after your ceremony next week, we need to talk.
and the anxiety kicks in.
rin shows up at your graduation ceremony like he said he would. he dresses up nicely, white dress shirt and black pants—simple, classy, handsome. you can spot him even from where you are, up near the stage.
yeah, you’d been nervous ever since he sent you that text.
it didn’t help that he didn’t talk to you much up until today, when his flight landed and he’d told you about it even though he knows you have his flight details in your handy little app.
when you run over to him after the ceremony, you find quite a funny sight before your eyes. never in your life did you think you’d ever see rin looking sharp as ever in a white shirt and pants only to be carrying what looks like a bouquet of—not flowers but—nuggets on sticks and chocolate.
rin smiles sheepishly when you get to him. “you don’t want flowers right?”
yeah, you’re in love with him. dorky, stupid rin with his abstract ways of showing love. you love how he remembers details like this since way back when you were kids. you love his awkwardness and his acts of service. you love him and everything he has and all that he doesn’t.
“thanks, i love it,” you gush, taking the bouquet from him, accepting your parents’ offer to help take a picture of the both of you.
they take a ton of pictures.
in one of them, rin kisses your temple and you think you might melt. in another, you kiss his cheeks in return and he’s a deep shade of red. those are before the last picture where he turns you to face him and presses a kiss on your lips, earning a few whistles from the people around you.
you punch him playfully on the chest for that. you hear him chuckle and that might be your favorite sound ever.
rin surprises you too, because the next thing you know, he’s dragging you along with him, running to his car parked by the curb; you’re wondering how he even had the time to rent it.
“where are we going?”
your gown is long discarded into the back seats and rin only offers you a smirk in return. he’s not telling, and you roll your eyes and let it be.
whatever it is, you’re excited.
maybe it’s the fact that you had been thinking the worst up until this point. or maybe it’s the fact that he has his hand on your bare thigh. hell, it could even just be the fact that you’re sitting in a car with the prettiest guy you’ve ever met. but your heart is beating out of your chest and for the first time, you feel like this can be nothing but good news.
rin proves you right, because he takes you somewhere unfamiliar and then tells you why exactly he’s been distant the past week. he takes your hand and leads you through the front doors of what he now calls “our house”.
everything you’ve ever told him you wanted in your dream house; wooden overheads, small koi pond out back, a beautiful rooftop garden with a wooden porch swing.
everything.
he made it real. he made your dream house without you asking. he’s telling you he’ll move here if that’s what it takes to be with you. he tells you he loves you more than he can ever imagine loving anything else at all. he says that he’ll always be with you, and this time he doesn’t want to be apart to do it.
he asks you, “will you try to make it work with me?”
as if he even needs to.
if anyone asked you back then if you thought rin was capable of any of this, you’d say no. because the boy you knew at five is passive, quiet, not the kind to make declarations like these.
yet here he is, almost twenty years later, promising to put you first and make this last because he’s sure this is what he wants.
“itoshi rin,” you slowly call his name, roping your arms around his shoulder while the both of you look at each other and only each other as you stand on the staircase landing. “what would you have done if i said no?”
because this is all extravagant—rin put his everything into this. dug up all the memories of your dream house, ran himself haggard just to get all of this done on time, and who knows what else because he kept all of this from you?
rin has a straight face, beautiful teal eyes rolling to the side as he contemplates. “guess that was never an option in my head.”
“you’re so stupid,” you tease, pressing a kiss onto his soft lips and relishing in the fact that this is just the first kiss of many to come.
because he’s now here. here with you. and he’s here to stay.
“guess that’s why i need you around to take care of me,” rin teases back, biting his lower lip and smirking at you.
you jump up and he catches you, your legs crossed behind his back as he carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the countertop.
“so, itoshi rin,” you say again, suppressing a grin. “does that mean you’re gonna make me your wife one day?”
rin sighs and rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “okay, trouble, dial back a bit now. one step at a time.”
he’s lying through his teeth, a ring passed down through his family for generations already nestled neatly in the hidden compartment of the nightstand in the bedroom. he’s lying—but you don’t need to know that. not yet.
you’re all trouble, and all beautiful and all his and rin is going to marry you someday.
because he may be dumb in a lot of ways, may be a little awkward and terrible in most situations and not the friendliest guy out there. but somehow you chose him and you always did and you always will so he’s not going to let you regret that decision.
so before you can make a comeback and expose him for really wanting to marry you, he kisses you to shut you up, and you know anyway.
because you’ve known rin since you were five, playing hide and seek in the playground. you never won because you could never find him. but you think now you have; you’ve found him and he’s not going anywhere. not anymore.
“i’m never gonna let you leave me, itoshi rin.”
he chuckles, “i’m all yours, trouble.”
#bllk x reader#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#blue lock x reader#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin fluff#blue lock fluff#itoshi rin x you#rin x you#rin x y/n#itoshi rin x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x y/n#૪ aeri’s fics !
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