#the man really is a ray of fucking happiness and light
Text
Currently re-reading Franny and Zooey and I can't stop thinking about this quote and how Pedro coded it is.
He brings the sun wherever he goes.
If anyone needs me, I'll be thinking about this for the rest of eternity.
#pedro pascal#the man really is a ray of fucking happiness and light#how lucky are we#pedrohub#pedro pascal bookreads#franny and zooey#it's also one of his favorite books
18 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey hope your doing well! Could I request Price with a really shy civilian reader?
Ohhh so I am going to cheat a little here and actually expand a little small AU I did before for this, I hope you don't mind soulmate AUs! (If you do you shall need to get your butt back into the ole inbox and I shall do something else) <3
You did not want to die. You especially did not want to die because of a bloody maniac seeing fit to blow up the building that you worked in.
You could barely breathe with all the smoke and debris in the air, but at least the floor hadn't collapsed yet. Couldn't be long though, you could hear the building letting out great sighs as if struggling to stay upright. If it came down, you were toast. You took a breath and rubbed a hand to the raised words on your collarbone to steady yourself. Old habit. Your words had been there since you were born, the handwriting so bad that everyone assumed you must have a doctor for a soulmate.
You broken love?
The only saving grace of this was that the office had actually been closed due to the aircon being busted. Of course, you had to have left your bloody laptop charger and had to have chosen to go get it when there was a terrorist attack, of course. Not much for it but to start crawling in what you were sure was the direction of the door to the stairwell.
It was a struggle, you were pretty sure in the initial blast your whole left side had been thoroughly fucked up so you had to pull yourself along on your right side, but you made it to the stairwell.
You took a breather and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to steel yourself for continuing on down the stairs. Wait, there were people coming up the way. That was very much the wrong way to be going.
One of them bit out a curse and leaned over you. All you could think about in your state was how kind his eyes looked.
"Wasn't told there was anyone else left in the building Captain" one of the men said to the one leaning over you.
"You broken love?"
Oh. Oh.
"I'd probably be ok calling you Captain in bed."
The other men were howling with laughter, but you were mostly out of it now with pain and the rush of endorphins that came from those words on your collarbone finally settling fully into your skin.
"We can discuss that later sweetheart, let's get you out of here."
-
God you were a pretty thing weren't you? Had passed out the moment he had lifted you in his arms, like you had known that moment you were safe. You'd always be safe with him, after all he had fought his way to become a Captain to find you, the words wrapped around his left forearm always pushing him forward.
His boys were happy for him he knew, Ghost already taking over the rest of the op to allow him to be here for you when you woke up. They had already killed or captured most of the terrorist ring, the building sweep was just clean up.
The paramedics said you weren't in any immediate danger, pretty bashed up though. Suspected break on your left arm, suspected fracture on the leg, some light burning on your face and neck. Price went with you in the ambulance to the hospital, holding your hand as you dipped in and out of consciousness and babbled away nonsense at him. Even when you had gotten the x-rays you were loopy as hell, the doctors said it was stress, exhaustion and pain, prescribing a heavy dose of painkillers and a good night's sleep.
When you eventually woke up properly, you were warm and cosy in a bed. You felt awful. You looked down to find your arm in a cast and your leg in a splint. You were also... Well, clean. And wearing clothes that were definitely not yours.
"Morning love."
You squeaked and dragged the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose, peeking over to see an incredibly handsome man standing by the door of what was not your bedroom. Wait did you know him? It felt like you did. What on earth had happened?
He laughed and it was the most gorgeous sound you had ever heard which made the tips of your ears burn and your heart race.
"You broken love?"
Wait those were your... only when you shifted to touch your words they were already settled into your skin. He had said them to you before. That's why you knew him. He said them when he had found you in your building, when you thought you had been dying. And you had said...
You would quite have liked for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but you settled for pulling the blankets all the way over your head and hiding in the hopes he would never look at you again. You could not believe your first words to your soulmate had been about calling him Captain in bed. You were mortified. You would never in a million years have said something like that if you hadn't been delirious from the shock.
You heard his footsteps and the crinkling of his clothes as he crouched next to the bed, the feeling of a warm hand landing on your head over the blanket.
"Don't tell me you're embarassed now love, I've not even told you about what you were saying when I was trying to give you a bath" he laughed.
Jail, jail for this man. You would fix this by simply never emerging from this cocoon again. This was your home now. Even if he was petting at your head and you knew it would feel so much better without the duvet between your hair and his hand. Oh God the thought made you snake your good hand out of the safety of the blankets to snatch a pillow back inside and scream into it.
John Price thought you were adorable. He knew you were shy, you had babbled to him about it last night while he was gently trying to keep your cast out of the water in the bath. It had been you that stripped off and him trying desperately to slow you down, knowing you were off your head on pain meds. But you wanted a bath and he couldn't let you do that on your own in the state you had been in.
You'd told him all about yourself in broken jumbles of words. Your name (he had immediately tested in on his tongue and found it fit there), your favourite colour (he'd paint the walls on Monday), how it was so nice to be able to talk to him because usually you would be way too shy and he was so handsome and kissable (he was more than willing to prove you absolutely correct about him being kissable when you were sober minded).
You hadn't been kidding about being shy. He liked that more than he thought he would, that his soulmate was this sweet, soft thing who was so flustered over so small a flirtation. Oh he couldn't wait to see all the ways he could made colour deepen your skin, find all the words that would have you squeaking and trying to hide away.
"Sorry for teasing, couldn't help myself. Will you come out please? Let me see that pretty soulmate of mine?" he said with the gentle affection of a man finally content in life.
He coaxed you out like one might do a nervous kitten, no sudden movements, light sounds of encouragement. And when you finally looked at him your hand moved to your collarbone out of habit to trace your words, although you winced in pain when you bumped the cast.
"Try not to move it too much love, we can do some exercises to keep your mobility up after breakfast."
You nodded, still looking up at him with those big nervous eyes. He smiled at you and pushed up his sleeve, laying his forearm on the bed and letting you see the words there.
"They're yours, you know. I'm yours" he said, like the concept came as easy to him as breathing.
And as you gingerly reached out with your good hand to trace the words, you couldn't help but whisper the word mine before taking his hand and pressing it to your collarbone.
"Yours."
#mhairianswers#mhairiwrites#price x reader#john price x reader#soulmate au#Price is going to torment his love so much#Always flirting outrageously just because he likes how you have to scream into your hands about it#what a cutie of a war criminal
320 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your writing! Could you write something about birthday sex between Leon and reader where she dresses up for him?
LEON DOESNT HAVE A CANON BIRTHDAY WTF?? This man can’t have anything huh? Smh Thank you sm!! And I love this request omg
Leon Kennedy x Reader
Warnings: nsfw, afab!reader, lingerie, light spanking at the end
For the first time in years, Leon was home for his birthday. Finally you two could celebrate on the actual day instead of days or weeks later. So you wanted to make it special.
You woke up early and made him breakfast in bed, which of course didn’t work seeing as how he can sense the moment you leave the bed. So instead you both had pancakes while cuddled on the couch, and he said it was just as perfect.
The majority of the day was spent lazing around, watching movies he’s been wanting to watch or catching up on shows you wait for him to watch. It’s simple but something you know he cherishes so much.
You did, however, book a reservation at a nice restaurant for dinner. The two of you driving there on his motorcycle despite you wearing his favorite little black dress.
The food was delicious and when dessert came out you sang him happy birthday embarrassingly loud, making him blush and cover his face.
Everything had been perfect, and now you couldn’t wait for him to see his gift, or more specifically, you couldn’t wait for him to unwrap it.
“Thank you for today baby, it was perfect.” Leon mumbled against your lips as he walked you back into your shared bedroom.
“It’s not over yet.” You smirked, turning the both of you around and gently pushing him onto the bed.
His eyes widened a little before a cocky, self satisfied smirk settled on his lips, “Oh really now?”
“Mhmm.” Nodding, you stood between his legs and grabbed his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “You still have to unwrap your present.”
“You’re right, beautiful.” He whispered, pulling you a little closer and sliding his hands up your dress, “Can’t believe I almost forgot-“
Leon’s voice catches in his throat and you watch with a smirk as he stars at his hand under your dress like he has x-ray vision. You open your mouth to say something teasing, when suddenly you have a face full of your hair and black fabric.
“Fucking hell babygirl.” Leon moans, finally pulling the dress completely off you before sitting back and just staring.
You blush as you straighten your hair out, standing there in a black lace lingerie bodysuit and black thigh high stockings.
“You like it?” You ask after a moment of him just quietly staring at you. He hasn’t made a move to touch after ripping the dress off, instead just sitting there slack jawed.
“Are those buttons on the crotch?” He asked instead of answering your question.
You huffed but answered anyway, “Yes, I thought you might like to fuck me in it.”
“You thought right baby.” He muttered as he reached out and yanked you into his lap, “Fuck you’re perfect, I love you so much.”
Giggling at the praise you wiggle your hips a little making him groan, you can feel how hard he is already, “I love you too, Happy Birthday Leon.”
He smirked up at you before giving your ass a playful smack, “Happy Birthday to me indeed.”
This got away from me holy shit uhhh I hope it’s what you wanted anon!!!
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon re4#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy fanfic#leon re2#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x you#resident evil#resident evil x reader
532 notes
·
View notes
Text
"passenger princess" | chapter six
the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana
❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader
❱ wordcount: 4,9k
❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up
❱ warnings: mature language
❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭
general m.list + series m.list
🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3
CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE
It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.
It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.
While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.
They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.
Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.
Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.
Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.
Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.
You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.
He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.
You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.
Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.
The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.
He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.
"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."
"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"
"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"
"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"
It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.
"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"
No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.
Love could really change a person.
"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"
"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.
"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."
"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."
"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.
Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.
Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.
"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"
The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.
Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.
It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.
After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.
Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.
"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."
"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.
You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."
"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."
"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.
It had been exactly like that.
"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).
Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.
Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.
Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.
You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.
"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.
"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."
Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."
"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"
"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.
You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.
"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"
"But–"
"No no, no buts."
"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."
You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.
Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.
Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.
"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.
It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.
"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."
"I hate you so much."
As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.
So unfair they had fun while you suffered.
The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.
There were creaks and echoes everywhere.
Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.
It came out of nowhere.
The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.
It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.
There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.
"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.
"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.
"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."
"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.
He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.
You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.
"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.
"Yes?"
"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:
"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."
"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."
Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.
You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"
"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.
"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."
You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"
Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.
"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.
Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.
"Legolas, since when?"
"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.
"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"
"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.
"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:
"Y'know my mother left him, right?"
As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"
"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."
You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.
"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."
The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.
"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"
Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."
You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.
"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.
"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."
"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."
"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."
While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.
Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.
He could've simply had a bad day at work.
"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.
Under the blankets, you were wired.
You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.
Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?
As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.
The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.
"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.
The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.
He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.
"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"
"Stay?"
The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.
"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."
You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.
He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.
For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.
He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.
Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.
"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"
The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.
"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.
"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.
Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.
He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.
"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.
It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.
"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.
"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."
The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.
Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.
"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."
"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.
"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."
"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."
"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.
He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.
"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.
"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."
There was a pause as the words sunk in.
Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.
The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.
"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."
You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."
"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."
Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.
The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"
He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."
"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.
"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.
A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."
"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.
"Mhm, must be the age."
Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."
If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.
Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.
"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."
Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.
"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."
"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?
You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.
There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.
It was so weird, your lips curled.
Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.
"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"
"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.
Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.
You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.
"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"
"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.
"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."
taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax
#📁files: passenger princess#thranduil x reader#lotr x reader#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x you#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit x reader#lord of the rings fanfiction#king thranduil#thranduil#thranduil oropherion
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
Snow Flower | kth (m)
pairing ↠ himbo!taehyung x reader (f. reader)
genre ↠ college!au; holiday!au; smut; humor; fluff; strangers to almost lovers to idiots to lovers; one-shot.
summary ↠ after making some terrible memories together, Taehyung wants nothing more than to never see you again; and he was pretty much succeeding — until he finds himself having to spend Christmas alone with you in the middle of nowhere.
rating ↠ +18
warnings ↠ taehyung is bi y’all; alcohol consumption; sexual tension; taehyung is a menace but he’s also stupid; some religious jokes are made; some kink shaming (tae is lowkey offended by furry kink?? idek); minor accident; very minor parent issues (this is really in the background, but i was going through stuff and writing it helped); a bunch of Christmas movies talk; taehyung is scared of grinch lol (i'm serious 💀); second hand embarrassment; pov switch; explicit smut (the warnings are long as fuck, so beware).
smut warnings 👀↠ mentions of anal; masturbation; orgasm denial; orgasm control; a whole lot of teasing; edging; dirty talk; pet names; soft dom!taehyung; switch!reader; fingering; light pussy slapping; nipple play; oral (f. and m. receiving); choking on cock; tae has a huge dick ‘cus it’s christmas and we deserve it; unprotected sex (pls don't do it. this is unhinged fiction); praise kink; marking; biting; light spanking; a splash of degradation (he calls reader a slut once); reader has sensitive thighs; tae has stamina for days; so much begging; a bit of overstimulation 'cus taehyung is a man on a mission; multiple orgasms; squirting; creampie; cum eating; it’s rough but it’s also super silly; they joke during sex, it's ridiculous; aftercare.
teaser ↠ (wc:0.8k) read it before to make sure this is for you ♡
word count ↠ 22k (7.5k are just smut y'all, i went off 🥴)
estimated reading time ↠ 60 minutes
note ↠ just wanna come out and say that i listened to mistletoe an unhealthy amount of times to get into the mood to write this and i think i’m damaged for life. also, i know it’s march lol, but i went through some shit™️ while writing this and it took some time to get back on track. to be honest, i almost gave up on this fic at least once a week, and it was hard as fuck to finish it. i struggled a lot with the plot until i was actually satisfied, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
note² ↠ if this fic is finished, i have to thank @uarmymoonlight for lowkey bullying me into seeing this story through, always ready to motivate and help me brainstorm and fix plot points. you know i love you, and i hope you get a himbo to yourself one day. also wanna thank @vsualitae for being such a sweet listener, and for helping me through writer's block. you’re amazing, and i will cherish you forever, please don't give up on me because i'm terrible at replying.
note³ ↠ thank you again for @imakeamess for the amazing banner!
playlist ↠ this is what i think reader and tae’s playlist would look like
navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡
Jungkook suffering a car accident two days before Christmas was honestly so damn selfish of him.
It took five whole weeks of mature conversations (read: Jungkook calling Taehyung a pathetic little baby before resorting to messaging Taehyung’s mom) to convince Taehyung to go on this stupid Christmas trip to the middle of nowhere, only for Jungkook to think it’d be funny to drive his shit ass car straight against a light pole barely five minutes out of Soojin's dorm parking lot.
“You won’t be alone with her,” the asshole promised “Soojin and I will be there too”.
On top of that, Jungkook had the nerve to first go through a bunch of x-rays and cat scans before letting you and Taehyung — already settled in the shit chalet Soojin rented — know that him and Soojin would have to wait the 26th for the next bus to the hell hole that they mistook as a city, because no one in their right minds would willingly come here.
Well, of course Taehyung should’ve known that there was no way he could spend time in the same environment as you without wanting to kill himself: with or without Jungkook and Soojin, being reminded of your existence makes Taehyung feel nothing but nausea.
…
Ok, maybe he should rephrase that.
It’s not that he hates you, or anything. In fact, when Taehyung met you, hate was pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling. That night, in the frat’s living room, surrounded by dozens of other bodies as you danced to a song so loud he couldn’t even recognize, Taehyung swore you were the hottest, most sensual person he had ever seen.
It was one of the first times Taehyung went completely sober to a frat party, the only alcohol in his lips being the one he sucked straight out of your tongue. The choice of going teetotal had to do with the terrible lunch he made earlier that day that still rumbled in his stomach as he kissed down your chest (quick unrelated question: how much mayonnaise are you supposed to use in the pudding recipe to replace heavy whipping cream?).
Naturally, he couldn’t have thrown up before he went to the party — no, no, his stomach had to wait until you were straddling and grinding on him in one of the house’s empty bedrooms to push his excuse of a dessert out of his mouth.
Taehyung was pretty damn good at making up excuses to avoid people he slept with. But with you? He barely saw your tits and no fucking excuses were needed.
It took around two months for him to find his will to live again, and things started to go back to normal — until Jungkook started to date Soojin, that is. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung loves Soojin and how she makes Jungkook happy and all that bullshit, he just hates the fact that she also happens to be your roommate.
[10:36] taehyung: jungkook how could u
[10:37] taehyung: i can’t believe u right now, istg
[10:37] taehyung: u could’ve come by bus with me, but nooooo
[10:37] taehyung: u absolutely HAD to suffer a fucking accident now, didn’t u??
[10:38] taehyung: i’ll never leave this room
[10:38] taehyung: if i don't die of shame before u are arrive, u are dead to me
[typing] taehyung: btw F for u and all, hope your leg’s fine, i lov
A loud thud startles Taehyung, making him drop his phone on the bed.
He waits a second to make sure his heart is still beating before slowly getting up and leaving his room. He steps around some bags placed on the floor near your chosen bedroom to reach the open front door.
Taehyung first notices your car parked near the house with the trunk open, before his eyes descend to your sprawled form on the icy ground, your head snapping up when he calls your name with a confused frown.
“Oh. Hi, Taehyung.”
“Wait, that sound was you slipping? Shit, you ok? Can you get up?”
“Yeah!” You assure, before he can cross the threshold. “Yes, don’t worry.”
You shift on the ground, but as soon as you place your hands behind you for leverage, your face turns into a grimace.
“Fuck”.
“What?”
You don’t answer, instead trying to find different ways to get up while avoiding moving your left arm, and failing adorably every time as the thickness of your clothes restrains your movements.
“Ok, maybe I can’t get up.” You slump back, sighing.
He closes his coat and changes from his slippers quickly, sidestepping the frozen paths to make his way to you.
When Taehyung crouches by your side he is taken by a sudden urge to swallow his fist. As if the whole situation wasn’t already perfect, you simply had to become even prettier than the last time he saw you. Are you some kinda wine or something? Why the hell you gotta be so gorgeous for?
“Should I…” he starts “uhm, sorry, can I touch you?” Has his voice always been this high?
You nod, and Taehyung automatically starts to rub his hands together.
“What you doing?”
“My hands are cold.”
“I’m… laying on ice.” Your face softens with amusement.
He pauses.
“Right.”
He grabs your upper arms and helps you to your feet, stepping away as soon as you’re standing.
“Thanks.”
You take your hand to your upper arm briefly, letting out a low hiss.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, think I hit my shoulder.”
“That sucks for you… damn.” He eloquently says.
You glance back at your car, slowly walking back to it. Taehyung assumes you’re going to close the trunk, but when you lean to secure a bag he calls for you once again.
“What you doing?”
“There’s more stuff to take.”
“What? You’ll hurt your shoulder.”
“Did that already.”
“Stop that, let me do it.”
“No, it’s—” you look at the luggage in front of you when he comes to your side “it’s kinda heavy.”
Taehyung chuckles through his shattered ego.
“I can manhandle just fine.” He cringes as soon as he says it.
“... Right.” You clear your throat. “I got Soojin’s stuff too, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook put some of his shit in before I closed it.”
Your roommate’s name rings some bells in Taehyung’s head, and he realizes that this is the longest you two have talked since he… well, y’all know it by now, no need to keep remembering.
“Just tell me where you want them.”
You reluctantly step away from the car, and Taehyung takes a deep breath: he can’t afford to further embarrass himself in front of you, and maybe it’ll be a good opportunity to make some new, healthier, memories with you.
There are only two things that could explain why Taehyung’s forehead vein is almost popping from carrying a few bags and boxes for less than ten minutes.
First: he should consider finding the fastest way out of here because you brought bodies for a Christmas trip.
But then, this isn't really fair because he sure never had problems handling some bodies before.
…
Shit, that came out terrible. Just to be clear: he means in sex.
Which brings him to the second possible explanation: Taehyung should probably start tagging along Jungkook to the gym, because holy fuck why are things foggy?
The worst, of course, is that you’re watching him, and there’s only so much panting someone can get away with without sounding on the verge of death, so Taehyung does his best to swallow his grunts as he crosses the living room to drop a bag near your bedroom door.
“Taehyung?” You ask, and wow. You look so pretty surrounded by little white spots. Who would’ve thought.
“Yeah.” He gasps.
“You ok?”
“Absolutely! Why you ask?” His laugh sounds more like asthmatic breathing than anything else.
He blinks a few times to try and see you with some definition, and he's like, 63% sure you just furrowed your brows.
“The last thing is Soojin’s gift to Jungkook, so you can leave it there and I’ll help you get it later.”
“What? I got everything else already, it’s fine.”
“Yeah, and thank you for it, but—”
“Really, no sweat. Where?”
You consider him for a second, sighing when you point to the spot between the window and the fireplace.
“Can you place it there?”
Taehyung nods before he returns outside, carefully making his way to the car and sitting on the open trunk as soon as you’re out of view.
He can't pass out. He looked it up before and changing names is way too expensive.
So, instead, he turns to the last thing you brought: a large box, enveloped in a wrapping paper so ugly he immediately knows Jungkook chose it. He adjusts himself to grab it, but almost sobs as he realizes it’s the heaviest yet.
He takes a deep breath and secures it in his hold, sprinting back inside, blessed enough not to fall (because the universe couldn’t possibly be that cruel). He rushes to the spot you indicated and sets the box down, unable to prevent the most ridiculous little whimper to leave his lips.
“... Taehyung.”
“Again, I’m fine, it was pretty light actually.” He says, but inhales so loud that he’s sure he sucked all the room's air.
“That was a drum set you just carried.”
“... what.”
“Soojin bought Jungkook a drum set. I think it weighs about 55kg.” You explain, biting back a smile.
“Well. As I said, no biggie.” Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Oh. Kinda sore, but I'm fine.”
“Great.” He slowly gets up, swinging to his room. “I’ll go uh, unpack.”
If you say anything after that, Taehyung doesn't hear it, closing the door to his room and crashing onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide and lets out a long, tortuous breath.
He allows his body to relax for a second, dazedly looking up. He’s not sure if his vision is now compromised, if he’s about to pass out or if there’s mold in the room’s ceiling.
Hum.
The price of this place starts to make more sense by the second.
A notification draws his attention to his phone beside him.
[10:58] kookie: just try not to puke on her and you’ll be fine (;
Here’s something people don’t tell you about fuckboys: they are often really lonely and depressed.
…
Oh, no— not Taehyung, though, he’s just fine.
He enjoys the simplicity of getting his dick wet and the minimal brain power it takes to flirt.
Besides, people say love makes you stupid and Taehyung promised Jungkook he’d try to be less of that. So yeah, he likes to cuddle and maybe do some of that stupid corny shit sometimes, but as soon as the knot in his stomach starts to feel a hell lot like butterflies he’s dipping out.
The sound of your door closing across the hall snaps him out of his mind. Fucking finally!
Jumping out of his bed, Taehyung furtively exits his room, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It takes around ten minutes of opening and digging into cabinets for him to remember Soojin was the one assigned with bringing the food.
He opens the fridge, hopeful that maybe the host left something before vacating the house, but he’s met with nothing but a half empty milk bottle (that looks a hell of a lot like yogurt when he shakes it, and even he knows that’s not a good sign) and an unopened beer can.
He rubs his chin, considering his options, but starving or walking on an empty stomach under negative temperatures feels like a whole new level of dumb and he sure doesn’t wanna die with dry ass lips. So, alternatively, after a quick second of quietly and tearlessly sobbing, Taehyung brings himself to knock on your bedroom door.
When you open it he— wait, were you going to sleep? The puffiness around your cheeks and the way you lazily look at him makes Taehyung think so. Also, there’s the fact you’re wearing a pajama set, cute little bears drawn all over your legs.
“Taehyung?” He snaps his eyes up.
“Uh, the nearest town is an hour away on foot.” He blurts, gulping at the way his name sounded laced in your raspy I’ve just woken up voice.
You frown.
“... right?”
He clears his throat; tries again.
“Soojin was supposed to bring the food, so there’s nothing for us to eat. I would grab something, but I think she booked a place near Earth’s butthole, ‘cus there’s nothing close.” You chuckle. Wait, you just… chuckled? Oh god, that must mean you think he's funny!, does that mean you think he's funny oh and your smile damn he feels like that's the first time he's seen your smile quick say something funnier oh wait, not— “But nothing like a good Christmas anal, right?”
Shit.
You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait for you to react before adding, “sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I mean,” he snickers nervously “only crazy people do anal.” You close your mouth immediately, and Taehyung fights the urge to cry — the fuck is he saying? “I mean, that’s not— I don’t, uhm— I do anal all the time!” He can't tell if he's laughing or crying at this point. “Oh my god, I—”
“Taehyung?” He promptly shuts up. “I think I got it.” Your tone is teasing, but he doesn’t dare meet your eyes as heat creeps up his neck.
“Sorry.”
“What were you saying before? About the food?”
“Right!” He lets out a relieved sigh, shaking his head to try and remember what he was saying before deeming it important for you to know he does anal. “We don’t have any food so… would you mind uhm, driving me to go grocery shopping?”
“It’s not like I have any choice, right?” You let out a little laugh and oh, my god, he hopes that was just a terrible attempt at a joke. “Let me just change real quick, then we can go.”
“Ok.”
He turns back to his room before you even have time to close your door.
It takes around two minutes of screaming into his pillow for the embarrassment to die down. When he starts to change into more presentable clothes, Taehyung tries to remember where the fuck he dropped his brains before this trip.
The shithole Soojin rented is around twenty minutes from town, and Taehyung spends each one of them in pure agony.
Despite the fact that you were very comfortable, idly checking out the landscapes as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel leather, Taehyung was sure that you were seconds away from jumping out of the car to free yourself from the torture of his company. He couldn't stop wondering if he was breathing too loud, but his attempts to hold his breath quickly backfired when you kept asking why he was turning purple beside you.
Overall? Safe to say this weekend will be great!
Trying to get out of his head, he spots a convenience store a couple streets into town.
When he sets foot out of the car, Taehyung is glad you parked right in front, because holy shit, is cold as fuck. He wraps the coat tighter around him, but his shivering only stops after he steps into the establishment’s heating.
The place has only three aisles, barely stocked. A few fluorescent lamps cast the room in faint, clinical lightning and Taehyung spots a little fake Christmas tree over the counter. If art is about eliciting a reaction, whoever was responsible for decorating the place is a hell of an artist, because Taehyung feels immediately depressed.
You, on the other hand, don't seem bothered. In fact, you quietly take in the environment, and Taehyung anxiety goes nuts, ‘cus if you are not talking, then he has no clue of what you’re thinking and what you’re thinking scares the shit outta him.
His eyes travel around the shelves in an attempt to find something he can comment on, quickly grabbing a mini reindeer ornament kit while you set your purse between your knees to remove your thicker clothing.
“Hey, check this. Don’t know why people buy shit like that, it's not like reindeers even exist.”
He turns to you after laughing in the most ridiculous, unnatural way, but his smile drops immediately when he catches you folding your coat in your hands as a large — and corny as fuck — reindeer head stares back at him from your sweater.
You know what? He’s gonna own his shit talking ability as a talent, because it takes effort to be this clueless.
You look at him, bottom lip jutting out slightly before your gaze drops to your sweater.
“Damn, I’m sorry. Actually, I think reindeers are really cute, and it’s not like Santa is real anyway either.”
You frown “Taehyung?”
“Huh?”
“Are you serious?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know reindeers are real, right?”
“No, they are not. What you saying?” His brows knit together in his forehead. Your lips curve up in a smile before you start chuckling. He lets out a relieved sigh. “I knew you were just messing with me. Almost got me there.”
You shake your head as you keep laughing, but… wait— holy shit, reindeers are fucking real?! But what about the whole flying thing?
…
Well, damn.
On second thought, Taehyung should definitely be more scared of opening his mouth than he is of silence.
Your laughter melts into a large smile, before you glance around.
“Should we eat first?” You suggest, pointing to some tables near the large picture windows at front.
“Sure.” He agrees, still kinda thrown off.
You go to the cashier, asking for a menu. “What should we get?”
“Anything quick.”
“Ok. You good with ramen?” He nods and you order two bowls.
It takes no longer than five minutes for the server to bring the steaming instant food to your table.
Here’s another thing Taehyung’s just realized: keeping your mouth shut is a hell of a lot easier when your whole vision of life has just been challenged. What else is real?!
“God, this looks awful.” Your voice cuts through his existential crisis, eyes trained on the street outside the window.
“Huh?”
“There’s almost no one around and barely any decoration. Doesn’t even look like Christmas.”
“I mean, if I lived here I’d want to get the hell out for the holidays too, so.” Good! That was civilized.
“Fair”, you grant.
You tilt the bowl back a bit to drink some of the broth, giggling to yourself when you set it on the table again. “Have you ever wondered what Whoville would look like if Grinch had actually stolen Christmas?”
“What?”
“Like the Jim Carrey movie?” He nods, and you go on. “He wanted to ruin the town's Christmas spirit and shit. I think this town is what would happen if he succeeded.”
“I hate that movie.”
“Why?” You frown, but you still have a soft smile on your lips and Taehyung feels encouraged.
“A big green furry guy that uses onions as deodorant and commits arson? How the fuck is that a kid’s movie? I’m pretty sure anyone who likes Grinch is into furry or something” he snickers, “don’t know how that kinky shit can get people into their Christmas spirit.”
“You being hella judgy for someone who just found out reindeers are a thing.” You scoff.
Taehyung's smile drops.
“You… like Grinch?”
“It’s a classic, of course I like it!”
Taehyung groans, but the way your teeth nibble at your lip to hold back a smile makes him hesitate.
“Are you offended?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” You’re so blatantly amused that even Taehyung could’t miss it — and he can’t help but open a large, boxy smile at your teasing.
“Damn, I’ve been saying all kinds of deranged shit the whole day, and Grinch is what gets to you?”
“It was all shits and giggles until you decided to come for my holiday movie.”
“Your holiday movie? Shit, all I’m hearing is you not denying your furry kink.”
You gape at him, “I do not have a furry kink! Grinch has a very important message and is a very nice, sweet Christmas story.”
“Except it’s terrifying and kinky as fuck,” your playfull pout earns a chuckle out of Taehyung “sorry to be the one to ruin your Christmas spirit, but it kinda feels like I did you a favour.”
“You have no place to say it.”
“Oh?”
“Ain’t your Christmas about anal or some shit?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”
“How’s that a better way to get into your Christmas spirit?”
“Well,” he smirks “maybe you should try and see for yourself.”
You dismiss him with a laugh, and Taehyung feels something melting inside. Jesus fuck, what an infatuating sound.
Shaking your head, you finish the rest of you ramen before breaking the now comfortable silence between you.
“No, but for real. How do you do it?”
Taehyung frowns — but who is he to deny such information?
“I mean… if you must know, most people think you should start with pegging, but I think—”
“No! Why would I ask you about anal?” Oh my god, Taehyung needs to keep saying weird shit so you keep laughing like that.
“Of course, sorry, you know your stuff.”
“Maybe we should stop talking about anal.”
“You brought it up, just outright shaming me.”
“Ok, fair. My bad.”
He smiles, “what you wanna know?”
“How do you get into your holiday spirit?”
Taehyung slurps on his ramen before replying “uhm. I dunno if there’s a ritual or anything.”
“Like, when do you start to feel like it’s Christmas?”
“Usually when I get home.” Taehyung shrugs, but when his eyes meet yours and find an expectant glimmer swimming in your gaze, he makes an effort to think about it. “But it fully hits when me and my sister decorate the tree or when my mum bakes cookies.”
“That seems nice.”
“My birthday is on the 30th though, so I guess it’s kinda natural to me in a way.”
“Huh. So you’re almost Jesus.”
“Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before.” He chuckles.
“Too sinful?” You taunt, and he bites.
“Something like that. Wouldn’t pass being nailed in a cross, though.”
“Holy shit.” Your laugh sends a smile to his face. “Don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Didn’t he die so we could sin? Just doing my part.”
“Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” You shake your head, groaning dramatically. “You gonna ruin Christmas for me if you keep this up.”
“Let’s be real here, Soojin’s to blame too for renting the serial killer shack. You can’t get into the holiday spirit when your place is full of very suspicious wine stains.”
“That's fair,” you allow. “When she told me she rented a secluded little place for us to spend the winter break, I fully expected some fancy cottage like the one from The Holiday.”
“The Kate Winslet’s one?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah, we definitely don’t have that kinda budget. Jungkook spends too much on mattresses anyway,”
“What—”
“— besides, if this is a movie, it looks more like one of those big morality ones.”
“How so?”
“One of us is super greedy and presumptuous, so this is the universe’s attempt at humbling us.”
“Sending us to spend Christmas without our friends in a shitty place in a shitty town?”
“Clearly.”
“I mean, I’m a Literature major, it's not like I'll make any money.”
“Yeah, I’m in History, so.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I went to a regency themed party once and everyone looked so fine.”
“You chose your major for aesthetics?”
“What else is there to consider?”
You smile.
“And how's that going for you?”
“Three years in, not one costume party yet and my Duke attire is just gathering dust, so not great.”
“Maybe you should consider Fashion. I thought that was your major.”
“Yeah?” He pauses, considering it. “That's nice to know.” You smile and he taps his bottom lip. “But if it ain’t that kinda Christmas movie, what kind is it?”
You both ponder for a moment, before your attention returns to him, a mischievous edge to your eyes.
“Maybe it’s one of those we’re supposed to face our shit. Like the weird stuff we did in the past.”
Now, he knows you’re trying to imply something — but what? That he shouldn’t have run from you when he puked on you? ‘Cus that ain’t reasonable.
Ugh. Taehyung hates when people talk in riddles, he’s way too pretty for that.
“Maybe” he concedes, grabbing both of your bowls and getting up to throw them in the nearby trash.
He hears the small chuckle you let out, before you make your way to the door to grab a basket from a pile beside it.
Taehyung and you fall into peaceful conversation while roaming the few aisles in the store, and as the basket grows fuller, he wonders what he was shitting his pants for. Like what, he actually thought you’d just outright mention that day? You’re not cruel.
“It’s been a while since I went grocery shopping. Soojin usually buys for the two of us.” You say, grabbing some cookies from a shelf.
“I do it every week because Jungkook hates sharing food. He lost his shit once because I used all of his mayo.”
“All of his mayo? The hell kinda recipe you were making?”
…
You actually got pretty familiar with it.
“The food poisoning type.” When you laugh, he pretends that he's joking.
You finally reach the frozen section, eyes inspecting the different meat cuts available.
“What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?”
“My mom likes to make bulgogi and kimchi. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “What about you?”
You hesitate.
“Have you seen Home Alone?”
Taehyung scoffs.
“What you take me for?”
“Do you remember the mac n’ cheese scene?”
“Mhmm.”
“I’ve always wanted to have that for Christmas.” You purse your lips. “How do you fancy some bulgogi with mac n’ cheese?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
You smile. “Budget Christmas supper.”
“Just how Jesus would like it.”
“Stop saying shit like that, Taehyung. It's the man's birthday, have some respect.”
“It’s about humility.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Having a dirty mind is also a sin, you know.”
“Yeah, you’d know that.”
“Just spreading the word. You’re the sinner here.”
You level his gaze, a challenging smile tracing your face.
“Does that mean I won’t get presents this year? Have I not been a good girl?”
Ha.
No, you didn't just say that — his last brain cell just imagined it.
God, please don't say anything about being naughty.
He exhales quietly, opting for an easy out.
“If Soojin bought Jungkook a whole ass drum kit but got you nothing, then you should reconsider your friendship. Chicks before dicks or whatever.”
“I already accepted that Jungkook won. At this point I’m just the girl she shares rent with.”
“Well, I haven’t accepted shit. You please tell your rent sharer that Jungkook is mine.”
“You should tell him that, too. I’m afraid he might’ve forgotten.”
Taehyung whines.
“You don't have to say it.”
“Sorry, I’ll let you live in denial.” Your attention returns to the refrigerator, choosing a package of beef and placing it in the basket. “What about you get us something for breakfast and I figure out our dinner today?”
Taehyung nods, walking down the next aisle. He picks up what he deems necessary not to starve the next few days and secures a mediocre wine bottle on the way before he follows you to pay for everything.
Once outside, Taehyung opens the backseat door and starts to place the groceries there, but you don’t make a move to enter the car when he’s done.
He calls you, and when you turn to him, he finds a large, beaming smile plastered on your face. You point down the street where a decaying sign announces a Christmas tree lot sale.
Taehyung shakes his head, shivering as he rubs his hands together.
“No, c’mon. They probably just have those really ugly scrawny ones.” The way your smile immediately falters makes Taehyung feel like complete shit, so he strides to your side and adds, as convincing as possible: “but! We might be lucky! It’s a small town, so they probably didn’t sell that much to begin with.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek.
“You think so?”
“We can at least try.”
When you reach the sale, however, Taehyung cringes. There aren’t many trees left, and most of them already look terrible. He’s already trying to come up with something to comfort you, but when he looks at you? Shit, he might have thought it was Christmas morning already.
And the sight melts something inside of him. The warmth of your gaze when looking at utterly fucked up Christmas trees, as if they're brand new, makes him wanna be on the receiving end of that look.
You start to roam through the rows, inspecting the trees around you.
Now that he's not actively walking anymore, Taehyung feels his body stiffening from the cold, and he starts to tremble beside you.
“I don’t know why you're wearing that thin ass coat in this weather.” You taunt.
“My goal was to look hot, not to be warm.”
“Haven’t you regretted it yet?”
“It depends.” He smiles. “Do I look hot?”
“You look cold. Actually you look kinda purple now.”
“Not even pretty?” He pouts.
“You are pretty. There’s no changing that.” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him. “But now you just look so cold that I almost wanna warm you up. Make you hot.”
What. The. Fuck.
Your tone immediately takes him back to that day at the party. To the way you flirted with him with your back pressed against his front before he took you upstairs.
The way you never once darted your eyes away from him and he felt delirious, hot, under your attention — and it’s that same intensity he finds flashing across your gaze now.
No fucking way.
Forgetting what came next, Taehyung’s mind traps him in the memory of your hand reaching between your bodies to palm him through his pants, the recollection not as sexy due to the weird rumbling of his stomach.
Coming back to his senses, to your very present eyes staring at him, he curves his lips up.
“Sorry, but this Christmas I'm good girls exclusive.”
“You saying I’m a bad girl?” You pout.
Taehyung blinks a few times.
“Shit.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Fuck, you gotta stop pouting like that.
“You just messing with me.” He shakes his head, pointing at you. “I’mma go look on the other side of the lot now.”
You laugh as he turns, walking away from you.
He does not have the necessary control to deal with you flirting with him. Not when it makes no fucking sense. And the thing is that he isn’t often the smart one in his life (that’s Jungkook’s job when he isn’t struck dumb by his love for Soojin or his occasional hatred for Taehyung), so he isn't exactly the best at understanding people.
However — although he knows he’s unfairly hot — it makes no sense for you to want him. Not after what happened. And he’s not gonna risk another embarrassing situation after things are starting to resemble normalcy with you. As a matter of fact, Taehyung is too dumb to risk anything when there isn’t clear and explicit interest.
He shakes those thoughts off his head, focusing on finding a decent enough tree, but it takes around fifteen minutes of touching crumbling twigs for him to hear you calling his name from the other side of the lot.
You’re staring quizzically at a medium sized yellowish-green tree when he reaches you. To its credit, most of its branches — although looking like they could break just from being started at for too long — are still pretty full. Hopefully it can hold some ornaments to keep that smile on your face.
“What you think?”
“It does look better than the other ones.” He points. “You want this one?”
“Yep.”
“I’m so fucking happy” you declare, staring at the wack ass tree on your car’s roof.
Taehyung chuckles.
“I’m glad.”
You step to the driver’s side, moving to get in when you notice that Taehyung isn’t following.
“Ain’t you coming?”
“You bought a Christmas tree but won’t buy ornaments?” He teases, and a large grin spreads across your face. “C’mon, I saw some in the convenience store.”
You return to Taehyung’s side and you retrace your steps down the street.
“I feel like I must warn you that the last time I decorated a tree was when I was a kid.” You confess. “So it’ll probably look like shit.”
“That’s dumb. Every tree looks good if you decorate it with love.”
“Now you’re just being corny.” You nudge his side.
“I’m just trying to anticipate you to the fact that I also can’t decorate for shit.”
“So much for being experienced.”
“Experience means shit. For example, Jungkook is like, five years old and is so wiser than me already.”
“He did drive straight against a light pole in a parking lot. So maybe you’re setting the bar too low.”
“You know, you can insult me all you want, but I won’t let you come for my Kookie.”
“Your cookie?” You tease.
“What you smirking for? God, you have such a filthy mind.”
“Do not!”
“No way you watch Grinch with that dirty mind and do not have a furry kink.”
“Shut up.” You give his arm a light smack, but you’re giggling when you push open the store’s door for the second time that afternoon.
Taehyung guides you to a shelf with a bunch of Christmas themed products, and you both start to choose from little foam and plastic ornaments.
“Fuck, that’s so cute.” He says, holding a mini foam sock you picked in his large hands.
“I know, right? Loved those little stars you got, too.” You say, placing it all over the register.
“Nice to see you two again.” The cashier grins.
“We bought a tree, so we needed some ornaments.” Taehyung reasons.
“Sure.” He looks at the two of you for a second. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys are such a cute couple.”
Taehyung’s face falls.
He kinda hates hearing stuff like this.
He’s heard people saying that about him and Soojin when they were fighting at a toy store trying to settle on something to buy Kook for Children’s day, and he’s heard it when he was having breakfast with a girl he had hooked up with — whose name he spent the whole meal trying to remember.
However, he never really heard it with Jungkook, even when the boy spent a whole dinner fucking sniffling his neck due to a new loation Taehyung had bought. Neither had he heard it when he was all smiles and giggles with a guy he saw for a while some months ago.
So he doesn’t really give those comments any credit. Especially because he knows he looks cute with anyone.
You, on the other hand, seem to think it’s outright hilarious.
“Thank you!” You laugh. “We aren’t together, though.”
Ha.
No way you were seriously flirting with him.
“Oh. Sorry if I…”
“No, it’s okay.” You reassure. “We sure are cute.”
Your prideful smile has Taehyung smiling too, despite himself. He likes how confidence looks on you.
The cashier rings you up, and Taehyung grabs the bags, following you outside.
When he finally stops struggling to place the tree near the house’s fireplace, it’s already dark outside.
You tried to help him a couple times, but Taehyung was intransigent, especially because of the branches — he was full of little cuts and scratches when he was done. Which is fine, makes him look kinda edgy, but he didn’t want to see them on your soft skin.
You drop the bags with the ornaments on the floor by his side, hands coming to rest on your hips. “You know, oddly enough I don’t know of any movie that has a Christmas tree decoration scene.”
“There’s that Friends scene where they decorate Monica’s tree.”
“Really? Never watched Friends.”
Taehyung gasps dramatically.
“And you like Grinch? Can’t believe I’m gonna spend Christmas with a psychopath.” He pauses. “Oh god, did Soojin rent this house for you to kill me?”
“Still with the Grinch judgment?”
“If anything I think I’m not judging enough.” You roll your eyes. “You seriously never seen Friends?”
“I don’t really like series. Too much commitment.”
“Ohhh, didn’t know you were a player.” He teases, and you laugh.
“What can I say. I'm as heartless as they come.”
“You do look very cold holding that little plush candy cane.”
“Isn't it part of the fuckboy agenda to pretend to be sweet and caring?”
“So you're manipulative kind too? Damn, you should come with a warning.”
“Who cares about affective responsibility anyway?”
He sighs, “I have so much to learn.”
You giggle, shaking your head, and Taehyung grabs another ornament bag.
“Wait, let me set the mood.” You turn around, grabbing your phone from the couche’s armrest and putting on a Christmas playlist.
As Justin Bieber’s fetus voice starts filling up the room, Taehyung lets out a loud chuckle.
“Mistletoe?”
“You seriously coming for every Christmas thing I like?” You groan at his mocking tone. “Let me live, Taehyung.”
“I’d let you, but you not doing it right.” He says, approaching you to grab the phone from your hands, but you quickly step away.
“Hell, no. This song is hella cute, you’re not changing it. Just enjoy.”
“Uh, fine. Can I choose the next one?”
“... ok. But it needs to be Christmas related.”
“I have my own Christmas playlist, you know.”
“If it doesn’t have Mistletoe on it, then I already know it’s shit.”
He gapes, feigning offense.
“Damn, the disrespect. May George Michael never hear you.”
And then you two start to assemble the little ornaments around your shitty tree, mocking each other’s music taste but enjoying and absentmindedly swinging to every song.
It’s only when Mariah Carrey’s voice sounds through your phone that you stop for a second. Your eyes find Taehyung’s with ease, when he too halts his actions after carefully hanging a little star in one of the branches.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Need more Christmas wisdom?”
“Kinda.”
“Shoot.”
“Can you tell me more about holidays with your family?”
“Sure. What do you wanna know?”
“Anything.”
“Please, be more vague.”
You think, before grabbing a little Santa hat from the bag.
“How is decorating the tree with your sister like?”
“Uhm, she’s always very organized. She likes to plan it and she used to come up with different themes every year.” He smiles to himself. “One year she convinced us to buy a fake white tree because she thought it was fancy or something. It looked like shit when we finished decorating it, so my mum took us to a last minute tree hunt and we all started a whole different decoration before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.”
“Cute.”
“Yeah, now she loves little elf ornaments. My dad bought some once and she lost her shit because of how cute they are, so she plans her decoration around them every year.”
“Oh. We should’ve bought little elfs, then.”
“Nah, I’m tired of them. This way is nice.” Taehyung opens a bag with little plastic sleigh decorations and you two start to distribute them.
“So she’s a planner. How do you decorate?”
“I usually just do as she says. You know. Shoving the little things and hoping they don’t fall.” You chuckle and Taehyung looks at you. “What about you? How’s tree decorating with your family?”
You pause, letting out a long breath before you answer, “Don’t have that many memories to choose from, honestly.”
Taehyung frowns, before a little confused laugh leaves his lips.
“What, are you traumatized or something?”
Your eyes widen when you meet his gaze, smile completely wiped from your face as your hands halt mid-air.
Taehyung immediately panics, synapses synapsing before—
Well. Shit.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”
His apologies are interrupted by the loud sound of your laughter. He almost thinks he’s imagining it before he turns to you, the little sleigh ornament falling from your hands as you lean on your knees.
“Are you… uh, okay?”
“Can’t believe you just asked that.” You try to catch your breath, laughter breaking into little giggles.
“I’m really sorry, though, I don’t kno—”
“Taehyung,” you interrupt again, biting your lip in an attempt to contain your amusement, “it’s fine, honestly. I’m okay with it, just didn’t expect you to straight up say it.” You giggle a bit more as he processes your words.
“Oh… so you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t have a good relationship with my parents, and this is my first Christmas without them. Don’t wanna talk about it… sorry if it’s weird or it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, you didn’t.” Taehyung fights the urge to apologize again, but he can help repeating himself. “You really ok, though?”
“Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about it.”
He nods, thinking before clearing his throat, “so. Want me to tell you more holiday with the Kims stories?”
Taehyung makes an effort not to let things become awkward, but it hits him then that this must be a pretty important Christmas for you — if the eager way you nod is anything to go by — and he kinda feels bad that you have to spend it with him.
Despite his concern, you fall into your now familiar laughing and teasing as he goes on to tell a bunch of family memories while you two finish up the tree.
Taehyung never had problems falling asleep. Actually, if anything, he had problems staying awake — being so hot can be exhausting sometimes. Ugh, who is he kidding? If anyone knows this, it is you. You, with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes and your pretty hands and your pretty face and your pretty voice and your fucking gorgeous body and your sense of—
Uhm. You got the point.
Anyway.
Ahem.
Where was he?
Oh, yeah.
Taehyung never really had problems sleeping, but that night, after bidding you goodnight and returning to the warmth of his covers after a good steamy shower, he felt restless.
A weird sense of responsibility weighted on him, and he promised himself that he’d try to make this holiday remarkable for you — and that he’d keep that fucking smile on your face. But even after his resolution, his body felt foreign. Taehyung kept shifting inside the covers, gut turning and twisting almost as if he had eaten something he shouldn’t and the thought kept him awake for hours on end until he realized that it resembled butterflies.
He pretended like he didn’t know why he was feeling that, but, after he finally drifted off, your face starred his every dream.
“Merry Christmas Eve!”
“So you finally remembered I exist, hum?” Taehyung secures his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places the dishes in the sink.
You were twenty minutes deep into a Love Actually rant when his ringtone pierced through your argument. You shut up immediately, only then realizing how caught up you’ve gotten, but Taehyung was almost disappointed when you put away your lunch plate and left the kitchen to provide some privacy.
“What? I don’t remember you calling me when I was in the hospital yesterday.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone properly as he makes his way to his bedroom.
“People grieve in different ways, Jungkook. You must learn to respect that.”
“What are you grieving, asshole, I didn’t die.”
“Your dignity did. Driving straight against a light pole then whining over a twisted ankle.”
“The light pole was in my blind spot.”
“So you did whine?”
“Like a proper man.” Taehyung chuckles.
“I know you’re fine, Soojin kept me updated. I figured you were tired, so I didn’t call or anything.”
“Pretty sure you sent a text blaming me for getting into an accident.”
“It kinda was your fault, though, wasn’t it, Kook?”
Jungkook gets silent on the line for a second, before letting out a loud exhale.
“Are you mad with me?”
Taehyung frowns.
“What you talking about?”
“Fuck, you are, aren’t you? I just… I’m sorry, man. I know you didn’t wanna go in the first place but I kept asking you to go, and now you’re there alone.”
“Hum. I don’t accept your apology, tho—”
“Wow. Okay, then. I mean, it wasn’t my fault you puked on her and went all incognito, so it seems a bit harsh, but go off, I guess.”
“The hell? I was gonna say I don’t accept it ‘cus there’s nothing to apologize for, jackass.”
“Oh.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Appreciate it, man. But for real, I’m sorry. Hope things aren’t too awkward there.”
Taehyung chews the inside of his cheek.
“Actually? Things are ok. Went to town to buy some stuff with her yesterday and she’s so cool, man. We’re cool.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was a bit in my head at first, but it’s fine now.”
“Sweet! In that case, you’re welcome.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle.
“Yeah, thank you for crashing your car, it made me happy.”
“Everything for you, Tae.”
“Shit. I kinda miss you, tough.”
“Yeah, same. But we’ll be there soon enough.”
“Great. Now, have you ever realized how amazing Emma Thompson is on Love Actually? I feel like we don’t give her enough love, and I was just reflecting on some shit.”
“Oh my god, I kinda thought the same thing the last time we watched it. I mean, let's think about it for a sec here.”
Taehyung could distinctly hear the corny Christmas soundtrack when he set foot outside his room after hours trying to soothe his Jungkook deficiency. He smiled to himself, approaching the living room.
He finds you clutching the blanket to your chest, eyes focused on the action on the TV screen.
“You ok?” His question makes you jump on the couch, hand immediately flying to your chest.
“Jesus, Taehyung! Announce yourself, goddammit!” You try to catch your erratic breath as he chuckles.
“My bad.” You grab the remote to jump back a few scenes. “What are you watching?”
“Nightmare before Christmas.”
“Nice choice.”
“Wanna join?”
“Nah. Think it's time to start making dinner.”
“Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go.”
You start to peel the covers off you, but Taehyung shakes his hand quickly.
“Let me take care of it! You can chill.”
You frown, “you don't need help?”
“No, I can figure it out by myself, enjoy your marathon.”
Okay, he knows what you're thinking, and it does seem like a pretty terrible idea given… well, the way you two met. But! Taehyung is nothing but a dedicated man, and that night with you he was humbled. So, he spent the months following the incident learning and researching and — after getting fairly acquainted with food poisoning and stressing the fuck outta Jungkook — he finally mastered the art of cooking.
…
That was misleading, sorry.
He can confidently make popcorn, and hesitantly make ramen and mac and cheese — everything an adult needs to survive, honestly —, and tonight's menu just so happens to contain one of his specialties. He just has to figure out the bulgogi part, and then he's gonna blow your fucking mind.
“Oh, by the way,” you call from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen area “I didn't find any good brands of mac and cheese yesterday, so I bought the ingredients to make it from scratch. Hope it's okay?”
Well, shit.
Taehyung reassures you weakly, not wanting to take that smile off your face, and takes a deep breath before starting to gather the ingredients.
How hard can it be, really?
Surprising absolutely no one, Taehyung didn't figure shit out.
What he did, though, in the twenty minutes it took for him to come to his senses, was learn a few big words. Like marinated. What does it even mean? And why does every recipe site assume he knows it? He knows shit.
Also, why is mac and cheese sauce not just melted cheese? Makes absolutely no fucking sense. Honestly? Straight up cynical.
But you see kids, Taehyung didn’t just learn to make popcorn and instant food during the previous months. In fact, he also did a little of what you could call a character development (who would’ve thought that throwing up over the hottest girl he’s even met could teach you so much about life? Amazing, honestly), and that’s why now, instead of getting creative, he decides to just call for you.
“Yeah?” You answer dismissively, attention still in the skeleton singing on the screen.
“I, uh… need your help.”
You pause the movie, turning your body to face him over the couch.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Honestly?” His smile is shy as he looks away from you. “I can't cook for shit. Hate to ask after telling you I would do it, but I also feel like food poisoning isn't on your Christmas bucket list, so… can you help me with dinner?”
Your smile, on the other hand, is blissful.
“How do you survive?”
“Barely. But Jungkook is a good cook.”
“Oh, yeah.” You consider. “Soojin has started to eat more at home after he started cooking for us too.”
“So… will you help me?”
“Of course.” You're already on your feet by the time the words leave your mouth, and Taehyung can see you're wearing that cute ass bear pajamas from yesterday. You look so fucking soft and comfortable.
When you join him in the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the way your outfit matches his own — although his pattern is of little tigers. You search briefly around the cabinets and reach for the wine he got the day before, and you two let the sweet alcohol tint your lips as you look through all the ingredients he displayed on the counter.
“Soojin made mac and cheese the other day, so I’ll do her way. Also, bulgogi ain’t really that hard, anyway. Just… do as I say.”
“Sure.”
Taehyung pays close attention to your instructions, and you task him with a basic chopping job that — although really fucking dangerous considering the size of the knife — seems easy enough that he won’t fuck it up. You charge yourself with the pasta, filling a pan with water and turning up the heat.
“What does one usually do after supper?”
“Well, it varies. My brother likes to watch Christmas movies. My parents would just sleep. Jungkook likes to get shitfaced and dance.”
“And you?”
“I’m the one he dances with.” You smile.
“Cute.”
“What you wanna do?”
“Uhm… watch movies? There’s a few remaining on my list.”
“We could do that.”
“Oh, sorry. Did I give you the impression that I wanted to do it with you?”
“As if. I’m your Christmas mentor, you need me.”
“Need no such thing anymore. Besides, I feel like I mentored you a bit too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Care to tell me how?”
“For one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still think reindeers aren’t real.”
“Hey, that’s not—”
“And you’d be left to eat basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”
“What I’m hearing is that you took the fun outta my holidays.”
“Oh, yeah? I bought some ramen yesterday, suit yourself.”
“God, you’re so mean, so cold. But that's okay. I happen to have a very big heart, so I forgive your lack of gratitude. We can still watch something together.”
“But I’m not apologizing.”
“You’ll watch your movies alone then?”
“Don’t exactly feel like holding your hand when you get scared.”
“What kinda Christmas movies are you watching?”
“Old scary Grinch.” Your smile only widens when Taehyung groans.
“Stop it.” He nudges you. “Your water is boiling already.”
“C’mon, Tae, let’s face some childhood fears, maybe that’s what our movie is about.”
He rolls his eyes, but your laugh pulls a smile outta him.
At some point, after around two hours of teasing and working through the wine bottle — now long forgotten and replaced by the cheap beer you got at the store —, you two manage to finish dinner. Now, Taehyung ain't no chef. But if the smell is anything to go by, this might just be his best meal, and he's happy he was able to contribute.
He sets the table while you give the food the final touches, and in no time you two are sitting across from each other, bulgogi mac and cheese bowls waiting in front of you, while Michael Bublé's voice envelops the house.
Taehyung fills his spoon and takes the first bite.
Holy shit.
For a second, he just lets the food sit on his tongue. The flavor coating his every sense as you stare expectantly at him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a low sigh; he could never have enough creativity to describe such a taste.
What he knows of, though, is that it tastes like shit.
Thoroughly and unmistakably garbage and he's left surprised at how you two were able to mess up this bad… Okay, maybe not that surprised: he was there after all — but oh my god, you can't cook for your life!
But, when he opens his eyes, meeting your glimmering ones, he doesn't have it in his heart to tell you. Maybe you just have a different taste or something, maybe your food is too refined for his traumatized palate.
So, he gathers his strength and chews the fucking pasta.
“So?” You ask, after he swallows.
“Mhmmm” he hums “it's definitely something.”
Your face drops on cue, and Taehyung offers a weak smile when you reach for your own spoon, shoving pasta in your mouth and groaning when it touches your tongue.
“Oh my god”, you quickly get a napkin to spit the food. “But… it smells so good. How did I fucked this up?” You drop your head on your palms over the table.
“It does smell delicious.” He inhales deeply, letting the deceiving dish smell soothe his senses after the atrocious taste.
“I’m so sorry.” You groan.
“For what?”
“Ruining our Christmas dinner.”
“What you talking about? Pretty sure I can get full just by sniffling the shit out of this.” You lift your face from your hands, meeting his attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’m serious.”
“So what? You think I could’ve done better?” He chuckles. “Honestly, you’re miles ahead of my cooking skills just for making it smell like food.” He continues when a small smile tugs at your lips. “Definitely understand why Soojin wasn’t eating at home before Jungkook, but it looks great nonetheless.”
You giggle faintly.
“But for real… what are we gonna do?”
He looks around the kitchen, before smiling at you.
“Think I'm gonna suit myself with some basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”
After cleaning the table and making sure to strictly follow the basic three step ramen instructions, you two move your Christmas supper to the couch — or rather, you return to your cozy place under the blankets and he gets acquainted with the nearby armchair.
It feels ridiculously comfortable. And as you two keep making your way through Bridget Jones' Diary, Taehyung realizes a few weird things.
The first, is that he doesn’t know how you ever manage to finish movies, because you constantly feel the need to pause and over analyze a scene for at least five minutes before you deem him informed enough to move onto the next one. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it adorable, especially when you rolled up your sleeves, tossed the empty ramen bowl on the coffee table and explained to him almost angrily why Bridget’s resignation scene is real cinema or something.
The second, and perhaps most alarming one, is that he hasn’t paid attention to a single scene after the first time you paused. His eyes apparently forget how to strain away from you. From your arms, from your hair, from your smiles and chuckles. You seem to be aware that he’s staring, but pretend that it's just the spiciness of the ramen that got you fanning yourself, while making no effort whatsoever to push the blankets away from you.
You’re just… entracing. So beautiful, so excited, so worked up, so cute and just such a fucking menace that he feels like he’s spinning — cheap bear aside, he doesn’t think it’s on alcohol he’s drunk on.
Although, from the amount of cans accumulated by his and yours feet, you two aren’t exactly sober either.
…
Yeah, sure, it’s the beer. The alcohol. He’s drunk. That’s it.
“Taehyung, can I ask you something?” Your voice breaks through his mind, snapping him out of his inner ramblings.
“Sure.”
“I know you hate it. But can you maybe watch Grinch with me too?” And you quickly add, before he can even open his mouth to contest: “I really like it, and it’s the last one on my list, and” you hiccup “maybe you can grow to like it now as an adult!”
He groans.
“Why do you like that shit?”
“Please! I don’t wanna watch it alone.”
“I don’t know…”
You look around the room, as if trying to find something that will convince him, but it’s when Taehyung sips on his beer that your eyes lit up with an idea.
“Didn’t you say you liked to get shitfaced and then dance with Jungkook during Christmas?”
“... yeah?”
“Then let’s do that! Let’s get really drunk,” you hiccup again, letting out a little giggle. “Ok, maybe that part is covered. So, let's dance, then watch Grinch!”
“You wanna dance?”
“Then watch Grinch!” You repeat, words slurred in the cutest little way. “I’ll do it for you, you do it for me.”
You don’t wait for him to agree before you’re on your feet, crossing the space between you and grabbing his hands to help him rise from the couch — but Taehyung doesn’t fight any of it. Because the pout on your lips and the way your eyes are glimmering with fondness (and intoxication too, he’s sure), makes him wanna do just everything you tell him too.
You set your phone on the coffee table and face him again.
“Oh” you giggle, clumsily stepping back when you realize just how close you two are. You clear your throat. “So how do you two do it?”
“We just dance. There’s no plan or a right way to do it, just… dance.” He blinks.
Fuck, he’s really drunk.
“Okay.”
He giggles at your uneasiness, reaching for your phone and starting one of his Christmas playlists. He doesn’t need much to start swaying when a sweet jazz rhythm sounds through your speakers. He shakes his shoulders playfully, earning a laugh from you.
“Damn, you’re so old.”
He chuckles.
“What you waiting for? Just dance with me.”
He grabs your wrists and guides you to swing with him, lifting your arms and twisting you before letting you to set your own pace with a large smile on your face.
Taehyung feels so at peace. The alcohol easing his thoughts, the jazz moving his body, your cute giggles gracing his ears.
“I'll give it to you, your music taste isn't bad.”
He clicks his tongue.
“You wouldn't be swaying like that to Mistletoe, I guarantee you.”
“Wanna bet?” You challenge, already grabbing your phone to change the song.
Taehyung laughs when you switch up your dancing style to something far more agitated than the song demands, clumsily circling the coffee table. He's clearly more skilled than you, so he tries to exaggerate and act up his movements to match yours.
“Okay, now sing with me” you clap your hands “— but Imma be under the mistletoe. With youuu” you point at him “shawty with you.”
You can't finish the chorus as you burst into little giggles, and Taehyung follows suit.
“Shut up.”
“That's the only tradition left, I think.”
“Huh?”
“The mistletoe.”
He stumbles on the couch.
“What?”
You look at him for a second, and your grin falters just a little before you shake your head.
“Why so violent with the couch? No need to be scared.” You laugh. “Damn, you're such a bad dancer.”
Taehyung can't understand mixed signals when he's sober — so it's not like he's gonna try when he’s this drunk.
“How dare you! If the music was better it'd definitely be easier. Put on some nice Stray Kids if you really wanna know what I'm made of.”
It’s a ridiculous scene, really. One that he wouldn’t believe could’ve happened a day before, but here you are, dancing around the living room, bumping into the furniture and laughing like two children as a way to force him to watch a stupid Christmas movie with you.
And fuck, he likes it.
He likes the way your shirt lifts whenever you raise your arms, exposing a line of your lower stomach. He likes the way your ass shakes when you try to make a funny move. He likes the way a thin layer of sweat coats your exposed skin, and how desperate he is to lick it clean. He likes the way you look at him, like he is the one making you this fucking happy.
And then you finally pause the music.
“I'll admit. If History doesn’t work, you can definitely make a career out of dancing.”
“Thanks.” He smiles. “You should stick to Literature, though.”
“Hey!”
You laugh, shoving him playfully as you let your body fall on the couch, pushing the blanket to the armrest and away from you. He doesn’t bat an eye when he sits beside you this time.
“Can we watch it now?”
He sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”
You reach for the remote and before Taehyung can ever prepare himself, the stupid narrator is already introducing you two to Whoville.
It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s not ready to face any childhood fears today, because as Jim Carey’s furry face is slowly but surely shown, he’s already shivering and looking away.
This time, though, you don’t ignore his lack of attention to the movie.
“Oh my god” you laugh, pausing the movie six minutes in, Grinch’s ugly ass face occupying the whole screen. “You’re scared scared of it. Actually scared.”
He scoffs.
“No, I’m not?”
“Why are you looking away, then?”
“Nothing, you can keep going.”
You smirk, “okay.”
Taehyung is able to stomach the next few scenes, complaining at the stupid hairstyles and outfits the characters use while you just eye him amused. When Grinch’s face shows up again, Taehyung starts to restlessly shift on the couch to have an excuse to look away, and the constant cracking of the backrest is what prompts you to pause the movie again.
“Stop moving so much. You gonna break the couch.”
“It’s just uncomfortable. Can’t find a good position.”
“Taehyung, we can choose a different movie if you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared though, this movie is fine.”
“The movie is, you aren’t.”
He crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.
“You know, you don’t look like someone who scares easily.”
“Because I’m not.”
“You've been cringing since the movie began.”
“Because it's bad.” Damn, he sounds like a five year old.
You shift on the couch to face him, before tugging on his elbow lightly, compelling him to meet your eyes.
“If you admit you’re scared, I’ll change it.”
Your stare is intense as you wait for him to give in and he suddenly feels warm. Your hand is still resting on his arm, and a weird stir on his stomach makes Taehyung feel like that isn’t contact enough — but he blames it on the beer for the time it takes for him to remember how to form syllables.
Shaking his head, he scoffs.
“No wonder you like Grinch so much, you’re just like him.”
“Damn, just like him? Now who’s the mean one?”
“Still you.”
“Well, you just compared me to Jim Carrey in a hairy green costume, so.”
“I mean, you’re not as bad on the eyes.”
“Wow, thanks. That’s some competition.”
He doesn’t think. He says.
“You don’t have competition. You're like, in a league of your own.”
The chalet Soojin found was the only one with three bedrooms y’all could afford, but as you two have quickly learned these last days, that doesn’t mean that it was a good place. Actually, Taehyung only stopped calling it a shack because Jungkook told him it made Soojin sad — but even with every door and window closed, he’s still able to catch you shivering under the cold breeze breaching through the shit heating system. Fuck this place and how it makes you cold.
“Oh.” It's all you manage to reply.
“And that’s even worse.”
“How?” You offer him a little, unconvincing laugh.
“You deceive. Grinch would’ve succeeded on his stupid plan if he seduced people.”
“So what, am I seducing you or something?”
He doesn’t answer.
No, he can't answer that. Not with words, at least. Not with the way the alcohol is steadily dissolving his filters, and not with the way you're looking at him. So he just stares at you.
He just stares at you as if your eyes hold the answers to all of his questions — and that’s saying something because he has a lot of them — and then you wet your lips, dragging his eyes down your face. The sensitive flesh is tinted red, a memory of the spicy sauce and wine you just had, now glistening with your saliva too. And Taehyungs feels the urge to taste it.
It’s you, however, that finally leans in, erasing the space between you to smash your lips against his in a kiss that Taehyung feels like he waited his whole life for.
And the desperation is evident, the need to make up for a missed time neither of you were aware of, so his hand reaches for the nape of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against yours. It's messy and mostly sloppy, but it lights a fire inside both of you.
You further press your mouths together, Taehyung’s breath tangling with yours in what looks like an attempt to eat each other’s faces off — and fuck, he wants nothing less.
It takes only a light touch on your thigh for you to promptly sway your leg over his hips, straddling his thighs without breaking contact for a second.
The new angle allows for him to feel all of you. The weight of your body and the taste of your tongue makes his mind spin, and shit he can’t focus on technique for his life, he just wants to keep his mouth on yours forever.
Taehyung’s large palms skim up your thighs, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pushing a low breathy moan out of your throat. Shit. If he was eager before, Taehyung’s actions now turn straight up feral, hungrily seeking your lips while pressing you down on his body, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the way you seem to effortlessly fit above him.
The new found intensity makes your knee jolt on the remote beside your leg. You pause the kiss for a moment to giggle drunkenly when Grinch’s voice sounds through the room, and that’s when Taehyung’s inebriated thoughts finally seem to catch up to him.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
You’re drunk. Shit, you’re drunk as fuck. He can taste it. He can feel it in the way your hands clumsily tug on his hair, and in the way your hips uncoordinatedly roll over his.
Shit.
He squeezes his eyes further shut, trying to get some sense into his head, and finally gathers enough control to pull away.
You immediately frown, chasing after his lips, but he turns his face.
“Tae?”
He swallows at the breathless way your voice comes out, the nickname rolling off your tongue just makes him wanna grab your face again and resume the messy make out session. So, with his mind still spinning, he struggles to find the right words when he opens his mouth.
“I think we shouldn’t do this.” His voice is slurred.
You freeze, backing away just a bit to inspect his elusive face, and whatever you find there makes your whole expression drop. You clear your throat awkwardly and lift your leg to move away from his thighs. Taehyung’s hands feel hella empty without your hips to hold on to, but he pushes through the feeling, rising from the couch as soon as you’re securely away, and bolts away to his room down the corridor, pants awfully tight.
Taehyung feels like shit the next morning, in more ways than one.
He’s not sure how he was even able to fall asleep — although the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood might have helped.
He knows he did the right thing stopping it: you were both way past clarity for clear consent, but in all his years as a certified fuckboy he never communicated that so poorly, and never ever made someone feel undesirable — and he fears that's exactly what he did last night. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, because holy fuck he doesn’t think he’s ever desired someone so desperately.
However, as much as he would love to do it all again, much much more sober, he can’t assume the same for you. Especially not after the ridiculous way he handled the situation. But he shouldn’t leave it like that. No, he has to talk to you, to explain and then apologize. It’s still Christmas after all, and the last thing he wants is to give you another bad holiday memory.
That thought is enough to prompt him out of bed, and Taehyung crosses the corridor with surprising confidence before stopping at your door.
Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocks before closing his hand around the handle, turning it and pushing it open.
He expects to find you sleeping. He kinda expected you to be awake too, deep in thought just as he was — but fuck, he definitely wasn't expecting that.
You coat your fingers in your arousal before pushing them up to circle your clit. The relief is immediate, and you have to cover your mouth with your free hand to prevent your pleasure from spilling from your lips.
Your eyes flutter shut when you imagine what Taehyung's long fingers would feel like replacing yours. How he would drag them up and down your folds, spreading your juices and making your pussy all nice and slick for him, before plunging them inside, scissoring you open and curving just the right way.
Fuck, you’re so fucking horny.
You should've found a way to blow some steam, to relieve that pressure before you came on this trip. Granted, you didn’t really know you and Taehyung would be by yourselves, so the only thing you expected from him were avoidant eyes and quick, uncomfortable escapes — which you got last night, after your stupid drunk ass thought it was a good idea to kiss him. Shit, what did you have in mind?
Oh, right. Kim Taehyung.
The first time you ever saw him, in that cursed party, you were immediately sure of one thing: Kim Taehyung is tailor-made by hell. There’s no other way to explain his alluring eyes, that burn with such intensity that the mere glance your way makes you feel like the hottest fucking person alive; or his lips, soft and plumpy lips, that spread in the utmost tempting smirk you’ve ever seen. And his body? Fuck, he’s so hot that you honestly wanna eat your fist whenever you look at him.
So, it’s fair to say, you were pretty fucking happy that he made a move on you on that party. To this day, remembering the way his back was pressed against yours and the words he whispered in your ear? The promises he made? You just knew you would do everything to see them through.
But you feel like you’ve been trapped in your own fucked up version of groundhog day. One in which every time a hot person sees something in you that deems you fuckable, you’re always fucking interrupted. You feel like you’ve been edged for months now, starting with Taehyung puking on you, followed by you and Jimin being interrupted when you were searching for something to use as bondage and last month, when you had your fingers deep inside one of your classmates pussy and her sister decided to visit her the very same moment.
You’re a simple girl, with simple needs. You just want to cum.
And despite all the months without basic, mature communication, you still fucking wanted Taehyung to blow your back. God, the things you heard of him, the rumors, the giggling feedback… all ruined because as soon as he made sure you were clean and held no evidence of his lunch, he disappeared as if you had imagined him. But how could you ever blame him for getting sick? You’ve worked six months in a nursery last year, you’re pretty much immune to vomit at this point.
Nonetheless, his lack of opening after it all made you shut down that window, and you didn’t really gave it much thought until Jungkook decided to fucking destroy his car (honestly, how could he drive straight against a fucking pole, so damn inconvenient!) and you and Taehyung were left to your own devices in a shitshow of a town. And then, you got everything but what you expected.
You found out that his sweet smile can be just as alluring as his smirk. And that his eyes can hold a kindness and an innocence so genuine that’s almost infuriating. That he’s the silliest fucking man alive and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to make you company during Christmas — he is basically Jesus after all. The GOAT of Christmas and shit.
But after last night? After remembering what his lips taste like? After remembering the weight of his hands as they trace your legs and set every inch of your skin on fire? Shit, you’re not sure how you went a single day without it.
Consequently, after an hour tossing and turning on bed, you came up with a clear plan of action: you would apologize. Would face him, and apologize for kissing his last night and for making him uncomfortable. But fuck, you have to deal with that knot in the pit of your stomach before setting foot out of bed.
With that in mind, you push your fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking your walls the way you can just imagine that he would, reaching spots that yours never could. You bite the palm over your mouth, trying to keep a loud moan from slipping out when you start to pump your fingers with purpose, seeking release as if your life depended on it.
You’re so pent up that it doesn’t take long before you start to feel your pussy constricting around your digits, and you can sense your sanity drifting away the closer you get — making you thoughtlessly drop your hand from your mouth.
“Fuck” you moan, curving your digits to seek your g-spot “Taehyung!”
“I’m here!”
It takes longer than it probably should for you to understand that no, you didn’t just imagine his voice replying to you — but realization does hit you eventually, and you snap your eyes wide open.
You take your soaked fingers away from your center, opening your legs as your head lifts from the pillow to find Taehyung, not imagined — although dreamy — with his back turned to you on the threshold.
“Oh my god” you whisper, desperation lacing your tone as you rush to cover yourself, even if he can’t see you “oh my god, shit, I’m…”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, voice strained. “I just… I came to— I’ll go now.” He stutters, and the next second he is out of your room, closing the door behind him.
Your body doesn’t move for the next ten minutes at least, and you have to gather all of your self respect to cast away the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming shame consuming you.
Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy.
Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy, moaning his fucking name.
And you didn’t even get to cum.
Is it too dramatic to pack your things and drive back?
People change universities all the time, right? Maybe you can find a nice Literature program in another city, move the fuck away from Taehyung to never have to see his face again.
Deep breaths.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Get your shit together, you’re not a spoiled white young man. You have to face your shit. You have to apologize.
In.
Out.
You slip out of bed, putting on sweatpants and a shirt over your sweaty skin, feeling warm all over. You walk to the door, testing different sentences as you let your head thump against the thick wood. How could you forget to lock this shit? You’re never ever getting drunk again.
Your steps are hesitant as you make your way across the hall, rehearsing a weird apology in your head as you try to build momentum — all in vain, because as soon as you see him, sitting on the floor and looking at the gift in his hands as if it has just spoken to him, your body tenses up and every possibility of courage evades you.
The experience is almost humbling, because you finally understand why he ran away all those months ago instead of facing you. Fuck being the bigger man, you’re gonna pretend as if nothing happened.
Taehyung acknowledges you when you step closer, coming to a stop near him with your hands shaking behind your back. You regret not washing your face before leaving your room, because you can only imagine how disheveled you look right now: embarrassed and sexually frustrated. You’re feeling so hot that for a second you wonder if you can actually melt.
His face doesn’t betray any emotion. If you squint, you can find what looks like confusion in his gaze, but you don’t level his eyes for enough time to assess it.
“I figured we could open up the presents we got.” He states, simply, as if he didn’t just catch you masturbating. You blink, setting your lips in a thin line. You know what? Fuck it. You drop to his side, crossing your legs and keeping your eyes on the gift Soojin bought you and feeling your face burning with his attention. “Let’s open them together. That’s… uhm, that’s how me and my siblings do it.” He instructs, and you nod, but as you both busy yourselves with the wrappings it’s clear from the clumsiness of your actions that your minds are clearly somewhere else.
You peel off the covers of a black paper box, and absentmindedly open the lid, baring its content to both of you.
“Fuck” you hear Taehyung choke under his breath when his gaze falls on your gift, completely forgetting the Céline pants Jungkook got him.
You see, Soojin is a strong advocate for self love and all of her presents always involve some kind of weird liberal feminist agenda to help you girlboss your way through life. So, when she started to randomly ask for your clothing size, you were sure she was gonna buy you some of those weird shirts with a corny quote like Happy, Unbothered, Disciplined and Growing (all things you couldn’t relate too, but would undoubtedly sport in the name of friendship).
You should have suspected, though, when she went through your underwear drawer, but she did seem genuine when she said she just wanted to do your laundry for you.
Well, people surprise you, apparently.
And it’s fair to say you are pretty fucking surprise as you look at the black lace lingerie set in front of you, with a little hope this helps you break your dryspell 😘 note on top of it — the icing on the fucking cake.
You almost want to laugh, the heat in your face becoming unbearable as you quickly reach for the lid to cover the gift up, trembling hands making a poor work to hide your embarrassment.
Forget changing universities. What about a different fucking country?
All moving plans are cleared from your mind when you hear your name. Said in a voice so deep you actually take a while to process it came from Taehyung, and a shiver runs down your spine when you halt your hands, leaving the box half open.
“I’m gonna ask you a question.” He starts, and he sounds so serious you’re suddenly scared of looking up. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be as clear as possible, because that’s the only way I’ll understand.”
You gulp, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you nod.
“Why did you say my name?”
Your breath hitches on your throat, and you assume it’s because you expected anything but that question that you raise your head — regretting it immediately, because you don’t meet the familiar soft and kind eyes that you’ve grown accustomed to these past two days. Rather, in its place, you find a dark shade of desire burning through you, enhancing your every sense when he darts his tongue along the seam of his mouth.
“You do that a lot, you know.” You huff out a laugh. “Lick your lips. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”
When he repeats your name this time, he sounds almost angry, and that prompts you to admit.
“I said your name because I want you to fuck me, Taehyung.”
He immediately shuts his eyes, and a deep exhale passes his lips before he opens them again. Every inquiry, every doubt has left his eyes when he unabashedly smirks.
“Then what about you try this on, princess. Let’s see if it fits.”
When you step back into the living room you can already feel the anticipation pooling at your brand new panties. You can't help feeling kinda uneasy, so exposed while he's still fully clothed, but when his eyes find your lace clad form, basically eating you whole, something about his shameless attention sends a boost of confidence through you, and you’re sure you’ve never felt sexier in your life.
“Holy shit.” It comes out so quietly that you can barely hear it.
His eyes explore every inch of your skin, and you honestly thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker, but a thick layer of lust makes them so deep you might just get lost on them.
“Come here.” He commands, and you immediately comply, cutting through the space between you and relishing in the soft touch of his hands as his arms snake around your waist, pressing your chest on his.
The fabric of his hoodie is smooth against your skin, his body exuding an intoxicating warmth, leaving you dizzy, sick to be touched as you drive your own hands up his torso and around his neck.
Taehyung, on the other hand, seems to be in no rush whatsoever. His palm is hot against your lower back, pressing you against him, molding you to his figure. With his left hand, he starts to trace your body, trying to commit every inch, every mole, every scar, every expense of skin to memory, starting at your hips, darting inwards to your stomach, grazing up your chest to barely touch the valley between your breasts before his fingertip trace up the column of your neck, finding a resting place around your jaw.
“Never want to forget this body.” His breath fans across your face, and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lean in.
The way he kisses you now is vastly different from the kiss you shared last night.
Then, you two were messily trying to suffocate one another, tongues clashing together with little coordination as alcohol fueled your actions and clouded your judgment.
Now, the soft press of his mouth over yours is calculated. Sweet and deliberate, tasting you like your lips are sacred and taking his time to cherish the way your sensitive flesh feels on his. You have to gather all your self control not to bite him, not to take over, not to just groan out your frustration, and in no time you’re melting under his lead.
He gradually starts to speed up his movements, tilting your face to open your lips with his and slip his tongue inside to lick inside your mouth. Your breathing soon turns into panting as Taehyung acts become more intentional, kissing you as if his life depends on it.
You entangle your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to further deepen the kiss — and he matches your enthusiasm, lips moving relentlessly against yours, sucking on your tongue and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, bruising the skin and making sure to swallow your every sound. His hand leaves your face to find your hips, grabbing and squeezing the flesh eagerly.
Fuck, he’s such a good kisser and you’re already so turned on, you wonder if you could cum just from making out with him.
God, that'd be embarrassing.
After what feels like hours — although you think you could keep kissing him for days — Taehyung pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, recollecting his breath.
Can he feel your nipples hardening over the thin fabric of your bra? Because you can sure as fuck feel the agonizing press of his growing erection against your thigh.
He smirks.
“Can I mark you?”
“Yes, please.”
Your pleading voice seems to ignite something feral in him, because when he latches on to your jaw his kisses are nothing short of hungry. He drags his tongue along your cheek, before making sure his mouth acknowledges every spot of your throat, licking, sucking and biting all over your skin.
You can feel him smiling against your neck when your soft, quiet gasps turn into full on whimpers.
“Shit” you exhale, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it.
The moan that he graces you with makes your eyes roll back in delight. A shiver runs down your spine at the way he shamelessly grinds your hips on his crotch.
He pulls away, hair completely tousled, golden skin darker as he admires the blossoming colors on your neck, painted by his skilled lips. His eyes fall to your panting chest next, and he takes his hand there, enveloping one of your tits and squeezing it not nearly hard enough.
“Fuck, this shit looks amazing on you, but I kinda wanna rip it with my teeth.”
“Don't you dare ruin it, I literally just got it.”
He quirks his eyebrow, and his hand leaves your tits, tracing down your belly and reaching to cup you over your panties. Your hips jolt with the contact and Taehyung chuckles, the cockiest smirk settling on his face.
“Think you’ve already ruined it.” He groans. “God, you're really fucking wet and I've barely done anything.”
“You're hard too. I've done even less.” Your teasing is that much less effective when his fingers are ghosting up and down your pussy.
Taehyung chuckles. His hand rises to the hem of your underwear, grazing the skin below it with tortuous patience, making you clutch his hair even harder. He's sure going bald by the end of this.
“You must be so fucking messy after this morning.” He hums to himself, and you nod. “Did you get to cum?”
“No.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” His hand thread down again, tracing your folds over the lace. “Do you want to cum, baby?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Do you want me to make you cum?”
“Yes, Tae. Please.”
He clicks his tongue.
“Now, that’s just a shame.” He slightly slaps your pussy, making you jolt in his hold and then completely takes his hand away. “Because only good girls get to cum, princess, and you’ve been such a bad girl to me these past days, so damn mean. What makes you think you deserve a present?”
Jesus Christ, if this man doesn't let you cum you're gonna seriously kill him.
“No, I promise I can be a good girl for you, baby, please” he's about to say something else when you drop to your knees, effectively shutting him up. “Let me make it up for you. Show you how good I can be.”
You try to get closer to his legs, but the movements make you wince when your knees scratch against the hard floor. You look around for something to place below your legs, but Taehyung quickly catches on.
“Here” you lift your head just in time to see him pulling his hoodie above his head, revealing his long, toned torso, golden skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and just begging for you to lick and suck some marks up his stomach.
You're so entranced by his chest, that you take a second to understand he's giving you his clothing, and you don't give it much thought before placing it under your legs. The relief is immediate.
“Thanks.”
He doesn't answer when your hands spread over his strong thighs, creeping up his leg to his crotch. The hardness of his cock under your palm makes you lick your lips, and you squeeze him, eliciting a sigh out of him. You hook your hands on his waistband, not wasting another second before pulling both his sweatpants and underwear down his legs.
The sight of him almost makes you choke. He's big. So fucking big and thick, but also the prettiest fucking dick you've ever seen and the realization makes you just as frustrated as it makes you wetter. His tip is engorged, flushing dark as a bead of precum accumulates at the crown. God, what a fucking sight to behold. You admire it for a second, mouth watering as you anticipate its weight on your tongue.
“Look so damn beautiful like that, baby.” He praises, hand coming down to wrap around the base of his length. “Wanna suck me?”
“Yes.”
“Go on then.” He pumps himself. “Suck my cock like a good girl.”
You promptly open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and welcoming the weight of his member with a loud moan. You suck his slit, tasting the salty precum with a satisfied hum before licking up his length. You glisten him with your saliva before flicking your thumb over his tip, teasing him and making Taehyung gulp above you.
“You’re so big,” you whine, and he twitches “so fucking sensitive too.”
You alternate between long and short licks, soaking him and coaxing sweet hisses out of his mouth. Your fingers rub his crown, and you wrap your lips around it to give it a dainty suck.
“Look at me” you command, smiling when he does — a large, loving smile before you take his tip closer to your lips and let your spit fall on his cock, spreading it all over his length.
“Holy fuck” he shudders, a long elongated groan passing his parted lips “so fucking hot.”
Pride fills your face as you dive to kiss at his base, palm diligently working on his tip. After some minutes of thorough, but tame motions, Taehyung finally caves in, tone laced in exasperation. “Stop teasing, princess” you can feel your panties sticking to your pussy “do something already.”
“But I’m giving you so much already.” You pout.
“No, no—” his groan is nothing but frustrated “c’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me?”
“Ain’t this good?” You smirk, hand still leisurely stroking his now painfully hard cock.
“You’re so mean.”
“Really? Then I should just stop.” You pause your hand, and Taehyung’s hips jolt.
“Baby” his tone is a warning, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game here, one that’ll definitely bite you in the ass later, but fuck it. It's already so worth it just to see the way his thighs clench and his gaze burns through you.
“You want me to suck you?” You lick your lips slowly, directing his impatient eyes to your tongue.
“Yes, princess.”
“Then why don’t you beg for me, Tae? Ask me real nice and I’ll think about it.”
He chuckles.
Actually chuckles in a weird, choked way, but the ferocity that clouds his eyes only makes you that much more horny. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t fucking care, or — if the throabbing of his dick is anything to go by — maybe he’s just too hard to think properly, but when he opens his mouth again is to grant you the sweetest fucking words you’ve ever heard.
“Please, princess. Be a good girl for me and suck my cock. Make me proud.” You grin.
“With pleasure.”
And you do it, because god knows how much you want it too.
If your pace was teasing, insufficient before, now Taehyung feels on the verge of passing out with the way you sink his length inside the heat of your mouth. The second you take to adjust to the stretch is not nearly enough for him to adjust to the devastating pleasure that you elicit on him, and Taehyung just instantly knows he'll lose his mind when your head starts moving up and down his dick with finality.
“That’s it baby, so fucking good.” He growls, bewitched by the way his cock disappears inside your mouth, mind blanking when you start to hollow your cheeks.
Every little sigh, every breathy moan and especially his strained praises just spur you on, encouraging you to take more and more of him with each passing, relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. The noises filling the living room are anything but decent, but the vulgarity of it just makes it even more delicious.
“Sucking me so well” when you glance up, you can’t help but moan at how fucked out Taehyung looks. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with bliss while sweat collects on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his glowing skin as he swallows. You release him with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip as you try to catch your breath — hands not stopping. Taehyung’s thumb finds your chin, and you lick your mouth clean “You’re sexy as fuck.”
You take two seconds to make a decision.
“Want you to cum in my throat.”
He looks at you as if you just punched him.
“You want my cum?”
“Want all you’re willing to give me.” And it's true. “Can you do that for me?”
“Fuck yes, baby. Wanna paint that sweet fucking throat of yours.”
You smile up to him, and when your attention returns to his cock you make sure to trace every inch, every vein with your tongue, making it as slippery as possible.
Taking a deep breath, you bring him to your lips again, letting your tongue lay flat under his length as you begin to push it further down your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you try to control your gagging and relax your jaw to better accommodate him — and also to not suffocate or something.
“You have no idea how hot you look right now.” But you kinda do, though, if the way he throbs inside you and his knees slightly tremble is any indication.
You start to slowly stretch your throat with him, and Taehyung’s overwhelmed expression is enough to make you deeply moan. His hips jolt at the vibration, making you choke.
“Shit, sorry” he backtracks, helping you recover before you’re guiding him inside again.
When your nose brushes the skin of his stomach, you know you’re not gonna be able to hold in for much longer, and you need him to cum soon, so you push through the discomfort, the tears and the way you just know your throat is gonna be sore as fuck after this, and swallow.
“Ju–just like that, that’s it” he stutters, “I'm close.”
You resume your bobbing movements, head relentless bouncing up and down his cock before you take your hands to his balls. He shudders when your light massage turns into a more thorough fondling and squeezing while you suck around him.
When you glance up at him — tear-filled eyes with nothing but lust looking up at his mesmerized ones with your mouth full of him — Taehyung’s body shudders. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure erupts on his body, and you can feel the thick stripes of cum shooting down your throat while your lips suck on his tip, milking his high as much as you can — and he cums so much that you struggle to swallow it all. When he removes his cock from your mouth, sucked dry, he’s still jolting with sensitivity.
“Jesus fuck” he closes his eyes tightly, trying to ground himself. You clear your throat, licking around your mouth to collect any left juices. “You’re unreal.”
He grabs your chin.
“Let me see.” You open your mouth, tongue sticking out to show him no traces of his orgasm. “Such a good girl.”
He then grabs your forearms, pulling you to your feet.
Taehyung gives you no time to stabilize yourself before his lips are on yours, but it’s only after he secures your wobbling form in a tight, strong embrace that you’re able to kiss him back. Your fingers trace up and down his biceps with as much languidness as he makes out with you with. And it surprises you, because you can’t possibly taste good right now, but his lips are so soft that you don’t even protest, thankful for the unhurried touch.
When he breaks the kiss, it’s to pull you into a hug — full on giggling into your ear.
“Fucking thank you.”
You laugh.
“You thanking me for a blowjob?”
Neither of you care about how hoarse your voice sounds, but you clear your throat to try and soothe some of the roughness nevertheless.
“Hell yeah, your mouth is amazing. Feel like you just sucked me stupid.”
You laugh even harder.
“Nah, I feel like you were already pretty stupid before that.”
His chuckle tickles your ear, leaning his head so his lips touch your shoulder.
“Oh. You completely ruined my hoodie, by the way.”
“What?” You pull away from him in an instant. Gaze falling to his clothes on your feet — and the new wet patch that tinges the gray fabric darker. Your eyes widen in mild panic. “Shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'll—”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, you should be sorry. How dare you get horny from sucking my dick, that's just unacceptable.” You pause, face still hot when Taehyung pulls you back to him, guiding his hands between your legs. The pad of his fingers ghost over your pussy, feeling all your arousal through the damp lace. “God, look at that.” He taunts, and his fingers rise to hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them up and pressing the fabric up your skin. He clicks his tongue. “This must be so uncomfortable.”
“Mhmm” you nod, tightening your grip on his arms.
“What do you say, baby? Think you deserve a present now?”
“Yes.” You sigh when he pulls your underwear even higher.
“No, no, baby. How do we say?”
“Pretty please?” You pout and he grins.
“Uhm, now that's better.”
And then he's kissing you again — but gone is the softness of his lips, now hungrily moving against yours. His hands find your ass, gripping and kneading you to his liking.
The way he shifts from shy-smiling-face-surrounded-by-hearts emoji to smirking-devil emoji is sure to make you lose your mind — and you can't fucking wait.
As you two stumble to your room, you make sure to not leave any inch of his golden skin unattended: bruising up his neck like he did yours, tugging on his hair and running your palms all over his body. Taehyung guides you past your threshold, handling you with care until the back of your knees hits the bed. He hurries you on top of it, promptly falling above you.
“You're so hot” he breathes, lips following the path between your breasts, “the hottest girl I’ve even fucking seen.” He sounds almost angry.
You’re panting as he kisses down your stomach, body squirming in anticipation — gasping when he hoists you closer to the headboard.
“Damn, princess, you’re so desperate.” He chuckles, sucking a hickey onto your hips. “Pussy must be begging for some good fucking.”
“Yes,” you sigh “want you so fucking bad.”
His smirk is devilish, lips hovering down your skin until they're just above your aching core. You raise your hips, trying to get closer to his face, but he easily avoids you.
“Tae,” you whine. “Please.”
“You wanna cum, baby?” You nod eagerly, and he shakes his head, slapping the side of your thigh. “Words.”
“Yes! Fuck, I wan— I need to cum.”
“Good.” And just like that, he is gone, sitting back on his heels.
You grunt.
“Taehyung, I'm not above murder, you should know.”
He laughs, hands coming down to your ankles and pushing them apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to your pussy — or, rather, to your arousal soaking through your panties.
“You're so wet, baby. Feel like you can cum just if I look at you nice enough.”
“Taehyung” you glare, but your voice is too shaky to hold any power against him.
“I want you to show me.” He says, and the instant confusion on your face prompts a sheepish smile on his own. “How.” He clarifies, massaging your calves. “Want you to finish what you started this morning.”
The prospect of teaching him how to please you makes you warm all over, and if you weren't so distressed you might deny it, ask for his tongue or his fingers — but you are desperate, and no one can make you cum faster than yourself. So your hands jump to the sides of your panties, already pushing them down when Taehyung’s hands stop you.
“Want them on.”
“Kinky” you tease, earning a dramatic eye roll.
You hook a finger around the center of the fabric and push it aside.
Taehyung’s gaze grows darker when you expose your bare pussy, and he slowly licks his lips. His feasting eyes are entranced by the way your arousal drips down your folds, slicking you all the way down to your ass. He swallows thickly, hands pushing your legs further apart.
You don’t give him enough time to bask at the sight, though, because your fingers find your entrance immediately after, spreading your juices around before coming up to circle your clit.
The well-deserved, but so fucking delayed attention making your his jolt. Not wasting any second, you hurriedly roll your fingers, closing your eyes to focus on your precise, familiar movements.
After feeling lubricated enough, you sink two fingers inside your cunt and curl them to stroke your g-spot. Loud, wet squelching sounds fill the room, but you can still hear Taehyung’s ragged breathing above you; his soft grunts encouraging you as you keep fingering yourself, whispering sweet nothings to you. He tells you how pretty you look, how good you are for him, how hot you look when you’re knuckles deep inside your dripping pussy. You take your free hand to your tits, pushing them out of their confinements to twist and pinch your nipples.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby, look at that” his voice is thick with lust, “such a filthy girl.”
His words tighten the knot in your stomach.
“I–I bet I’ll take your cock so well.”
“Yeah? Fuck, I can’t wait to stretch you, princess.” When you open his eyes, you almost cum just from Taehyung’s all-consuming gaze alone, completely hypnotized by the way your fingers disappear inside your cunt.
“My thighs,” it comes out so quietly that you force yourself to speak again, “grab my thighs.”
Taehyung takes a second to process your words, but then his hands are on you. Massaging, gripping, pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with such enthusiasm that will surely leave bruises there too. The added stimulation makes you arch your spine off the bed, eyes rolling back as you can feel more arousal soaking through your fingers.
“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna make me all hard again.” He moans, and his movements pause for a split second before he asks: “are you close, baby?”
Your legs start to tremble, and every hit to your g-spot makes you whimper.
“Yeah” you breathe, barely registering his words at this point.
“Look at me.” He commands, and you do. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”
“Yes.”
“Wanna make me proud?”
“Yes!” You scream, tears blurring your vision — but his next words make your whole body stiffen.
“Then stop.”
You don’t. You can’t. But your fingers do lose momentum.
“What?”
“Stop.” And a slow smirk creeps up his face as yours scrunches up in hazed confusion. “You’re not cumming until I want you to.”
When you fully realize what he’s asking you, your orgasm has already been washed far out of reach. You shudder as your fingers leave your pussy, the tears collected from the pleasure roll down as frustration, but when you open your mouth to complain, Taehyung slots himself between your parted legs. His hair tickles your thighs as he pushes your underwear aside and suddenly licks up your cunt, tongue gathering all the arousal from your folds before his lips close around your clit, sucking hard.
The unexpected stimulation makes your hips jut, shuddering so violently that Taehyung pulls away, chuckling lightly as confusion coats his expression.
“Did you just cum?”
“No!” You whine. “I just… I want to cum so bad, I was so, so goddamn close and now I’m just sensitive as fuck.”
He gives your clit an experimental kiss and you grunt, hands fisting the sheets.
“Shit” he smiles, “that’s just too bad.”
Your head snaps up.
“What… what you mean?”
“You teased the shit out of me before, sweetheart. I’m still deciding if I’ll let you cum.”
“Taehyung,” you sob, “if I don’t cum soon I think I’ll legitimately die.”
“Poor thing.” He mocks.
“I’m so serious right now, please don’t do that.”
Another kiss to your swollen pussy.
“Then fucking beg, princess.”
Well, that you can do.
“Baby, please” you sigh “please, I’m so sorry for teasing you, just–just please make me cum. Let me cum, please.”
He chuckles.
“As you wish.”
He swiftly pulls your damp panties down your legs, tossing it on the floor behind him, and then his warm tongue meets your pussy again. This time, though, you swear Taehyung is trying to fucking suffocate himself on you. He flicks your clit the same way your fingers did, skillfully twisting it and eating you out with devotion — and you sure feel worshiped. Worshiped by the way he moans, enjoying it as much as you; by the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and licks your dripping juices; but also by the way he grabs your thighs, long fingers massaging and digging on the flesh.
The stimulation is so hard and you’re so pent up, that it doesn’t take longer than five minutes of him thoroughly eating your pussy for you to start to feel your orgasm slowly building up on your body again.
“That’s it, Tae, fu–fuck” you cry out “eating me out so good, just like that.”
You’re basically grinding on his face now, and he flattens his tongue to encourage you to ride him as you please.
“Taste so fucking sweet” he hums. “Should’ve had this for Christmas dinner.”
Your chuckle is shaken when Taehyung plunges one of his fingers inside your walls, stroking you gradually to stretch you up.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He mutters. “Do you want my cock?” You nod, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t appreciate it, humming against you. “Tell me.”
“I–I want… want your cock.”
“Wanna give it to you, baby, but I’ll need you to relax for me. Let me stretch you.”
And you certainly try, but you feel so tense, so desperate to cum that you can’t seem to find your breath.
“That’s–that’s your fucking fault!” You hiss when he finally starts to thrust his fingers faster. “Edging the— nghh, fuck outta me.”
He smiles against your pussy, but says nothing when he slowly introduces a second finger. His movements are precise, careful not to hurt you but determined as he scissors you open, slowing down for you to adjust every time you flinch or so much as goes silent above him. He also changes the pace of his mouth to try and help loosen you up, and holy fuck, you don’t think you have the capacity of imagining such sweet, toe-curling oral, not even in your filthiest, most unrealistic dreams.
When he works you up to three fingers, Taehyung has to pin you down with his free hand to stop you from lifting your hips.
“Shit! Feels so–so fucking good” you whimper.
“Grab my hair.” And you do, hand releasing the sheets to push his sweaty locks away from his view, and the intensity of his eyes on yours almost makes you feel more naked somehow.
“Jesus fu— nghh”.
Taehyung now fingers you at a relentless pace, and the skill with which he does it — angling his fingers to hit your g-spot, reaching for different sensitive areas and making your walls clench around him — is almost overwhelming.
Your legs quiver, threatening to close around his face.
“Close?”
You’re kinda scared to answer, but it’s not like you can hide it anyway.
“I’m so close! Please, Tae, let me–let me cum!”
The pleasure running through your body is so intense you feel like you could actually pass out if he denies yet another orgasm, and he can surely feel your anguish as you start to chase his face, chuckling lightly before finally saying the sweet words, “Then cum for me, princess. Cum all over my face.”
The orgasm that he coaxes out of you is maddening. Your mind blanks as your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers — which continue to thrust into, prolonging your pleasure. Your whole body shudders, toes curling with everlasting bliss, but you are surprisingly able to keep your eyes open. The sight of him, between your legs, eating you out through your high and making sure to collect every bit of your sweet release on his warm tongue is almost enough to make you cum again.
When you finally come down, refamiliarizing yourself with the whole concept of breathing, Taehyung is looking at you as if you’re sin incarnated, a loose smile on his lips. You feel so spent, but suddenly so impatient too.
“Want you to fuck me.” It’s the first thing you say after your head stops spinning.
He laughs.
“Barely took my fingers out and you’re already asking for more, damn.” He peppers your thighs with soft, soothing kisses. “Pussy so fucking greedy.”
“I want you so bad.” Your voice is so small, so quiet. You swallow dry.
“I want you to, baby.” He comes up to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours in such a sloppy, lazy way that you can’t help but smile, ignoring the taste of your cum lingering on his mouth. “You made me so hard again, fuck.”
Taehyung grabs your thighs and hooks them around his waist. He takes his fingers to your pussy again, smearing some of your release around to better slicken you up. After deeming you lubricated enough, he guides his dick to your cunt. He drags his tip along your dripping folds, and your breath hitches.
“Fuck, you’re soaking my cock.” He grins. “Who got you this wet, baby?”
“Taehyung,” you sigh, heels pressing down on his lower back, “don’t you dare tease me again.”
“Then answer the question.” He rolls his hips harder over yours, rubbing your clit. “‘Cus I can be pretty fucking patient.”
“Fuck you.”
“I let you cum one time and you’re already talking back again.” He clicks his tongue. “One more chance, baby. Who got this pussy so… fucking… wet?” He punctuates every word with a slap of his cock against your cunt, and you gasp each time, digging your fingers on his back.
“Ungh, fuck, yo–you! Shit, you did, Tae.”
“I made you cum so fucking hard, didn’t I?” He smirks, and your hips jump slightly.
“The hardest” you whimper.
Taehyung’s so fucking glad you gave in this fast — because there’s only so much time he could endure teasing you while being desperate as fuck to feel the warmth of your cunt, to feel you wrapping around his cock the way you did around his fingers. With a deep exhale, he shifts to position his dick at your entrance.
“How do you want it?”
“Rough.” You don’t hesitate.
“Rough? Want me to be rough with you, princess?” Taehyung feels dizzy.
“Yes, please.”
“Yeah? Wanna be fucked like a slut?”
The shiver that runs through your body could’ve been enough of an answer, but you still grant him a breathy confirmation: “Yes, Tae. Want you to fuck me dumb.”
His eyes flutter shut, and, with his last thread of sanity, Taehyung starts to slowly press his dick inside of you.
He is right. You are soaked. But he’s still the biggest cock you’ve ever had. So, despite his attentive fingering and the insane orgasm he just gave you, your face still translates your discomfort as he stretches you up. Taehyung follows your cues, stopping whenever you wince and shallowly thrusting to ease you to his size, letting you adjust before moving deeper.
When his hips finally — finally — are flush against yours, you both exhale shakily.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He digs his fingers in the flesh of your thigh. “You good? Does it hurt?”
“No… just,” you exhale deeply, “gimme a second.”
While you focus on accommodating his size, Taehyung clears his throat.
“I uh, wanted to ask you something.” You notice the subtle distress in his voice, and the gaze you find when you open your eyes is filled with concern. “And be real with me.” You frown, expression slowly matching his.
“... yeah?”
He hesitates, eyes darting away from you.
“Are you… like, actually into furry?”
You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking when you bring your hands to cover your face. Taehyung’s chuckles are unsure when he joins you, flinching when your body trembles slightly.
“Be honest!”
“Fuck you, Tae, honestly. You’re balls deep inside of me seriously asking me this shit.”
“I mean, I can’t grow a beard for my life, but we can figure something out if—”
“Oh god, stop! I do not have a furry kink, Jesus.”
“Thank god!” He sighs. “Was really worried for a second.” Your laughter prompts a smile on his face, and he lowers his face to give you a quick peck on your lips.
“You can move now, by the way.”
“You sure?” You nod, pulling him closer.
“Let’s get on to fucking.”
He frowns.
“Damn, you gotta work on your dirty talk.”
“What? You were just talking about furry.”
“It’s different.” He huffs. “I’ll give you one more chance.”
You roll your eyes.
“Go on, baby, rock my world.”
He chuckles.
“C’mon, that’s not doing anything for me here.”
At that comment, you shift and clench around his cock. His hips buck, reaching even deeper. You pout.
“You seem pretty hard for me.” You hiss when he smacks the side of your thigh.
“You’re such a brat.”
“Just fuck me already.” You brows knit together, and you flicker your eyes down to where your bodies meet, licking your lips. “Please, Tae.”
“You see? That’s way better.”
And fuck you he does.
When Taehyung pushes himself out of you, leaving just the tip, you barely have time to breathe before he’s slamming back inside.
The feeling of his skin dragging against your velvet walls has your mind immediately blanking, head falling back on the pillow.
The ease with which he finds a pace makes you melt under him. You’re already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all his stupid teasing that you just know this will set a pathetic low time record, but you don’t fucking care. You deserve to feel this fucking good, and Taehyung seems to know that too, because despite the struggle it is to keep his eyes open — the desire to shut them and focus on the delicious feeling of your warm pussy squeezing his cock almost unbearable — his gaze is still trained in your face. In the way you bite your lip, or release it in a silent moan when he gets the angle just right; the way your brows knit together in bliss, or arch to your hairline with a particular hard thrust; or, yet, in the way your hold on him turns almost painful, sure to leave him bruised in the sweetest possible way, whenever he leans over you and brushes your clit.
Taehyung is a slow learner — but he learns, and he won’t close his fucking eyes until he identifies how to unwind you, how to fuck you so good he’ll ruin every other dick for you. And he seems to find it when, after a swift change in his angle, you let out a loud, tortuous scream under him, sending a large, proud smirk to his face.
“That’s it–that’s— nghh, fuck, baby, there!” You cry out, lifting your hips off the bed to try and create even more contact as his cock hits your g-spot.
“You feel so good” feral grunts spill from his mouth as he lets his eyes fall shut, “squeezing my cock so fucking tight” he groans.
Taehyung has never felt more grounded, more present. The slapping sounds, your cries, his grunts, everything is so fucking vulgar. The way the soft flesh of your thighs mold under his palm, the way he fills you to the brim every fucking time is good enough proof that this is real, that this breathtaking pleasure is real, and that Taehyung is really fucking you.
“Been… wanting to–to fuck you for so long.” He pants.
You arch your spine off the bed, chest pressing on his.
“Holy fuck.”
“God, can’t believe this is happening.” He growls.
Your senses, on the other hand, are clouded by the feeling of his cock splitting you, fucking your body senseless and pounding into you like a man on a mission. His size, his girth, the way he twitches inside of you, making your walls even sloppier… he’ll be the end of you. You never wanted to please someone more, especially after having his mouth on you, and you can feel your control gradually slipping away every time he fills you up, reality a distant idea as he fucks you closer to euphoria. And god, you’re so fucking close.
“Yes! Yes, baby, that–that’s it” you sob, hands fisting the sheets so tightly that — if you were thinking properly — you'd be afraid of ripping it.
“God, you're… nghhn— fuck, you feel so good.” He gasps. “Are you close?”
“So fucking close.” You barely acknowledge the words leaving you, the knot in your stomach about to snap.
At your words, Taehyung’s hand leaves your thighs to reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall somewhere in the room. He leans over you, mouth immediately closing around your left nipple, while his large fingers twist and roll the right one. You arch into his touch, sighing when his tongue swirls around your nipple.
“The most perfect tits…” he hums, glazing your chest in his spit as he seeks the other with wet kisses.
“Tae” you moan, hands entangling in his hair and pulling hard, prompting him to give your nipple a light, barely there bite, but it’s enough to make your hips shake under him. “Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna cum.”
“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cream my cock like a good girl.” He moans, words slurred as he lifts his gaze to you.
Your body starts to shudder violently as he pushes another orgasm out of you. Your legs quiver around his waist and your pussy clenches tightly, shoving a deep, guttural groan from Taehyung’s throat while your mind spirals, washing away any thoughts as his name falls lazily from your lips.
It takes a solid minute before you start to think again, body still rocking with his thrusts as he keeps chasing his own release high. You wince at the overstimulation.
“Tae” you whine, fingers digging into his back.
“C’mon, baby, ain’t this what you wanted?” He slows his pace before grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulder, thighs firmly pressing on his chest. He sinks his cock deep inside of you with each snap of his hips, and you’re immediately gasping for air. “Didn’t you wanna be fucked like a slut?”
“Nghh” god, how is he so fucking good at this.
“You wanted to be fucked dumb. Wasn't it?” You eagerly nod, words evading you. “Then give me one more.” He breathes. “Let me see that pretty face again.”
Taehyung’s not slow, nor gentle this time. Your previous orgasms make his strokes that much easier, more delicious. Loud wet, squelching sounds fall from where your bodies meet.
“Fuuuck— pussy so fucking good.” His praise shoots straight to your core.
As naturally as before, he falls into a rhythm, slamming inside of you. Your head falls back on the pillow, dazed as the position makes him feel even girthier, bigger inside your sensitive walls, rendering you completely unable to form a single thought that isn’t his dick pistoning inside. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of you, grazing your g-spot in a way that has you gasping for air.
The slapping sounds of his skin on yours are sinful, and you take your hands to your tits, slicked with his spit, fondling with them to add to the ever growing bliss.
He wants to keep saying shit, spill the filthiest fucking stuff just the way he notices that makes you wetter around his cock — but the closer he gets, less can he think properly, his filter completely dissolving.
“Wanna fuck you forever. Watch you cum for days.”
And fuck if that isn’t enticing as fuck for you too.
Your legs get a bit sore from their bent position, but you wouldn’t mind having him fold you half if it meant getting to see Taehyung’s brows knitting together, lips falling apart in silent delight.
“So-so… good… fucking me so good.” Your voice is muffled by the hard banging of the headboard against the wall.
“Shit. I’m close.” You nod. “Where do you want me to—”
“Inside” you interrupt, answer spilling from your lips.
He brokenly moans, mind blanking as his resolve quickly slips away. Thrusting impossibly harder, pouding impossibly faster, Taehyung fucks you eager to fullfil your request.
You already feel ready to cum again, an odd pressure weighing down on your lower belly. Your mouth falls open, whispering, or rather, mumbling sweet nothings or muddled filth to him — unsure if he's even listening — as pleasure clouds your mind to the point of incoherence.
“Taking me so fucking well, pussy made for my cock.”
Taehyung takes his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he starts to rub it, pressing and circling it with the pad of his fingers as a hard, unannounced orgasm crashes over you. You’re unable to keep still when every nerve of your body jolts with electricity, overstimulation making you lift your back from the bed as a loud scream rips through your throat.
The pleasure that overtakes you blanks your mind, and for a second you feel like you can't stop cumming. Taehyung sounds so distant, and you feel so high, so heavenly, that you almost think you're dreaming the whole thing.
“— all over me.” Is the first thing you hear when your mind starts to clear and your body slowly calms down.
“Huh?”
You wince as Taehyung keeps fucking into you, pace now careless as he gets close to release, and you tighten your gasp on his arms, fighting through the oversensitivity.
“You just fucking squirted all over me.” You blink at his words, taking a full minute to process them before your head is snapping up in alarm.
Everything is so wet, so sloppy and messy, but before you can say anything — before embarrassment can even reach your skin — Taehyung's body is shaking above you.
“Shit, shit, shit—” He shudders. “I’m cumming.”
His groans are deep as you feel his hot release painting your walls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist, hips jolting with the waves of his pleasure as he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the overwhelming thrill running through his body. He feels so alight, as if he's just been set on fire, and every inch of him burns with bliss.
“Jesus fuck.”
A lazy smile spreads on your face when he kisses your calves, gently pushing them to rest on the bed. He crashes on top of you, frantic breathing cooling the sweaty skin of your chest.
“I've also…” you gulp, closing your eyes, “also been wanting this for so long, by the way.”
You feel him smiling against your skin.
“Damn. I’m so happy I might just puke.”
Your body shakes in laughter.
“God, you’re so annoying.” You pinch his side and he squirms, chuckling before tilting his head to face you.
“I kinda get the Jungkook now, though.” You frown, and he opens a large, boxy smile. “I fucking love Soojin. Best gift ever.”
You giggle, heat creeping up your neck.
“Ugh, get off me.” You push him away, and Taehyung shifts on the bed, hovering over you.
He pulls his softening cock out of your swollen pussy, and you can see his eyes glimmering before his fingers are spreading your folds apart.
“Shit” he hisses, and you can feel the wet mix of his cum and your own release dripping down your folds. Taehyung doesn’t give you any warning before he’s diving down, licking you clean with a swipe of his tongue and making you shudder. He closes his eyes, humming as he swallows everything. After that, he moves to step out of bed, uttering a quick “hold up” before he’s out of the room.
You can hear some cabinets and drawers opening before he’s back, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He proceeds to clean you up with the softest, more tender touches possible, mindful of your sensitivity and halting his movements whenever you flinch, while you soothe your raspy throat.
“You might need to sleep with me tonight.” You frown. “You made such a fucking mess. Sheets are ruined.”
You scoff.
“And who’s fault is that?”
He smirks.
“Sorry I fucked you so good.” You giggle, covering your face when you feel your cheeks warming up.
“So annoying.”
Jungkook loves Taehyung. They’ve been friends for ten years now and — although there have been days — Jungkook would never change anything about his friend.
…
Maybe make him a bit less murderous in the kitchen. But besides? Taehyung is perfect.
…
Okay, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect, and Taehyung did tell a younger, inexperienced and quite stupid Jungkook that girls get hot when you touch the back of their knees. Not to mention that time when Taehyung dragged Jungkook to a regency costume party — a ridiculous one at that: how is a vampire not a historical costume? He was fucking hot with those red lenses, putting Robert Pattinson to shame with that glitter body spray.
Anyway, the point is: he loves and cherishes Taehyung, especially the sweet fucking body lotions this guy uses (fuck, he smells good). And he knows Taehyung too. He knows Taehyung better than anyone in the world, probably better than Taehyung himself. And that’s why he knows, the second Soojin confesses what she got you for Christmas, that Taehyung isn’t gonna deal well with it.
“For the last time, babe,” Soojin explains, “a woman should never be ashamed of wanting to feel sexy. You men keep making us feel vulgar about our sexual lives, and create all this taboo about our bodies. No wonder why we hate ourselves. In fact, did you know that—”
“Soojin,” Jungkook sighs, pulling their bags out of the uber’s trunk, “I’m just saying that maybe, maybe, you could’ve given her a heads up not to open the gift with Taehyung… they’re probably super awkward already and a fucking lingerie set won’t help.”
Soojin huffs.
“You have no faith in Taehyung.” Jungkook stops in the pathway to the chalet door, giving his girlfriend a pointed look.
“I know Taehyung, it’s different. This will either make him super self conscious about how he fucking vomited on her, or make him wanna swallow his fist because of how horny he’ll get. Either way he’ll malfunction.” Jungkook pauses. “Fucking is also an option.”
She pouts.
“But didn’t he say that they were cool?”
“Fucking is cool, but he could’ve also meant that he’s been locked in his room for three days.” Jungkook’s face twists in concern. “We’re lucky if he even got out to eat.”
“We’re lucky if they didn’t cook anything. The last thing we need is them food poisoning one another.”
“Not to worry. Taehyung knows the treatment by heart now.”
They reach the door, and Soojin grabs the keys in her purse. They’re careful as they step inside, mindful of it barely being past six in the morning, but any attempt at silence is futile when Soojin’s attention is drawn to the living room couch.
“The fuck?!” She screams, scaring Jungkook to drop down the bags.
The sharp sound makes you jump away from Taehyung’s lap, losing your balance and falling ass first on the hard floor.
The four of you freeze for a moment, sharing weird, confused looks before Taehyung’s heart finally resumes to a normal pace and he understands that no, the house isn’t being invaded and you two won’t get robbed in nothing but underwear, he can’t help but glare at his best friend.
“Jungkook why the fuck are you here?” He says, extending a hand to help you on the couch after you find your discarded shirt on the floor.
“Wow, nice to see you too, asshole.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the TV when music starts to play through its speakers, a deep frown settleting on his features. “You watching Grinch? The hell?”
Soojin turns to her boyfriend.
“Is Grinch really the most unexpected thing here?”
“Tae, did she force you to watch Grinch?” He narrows his eyes. “You know this ain’t good for you. You won’t be able to sleep.”
Taehyung groans.
“Jungkook, shut up.”
You quickly put on your pajama top, tugging it as further down as you can.
You open an awkward smile.
“Thanks for the gift, Soojin! We— uhm, I really loved it.”
note ↠ sooo, what do we think? 🥹 i hope y’all liked it! it took sO LONG to upload this omg, tumblr just wasn’t vibbing with our himbo!tae 😔 but it's here! i actually had to learn some quick html codes to edit this lol, i'm so stressed
note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated!
note³ ↠ thank you so so very much for reading it 🥹
note⁴ ↠ you can go back to navigation here
#taehyung#taehyung fanfic#taehyung smut#taehyung scenarios#taehyung x you#taehyung x reader#taehyung fic#bts#bts fic#taehyung imagine#taehyung oneshot#taehyung humor#kth fic#kth smut#kth scenarios#kth imagines#kth x you#kth x reader#luawrites#fic:snow.flower#v fanfic#v smut#v scenarios#v x you#v imagine#bangtantheatrenet#kvanity#btshoneyhive
728 notes
·
View notes
Note
can I have a shy yet a very good drawer GN!Reader who still hasn’t confessed their feelings X Law, Sanji, and Zoro?
Much platonic love And a happi day/night to you! ✨😀
a/n - awww this is so cute anon 💜💜 much love to you as well :)
Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, none
- Zoro is on the shyer side as well, so you both can enjoy some pretty comfortable silences (he’s sleeping)
- he won’t ever admit it.. but he really likes it when you just sit by him while he trains just to keep him some company
- he wouldn’t enjoy anyone else but you, you’re like a little anchor for him to remind him that someone’s always there for him
- you’re an artist, he knows that VERY well. He’s peeked at a couple of your sketches of chopper and Robin, let’s just say he’s very impatiently waiting for his
- pls you ended up sketching Sanji first and he saw that and almost crumpled it up
- didn’t want to ruin or waste your beautiful talent tho
- one day, when he was training, you saw him lifting his weights per usual, swinging his katana, as well as squat jumping and all that
- he looked- unusually perfect today (not that he didn’t before) but- his expression, as well as his figure was almost picturesque
- you started sketching almost immediately, not even knowing your hand could move that fast. You were scribbling so intensely that the lead broke several times, much to your disdain
- “Y/n can you hand me the towel.”
- ….
- “Hello?????”
- he ended up walking over there while you were entranced in your drawing, finally finishing a rough sketch of the quite beautiful “model” zoro
- he saw it and had trouble keeping his jaw from dropping
- he walked back in front of you, surprising you when he threw an eraser at your forehead to snap you out of it
- “Look, this pose is better right?”
- you closed your sketchbook almost immediately.
- oh shit, he saw it
- “make sure my biceps look big please.”
- “I’M NOT A FREELANCER.”
- Law is a man of very few words, and when he speaks they’re almost always very negative or pessimistic
- but he can never seem to say anything negative about you or else I’d beat his ass
- he knows you’re an artist, and that you mainly just like to draw in your alone time, it’s a nice private activity
- mans a stalker
- will literally find the perfect window to your room just to take a peek at your drawings
- why are they all of Bepo and not him
- EVEN SHACHI GOT A DRAWING? TF?
- stormed off like a little baby 💀
- as you can see, he doesn’t get jealous easily
- he hasn’t confessed to you, but it was extremely obvious to the entire crew…
- you two always had tea together in the morning, sat together in down time, went over plans, and even talked normally together (which he literally never does)
- but- you’re lowkey oblivious asf so you don’t pick up the cues 🥰
- you two were drinking tea together, bright and early as he read the newspaper, and you took out your sketchbook
- the rays of sun coming through the tinted windows of the polar tang lit up his tan, cool toned skin perfectly
- he didn’t have his hat on to cover any of his scraggly features. The bags under his eyes, his intense gray eyes, sharp jawline, goatee, everything about him was accentuated in the light
- you started to draw this very bigass crush of yours in the most detailed way possible
- the silence was almost too peaceful for Law, part of him wanted to initiate a normal conversation, maybe- “how are you today?” But the poor guy was too nervous to talk around you
- he peeked over your shoulder to see you furiously adding details to his drawing
- damn he looked good- did he look like that????
- man thought he was so ugly 💀
- hey maybe let’s give y/n a compliment right? That’s the normal thing to do!
- he had a tint of pink on his cheeks, and couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Why are my eye bags so big.”
- law 💀
- GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY THAT - law having and existential crisis
- Corazon be disappointed up in heaven 💀
- “because you have ginormous eyebags???”
- …
- watch him wear concealer now 😭😭😭
a/n - I loved this an ungodly amount lmao
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece hcs#anime hcs#trafalgar d water law#roronoa zoro#law one piece#law x reader#zoro#pirate hunter zoro#zoro roronoa x reader#zoro x you#zoro x reader#zoro fluff#zoro roronoa x you#one piece zoro#zoro x y/n#zoro headcanons#zoro one piece#law x y/n#law x you#one piece law#surgeon of death#trafalgar law#law op#law headcanons
709 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Feeling that Never Came
Part One: Forgetting Colombia
General Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.
Specific Warnings: Grief, heartbreak, angst, drinking (too much), vomit, crying, lots of crying, abusive behaviour, emotional abuse, canon-typical violence, coersion, phsyical abuse, racial slurs.
Masterlist Next Part -> [Read on AO3]
It’s been eight years since you left Colombia with a gaping hole in your chest, where Javier Peña had ripped out your heart, laughing at how “fucking naïve” you really were.
You’d been told that the DEA had already been questioning if you were worth the money to keep on retainer, and for the record you certainly were, but Javier forced the issue. He got you sent home, calling in one of his many favours, he ruined your career before it even had the chance to begin.
You roll over in bed, stretching your limbs like a cat basking in the ray of sunshine that streams through the blinds. You ache pleasantly from a night of unwavering attention from your boyfriend Dan, who you remind yourself is no longer your boyfriend, but your fiancée. You hold your left hand up, marvelling at the small, but beautiful diamond ring that adorns your finger and a feeling of novel excitement bubbles up in your chest.
But it’s short lived, your stomach twists with something resembling guilt, maybe even regret. You try to push away the intrusive thoughts that have plagued you since his proposal in front of his parents and your uncle last night at dinner. Apparently, they had all been in on it, eager for you two to settle down and have babies. But you hesitated before you answered him. It was only a brief second, but it was enough to plant the seed of doubt, of remorse for a life long gone. An ache that never fully healed.
“Morning, baby.” Dan says sleepily as he rolls over, smiling at you as he notices the object of your gaze. His soft blonde curls fall into his face as he shifts on the bed, motioning for you to slot against his chest. You plaster the smile back across your face, hoping he hadn’t seen how your expression had soured.
“Morning.” You say softly as you bury your face in his chest, he smells like you, like sex. You should be ecstatic, but you feel empty.
“Still can’t believe you said yes,” He whispers into your hair as he pulls you tight against him, “Luckiest man in the world.”
“Of course I said yes Dan, I love you.” You mumble into his chest, burying your head in the smell of him to try and push the negativity from your mind.
“I love you too baby,” He pulls away to look down at you, “Happy Birthday.”
You kiss his lips softly, gently teasing his lower lip into yours as he melts under your touch. You want to keep going, to go another round and push the thoughts of him out of your mind, even if your pussy is sore and your legs ache, but the sound of Dan’s alarm breaks the spell.
“I’ve got to go,” You whine, looking up into his ice-blue eyes, your stomach lurches as you think of Steve Murphy, not for the first time, “I’ll see you at Moreno’s later, ok?” You place a quick peck against his cheek before quickly dressing in your clothes from last night.
“See you later, future Mrs. O’Connor!” He calls as you dash out of the apartment, your chest heaving as you try not to sob at his words. In the cold light of day, you realise it was a mistake, you should never have said yes.
But what else is there for you? No-one will ever measure up to your lofty, delusional expectations.
You hear the nagging, self-deprecating voice in your head reprimand you, reminding you that what you want, what you’ve never stopped wanting, is a fantasy. One that he could never have given you, even if he wanted to. But maybe Dan could. Even if it was a mere echo of the happiness you had once hoped for, it would have to do. Dan would have to do.
——
“Alright class, remember your portfolios are due at the end of the month, you will be graded on them and this is not, I repeat, not, a pass-fail class. Now go and enjoy your weekend,” you announce to the lecture hall, knowing it’s falling on deaf ears for at least three-quarters of the college juniors enrolled in your photography class. But the few who are passionate about the course made your efforts worth-while.
“Excuse me?” A soft-spoken student, Lewis, calls your name as the rest of the students leave in haste, eager to get ready for whatever frat party or bar crawl the weekend promised.
“Hey, Lew, what can I do for you?” You ask as you pack up your briefcase and camera bag. The same camera bag you had in Colombia; you can’t let it go. You’ve repaired it more times than you can count, patching holes whenever they formed, there’s barely a stitch left of the original material really.
“I just wanted to say congratulations,” he says with a smile as he looks at your finger with his soft brown eyes.
“Oh, Lewis, thank you, I had completely forgotten. I only said yes last night.” You laugh, more from the nervous energy in your stomach than through humour. He bows his head with a smile and you force a smile from your lips.
“Well, I better get going, busy weekend of photography ahead!” He says with another bright smile before heading out of the room.
The moment he’s gone you shoulder your bags, fighting the tears that pool at the corners of your eyes as images of him flood your senses. Instead of heading straight home, you make a detour, one you haven’t made for over a year, not since you and Dan got together. But you still keep paying the storage fee.
——
You sit with your cassette player, foam padded headphones only just holding it together as you flick through the photographs and newspaper clippings spread across the floor in front of you. The one that you always find yourself going back to is front and centre. Alanis Morrisette playing through the dying Walkman, the tracks skip here and there but you don’t care. It’s purely ritual at this point.
December 3rd 1993.
Colombia Drug Lord Escobar Dies in Shootout
You had hoped that this would have been the end for him, that he would reach out once Escobar was finished, that somehow the curse of the Medellín cartel would wash the sins of the past clean. You waited, and waited, but he never came, he never called, even Connie stopped writing letters long before you did. It’s like you were never there.
Some wounds run too deep.
You think to yourself as you pick up one of the photographs, tears streaming from your eyes as you run your fingers over the contours of his face in profile. You brush your knuckles against his cheek, remembering the way his aquiline nose felt against your skin. You can still taste him, cigarettes, whisky, that unique smooth taste that you could only ever describe as him.
You let yourself weep for him, for the loss in your chest that you have kept locked down for eight years. The agony is as fresh as the day he ripped out your heart and laughed at you, how pathetic and naïve you were, falling for someone like him.
“I hate you.” You spit, holding your knees against your chest as you berate yourself. Your affair couldn’t have lasted more than a few months, yet you’ve never burned so brightly for anyone, not before, and definitely not since. It’s foolish, immature, wrong, but all the self-hatred is ineffective in quelling the sorrow and grief you never fully processed.
You sit in silence for a while, letting your sobs fade into morose silence as you repack the three cardboard storage boxes and put them back on their shelf next to an old Olympus OM-4T that gathers dust, untouched for almost a decade. The film inside full, too painful to develop, but you can never bring yourself to throw it away.
——
You sit in the parking lot of Moreno’s, dressed to kill in a little black dress, your stilettos on the passenger seat, ready to go once you take off the sneakers you drive in. You check your hair and make-up in the mirror once more before stepping out into the crisp night air. You lock your car and hold your head up as you stride into the bar, your heels clicking audibly with every step. You put on a smile and head in through the front door.
“Surprise!” A chorus of voices shouts as you cross the threshold. Your smile becomes genuine as you realise that half the school faculty, all of your friends, and an equal amount of Dan’s friends had rented the whole bar out to surprise you for your birthday.
“Everyone, this is just–,” You’re about to break into a tearful babble about how grateful you are when you see the banner hanging in front of you.
Congratulations on your Engagement!
It’s as if ice is running through your veins as you realise Dan must have told everyone, and instead of hosting your birthday party he had turned it into an engagement party. You almost laugh at how utterly blind-sided you are.
“Happy Engagement party, babe!” Dan calls out as he strides over to meet you, picking you up in a bear hug before spinning you around in a circle. It’s dizzying, sickening, as you feel like you’re going to pass out.
“Yeah, you too!” You manage to stutter out as he puts you down, pulling you in for a deep kiss. The room roars with excitement as you part. Dan’s eyes are full of passion as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.
“Alright, let’s get this party started!” He calls out, and the jukebox roars to life as the buffet is revealed at the far end of the bar.
“I need a drink, I’ll be over in a minute,” you say to Dan as you press a soft his to his cheek. But there’s no feeling in it. You turn on your heel and you lock eyes with your best friend, Melissa, who casually makes her way to the bar, picking up on your discomfort in an instant.
“Hey girl,” She says as she nudges her hip against yours, settling against the bar next to you, “So, engagement party, eh?”
“Yeah, seems that way.” You sigh, knowing you never have to bullshit with Mel.
“Not y’know, your birthday party? Like we planned?” She presses and you turn to look at her, your eyes are sore, your throat like sandpaper as you try to hold back the tears.
“I didn’t want to say yes, Mel, there was so much pressure from Uncle John, Dan’s parents, they were all looking at me like it was already a done deal,” you blurt out, and Mel’s amber eyes go wide, before they narrow as anger settles over her features.
“Two beers, we’ll take them outside, put them on the O’Connor’s tab.” Melissa says bluntly to the bartender. He returns promptly and you take the cool beverage in your hand before following her outside.
The cool night air is a relief as you step out back, your knees weak as you lean back against the aging brickwork of the bar. Mel waits patiently for you to talk, setting her bottle down as she pulls out a pack of cigarettes. You look at them with a hunger you haven’t felt for a long time.
“Thought you quit,” she says dismissively as she lights one with her Zippo before handing it to you.
“I did.” You grunt as you press the end between your lips and inhale the acrid smoke into your lungs. The buzz of nicotine hits like the addictive substance it is. It soothes your nerves a little, steadies you as you exhale a long stream of smoke up into the night sky. It was the most relaxed you had felt all day.
“So, what the fuck is that all about?” Mel asks before she takes a drag, the fiery tip of her cigarette illuminating her face, making her dyed red hair glow ethereally.
“I don’t fucking know. How the fuck did he tell half the town before I even told you?” You ask, the question rhetorical but Mel already has an answer.
“Because that man’s a narcissist and a control freak.” She scoffs and you choke on the smoke in your lungs as you balk at her comment.
“Dan’s not a narcissist, nor a control freak.” You argue, but there’s a hint of doubt in your mind at the words being said out loud.
“So this isn’t like that time you got the Professorship, and he made it about him? What was it? His sales figures for the company his parents own?” She snorts and you feel compelled to defend him.
“Hey, he worked hard to get those sales, and his parents didn’t give him the job,” you say, taking another drag of your quickly diminishing cigarette. You already want another, chasing a taste of something long dead, something buried deep inside you.
“Sure, what about when you got enrolled into that post-grad scheme he made you quit because he didn’t want you working with ‘deplorables’,” Mel says, making air quotes, smoke wafting around her head as she gesticulates.
“Fuck, I’d forgotten about that. Really wanted that forensic photography internship too,” you say, and something inside you clicks. You contemplate asking for another cigarette but stop yourself, Dan would be furious if he found out.
Control Freak. Narcissist.
“Fuck,” you repeat, and you see Mel nodding knowingly. You feel less ashamed by how you reacted to the party, to the engagement, to the whole fucked up day.
“You sure you want to spend the rest of your life with this asshole?” She asks knowingly and you genuinely don’t know what to say. You smoke the cigarette down to the butt before dropping it and stomping on it with your toe.
“I guess I’m just going to have to wait and see.” You shrug, downing the rest of your beer before nodding to the door, indicating you’re heading back in.
“I’ll be right in,” Mel says as she pulls out her phone, furiously smashing the buttons as she begins to text, the screen illuminating her face green in contrast to the red glow of a cigarette now long snuffed out under her boot.
——
The rest of the night goes off without so much as a hiccup as you make small talk, drink too much wine, and try not to think about the words rattling around your brain. It’s like a rot set in last night, when you were backed into a corner by Dan and his family, by your uncle wanting the best for you. But all you feel is regret, remorse, and like you’re losing yourself to a riptide you can’t escape. Mel’s blunt words earlier only serve to twist the knife in your gut further.
Control Freak. Narcissist.
You glance over to see Dan laughing loudly with some of the guys he works with, they hang on his every word and you shake your head in disbelief. How had you not seen this side of him before? How were you so blind to his behaviour?
“Hey ,you’re not welcome here,” you hear your uncle’s voice carry over the din of the crowded room, “She doesn’t want you here. You’ve got some nerve showing up, today of all days.” You frown at the anger in your uncle’s voice, he never gets angry, let alone raise his voice like this. You make your way through the crowd, a hush descending over the room as they pick up on the argument at the door.
“You must be John, should be proud of how well she shoots, and drinks.” The sound of the other person’s voice roots you to the spot. You can’t see his face, his back is to you, but the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his dark hair curls against the collar of pink button down, his sinfully tight jeans, and the deep baritone of his voice are unmistakable.
“Javi?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but his head whips around to look for you. Your body trembles as those hard brown eyes soften the moment he sees you. His moustache twitches up as his cheek dimples. You can’t decide if you want to scream at him, kiss him, or if you want to run out the door and never stop running. For now, you’re rooted to the floor, glass of wine precariously dangling from your fingertips. Your mouth is dry as you try to form a coherent sentence, but nothing comes out.
“Hey John, this hombre causing you trouble?” Your mouth falls open in shock at the racist undertones of Dan’s words. You flinch away from his touch as he tries to pull you against him, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he wraps his arm around your waist possessively. You watch Javi’s eyes narrow at the sight of you being held by another man. He doesn’t seem to be phased by the border-line slur.
You try and twist away from Dan, repulsed by his touch as you fawn up at the only man you have ever truly loved. You don’t want Javi to see another man’s hands on you, you don’t want him to think you want this more than you want him. You’re desperate for his approval, his love, even after all he’s done. But Dan yanks you back against him now, your shoulder aching at the joint as you cry out in pain. You feel like he’s suffocating you, cutting you off from a life-line you’re mere millimetres away from taking. It all feels like a sick nightmare you can’t wake from.
“He’s nobody, just someone trying to start trouble, but he’s leaving, isn’t that right son?” Your uncle snaps and you watch as Javi’s face contorts into t, he sly, cocky grin you know all too well. Your insides twist at Javi being called nobody. He’s not nobody, he’s somebody, your somebody, your Javi. Here, in the flesh, for you.
“I just came along to say something to the birthday girl,” Javi says with a heavy sigh before looking at you once more, “Feliz cumpleaños, bonita.” And just like that he’s walking back through the door. Waltzing out of your life after turning it upside down yet again. Your chest heaves as eight years of unexpressed grief and repression rear their ugly heads. You physically ache, you almost think you’re having a heart attack as the stabbing pains in your chest build. Your breathing comes in broken wheezes as you try to pull away from Dan, but his grip is unrelenting.
Time slows as the party resumes as if nothing happened at all, your uncle gives you a sympathetic grimace before Dan yanks you around to face him. His grip on your arm so tight it hurts. Tears streak down your face as you try to pull away, unsuccessfully.
“Who the fuck was that?” He snarls under his breath, and you blink up at him, mortified with the tone he’s taking with you.
Control Freak. Narcissist.
“An old work colleague, from Colombia,” you explain, pain arcing through your arm as Dan grips you tighter.
“Seemed like more than a friend to me, fucking wetba–” He snaps, and you yank your arm out of his grip, looking down at the reddened skin in disgust. Never has he laid hands on you and yet this sheer display of racism and aggression puts you into a tailspin.
“Don’t you fucking finish that word,” you hiss as you take your heels off, disgust roiling in your stomach as you barely recognise the man in front of you. It’s like you saying yes to marrying him flicked a switch, baring the ugly growths and weeping sores of his personality to you. “I can’t deal with you right now. I’m leaving.”
You storm outside without looking back, vaguely aware of Mel trying to catch up with you. She calls your name but you’re not listening, you’re so preoccupied with getting to your car, and ignoring the various calls for you to come back inside, that you don’t see him until it’s too late.
You collide with the solid mass of a man with a grunt, stumbling as you realise how drunk you are, you probably shouldn’t be driving. You begin to apologise as you inhale the deadly cocktail of scents, vanilla accented cologne, peaty whisky, and the smell that is just Javier Peña. You raise your head slowly and look up through your lashes into dark pools of chocolate brown.
“Careful there, bonita, might fall into unsavoury hands if you’re not careful,” he says, his hands on your biceps to steady you, his calloused fingertips digging into your bare skin and memories of those fingers all over your body flood your mind.
“Javi, I need you to take me home.” You mumble and he raises an eyebrow at you.
“Bonita, I don’t know where you live.” He argues, not trusting you to give directions in this state.
“No, not there, not back to him, want to go home with you.” You slur, tears soaking his shirt as you bury your face back into his chest. You hear Mel call your name once more and you’re about to say something, but Javi speaks first.
“I’ve got her Mel, thanks for calling, seems like a real shitshow.” He grunts and you furrow your brow, pulling out of his embrace to stumble and face Mel.
“You know Javi?” You snap, your tone accusatory. Mel shrugs at you and you stagger to the back of Javi’s truck, emptying the contents of your stomach as tears stream down your face. You feel like you’re going to die, your mind is a fucked-up jumble of incoherent noise as you lean against the tailgate.
“Let me take her home,” Mel suggests, but you shake your head violently.
“Not going home, not to him, not to fucking John’s house.” You spit bitterly, you feel so betrayed, duped into the engagement and this stupid fucking party.
“I want to go home with Javi.” You whimper and wrap your arms around his waist, clinging onto him for dear life. You’re vaguely aware that you’re likely smearing bile and vomit on his shirt.
“Fuck she’s wasted,” Javi says softly, remorse, or maybe even guilt evident in his tone.
“Yeah, that’s not on you though, blame the narcissist who turned her birthday party into their engagement party.” Mel scoffs and you freeze as you realise you’re still wearing the ring.
“Mel, give this to Dan, or John, I don’t care, I don’t want it,” you say, as you violently tug the ring off your finger, slapping it down aggressively in Mel’s hand.
“Hey, bonita, how about I look after it, and you can decide if you want it in the morning, ok?” Javi says softly as he pulls you off him with ease, your weak limbs ineffective against his gentle hands.
“Fine, but please. Take me home.” You beg, already feeling your mind slipping into unconsciousness.
“Ok, but just this once, bonita.”
——
Pain.
Pain is all you can think about as it feels like a nail has been punched through your skull, just above your right eyebrow. Your mouth is like sandpaper, and you don’t even know what a tongue is anymore, yours shrivelled and painful in your mouth. You crack your eyes open, waiting for the inevitable burn of your retinas. But it doesn’t come, the room is dark, unfamiliar blackout curtains drawn across a window to your right.
You groan as you sit up in unfamiliar white cotton sheets on a king-sized bed that definitely isn’t your own. The room is sparsely decorated, but on the nightstand you see a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol waiting for you. A note left in familiar, atrocious handwriting that makes your chest flutter.
Drink me, take me.
The words are barely legible but even time couldn’t erase the way you understand Javier Peña, be it the way his jaw ticks when he’s mad, the way he exhales through his nose when he’s pissed off. The way his moans twist into barely there whines when he comes. You know it all, and it hurts, more than the pain in your head, it hurts knowing he’s so close yet so completely out of reach.
“Javier?” You say aloud as you stumble out of bed, looking for your clothes as you realise you’re in a pair of DEA branded sweat pants and a white t-shirt that have to be his. You don’t remember getting undressed and your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you realise Javi must have put you in his clothes. You’re suddenly blindingly self-conscious.
Did he look? What does he think of you now that you’re older? Does he still think you’re attractive?
You dispel the thoughts as quickly as they arrive and pad out into the hall. You need to get away from him, you can’t let him get in your head. His apartment is nice, spacious, a far cry from the dingy two bedroom one he had in Bogotá. You smell bacon as you cross into what you assume is the living room.
Javi stands with his back to you, singing to himself in Spanish as he cooks. There’s a small part of you that wants to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around him, to melt into him like nothing changed. You want to distract him from cooking, take him in your mouth and let him fuck your throat, or bend you over the counter and eat your pussy like it’s all he needs in life.
But the illusion shatters as you remember how hard you had fallen for him, and how hard you fell into despair when he hurt you, not once, but twice. You notice your clothes in a plastic bag on the table, along with your purse and keys. You consider staying, seeing what he has to say for himself, but your heart aches too much, you can’t let yourself get hurt like that again.
“Goodbye, Javi,” you whisper to yourself as you slip out of the apartment, barefoot and raw as you try, not for the first time, to forget about Javier Peña. You’ve never felt so utterly defeated in your life as you recognize the part of Austin he’s living in, just a few blocks away from campus. So close. You don’t want to go home, if you even know where home is anymore. You decide to head to your office, the last safe haven you have left.
Big thank you to @wannabe-urs, @Patti7dc, and @johnwtsn for their work proofing/beta reading for me!
Remember to follow and subscribe to notifications on @twwaktnotifs for updates on my work!
All graphics are done by me.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#smut#ao3 fanfic#javier peña#javier pena#narcos fanfiction#javi pena#narcos fic#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#Javier Peña smut#narcos#narcos smut#hurt/comfort#angst#Heartbreak#lost love#Vi writes#A feeling that never came#First aid kit#Javi p x you#javi peña#fic: a feeling that never came#a feeling that never came: fic
139 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator
Part Five
After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.
"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."
Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.
Day 469 ~ Jake
The house sat at the top of a steep incline, up a winding driveway that had begun to be reclaimed by nature. Cracks in the cement where little shrubs had started to grow and leaves that were never blown away. Neglected and abandoned.
It reminded me a little of Josh's house. With pristine edges and white walls, coveted by obscure works of art. Book shelves that were gathering dust and kitchen utensils left out on the surfaces as if the owners had just stepped out of the room.
Amelia seemed to know where she was going. "I found this place a couple of months after I moved into Grandma's cabin."
She led me down a narrow corridor, flanked by a bank of full length windows overlooking a sweeping back yard that was shrouded by trees. Photo's of the family who once lived there sitting on the wall opposite, happy faces forever immortalised for no one else to ever see.
"I hit every house within a 10 mile radius. Looking for supplies, anything that I could use. Food, toiletries. And I was about to leave when I noticed this..."
She stopped at the end of the corridor, leaning against a nondescript door. Her face sincere as she ran hands up my arms, coming to rest around my shoulders.
"We have to take whatever joy we can find in this world." She said, "And if we're lucky, we'll take back some of the joys we had before."
I'd known nothing but joy since I'd almost died. There wasn't a single moment I'd had with her that hadn't made me question whether I would take any of it back to have the world filled with every other person I'd ever loved again.
It was something I'd wrestled with. The notion that I could happily exist in a world I'd come to hate simply because she was in it with me. I was thinking about Josh again when she opened the door, simply because I'd been reminded of him. And the certainty within which I knew I wouldn't take any of it back, even if it meant having him back, drew a conflict within the likes of which I'd never known before.
But it was all for nothing. As I stepped into the room she'd been eager to show me, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I loved her enough to never want the old world back.
"Amelia..." I gasped. "What in the...fuck."
Mounted on an oak panelled wall were an array of vintage guitars. A brazilian board 1959 Gibson Les Paul. Shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun. I reached out and touched it, trembling as my fingers remembered what it felt like to know strings. A custom Fender strat in dark red with a black mottled pattern that looked like spilled paint if you looked too closely. A plain red stratocaster and an acoustic Martin dreadnought with a mahogany neck.
"I know that you said you didn't play anymore. Not without your brothers. But I think you should play again. For them. To them. And maybe somehow, I don't know how insane it might be, but maybe they'll hear you. Wherever they are..."
She was nervous. Biting her lip and wringing her hands in the sleeves of her sweater. Anticipating that I'd reject the sweetness of her idea, of this perfect gift.
"You brought me here because you knew that I would love it, didn't you?" I asked, although it wasn't really a question.
"Is that so bad?" She replied, opening her arms as if I would somehow be mad at her.
The room was decked out with framed vinyls. Some were so old I'd never seen them before. There were a few more guitars leaned up against the opposite wall and a beaten up drum kit in the window. It looked as if it had been played to death, with the cymbals hanging off and the kick drum looked as if one more pound on it would tear it right in half.
"It's not bad at all, why would you think that?" I pulled her into me, her little body slotting into my embrace like it had always meant to be there. "Just because I said I didn't play anymore doesn't mean I wouldn't love this."
She rested her head against my shoulder. Let me sway her back and forth a little. Everything was so eerily quiet. Up here the wind howled a little more than it did around the cabin. It sounded like ghosts were singing to us, begging me to pick up one of those fine old ladies.
"Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I just wanted to hear you for myself." She looked up at me, resting her lips on my jawline.
"Plenty have paid for the privilege." I replied, "What will you pay me for a private show?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I saved your life. This is you paying me, sweet thing."
She laughed and buried her face into my neck, kissing me there and holding me tight around my waist. Familiar and wholesome. Like she hadn't tried to push me away at all in the beginning.
She was the most incredible woman I had ever known. Her fears were like shadows now, she had this uncanny ability to turn them into her most beloved passions. Once she had been afraid to love me. And now, the ways in which she loved me were making me feel unworthy of it.
"Sometimes I don't think you realise how much you saved me." I told her, casting my eye on the acoustic. "Not just from that car wreck. But from a life of misery."
Of course I would play for her. If not her, then nobody. She made herself comfortable on a shaggy looking bean bag, folding herself into it and resting her head against her curled fist as she regarded me. I pulled the mahogany acoustic down from the wall, not wanting to tend to wires and amps just yet.
I considered coming up with something on the fly, but it had been so long since I had tinkered with strings that my mind began to wander so far away I couldn't make them work. I strummed a little, hearing the notes play out and something weird happened. I thought I'd never feel this ever again, this visceral wave that washed over me to the point of almost growing hard as I felt the back of the guitar against my groin.
Her eyes widened. She wasn't prepared.
"How does it make you feel, to have an audience again?" She asked softly, seductively.
The strings needed tuning a little. I turned the keys at the top of the neck, plucking out chords until they sounded pitch perfect.
"Sexy." I replied, "I always felt sexy whenever I went out on stage. They made me feel sexy. Kinda the same way you are now. Knowing they want to fuck you every time you play for them."
I didn't realise how much I missed the adrenaline. The feral cries of a crowd. Their voices rising in unison. Lights and screaming and the feeling that I might ascend with their love. I'd been someone in my life before. I'd known what it felt like to open my eyes and know I was doing something I loved completely. I hadn't felt like this in what felt like a life time.
"This is who you are, Jake." She uttered, sliding her hand down the curve of her hips. "You can't run from who you are forever."
I felt as if I didn't deserve her. For all she had done for me, for how incredible she was. There was no crowd that could ever compare to the way I felt in that moment playing for her.
"I can't sing our songs like Josh could." I confessed, "I'd be a poor imitation. But I'll try."
I couldn't hold the same power with my voice that my brother could. The part of me that had promised never to play again still sat in the shadows whispering to me that it would never be the same. But louder than that was Amelia's face watching me strum out the first chords of a song that meant everything to me.
"What's it called?" She asked.
Day 469 ~ Amelia
I knew he would love it. I'd all but forgotten about the little music room at the back of the big house on the corner of the road that led into Lafayette. It had meant nothing to me the first time I'd ventured in there. There was nothing in there that was of any use to me.
But today, it was like seeing the sun peek out from a grey cloud. I'd gone from doing everything in my power to ensure that he was never necessary to me, to doing everything in my power just to see him smile.
"It's called Broken Bells." He replied, "Josh used to say that it was about seeing that when things sometimes feel broken most of the time they're just lessons sent to help us see that everything will be alright in the end. I really wish he could be here to see that he was so fucking right."
What would I have done if he hadn't felt the same? I could feel myself dying a little inside at the melancholy way he played. His face expressing his grief. He played so hauntingly beautifully, in a way I hadn't really been prepared for. He closed his eyes and didn't even need to look at the way his fingers moved across the strings. He knew them, and they responded to him so lovingly. Almost as if they were an entity all of their own, able to come when he called.
If he hadn't have loved me in return I'd have been driven mad by it. Every rational bone in my body broken if I'd been forced to live beside him unrequited. I began to understand how lucky and fortunate I was as he began to sing. That he and I were somehow fated. And it wasn't just a coincidence that he was driving past me that day. He was creation and I was necessity. He'd made music for a world that needed to hear it and I'd treated them when they were sick. And for some unfathomable reason, we'd been left behind to exist together in this empty world.
But empty didn't have to mean broken. There was nothing but love in the world again. Nothing but this painful song that made tears spill from my eyes as I watched him and listened. What if this song was the only one being played? And the only one being listened to? I had hope that if anyone else had been left behind that they had somehow managed to find each other and find love within it.
"That was...beautiful." I sobbed, laughing at myself for crying at it.
He put down the guitar and came to me. Launching himself into the bean bag, the scrunchy sound of tiny styrofoam balls moving around as he wiggled into the space beside me.
"It always got an emotional reaction whenever we played it." He sighed, trailing soft palms down the side of my face. "It felt like people resonated with our songs for all different kinds of reasons. But with Broken Bells it always felt we were all on the same page. All of us feeling the same thing at the same time."
How could I have ever doubted him? This beautiful man with his beautiful music?
"I was just thinking, while you were playing it, that I hoped that somewhere out there that other people were listening to songs for the first time. That they'd found each other and found love, even in a world seemingly broken." I countered, feeling the heat of that familiar rush when I knew he was about to make love to me.
"If they aren't, then we have to love for all of those who can't." He said, trailing kisses down my jaw line.
Sometimes it felt silly. The things we said to each other. Things in the dead of night. In the cold light of day. In the middle of the afternoon when he was at his most sleepy, when he would linger in the kitchen looking to score a bowl of stew or soup before curling up on the couch with a book before he would fall asleep.
Even now, I could feel him nuzzle in. Our bodies entwined on the bean bag lazily tracing his thumb over my nipple as he sucked the flesh on my neck into perfect little shapes of his mouth.
"So, you really do like it?" I checked, just wanting to hear him say it one more time.
"Oh, yeah." He yawned, "That Les Paul is coming home with us for sure. And maybe I'll come back for the Strat, too."
I was wearing the black yoga pants I saved for hiking. The ones that I wore to collect fire wood. To muck out the horses and clear out the chicken coop. I never felt particularly sexy in them, or desirable. It felt almost like we'd become accustomed to seeing each other in our most desolate states.
But when he slipped them down around the curve of my ass and hitched me around so I was facing away from him, I was glad that I'd worn them. The way he pressed his hard on into my back and continued to roll my nipple around between his fingers as he breathed harder into my ear was the blessing I'd needed to know that I'd done the right thing.
We were both tired from the hike. Our bodies crying out for rest. The afternoon sun began to slip away, making room for cloud and darkness. I was acutely aware that there was no power in this house. No electricity. No running water. No heat. It was in my mind to interrupt his ministrations with these facts, but as his hand slipped below, coming up into my entrance from behind, I lost all manner of speech.
"You gonna let me thank you properly?" He asked, slaking two fingers inside me slowly. "Be my good girl and let me show you how much I love you?"
I was in no mood to protest. I watched the light outside fade as he ran stripes up my slit and into my clit. Whispering obscenities and freeing himself one handedly as he played with me. Letting his cock rest between his stomach and the curve of my ass, leaking a little against our flesh.
"Can you feel it?" He breathed, "How much I love you?"
It was all I could feel. There was no house. No darkness. No eerie silence as the wind rushed through the trees. Howling like there was someone out there to hear it. Only Jakes breath, the bean bag as it shuffled beneath us, and the sound of my untamed scream as he penetrated me.
He didn't try to quieten me. Buffeting my wild moans with deep thrusts that came like chasms to break me in half. Each time he bottomed out, he savoured it. Taking the briefest of moments to feel me clenched around him before pulling back slowly. The need to fuck and the need to sleep battling it out for supremacy.
"Pretty fucking grateful, aren't you?" I replied, leaning my head back into his waiting mouth.
When he was like this, all in need and eager to satisfy any way that he could, I often thought back to how it had been that first time. On the ground in the mud, knees caked in it and the earth beating in time with us. And how in the time since, we'd leisurely made love on the kitchen floor some mornings. In the shower, just stroking each other to pass the time. Him, on top of me, in the bed we now shared. And me, arms around the trunk of a tree whilst he fucked me from behind out in the woods even though it was still a little cold out there.
"For this pussy? Always." He purred into my ear, like he was serenading me.
I knew that I'd never tire of it. The way he felt inside me. The way he fit so perfectly. I never felt so full, like something had been made just for me. He wasn't just rhythm and blues, he was equipped to make me quiver with the mere mention that he might take me right there and then.
I'd lament it later on. How all my lovers before him had been lacking. How I'd swiped left and right, attended blind dates and settled when I shouldn't have. For men that couldn't make me cum or men who couldn't text me back.
"Mmmmm..." I murmured softly, arching against his quickening pace. "It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."
The gentle laughter that expelled from his mouth against the shell of my ear was like summer rain. Teasing my senses, touch taste and scent. His hair was sweat drenched at his temples, as it often was when he fucked me, and I could taste the salt of it in his kiss.
"She speaks so highly of me." He breathed, "Now let her know no other man will ever have her..."
He would claim me. Over and over again. Even when there was no other to counter his claim. I let his hand wrap around my throat, edging me to the distance it would take to push me over the edge of the world. Thrusting into me so hard my entire body shook. I knew the bean bag had ripped at some point, sending the tiny little white foam balls scattered across the room. But I didn't care.
I'd keep finding them in strange places for weeks afterwards. As he rolled me onto the floor and continued to pound me, vicious and unrelenting. He'd never silenced my mewling cries before, content to let them ring out into the ether.
But not this time. It was like his gratitude couldn't be satisfied until he could hear the one sound he desired. His body raged on top of mine, our clothes half on and half off. His sweaty palm came to rest over my open mouth. Muffling my cries to a dull humm. His eyes silently pleading with me to let them die. And to just listen...
"Hush." He encouraged, resting his mouth against the back of his hand as he continued.
There it was. Against the backdrop of the breeze outside. The sound of how wet I was. His cock hitting my satiated pussy. Moist flesh against moist flesh. The most inconceivable feeling washed over me. This man, the only man that ever was, wanted to silence my mouth only to better hear the sound of my pussy being fucked.
And the drop of his eyelids as he listened had me in another state of being. Half closed and fucked with desire for the way it slipped in and out, wet and completely his.
"Thankyou, my love." He whispered, before he allowed himself to cum.
I was never certain if it was for the music, or the way I let him fuck me. I didn't really care. I let my own orgasm rise moments later, the two of us breathless and spent on the gutted belly of that old bean bag.
Day 470 ~ Amelia
We hunkered down for the night. Choosing to make our way back at first light, gathering all the blankets we could find and sleeping on the couches that were, quite simply, more luxurious than any couch we could have gotten in the cabin.
Jake took the one opposite me, falling asleep first. His gentle snores lulling me into my own dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all before my eyes sprang open, the red of morning creeping in.
I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Taking a moment to recall where I was. This place was eerie, even in daylight. And I wished that there were something, anything...that would remind me that people had once lived here. The ticking of a clock, perhaps. Or the grass being cut outside. I could have laid there a little longer, still tired and drowsy, but I was eager to be gone.
I kicked off the blankets and expected Jake to be laying there, ever the one to wake up last, but my heart fell into my stomach at the sight of the empty couch. Blankets still left precisely where he had kicked them off.
"Jake?!" I called, expecting his voice to filter down the hall from the music room.
Silence.
"Jake?!" I called again, pulling on my pants and shoes as I made my way through the house.
I expected to find him gathering up all the instruments he wanted to take. Agonising over which ones to take now and which ones to come back for. But there was nothing but the aftermath of what we'd done. And all the guitars were accounted for.
"Jake, this isn't funny." I cried, checking behind the curtains like a child playing hide and seek. "Jake, I'm being serious now!!!"
Panic began to rise in my chest. My heart soaring, making me dizzy as I flew through the house. Room after room coming up empty.
"Jake!!!" I screamed, running now. "Jake please!!!"
Had I ever given myself permission to imagine this, I would have driven myself mad. That one day he would simply vanish, like everyone else had, and truly I would have walked to my death in that moment. I had no desire to live in a world void of the man I loved.
"JACOB!!!" My voice broke on his name as I fell out of the door and into the back yard. "PLEASE!!!!"
I fell to my knees on gravel. Crying. Racking sobs expelled from me as I took fists full of tiny pebbles that cut into my flesh as I squeezed. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. My chest was tight, all the horror of him disappearing coursing through my veins as tears spilled down my flushed cheeks.
"Jake, I can't do this...you have to come back..." I begged, broken and beyond redemption.
In a matter of moments I'd gone from waking up, to screaming on my knees. I'd have thought it a nightmare had I not already endured one. The reality of this feeling was one I knew. Only this time, intensified by a love that had known no bounds. I could live in an empty world before I'd ever known him.
Not anymore.
To be Continued...
.
.
.
@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289
#greta van fleet#jake kiszka#fanfic#greta van fleet fan fiction#gvf#gvf fanfiction#fanfiction#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka x reader
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marooned: Chapter 1
Pairing: Kid x FemReader x Killer
Warnings: reference to suicide, terrible humor
Brief Summary: You have been surviving, not thriving, on an island. Was this divine punishment for the things you had done in life? When you have all but accepted your fate to die alone in this shitty paradise, your ticket to freedom washes up on shore, but is it wise to accept the ride? The real question is: would it mean trouble for you or for THEM?
Happy birthday, Kil! Sorry I made you half-dead in this.
First Light
You had a routine. Somewhat reminiscent of your old life, you woke up at the asscrack of dawn. Where it used to be a wake-up-call, now it was the sun's earliest tendrils prodding you awake. After being here for so long, you became sensitive to the natural rhythm set by sun. At first light, you woke up, and after dusk, you were fast asleep. And between those two mandatory meetings in your schedule, you had quite a few tasks that you'd given yourself, mostly to stay sane. Was it helping? Probably not.
Again, much like your old life, every day starts with a perimeter check. Except in your current life, that meant beach-combing. For others, it was a fun little hobby, but for you, it was your line to the outside. Today should be especially fruitful since there was a big thunderstorm just off the coast. After the last one, you had almost enough materials to start building the next section of your boat. With that promise hanging in the air, you threw on Frankenstein's minidress, your affectionate name for what was essentially an oversize T-shirt crafted from animal skin and the tatters of your original clothing, and carefully slid down the knotted vine connecting your ramshackle treehouse with the jungle floor. The shirt was more to protect you from the sun's rays than to protect your modesty. Who was gonna see you anyway? A whale?
In the gentle purple-blue light, you found the handle to your sled and started off towards the beach. "It's going to be a really good day, isn't it, Mini?" You looked over into thick underbrush. A breeze rustled the leaves. You laughed, tugging the thing along the dirt. "I thought so." It took some effort to pull the sled to the beach. It was a large animal's ribcage with some kind of fronds lining the outside, to make it slide easier.
You didn't really have a set time that you adhered to for your first task of the day, but it generally took 2-3 hours (or so you thought, you didn't have a watch) to circumnavigate the island, depending on what there was to find. It was taking longer today, which you had anticipated. And it had indeed been fruitful: A few jars filled with something that looked edible, some wooden planks, some blue and white thing that looked like it could be a weird colander, some buttons, a few scraps of fabric, some rad goggles, and an entire human man.
Wait... a man? You did a double-take. You initially thought it was part of a crumpled blue sail. Oh shit oh fuck. Your heartbeat escalated. You hadn't considered this scenario. You hadn't seen another human being in... well a long time. What if he's dead?... or worse what if he's alive? Your thoughts flashed to the gun you had hidden away, one of the few things that washed ashore with you. You didn't even know if it would still fire. And I only have one bullet that I was saving in case.... in case. There was no point standing there to ponder the possibilities. You looked to the treeline, "Standby, Mini." There was no answer.
Cautiously, you approached the man. Long blonde hair was splayed around him and his clothes, a blue shirt and jeans, were soaked. You inched your big toe towards him. Gently, you poked at him. Nothing. Your body was on edge as you crouched down to inspect him further, placing your fingers on his neck for a pulse and watching to see if his chest rose. You jerked back. Alive! What do I do? He wasn't quite cold but he wasn't as warm as he should be. "And he definitely had a rough night," you said to no one in particular, gingerly taking inventory of scattered wounds marring his tanned skin.
You pushed things around in your sled to make a space for at least his upper half. "Sorry, blondie." There was no way to get him in there easily. You hooked your arms under his and used your legs to pull him into the sled the best you could. It was probably good he was wearing jeans since you were about to drag him through the forest. But you were no idiot. You weren't taking him to your base of operations. First things first, you had to wash him up and fully inspect the damage. You sighed, looking towards the forest again, "I don't mean to be crude, Mini, but I don't know if I even remember what a dick looks like."
_________________
Don't worry, fellas (gender-neutral). Killer will be okay and Kid is lurking somewhere...
Getting back in the writing game with my first multi-chapter fic (Go big or go home amirite). This story has become my daily intrusive thoughts and I need to get them out. Essentially this is the story of my OC (Ex-Cap't Krait Shenron), but it is made to be enjoyed by all (I hope) and "Reader"-friendly. Some of the more specific details are kept in since it pertains to plot. No posting schedule but I will probably word vomit this entire thing out and then who knows? Maybe I will start taking requests again (sweating).
I will also be uploading to AO3 if you prefer: Here
#massacre soldier killer#eustass kid#one piece#one piece oc#x reader#reader insert#killer x reader#massacre soldier killer x reader#eustass x reader#eustass kid x reader#kid x reader x killer#kid pirates#tw: suicide mention
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
modern au were obi-wan is the bob ross of the PBS channel and cody tunes in for every episode
i saw a video of bob ross doing his thing on tiktok and my mind immediately conjured up obi-wan as bob ross, thus leading to cody developing a lil super fucking big crush on the pretty painter with a nice voice. i don't really know where i was going with this, but i had fun while doing it, and isn't that the whole point? the fic's under the cut, i hope you enjoy!
it started off as him dabbling in the arts, wanting to learn how to paint landscapes bc, as a nature photographer, he can capture nature's beauty, but he just can't paint it from his mind's eye.
he heard from his brothers about a tv show starring a guy who paints beautifully in simple and easy instructions so cody—thinking it's not possible to fuck it up if even his most creatively challenged kin can do it—can do it as well.
only, cody did fuck up and it's bc the guy who greeted him with a friendly, "hello there," and said that they're going to paint today is super fucking pretty and has the gentlest, most relaxing voice cody has ever heard. he's wearing a simple button up and slacks, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his eyes—dear god his eyes. they're a stunning light blue but under different lighting they shift from green to grey to—is that a mole? cody squints, leans in real close to the tv screen, and he groans. this guy has a beauty mark to the right of his nose, a little ways below his eye and it's so fucking endearing. he even has an accent, one cody can't decipher when his gaze is trained on the painter's—obi-wan's, his mind helpfully remembers—long, elegant fingers. hold a brush, a knife, gesturing in quick, stuttery movements, anything his hands do, cody's eyes follow relentlessly. obi-wan is saying something about happy clouds and reassuring his audience that even if they mess up, it's okay bc it's their world that they're creating so mistakes are happy little accidents and, suddenly, cody doesn't care about his blank canvas. all he wants to do is watch this pretty man with the velvet soft voice speak to him and say that life has its ups and downs but it's still a beautiful thing that cody should be happy to take part in.
and cody is happy, very happy, actually, bc with his new found motivation to watch every single episode, he learns how to paint. he learns newfound patience for himself that he thought he mastered after raising so many of his brothers. hell, he even develops a celebrity crush on obi-wan bc no one has ever spoken to him like that and, despite it being through a screen, cody feels as if he's painting with obi-wan for real, as if he's right next to cody, guiding him through creating trees and oceans out of nothing.
though, after so many weeks of watching, cody's crush stays as stand-still as ever when the person you long to know on a personal level doesn't even know you exist.
cody guesses that's why he books a little trip to the mountains, to take a break from the screen and from painting to go back to his first passion of photography. cody hikes through the shrubbery and finds himself wandering on a cliff looking out across the deep, green valley of forestry and rivers, content to snap as many photos as his camera's memory allows. he breaths in the fresh, crisp air and feels at home amongst the chirping birds, the sounds of shifting earth and rushing water, and for the first time in months, cody allows himself to forget about the pretty painter who so carefully carved himself a place in cody's mind.
(and in cody's heart, but he's not ready to admit how far his crush has gone.)
it's sunset when cody starts descending down the mountain trail and sees an open area overlooking the west. his photo-hungry brain tells him to capture one more picture of the sun's rays, the oranges, reds, and yellows blending into deep, dark purples and blues. he quickly jumps off the trail and makes his way to the opening through the trees, but stops short when he notices a painter, engrossed in his art and the beauty of the sun setting behind a curtain of mountains, facing the spectacle at the perfect angle—the same angle cody was hoping to stand in.
it's fine, though, because after carefully stepping around the painter because cody knows on a deep, personal level how frustrating it is to be interrupted in the middle of your craft, he finds a spot that's just as good as the one he wanted. cody gets his camera out and takes the obligatory photos his brain is telling him to take. After a couple dozen, he feels satisfied with the landscape's outcome, but a louder, more intuitive-feeling voice is saying to snap a photo of the painter.
cody doesn't photograph people, he found that he'd rather take his skills to the outdoors where he feels more comfortable, but now he has a deep, almost painfully knowing need to take at least one picture of the man standing with his back to cody. so cody does. he moves quietly, swiftly hopping over fallen twigs as to not step on one and spook the painter (and ultimately rat himself out in the creepiest way possible). cody has a stunning view of the canvas and it's breathtakingly likelihood of the setting sun and blooming night sky, but the man's face is covered by the collar of his jacket and the beanie sitting low on his head. cody feels a pang of disappointment at not being able capture the man's side profile, but the sun is quickly fading and he's in a race against time to still have enough lightning to showcase the canvas, so he snaps a photo.
then that photo turns into two, then three, and by the fourth one, cody's camera is bursting with shutter sounds that echo across the clearing. but the painter still hasn't noticed him. cody, thanking whoever's looking down on him, is eternally grateful because with how he's crouched behind a tree and pointing his camera directly at him, the painter wouldn't hesitate to call authorities on him at first glance.
with his need quelled, cody decides on one more photo for the road when a merciless gust of wind rips past both of them. the painter's hat floats off his head and he immediately drops his brush to reach for it, collar lowered and face fully exposed in cody's direction and—
"no fucking way," cody whispers.
click!
the fly-away beanie hits cody right in the face and over his camera lens, but he got it. he took a photo of the painter who, in just the few seconds his face was unobstructed, struck a chord of familiarity deep in cody's chest because he looks exactly like the reason why cody decided to escape into the mountains.
frantically, cody ignores the "hey!" called out to him in favor of scrambling behind his hiding place and desperately scrolling through his photos for the last one taken. he mentally curses himself for not changing the default settings and starting from his most recent photo as he fingers through the hundreds of previous ones he took. cody is almost to the bottom with the tiniest sliver of hope a frenzied, erratic thing rattling around in his chest when he hears footsteps getting closer.
he's there, he's almost there, just a little further down and he'll see if it's really—his camera dies. right in his hands.
cody lets out a frustrated, low guttural groan at his luck because of course this happens. he wouldn't have expected anything less when it comes to him because only cody can develop a crush on a man who doesn't know he exists then creepily stalk someone who looks scarily similar to said obtainable man. who's cody kidding? he's hallucinating, for christ's sake. he would've followed an apparition off a cliff if it looked like obi-wan and cody isn't afraid to admit that now.
the footsteps grow in volume until a pair of heavy hiking boots stand right in front of cody, most likely attached to a pair of legs that'll lead up to a man who's seconds away from calling the police.
"excuse me?" he says.
"yeah, yeah," cody waves him off, dejected and uncaring of how rude he might sound. he stands on shaky legs and shoulders his camera, eyes unable to move from his feet. he unclenches the beanie in his hand and dusts off pieces of leaves imbedded in the knitting. "Sorry about that, i'll delete the photos if you want. i know i didn't get your permission and it's super fucking creepy of me to just take photos of you—"
"on the contrary," the man says, "if you were taking photos of me, i'd very much like to see them.
the man has such a familiar accent that it has cody's head shooting straight up because there's no fucking way.
"hello there," obi-wan greets, grinning that sweet, gentle smile he wears during every episode of his show.
"uh—um. h-hi." god, could cody sound anymore stupider?
obi-wan's smile broadens and isn't that something? being on the receiving end of something cody's ever seen through a screen? cody feels like he just ascended.
"would you mind sharing them?" obi-wan asks, pointing to cody's camera. "it's not every day i allow someone to take candids of me, especially by someone as handsome as yourself."
okay, cody must've hit his head on something because the guy he's been crushing for months did not just call him handsome. there's just no fucking way.
"uh—i, um," cody clears his throat and manages not to choke on the embarrassed little stutter of his voice, then says with barely any mind, "yes, i'd like that."
if the sun were to burn out in that instant, then cody believes that the unrestricted smile obi-wan gives him could take it's place. it's bright and so genuine for someone he doesn't know let alone just met, and cody thinks he's undeserving of such a thing.
"wonderful. if you'd let me just pack up my things, then we can walk back together."
"i can help!" cody so foolishly blurts. he flushes, cheeks warming under obi-wan's gaze and...and he really doesn't care anymore. Because obi-wan's laughing and the corners of his eyes are crinkling in that cute way he laughs at himself when he makes a mistake on his canvas, and cody thinks this is the most mortified he's ever felt. but dear god is it worth it. he'll embarrass himself to hell and back if it means obi-wan can giggle like that again.
obi-wan takes him up on his offer and that's how cody finds himself standing stiffly next to him, holding open a briefcase as obi-wan carefully places each tube of paint back into it's labeled home. he handles his equipment with grace, the same way cody handles his cameras, and it strikes it then: that he's actually here. obi-wan is in front of him, talking about his reasonings for trekking out this far from his studio and why he's so particular about the set up of his paint, a fact cody knows from his hours of sitting in front of a screen with or without paint and a canvas, and he's speaking to cody in that soft, gentle tone of his that cody—cody can't make a fool of himself anymore than before, so what's there to lose?
"i watch your show," cody says all in a single breath. obi-wan stops talking, a bit startled from cody's outburst, and raises a curious, bushy eyebrow.
"do you now?"
cody nods because it's the only thing his body knows how to do while under the undivided attention of a pretty man.
"yes, all the time. i-i've seen every episode. and i've even thought of sending in a letter and photo of my paintings but i just—i never did."
obi-wan hums, inquisitive, the sound warming something gentle behind cody's ribs. "why is that?"
cody shrugs. he's not about to admit that if he did then he'd be acknowledging how permeant obi-wan's become in his life, a deeply-rooted thing that cody thinks about every hour of every day and has never felt such strong feelings for despite never meeting in person.
that is, until now.
"didn't get around to it," he says instead. obi-wan takes that as an acceptable answer, though, because as soon as it fully sinks in, he's leveling cody with a hopeful stare so promising that the warmth in cody's chest implodes, nearly caving him from the inside out.
"well, i'd love to see those too, if you'd let me." obi-wan swipes the tip of his tongue across his lower lip in an unsure fidget—an action that cody's eyes greedily devour because how could he not?—then he's speaking with certainty that cody only wishes he could have. "i'm not sure why we're meeting like this, nor do i think it's just a coincidence that my hat decided to leave my head and assault you like that." they share a laugh, a private, little thing that cody's going to treasure forever. "but i feel like—like something is telling me to not let you go."
cody eagerly nods along because he knows. he's felt that exact same stomach-swooping tug the moment obi-wan appeared on his screen with a blank canvas and an open smile, happy to meet someone he can't even see.
"same here," cody agrees. "i feel it too, like there's something leading me to you. a—a sort of—"
"force," obi-wan breathes, eyes shining in the dimming light of the setting sun. "yes, exactly that. i'd like to further understand that feeling, why it's there and what not. and," obi-wan takes the case from cody and steps closer to him, until there's barely a foot's length of space between them. standing this close, with obi-wan looking directly into cody's eyes, cody can see that obi-wan's taller than him by a few inches at most. cody would've never learned that though a screen.
"i'd like to get to know you, too," obi-wan says, voice a velvet soft litany in cody's ears. "if you'd let me that is," he adds as an afterthought as if cody would say no.
as if cody would say anything other than yes.
"i'd like that." he smiles, the corners of his lips stretching side across his face, a mirror imitation of obi-wan's.
the sun has fully descended behind the west mountains by the time cody and obi-wan are finished, everything packed up in the bag that hangs from obi-wan's shoulders. the ground lights on the trail illuminate the path back to the main road and they follow it engaged in conversation about cody's work and obi-wan's humble beginnings, for the tv show and even before his decision to become an artist.
"i wanted to be a singer," he confesses, shyly looking down at his boots as if they're more interesting than the disbelieving look on cody's face.
"you can sing?" obi-wan nods, a cute, little shake of his head and cody's heart soars. "i can play the guitar. and i sing a little, too."
"really?" it's obi-wan's turn to look at him, eager and nothing short of extraordinary. "amazing. then you can serenade me as i paint elaborate landscapes dedicated to your likeliness."
that pulls a laugh from cody, the sound a joyous echo in the forests space. "don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. serenading is third date material," he says, then promptly shuts his mouth. maybe cody can get stupider because what the actual fuck? he chances a glance at obi-wan to make sure he hasn't disrupted the casual thing they have conspiring between them, but his expression in unreadable in the dark of the forest.
in that next second, they step back onto the main road and underneath a streetlamp shining down on a large map that reads 'YOU ARE HERE' with a bright, red arrow pointing at their location. in the light, cody can see obi-wans pondering stare, the furrow of his brows and hand under his chin. cody closes his eyes, sure he messed up a good thing before it even started.
"would dinner tomorrow night at my hotel count as our first, then?" obi-wan asks, timbre high and expectant.
cody releases the shaky breath that was caught in his lungs, relieved. then, because he's feeling bold and stupid and so revved up on everything obi-wan, he says, "no, that would count as our second. splitting a shake and some fries at that mcdonald's down the road can count as our first, though."
obi-wan starts to grin that happy pull of his lips cody's seen as many times as he can count on his tv and he wonders how many dates it'll take to kiss a different sort of happiness to obi-wan's mouth.
"sharing milkshakes already, are we? how brave. we've already evolved so far into our relationship and i don't even know your name."
cody mentally berates himself because, yeah. with all the excitement and emotions running him through the ground, he forgot the most important thing when trying to shoot your shot with the pretty painter: his goddamn name.
"i'm cody. cody fett," he introduces, hopefully sounding cooler than he really is when he's pushing 35 and desperately pining over someone he's met just shy of ten minutes ago. though, cody's known obi-wan for months now, so maybe he's not a total loser. cody shifts his camera strap more securely over his shoulder then extends his right hand. "it's a pleasure to meet you. and you are?"
obi-wan giggles and no matter how many times cody hears it from now and how ever long he's able to, he's sure he'll never get used the gentle chime of it, how it's directed to and for him alone.
"hello there, i'm obi-wan kenobi." obi-wan takes his hand in a firm grip and cody swears sparks fly from their joined palms. "and, i'd love to join you for a milkshake. chocolate flavored, please."
that catches cody off guard. "chocolate? i would've figured you'd be more of a vanilla type of guy."
obi-wan releases his hand but holds onto cody's fingers, letting them hook over each other in the shared space between them. "you have a lot to learn, my dear. i have many secrets that people don't know about me."
cody sucks in an optimistic breath, eager to learn every single one.
#codywan#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#after mcdonald's they head back to obi-wan's hotel where they spend the next couple hours just talking#they both fall asleep on the couch and by morning cody has a terrible kink in his neck but he's also in love so there's that#obi-wan isn't too far off either bc he wakes up with a handsome's arms wrapped around him and he thinks he's died and gone to heaven#star wars#star wars the clone wars#omgahgase writes
141 notes
·
View notes
Text
be the first to the feast, let's choke on the past [gift fic]
Explicit★Steddie★2114 words★Complete
Gift fic for the lovely @stobinesque !! Happy birthday!!!
Eddie lounged back on Steve’s bed, wearing just a tank top and a pair of flannel sleep pants. He was watching the man talk animatedly about some bullshit that happened at work, but if Eddie was honest, he had stopped listening several minutes ago. No, see Eddie’s attention had been snagged by one of Steve’s hands gesticulating wildly and he couldn’t look away.
CW: Dom/sub dynamics, Soft Dom Steve, sub Eddie, Good Boy Eddie, T4T Steddie, Breathplay, Vaginal Sex, Slight Feminization (‘princess’ used as a petname), additional warnings on Ao3
[ READ ON AO3 ]
Eddie lounged back on Steve’s bed, wearing just a tank top and a pair of flannel sleep pants. He was watching the man talk animatedly about some bullshit that happened at work, but if Eddie was honest, he had stopped listening several minutes ago. No, see Eddie’s attention had been snagged by one of Steve’s hands gesticulating wildly and he couldn’t look away.
Even though Steve really wasn’t much taller than Eddie and they were actually roughly similar builds, Steve’s hands were just… big. They were broad, long-fingered, and fuck were they veiny and strong. They were also, just like the rest of him, hairy. Well, Eddie had definitely seen hairier, but Steve’s hands had a fair number of dark hairs up the backs of them and on his knuckles that just had Eddie obsessed.
Those hands conjured thoughts that stole Eddie’s breath away, had him aching and wet between his legs; thoughts of those big hands around his waist and holding him down as Steve slid into his tight ass, or of them pawing at his tits while Eddie bounced on Steve’s lap, or his favourite, most secret fantasy of having one of those meaty fists entirely inside his cunt. The current fantasy, however, the one that made his thighs clench, was a different beast entirely.
No, the images currently plaguing Eddie were sparked by one sentence.
“I was so close to just choking them out, Eds.”
The man had even demonstrated the motion of strangling someone, and Eddie was fucking done for.
Eddie could only watch and half-listen, wishing for a hand around his throat and a cock in his cunt. With a small sigh, Eddie spread his legs to relieve some of the pressure as his dick throbbed. Fuck, he was so far gone already.
“—Eds?”
Eddie jumped when a hand grabbed his ankle and shook his leg lightly. For a moment, Eddie was overwhelmed with his fantasy again, with those long fingers wrapped around his ankle the way he wanted them around his throat. When he blinked back to the present and his eyes met Steve’s, Eddie knew he was caught. Steve was fully aware that he was sporting a stiff one in his boxers, and his cunt was wet enough to drown him in.
“You seemed a little far away,” Steve hummed knowingly, grinning in that mischievous way that had Eddie’s stomach swooping as he crawled up the length of bed. Eddie spread his legs a bit wider as Steve straddled one of them, rocking one of his thighs against the damp crotch of Eddie’s sweatpants. Resting his hands on Eddie’s chest and groping his tits through his shirt, Steve asked, “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
Meeting Steve’s eyes easily, Eddie ground his cunt against his leg. “Thinking about getting a new necklace,” Eddie replied, glancing pointedly down at the hands on his chest. “Thinking those would do quite nicely, huh?”
There was a moment where Steve looked like he was about to get off the bed, rightfully annoyed at the terrible line, but then the meaning appeared to finally dawn on him. Eddie could have sworn he felt Steve’s dick pulse through their clothes where it was pressed against his leg.
Holy shit, Eddie needed one of Steve’s cocks inside him while he was light headed from lack of air and gasping for breath.
A hand slid upward until it was resting at the base of Eddie’s throat. “You want your collar, or—?” Steve started, eyebrow raised.
Eddie immediately shook his head, arching up and tilting his head back. The collar was nice, the way it cinched tighter when Steve yanked on it, but immediately loosened when pressure was released. Honestly, he’d usually prefer it, especially how it made him feel kept, owned, treasured even.
But not today; the thought of Steve’s bare hands around his throat was enough to nearly get him there on its own. It was possessive, predatory—Eddie felt claimed, taken. It was rough and dirty and perfect how the callused fingers and palms dragged against the skin of his throat when Steve would indulge in this.
Because, yeah, it was an indulgence, one that Steve was very adamant about limiting. Even with the collar, Steve didn’t like to choke him that often and Eddie knew better than to push about it. Steve had safety concerns, and Eddie couldn’t actually argue when Steve brought up the risks. Well, Eddie often still did argue, but he had to admit that he didn’t have much ground to stand on (not that he ever actually admitted that out loud, but that was beside the point).
The thing was, Eddie knew Steve liked the control, too. Steve would get an almost wild look in his eyes every time he would hook the leash onto the choke collar, and his entire expression turned hazy and blissed out as he pulled it taut. And when he used his hands? Steve was the most brutal, most perfect fuck Eddie had ever experienced.
Steve only ever fucked him with such wild abandon when Eddie was gasping for air.
“Get these clothes off, then,” Steve hummed, stooping to give Eddie’s lips a quick peck and squeezing his hand around the base of his throat just enough to pull a whimper from Eddie’s chest.
When Steve pulled back to give him some room and get the strap, Eddie immediately stripped, tossing his clothes to the side haphazardly before stretching back out across the bed, showing off the expanse of his pale, tattooed body. When Steve returned to the bed wearing just his muscle tee and the strap-on, his eyes roved over Eddie, hungry and demanding. With a small sound Eddie tipped his head back, baring his throat as he spread his legs wider.
“So hot when you’re like this, Eds,” Steve groaned, and Eddie preened under the praise, looking down through his lashes to watch Steve settle on his knees between his legs. With another low sound, Steve ran a hand up Eddie’s inner thigh. “Y’think you need my fingers first, princess?”
Eddie let out a shivery sob and shook his head frantically, trying to spread his legs even wider. Steve loved to finger Eddie, to work his cunt until it was loose and dripping slick down over his asshole and onto the bed. He loved to drive Eddie absolutely insane, to make him come so many times he was close to tapping out before finally giving him the strap he so desperately wanted. That Steve would forgo his favourite act of foreplay… Eddie shuddered as his cunt pulsed and a thick glob of slick dribbled out.
“Hands above your head, princess, wrists crossed,” Steve breathed, groaning thickly when Eddie obeyed immediately. Looming over him, Steve wrapped one of his perfect, huge hands around both of Eddie’s wrists with ease, pinning them to the bed as he lined his cock up and sighed, “Such a good boy for me.”
With a desperate little nod, Eddie keened as Steve pressed his cock inside him, stretching his cunt around the girth in a relentless push until he bottomed out. It was amazing, being pinned down, spread out, and so full, and when Steve shifted his weight onto the hand holding his wrists, Eddie threw his head back as much as he could, begging wordlessly.
Finally, Steve’s rough, callused hand settled gently across Eddie’s throat, his thumb stroking the side of it while Eddie squirmed on his cock. Steve wasn’t fucking him yet, just sitting with his cock deep inside Eddie’s cunt, clearly enjoying the way he shifted impatiently, letting out needy little sounds. Wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, Eddie whined as he tried to get enough leverage to fuck himself on the thick length inside him since Steve wouldn’t do it. For a few glorious moments, Steve allowed the movement, his eyes dark with his arousal as he watched Eddie writhe beneath him.
Then Steve shifted closer on his knees until he was pressed tight against Eddie, stilling his desperate movements as he dropped onto his elbow and readjusting his grip on Eddie’s wrists. Before Eddie could react to the change in their position, the hand across his throat tightened enough to remind Eddie it was there, his breathing becoming just a bit more laboured and his whimpers getting cut off just a bit.
Eddie wasn’t sure how long they laid there, Steve inside him with his big hands around his throat and wrists, Eddie beneath him and gasping for breath. When the hand around his neck tightened, Eddie’s eyes fluttered, and he arched up against Steve’s chest. Eddie felt himself slip deeper and deeper as he laid there, held down and open, his breaths loud through his constricted throat, and he slowly unwound his legs from around Steve’s waist.
“That’s it, sweet boy,” Steve cooed, his hips starting to roll, gently thrusting in and out of Eddie. “Just relax and take it, just like that.”
Eddie would have sobbed if he could get the sound out, his eyes rolling back at the expert way Steve was fucking him. Splaying his legs wide for Steve’s thrusting hips, Eddie fully relaxed beneath him and focused on keeping his breathing as even as possible. The hand around Eddie’s throat tightened even more, almost completely cutting off his airways.
Shuddering, Eddie began the mental countdown from five, his eyes rolling back as Steve’s thrusts became harder, his hips slapping wetly against Eddie’s core. The slick sounds of the strap sliding in and out of his cunt filled Eddie’s head with static and he very nearly lost count. Just before Eddie could snap his fingers, however, Steve released his throat and suddenly he could breathe.
The opening of his airways, and the way Steve let go of his wrists as well to slide both hands under and over his shoulders as leverage for the brutal pace he was setting, had Eddie inhaling with a sharp, keening whine. He was so close even though they couldn’t have been fucking for very long, and Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it at all.
“’M close,” Eddie whimpered when he finally managed to properly breathe let alone form words. He had kept his hands above his head, wrists crossed and aching a bit from the almost punishing grip Steve had on them at the end.
“Such a good boy, warning me,” Steve sighed as he dipped his head to kiss and bite Eddie’s neck, paying special attention to the skin that had been under his hand.
Eddie couldn’t help but sob hoarsely—at the praise, the lack of permission given to come, and the hard thrusts into his cunt. He felt so good, yet so frustrated, but he was Steve’s good boy and he had made it through romps where he was teased way more for much longer. Hell, Eddie wasn’t even being teased, so he wouldn’t complain or whine for more. Eddie would be good and relax, he would take it just like Steve told him to.
“Touch yourself, princess. Make yourself come,” Steve groaned, lifting his head to draw Eddie into a hungry, sloppy kiss, and Eddie didn’t wait to be told twice.
Snaking his hand between their bodies, Eddie got his knuckles around his dick and stroked it hard and fast. He was so caught up in chasing his release, he didn’t even notice that one of Steve’s hands had moved until it was wrapped around his throat once again. The heat that shot through Eddie was intense, his ears ringing as the coil in his gut pulled tight and snapped.
Eddie came with Steve’s hand around his throat, shuddering through it with a strangled sob that was muffled even more by Steve’s tongue in his mouth. His orgasm felt like it went on forever as Steve fucked him through it, his hips barely faltering as Eddie shook apart beneath him. Finally, as Eddie’s whimpers became a bit more pain than pleasure, Steve slowed his thrusts to a stop, though he kept his cock hilted inside Eddie.
“How was that, princess?” Steve asked as he lifted his head to look down at Eddie, his hand just resting over his throat again.
“No, nope, we’ve talked about this, Stevie,” Eddie laughed dazedly. “No questions allowed while my brain is still leaking out of my ears.”
Steve barked out a laugh, dropping a sweet kiss against Eddie’s cheek. “Alright, princess,” he agreed easily, and Eddie sighed.
“Prepare yourself, though. I’m gonna go down on you so hard in, like, thirty minutes,” Eddie promised dreamily, and he grinned tiredly up at the ceiling as Steve let out another loud laugh.
[ READ ON AO3 ]
#steddie#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steve/eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#gerry writes#GoodBoyEddie.#TransmascSteve.
140 notes
·
View notes
Text
“the hell is wrong with you nowadays.” the certain guy with striking orange hair asked (stated). “there’s something different with you that makes me want to break your bones even more.”
the bandaged man continued walking with a happy face that annoyed chuuya again. “you know, i already have a new partner who’s also my best friend.”
chuuya rolled his eyes, seemingly unaffected as he twirls a dagger using his fingers, “yeah, yeah, the glasses guy who’s as rigid as a stick. did you fucking break your brain again with one of your stupid suicidal stunts?”
for a moment there was the complete silence which motivated a lot of many more questions. the shorter guy went alone with his thoughts for a good ten minutes until dazai stopped in his tracks and looked ahead. the ray of the sun finally landing on his figure as they get out of the tunnel they were walking into. but in chuuya’s eyes, it was more metaphorical. as if his previous partner— currently frenemy, finally found the light dazai used to lack and hide away from.
“i’m not talking about him.”
the orange-haired guy’s eyes widened as he saw a timid smile forming on the other figure’s lips. he turned his attention to the one dazai’s been staring at, and managed to let out a shaky breath.
before them, stood you. under the tall trees, with the sun rays peeking through each holes above. there was nothing magnificent or magical about the scene in front of them, really, but to chuuya, he’s now understood. someone finally did change the course of events. something that even he, or oda, or that glasses guy wasn’t able to accomplish.
and for the first time, he didn’t argue, nor pushed questions. chuuya simply smirked and tipped his hat, then quietly walked away after muttering a simple, “be happy.”
#bungou stray dogs#bsd dazai#dazai headcanons#dazai drabble#osamu dazai drabble#osamu dazai#osamu dazai fluff#bsd chuuya#bsd drabble#anime drabble#dazai hcs#osamu dazai headcanon#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Take this. I cried writing it.
No TWs for this one.
They’re running.
It hurts, running this much. Every step he takes feels like a knife digging into his guts. Charlie seems even worse off- he’s stumbling behind, making these horrible, pained sounds.
They should be safe now. God, he hopes they’re safe. He just wants this to be over.
Ranboo skids to a stop and turns to Charlie, catching his struggling friend in his arms.
“You’re okay.” The words feel like a lie. The amount of blood- he’s seen so much blood today- and the paling of Charlie’s skin tells Ranboo all he needs to know.
“I’m okay.” Charlie repeats, nodding. He looks exhausted. “Where are we?”
Ranboo shrugs. “My best guess? Outside. At least we’re out of the facility.”
“Out-outside?” Charlie looks puzzled. “This is outside?”
Those words hurt. Ranboo is once again reminded how horrible Showfall had treated his friend- they had ripped away his memories and had given him a new life, only to tell him in the end it was all a lie.
“I- I don’t.” Charlie’s knees buckle, and Ranboo helps him sit down in the dirt. They’re in a small alcove of trees- from the outside, this mall has been abandoned for a long time, and nature has staked its claim on the land. The sound of birds and the gentle brush of the wind against the leaves make the moment almost seem serene.
“You’ve never been outside?” He grips his friend’s arms. They’re slick with blood.
“I can’t- I can’t remember. But it’s- it’s really nice out here, man.” Charlie pulls away from him and brings his hands to the ground to grip the dirt. “We’re free? They can’t hurt us here?”
“I think so.” Ranboo watches Charlie pull up fistfuls of dirt and rub them between his palms as if fascinated by the texture. “They didn’t even follow us past the doors. We’re safe.”
“That’s great. And you’re okay? Got your memories back?” Ranboo nods and Charlie closes his eyes with a sigh, a relieved smile on his lips.
“Thank fucking god.” He’s collapsing, then, falling into Ranboo’s arms. He catches Charlie, not caring about the blood smearing along his clothes as he grips the body of the only friend he has left.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Charlie mutters in his ear. “Everything is okay now. We’re safe. Ranboo?”
“Yeah Charlie?”
“I think I’m gonna take a nap, okay? I’ve never been outside before. It feels so nice.”
Ranboo shakes his head. “You gotta get up. You can nap later, okay? I know you can’t remember anything, but now you can make your own memories. They don’t control you anymore.”
“This is my memory, Ranboo.” Charlie squeezes him. “I finally get to feel what it’s like to be outside, and I finally get to see you go home. Like it was always meant to be.”
“Charlie-“
“Help me lay down? I wanna feel the grass.”
Ranboo gently lays his friend in the grass, removing his own jacket to tuck under Charlie’s head for comfort.
Charlie pats the ground beside him and Ranboo lays down too. It’s such a nice day- the sun is shining through the trees, casting beautiful rays of light. He wonders what it would be like to see it for the first time.
Charlie looks absolutely mesmerized by the sight and it brings Ranboo to tears. It’s not fair that Charlie won’t get the chance to experience happy things.
“You think this is cool? You should see a sunset.”
“A sunset?” There are tears running down Charlie’s face, but the wide grin tells him they’re happy tears. Just this and he’s ecstatic.
Ranboo sniffles. “Uh, yeah. It’s what happens when the sun goes down. The sky gets filled with all these pinks and yellows and reds. It’s beautiful.”
Ranboo tells him about everything. About sunrises, about the ocean- happy things. All the while, Charlie listens as he digs his hands into the soil, like his committing the feeling to memory.
“It all sounds so nice.” Charlie turns to him. “I’m glad you’ll get to see those things again.”
Fuck. “You should get to see all those things too. It’s not fair.” A sob slips past his lips. “You’ve worked so hard to survive. You didn’t even get your memories back!”
Charlie shrugs, eyes closing as he turns back towards the sky. “My memories, if I ever had any, don’t exist anymore. But this memory? It’s mine. And if it’s the only memory I’ll ever have, then that’s enough for me.”
Ranboo can’t help but let out another sob. If given another chance, he’d take the blow that had fatally injured Charlie. It had been meant for him, after all.
“Tell me about your friends?” Charlie asks. And Ranboo does.
He watches the color slowly fade from Charlie’s eyes as he tells him about his friends and family. He feels so helpless, but Charlie looks so happy to be here in the grass and dirt with the sun shining through the trees, so he keeps going and doesn’t stop until the body beside him goes still.
“Charlie?” Ranboo sits up and looks down at his friend, tears starting anew at the sight.
Charlie’s eyes look towards the sky and he wears a soft smile on his lips- it’s almost peaceful, in a weird way. Charlie has been fighting for even longer than Ranboo has, and he has finally gotten what he had always so desperately wanted.
A memory to call his own. One Showfall can never mess with.
“Goodbye, friend.”
#generation loss#genloss#gl!charlie#gl!ranboo#gl!slimecicle#I wanted to make y’all cry but instead I made myself cry#ugh#I’ll be posting this on AO3 too if you wanna drop a kudos or a comment#caesurah writes
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
Never Fallen From Quite This High
Written for Hideduo Kiss week Day 2: Kiss on the Forehead. This one happened listening to Lana Del Ray and Billie Eilish sing Ocean Eyes at Coachella. These are all going to be late, but I’m have fun.
Content warning: suggestive. Rated 17+
Being with Pac is nothing like being with someone in the Wasteland. Of course Pac is his boyfriend and nobody there had ever been anything so defined. Mostly stolen looks and secret meetings. A small, gay-ass circle loyal to their mutually assured destruction or a group of dudes with no women around deciding it’s close enough if you close your eyes, horny and exciting but not meant to last.
Fit remembers being 23 and having an ongoing thing with one of his basemates. He remembers how he’d stared, without really meaning to, at the corner of his lips when he’d grin at one of their other basemates, his freckles across his nose and cheeks and neck. He remembers the first time someone commented on it and being told with a hand down his pants and a mouth brushing his ear that he was being too obvious and Fit learning quickly how to stop his wandering eyes from giving him away.
Now he spends so much of his time staring at Pac he’s a champ at it. PAC’s got amazingly strong arms that Fit is always happy to see out of his hoodie and long fingers that are calloused and scared with cuts and chemical burns. He’s got a beautiful head of hair a lesser man would be jealous over and a smile with just the right amount of mocking tilt to make it captivating as well as handsome. Then of course his eyes, dark like waters he should not jump into lest he get pulled in further than he could ever hope to escape. Deception wide in shape, hiding clever thoughts and devious schemes. It’s so easy to get caught in them and they belong to his Brazilian boyfriend.
Even now, he’s watching him talk to Tubbo about the train system in the Town of Fobo and Fit can’t stop looking at Pac. He basks in the sound of his voice, quick paced even in English and jovial, watching his mouth form the words of his second language. He lingers briefly at the cool scar beneath the left eye and gets stuck staring at yellow light that reflects off his excited eyes.
He enjoys watching Pac be Pac, like he’s allowed to do it because he is allowed, and Pac notices and Pac looks back at him.
He’s been caught and he feels the old panic rise, even as Pac’s smile gets wider and his posture lighter having turned his attention to Fit, and Fit feels unworthy of it when he turns his gaze away like every instinct is screaming at him to do. It’s such bullshit and Pac deserves better.
He takes a step closer, puts a hand on the back of his shoulder and leans into Pac so he can’t see any more of his weak bullshit. He can’t help the nervousness squirm in him when he feels Tubbo’s eyes watching and has to think ‘Fuck Tubbo’ in order to lessen it, even though, really, Tubbo has nothing to do with it, but it does make him feel better. He presses a quick kiss to the side of Pac’s head as if that was his intention the whole time. As if it’s no big deal for him to do it at an enemy base with their sometimes friend watching it all. He feels Pac stiffen and hears him say his name, but Fit doesn’t have it in him to explain himself right now so he just rests his cheek on the side of his head for a few moments and feels Pac relax, ignoring the sudden heat rising on his cheeks.
“Ain’t no way. I hate gay people,” Tubbo’s voice says beside them and they both snort out a laugh.
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
[18:26] • l.s.m.
Pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader
Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship kind of ig hehehe
Warnings: possessiveness, mild jealousy, mean!seok but he's whipped kind of, fingering but not really, slight choking, a tiny bit of degradation, as usual just hmu if I missed smth
WC: tumblr mobile bby it's kinda short tbh
A/N: unplanned smh but as seokmin's self-proclaimed slut I just kinda had to get it out of my system idk I'm not good at this 🤪 read a line out of a manhwa and yuh went w/ it procrastinating on other things hehe
Update 9/19: [Sequel]
"Aw baby, you're absolutely drooling."
Despite the flush of embarrassment at Seokmin's condescending tone, your hips betray you as they buck up desperately against his hand. Long fingers that have been teasing you for hours gather up your arousal, making sure to spread it all across your outer pussy lips so they glisten in the dim light of his bedroom.
There's enough wetness for him to play with that it's also smeared on both of your inner thighs from Seokmin's hand drifting down to pause at each one while he waits for you to beg. Glancing up at your scrunched forehead as you kneel over one of his thighs, he leans back against the headboard. Almost as if he's bored.
His other hand reaches out to tug at the cute pout that causes the corners of your mouth to turn down. "Your pussy is at least. Cute."
"Seokmin... "
"Is it that hungry for my cock?"
You whine and throw your head back, nails digging into the top of his shoulders as you rut desperately against his palm, hoping a finger may slip inside your needy cunt.
But Seokmin remains firm. Palm remaining flat and fingers stiffly held horizontally. A smile grows on his lips but it's not the sweet, bright ray of happiness everyone's used to. It's downright cruel, complimenting the hard set of his jaw, furrowed eyebrows, and darkened gaze.
"That's not the answer I want." He pulls away to lick his fingers clean, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he tastes you on his tongue before they open again. Narrowed and colder than before. "What do I want to hear from that lovely mouth of yours?"
"I'm... I'm yours."
He lets out a hum. "That thought's nice but not it."
"I-I don't understa — "
Mirthless laughter you hardly recognize is drowned out by your loud gasp when he harshly gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and uses it to tug your face close. Merely inches apart. Enough that your breath mingles with his but holding you distant so your lips can't touch his.
"How about, 'yes Seokmin, my pathetic, perfect little pussy wants you in it so bad.'"
"Y-ye — "
"'Fuck me stupid so I can't walk straight.'" A finger traces around your hole that desperately aches for it to enter. "'So I don't think about anything except your cock deep, deep inside me. Every single day, every single night.'"
"Please — "
"'Enough so no other man even dares to make a move on me.' Hm?"
You have to smile smugly at that one. "I knew it. You're jealous. Baby, there's absolutely no reas — "
The world spins as Seokmin easily switches positions, flipping you on your stomach. He's above you, pinning you down with the strength of his own body before kneeling behind you and running a hand up and down your back. Softness resonates from his fingertips despite the venom behind his words, as if he's suddenly afraid of breaking you.
"There's absolutely no reason to feel that way," you finish with a gasp. "You know tha — "
"I said, that's not what I wanted to hear." Seokmin interrupts and frowns even though he can't help but appreciatively look at the way you arch your back prettily for him. Showing off your dripping pussy from another angle. "Seems like you don't listen very well, sweetheart."
"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it."
You're feisty attitude returns like you have the upper hand now that you know the reason behind Seokmin's different demeanor tonight. And you take every advantage of it, grinding your ass coyly against the bulge of his dick still inside his jeans.
About two seconds of your shenanigans last before he's pulling you up by your hair again, the back of your body pressed snug up against his. A hand wrapping around your throat to keep you still. He squeezes lightly and you moan.
"What am I going to do about it? Don't worry, I'm gonna fuck you silly, darling." A shiver of excitement crawls up your spine when you hear his belt buckle jingle. "But that's only if you behave. You know what to say to get what you want."
"Ah," you gasp out and tug at his hands, bringing them to fondle at your chest. "Please fuck me stupid, Seokmin. So I think of nobody but you and everyone knows that. This pussy and body belongs to you. I'm yours."
He kisses your neck, pleased. Like he wasn't fuming and demanding such words. "As you wish, my love."
#ez.creates#lee seokmin smut#lee dokyeom smut#dk smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#kpop smut#seokmin smut#dokyeom smut#svt.smut
414 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ray, light of my days, the most fucking embarrassing thing happened to me lmao
So today I learned that I'm on the asexual spectrum and I never knew because I learned at a young age that intimacy=sex, but I haven't even got to do anything but kiss and cuddle my bf for over a year now and I've never been this happy and fulfilled
Which by the way is the reason my bf isn't/was never really jealous of the frankly embarrassing amount of people I've slept with: this bitch has known me most of my life and already knew that I'm not really into sex he just didn't know I didn't know lmao
Like we've been dancing around each other for years before we got together and this man really went "no matter who you're fucking I'm the one that gives you emotional fulfillment so at the end of the day the winner is me"
It's also a lil embarrassing that I'm only now learning what I like because I've been on the scene for almost a decade
Also if this is too personal feel free to delete lol
Hey babe just know you're not alone. There are tons of people out there who learn later on in life that their sexuality isn't as cut and dry as they'd grown up thinking it was.
At the end of the day though I'm glad that you got to learn something new about yourself that made things make a bit more sense for you AND that you've got a partner that seems to be very supportive and genuinely caring.
41 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
kidskribble
Art of Micah Lewis
plannedspontaniety
Opinion Is A Matter of Choice
kidskribble
Art of Micah Lewis
l-a-r-98
🌼L A R.
l-a-r-98
🌼L A R.