#but she’s so miserable about it?? like if u don’t wanna be around us then go. I do not know what her problem is

[bubuslutty]

Angel on Duty: the first meeting

All Parts

pairing: demon/angel fem!reader x 141

word count: 2.1k

tags: semi-canon compliant, reader is described as having a tail and horns but calls herself 'Angel', do what you will with her real nature but she's simply sent down to fulfil a wish, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Angel', 3rd person pov, minimal description of appearance, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warning: none

summary: the 141 boys have a fantasy to get captain price the fuck of his life, but also share it amongst themselves, a shared cumdump if you will. which basically translates into "we need a woman to break our miserable old man, and break us in the process and rebuild us again just to do it all over again." they're just miserable and pent up and horny and want to be taken care of, that's all :)

a/n: there's no smut in here cuz this is just the intro. bon appétit either way 💞 also let me know if u wanna be added to my cod taglist 😖

What do you know about prayer? About wishing? Blowing birthday candles and wishing upon a star?

Ever since the beginning of time, it is man's nature to wish, hope and pray. To whom? That has always changed and shifted throughout the centuries, with prayers sent to different deities, angels, ancestors and so on.

But what humans don’t know is that all of their prayers, all of their wishing, if it was strong enough, if they really want it, really bad, their wishes just might become reality. And that was all done through a meticulously built system in another realm, where what humans considered angels worked day and night to realise them.

“Hold on, you’re not about to give me this much work when I’m literally getting paid minimum wage.” A woman said, waving a folder around in the air with wide eyes.

“If you have an issue, you can take it up to HR.” A man said unimpressed, not even looking up from his computer.

“Haha, funny. Seriously, why the hell did I get one wish and what? 8 humans??” The woman said, slapping the folder on the desk, making the man hiss in annoyance.

“Why must you be so difficult? It’s one wish and 8 humans who have the same wish? What’s so hard to understand? Get down there and do your thing.” The man said, visibly irritated, trying to shoo her away with one hand.

“You sent this down to my office and did not expect me to have questions?? If all little boys' wishes about becoming the next Ronaldo could be realised, Sandra down the sixth fraction would have 82 thousand humans, alone, to go through!” The woman said, hands on her hips and standing with her knees to the desk’s edge, casting her shadow on the man sitting in front of her.

“Who’s Sandra?” The man asked.

“I don’t know.”

The man finally stopped staring at his computer screen and stood up, rounding up his desk and grabbing the folder in his hand, “Did you even read the reports?”

“No, just the first page.” The woman said, twirling a hair strand in her finger while the man stared at her with an unimpressed look.

“For fuck sake…Okay, see here?” He said, pointing at the wish, which was a paragraph long. The woman nodded and he kept going, “This group of humans share the same wish, or fantasy to be more realistic, and it’s all linked together through one man.” He explained, flipping to another page and tapping a finger on a man’s profile and picture.

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” She said with a gasp, eyes flashing with a red light that made the man gulp and quickly look away from her face.

“They all work together and have this complex dynamic of friends, but also family, but also this relationship,” He said, flipping through the other profiles, and letting her look at every picture.

“What does that mean?” The woman tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“Their whole thing is a tangled mess of different dynamics with each other, but it all comes down to the first man I showed you, he’s like the glue of their team, but he’s what keeps them whole and sane, individually.” He said and glanced back at her and noticed her confusion but also the amazement on her face.

“They are fascinating…”

The man placed the folder back in her hands and turned to get his desk phone, “They are, now I’m going to call Beck to confirm some last details and you should be down in the mortal realm by tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!”

“They’re moving in tomorrow, and so are you.” He said and watched her leave his office with a shocked but excited expression nonetheless. He walk out of the door without having to touch it for it to wing open, the long black tail swinging back and forth, poking from under her short skirt and the horns that almost grazed the top of the doorframe.

.

.

.

The woman stood in front of a beautiful house in the middle of London, hugging a white cat with black ears and a black tail to her chest as a lorry parked in the street, next to her taxi. “I guess this is where I’ll be living for the next weeks… Not bad.” She said, petting the furball in her arms while the taxi driver removed her bags from the trunk.

“Thank you.” She thanked the man with a smile, and he smiled back, a blush high on his cheekbones and reluctantly left, glancing at her over his shoulder every two steps.

Then another man approached her, dressed in a blue shirt and hat, “The keys ma’am?”

“Oh yes, sorry.” She gasped, placing the cat on the ground and running to her bag, retrieving a set of keys and handing them out to the man with a small smile.

“Thank you.” He nodded and started walking to the house while other men dressed in the same uniform spilt out of a van, surrounded the lorry and started helping each other in carrying furniture inside the house while she stood to the side, watching.

Suddenly another car parked in the driveway of the house right next to hers, and she watched with curiosity as four men exited the car, looking tired but excited at the same time. They looked huge, carrying dark green and black bags on their shoulders and heading straight to the door, but without glancing at the woman.

She fought against a grin and held eye contact, her cat, Kuromi, purring against her leg. Then she moved before she could think.

The four men froze at their doorstep, still staring at her as she walked up to them. That day she was wearing a back suit with black heels and a black bralette instead of a button-up, the trousers hugging her hips so well along with her legs.

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself as your new neighbour. I’m Angela Ali, but you can call me Angel.” She introduced her fake name and gave herself a better nickname, internally snickering at the irony.

“Well, hello, we’re also new here.” Soap spoke when nobody said anything, he even smiled back at the beautiful woman.

Her eyes widened in surprise, both at his thick Glaswegian accent and the information he just gave her (which she already knew but she had to act the part), “Really? I had no idea! Maybe we can be friends and look out for each other in this neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’m Johnny MacTavish, by the way.” He finally introduced himself and stuck out his hand, and when she shook his hand, he felt tingles at the bottom of his spine, making him let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m John, John Price.” The second man said, sticking out his hand and keeping his eyes respectfully on her face and nowhere else. It was so stupid, he was tired, yes, but not that tired to be easily dumbfounded by a random beautiful woman. And John prided himself in his manners, so when his eyes landed on her body as she walked up to them, he couldn’t help but drink in every dip and swell like he was deprived.

That’s so embarrassing.

Angel smiled and shook his hand, shivering when his warm big rough hands engulfed her smaller one. He was the same man she called beautiful that day she received her wish file. And he was, not in the way humans usually described something as beautiful. But to her, despite his huge body, thick thighs and arms, deep voice and beard, his eyes held something in them that pulled her in. She could sense the man’s thoughts, emotions, wants and needs.

“Nice to meet you, John.” She smiled at the man and turned to greet the other two, who both introduced themselves as Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick.

Simon was wearing a simple black surgical mask, covering the lower half of his face. But she already knew what he looked like, she has his profile. She knows he has a scar that runs through his upper lip on the left side of his face.

His pale blue eyes were intense, looking at her, calculating, careful, as if she was a threat, someone to look out for.

Angel let him be, staring as much as he wanted.

Kyle on the other hand was all smiley, radiating warmth and friendliness. He was handsome and charming, and made Angel want to talk to him for two hours straight. Did I mention his smile? That man's smile is absolutely beautiful. You would never guess he's a soldier, a killer, a beast in the field.

“I’ll let you get settled, now. See you around!” She said and turned around, walking back to her house, noticing that her bags were moved and Kuromi was meowing by the door while men in uniforms were still working as fast as they could, unpacking everything and placing the furniture where it belonged. She reached the door and picked up the cat, gave her a kiss on her little head and looked over her shoulder and saw how the four men were still staring at her, and they all immediately stumbled inside their house, slamming the door shut behind them.

Angel giggled and finally stepped inside her new home, shaking her head.

.

.

.

Angel lay on her stomach, on her new queen-sized bed with a pizza box on her side and a laptop casting its bright light on her face. She took another bite of her pizza and read through the document on the screen, which was a digital version of her wish file, with extra documents going more into detail about each man she was to work on for the next weeks.

“Alright, what do we have here? Childhood trauma…Oh, oh, poor lad…” She frowned at the screen and read along the lines explaining some of the things Simon went through, she had read almost everyone’s files in detail, and it was already dark out, probably around 11PM. Angel checked the time and gasped when she realised it was actually 2AM.

She even had files about their careers, she just quickly skimmed through them just to see if there was anything serious to watch out for, but ignored everything else, just because she wanted to give a chance for the men to surprise her, it wasn’t very fun when she knew everything. Plus she was going to spend a couple of weeks on this job, so she might as well make it fun for herself.

Her horns and her tail were nowhere to be seen because it was a rule to hide one's true identity when in the mortal realm, or at least the form they like to wear in the wish realm. And hers was a pair of horns and a tail because she thinks it's funny to take on the form of a demon when humans think their prayers and wishes go to angels.

She was not an angel, nor a demon for that matter really, her whole existence revolves around realising human's wishes, and her form? She can take on anything she feels comfortable in. But when she's interacting with humans, she must take on a human form to hide her true nature.

Her phone suddenly rang and she flinched, looking down at the vibrating device. On the screen, a clock and a reminder to 'EAT FOOD' could be seen. She turned off the reminder and hummed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm eating.."

You see, Angel, still struggles to get into the habit of eating regularly when in human form. No matter how many jobs she's completed, she somehow still forgets to eat because you don't have to eat in her realm, you don't even need to sleep or go to the toilet. So setting herself a reminder on her phone is necessary if she doesn't want to suddenly drop.

"Oh, I forgot to read my own files." She gasped, sitting up straight and placing her laptop on her lap. After a few clicks, she opened her own files, highlighting her new identity and timetable.

"Okay, I'm an only child… Single, of course, duh, and my job is a sex therapist!" She said, brows raised and quickly reading next lines. "I only have to go to the office two days a week?... Nice. And I'm a PhD student… in psychology?.."

Angel groaned and fell on her back, her laptop still in her hands, it seems like she needs to start doing some research on human education.

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): currently empty

[captainjamster]

hi i have a request Price gives stress relief to reader

if youre too busy thats fine

i absolutely read your username instead of price and started writing for graves until i realised, so uhhh... this idea but with phil coming at some point! also wasn't sure if you meant stress relief or stress relief, so this gets nsfw!!

thank u for the ask my little sunshine i hope you enjoy, i am never too busy for a request, especially not from a fellow graves lover <3

Pairing(s): Price x AFAB!reader (no gendered nicknames or pronouns) Warnings: NSFW, fingering, light dirty talk Wordcount: 2.2k Summary: Price gives you a hand winding down after a frustrating day at work, though mutual satisfaction is on his mind. AO3 Link: Right here <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

The pages rustle as John flickers through them, smoothing out with the tapping of your phone to create a peaceful, white noise. Yet despite the atmosphere, a heavy weight presses on your chest, brow furrowed and shoulders tight as you scroll through your apps. You can feel John's eyes on you, taking in your sullen form as you glare a hole into your screen.

"You're quiet, love."

John breaks the silence, looking down at his book again. You take a moment to compile a response, debating whether to delve into the frustrations of your week.

"Just a day, I guess."

He takes in the short, avoidant answer, thumbing the pages of his book. "Don't want to talk about it?"

"I don’t know. Not really."

John looks at you again, and this time, you turn to him too.

"Can I hold you?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. The moment your head inches forward, the book thuds onto his bedside table with a careless toss, immediately spreading his arms open. "C'mere, sweetheart."

You crawl into his lap, curling up and sinking into him. His arms wrap around you reflexively, bringing your head to rest against the bristle of his chest, the other arm rubbing up and down your back. He doesn't press the subject, just sets a steady pace to inhale and exhale with, rocking you softly with each breath.

After a few minutes, you initiate conversation yourself, mumbling against the skin of his sternum.

"So... Shit. Everything is so shit."

"Shit, love?"

You rub your cheek against his chest hair as you nod. "I hate people."

"Yeah?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, the feeling of burning frustration reignites in your lower stomach as you spill out an angry tirade. "God, I just want to tear their fucking heads off sometimes! I want one day, just one day, where I can speak my mind. I could ask them "oh, I'm sorry, is your fucking price wrong? Okay, now is it MY fault or YOUR fault that you didn't check the coupon was in date before you used it?" Maybe their fucking brains would start working if I didn’t have to just smile and say “yes customer, no customer! Whatever you want customer!” like the stupidest shit didn’t just come out their mouth!”

You turn, back pressed to his stomach as you gesture agitatedly. "I can't stand it! "Oh, oh! I dropped this jar and now it's cracked! Can I get it for free? Oh, my kid ate half of this apple, but he doesn't want it, so I'll just put it back on display! Let's berate this minimum-wage worker because the line was slightly long at midday, like they have any control over that!" Like, why do people become such monsters whenever they step foot into a store? My friend from that clothing shop down the street? She said someone tried to return a whole bag of dirty underwear, like what the fuck?"

Huffing, your jaw clenches tight as you cross your legs, flopping your head back against his shoulder dramatically.

"I'm sorry, baby." He murmurs lowly, running his hands up your arms, digging his thumbs into the tense flesh of your shoulder. "S'not fair, you deserve to be treated better than that, your friend too."

You soften into his arms, biting at the inside of your cheek. “I just wanna quit. Management sucks, everyone else working there is just as miserable. No wonder their turnover rate is so high.”

John’s hand drops down from your shoulder, running past your chest to rest against your midriff. "Always can, doll. Put in your two weeks, live off what I've got in the bank 'til y'find a better position. Y'know I'd let you never work a day in your life, if you'd let me."

His tone is gentle and passive, content in his reminder with your desire to keep financial independence and stay busy when he leaves for deployment. The room falls into silence again as you nestle into an arm, manoeuvring it to rest over your chest like a seatbelt and clip between your legs. His other arm rests along the length of your leg, and you feel him lean his weight back against the bed’s head as you continue thinking, playing with his arm hair absent-mindedly. John is content to let you fiddle away, his hand caught in the grip of your thighs comfortably, thumb traces little circles against the skin it rests between.

His body shifts underneath you after a few minutes of quiet, readjusting to move closer. You’re suddenly flush against him as he sits up, pulling you tighter against his soft, sturdy chest and pressing a kiss to the back of your head. The movement surprises a squeak out of you, squirming before a pressure against the crotch of your underwear stills you. Warm air brushes against your hair as John huffs in amusement, readjusting the hand cupped against your sex in an effort to tug you closer, intentionally positioning his hand to spread and fully cover your mound.

"John..."

He hums in response against your neck, lips pressed into the skin.

"Your hand."

"My hand, dove?" He pulls away, leaving one last kiss behind your ear.

"It's, ahhh...”

He flexes his fingers tighter for a second, the increase in pressure barely stimulating the sensitive nerves beneath. “What? Just movin’ you closer, ‘n my hand’s nice and warm down there.”

The playfully avoidant answer earns him an exasperated groan, though the desire seeping into you leaves it breathier than you’d like.

“Want me to stop?”

You shake your head before he can finish the sentence, grip tightening on his forearm. The vibration of his chuckles jostles you against his torso, warming your cheeks. Before you can exclaim your embarrassment, he shifts under the blankets and nudges your legs open, his feet hooking round your ankles to pin them apart. “How about some stress relief, hm? Get all those yucky feelings out for the night.”

His fingers trail teasingly against the hemline of your elastic, running his nails over the soft fat that meets the cotton barrier. All it takes is a “yes, please” for his fingers to breach the elastic, honing to your entrance only to glide back up the damp skin of your lips. At your whining insistence, his fingers deftly pull your lips apart, using his middle finger to collect the slick gathering between your folds and lather it against your clit. Your hips jerk at the contact, and John tuts, chasing your hips to flick his thumb over the sensitive button. “Askin’ for it, but y’won’t sit still, huh? Jus’ wanna help my baby feel better.”

Moving his arm to cup your chest, his hand crawls under your shirt to pinch your nipple, sending shivers down your spine as he rolls it between his fingers. Your whimpers only egg him on, emboldening him to trace little circles around your clit as he works to build the delicious tension growing between your legs.

Warmth flushes through your body, combining with the body heat radiating from John’s chest against your back, leaving you burning up in your own desire. It only takes minutes of John’s ministrations to draw wet squelches from between your legs, filling your ears as your eyes flutter closed, focusing on the way John’s fingers curl and tease around your most sensitive spot.  

“John, please…”

He takes your unspoken request without argument, leaving the begging for another night as his fingers leave your swollen nub to graze against your needy entrance. Your hole twitches at the slight contact, clenching as if to draw him in, eliciting a chuckle from John that goes unchallenged in your distracted state. Catching a line of slick dribbling down your perineum, he guides it back up, coating his fingers before he dips a digit into your hole.

You hiss wantonly at the sensations, hips bucking up to urge his finger in deeper, and John tuts. “Keep still, needy thing. Tryna play with this pretty cunt properly.”

He teases you with a sole finger, crooking it to stroke against the spongey muscle that has you leaking with each pass. Despite the stimulation, the single digit leaves your needy cunt feeling empty, fluttering against the intrusion with a desperation until you’re mewling for more.

“I know, y’need more, pet,” he murmurs into the skin behind your ear, dropping kisses down to your jaw. “Let me take care of you.”

The thick finger retreats from within you, leaving you whining in complaint as your hips chase his touch. Your eager hips are met with a firm spank to your folds, leaving John’s fingers trailing with slick as you gasp and retreat to the mattress, back against the protruding bulge in his lap. The compliance is rewarded with a soothing swipe of his fingers along your stinging lips, collecting arousal against his calloused skin. His fingertips circle teasingly at your entrance again, tracing the quivering muscle as he chuckles at your reactivity. Sensing the protest rising in you, he silences it with a swift thrust of his fingers, filling you up again.

His fingers work like they were designed to coax the stress from you with each drag, replacing the tension with a buzzing need for release that has you flexing and relaxing in waves against him. The pressure builds in the pit of your stomach as his fingers pump in and out of you, his other hand abandoning your breast and travelling down to reclaim its spot nestled against your clit, rolling tight circles around the nerve ending in harmony with the drive of his digits. He masterfully orchestrates your undoing, timing each thrust with each involuntary grind of your hips, kissing the salt from your neck as your head lulls against his shoulder, panting.

“Fuck, right there, m’so close John,” you moan, hands fumbling to find something to grip, finding purchase in his hairy thighs. The way your nails sink into the meat of his muscle has him groaning in your ear, breaking his smooth rhythm with a particularly deep thrust as he struggles to contain his enthusiasm. “Fuck, sweetheart, my god.”

Your cunt tightens so fiercely around his fingers that you’re sure they’re being crushed together as your orgasm hits you, squeezing the digits like you could milk the life out of them if you tried hard enough. John hums praise against your neck as he waits for your walls to relax to resume lazily thrusting in and out through the last sparks your climax, his own breath laboured as you tremble in his embrace.

His hand remains between your legs, fingers snug within you as your breathing evens out, the other travelling to trace small circles on the inside of your thigh. You float on the high of your orgasm, sweaty and satisfied as the strain dissipate from your legs, relaxing against John’s.

“Any improvement?”

You give him a breathless giggle, pulling your eyes open to tilt back and look at him. “Yeah, don’t feel like decapitating someone anymore.”

“Good.” He gives you a pleased smile, dotting a kiss on the corners of your lips. His face is warm and flushed, eyes still hazy with lust as he looks down at you, which brings a thought to your mind.

“Do you want me to take care of you…?”

His expression flickers to something guarded behind the smile, gently disentangling himself from your body. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he announces gruffly, clearing his throat as he ducks into the bathroom. You frown, gazing at his retreating figure as you shuck off your soiled underwear, waiting for his return. He re-emerges with a damp cloth, crawling across the bed to kneel between your still spread legs, wiping delicately at the mess of arousal sticking to the sensitive surface of your skin.

The cloth is slightly warm as he pats at any excess water, collecting your dirty underwear as he pulls away. Walking to the closet, he discards the used fabrics in the laundry basket, grabbing another pair of underwear for you. Readjusting the sheets and blankets, you watch him quickly tug off his boxers, grabbing another pair that he manages to pull around his knees before you gasp in realisation.

“John, you didn’t?”

He turns around with a bashful expression, tucking himself into the crotch as he grins. “What? Pretty thing like you grinding up against me like that, can’t help myself.” Giving up with discretion, he chucks his own soiled boxers into the basket, returning to the bed with your underwear in an outstretched hand.

You pull them on as he climbs in next to you, tucking himself under the covers as you turn off the lamp and join him. He raises his arm, holding the blankets up like a cave as you grin sleepily, shuffling across the sheets to scoot into his embrace. The covers descend on you as John takes care to tuck them underneath you, entangling your legs between his as his hand finds home in your hair.

“Thank you, John. Was feeling really shitty about that.” You whisper into his chest, blinking your eyes closed as a sleepy warmth grows heavy in your limbs.

John grunts, patting at your hair. “S’what I’m made for, lookin’ after you. Get some sleep 'n we’ll work everythin’ out in the morning.”

A smile tugs at your lips as the last whisps of consciousness fade from your mind, and a gruff I love you is the last thing you remember before falling asleep.

[shurisnovia]

new acc!!

Hey, this is my new account my old account was theloveofyolife with one E then I changed it to hoestopcopyingmyshit THEN I changed it to yasminsuckadickhoe. But I’ve come to the point where I’ve decided to make a new account because this girl named Yasmin kept harassing me and copying my user, going into peoples anons with her homophobic bs pretending to be me and I literally have screenshots of someone telling me that she was changing her user the EXACT same time as I was to make it seem like I was the one saying the things that she was saying. But something that doesn’t sit right with me is pretending to be bisexual just so you could make your page exactly like mine.. idk bout you Yasmin but I love women and I love coochie so I didn’t just put “ Bisexual “ in my bio as an accessory I put it there because that’s what my sexuality is.. now as for you your going around in ppls anons telling people your bisexual and that u aren’t homophobic but last time I checked you was the same bitch going into peoples anons being homophobic, posting on your account tagging people in your homophobic bs trynna argue with people about Letitia’s sexuality when its been clear that We don’t care about her sexuality and at the end of the day it doesn’t matter who she’s with as long as she’s happy. Like you been doing this shit for months.. don’t you ever get tired?? Like genuinely what your doing is sick asf .. making fake accounts of people to be homophobic .. I had 3-4 ppl try and argue w me yesterday and today bc they thought I was you , I don’t want no part of your homophobic tomfoolery leave me alone like your bored as hell . And y’all homophobes the same ones trynna call us weird and yet look at the shit y’all be doing just to prove y’all point which y’all are failing miserably at.. so who’s rlly the weird one?? Like the call is coming from inside the house. But yea anyways this is my new acc I’m starting fresh bc I wasn’t gon deal with this bs today. Again the person on yall anons and tagging y’all in they post was Yasmin not me, and I have screenshots to if any of y’all wanna see that.

[taegularities]

Heyyy Rid💜~~ hope you doin greatt✨💜~~...So yea here's my ask for 'RUINED YOU'

jungkook and oc meeting taehyung after like 6 months,

oc doesn't know about jungkook and taehyung' plan ( yknow 👀 back to square one i seriously want them to go back ahhjsjjsjskks )

taehyung stucking a strand of hair behind oc's ear while she was glancing his lips (obviously taehyung saw👀), “I can see how much you want to taste me.”

Them going back to taehyung' place “Come over here. No, don’t stand – crawl.”

I know you'll write much much better than this 👆😂

fic: ruin you pairing: bf!jk x reader x fwb!tae warnings: sexual tension, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, oral (m. rec.), dom!taehyung, kinda threesome wc: 625 a/n: hey love, i'm doing okay, hope u are well too !! so with the ruin you request – i changed it up a little, since 6 months later, tae finds a!oc (from ruined) and wouldn't even think about going back to ry!oc 😭 that was the main point of ‘remedy’ actually !! so i made this drabble take place when their escapades were still ongoing <33 also, i missed those guys

ask my character! (no more drabble requests, please!) <3

–

"Uh... when you said it'd be okay for you to do that again, you meant it, huh?" you ask, eyes fixated on Jungkook, because you won't dare to look at the other man present in the room.

He looks amused, a thumb on his lower lip.

"I won't be offended if you say no," Taehyung tells you. The pout doesn't fit his alluring stance... the fog in his eyes.

"I mean, judging the last time..."

"She's just shy," Jungkook argues, planting a palm against the small of your back, "I do think she wants it."

Taehyung steps closer, eyeing you up and down; hunger is already dripping from his gaze as he asks, "Yeah? Do you?"

His voice is deep and tempting. Miserably inviting. Kim Taehyung is a powerful man, and he seems to know.

Close enough to feel his hot breath fanning against your cheek, Taehyung raises a hand.

Long fingers opt for your loose hair strands, tucking them behind your ear gently and cautiously; like you're made of glass.

Your stare drops to his mouth, and he notices; traps his lower lip between his teeth. And when he speaks again, his tone is anything but gentle and cautious, "Say you don't wanna taste me."

You're baffled and still, unable to mutter a single word. Your focus darts to Jungkook for a moment, and he nods; and as you swallow the lump in your throat and look back to Taehyung, he adds, "But it's written all over your face that you want to, baby."

Drenching your guts and your words in courage, you inch closer to his body. He’s dressed in dark slacks, sporting a white shirt. Fresh out of the office, tugging along with Jungkook.

And now you're all here; in your room, clothed for a movie night... not expecting this.

That is, until you’re not clothed anymore at all, but bare on your king sized bed.

Drooling and gasping, sighing when Taehyung sets his girthy length free. Jungkook’s body lingers next to yours, attentive eyes following your movements.

“Come to me, kitten,” Taehyung beckons with an ocean deep voice; his gravity pulls you closer almost unnoticeably.

You get on your knees, creeping closer, ready to get off the bed and bruise your knees on the ground.

But Taehyung clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and scolds, “No. No need to stand. Crawl.”

He uses your obedience well, you notice. Keeps enjoying your pliant nature: a steadfast grip around your hair; hooded eyes looking down; lips parted when you swallow him whole.

The tears trailing down your face are an artwork; the moans you elicit delicious; your ass an absolute treat when he finally bends you over and enters you slowly.

Then proceeds hard.

Pushes your body forwards, a hand around your neck, leaving you begging for air.

Which doesn’t get better once Jungkook’s shaft penetrates your mouth.

The whole affair passes nearly wordlessly, though the room is filled with sounds too lewd to secure you a place in heaven anymore.

And when everything is said and done, your pussy battered very much like the last time, you feel your mind shift. Dozing off, your limbs aching, your body covered in sweat.

“C’mon,” your boyfriend whispers, patting your thigh.

He grabs your arm and pulls you up carefully; turns on the shower and leads you under it.

Despite the prior intimacy, Taehyung doesn’t join you both. Instead, he awaits his turn and your return, alone in your room, staring at a ceiling that doesn’t belong to him.

He might not know you thoroughly, but the feeling after the closeness you just shared is undoubtedly new and strange to him.

And when you return with Jungkook in tow, happy and smiling, he thinks he has a hunch why.

what did i need bullet points for, this is a whole ass proper drabble smh

[ginger-canary]

Let’s Talk About the Orb

852 words

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Ayda Aguefort & Kristen Applebees, Adaine Abernant & Ayda Aguefort, Kristen Applebees/Tracker O'Shaughnessey (minor)

Characters: Ayda Aguefort, Kristen Applebees, Adaine Abernant, Fig Faeth (minor), Gorgug Thistlespring (minor), Tracker O'Shaughnessey

Additional Tags: famous au, where the twist is we're not doing it the easy way, u think research can't get u anywhere think again everyone knows darwin, D20bingo

Summary:

Ayda's a famous researcher. Kristen's the prophet of Cassandra. Adaine's the oracle. You'd think that means they get to decide what they do because they have a lot of power, right? Sike. Please enjoy this little story about them escaping an elitist event to go hang in a cafe.

AO3 link here or use the read more down below. For the @dimension20bingo slot: famous AU.

There were many things Ayda Aguefort found fascinating. The effect of caffeine on different species. Why some spell components are more powerful than others. What the effect of heat is on specific plants. The list went on and on. But she didn’t care for small talk.

Now, she fully understood that in order to keep getting funding she had to keep presenting her findings to those who had gold coins to burn. That part was fine, she enjoyed standing in front of her holograms, confident in her full understanding of the subject. But the parties afterwards? Not so much. 

After a few of those ridiculous parties full of small foods, elitist humanoids, and objectively ugly priceless art- Ayda made a friend. Or more, Kristen decided she was her friend. 

Kristen Applebees, the first prophet of Cassandra, spoke regularly at these events. With her goddex at her beck and call, the elite could not deny the existence of this forgotten god. So instead they made sure she stuck with them. Kristen knew, though. She went to the events, ate all the tiny food she wanted, and spoke to everyone who seemed a little miserable. 

Ayda had never seen anyone look as miserable as Adaine Abernant, the Oracle. 

Kristen and Ayda had just been heading toward a plate filled with miniature tacos when they spotted some blonde hair peeking out from the top of a fern. 

“Oh I gotta know what that’s about.” Kristen made a sharp turn towards the fern as Ayda Mage-handed some tacos. Might as well achieve both goals. 

“Hi.” Kristen said to the fern. “Are you okay?” 

The fern wiggled and an elf around Kristen’s age stepped out from behind it. Her hair had a few leaves sticking out and she grimaced. “Hello. Some of my parents’ friends are here. I despise them and they will endanger me if they spot me.”

“Endanger you?” Ayda repeated. 

The blonde girl sighed and looked around, then snuck into one of the hallways. After exchanging a questioning look, Kristen and Ayda followed her. 

“So, what’s up? I’m Kristen by the way.” She extended her hand.

“Adaine Abernant.” Adaine shook it.

“The Elven Oracle?” Ayda cocked her head. 

Crossing her arms, she replied, “the Oracle. Elves cannot claim me for themselves, especially considering the fact that they tried to lock me up in an orb.”

“I’m sorry. The Oracle. I am Ayda Aguefort.” She held out her hand like Kristen had done, hoping it was still the correct move.

Wordlessly, Adaine shook it. 

“So, you wanna get out of here? I know a cafe we can go to, you could explain the whole giant orb thing?” Kristen drew a circle in the air. 

Ayda glanced back at her fellow researchers. Most of them were standing around in a little circle, coats in hand. If they were leaving, she’d be allowed to leave too. 

“Can we just leave?” Adaine raised her eyebrows.

“There’s no specific end time on the invitation, so we can technically leave whenever we want.” She squared her shoulders and added, “what are they going to do, stop us?” 

Adaine looked back once more. “Okay, let’s go. Don’t let the elves see me.” 

After successfully smuggling Adaine out of the building, Kristen led them through a long series of narrow streets covered in colourful shops and posters. The pebbled walkway felt unfamiliar underneath Ayda’s feet but she didn’t want to risk being seen flying away from the event. She tried to keep a map of the area in her mind but the environment was too new to her and she stuck to trying to look at everything they passed. 

Finally Kristen led them into a cafe with large windows, a few long pillows covering the windowsills where cats snoozed in the sunlight. In the corner there was a coffee bar with all sorts of treats. Behind the bar stood a girl with the sides of her head shaved and a whole set of piercings covered the length of her ears. When she looked up from her work, the girl winked at Kristen.

“Uhh,” Adaine started, seeming lost in the space. 

“That’s my girlfriend, Tracker. She makes good coffee, I promise. Over there’s more quiet spaces if you want to borrow one of the books from the bookshelves.” Kristen pointed to a corner mostly taken up by cats, then to a towering library-grade bookshelf filled to the brim with colourful spines. “And if you want to see a fun performance- there we got Fig and Gorgug, they’re a band.” She waved to another corner.

Ayda followed all of Kristen’s pointing until she lay sight on who she presumed was Fig. A relatively short tiefling girl wearing ripped fishnets, a plaid skirt, and a crop top grinned wildly as she watched her friend do tricks with his drumsticks. “Fascinating,” she whispered to herself.

“What?” 

“Nothing of importance.” Ayda turned her head back to her new friends. 

Three minutes later, they sat in the music corner each with a large coffee and some cookies. 

Kirsten picked up her mug. “So, let’s talk about the orb.”

[filthy-ratrace]

Feeling like shit. Feeling lost & like I don’t belong anywhere. Definitely wanna fall back on a lot of this social media shit & tryna hang out with people I don’t really like & who don’t really like me either.

I’m cool with being alone for the first time in my life. I am happy to be alone b.c I know I’m safe & happy.

I used to be scared of being alone & scared of being alone with my feelings & thoughts.

Now I feel like I need to be alone with my thoughts & my emotions. That’s how u learn to control them.

Otherwise people around you will control your emotions. It’s simple.

I don’t have to be nice to anyone other than my kids & my man. Lbs.

I’m ok with not having any friends either, if it means I don’t ever have to go through this feeling again in my life.

I know who I am. I know what I do. That’s all I need to know. Fuck everyone else. Fr. They so sick & lost.

I’m happy tho. All this had to happen for a reason & it was to show me they ain’t my friends.

Marcie not either. She let them all talk about me in front of my face on my birthday. Lol

I will never forget this but I won’t get caught up on it.

Gotta start learning to listen to myself, cuz I know myself. All these other people are so lost & miserable in life so they need to talk about others.

They’re always on Facebook and Snap worrying about what other people are doing. Or worried about what other people are talking about.

Idk. Just a sick position I’m in. No matter how much people tell me it’s temporary, deep down I feel like I don’t need to feel this way AT ALL. Even if it is temporary.

How many times has Marcie made me feel uncomfortable?? How many more times does she need to make me feel uncomfortable for me to realize she’s not my fkn friend??

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Kinda fun that I might try and rent a house with some people next year

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[neonlights92]

Night Changes: PART TWO

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone.  Single.  Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it.  That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life.  Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

AN: I am so fuckin soft for college Kook you wouldn’t even belieeeeeve

Within days of their ‘truce’, Jungkook realises what a huge dickhead he truly is for not remembering Y/N’s name.

She shares his timetable almost entirely.

“I’m the worst.” He bemoans after a particularly stressful lecture on American poetry, “You weren’t kidding when you said you were in all my classes.”

“Almost all your classes.” She laughs a little at the look on his face and shrugs, “I did tell you.”

“It makes perfect sense now why you hate me.”

Y/N nudges him playfully and shakes her head, “I don’t hate you.” “Yes you do.”  He sniffles dramatically, “And you should.  I’m an asshole.”

She pulls a face, “Now what am I meant to do here?  Tell you that you’re not an asshole?  That would be lying.” Jungkook reaches for his heart theatrically and frowns.

“I deserve that.”

She scoffs playfully, “Shut up, Jungkook.”

It’s been exactly four days since Jungkook and Y/N began to hatch their plan to try and get their respective soulmates to fall in love with them.

And though Y/N’s original idea was to host some kind of movie night at her apartment Jungkook has been slowly persuading her into throwing a full blown party.  Park Jimin is an absolute animal, Jungkook promises her (that’s a huge stretch, but what college student doesn’t like alcohol and loud music?) and throwing a party is a surefire way to get him to agree to coming. 

But Y/N isn’t so easily swayed.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” Jungkook tells her confidently, “I’m going to make sure that you and Jimin get together, and then when you have beautiful babies together you’ll be thanking me.  And we’ll forget all about the incredibly unfortunate way we met each other.” Y/N’s smile is soft, but Jungkook sees it.

“I know you will,” She says, “I have faith in your matchmaking abilities, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Which reminds me….Did you think about what I said, Y/N?”  

Jungkook has to admit - he really likes having her around.  Try as he might at first to have seen the worst in her, he has to admit Y/N’s not half bad. 

“About the party?” 

He winks, “Bingo!” 

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Oh my god-” 

“No, because I’m such a wallflower,” She insists, shaking her head firmly, “Jimin will just think I’m boring.”

“I’ll help you come out of your shell.  I’ve told you that already.  It will be like a life lesson for you - a chance to shine in the spotlight.” 

“I don’t shine,” Y/N is whining now, “It’s stupid to even try.”

“No it’s not,” Jungkook insists, “Everybody shines.  In their  own way.  Everybody.” He feels kind of awful for her. 

How can she even think that way about herself?

“You don’t - it’s not.  C’mon Jungkook I can’t-”

“What about the night we met?”  Jungkook interrupts, as the two round the corner of Jungkook’s street, “You were partying then, weren’t you?  You were shining then?” She flushes, “That’s different.”

“How?” She shuts her eyes for a moment.  Jungkook worries he might have pushed her too far.  He slips his bottom lip between his teeth and just as he opens his mouth to apologise she sighs heavily.

“It’s stupid.”

He brushes a hand over her shoulder, “It’s not.”

Her eyes open and he’s taken aback by the softness there. 

He wants to reach out and maybe pat her cheek but he decides against it.  Fuckboy or not, Jungkook is not the kind of guy to do that.  Is he?  No.  He isn’t.

Besides.  Soomi.

“Okay.  Okay.  I’ll throw the damn party.  But you’re helping me with everything, okay?”

Jungkook feels something like electricity shoot up his ass.  (He won’t ever tell anyone else he thought that.) 

“Yes!  This is going to be perfect Y/N I swear.  Jimin will love it.  So will you,” He grins like he’s hit the jackpot, “It’s the last day of semester in three weeks time.  We’ll use that as a reason okay?  And we’ll plan everything together.  It will be amazing.” Y/N’s eyes dart across Jungkook’s face nervously. 

She seems to be looking for something - what he’s not sure - but after a moment she nods.

“Fine.  Okay.  End of semester,”  Her lips fall into a small smile, “Do you think this will work?”

They stop at the entrance of Jungkook’s building.

“It’s perfect Y/N.  I swear.  Just perfect.”

When her smile widens Jungkook thinks he’s never seen her look better.

“I’m trusting you Jungkook.”  She narrows her eyes playfully, “Don’t fuck it up.”

He crosses his index finger across his chest and nods determinedly.

“Trust me, Y/N.  We’ll have Park Jimin eating out of your hand before you know it.”

And he really believes it, too.

//

The next day Jungkook runs into Y/N at lunchtime.  He hasn’t seen her in any of his classes today and when he texts her to tell her this, she reminds him that Friday is the only day they don’t share a timetable.

He has to admit he’s kind of bummed.  

So when he finds himself wandering into the campus garden with Hoseok trailing less than enthusiastically behind him, his eyes zero in on her immediately.

She’s eating some kind of burrito - probably extra spicy as she’s told him that’s the only way to eat Mexican food - and reading a book.  Of course she’s reading a book.

Nerd.

“Hey Hobi let’s go sit over there.”  He points her out to his friend and Hoseok raises a brow.

“Who’s that?” “Y/N.”

“Y/N?”  His brow raises even higher if possible, “Y/N as in the girl you slept with who’s name you can’t remember and who’s roommate you are in love with?  And who you’ve promised to help set up with Park Jimin?  That Y/N.” Jungkook frowns, “Well when you say it like that…” He rolls his eyes, “Shut up.  Let’s just go.” Hoseok shrugs and follows his friend - what good will it do him to argue anyway? - and when Jungkook reaches his destination he clears his throat noisily.  Y/N looks up and Jungkook notices she’s wearing a pair of thick-framed glasses.  He has to admit… She looks kind of adorable in them.

The moment recognition dawns on her face, Y/N’s lips lift.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s smile widens when she grins up at him.

“Hi.”  She shifts slightly, “What are you uh - doing here?” “Stalking you obviously,” Jungkook takes a seat beside her on the blanket she’s set up to eat on, and gestures for Hoseok to do the same, “This is my friend Hoseok.  The one I said dances with your boyfriend.” She wrinkles her nose and flushes, “Jungkook!  He’s not my boyfriend.”  She turns to Hoseok and smiles softly, “Hi.” 

Hoseok - to his credit - doesn’t seem to mind the Jimin comment.  He smiles back at her.

“Hi Y/N.”

Jungkook unwraps the dismal lunch he’s made himself - a sweetcorn and tuna salad - and gestures to the book sitting in Y/N’s lap.

“What’s that?”

She looks down and then up, “Oh.  It’s uh - god.  It’s stupid.” Jungkook quirks a brow, “C’mon tell me.  What is it.” She hesitates for a second and then rolls her eyes, seemingly accepting her fate.

Jungkook almost wants to remind her that they’re friends - she shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of him - but he stays quiet. 

She lifts the book to show him the cover.

“It’s a book on gaining confidence.”  Her shoulders shrug, “I thought it might help.  Y’know…  With the whole…” Her eyes flit over to Hoseok briefly, “Jimin thing.”

Hoseok chuckles and it catches Jungkook off guard.

He’d almost forgotten his friend was there.

“That’s adorable,” Hoseok comments, “Man if a girl did that for me I’d be beyond flattered.” Y/N’s cheeks flush and she shakes her head, “No - I mean.  I don’t know.  It’s not just for him…”

“Still.” She bites her bottom lip and shrugs, “I mean I guess.  Yeah.  He should be flattered.” Hoseok laughs again and Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion his friend might be flirting.

He doesn’t like that.

Y/N is not for Hoseok.  Not at all.

“Well she’s not reading the book for you,” Jungkook tells him, trying to control his anger, “She’s reading it for Jimin.” Hoseok raises a brow.  He takes a moment and then smiles again.

“I gathered.”

Jungkook spends the rest of the lunch break trying to stop whatever weird energy Hoseok and Y/N have going on.

There is absolutely no way in hell that Jung Hoseok thinks he can just swoop in and ruin all his plans, right?  Y/N needs to fall in love with Jimin. Park Jimin needs to be the one laughing with her and smiling at her and flirting with her.

He’s absolutely livid by the time Y/N scurries off to class.

“What the fuck was that?” Hoseok pulls a face, “What?”

“That.  That… Flirting.  What was that?”  Jungkook has barely even touched his lunch (and it’s got nothing to do with the absolute miserable state of it, he swears.) 

Hoseok seems confused for only a moment later.  Then his face opens up.

“Oh, right.”  He shakes his head, “I wasn’t flirting, Jungkook.” Jungkook hates the look on his friend’s face.  Like he knows something Jungkook doesn’t.

“What’s that look for Hoseok?” Hobi chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing Jungkook.  Absolutely nothing.” Jungkook spends the rest of the day thinking about that godforsaken look.

//

Jungkook wakes up the next morning (which thank god happens to be a Saturday,) to a text message from Y/N.  He’s been trying to convince her to use more emojis - but she refuses.

Secretly, he finds her texting kind of cute.

But he’ll never tell her that.

Y/N: Are you free today?

Jungkook: as a bird.  what did you have in mind?? :) 

Y/N: It’s my birthday.  Soomi is taking me out bowling.  Wanna come?

Jungkook feels his heart swim all the way up to his throat.

Soomi?  And wait what - it’s Y/N’s birthday? He’s sort of offended she only brought it up now.

Jungkook: uhhh… what?? happy fuckin birthday y/n!!! ur naughty!!! birthday ??? why didnt you tell me yesterday??? 

Y/N: You’re an English Lit student.  Use proper vocabulary and grammar please.  And I don’t know I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Jungkook: u cant change me boo… u just text like a granny.  its your birthday stupid ofc its a big deal.  mind if i invite some of my friends??

It’s a few minutes before Y/N finally replies. 

Y/N: Yeah.  Sure.  Meet us at Blue Pins in an hour?

Jungkook: c u there… birthday girl!!!!!

Y/N: Ugh.

Jungkook smiles at the way she still acts like she hates him even though he knows she doesn’t really.

It really is the start of a beautiful friendship.

//

An hour later Jungkook finds himself sat in a booth with Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon, nervously tapping his fingers against the surface of the table.

Hoseok clicks his tongue loudly and grabs his friend's hand from across the booth.  His eyes are narrowed a little.

“Will you calm down?” “Are you kidding?” Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as a pair of saucers, “I’m about to meet the woman I’m going to marry.”

Hoseok scoffs at that and Taehyung scrolls through his phone, bored as always.  

After a moment, Taehyung clears his throat, “He said yes.” 

Jungkook feels like his heart has just fallen out of his asshole.

“What?”

“Jimin said yes,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, almost as if he’s annoyed at this spectacular outcome, “He’ll come to Y/N’s party at the end of the semester..”

“Oh fuck YES!” Jungkook fist pumps the air in joy as Hoseok chuckles in delight.

“You’re overreacting,” Namjoon tells his friend seriously, “Jimin coming does not equal Jimin falling in love with Y/N.”

“It gets me one step closer though,” Jungkook feels lighter already, “And one step closer to that means one step closer to Soomi falling in love with me.”

Namjoon snorts out a laugh, “Stop it.”

“What?” Jungkook takes a swig from the cappuccino he insisted on ordering as soon as they arrived, “It’s true.”

“You’re not seriously thinking you’re in love with this girl Jungkook?”  Hoseok’s eyes dance with mirth, “I know you man.”

“What do you mean?”

Hoseok raises a dubious brow, “You’re the ultimate fuckboy.”

“I am not.”

“Yes.  You are.”  Taehyung tacks on helpfully, “Notoriously so, actually.”

“Shut up.” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it but he knows his friends are kind of right.  Sue him - he’s young and handsome and he’s in college.  Everybody fucks around in college.

“And anyway I don’t actively pursue girls unless I have the intention of taking it somewhere.”  Jungkook crosses his arms, “A fuckboy I may be, but a dickhead I am not.”

“Says the guy who forgot Y/N’s name after a vigorous night of lovemaking.”  Namjoon grins like the cat who got the cream and Jungkook wants to smack him.

“You can thank your dear friend Kim Taehyung for that.”  Jungkook replies sharply, narrowing his eyes at his so-called childhood best friend.

Taehyung gasps like he can’t believe what Jungkook’s just said.

“Seven tequilas on an empty stomach is never a good idea Tae,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You kept insisting.”

Taehyung answers with a flippant wave of his hand, eyes finally moving away from his phone, “Whatever.  You’re an adult, right?  You could’ve said no.”

“Not when free alcohol is involved.” “Anyway Kookie, the point is you can’t be in love.”  Hoseok leans back like he’s just discovered the meaning to life.  Always so smug.

Jungkook can’t help but find it a little annoying.

“And how, oh wise one, are you coming to this conclusion?” Jungkook’s tone is dripping with sarcasm.  He raises a brow at his friend and gives him the most pointed look he can manage.

It’s still Hoseok and Jungkook has to admit he respects his opinion the most.

“Because you’re you.  And you barely know this girl.”  Hoseok rolls his eyes, “That’s how.”

“I find that offensive,” Jungkook retorts, “People are allowed to change and grow.  Now I’ve met Soomi I’m different.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “There’s no point, Hobi.  We all tried, believe me.  But he’s decided that he’s in love with her.  Just get on board with it.”

Jungkook sends Hoseok a toothy grin once he swallows the last of the cappuccino and nods emphatically.

He knows what his friends think of him.

That he’s slutty and careless.  That commitment scares the shit out of him.  That he’s incapable of monogamy.  A combination of all of the above.

But Jungkook knows the truth.  He didn’t want a girlfriend before this because he hadn’t met someone that made sense to him.

And what’s the point of being with someone unless you’re all in?

“Anyway when you’re guests at our wedding it’ll all make sense,” Jungkook pushes his empty coffee cup to the side, “We’re meant to be.”

Taehyung laughs at this - despite himself - and Hoseok and Namjoon chuckle too.

“Jungkook?” The sound of someone calling his name causes him to turn quickly, eyes widening when he sees who it is.  Y/N.  She’s smiling at him of course - but that’s not what causes Jungkook to almost go into cardiac arrest.

No.  Of course not.

It’s the beautiful angel standing beside Y/N that causes him to almost forget how to breathe.

“Hi,” He squeezes out despite himself, eyes riveted to Soomi’s beautiful face, “Hi.”

Soomi smiles and Jungkook is immediately breathless.

“Jungkook right?  Y/N’s… Friend.”  The suggestive tone annoys Jungkook - he can’t have Soomi thinking he belongs to anyone else but her - and he nods.

“Yeah.” “But just a friend now,” Y/N pipes up helpfully, “We… Uh… Worked through our differences.  And now we’re friends.  Just friends.  Totally platonic.” Jungkook thinks she’s kind of overkilling the whole thing but he doesn’t say anything.  Instead he smiles at Soomi and watches as her face puts two and two together.

Yes.  Yes.

Jungkook wants her - no he needs her to know that he’s single.

Really single.

Totally single and available and hers.

Namjoon clears his throat somewhere from Jungkook’s left.  He turns to his friends and nods quickly.

“Right.  Yes of course.  My friends - these are my friends.  Taehyung and Namjoon, and Y/N you’ve already met Hoseok.” The two share a small wave.  Jungkook ignores the stab of annoyance that sends to his gut.

“Hi,” Soomi smiles in a way Jungkook is sure is almost too heavenly to be real, “I’m Soomi.” God.  He really is a goner.

//

Jungkook doesn’t want to brag, but he is pretty good at bowling.

Okay.  Who’s he kidding?

He totally wants to brag.

The moment Y/N splits them up into two teams - Soomi, Jungkook and her versus Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung - he’s determined to win.

He has to win. 

He has to show Soomi one of his many, many, many talents. 

“You’re pretty good at this,” Soomi remarks as he throws his first strike, “Or is that just beginner’s luck?”

Jungkook shakes his head and shrugs, “I’d say I’m pretty good.”

Her giggle is music to his ears.

“That’s impressive.  What kind of girl doesn’t want a man who can throw a strike?”

Jungkook smirks, “That’s what I always say.” Her eyes crinkle at the side when she smiles and though it's not quite as adorable as Y/N’s - he’ll never admit this out loud - she still looks so sweet his heart constricts almost painfully in his chest.  He forgets for a moment where he is, laying on the charm thick.

“Is that how you seduce poor unsuspecting women then?  With your bowling skills?”

He winks in that way that usually works and his smirk widens, “You know it!” 

Soomi giggles again and Jungkook is surprised at how smoothly this all seems to be going - when the sound of somebody throwing a gutter grabs his attention.

His eyes lift - thinking it has to be the other team - and he furrows his brow when he sees Y/N standing at the very top of the bowling lane, staring at the full set of pins in front of her.

Holy shit.

Jungkook momentarily forgets about Soomi - his competitive nature kicked into overdrive - as he shoots up from his seat and rushes towards Y/N.

“Oh my god,” He’s right beside her in an instant, “Was that you?”

Y/N looks up at him - cheeks flushed - and nods, “Yeah.  I’m terrible at bowling.”

“So why would you choose to come here?  On your birthday?” 

Jungkook is somewhere between disbelief and pure horror.  But he has to admit, the look on her face is sort of funny.  She’s mortified.

“Soomi suggested it.  She said it might be fun,” She looks away for a moment, “For her maybe.”

The sound of someone scoring a strike blares to Jungkook’s left and when he sees Taehyung performing some kind of ridiculous victory dance, he decides enough is enough.

“No.  No.”  Jungkook sets his jaw, “I’m going to help you.”

Y/N’s brow lifts, “What?” “I’m going to help you.  You’re going to score a strike.” 

She snorts out a laugh.

“I don’t think you realise how truly terrible I am at this.”

“And I don’t think you realise how truly competitive I am,” He gestures to the balls, “Grab the lime green.  That’s the lightest.”

Y/N watches him for a moment longer.  She looks behind him and moves her hand in the general direction of Soomi.

“What about Soomi?” He flares his nostrils, “She’ll still be there after I finish helping you.”

Y/N stares at him, and when Jungkook cocks his head towards the row of balls lining the back of the bowling alley, she shrugs and follows his command.  

Jungkook takes this as a moment to teach Y/N how to shine.  

After all, what better way to fell good about yourself than being good at something you always thought you sucked at?

When Y/N comes back with the lime green ball, he grabs her free arm and positions her to stand with her back to his chest, wordlessly.

“Woah.”  Y/N breathes, “What are you doing?”

Jungkook’s mouth is right beside her ear, “Just follow me okay?  I’m helping you, I swear.”

He slides his hand down to the ball and grips her fingers carefully.

“Don’t hold too much tension in your wrist,” He tells her sternly, “You’re too tense.  You’re always too tense.  Relax.” Something strange passes between them.  Y/N takes a long, deep breath, and Jungkook tries to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Now slowly, slowly, bring the ball back,” Y/N follows Jungkook’s movements, “And… Release.”

He helps her flick it onto the lane, and they watch in suspense as the ball spins towards the pins.  There is almost a moment where everything is suspended in time - before the ball crashes with the pins and nine of them fall down.

Y/N squeals in happiness and turns around sharply, throwing her arm around Jungkook’s neck and pressing herself against him in a hug.

“Thank you Jungkook!” She is smiling so widely, his heart turns, “You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome.”  Jungkook finds he’s grinning too, “You deserve it.  Happy birthday Y/N.” He pushes some hair out of her face - practical purposes of course, it was getting in her eyes - and she seems to catch her breath at the gesture. They stare at each other for a moment, before someone clears their throat from behind them and they break apart.  Soomi is standing between them, holding a bubble gum pink bowling ball.

Jungkook wonders almost flippantly if she only picked it up for it’s colour.

“It’s my turn, right?” She turns her smile on Jungkook and he melts.

God.

She’s beautiful.

“Right.”  Jungkook smiles back, “Your turn.”

When he turns to move back to their booth he notices Y/N watching their interaction carefully.  Her eyes flit away the moment she’s caught, but Jungkook knows what he saw.

Strange.

Very strange indeed.

//

Later on that evening, after they’ve all shared a pizza, and Jungkook has spent the rest of the night watching Soomi with hearts in his eyes, Hoseok clears his throat with purpose.

They’re sat in their living room - Hoseok has decided to crash over because, why not? - and playing a midnight mario kart match, when Jungkook’s friend seems to have something to say.

Jungkook pauses the game.  He turns to Hoseok.

“Yes?” There is a brief moment of silence.  Taehyung is forever scrolling through his phone, and Namjoon has long ago gone to bed.  Hoseok clicks his tongue.

“Are you sure you like Soomi?”

The question completely throws Jungkook off.

He raises a questioning brow, “What?”

“I’m just - asking.  I’m just…” Hoseok turns to Taehyung for support.  When his friend doesn’t notice, he smacks him across the shoulder, “Tae.”

“What?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Have you guys talked about this?” Taehyung seems to realise where the conversation has just come from.  He actually locks his phone and sets it to one side.

“Yeah.”  Taehyung answers honestly, “We have.” “I’ve told you guys a million times.  I know I barely know her but -” “That’s not it.”  Hoseok licks his bottom lip, “I mean it’s crazy you think you fell in love at first sight but… Stranger things have happened.” Jungkook scoffs, “So?  Why have you asked then?” Another beat.

Taehyung sighed heavily, “Because we think you like Y/N.”

“What the fuck?” Jungkook snorts out a laugh because really - what else can he do?, “Why the fuck would you think that?” His friends share another look and Jungkook hates that.

He hates that they think they know him better than he knows himself.

Hoseok shakes his head, “Just a feeling.” “A feeling that’s wrong.”  Jungkook states firmly, “Dead wrong.” Taehyung nods and picks up his phone, “Fine.  Alright.  We’re wrong then.” Hoseok seems like he wants to say more but he doesn’t opting instead for something that sounds sort of like a grunt.

Jungkook watches his friends for a moment longer.

“Yeah.  So wrong.”

//

That night, when Jungkook’s just about to go to bed he receives a text message.  He opens his phone, expecting Y/N and finding, instead, an unrecognised number staring back at him.

Soomi: hiiiii jungkook :) it's soomi… y/n gave me ur number. hope u dont mind.

Jungkook pushes his friends’s ridiculous theory to the back of his head, and focuses instead on the fact that Soomi has just texted him.  His thumbs move to answer her but he pauses, moving instead to open Y/N’s chat history.

Jungkook: hey. happy bday again champ. u da bomb!! also thanks for giving soomi my number. u a real one for that, chief!!! :) :) :)

Y/N’s reply comes only a few minutes later.

Y/N: Thank you Jungkook.  I appreciate it.  And no worries… She seemed to really be into you after tonight.  So well done, yeah? :) 

Jungkook smiles at the emoji that he imagines Y/N forced herself to add, and almost misses the part when she says Soomi was into him.

Right.  Yeah.  Perfect.

He opens up Soomi’s chat and starts to write out a reply.

This is exactly what he wanted.

//

TAGLIST:  @cuddleboo @veronawrites @minluvly @severetimetravelnerd @moonchild1 @bunnyjeonjk @multicolourunicorn  @somewhereinthestarss  @jwlmnbt  @jojo-suga @zera10 @ggukkieland @thesugatoyourtae @dxlbts​ @wxndi

[goldenlaquer]

you started this so remember the one okita thing where he like gives the reader his umbrella in the convenience shop and then goes sprinting into the rain? how about a continuation of that where he gets sick and bc of like guilt reader takes care of him? ignore this if u don’t wanna do it and i just wanna say i love what u write bro <3

Because I wanna do it and because you artfully stoked my ego, here ya go ❤️:

Turns out, Sougo is very much idiotic and human just like the rest of humankind: He catches a cold. Sneezes up and down, left and right, and uses Hijikata’s cravat as a makeshift tissue for his gooey hands and snotty red nose until Hijikata’s tossing the little sicko into his room for some rest and timeout from being a biohazard to the general public.

So there’s Sougo lying in his futon, panting and wheezing and all-around experiencing the typical symptoms of a terrible cold that he convinced himself that he wasn’t feeling just that morning. And there’s him sweating bullets and squinting up at one spot in the ceiling, dizzy, yet still able to mentally put forth some effort in thinking of way to ki- get back at Hijikata for not being an evolved enough individual to think of tossing him some water and pills to break the fever that’s currently making him hallucinate you. You, stunning, impossible you, sliding open his door, making the red sunlight behind you spill over your shoulders, illuminating every single strand of your hair like a halo. Holy shit, the sight is so perfect and blinding and calls forth so much pathetic longing in every fiber of Sougo’s being that, in his miserable state, Sougo thinks that he must be dying and you must be the she-demon that Enma himself sent to coax Sougo down to the fiery depths of scorching Hell without much fuss.

Yeah, Sougo was never a simp to begin with, but when you bend over him, like that—wafting a clean, sweet scent that can only come from you and his dreams about you— and your cool fingertips touch his burning forehead in a soft caress, like that— Sougo thinks, this is it. This. Is. Fucking. It. He’s dying, and he’s going to go out of this stupid fucking life with a stupid fucking stuffy nose for the finale, but he’s going to go out happy and without a fight anyway all because of the girl who he can’t seem to fucking ask out because she’s too pretty and he’s too not, all because of the girl who’s by his side like the worst dream and best nightmare, propping him up with several more fluffed pillows to ease the discomfit of his nose and carefully spooning some rice gruel into his coughing mouth, sweetly asking him if he could manage to swallow down one more painful gulp of water and wiping the prickly sweat away from his aching limbs.

For all he knows, it’s a dream or a hallucination. Certainly, this is not real. Not you. Never you like this. Maybe not even him. Maybe none of this is real. Not the Shinsengumi. Not Edo. Maybe, he’ll wake up any second now, and he’ll be back in his sister’s lap in the old dojo, her hands playing with his hair and her smile lighting up his world once more. Maybe, maybe, maybe. When nothing makes sense anymore, everything is possible. Everything except the reality of you taking care of him through his sickness in his own room at the Shinsengumi compound. He can’t stand getting his hopes up, only to have it dashed to the grounds once he wakes up cold and lonely in his empty room. Seriousy, that shit’s getting old.

None of this is real, so that’s why he stops you in the middle of mopping his brow, cradling your hand in his for the first time and barely conscious enough to register the sheer marvelous wonder of the simple act of your fingers clasped between his can bring.

None of this is real, so that’s why he’s pulling your hand to his cracked lips and pressing the softest kiss he knows how to the softest, nicest-smelling skin he’s ever felt.

It’s a shame that none of this is real, because before he falls to numb darkness, he whispers your name in a tone unlike you’ve ever heard from him, along with the only other three words ever worth telling you.

[clearlydiamondz]

Your Only Fan

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

--------------------

Erik Finds out his best friend slash crush has an only fans. Things go a little right once he finds out.

Warnings: Cursing, SMUT, 18+ Content

--------------------

It was a Friday night, which meant that (Y/N) was getting a chance to see her best friend, Erik. Or E, which she calls him. It’s been a minute since she seen him considering she’s been caught up in her school work and he’s been caught up in whatever he had going on. 

Erik was excited when he saw that she messaged him, asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie. Instantly he answered. 

E: Awe, lil baby miss me :( lol

(Y/N): how you my best friend and you don’t even come see me no more. i feel neglected.

E: Don’t worry, I’ma be there in an hour..

(Y/N): make it 30?

E: oh u desperate? aight, 30 min it is.

Erik grabbed his belongings, grabbing his adidas bag packing an overnight bag. After getting his phone and charger, he made his way out the door and to his car.

(Y/N) finished up cleaning herself up after doing a session on her Only Fans. After about an hour, she earned about a good 900 alone from just tips and subscriptions. This was one of the good nights. 

She made her way out of her bathroom, go to her little recording area cleaning all the toys and things before Erik got there. She didn’t want her best friend to find out about her dirty little secret. It was something that she wanted to keep buried for as long as she could.

She wasn’t ashamed of being a sex worker, she supported other girls. Spoke very strongly about it online. Even did some work with other girls and guys. She just didn’t want everything to change between her and Erik if he ever found out. 

She was in the kitchen making her famous dip when she heard the door open. She looked up and saw Erik walking in with his things in his hands. “Wassup big head?” he said walking into the apartment as she smile at him.

“Hi E, so I found this perfect movie for us to watch.” she said as he groaned. 

“It better not be no scary movie.” he said as she pouted. 

“Nevermind,..” she mumbled looking down as he laughed. “Lemme put my shit down and Ima come show you some love.” he said as she nodded. There was no question that had (Y/N) had feelings for her best friend. How could she not? He was handsome, kept up with himself, a gentlemen. The way he talked and made her blush. It was hard not to have feelings for this man.  

Erik walked into the room putting the extra clothes in the empty drawer she had for him. As he was putting the clothes inside, she heard his phone going off. He grabbed it seeing that it was one of his friends, Tyrel sending him an iMessage and picture. 

Ty: bro , u know bout this??

Erik confused, opened up the picture to see an Only Fans profile. He was about to question him about it until he saw the profile picture.

“Is that-”

PearlyPerfection

Hi, my name is (Y/N), come visit me on my page to come play with me. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself. It took everything in him not to pull up OnlyFans on his phone, but it was failed. Miserably. He searched her name, sitting on the bed looking at one of the thumbnails on the videos. He saw that it was a price for ten dollars a month for the basic subscription fee. After paying for it, he clicked on the video. 

“Hi daddy...’ she seductively whispered to the camera. She had on a white and black school girl outfit that barely covered her ass and pussy. Her skin was oiled, shining looking like  milk chocolate. “My pussy been so wet just thinking about you. Do you want to see?” she gushed biting her lip.

Erik couldn’t contain the weapon that swing between his legs. Just by the second it was getting harder looking at her. She sat back against the pillows opening her legs to show her wetness. 

Okay.. now I understand why she’s called Pearly Perfection...

If it wasn’t perfect, it was close to. The wetness spread across her outer lips, making her skin gloss. She spread her lips with her fingers, the yellow acrylic really contemplating her skin complexion, letting the wetness get on her fingers as she moved it up and downward to the entrance. 

“Ooh that feels good..” she moaned quietly to herself. She dipped a finger inside, slowly fucking herself with it.  She lifted her leg, slapping her vulva before leaning forward grabbing something behind the camera. She came back into frame with a clear dildo. She grabbed it, looking into the camera before licking the tip of it. She placed her mouth on it before deep throating it, basically shallowing the entire thing.

“Damn-”

“Erik!” he heard from the kitchen. “Everything good?” 

“Uh yeah, I’m coming!” he exclaimed standing up. He exited the tab before placing his phone in his hoodies pocket. He stood up adjusting his issue, before walking out to the kitchen to see her pouring dip chips into the bowl. 

“You good? Look like you seen some shit?” she said chuckling as he shook his head. 

“If only you knew.” he whispered but she heard him. 

“Did you say something?”

“Nah..” he walked into the living room grabbing the remote as she looked at him a bit confused. Damn, I can’t even get a hug.. 

She grabbed the dip and chips walking to the living room, placing it on the coffee table. She walked back grabbing herself a wine cooler and Erik a beer. She walked back walking past him plopping down on the sofa. 

“I hope you found a good movie since you want to watch a damn scary movie.” she joked, all Erik did was just chuckle before going through the list. She looked at Erik waiting for a smart comeback but nothing.  

“Erik... are you okay?” she asked him touching his cheek as he looked at her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re acting strange. If something happened than you can talk to me.” she reassured him as he smiled. Erik turned back to the screen before picking a random action film.

About an hour into the movie, (Y/N) leaned forward grabbing some dip and chips, her shirt was risen up a bit showing her red laced underwear and her back side. It was usual that (Y/N) dressed like that around him, they were comfortable with it. But for known reasons, it had Erik squirming in his seat. She looked back to see why he was moving so much. 

“Erik.. are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him as he nodded. She leaned back and he moved to the opposite side of her. “That’s it.” she grabbed the remote pausing the movie. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” she asked him standing up as he looked up at her. 

“What do you mean? I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You acting like you can’t touch me. You haven’t even eaten my dip and you eat my shit up as soon as it hits the table. I know when there is something wrong with you and there is something bothering you.” she said to him as he sighed scratching the back of his neck. 

“Okay, I’m going to be honest with you but be honest with me.” he said as she nodded. “Do you have an only fans?” The question rightfully was a curve ball but she would never like to Erik. Plus, if he was asking about it most likely he already knew the answer.

“Yes..” she trailed off. “How did you find out?” she asked him. Her heart was beating fast, so loud she could hear it in her own ears. 

“Ty sent me a picture of the profile.” he said as she rolled her eyes. 

“Wow, creepy ass nigga.” she said smacking her teeth. 

“No offense but there are a bunch of creepy ass niggas on Only Fans.” he said sitting up as she sighed. “Why you never told me about this?”

“Look how you’re acting. You can’t even touch me. I don’t want it to change things between us. That’s the last thing that I want to happen. A-And your acting different.” she pouted as he sighed. “Like if you ashamed that you are friends with me just up and say that. Trust me, it’s feels way more better than being- than being treated like I’m dirty or something.” Erik saw her eyes watering, and his entire mood changed. For a split second he forgot he was friends with a water bag.

“Wait, (Y/N) it’s not like that.” he stood up cupping her cheeks in his hands looking at her. “I don’t care what you do , you will always my best friend. I won’t ever look at you differently.” he said to her as she started to sniffle. 

“So why are you acting like this?”

Erik mentally cursed at himself. Now he really is going to have to admit that he watched a video and felt some type of way about it. It was all happening the wrong way. “Before I admit it to you, there is something else I should admit first" he said as she nodded. She sat down as he sat down beside her. 

“First of all, I’m admitting this to you because I’ve let this shit drag on for way to long and I need to just to say it. (Y/N), I’ve always had a thing for you. I’ve always wanted you to be mine. Like in a way where we are more than just bestfriends.” he said as she took it all in. 

"Erik I-"

“Wait, I’m not done yet. Out of curiosity, I went to your profile and I saw one of you’re videos. Ima keep it real, shit was sexy as hell. To the point where I wanna fuck the shit outta you.” he admitted. If there was one thing that she loved about him was how honest he was. 

“Okay, I just want to start off by saying that I have feelings for you too. And I want to be more than just best friends...” she trailed off as he smiled at her. “And another thing, if you have an Only Fans, doesn’t that make you one of those creepy ass niggas that-” her sentence was cut off by him pinching her thigh. “Ow.. that hurt.” she pouted as he smirked at her. There was something in his eyes that she never seen before. She stood up before straddling his lap as his hands gripped her waist. 

“Oh you bold.” he said as she nodded. 

“So tell me, what did you think about my videos?” she whispered in his ear. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt her lips kissing along his neck. 

“They were something.. I- ooh.” he moaned out as she started to whine directly on his dick. She grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head showing his bare chest. She traced her hands up his chest before throwing across his shoulders. 

Erik leaned in, brushing his lips passed hers smirking. With a brief movement her lips connected with his, him immediately dominating hers. He kinda tasted the cherry lip balm that was on her lips, that made her lips smooth and soft. Their tongues traced along each others in a way, like Erik was giving up his dominance. 

She bit her lip, standing up from his lap as she smirked at him. “What you doin/” he asked her. When she didn’t give him an answer, she got on her knees. “(Y/N).’ he said in a warning tone. 

“What’s wrong daddy?” she asked him. The way she said that you would think it was sinful. “I always thought about you fucking my throat, Erik.” she said as she smiled. She pulled the waist band down from his Nike Sweat pants, noticing he was free balling. “Oh you are big...” she said grabbing the base of it. She squeezed it making him jolt his hips forward. 

She kissed the tip, licking along it tasting his pre-cum. She knew Erik always kept up with himself. Drinking water and eating fruit. If he tasted like this now, she wanted to taste him when he bust in her mouth. 

She wrapped her lips around his erection, before going downward, letting her throat relax around him. “Nasty ass bitch..” he grunted thrusting his hips upward. Seeing him like this had her dripping down her thighs. 

She was messy, he liked that. Spit dropped down her chin along pre-cum.

“This is how you do it, huh? Freaky ass...” he said throwing his head back. She smiled at him. She hallowed her cheeks inward to make it tighter as he grunted. He grabbed her lifting him as she pouted. 

“Fuck wrong with you?” he asked her.

“I wanted you to cum in my mouth..” she said as he chuckled. He leaned forward kissing her, there tongues sliding against each other. She was just like him she liked having that shit messy. 

“Let me ride it, daddy..” she whispered to him, stroking his dick as he stood up. They quickly took off all their clothes as she pushed him back on the sofa. She hovered over it and before she could sit on it, he stopped her.

“You still on the pill, right?” he asked her as she nodded. 

“Yeah I am..” she said making him smirk. 

“Thank God, I don’t plan on pulling out.” he said as she bit her lip. She sink herself on it as the both of them whispered out a quiet ‘fuck’. By far, Erik was one of the biggest nigga’s she been with. She had dildos his size probably a little bigger, but it was different because he was fucking her back. 

“Tight ass pussy, this shit wet for me huh?’ he grunted in her ear as she gasped. All she could do was moan. “Answer me..” he started to thrust his hips upward s she moaned out. 

“Fuck, yes daddy.” she gasped out as he smirked, He was hitting a spot that she ain’t even believe was possible to reach. He rotated his hips in a way that made him hit ever inch of her wall. 

“You’re so fucking deep, I feel it in my stomach.” she gasped as he smirked. 

“Yeah take all this big dick. Take it like a big girl. Making a mess all over my shit, I should have you’re nasty ass get down on your knee’s and clean it up.” he taunted her as she fucked him back. She gained her confidence back. 

She purposely made herself tight as he halted his movements. He leaned back grabbing her waist as she smiled. “Does it feel good, daddy?” she asked him as he grunted squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You tryna make me bust this quick? Huh? Get up. I got something for you’re ass.” he said. She lifted herself off as he stood up. He picked her up, walking to her bedroom. He threw her on the bed getting in between her legs. She prepped herself up to see what he was doing as he kissed her up along her thighs. 

He licked along her folds as she let out a huge sigh. He moved his tongue in slow circular motion applying pressure. “Oh shit, just like that.” she gasped. He moved his tongue downward to her entrance. She started to grind herself against his mouth, basically using him. 

“That’s it, use my fucking mouth bitch.” he grunted. His tongue was demonic. She wasn’t expecting to come so close but damn was she getting a run for her money.

“FUCK! ERIK! YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM...” 

“Who’s stopping you?” he said to her. Within a couple of seconds, she came all over his tongue in lips with a piercing scream. 

“Ass up face down. I’m beating that shit up until I’m done.” he grunted out at her. She turned on her stomach before lifting her ass in the air, creating the perfect arch.

Coming from behind, he entered her nice and slow as he winced. “Shit don’t make no sense. Why you giving me this good pussy, huh?” he said fucking her and she moaned. “I ain’t tell you again, answer me.”

“Because your dick feel so good in my pussy daddy..” she moaned out, gripping the sheets. She started fucking him back at the same pace. “Cum inside me please... I want it so bad.” she moaned as he smiled. 

“Yeah, beg for my shit. Nasty Ass,” he grunted slapping her ass making her scream.. “Pussy making a straight up mess on my dick... shit fucking creaming.” he said looking at his dick. He paused her movement as she gasped at the sudden halt. 

Erik was in a complete shock about what was happening. He was finally digging in her guts and he was about to bust all in her. He pulled out flipping her on her back as he settled in between her lips. 

“Baby...” she moaned out as he smiled. Genuinely smiled. 

“Talk to me..” he whispered kissing her shoulders as she shuttered.

“I’m so close.. please baby.” she whispered back looking into his eyes. The energy in the room instantly shifted. They weren’t fucking any more, they were making love.

He inserted himself inside of her as she let out at a satisfied sigh. He gave her slow strokes as he put his hands behind her to hold himself up. The strokes were slow and deep. 

(Y/N) thought that the only sex she could enjoy was rough and hard, but she was just proven wrong about everything. She was loved this feeling. She didn’t know if it was because it was with Erik, but she needed more of this. 

Erik was in his own world. His main focus was to make her cum. And he was  close to itg just by the feeling. She was gripping him to the point where it was hard for him to move. 

“Loosen up ma, shit tight as hell.” he said chuckling as she moaned. 

“I’m sorry I’m so close..” she said as he nodded. He was close too, and most likely was going to cum before her. 

Within a couple of seconds later he came deep. She felt his heavy load paint her walls, that triggered her own orgasm. She clawed at his back, definitely drawing a bit of blood. He collapsed right beside her as they both looked at each other. 

“You do know that means that you are mine, right?” he said to her as she chuckled looking up at the ceiling. “I’m serious. I’m the only one that need to be getting all in that, you understand me?” he said as she nodded. 

“Loud and clear..” she whispered before tucking herself under the covers. 

“Quick question... why did you start doing it?” he asked as she sighed. 

“Like two years ago, money got real tight. I started doing it, honestly I thought that it was just gonna be something for me to extra money on but than I blew up, and I started to get a lot of money from it. Now, I make enough money on it to pay all my bills, plus more. Including my job down at the restaurant.” she admitted to him. 

“Hm, well I understand..” he said. Their was a sudden silence until he spoke up again. 

“You could join me on my Only Fans. My fans would love seeing you fuck me.” she joked as he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Shit, I don’t mind.” 

“Wait you serious.” 

“Dead ass.”

The next morning, Erik woke up in the bed, where it was empty. The smell of her cooking made him get out of the bed. After brushing his teeth and what not, he made his way into the kitchen to see she was making homemade pancakes. 

The only thing she had on was one of Erik’s T-Shirts that he left over her the last time he was here, with some a pair of boy shorts. “Good morning.” he said walking behind her wrapping his arms around her waist kissing her neck as she smiled. 

“Good morning to you too.” she placed the batter on the counter, turning around to look at him. 

“Mm, you smell good.” he said. “I’m so glad that I can finally call you mine.” he replied as she smiled at him. Here she was thinking that it was just something said in the moment, but she was glad the feelings were genuinely real.

“I am too..”

[taeyongers]

Exile (M)

pairing: hyunjae x reader

genre: smut, rival mob bosses au, childhood friends to lovers 

summary: basically two orphans grow up and end up in rival gangs without knowing, until you meet in the middle of a gunfight

warning: drugs mention, bullying, sexual harassment, old style orphanages, gangs, gunfights, slight mentions of blood and wounds, sexual content (be warned) but it’s mostly soft and fluffy, light sub! hyunjae for a time

word count: 8.5k 

a/n: loooool @letteredwings hi friend this for u, pls don’t headbutt hyunjae anymore

The earth is cold under your bare feet. Your toes are spread wide. Wet pebbled mud meshes through the spaces in between.

It’s raining. The pitter patter of raindrops against the concrete pavement makes you want to step a little farther out from the awning you stand under, to just feel it against your skin. Your hair has already gotten wet. You just need more, a feeling to break you free from the unchanging hell you face each day.

“Y/n!” A sharp voice, familiar, cuts you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing!? You’ll catch a cold!”

It’s Hyunjae, of course. You let him tug you back from under the awning, through the doors, up the wooden steps and into the dreary warmth.

He is your height at this age. His eyes are young and shining, brows furrowed in concern and anger.

“The headmistress will be angry,” he mumbles. His hands rub your sides to get some warmth in you.

“The headmistress doesn't care,” you mutter.

He scoffs at your words, takes your little hand in his and trudges up the stairs into his dormitory. He sits you down on his bed, rummages through his dresser, which is not even a foot away from the bed. It’s a pathetically small room.

“You'll need dry clothes,” he says to himself and pulls out a towel. He places it on your wet hair, brows still furrowed. “You need to take those off. You’ll get sick.”

Finally, your cheeks burn. “All the other children already tease that we’ll get married someday and you want me to take my clothes off in your room!?”

You shove away the towel from your head. His cheeks tint pink and he sits down beside you with a huff.

“I didn't mean you need to change right now. You can do it in your room. Just dry off first.” He picks up the towel and holds it out to you.

You give him a glare and snatch the towel before placing it on your hair. He looks at you, eyeing the water dripping down the strands.

“Why were you even outside in the rain?”

“I was bored.”

He doesn't believe you. “They were making fun of you, weren’t they?” You glare at him again. He smirks like he knows something. “And you ran outside? You could have come to find me.”

“Why? You’re not my brother.”

He falls silent.

You shift on his creaky bed. “Why do you help me so much? You protect me from the kids who throw food at my hair. You fight my bullies. You talk back to the headmistress when she is angry with me. You share your cookies with me. You hug me when I cry, take care of me when I’m sick, now you’re drying me off when I’m wet. Why?”

He looks at you and shrugs. “Because you can't defend yourself. You’re small.”

Anger rips through you. “Yes I can! I don't need you!” You shove at him, nearly toppling him from the bed.

He grapples your hands. “Fine! Fine, it’s not because of that!” He says, calming you down. “It’s because… I know that sad kids end up in those bad groups around town. The headmistress says those who don't behave will never find parents and will stay here until they turn sixteen. Once they leave, they are taken in by those bad people. And I know she says that for kids who don't behave but I think those kids are just sad.” You stare at him as he stutters. “So, I don’t want you to be sad. I don't want you to end up with those people.”

“So you’re saying I’m sad?” You ask. He touches a stray piece of your hair.

“I mean...I see how the other kids treat you. How the teachers and mistresses treat you. I would be sad.”

You look at him until your gaze falls. “Then... we should both make a promise to not be sad and end up with those people.” He nods and holds out his pinky. You interlace yours with his. “We’ll find parents, or we’ll grow up and become good people.”

He nods resolutely. “Yeah.”

Your hands fall away from each other.

“Do you.. wanna change into dry clothes and come back here? I hid some extra cookies for you.”

Your lips break out into a grin. “Okay!”

He grins back. You rush off, something light fluttering in your chest.

This is how childhood goes. You do everything together. He’s your rock and your shield, your only friend. He protects you from the other children, your teachers and from the world. When they manage to slip past him, your iron defense, and get to you, you hide away and cry. He always finds you, hugs you through your tears, shushes and comforts you.

Childhood years fall away into adolescence and teenage years. By sixteen, you will be thrown out into the world, forced to brave it on your own. Hyunjae and you try to make the most out of whatever miserable years you have left at the orphanage, and whatever little protection it offers you both during this time.

As you grow, he surpasses your height. His jaw becomes defined, his body lanky and tall until he's a head above you. He's handsome… so handsome and it makes your heart flip and cheeks burn. You still share food and he still comforts you when things are hard. You find a special place together, the rooftop of the orphanage, where you lie flat and feel as if the universe is swallowing you into itself.

“We can’t turn out bad,” He reminds himself and you. “We can't fall into those gangs that plague this city. We need to make a life for ourselves once we get out of here, no matter how hard it will be.”

“It won't be hard for you,” you say. “You’re a good person. You’ll be a doctor or something. I know it.”

He scoffs, staring up at the night sky. “You don’t know that.”

“I do!” Your brows furrow. “You’re the best person here. This place doesn’t deserve you.”

He looks at you with stars in his eyes. He moves as if going to touch your cheek, but changes his mind.

“Okay,”  he whispers, “but it doesn't deserve you either.”

You stare at him. You wonder constantly if he feels something for you. You find him looking at you when you don’t notice, something akin to stars in his eyes, though to be fair, they have been there since childhood. But you’re not convinced that he feels anything for you other than that of a sister, a friend.

He holds out his pinky finger, a reassurance of that promise. You cross your finger with his.

Life’s problems change as time goes on. Bullying from the other orphans becomes more personal, more cruel. At just 15, the children have been introduced to drugs, sex, and using violence for intimidation. They wonder loudly about your relationship with Hyunjae. They wonder what you’re giving him for someone like him to care about such a loser like you.

Like that one time when a boy and his friends corner you after dinner, sneers and hatred spouting in their mouths.

“Are you his whore or something?” He asks, eyes burning holes into you. “Do you have to use that mouth in convincing ways to keep him protecting you? Maybe we need convincing as well,” he laughs with his friends.

You slip past them and run to your room. You cry until you can't breathe. Hyunjae finds you, he always finds you, soft voice filled with concern asking what, what is it, please tell me.

You tell him in between sobs. His eyes grow hard and cold. He hugs you tightly, shushes and strokes your hair until you calm down and fall asleep in his arms. His grip is gentle, but something in him is colder than usual.

The next day, he disappeared. You hear shouting in the headmistress’ office. He returns in the night, bruises sprouting across his face. His hand is clenched tight, swollen and bruised and messy. His eyes are still hard and cold.

You sit him down in your room. On this rare occasion, you’re the one taking care of him. You drag a wet rag gently across his swollen knuckles and his bruised cheekbones.

“What happened? Where were you?”

He doesn’t respond. He’s glaring at something far off and refuses to tell you.

The next day, you find that he’s been sentenced to weeks of latrine duty. You find out from another boy, Chanhee, about what happened. Hyunjae had attacked the boy who harassed you the day before.

“So then Hyunjae shows up and beats the crap out of him behind the building. If you think hyunjae looked bad, you should have seen the other guy.”

You get angry. Not at him, but at yourself. Why, why were you so weak? Why does Hyunjae put himself at risk for you? Why did Hyunjae grow up putting himself at risk for you, just because you couldn't protect yourself?

The other kids already think you’re doing some kind of sexual favors for him to protect you from abuse. You feel ashamed, disgusted. Why does he associate himself with someone as weak and useless as you?

You begin to distance yourself from him. You don’t go over to his room or let him stay in yours. You don’t hang out with him when you’re permitted to go outside. You begin to talk less, eat less together and, stop your rooftop meetings all together, feigning a headache or something else each time he asks. You feel it’s for the best. He should live his life for himself, not for you.

It doesn’t work. He ends up cornering you one day, hurt flooding his eyes, something you never want to see again. “Why are you ignoring me?”

You sigh.

“Did someone say something? Did they threaten-”

“What am I to you?” You ask.

His resolve burns away, and he’s left confused, mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish. “You’re my friend-”

“Do you love me?”

His brows furrow. “Of course I love you.”

“Are you in love with me?”

He goes still. Silent.

You look away. Of course not. He’s just protecting you because he feels that you’re too weak to do it yourself.

“I feel like a burden  You keep making up for my weaknesses.”

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up. “It’s not your fault. People are shit. I’m just helping you.“

“And you keep getting hurt. Our lives are already miserable here, and I’m just making yours worse.”

“Stop,” he says, eyes conflicted, unable to get the words out. He never was good with them.

“I’m turning sixteen soon. I’m going away.”

His brows furrow. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. I’ll get a job, and live my life.”

“But I don’t want you to go!” He erupts, rattling you. He sees your expression and softens. “We can… we can go together. Live together.”

“I’m already a burden on you. And besides, why would you? You’re not in love with me.”

He’s silent. His eyes are burning with something he wants to say. But he doesn't. He never does. And neither do you.

...

You turn sixteen, no longer legally allowed to stay at the orphanage. You move away and become a waitress. You don’t hear from Hyunjae again. You get used to your new life, find an apartment, and appreciate the small, new found freedom of living by yourself. Of course, the struggle for money is always there as well as a deep ache in your heart that refuses to go away, but it’s more than you’ve ever had.

Eight years go by and you break your promise. You ended up getting involved with the wrong people in the allure of deals for quick ways to get money. You meet a charming woman who convinces you to join her friends, that they could use your skills and knowledge. Now, you’re in a gang, one of the many in this god forsaken city.

You fight, you shoot, you kill, and you get money. You live in more comfort as a criminal than you’ve had in your whole life. You’ve broken your promise and don’t regret it. It’s as if it's always meant to be. You finally feel like you’re in charge of your life.

Hyunjae fades from your mind. You’re not sure if you ever fade from his.

Gang wars are all too familiar to you, and the strategy involved in conducting them is as well, now that you have become the leader. You like the new found power, your members depending on you, your success in proving yourself over and over again as the boss.

One gang in particular has been tormenting you for the past few years. They have been picking off your members, stealing your business, moving into your territory. You’d decided enough was enough and engaged them. It takes place as gunfights through back alleys in the middle of the night.

You decided to join in this time on the dirty work of fighting. The new enemy seems capable and more threatening than the others. Besides, as leader, you’ve been tucked away in the safety of your headquarters, sending orders from there. You haven't had a good gun fight in a while.

Right now, you’re hidden behind a building, shooting at shapeless figures in the dark. You know you have more numbers, superior guns and skills, when you begin pushing them back, cornering them, suffocating them. Victory is close and soon you will be queen of these lands once again.

Then, you hear a voice, your subordinate shouting something at the same time a shapeless figure melts from the shadows and darts across the street.

“That’s their leader!”

Oh, you are not one to miss out on this opportunity, of taking out this leader, of ruling both groups, both territories. So, you tear yourself from out of the shadows and sprint after the figure.

Your members call out after you but you ignore them. Your group is winning. Their leader is making a last ditch effort to escape. There is nothing to worry about.

You chase the figure into a darkened alley that stops abruptly at a dead end with one dim streetlight. You corner him, gun raised, and watch the male turn around.

“What kind of coward leader runs from a fight?”

He freezes, as if something has seized and taken hold of his entire body. Then, he steps into the light. A shock runs through you. Your eyes widen, and the gun almost slips from your grip.

“Y/n?”

His voice floats to your ears. Yes, it’s familiar, one you’ve memorized, but it’s deeper now. You can hardly overcome your shock as men appear behind you with guns pointed at your head. It was a trap. 

“Stop!” Hyunjae orders, shock and concern taking over his features, ones you’ve known since childhood. “We’re taking her with us.”

...

Your feet hurt from pacing the room, but you don’t stop. You hear an exasperated sigh from off to the side.

“Are you going to sit down and talk?” Hyunjae asks. He is seated at a table, a spare chair beside him. Your eyes run over him briefly. 

He’s older, much older. He’s grown half a foot since you saw him last. His body is bigger, toned from fighting. He has the same eyes, though - young looking and twinkling- and the same smell, something that makes your stomach wrench.

You continue to pace, glancing at the window, the air vent, the door- anything that can let you escape.

“Y/n.”

Your eyes snap to him. “No. I’m not going to sit down and have a talk. Especially not with you,” you spit out.

He blinks. “What do you mean, especially not with me?”

You don't respond. He stands up abruptly, and without thinking, you grab the knife from where they never found it when they searched you.

He freezes at the sight. His hand curls around the gun in his holster. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n. There are men right outside those doors. One word from me and they’ll barge in and kill you.”

“Then why don’t they?” You yell.

“Why are u so angry!?” He snarls, finally showing his anger. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in years! What did I-“

“What did you do? I thought I left you in that orphanage years ago and now I find out that you’re the head of the gang that keeps invading our rightful territory? That it was on your orders that my members were killed for years? That I was almost killed!?”

Something flits across his eyes.

“Yeah I know,” you sneer, “how ironic is it that you were my knight in shining armor back then and now you’ve been trying to kill me for years.”

He exhales, holding his hand up in a placating gesture. “Y/n, I didn't know.”

“And what about those dreams you had, huh? About being a doctor? Something good? You promised you’d not fall into this scene and yet you ended up here anyway!”

His face is hard. “We both made that promise.”

You falter, glaring at him. “I was always the less promising one out of us two.”

He steps forward. “That’s not true.”

You purse your lips. “Are you going to kill me now?”

He stops, looking hurt. “Of course not.”

“Why not? I’m the enemy leader.”

He looks exasperated. “Y/n-“ he reaches for you but you step away. His hand falls from the air.

The silence is deafening and you grip your knife. “I should kill you. I will be better for it.”

Hyunjae sighs, running his hand through his hair . “Don’t be stupid. The guards outside-“

“I can take them.” You say with full confidence. He seems surprised. He looks at the anger, the hurt in your eyes, then down at the knife, in your experienced grip. “I’m going to kill you,” you say again, almost as an effort to convince yourself.

Some light kindles in his eyes, a look of interest, curiosity. Maybe he’s caught onto your bluff.

He raises a brow. “Really?”

You blink and nod. He steps closer, so close you’re just inches away, until you can see the deep brown of his twinkling eyes, the scent of him that takes you back years. He grips your hand holding the knife and presses it against his chest, right over his heart. His gaze is intense.

“Then do it.”

You stutter. “I- I will do it…”

His eyes aren’t wavering from yours. He imperceptibly presses the knife harder against his chest. Your hands are shaking, and you make no move to pierce him. He realizes this. Without taking his eyes off of yours, he gently pulls your wrist away from his chest. With a simple twist, the knife clatters to the floor. Now, you’re both looking at each other, silence flooding the room.

His eyes never break their lock on yours except for one flicker down to your lips and back. Then, he moves so slowly, head tilting, lips nearly brushing yours to kiss you. You can barely get a hold of yourself to jerk away.

“What- what are you doing!?” You breathe hard, stepping back.

He grasps your elbow and pulls you back. His eyes soften, hand coming up to run across your face. “Please, I … just missed you...so much” His voice is shaky, a rare break in character from the short amount of time you’ve seen him recently, eyes vulnerable instead of cold steel.

“I have to kill you.” Your voice cracks. “After all those years of fighting-“

“But you can’t,” he speaks, eyes drinking you in. “Because you feel something for me like I do for you, even after all this time. And in the middle of this war and senseless violence, can’t we just have this?”

You freeze. “You feel what for me?”

He catches on. Something soft floods his eyes, his thumb stroking your cheek. You would have torn away if not for the ridiculous amount of comfort it brings you.

“Is that why you are so angry?” He chuckles, letting his hand slip from your cheek before releasing a defeated sigh. “I should have told you I was in love with you before you left.”

You still. He rubs the nape of his neck.

“When you left, I … I lost it.” Hyunjae’s voice cracked. “I was angry for the longest time. I resented you for leaving. I resented myself for not trying harder to make you stay, for not telling you the truth when you asked me how I felt.” He paced. “You.. called me a good person. Then I lost you and I threw away everything about myself that was good. I got into drugs… crime. Now I’m here.” He glanced at you. “I never thought you’d be here too.”

You silently digest his words, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen.

He steps closer and takes your hand.  “I couldn’t sleep at night for years. I constantly wondered if you were in danger.”

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” you whisper.

“No,” he gazes at you, talking almost to himself. “No, you don’t.” He drops your hand and sighs. “I can see I’ve hurt you too much, back then and even now, to earn your forgiveness.”

Silence hangs heavy. The entrenched hurt in your heart lightens. Of course he’d been hurting all this time too. But your throat is too heavy to form any words in response.

“So, what do we do now?” You ask hoarsely.

He’s silent, eyes going from you to the door. “I can’t take you back to my members. They’ll have you tortured and killed immediately, and there’s no way in hell I would let that happen.”

You make a show of rolling your eyes. Of course, he protects you, even now.

Hyunjae paces across the floor, stroking his chin. He stops by the table and looks up at the air vent in the ceiling. He turns around, eyes determined.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. We have to fake a struggle. Give me a few bruises. I’ll lock the door so the guards can’t get in immediately. Then, you climb up through the vent and make you way out of the building. Hopefully they won’t catch up.”

You can’t help giving a small smile. “Hopefully?”

He nods, eyes softening for a brief moment. Suddenly, he presses forward and kisses you deeply. A shock of butterflies bursts through your stomach, fluttering up and up to your chest. You barely process his soft lips, his calloused hands on your cheeks, the fringes of his hair tickling your forehead. Your mind turns to mush before he pulls away. He looks at you softly as he releases you. Then, he punches you in the shoulder, hard.

“Ow!” You reel back.

He smirks. “Where do you think you’re going?” He calls out loudly, much louder than is needed.

You catch on. “I’m leaving!” You yell just as loud and shove him hard towards the door. He grins approvingly at your play and spins around to lock the door. Someone pounds on the wood from the other side.

“Sir!? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he calls. “I just have a difficult prisoner, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Something playful flares in his eyes as he nearly tackles you. You stumble violently for a moment, his large arms wrapped around yours to pin you in place. You try to wrestle out of his grip but he manages to hold your arms tight around you so you can’t move, giving you the odd sensation of being in a straitjacket.

“No, let me go! I’ll--” you pause, glaring at him. “I’ll headbutt you, I swear.”

He smirks. “Then headbutt me.”

You pause for a second and then you swing your head into his cranium. His head jolts backwards and his arms release you to grip his throbbing head.

“What the hell- you actually did it!?”

You snicker at him before the sound of pounding resounds throughout the room.

“Sir, the door isn’t opening! We’re going to break in!”

Hyunjae whirls around to face you, gesturing you to go up the vent. “Alright, hurry up!” He yells to guards.

You step onto the table and reach up onto your tiptoes to remove the covering. With one last look at Hyunjae, who’s face seems to be a mess of regret, affection, longing, and panic, you muster out a “see you later,” before disappearing through the hole.

...

Hyunjae knows he is seen as a cold leader. Like he said, once he lost you, he lost everything about himself that was good.

He killed. He punished. He executed.

He would beat a man for looking at him the wrong way. Give brutal tests of loyalty to his subordinates. Make it so that they quake when he walks into the room.

It was to maintain order, dignity, balance.

No one can defeat him at a mental game. No one can make him falter, doubt, outsmart him, move him. No one. That’s how he climbed the ranks and became the boss.

That is, until now. Fifteen minutes in that room with you and his mind has turned to mush. You’ve grown up, more beautiful than you were before, and it utterly stopped his heart. Your smiles, enough to make his knees buckle. Oh, how he wanted to take you in his arms, like he’s imagined for years, to hold you, hug you, kiss you, never let you go.

Of course he couldn't do that. The universe is not that kind. He got in one kiss - just because he desperately needed to know how you felt - and you melting into him was all the answer he needed. But then he had to say goodbye to you far too fast.

Now, the guards have burst into the room, searching feverishly for you who’s long disappeared. He mentions that you used the air vent to escape and leaves through the door. He knows they can never catch up to you in time - you’re far too good.

That sad, insecure girl he knew from his past seems to have changed. You’re a leader of a gang now, the one he’s been fighting and struggling to outsmart for years. If he had known it was you all along, how quickly he would have stolen you away from the fighting and left to live somewhere far away, somewhere peaceful. He would abandon his members, everything he built after all these years in a heartbeat for you. It was never even a question.

But he barely knows if you want the same thing. All that he knows now is that he has to see you again.

He thinks about these things, mind rumbling and turning, as he walks briskly to his meeting. His head still pounds from your headbutt and he catches himself smiling at the thought of it. It’s one ache he doesn’t mind.

He enters the room filled with high ranking members. They wait patiently for him to take his seat at the head of the table.

“So? Any updates?” He asks.

One guard steps forward, the same one that had been searching for you. “Sir, we couldn’t find her. I believe she escaped.”

Internally relieved and unsurprised, he outwardly slams his fist on the table, making everyone jump.

“Damn! Do you know how valuable she would have been alive? The information we could have gotten out of her?” He glares. “And how much of a mess they would have been without their leader?”

The guard ducks his head. “Yes sir. Sorry.”

Another man leans forward in his chair, Juyeon, his close, right hand man. “But we found intel on their next plans. They are raiding the HQ of a much smaller group, If we meet them there, we can catch them by surprise, and take their leader out.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know how to feel. On one hand, he’ll see you again. On the other, you’ll be in danger.

A grunt leaning by a wall says, “I hope we take her out. That bitch deserves that and worse. If I-”

Before he can finish, Hyunjae has him shoved roughly against the wall. His shirt is clutched in Hyunjae’s fist and a knife pressed to his neck. Hyunjae barely registers his rage, the look of fear and shock from everyone around the room, from the man in his grip. His eyes are eyes wide, looking at Hyunjae for an explanation.

Hyunjae rolls with his show. “Less talking. More doing. Talk after you bring her to me. She’s already escaped once from us.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” he sputters out.

Hyunjae releases him from and glares at the room. “We’re done here.”

...

I should have told you I was in love with you before you left.

Those words echo through your mind nonstop, refusing to give you any mercy. And even worse is the memory of the kiss - of his lips pressed against yours, his hands on your skin, his smell - you secretly wish that moment had lasted forever. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, and your heart aches in response.

Then, you rip yourself from your thoughts.

“Ugh!” You yell, slamming your gun onto the table. You’ve tried to assemble it for what seemed like the 50th time in the past ten minutes but your thoughts keep distracting you.

“Y/n?” Your subordinate, Younghoon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “We’re ready to leave.”

You finally manage to click the gun in place. With one last order to your mind to let go of useless thinking, you stand and slip your gun into the holster.  “Let’s go.”

The place you’ve decided to raid has many resources like valuable drugs and money, all hoarded by a smaller group that you can beat out easily. You surprise them, your members jumping out of cars and invading in from all openings of the derelict headquarters.

There’s shouting, scrambling, and finally gunfire. You know this mission will be easy enough - the other group does not have enough people to defend their resources. This will be over before you know it.

At least, that’s what you thought until you spot strange black vans pulling up to the curve outside, men jumping out in large numbers to join the fight. They immediately engage your members with gunfire. You panic, unable to understand what is happening before you catch sight of Hyunjae exiting a van and tucking himself behind the building entrance for shelter against the bullets. He catches your gaze and a number of different emotions pass by his face. He settles on a hesitant smile.

Confusion, then anger rips through you. So much for all those sweet words he spoke yesterday. He’s still fighting you, still trying to kill your members, still prolonging this war. If he wants it that way, then that’s what you’ll give him.

You step out and begin shooting. Chaos seems to erupt with two sizable forces fighting each other inside one building. You can tell that you will not win without a large loss of life.

“Just find whatever you can and go!” You bark at your subordinates. They scramble to obey your orders, grabbing suitcases and locked chests in between the shooting.

Before long, you’re calling them all back from the scene, ordering their retreat. They scramble into the cars you came in. You glance back to see Hyunjae’s men lowering their guns, glancing at him for their next orders - whether to pursue or retreat. However, his gaze is only fixed on you.

Then, he makes a break for it. He runs directly after you without a second glance, without a word to the rest of his group, leaving them stunned in confusion. You would’ve had half a mind to guess that he means to kill you, if it isn’t for the slightly sad expression on his face.

One of your girls steps forward to aim her gun at him. A shock of fear runs through you. “Wait! Stop! Don’t kill him!”

With wide eyes, she obeys and resorts to landing a good punch on Hyunjae’s cheek that sends him tumbling to the ground. Shouts ring out in the air and you see that his members are now running after you.

“Get him into the car! Hurry!”

They do as you order. Soon enough, the party of cars is driving off with Hyunjae’s men trailing behind on foot. They eventually stop and run back into their vans. A car chase ensues through the streets but your smaller cars outrun their bigger vans within minutes. You’re left speeding through the night with a slightly unconscious, groaning Hyunjae in your lap in the backseat.

...

“Does it hurt?”

Hyunjae peers up at you under the dim lighting of your room. You inspect the nasty cut on his cheek, one caused by the punch that took him out.

“I’ve dealt with a lot worse,” he replies, expression unreadable. “Funny how we’re back in the same situation, except...the other way around.”

You know what he means. Last time, you were captured and held in his room as a prisoner. Now, he’s yours, except he came willingly.

You sigh, pouring a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a clean rag. You press it to his cheek and he winces slightly.

“Why did you run after me?” You ask, patting down his skin.

He sighs, eyes running over your face. “Because I wanted to see you.”

You ignore how your stomach flips. “But you left all your men behind, people who depended on you.”

He shrugs.

You scoff, shaking your head as you step back. “You planned that entire raid just to see me? Don’t you care about them? Right now, they’re thinking you’ve gotten captured but really, you ran away.”

“Y/n, I became involved in this filthy life because I had nothing left after I lost you. But now, I found you and…” he trails off, large brown eyes falling on yours. “There’s something more now.”

Your heart thrums but you maintain a frown. “So that’s it? You’d just leave?”

He blinks slowly and smiles. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You carefully place a square piece of gauze on his wound and tape it down. You almost miss his smile, his eyes filled with softness and stars as they gaze at you.

“What is it now?”

He smiles. “Isn’t this familiar?”

You have flashes of memories - cleaning his wounds in the orphanage after he got himself in a fight over your honor.

“Don’t get used to it,” you mutter, tossing a few wrappers in the trash. You move to step away but he’s suddenly standing up, hand shooting out to grip your arm.

“Y/n-“

“Should I remind you that you’re the prisoner in here?” You glare.

His brows are knitted, face forlorn. “You act like you hate me but you don’t really.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No, you don’t.” He levels his gaze with you. “You told your gunman not to kill me. You cleaned and dressed my wounds. You kissed me like you’re in love with me-“

“That’s enough,” you growl, tugging harshly away from his grip but he holds onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you I loved you back then,” he says again, and again it flips and cleaves and destroys your heart. His eyes are full of regret. “Maybe you would have stayed.”

He searches your face for something that you’re hesitant and unwilling to give him. Something seems to fade from his eyes as he slowly releases you.

“Or maybe you wouldn’t have.” The smile falls from his lips. “Maybe it was meant to be this way.” He sits back down on your bed. “And maybe I truly was an idiot for getting myself captured by people who want me dead.”

You study his features, twisted in defeat. He’s always been so dependent on your moods, your signs, the words you say to him. He can be emboldened by your subtle signals and just as easily defeated by your rejections. Your heart flips again and you curse it. He really did love you, then and now.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you sigh, earning his attention. “I hated being a burden on you, regardless of... if you loved me or not.”

He gazes at you in such pure confusion that you look away. “Y/n, you were never a burden.”

You feel the sting of tears, a lump forming in your throat. He stands up slowly, steps close to you.

“You were my family-“ he begins.

“You were my family too but you kept getting hurt, kept suffering because of someone so useless as me,” your voice cracks.

His heart seems to break, you can see so in his eyes. He reaches for you tentatively, and you don’t pull away this time. He places a gentle hand on your cheek, gazing deep into your eyes, taking hold of your heart.

“You were never a burden. Never. All those things I did because I loved you,” he says softly. “You could never be a burden.”

Something shatters in your chest and you surge forward to kiss him, tears rolling down your face. He embraces you, eagerly welcomes the kiss, grasps your cheeks as if you are the most precious thing ever.

The kiss is desperate - a release of more than a decade’s worth of repressed love. You’re hypersensitive to the feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing against yours, the deep groans resounding from his chest as you melt in his arms.

“Y/n,” he groans, holding your waist in a tight grip as you pull away, panting for air. His lips attach to your throat, leaving open mouth kisses down the column. Your breaths stutter, fingers curling into his hair. A nip of your skin by his teeth has a light moan slipping past your lips.

He pulls back to gaze at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. His irises swirl with affection mixed with want.

“I- Do you want-“ he manages out, drinking in your gaze, but unable to finish his question.

You swallow thickly, mind racing. Your body is burning with need and longing for him, after so many years. You can only manage out a nod. He presses his forehead against yours.

“I need you to say it.”

You let out a shaky exhale. “I want you.”

He seems to revel in those words before swooping in to kiss you, somehow even more desperate this time. He pulls you gently towards the bed, littering kisses on your lips with breathless words in between.

“Tell me any time if you want to stop, alright?”

You nod. “Okay.”

His eyes twinkle before he kisses you again. You fall back against the sheets. His fingers flit down across your shirt and your pants, stopping to unbutton them. You kick them away impatiently and tug your shirt over your head.

He stares at your semi nude form in awe. He slowly places his hands on the skin of your waist, feeling your skin underneath his fingers.

“Have you had sex before, Hyunjae?” You chuckle.

“You have no idea how long I imagined this,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. “But you’re more beautiful than anything my brain could conjure up.”

Your cheeks burn at the cheesiness but your heart thrums all the same. Then, your mouth goes dry as he reaches and pulls his shirt over his head.

Inch by inch, the deep black ink of tattoos curling across his skin are revealed. His muscles ripple with movement and settle again once he’s cast his shirt away. He gazes at you in anticipation.

You find your voice. “You got tattoos.”

He smiles. “You like them?”

He takes your hand and places it on his stomach. You swallow hard, finger tracing one line of onyx ink. “W-Why would you care if I like them?”

He chuckles. “I care what you like.” He grips your hand softly, entangling his fingers with yours.

You glance at him. “Are you sure you’re a gang leader?”

He smiles and tugs you forward, humming as he kisses you. “You know, you look really hot when you hold a gun.”

You chuckle as his arms wrap around you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” kisses down your throat, hot and open mouthed. “I lost my mind the first time I saw you standing tall, directing orders, shooting.”

You gasp as he grips your ass harshly and sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck at the same time. “I wanted you then and there.”

You can’t respond, your mind slowly descending into the depths of incoherency. He presses you flat against the bed, and leans over you, hips rolling deep against yours. Gasps and moans fall from your lips as he watches, mesmerized.

“I always wanted to hear your moans,” he says breathily, grinding against you. “God, how many nights I’d spend just thinking of you.”

“Hyunjae,” you gasp, grabbing his hips. “You can tone down the love sick puppy-ness.”

He chuckles, a deep low sound that sends tingles straight to your core. “But I can’t help it.” He places a kiss below your heart, trailing down your stomach and your navel, settling between your thighs. “I love you. I have always loved you.”

Warmth floods your chest as you gaze down at him, at his eyes that are filled with affection and the stars of the universe. Then he presses a kiss to your clothed mound and all your thoughts are shattering.

He hooks his fingers under your underwear and drags them down. You shift to sit up on your elbows. “Y-You don’t have to-“

He cuts you off with a disbelieving laugh. “I have waited and imagined every detail of this for years. I can’t not.” He peers up at you. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

You swallow thickly. “N-No. I want to.”

His lips curl into a smile. “Good.”

He removes your underwear, and spreads your thighs around his shoulders. His hot breath meets your core and you release a shaky breath. He gives you one last, heated look, before he’s dragging his tongue across your center, stopping at your clit.

You throw your head back and moan. The sound spurs him on. His hands grip your thighs harder, tongue dipping into your entrance and stealing your sanity. Your ragged breaths turn into gasps and moans, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his face.

He holds you down firmly against the mattress, the muscles in his forearm flexing around your thighs. His eyes burn into yours as another stroke of his tongue sends you reeling.

“H-Hyun,” you gasp out. His eyelids flutter at the sound of his name. He groans into you, shaking you to the core, continuing his ministrations.

You lose your mind slowly. Every movement of his tongue sends you to another dimension. When he pushes a finger inside, you shake and clench and cry out, gasping harshly as he pumps his fingers. He releases a shaky breath against your core when you arch at another finger. A cry and moan crawl up your throat and spill into the air. Your fingers curl into his hair and tug harshly, earning another deep moan from him.

Your mind is descending. He’s kept a slow place so far but is speeding up. Your moans pitch high and the knot in your stomach grows tighter. Just when you’re about to crash, whirl, die and be reborn, everything stops.

His fingers are gone, mouth is gone, his warmth and it's all cold. Your eyelids slip open to find him, kneeling before you, eyes dark, hands tense, slightly shaking. You want to ask why, why he stopped, why he looks as if he’s been wound so tight that he’ll snap.

He wipes his mouth absently, makes the pit of your stomach whirr. He fixes his dark eyes on you.

“I need…” his voice is hoarse. “I need you on top of me, I need to feel you around me.”

You swallow dryly and sit up. A push of his shoulder to the side and he’s rolling onto the bed, head settling upon the pillow. You straddle him easily, as if you belong there. He’s splayed out underneath you, every inch of his skin in reach, every ribbon of muscle, and every inky curl and dip of tattoos across his body, all for you.

You place a hand on his chest, feel him release a sigh and watch your hand dip with his skin with the movement. He is hard underneath you, and you can feel him getting harder.

“So this is how you’ve always imagined it?” You ask, trailing your hand down his skin, under his navel, to stop at his pants button, watching him shudder.

“Yes,” he breathes, eyes closed. You unbutton him, peel his pants off and provide him with some degree of relief. You straddle him again and lean forward to kiss him deeply. He sinks into the kiss, sighs when you move to kiss down his throat, and then trace his tattoos with your lips.

He reaches up to grip your waist. You stop.

“You can't touch.”

He gazes at you, wide eyed. He seems to want to protest but he swallows it and keeps his hands down.

You smile in victory. You hips rock and grind against him, watch him arch in pleasure. His fingers flex and clench the bedsheets beside him. His eyes are heady,  burning into yours, his jaw clenching.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” You ask softly, removing his boxers to feel his hardness in your hands. He makes a muffled sound, refusing to part his lips. “Having someone tell you what to do?” You ask, stroking him slowly, watching a storm of emotions pass his face. “And you can't say anything back?”

You lift your hips up and sink down on him in one movement. There is a pleasurable burn, but you are more focused on the way he tips his head back and groans, his eyelids clenching shut. His fingers twitch against the sheets, his veined arms straining to not touch you.

“And you’re listening so well,” you praise, feeling him stretch you. You release a shaky breath, swallowing a moan.

“Y/n,” he pants. You gasp as you start moving, slowly, almost too slowly at first. After all these years, you want to revel in the feel of him inside you. He releases a broken moan and thrusts up into you in desperation.

You still immediately. “No doing that, either.”

He groans and rolls his head to the side, gazing at you in need, in exasperation. But his hips stay still when you begin riding him again.

Your heart flutters at him listening to you, the head of a mob, who hasn't taken orders from anyone in a long, long time, turning to putty under your hips. You speed up , breaths turning harsh as you roll and bounce your hips against him.

He pants beneath you, a layer of sweat settling on his tattooed skin, his jaw clenching and sheets crumpled into his fists in an effort to hold back. You admire him, beautiful and unholy beneath you. As you palm your own breasts, you take in the sight of his lust filled, darkened eyes watching every movement you make, burning with need to touch you.

Suddenly, his hands are on your waist, gripping the skin as he thrusts up into you. Pleasure explodes from behind your eyelids as you cry out. Somehow, with all your willpower, you remove yourself completely from him. You straddle him further down his thighs, out of reach of his aching cock.

“Y/n,” he straight up whines. His arms reach for you, brows knitted, eyes pleading. “Please.”

Your resolve almost shatters, but you enjoy seeing him like this too much. You merely shake your head and he huffs, resigning himself.

“Will you behave?”

He seems to glare at the ceiling before nodding without a word. Something thrums in your heart. You settle over him and begin the process anew. You like this, seeing him under you, controlling the pace, making love to him. He groans again, and you lean forward to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, biting the skin so it makes him shudder. Your hips speed up slightly, moaning into the air as his pants. His fingers strain and clench, his eyelids fluttered closed in concentration. You marvel at his self control.

You think of that too late when he thrusts into you once again. When you slow down, he grasps your sides and gives another thrust. You gasp and remove yourself from him but before your warmth can leave his dick completely, he’s rolling you over, flat on your back against the sheets. He harshly rolls his hips against yours.

“Hyun-“ you moan as he gives another thrust, his head tipping back. He picks up pace, hands roaming your body, his self restraint snapping. “I’ve waited for years,” he moans, leaning forward to litter kisses on your neck. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

With a bite of your skin, he’s speeding up his thrusts, sending you clawing at his back. He presses his forehead into yours, working his hips in wonders, has you seeing stars, relentlessly, until you cry out his name, clenching hard around him.

“Oh my god,” he groans at your walls milking him. He swallows your moans with his kisses, thrusts into you a few more times until he’s coming with you.

He collapses against you, one lazy arm propped upon the bed so as to not crush you. Your head is swimming, heart thrumming, feeling the tickle of his hair against your cheek as you catch your breath. Pleasure tingles throughout your entire body. He gives a breathless laugh, plants a kiss to your forehead and rolls away to lie on the sheets beside you.

It’s quiet for a heartbeat before he speaks. “Lets run away together.”

You chuckle, “we’re criminals, Hyunjae.”

“So?” he asks, facing you. His eyes are twinkling once again.

You find your words. “So, we can’t just go anywhere. We will always be wanted by the law. Besides, we should have thought of that before getting involved in this stuff.”

He releases a deep exhale. “You were always my dream, my guiding light, whatever I wanted in life. I just became involved in it because I lost you and I ended up here.”

You look at him, silently. “You never say it’s ‘because I left’, only ‘because you lost me,’.”

He blinks at you. “Because I did.” His hand entangles with your own. “I was too afraid to tell you I love you, and so I lost you.”

You squeeze his fingers. “I was… also too afraid to tell you, so I passed off the responsibility to you by asking that question.”

A smile slowly spreads across his lips. “So you’ve always loved me?”

You smile. “Yes, Hyunjae. I’ve always loved you.”

He scoops you into his arms and pulls you close. He litters kisses over every inch of your face, pulling giggles from your lips.

“So since we can’t run away, how about we call a truce between our… groups?”

“Deal.”

He holds out his pinky. You laugh at the old but familiar gesture. You interlace your pinky with his. “Okay, now, deal.”

He giggles, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “I guess you’ll have to let me go so I can convince them.” His brows furrow. “Hopefully they don’t find this place and charge in.” 

“Don’t worry. You haven’t found this place in years, what is one more day?” 

He smiles. “You always were smarter than me.” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Do you think they can wait one more day, though?”

Hyunjae thinks on it. “I’ve waited for 8 years. I think they should’ve learned a thing or two from me.” 

[deluluass]

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions. 

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love. 

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it. 

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on,  muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away. 

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well). 

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!" 

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers. 

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix. 

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't. 

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it. 

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world. 

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.  

It disgusted him. 

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it. 

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways. 

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over. 

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu. 

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy. 

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans  behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.  

"We broke up." 

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence. 

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted. 

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer. 

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult. 

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.) 

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box. 

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble. 

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed. 

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise. 

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it. 

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends. 

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back  tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling. 

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die. 

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted. 

Aya held your face with both hands as she  stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort." 

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. 

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags. 

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed. 

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way. 

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.  

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.   

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?" 

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes. 

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze. 

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was  fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of  anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting. 

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway. 

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.   

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium. 

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks. 

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers. 

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough. 

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation. 

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. 

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon. 

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it. 

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner. 

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved. 

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind. 

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate. 

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed. 

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.   

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned. 

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here. 

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived. 

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first. 

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled. 

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself. 

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips. 

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?" 

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers. 

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've. 

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you.  Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house. 

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs. 

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against  your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit. 

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck. 

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead. 

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples. 

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all. 

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him. 

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again. 

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head. 

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned.  "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you. 

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits. 

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

[sweeterthansammy]

Rough Rider || Bucky Barnes

Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female [Romanoff] biker!Reader; The reader is Bucky’s love interest.

Summary: In which Bucky finds interest in a biker chick.

Genre: Smut

Written in third person point of view.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, public sex, sex on a motorbike, mild choking, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, mild language, and Bucky’s infatuation with a woman that knows how to ride a motorbike :)

Word count: 3.1k+

A/N: Kinda proud of this one 🥲

Important notes: The reader is Nat’s cousin. The reader is at least 21. I know jackshit about motorbikes and models so bear with me. Song used in fic: R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys. Not BETA’d - all mistakes are mine.

Bucky entered the compound with a wolf whistle, his gloved hand pointing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows as he approached the kitchen.

“Whose Harley is that out front?” he asked, completely disregarding Y/N who sat at the island, popping a cherry into her mouth.

“Mine,” she muttered, tongue swiping out of her mouth to lick the red juice trickling down her bottom lip.

Bucky looked from Natasha to Y/N, mesmerized by her E/C eyes and the way they basically pierced right into his. He looked back at Nat, silently asking “who’s she?”

“Y/N, this is Bucky, a complete delinquent that’s best friends with Steve. Buck, meet Y/N, my cousin who serves as a sister more or less.”

Y/N stood, a little black dress clinging to her figure, a leather jacket covering her arms. She extended an arm, shaking Bucky’s hand.

“Woah, strong grip there, buddy.”

He chuckled, removing the leather glove and shoving it into the pocket of his own jacket. She looked down at his metal arm.

“Oh, that’s the…” she trailed off, motioning with her hands to make the situation any less awkward than it already was, failing miserably. “Yeah, that arm.”

Bucky was truly a saint. After Nat had given her a rundown of his story, she couldn’t help but empathize for the man. He was simply broken and all she wanted to do was give him a hug and ameliorate him, it didn't matter if she knew him or not. As Nat was called by Steve to help him with something, she and Bucky remained in the kitchen. She broke the silence, popping another cherry into her mouth.

“Hey, wanna go for a spin?” she asked, jiggling her keys in the air as a way to catch his attention.

“Uh, sure, why not?”

As they were about to leave, she stopped in her tracks, eyes ogling at his motorbike.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, admiring the all-black Yamaha YZF-R6 standing in front of her. “This is yours?”

“Been mine since...since I can remember,” he chuckled, kicking at the gravel with the tip of his boot as she continued to analyze his bike.

“Race me.”

Straightforward, isn’t she?

“What?”

“Race me. Harley versus Yamaha.”

“What does the winner get?”

She thought for quite some time, grinning as she looked down at the beauty in front of her.

“Winner gets a ride on the loser's bike until I can think of something else...unless you have any ideas.”

He eyed the black Harley, red accents screaming his name.

“Deal.”

With that, they swung their legs over their seats, saddling up to take off with their beasts. Y/N buckled her helmet on, leaning forward to rev the engine a bit.

“Ready Buck?” she asked over the roaring of both of their engines.

He pulled up next to her, watching the way she planted both feet on either side of the bike.

“Meeting point is back at the compound. Got it?”

Assertive.

She looked over at him, struggling to find his icy orbs through his tinted shield.

“Got it?”

He simply nodded his head once, both riders looking forward before Y/N gave a countdown.

“3...2...1, go!”

Bucky had heard the wildest stories of Y/N, but he always thought that Nat was exaggerating when she said Y/N was the most badass person she knew. She took off, a trail of smoke following the traces of her bike as she zipped down the road.

Bucky was simply taking his time, muttering a quick “oh shit” to himself as he realized she was already around the corner. He used his charm to his advantage, coming to a full stop. He looked ahead, Y/N already backpedaling to check on him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking back as he panted.

“I think I got a flat.”

As she jumped off her bike and walked over to his, he revved his engine, taking off.

“Nevermind, I think I’m gonna beat your ass,” he winked at her, taking off.

“Hey- that’s not fair!”

She knew he couldn’t hear her but she got back on her bike, slowly cruising down the street. Eventually, Bucky came into sight, leaning on his bike with a smug look.

“I think you owe me something, doll.”

She simply chuckled, getting off her bike.

“That was fowl.”

She hopped off of her bike, holding onto the handlebars of her bike before he took over.

“Wow,” he mumbled, revving the engine.

“Go on, take ‘er for a spin.”

She watched as he took off again, not fighting the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“And just like that, you’re in love.”

She jumped at the voice that came from behind her, turning to face a man standing at around 6”2’.

“How’d you know?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Bucky’s a pretty good friend of mine. Hated him at first but I grew to love the man as we got older.”

She turned the slightest bit to look at him.

“He’s like a brother,” he assured. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m-”

“Y/N. Heard lots about you from the Black Widow herself. What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I was just visiting for a few days. Nat wants me to move out here but I don’t know yet.”

“Well, you should. You’ll be with us for the most part. Besides, Bucky’s making you his girlfriend before you even get the chance to pack your suitcase.”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

She could feel her cheeks burning up as he slowly made his way back to the compound.

“I know when my best friend’s in love. He has this look that fails to mask the fact that he’s in love.”

“Nat, last time we did that-”

“Don’t mention it. Just put your shoes on and come downstairs.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing a random pair of black high heels before going to meet Natasha downstairs. It seemed that all eyes were on her, everyone admiring the nymph in front of them.

“As I probably mentioned numerous times before-”

“This is your cousin, Y/N. She’s beautiful beyond words and she’s got a killer personality. Nat, I’ve listened to you go on about her for the past two weeks. She’s lovely, but you sound like a broken record at this point, sweetheart,” Steve interjected, offering Y/N a smile while taking Nat’s arm in his.

“She’s got a voluptuous ass too,” she heard Sam mutter under his breath.

“Speak up, sweetie,” she baited with a giggle.

The glare that bored into the side of Sam’s face was all but amiable, his fists copying the actions of his jaw as they tightened at his sides. Sam moved up a bit with a smug, glorious smirk, walking directly next to Y/N.

“You’ve got the man whipped and you haven’t even fucked him yet.”

She nearly choked on her saliva.

“Sam, cut it out,” she scolded the younger man.

“You know it’s true,” he lifted his arms in surrender to her sass, dodging her objection.

Drinking was hardly ever a good idea when Y/N and Nat were together. Y/N had gotten better over the years, knowing her limit with alcohol, but Nat let all hell loose. Unless they weren’t in the middle of a mission, she was taking shot after shot, drink after drink, until she was struggling to stand on her own two feet. Y/N was amazed sometimes as to how she could drink that much without throwing up.

“Another one, come on,” Nat tugged on her arm, the colored lights making her head grow fuzzy as they stood at the bar.

“Two shots of silver tequila, anything’ll do!”

Y/N gagged merely at the sight of clear liquid filling the little glasses.

“Anything else?” the bartender asked over the blaring music, Nat simply scanning everyone’s glasses along the bar.

“Whatever she’s having, the pink thing.”

She bit her lip to suppress a chuckle, earning a concerned look from an obviously drunken Nat.

“What?”

“I’ll be over there with Sam and Tony.”

“But your shot-”

“Take it - I don’t know, do something with it!”

Y/N pat her back, sliding past her as she made her way to the pair sitting at the booth.

“Not up for dancing?” she queried, looking back and forth between them.

“God, no! What, you want me to look like an idiot?”

“C’mon, Tony! Pepper had to teach you something,” she surveyed the nightclub quickly, a silver arm catching her eye rather quickly. “What about you? I’d love to see the ‘Round Brown’ in action.”

“The falcon comes to life in these settings,” he informed her, winking slyly.

She tucked her straw between her lips, a smooth fruity mixture cascading down her throat to suppress the guffaw that danced at the tip of her tongue. The music changed, the lights dimming to a deep, dark purple. She looked at Tony and then Sam, both of them looking around at mounds of bodies on the dance floor.

She followed their eyes, that damn metal arm catching her eyes again. Tons of women threw themselves at him, wanting to get just a little taste of that metal arm, soon leaving solemnly as he turned them away.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be over there.”

Sam easily replaced Bucky, the ladies now feeling up on him as if he were some hunk of meat. She didn’t spare a word to Tony, only offering a lopsided smile as Pepper made her way over to the booth. Y/N slid from her seat, feeling a sudden warmth settle upon her skin as she made her way over to Bucky. He finally acknowledged her, pupils amplifying against his gunmetal irises.

She couldn’t help her lips from moving along to the lyrics, “I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be / And satisfaction feels like a distant memory / And I can't help myself, all I / Wanna hear her say is ‘Are you mine?’”

His eyes were all but sweet and bright, lust written all over his body as her fingers trailed up his chest, cupping his chin deftly.

“Well, are you mine? / Are you mine? / Are you mine?”

She cocked her head to the side, dismayed by his knowledge of the current song.

“Well, that depends, Mr. Barnes. If you want me to be yours, all you have to do is say the word,” she spoke quiet enough for only him to hear, tongue skimming along the edge of his ear.

By the way he licked his lips, she could tell that he wanted to do more than just verbally claim her.

She’s fucking dangerous.

She looked up at Bucky, fingers coyly playing with each other as if she hadn’t just given him a glimpse of a completely different side to her. His lips were on hers in an instant, hands palming her backside as they slowly inched further up her dress, eventually landing on a little strap of leather higher up her thigh.

He couldn’t help his hands from exploring every inch of her skin, nails leaving gentle burning sensations as they raked at her skin. He lost it when her back arched, her chest colliding with his as her fingers soon got lost in his hair, one leg raising to pull his body closer, if even possible. He pulled away abruptly, one hand cradling the underside of her thigh and the other right under her chin.

“I need you to fuck me, like right now, because I think I might pass out if you don’t,” she spoke gravelly, lips crashing onto his once more in a heated, sloppy kiss.

Her feet were swept from the ground in a matter of a few seconds, arms crossing against Bucky’s back as she dangled over his shoulder. Her eyes traveled over the black motorbike once they’d made it outside, squealing as he held onto her hips, pulling her down so she was seated in his lap as he laid back in his seat. Her hands were everywhere all at once, though seeming to avoid the area in which he needed her the most.

It was quite a scene, a cacophony of grunts and whimpers being evoked from the pair. Hearing the engine of his bike roar, Y/N pulled off, pupils fixated on his with her hands on either side of his face. The ride was quite something - full of lingering, teasing touches, sweet, albeit intense, kisses, and reprehensible whispers.

The faint light of a wacky gas station illuminated his silhouette, his flesh hand easily adjusting itself around her throat, the other working to slide her dress just up around her waist before pushing her underwear aside, running two fingers up her folds. She hummed at the feeling, fingernails digging into that of his arm.

“‘S that feel good, doll?” he asked incoherently, voice barely above a whisper as his tongue nudged into her mouth.

She nodded, earning a buoyant pinch to her cunt. Her insides were going feral, wanting nothing more than his cock.

“I need words, toots.”

“F-uck yes, but I-I want y-ou,” she stammered, groaning when his fingers clamped even harder around her clit, thumb stimulating her nub.

He chuckled as her legs attempted to fly shut, only being stopped by his large thighs that were parting them.

“But you already have me, doll.”

“I-I need you to fuck me,” she got out, fingers draining of color as she balled the leather of his jacket.

His fingers pumped in and out of her, curling against her g-spot once before pulling out. She mentally cursed him out for looking so hot, tongue swiveling around his digits to taste her remnants.

“Fucking delicious,” he crooned, tapping his fingers against her lips before having her own tongue pivot around his faux fingers.

She easily freed him of his bottoms, his cock springing to meet his veiled torso. Her eyes widened.

Jesus fuck-

“It’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

She looked up at him, back down to his cock, and back up to his face.

“Hey, if you don’t wan-”

“No, god no. I still want you to fuck me. You’re just…bigger than average.”

He chuckled, dog tags clanging against his rumbling chest. Her legs were thrown over his thighs in seconds, tip barely prodding at her entrance. She could feel her skin burning up, eager to have him inside of her. He was taking far too long, manipulating her legs into many different angles so it wouldn’t be as uncomfortable. She griped aloud, palms landing flat on his pecs as she pushed him back against the seat.

“Impatient, huh?” he couldn’t help the cocky grin splayed on his face.

“Taking too long,” she grumbled, sinking down onto him.

She groaned at the feeling, being stretched out beyond her limit. Her head lazed back as if she had no vertebrae, hands getting lost in his hair as his hips bucked up into her. She cried out, legs tightening around his hips as she soon began to bounce on his cock.

“Attagirl,” he praised, hands cupping either of her breasts before flicking over her nipples.

With the way he twitched inside of her and with the way her walls clamped around him, both of them could tell they wouldn’t last too long. It was far beyond erratic and the words spurring out of Bucky’s mouth helped the least bit.

“This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Bet no one has fucked you this good yet, huh doll?”

Her legs grew tired as she felt herself lurching on the edge of her climax. She fought the burn, arms holding him impossibly tight as her walls fluttered around him.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?”

She nodded, not being able to get out one comprehensible word. She came around him with a celestial moan, legs twitching ever so gently. His pace didn’t falter once, hands coming up to her waist as he fucked her through her high. Her eyes widened as she felt herself on the verge of another orgasm, Bucky’s pace relentless as he savored the way she felt so snug around his cock.

“Buck-”

“Fuck, you’re killing me, doll.”

He wanted nothing but to fuck the soul out of her, such pleasant sounds rolling off her tongue. It was a matter of seconds before he swung both legs over his bike, not leaving her body at any point, before hoisting both legs around his torso, hips snapping into hers as if his life depended on it. She yelped, his tip grazing at her cervix. For a moment, she saw stars, vision going blurry as he fucked her into oblivion, another release washing over her.

He slowed down a second, picking his pace back up until he was close. At that point, she was hardly even conscious, walls flexing around him with his nails creating crescent-like welts on her thighs. Her legs clung onto his waist, his hips coming to a halt before spurts of cum filled her. She finally opened her eyes when he’d pulled out of her, shivering at the feeling of his cum trickling out of her.

Bucky ventured off for some water and tissues, anything for a quick fix until they got back to the compound. The flashing of red and blue lights fully alerted her now, the siren growing louder as it approached the station. She looked up at Bucky who was walking out of the gas station with a bottle of water and a box of tissues, scrambling to her feet.

“Easy there, doll. I don’t want you passing out on me now.”

“Buck, we need to leave now.”

The sudden urgency in her tone drew a look of worry on Bucky’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping once they faced directly towards one another. “Did I do so-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured him, pecking his lips quickly. “But, I’m afraid that someone reported us to the cops.”

They drove right up the curb, pulling up next to a pump.

“But we didn’t-”

“Public nudity, Buck.”

“We weren’t even naked!”

“To be fair, your dick was out, sweetheart. Not to mention, you did fuck me in the center of a gas station.”

He looked over his shoulder, the eyes of two middle-aged officers stuck on him. As they made their way over to the pair, Y/N hopped onto his bike, Bucky hot on her tail before tapping her thigh.

“Show me how you ride, princess.”

Taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @i-love-scott-mccall - join here!

[yeahimaloser]

Sweet Like Flowers (Part One)

Hello!! So this is my first time writing for Shigaraki! It’ll be multiple parts, but here’s the first part!

Summary: your life was miserable, living qurikless, with parents who hated you. Until one day, a boy came along and change your life for the better. Taking you in, for purposes of an arranged marriage.

2.3 k words

They/them pronouns used for reader

Tomura and the reader get into an arranged marriage so if that’s uncomfortable for you then please do not read! Also talks of abusive parents, please be warned.

—————

All men are not created equal, that much was apparent with the existence of quirks. In a world that practically depended on the power that an individual had, not having one made you useless.

You were a child born without a quirk, how despicable.

You didn’t have a purpose in your family, therefore, they despised you. A weak child.

A family of villains, with a child born quirkless, how pathetic. The family name now muddled with your existence. Your own father looked at you as though you being born was a curse. Your own mother acted as if you weren’t hers, as if you didn’t exist at all, living a life that she preferred, without you in it.

You felt completely drained, like drowning would be better than your living hell.

Nobody needed you, nobody wanted you.

Most days, you would spend alone. Locked in your room -which had such little space- with only a few toys to ever play with.

You did roam around the gardens though, finding them peaceful and the only escape you seemed to have.

Taking in the flowers around you, smelling them, it was your own private hevan.

Nobody could reach you here, this was your safe space, only for you.

Until you met a boy.

You had been in the gardens, as you do on your normal days, when a boy you had never seen before was there.

He was just wondering around, clearly lost, but very much entranced by the beauty of the flowers before him.

“U-um,” you stuttered lightly.

His head perked up, his red eyes following you.

He had pale, cracked skin, and red hard eyes. His hair looked to be a blueish shade, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, “I didn’t mean...I...I can leave if-”

But you, surprisingly, shook your head, “N-no, it’s ok. I’ve just...never seen you.”

The boy explained that he was not from around there, and had gotten lost. But saw the garden and decided that he could probably find someone there.

“Oh,” you said, “I can...get a phone for you if you want. We have one in the house-”

But the boy shook his head, “No...I don’t wanna bother your family, someone will find me, I know it.”

You didn’t know what he meant but shrugged it off.

“My name is Tomura.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, caught off guard, “I-I’m Y/N.”

He scratched a dry patch on his skin, “Can I...look at the flowers...with you?”

A part of you was scared, you didn’t know this kid, and what if he was dangerous?

Your whole life you've been scared, it was mostly a product of your environment. Parents who didn't love you, it would make any kid scared of the world.

But the way that Tomura was looking at you, it made you think that maybe- just maybe- you could have a friend.

He looked at you, not with the disgust you had seen so many times, but with hope. And it made your heart flutter.

“S-sure,” you said, voice still wavering.

You never had a friend before, you didn't even know what friends did together. The only thing you did know, is that you felt your body tingle with anxity. You could feel your palms sweating, feel your heart racing in your chest.

What if someone saw you, what would they think? Would you get in trouble?

Your body shivered at the thought.

But soon, you are watching as bees buzzed around the flower, making small conversations with Tomura.

The air around you two felt nice, natural.

You talked about your parents, your past and how you didn't like living in your house. How your life didn't feel like your own.

“Your parents do that to you? Just because you don’t have a quirk,” Tomura asked.

You nodded, fondling lightly with the flower stem in your hands.

He scratched his neck, “That’s not right...they should...they shouldn’t do that to you.”

But you just shrugged, “Nothing I really can do.”

But you could feel Tomura’s anger besides you, “Parents should help and protect their children, not abuse them. They should pay for what they’re doing to you. Parents shouldn’t hurt their kids.”

Suddenly, he stopped scratching.

“Is…” you spoke softly, “is that what your parents did to you?”

Tomura’s breath caught, and you were scared you had offended him. But he spoke slowly, “My father...he-”

But Tomura didn’t say anything more than that, and you didn’t push him.

Talking with Tomura felt as if you could finally tell someone everything you've been keeping inside. And he listened, and a part of you knew that he knew better than anyone else what you were feeling. He didn't even need to tell you.

You two continued to roam the gardens. Looking at the wonderful flowers together.

He scratched at his skin, and when you asked him about it he just shrugged, “Skin condition...sorry I’ll stop if you want me to.”

You shook your head, “No, I don’t really care. But if you need some lotion I have some.”

He smiled, blushing slightly, “Don't worry about it, I’ll be ok.”

“I do think I should be getting back to my master, though. I’m sure he must be worried.”

You frowned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you again...promise.”

And so, he left.

But, you did see him again after that.

He would come to the garden, at least twice a week. And you two would talk, and talk until the sun set on each day. And you felt like you finally had a friend.

. . .

One day, to your suprise, your father had come into your room, “Come child, my master has summoned us.”

You didn’t know who your father was talking about, but all you could do was get up silently and follow him. Without a word, you both got into his car, your eyes glued to the ground the whole time, never looking towards your father.

You felt suffocated, just by the mere presence of your father. As if the air that you breathed, was poisonous. you wanted to run out the door, run and never look back. Maybe find Tomura and convince him to run away with you.

You didn’t know who you were meeting, or why they would want some quirkless nobody like you, but you didn’t question anything, too scared to speak.

Father said nothing, but you could feel his cold glare, and all you wanted to do was shrink down to where he couldn’t see you anymore. You wanted to run, you wanted to run and never look back at your pathetic life.

Soon, though, the car came to a halt, and your father and you got out.

Your father grabbed your elbow before you could walk one step, his breath hot in your ear, making you flinch, “Say anything to embarrass me, and I swear to you, I’ll kill you.”

The venom in his voice made your eyes water, your body shake, your mind going fuzzy.

But you nodded, breath running raged.

He let go of you and walked up the stairs up to the house you had stopped at.

You looked up at the house, only for a moment, seeing how big it was, and how dark and shadowy it looked made you dip your head back down. The house towering over you felt so ominous, all you wanted to do was hide somewhere far away.

But your father pushed past you, “Move it, Brat.”

You squeaked, moving forward, following closely behind your father, but you maintained a distance.

“Ah, L/N!” A man’s voice said in front of you, making your fists flinch at the unexpectedness of his voice.

“So glad you could make it,” the man kept talking, “and you brought the child with you, I hope?”

You didn’t dare look up, too terrified of who or what could be standing in front of you. So you kept your eyes down, fist clenched tightly.

“Yes, Y/N is here, sir,” Your father’s voice sounded unfazed, cool, and monotoned.

“I have brought my child, as you have requested, One For All.”

The tightness of your fist increase, anxiety spreading through your body like a wildfire.

You didn’t know this man, and you didn’t know what he wanted. But all you did know, was that you were scared.

“Child,” the man’s voice was closer now, a few inches away from you, “Let me look at you.”

You did as he asked, lifting your chin so you were face to face.

His face was covered in a thick mask, but his dark demeanor still frightened you. As if he carried a heavy evilness around him.

You heard the man chuckle, “Tomura,” he called, “come see our guests.”

Head remaining down, your eyes went wide with realization.

Tomura, your only friend in the garden, came down the staris to meet you.

“H...hello,” a shy voice said.

You raised your head.

It was him, Tomura, his face was pink, all the way up to his ears. His eyes looked at you with such excitement and yet, with the same amount of hesitation.

But still, he was as cute as when you first meet him.

You didn’t say anything, too frozen to open your mouth.

“Hi...Y/N. I’m glad to see you again.”

You found your voice, but it was small and quiet, “H...hi.”

All For One smiled, “Ah, children, so innocent.”

Your father turned to the man, “What exactly do you want with my child, Sir. Not to sound disrespectful, but you haven’t told us anything yet. Me or my wife.”

“Ah, L/N. Is it not true your family that your family is in major debt?”

You heard your father sputter, his face splintered into bewilderment and embarrassment.

But All For One just smiled, “And why would you need your little quirkless child? I’ve heard some pretty nasty things about the way you treat them. So, I am proposing an arranged marriage. I’m sure there will be no problem, and your family will be compensated, of course.”

Your father was speechless, but you knew he would accept.

The look of pure disdain your father would throw your way made you know his opinions of you. You knew what he thought, you knew. The way his fists clenched in anger whenever he saw you, the way he would neglect you, you knew he hated you.

You knew that he saw you as nothing but an obstacle, a way that made his life even harder. You wanted to apologize for it, but how would you even apologize for something you had no control over? You were just worthless, to everyone, even yourself.

So, your father agreed, but he had questions.

“My Lord, I do not care what you do with the child. But why would you want someone quirkless? I have other children, strong, useful. Not this Bratt.”

There it was again, the disdain, the anger, you flinched at his words, and Tomura noticed.

But All For One just answered simply, “Oh, I didn’t pick the child, my ward Tomura did.”

You look at him, seeing his face become red and his eyes go down to the floor in embarrassment.

“Tomura has been sneaking out to see Y/N and asked me, saying he wanted to marry Y/N. And, whatever Tomura wants, he gets. It is as simple as that.”

Your father stood there, mouth ajar.

“Now, if in the future Tomura decides he doesn’t want Y/N anymore, then they will just become his servant. Simple.”

Your hands shook, your heart racing. You didn’t want this, you wanted to run, to scream.

Nobody cared what you wanted, no one cared about your feelings, now you were trapped inside a living hell, forever.

But, you felt someone take your hand, although you felt only four fingers hold on to you.

“Are you ok with that?”

Your eyes stared back into his, watching as the lights bounced off them. He looked so cute, so kind and inviting. With him, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

You had never felt this before, feeling that someone genuinely wanted you. As if, Tomura didn't see you as a useless, disposable human being. He saw you as real, a real person that had feelings, someone he wanted to get to know. He didn’t see you like a burden, he saw you as...you.

No one had ever given that to you, no one had ever looked at you the way he was looking right now. With such sincerity, with such understanding.

You squeezed his hand, “I...I think so,” you nodded, “Yes.”

And so, your marriage was set.

[starconsumer444]

Just found you and already smitten with your dark content. Could you maybe write either Kuroo/Suna/Tendou/Bokuto (whichever u choose) brother or stepbrother catching sister/stepsister trying to masturbate but not knowing how so they edge her relentlessly until she agrees to let him have sex with her because he's tricked her thats the only way she can really cum the first-time? Finishing with a nice cream pie?

Older Brother!Suna (18+)

A/N:Thank you thank youuu~ I’m sorry I didn’t go with the “relentless” edging, I just did it one time because it was getting long and I have a sick and twisted sadomasochistic habit of writing from the late hours of the night until the early hours of the morning and getting dead tired half way through. I’m not sure if that was all that great in comparison to my other works, but I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

(CW/TW: Incest, Virginity [Suna makes it hurt too, but there is an orgasm <3], Coercion, Dubcon, Edging??? Or just flat-out orgasm denial...,Age gap??? [Reader is 18, Suna is 25] Fingering, Creampie, Absolutely Clueless reader..., Masturbation, Suna is an asshole in this one, Deception, Manipulation and PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!!)

Unfortunately for you, university wasn't all that it was talked up to be in terms of sex and anything else really. You went into your first year thinking you were gonna lose your virginity, make new friends, go to frat parties, and just have all-around wild experiences. Suna, when he was in school, would always come back with cool stories to tell you, and had a new girlfriend every break he got. To have cool experiences like your big brother was the only reason you wanted to go, but unfortunately for you, it was none of that. Maybe it’s because you’re not an athlete like him, but it was studies, a newfound coffee addiction, and a roommate that never seemed to go anywhere. All that on top of your dead social life, absolutely miserable..

When Suna came to pick you up from the airport so you two could spend the holidays with your parents (a tradition no matter how old either of you get), you told him all about it. Sure, you didn’t grow up particularly close with him being seven years older and all, but he was still your older brother and no topic seemed to be off limits with him, so it was nice. He wasn’t the most doting older sibling and definitely not the most talkative either, but he was good for listening. Really, listening was his strong suit.

You told him about your lackluster social life and your mountains of schoolwork, but, even knowing he wouldn’t mind, you didn’t tell him about the sex stuff. Why would you? He’s your older brother. He shouldn’t know things like that about you.

Needless to say, you go home for winter break a sexually frustrated virgin. Maybe, if you had tried a little harder with the people at school it wouldn’t have come to this?

The house had been dead silent when you decided to, for the first time, attempt to masturbate. You were sure no one was home, not your mom, not your dad, and not your older brother, Suna. Still, you could’ve at least checked before you completely stripped your lower half.

It wasn’t going well, you had two fingers inside yourself and you didn’t feel anything. You felt like a doctor doing a self-probe at best. It just felt... wrong? But this is how the girls in porn do it, right? There’s no way you’re getting this wrong. You’re doing exactly what you see; moving your fingers in and out, even curling them a bit… What could you possibly be doing wrong?

Suna watches you silently from your slightly cracked door.

Pitiful, he thinks.

He was just coming by to ask if you wanted anything from the store because he was headed out. He didn’t expect to see his little sister struggling with her fingers in her cunt. He can postpone that walk to the corner-store to bond with his little sister.

He doesn’t even bother knocking to spare you the humiliation, just pushes the door open and lets himself right in.

You notice him immediately and let out a loud scream, closing your legs and trying to hide yourself by turning away from him. You want to disintegrate. Your body is burning up with embarrassment.

What does he want? Why now?

You feel his weight make your childhood bed dip and you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. One of his calloused hands caresses your thigh and you don’t move away from it the way you know you’re supposed to. You’re frozen.

What is he doing?

“Suna, get out!” You turn to look at him and grab his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Can’t he take a hint? “What are you-”

“You’re not doing it right.” He pipes up. In the back of his mind he knows this is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with his baby sister.

“Huh?” You’re clearly lost.

“I’ve done this before, let me help you.”

It takes nothing for him to separate your legs and settle himself in between them.

“You’re still a virgin?” His fingers slide gently up and down the wetness between your folds and it draws a sharp whimper and a harsh nod from you.

Suna is twenty-five and has enough sense about himself to know this is wrong. He’s not going to try to rationalize it. He’s just taking a golden opportunity even if that opportunity is his little sister. He has a knack for corrupting innocent girls like you; it’s fun for him even if it’s sick and perverted.

The dirty feeling you get having your brother touching and eyeing your most intimate parts is intense. You want him to keep going, but you know you should tell him to stop.

“Suna, this isn't okay.”

He shushes you but nods his head.

“I’m just helping you.” He says matter-of-factly. “It’s not like you can make yourself cum. Let your big brother help you, okay?” He insists and pushes two fingers inside your hole.

You scoot back out of shock and let out a surprised yelp, “O-okay,”

If he hears the nerves in your voice, he doesn’t do anything to acknowledge it. All he does is scoot closer and offer a gentle smile, the same brotherly one he gave you when he left for college and you cried wanting him to stay. That smile.

It feels so different when he fingers you. He’s not being as rough as you were and he’s definitely more practiced; you’re sure there’s tons of girls he’s done this too. It feels good, especially with him rubbing pleasant circles into your clit. You shouldn’t like this as much as you do.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm,”

He starts to speed up, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop the moans from being too loud in case you two weren’t the only ones home. His fingers are like magic and you don’t know how to react.

With the stimulation to your clit and his fingers inside you, above cloud nine is where you are. You’ve never felt like this, and there’s a tinge of guilt about it being with your brother but this is too good.

As cute as you look with your heaving chest and your eye’s starting to unfocus, he knows he’s not done with you. When he feels you start to spasm around his fingers he pulls them out, because this may be his only chance to use you, his little sister.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean like the perv he knows he is. It leaves you staring with your mouth hanging open, clearly searching for the words.

“What?” He asks, feigned puzzledness all over his expression. “You taste good.” He chuckles inwardly, you cringe internally. That’s not what you were going to ask, though.

“No…” You can’t look at him, so you look down and play with the sheets on your bed.

“Come on, what is it?”

“I think I was going to cum… and you-”

“That’s dumb, you can’t cum from being fingered.” There’s a seriousness in his tone, you take it as fact; he knows he’s lying.

“But the girls in porn-”

“It’s porn, it’s not realistic.”

You’ve heard that before. You guess it’s true, especially if Suna says it. It must be.

Thank god for shitty sex ed, he muses internally because without it, this wouldn’t be possible.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks curiously.

All you offer in response is a meek nod. You’re not actually certain on going through with your brother making you cum, but if it’s anything like the way he made you feel just now… maybe, it’s not so bad.

He tells you to lay down, and you do so without hesitation. With your legs splayed open over his thighs, it feels grosser knowing your brother has an even clearer view of you. You wish you had the self control to just say no and end this.

He pulls his sweats and underwear down; if your heartbeat wasn’t going crazy before it definitely is now. His dick is thick and long. He’s rock hard, his tip is pinker than the rest of it, and there’s clear stuff leaking out. It looks like it’s going to hurt, even looks like it’s hurting him right now.

“Suna, wait is this-” You don’t know how to finish. “I’m a virgin.”

“I know, you told me already.” He’s not really paying attention to you. He spits on his hand and rubs it all up and down his length. It’ll hardly help more than the fingering, but it’s a kindness he’s willing to give his little sister. “Just… relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says as he leans over you, guiding his length to your entrance.

Immediately you clench and shut him out.

“I-I’m sorry I just-”

“It’s fine, just relax like I said.”

You do, and he starts to push in. It burns. Stings? Something like a mix of those two.

Even if there was lube for you to use, Suna wouldn’t have offered. He likes the way his baby sisters' face contorts  in pain and confusion. You look cute losing your virginity to your big brother.

“AH-” It’s a sharp, pained exclamation coming from you as your hand pushes at his chest. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders now and he’s impaling you slowly inch by agonizing inch. You can feel him stretch you, but you don’t want him to stop, you’ve waited so long for this.

One of his hands rests on your lower stomach and you beg him to do anything to make you feel better when he’s all the way in. He rubs at your clit and leans over to kiss you like you’re his girlfriend.

Without warning he starts to move. It’s nothing but shallow and slow thrusts that have you feeling every inch of him. If it’ll make you cum, you can handle it. All you want is to cum. Combined with his fingers working on your clit, you’re sure you will, right?

Your moans are soft, even if it doesn’t feel that great. The girls in porn moan all the time, it’s the right thing to do.

When he feels like he’s been kind enough, he starts to move faster. You start to get used to it and your legs start to shake from the combined stimulation and strain from being bent at such an angle.

It’s like magic. Your orgasm washes over you,your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body shakes and your back arches off your soiled sheets.

Shock is plastered on Sunas typically inexpressive face. He didn’t expect you to actually...

His little sister is so sensitive. Most girls wouldn’t climax like that their first time. There’s an unspoken sense of pride in this for him. Still, he’s not stopping until he cums too.

You’re whining and squirming up under him, pushing at his hips and moving his hand away from your clit like him continuing is killing you after you’ve worked through your first orgasm. He assures you that’s how it’s supposed to feel and you’re supposed to wait until he cums too.

Once more, you’re laying there in discomfort and he’s getting off to it. Suna knows he’s wrong for it but he just can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s so close. He especially doesn’t care when he sees your horrified expression as you feel him paint your walls with his warm cum. He’ll make sure you don’t get pregnant later, but for right now he wants to savor this moment.