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kizzykiszka · 9 months

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TEASE

pairings: josh x danny || word count: 4k || warnings: heavy smut. too many tags to count.

Summary: After a show, Danny decides to confront Josh in his hotel room about an encounter they had together that left Danny feeling a little frustrated.

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12:30am

Hours had passed since the band had waved goodbye to their loving fans for the night. The show had been perfect for once. Josh got himself handed a few shots of tequila that he happily downed mid-song, Danny sported a new pair of sunglasses while Jake and Sam both danced around in several layers of feathery boas that stuck to their sweat covered bodies. And after a very long encore performance for their Chicago fans, they were all happy to retire to their hotel rooms for the night.

Josh loved life on stage. The adrenaline high, the thousands of people singing along with him and the pure love he felt from his audience was a feeling he strived to achieve with each show. But he wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t exhausting. Usually after a show, he’d quickly get out of the jumpsuit he wore and into more breathable clothing to wear on the drive back to the hotel. They’d share some drinks among each other and then each retire to their separate sleeping quarters for the night. Josh would shower and go through the motions of his self care before lighting some incense and reflecting in the peace and quiet about the day and what he could do for a better tomorrow.

Tonight though, the band had a break in their travels. The next show was going to be Fort Worth, Texas and they weren’t due to leave the windy city for another few days. Josh decided tonight that he’d catch up on some reading he was behind on and sleep in. Something he rarely got to do. So, he was now wrapped up in the blankets of his bed with his nose buried in a book when a small knock interrupted his train of thought. “That’s weird,” Josh thought to himself as he glanced at the bedside clock, “It’s almost 2am. Everyone should be asleep by now.” Still, curiosity got the best of him and he got up out of bed to see who it was.

He only cracked the door open a bit and was greeted with the smiling face of the band’s drummer, Danny. “Hey,” Danny whispered, a huge grin on his face, “I knew you’d still be up. Can I come in?”

“Of course I’m still up,” Josh whispered back, confusion in his voice as he opened the door enough for Danny to slip in, “I guess you can come in. Did you need something?” Danny steps inside the dimly lit room and it’s here that Josh can see that he had a plastic bag in his hand. “You went out?” Josh inquired, “Without Shadow or anything?”

“Yeah, it’s like 1am and I wanted candy, nobody’s gonna know it was me,” Danny reassured the singer, “Sam and Jake are already out cold, so I figured you might like to join in. I got… a shit load of candy.”

Josh pursed his lips together thoughtfully as Danny began to noisily dig through the bag. “Did you get… gummy worms?” he asked, peering around Danny’s arm to inspect the contents that were being tossed onto his bed. Gummy bears, Sweet Tarts, Skittles, several chocolate bars and… a 6 pack of Budweiser. “I got all kinds of stuff,” Danny replied, “Take whatever you want.” After a moment of thought, Josh decided on the gummy bears since they were closest to the chewy sensation he was looking for. Tearing open the bag, Josh put a few in his mouth to chew on while he gazed out upon the brightly lit city ahead of him. Behind him, the hiss of a beer can opening echoed around the room, “I know it’s late,” Danny said, taking a sip, “But I… kinda wanted to talk to you and I couldn’t think of another time to do it.”

There it was. Josh sighed deeply, letting his body sink into the armchair in the den area of the room. “Oh yeah?” he said, gently tugging the hem robe he wore nervously, “What did you want to talk about?”

Danny’s footsteps could barely be heard across the carpeted floor as he approached Josh from behind. The beer can was placed on the accent table to Josh’s left and a pair of big hands suddenly took hold of his shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine. “I think you know.” Danny’s voice whispered. His breath now smelling heavily of the cheap beer while his fingertips carefully pulled apart the robe to reveal Josh’s bare shoulders. Danny’s fingers slid down Josh’s collarbone to explore his chest. It was as the tips of his friend’s fingers brushed past his nipple that Josh suddenly came to his senses and pushed him away. “Danny… I told you, it… it wasn’t like that,” he stammered, pulling the robe back up over his body, “I didn’t… mean too. It just happened.”

“Mm,” Danny hummed, his eyebrows raised, “Is that so?”

Josh stood up now and re-wrapped himself in the robe. His cheeks were flushed a soft shade of pink, eyes downcast to the floor. He couldn’t even look at Danny. It was embarrassing, “Y-Yes…” Josh’s reply was unsure, “I… I told you. I just– I had a few too many drinks and… it just happened. I don’t want it to go any further than that…”

His body was turned away as Danny took a seat in the chair that he’d just been sitting in. Tongue in cheek, Danny takes another sip of beer and shakes his head. “That’s funny,” he chuckled, “Because as I recall, I was the one who had to push you off so your brothers didn’t come in and see you with your hands down the pants of their unofficial family member.”

Josh chewed on the inside of his cheek wordlessly, eyes still trained on the floor out of embarrassment. “It’s okay to admit you like me, Josh. We’ve been passive aggressively flirting for years behind closed doors so I’m sure you had some idea that this was gonna happen eventually.” Danny explained. Josh tossed the gummy bear bag to the couch behind him and let out a frustrated groan, “What do you want me to say Daniel?” he asked, “That I want you all to myself? That I meant to kiss you? That I wanted to keep going?”

Danny shrugged, a smirk now filling his lips, “Actually, what I want is to continue what you left me to deal with after Sam took you to your room. It’s not very nice to get a fella excited and then just leave him the way you did.”

If Josh could get any more red, he would. And he did. It was incredibly tempting. Touring was so exhausting and stressful. He’d give anything to let off a little steam. Everyone was asleep and they would likely sleep in late just like he’d planned too. Nobody would know, so it didn’t matter… right?. Danny pats his open lap gently, motioning for Josh to come and take a seat on top of him like he’d done just a few days ago. With one more longing glance to the darkened skyline outside, Josh decided that he didn’t have much to lose. He turned back towards the chair and though hesitant about it, he climbed into Danny’s lap. The big warm hands that had been on his shoulders moments ago now took their place around Josh’s waist as he straddled Danny carefully. He was still having trouble looking at the man below him, and Danny was very aware of this. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Danny teased, “Look at me, baby boy. I wanna see those big brown eyes of yours.”

Danny gently reached up from his grasp on Josh’s waist and carefully used his fingers to manually turn Josh’s head towards him. His eyes reluctantly followed while Danny’s thumb petted the side of his reddened cheeks in a loving manner. “You are painfully pretty, you know that?” Danny murmured. Josh scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, sure…”

“I’m absolutely sure,” Danny smirked, bringing Josh’s face closer to his, “What would you like for me to do to you, Mr. Kiszka?”

Oh, just about anything. Josh’s mind was swimming in every dirty fantasy he could think of. He would never openly admit that he’d lusted over Danny long before they’d even been co-workers, but having liked him for that long there were so many things he wished for Danny to do to him. Before Josh could even put in a request, their lips connected together into a deep kiss that sent relief washing over Josh’s body. The hands that had been resting patiently on Danny’s chest soon wandered upward to dig his fingers into the depths of the soft black curls of his lover’s head. The kiss starts out sweet but the neediness takes over and Josh isn’t shy about letting Danny’s tongue creep inside to explore his mouth. While Josh tasted of a faint sweetness from the gummy bears the lingering flavor of hops on Danny’s tongue instantly overpowered the interaction. While distracted with the kisses, Danny’s own hands moved up to undo the knot that Josh had tied into the robe. It was a struggle but he eventually freed Josh from the confines of his fluffy prison. The kiss is broken as Josh jumps away a bit in surprise. Not thinking he’d have visitors tonight, he was completely naked underneath the robe. Instantly, his cheeks flush red again out of embarrassment. Danny, meanwhile, couldn’t stop himself from eyefucking the boy who was straddling his lap. “This is infinitely better than what I was thinking,” he breathes out in awe before turning his gaze back up to Josh, “... Question is now, what do I do with you?”

Danny moves to quickly unwrap the rest of his partner from the robe and toss it to the adjacent couch. Being that he was totally nude made Josh feel much smaller than he already was. Danny’s eyes briefly glance down to the erection Josh was sporting. It was already begging for his attention, twitching uncomfortably. Not yet. “I think you’re due for some punishment,” Danny murmured thoughtfully, “I can’t just let you think it’s okay to get away with riling me up and leaving. That wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“No…”

“No, what?”

“No… sir…”

“Good boy,” Danny mused, “Now, I want you to get on your knees right there in front of me. You can suck me off with that talented little mouth of yours.”

A small pout forms on Josh’s lips and he rolls his eyes as he sinks in between Danny’s legs. His knees hit the rough carpet below as the sound of jeans unzipping filled the room, followed by the jingling of the metal belt that Danny was wearing. “You owe me,” Josh huffed, gently tugging his boxers down, “You know I don’t like doing this kinda stuff.”

“That’s why it’s punishment,” Danny chuckled, running a hand gently through the fluff on top of Josh’s head, “It’ll end faster if you start.”

Josh rolled his eyes once more, reaching upward to wrap his hands around the base of Danny’s cock and stroke it softly. He was rock hard already. And as much as Josh didn’t want to admit it, he was too. Josh starts out slow at first with just his hand while Danny continues sipping on the opened beer. Shifting his weight around, Josh gets himself closer in between Danny’s thighs and runs his tongue across the underside of his cock, stopping at the head to give it a small kiss. Danny finally uttered a small groan that deepened as the top half of his cock disappeared into Josh’s mouth. “Oh, fuck Josh…” he murmured, a single hand reaching down to gently grasp a handful of curls in his hand. Josh can feel the man’s hips twitch uncontrollably as he establishes a rhythm. “God, you’re good at this, aren’t you?” Danny grunted, a coy smirk on his face, “I knew you were a little slut but, this?”

Josh continues on for a few moments, his eyes shut tight while he continues to work the length in his hands. He hated sucking dick. Whether it was a stranger, a partner or god forbid– Danny. He hated stooping down this low. Despite this though, he was good at his job and did his best to pleasure everyone he was with. Danny was no exception. The beer can in Danny’s hand had been placed back on the table and was now occupied by tightly gripping the arm of the chair he sat in. A string of quiet moans escaping his mouth with each bob of his partner’s head. Farther and farther down Josh went until the tip of his nose was pressed against his belly, which normally wasn’t an issue for him but this time he wasn’t really expecting it.

Almost as soon as his nose came in contact with Danny’s skin, Josh’s eyes fluttered open and he shot backward quickly while coughing. “You good?” Danny asked while Josh wiped his face, nodding his head. “It just surprised me, that’s all,” Josh whispered, “I… I can keep going, I think…”

Danny glanced at the boy between his legs and then over to the bed, another smirk filling his face. “Mmm, no that’s okay,” he hummed, pushing himself up out of the chair, “I think I have a better idea. Come here~”

He shuffled past Josh, kicking off his jeans the rest of the way while beckoning his completely nude partner to follow him over to the bed. Josh double takes Danny and the bed, eyes growing wide before he rapidly shakes his head. “Danny, we… we can’t do that. Not here!” he whispered frantically, “What if someone hears us??”

“No one’s going to hear us,” Danny replied coolly, now tossing his shirt to join the pile of clothing on the floor, “Now get over here before I carry you myself.” Josh exhaled a deep sigh and picked himself up off the floor to hop across the room as quickly as he could. They may be on the 15th floor but he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing him like this. Shyly, he plopped down on the bed next to Danny with his eyes looking anywhere but him. “I kinda like this bratty side of you,” Danny purred, reaching out to turn Josh’s face to his with his fingers, “It’s kinda cute how you roll your eyes at everything.”

Josh opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a long kiss by Danny that he instantly fell into. Yeah, he’d been a little mad at his friend for going this far but all of that seemed to vanish the instant their lips connected. Again, Danny dips his tongue inside while Josh’s fingers explore the waves of curly black hair that drape around their upper bodies. A small gasp comes from Josh at some point as from out of the darkness, a hand takes his own member and starts to stroke it gently. God, it felt so good after not being able to touch himself for so long. He unconsciously grinds his hips into Danny’s hand while they continue exploring one another’s mouths.

The kisses are eventually broken and Danny moves down to work on Josh’s neck, his hand furiously stroking Josh’s member now. “God, Daniel…” Josh breathed out, “Please don’t leave any marks, they’ll… they’ll kill me…”

“Shh,” Danny hushed his partner with a grin on his face, “They won’t know. I promise.”

Danny moves farther down Josh’s chest, the kisses growing in intensity the farther down he goes. Past the collarbone in places he knew that no one else would see, Danny’s sure to leave behind several angry red hickeys to remind Josh of the experience he was about to have. Danny momentarily breaks his grasp on Josh’s member to hold tightly onto the boy’s hips. He was now sitting directly between Josh’s legs and was looking at his prize up and down with a look in his eyes that sent chills all across Josh’s body. “I’m gonna ravage you, you know that right?” Danny asked, bringing both of his palms up under Josh’s thighs to pull them upwards slowly.

Josh’s eyes widened once more, “W-Wait, we can’t do that yet… I–”

“You didn’t come prepared?” Danny interrupted him, turning around to the pile of clothes on the ground, “Don’t worry, I did.” From out of the pocket of his discarded pants, Danny extracts a small bottle of clear lubricant. Josh was both relieved and nervous at the same time. The cap of the bottle is opened with a loud click and Danny drizzles a hefty amount of his fingers, “You thought I’d dry fuck you? I mean I’m definitely punishing you but I’m not that angry.” Danny whispered. Josh’s entire body shuddered as he felt a finger curiously run across his hole, sending chills throughout his arms and legs. “Oh, fuck…” he hisses the words out of his mouth, throwing his head back up against the pillows.

Danny smirked and carefully pushed a finger inside, watching carefully as Josh writhed and moaned in response. While Danny continues stroking himself, one finger evolves into two and then into three that were fucking him so painstakingly slowly. When Danny was sure that Josh was fully prepared, he applied some lube to his own member and teasingly pressed it against Josh’s ass, “How much do you think you deserve this?” Danny teased.

By now, Josh was a mess. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and arms were up above his head, gripping the pillows tightly between his fingers. “I-I… I deserve it…” he whispered breathlessly, “I– I’ve been good.”

“Have you?” Danny questioned teasingly, “Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes!” Josh gasped the response out as the entirety of Danny’s tip entered him. Danny pulled back out again quickly, still with a teasing grin on his face, “You gonna leave me hanging like this ever again?”

Josh shook his head furiously, the look in his eyes pleading Danny to fuck him. Danny rolled his eyes playfully with a soft chuckle, “Alright, I guess I believe you.” Roughly, his hands move to pull Josh’s thighs up so that his legs are hovering up over his body. Guiding himself in, Danny pushes inside slowly. Josh chokes out a high-pitched moan, covering his mouth with his hand as his head rolls back into the pillows behind him. Danny clambers over the boy’s shaking body and they connect into a deep kiss again as Danny thrusts himself inside slowly, teasingly.

Josh whimpers into the kisses with each thrust, unable to control himself. It had been ages since he’d been fucked. Usually, he kept company with women that he’d meet occasionally on tour. With men he’d make exceptions but it was very far and few between. His thoughts were completely scrambled and all he could think of was how jelly like his legs felt now. The feeling was indescribable. “Fuck Daniel,” Josh mumbled between kisses, “Fuck me, please… harder…”

“I think you should beg for it some more,” Daniel whispered back, “I like hearing you whine.”

“Please,” Josh whimpered, wrapping his arms around Danny’s neck, “Please I– I need you too. Please…”

With a smirk on his face, Danny clenched his tongue between his teeth and moved his hands up to firmly grasp Josh’s little waist. With his thumbs dug tightly into Josh’s hips, he picked up his pace rapidly and received a loud moan from Josh in response. Fingernails are fug deep into Danny’s skin, dragging down the length of his back. Euphoria spread throughout the entirety of Josh’s body and he thought he could see stars each time Danny thrust deep inside him. “You wanna be bred you stupid little slut?” Danny growled the question under his breath, a free hand now back down to roughly stroking his partner while Josh could barely contain himself. Unable to formulate a full sentence, Josh nodded his head with a low whimper.

“I knew you’d want that,” Danny teased in Josh’s ear, “You’re such a bad boy. Moan louder for me, come on!” Danny’s voice commanded him, his free hand used to give Josh’s ass a hard smack. The sweat on Josh’s brow was now enough to wet his bangs and his heart was thumping heavily in his chest. At this rate, he’d cum at any time now. He couldn’t think. His entire body was responding in a way that he couldn’t comprehend. Josh wrapped his legs around Danny’s hips and pulled him closer, and though in the heat of the moment, Danny couldn’t help but smile. Danny dips back down and lets Josh wrap his quaking arms around his neck that Josh pressed his face into quickly. It wasn’t loud like he wanted but he was now privy to the tiny sounds Josh made each time his cock thrust deep inside him.

Maybe next time he’d have a little more fun. He was getting too close now and soon he’d have to return to his room.

Danny shuts his eyes and focuses intently on the whimpers of his partner. The words leaving Josh’s mouth were unintelligible but sweet. It was everything Danny could have asked for. “Cum inside me, please,” Josh whispered, “Please… I-I’m so close… Don’t stop…”

Music to his ears. The begging was enough to send Danny over the edge, and now at his limit, he thrusts himself inside of Josh as deep as he possibly could with a low groan that Josh chimes in with just seconds later. For a moment, they’re frozen in that position while the orgasms they experienced sent numbing shockwaves through their bodies. Eventually though Danny pulled out and shuffled back in the bed to admire the mess he’d made briefly. Josh had been rendered into a shaking mess with his own seed spread all across his belly and chest with his half lidded eyes staring at the nothingness above his head. Danny snorts and pats Josh’s thigh, “Now, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Josh breaks the trance he was in and makes brief eye contact with Danny, shaking his head with a small scowl, “No…” he admitted quietly, “... But now I have to shower again.”

Danny slides off the bed and hurriedly starts to put his clothes back on, “Well, that’s not such a bad thing,” he joked, “At least you’ll have the bus ride to sleep through, won’t you?”

_________

Reluctantly, he did take another shower. But this one felt more earned. The muscles that twitched and ached were soothed almost instantly once the warm water flowed freely around him. It was about 3am by the time he stepped out and if he wasn’t tired before, then he definitely was now. When he opened the door to the room, he found that the place was neat and tidy again.

“Danny?” Josh questioned, grabbing for the robe he’d discarded earlier to wrap around his chilly body. He looks around the room confusedly, finding himself a little saddened that his love making partner hadn’t stuck around for after care. But he left no trace of himself. The clothes were gone as was the bag of goodies and beer that he’d coaxed Josh to open the door with. Maybe he’d dreamed all of this? It felt like it since it looked like Danny hadn’t ever come in here.

Josh takes a seat on the edge of the freshly made bed, but jumps back out of surprise as the crinkle of plastic comes from underneath him. He’d sat on a bag of sour worms. And upon further inspection, there was a yellow sticky note attached. Knitting his brow together, Josh peeled it off to inspect it in the dimly lit room.

“See you next week <3”

Josh rolled his eyes and crumpled the sticky note to toss in the trash. “Like that’s gonna ever happen.” Josh mumbled, tearing open the gummy worm bag and digging his hand inside.

Like he’d ever let Danny fuck him again.

#greta van fleet #josh gvf #josh kiszka #gretavanfleet #gvf #danny gvf #danny wagner #gvf fic

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sarah-sandwich-writes · 7 months

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20 Questions - Fanfic Writer Edition

I was tagged by both @writer-or-whatever and @jmrothwell so I suppose I better do it 😅 Thanks guys!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 42 (*gasp* am I Miles Morales?)

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 1,265,660 lol

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently just Spider-Man but I used to write for Supernatural and before that Harry Potter. I'm a one obsession at a time kinda girl.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) - 72k spideypool soulmates au

Don't Freak Out - 136k parkner rivals to lovers speedrun

A Peach Like You - 73k parkner featuring autistic!peter, loveatfirstsight!harley, and a cringe self insert as the villain of the week lmao

The Distance Between (You and Me) - 29k parkner bodyguard au

You're Freaking Out - 166k sequel to DFO featuring plot (wow!) and Miles (yay!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

My dudes I try. I know I'm not very consistent and I have a tendency to disappear for months at a time, but I read and cherish each one.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angsty endings lol I think the closest I've gotten is Lay Me Down - 8k destiel major character death--lowest kudosed fic out of all 42 lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is an impossible question. I am like the queen of happy endings? You want me to rank them??? Fine, it's You're Freaking Out. Best 10k epilogue in the land. Oh hey also I just noticed it has 997 kudos. May I humbly request 3 more pretty please?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. Closest was when someone complained on one of my destiel fics about the grocery store not having plastic bags and needing a quarter in order to obtain a cart. I specifically remember they said, "I hate when writers do this," and went on to complain about us making up obviously fake stuff that pulls them out of the story. Like, first of all you're complaining about storytellers making stuff up ??? okay. And second, it was an Aldi. A real grocery store. That I didn't make up.

I had to take a day to cool off before I responded and then they were like oh yeah, my roommate told me when I complained to them, you responded to this really nicely though! WHICH folks LET ME TELL YOU made me angrier lol Like you found out you were wrong and didn't even come back to edit/delete/apologize for your comment???

Anyway after that I internalized that you don't know what kind of lived experience your commenters have so some comments should be taken with a grain of salt. Which is a double-edged sword bc sometimes I get really nice enthusiastic comments and read it like, okay but what if this person is 12 and read it at 2am in a fit of delirium and this is their first fic ever and it's actually not as good as they think haha

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I doooo. I haven't published any since I wrote for spn but I have a parkner pwp ready to go as soon as I muster up the nerve.

I have no idea how to interpret the question "what kind" lol uhhh the hot kind? pffft

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have but I never published them. Again, these were for spn which is hella fun to play with merging into other canon. I started but never finished spn crossovers with Firefly, The 100, The Hunger Games, Criminal Minds, Agents of Shield, and Teen Wolf. I think that's all of them. I've been thinking about putting all of my abandoned wips on AO3 for archive purposes, but idk still noodling on it. I wish there way a way I could elect to post without notifying my subscribers :/ Or at least send them a message warning them that I'm about to be incredibly annoying

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of 🙃

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!! A few now! The ultimate kudo in my opinion, and one I never expected <3

The wonderful @bluettspetal has translated An Insignificant Problem, Undercover? I thought you said under covers..., and Completely and utterly devoid of sex appeal into Russian with plans to translate more.

And Faaayeee42 on AO3 translated Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) to Mandarin Chinese.

I'm forever blown away by this.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Done some brainstorming a few times but nothing that has evolved into actually writing out a shared thing. Not sure I'd be any good at it tbh. I'd probably be a very frustrating writing partner.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Peter Parker/Harley Keener. They're good boys.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

My Infinity War time travel fix it (make it worse) fic 😔 It's got so much potential but it is perpetually at the bottom of the to-do list.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and developing relationships

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

mother fucking action sequences and like, coming up with The Plan (the evil kind and the ones to take down the evil kind)

This silly little graphic I made for You're Freaking Out where Harley mocks The Plan made by the spider dumplin gang was initially one half of my brain negging the other half about being shit at making Plans and I decided that it might as well manifest as the characters lmao

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Eh. It's fanfiction, you know? Do what you want. Experiment. Try your best to do it justice. Accept that some people are going to let their eyes blur and skim over it while others will pick it apart but most will exist somewhere in the middle. Just write what you want to write, how you want to write it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

*sigh* Harry Potter. Looking forward to my own post getting gobbled up by my block list lmao

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Goodness gracious how do I even decide? I think Peaches Ain't Pretty is my favorite. It's the fic that showed me beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can step outside of fanfiction and write whatever I want and be just as satisfied, if not more.

#tag games #20 questions #parkner

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jungle-angel · 1 year

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The House We Built: Part 3 (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: You and Miles finally have your dream home in Montana and you couldn’t have asked for better

You awoke all bleary eyed and heavy headed, so much so that you needed to splash your face with cold water. You looked at the digital clock on the endtable on Miles’s side of the bed.....2am. It was still dark out, but everybody was already up and moving about, including your husband. Though the air conditioning was going at full blast, it didn’t do much to banish the humidity.

Miles came in a minute later, turning on the faucet in the bathroom sink that was already slick with water droplets from the humidity. “Today’s the day sweetheart,” he yawned, splashing his face and the back of his neck with freezing cold water.

“You wanna get Benny up or should I?” you asked.

“I’ll get him in a minute,” Miles mumbled sleepily. “Let me switch into a fresh set of clothes first.”

Miles threw on a fresh pair of dark washed jeans and a white button-down shirt along with his shoes. Not in a long time had he woken up at two in the morning to see the stars lingering over the hotel grounds. Usually it was after a nightmare, but ever since you and him had gotten married, the nightmares had faded away to almost nothing. Even when Benny had been born, Miles hadn’t woken up that often, unless it was to help feed him. It all felt so strange, but a good kind of strange.

Miles switched on the light on the bedstand before carefully lifting Benny out of his crib, blanket and all. His stuffed puppy was still clutched in his little hand, his tufts of blonde hair clinging to his forehead as he sleepily sucked on his little blue pacifier.

“So sleepy aren’t you?” Miles murmured softly as he rubbed little circles on Benny’s back and littered his cheek with sweet little kisses. “Yeah you’ll sleep good on the road.”

Miles couldn’t help but smile as Benny’s sleepy little coos were the only thing to be heard in the room. He looked around at the quarters you had shared for the last six years, all those memories still lingering in the back of his mind. Sure you would be back when the need arose, but the new memories you would build at your new home were sure to be your best yet.

Miles’s gaze soon met yours when you emerged from the bathroom in your favorite, filmy lilac colored summer dress. “Is he still asleep?” you asked him.

“He probably will be for the next few hours,’ Miles answered. “You ready (y/n)?”

You nodded as a few happy tears came to your eyes as Miles drew you in for a hug, kissing your cheek. A knock at the door caught your attention when you found Otis and Kathy both standing in the doorway with the last of your luggage waiting in the hallway.

“Time to go,” Miles sighed with a nod.

Otis took Benny from Miles along with Benny’s floppy little stuffed puppy while you and Kathy helped load a few things onto a luggage cart while the bellboy took it down to the hotel lobby. George and his wife were waiting to bid you both farewell along with a few others.

“Ya’ll have a safe trip up north, you hear?” George said firmly.

“We will George,” Miles answered. “And again, thank you. We’ll be back again, hopefully when Ronnie comes back stateside.”

“Here’s hoping,” George said, thinking of his son Ronnie and his wife Trinh who were overseas.

You, Miles and your in-laws bid farewell to George and Ellen, hoping that they would be alright running the hotel while you were in Montana. It was hardest saying goodbye to Dan, the head of the kitchen who had become close with Otis and Chase, the hippie groundskeeper, and his family who had become close with you and Miles.

“You guys drive safe,” Chase told Miles. “We’ll keep you up on what’s going on here.”

“We will Chase,” Miles answered. “Hopefully soon we’ll be back so Benny and Arlo can run around and play with each other.”

It wasn’t long before you were all loaded up in the car with Benny safely in his little carseat between Otis and Kathy, still asleep and clutching his puppy like his life depended on it.

Miles sighed a little as the hotel pulled away into the distance, closing his eyes sadly before he felt your gentle hand squeezing his own. Out onto the road you went, the pines slowly turning into highway and before the sun was up, you were already in Nevada, heading north and inching your way closer to Montana.

Benny finally woke up about halfway through Nevada when you all stopped for a break. You had forgotten how fucking hot it was in Nevada, much hotter than California. After having eaten lunch and loaded up again, you were all back on the road, this time with Otis and Kathy taking over the driving. The whole way up into Idaho, you were listening to one of Miles’s mixtapes, singing along to the tracks as they came, “Hush” by Deep Purple, “Gimme Some Lovin” by the Spencer Davis Group, “Layla” by Derek and the Dominos and so many others that even Otis found himself singing along to.

At last Idaho had turned into Montana and by three in the afternoon you had made it to the land that Miles and Otis had purchased. It was absolutely beautiful, flat with long, wispy grasses while the snow capped mountains had rose like spikes on the back of a great beast to brush the skies. The farmhouse had come with a large red barn that was a little run down and a rail-fence paddock that needed repairs.

Over the hill was yours and Miles’s place, a beautiful little cottage that was like something out of a fairy tale. The rickety fence with a little gate surrounded the house while an overgrown plethora of flowers and bushes seemed to fill the garden. A bit of a ways down was a pond underneath a shady tree where a family of ducks seemed to be enjoying themselves, but you and Miles decided to get a look at the inside of your new home.

Through the front door you went with a tired Benny in your arms. The inside of the house was dusty and old, a little cobwebby but full of sunlight and a homey feel that put you both at ease.

“What do you think (y/n)?” Miles asked. “Think we’re gonna be able to make our little nest here?”

“Oh yes,” you smiled, giving him a kiss on the lips.

“It’s not the fanciest place in the world but.....”

“Miles, it’s perfect,” you assured him.

You were both too exhausted to do any work, but you and Miles both knew that with time, it would be your perfect home.

#bad times at the el royale #miles miller #miles miller x reader

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nikmikaelsonswife · 2 years

Text

boyfriend!eddie shaving your bikini line

warnings: 18+ content, a little smut, sexual themes, strong language, fluff

a/n: first eddie post!! something short and sweet. i fucking love this man. hope you enjoy <3.

“dammit, eddie.”

“did i hurt you?” the cool blade of the razor pressed into your skin, stuck in place as he assessed your face for any sign of discomfort.

you quickly shook your head, but let out a small shriek when he moved his fingers.

“what is it, baby?” concern swirled around in his dark irises, “you gotta let me know. don’t wanna hurt you.”

“your rings,” you forced out through clenched teeth, “fuckin freezin’.”

it was a quarter after 2am. you had one foot on the top of the side of your bathtub, the other flat on the fuzzy baby pink rug covering your tiled bathroom floor. his shirt was rolled up beneath your breasts, your bottom half bare—as you normally slept in nothing else than one article of clothing, if anything at all—and on complete display for eddie, every nook, cranny and fold in his line of sight.

this was the most intimate you’d ever been with him. while it wasn’t the first time he’d been between your thighs, he’d never stared directly at your sex, not for longer than ten seconds.

when he first brought up the idea to you as a hesitant question, assuring you that his feelings wouldn’t be hurt if you weren’t comfortable with it, you’d admittedly felt a little insecure.

you weren’t the most confident in your body but you loved it all the same, but the thought of him seeing every little thing when you didn’t even stare at your own intimacy for that long, it was scary.

but it was eddie. your beautiful boyfriend of two years eddie who you trusted with everything and then some. who made you feel as comfortable as your childhood home. who never failed to show overwhelming adoration for every new part of you he discovered.

who, despite his control issues, was always gentle unless you requested otherwise.

so you let him, was more than happy to, probably more excited than he was. always excited to have his hands on you.

but you should’ve known he was gonna pull some shit like this.

he’d chuckled from his spot, on his knees in front of you, crows feet making a short appearance with his soft smile, entire face brightening and dark irises twinkling. it was like the whole world got happier when he smiled…everything got lighter and easier.

maybe it did, maybe eddie munson was the key to universal happiness. after all, he was the key to yours.

“thought you liked my rings, especially right,” he slid his index finger down the top of your pussy a little before pressing the cool metal of his ring right against your clit, “here.”

your hips jutted at the contact, an even louder yelp cracking from your throat as it sent sparks throughout your pelvis, the cold melting into a warmth that was the beginning of a throb in your core.

“eddie,” you moaned, gently rocking your hips against his finger, so gentle you didn’t even realize you were doing it, “you promised.”

“no funny business, right,” he repeated your words from earlier before he’d wrapped his pinky around yours and kissed it, nodding before he moved his hand away to your dismay.

you knew he was aware of what he was doing, aware of the tingle deep in your core. he did shit like this all the time—gave you taste then took it all away.

a sudden yawn cracked your mouth wide open, your fingers slipping through his soft, crimped bangs and onto his scalp. “mm,” he groaned quietly, eyelids fluttering a tad before he blinked, eyes zeroed in on his task.

then you gave his hair a rough tug from the root and he hissed, nearly cutting you as the razor quickly swiped upward, scratching your skin.

you both cursed, you ducking down to check your skin for cuts as eddie let out a loud, “ouchie!” then he started whining. “what was that for?”

“you started it!”

“did not!”

“did to.”

“did not!”

“did to!”

“didn’t!”

you huffed, acknowledging the fact that this man was even more stubborn and childish than you were. that’s what you got for falling for a toddler in a twenty year old’s body.

when you tried to snatch the razor out of his hand, he swiftly moved it away just in time. “no,” his tone stern but whiny, “my toy.”

“eddieeeuhhhh.”

“okayyyyuhhhh.” he could tell you were losing your patience from the way your thigh began to shake in his face and the uhhh. he most certainly believed you were way more of a child than he was.

he lightly smacked the thigh that was trembling with nerves, “still, baby.”

he ended up guiding your hand to his bare shoulder when he noticed how you began to sway a little, fingers ice cold against his warm skin, but he didn’t flinch. “tired?”

“mmmmhm,” another yawn followed, emphasizing just how close you were to passing out.

“almost done…” he trailed off, pink tongue flickering from between his teeth and across his lips, and you flipped his bang up to see if those focused forehead lines were there. you lazily grinned at the sight of them. you loved all his little wrinkles.

loved how concentrated he was. loved how attentive he was. loved how stupidly dorky he was in everything he did, even shaving your intimate areas. loved everything him. loved eddie.

suddenly, warm lips pressed against your lower abdomen, right underneath your bellybutton, rings chilly against your waist as he held you with both hands. his bangs tickled as they brushed against your skin, goosebumps pricking through the surface of your epidermis and pussy tingling at the gesture. and the fact that he was so close to yet so far from where you wanted his mouth the most.

“you’re so pretty, my baby.”

pussy tingling indeed. heart swelling and body swaying.

he then leaned over from his spot, lean body stretching as he picked up the handheld mirror from the toilet seat, flashing you the reflection of your own intimacy as if you couldn’t look down and see it, presenting his work as if he was a world renowned artist. energy electric and playful, sparking around him, with his brows high and boyish grin wide, as if the soft moment from not even minutes before had never happened.

you were used to it, the quick and dramatic changes in his behavior. you loved it, loved how he kept you on your toes.

“how’s that for failing art twice??”

he’d managed to shave it down enough to where it wouldn’t be seen above your bikini, and the hair that used to be in the area where your sex and thighs met was gone.

“it’s perfect.”

the shave job itself could’ve used some work, the edges of where your hair began a tad uneven, but you could tell eddie had tried his best.

“really?” he seemed almost…vulnerable.

“really.” you leaned down, pursing your lips in a wordless request. he pushed himself off the floor just enough to meet your lips in a short kiss. “this shit could beat picasso,” you joked against his mouth.

his chest shook with sexy laughter as he stood up to his full height, towering over you as he lightly grabbed your cheeks with edges of his palms. “thank you,” you whispered, dropping the hem of his shirt on your body to hold him by his sides, and it fell to cover just not enough, the bottom of your asscheeks out. you met his mouth in the middle once again, this kiss longer than the one before.

eddie moaned into your mouth, lips warm and pillow soft against your own, but before it could get any farther, you pulled away.

he whined, “y/nnnn.”

“it’s lateeee.”

“come backkk.”

you tried to step away but he took a hold of your forearm, pulling you close so that your chest bumped against his own.

“‘m tired.”

“i know, baby,” he kissed your lips again, “lemme put you to sleep.”

#this is a wee bit scaryy #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4

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unnecessarilydeep · 11 months

Text

a play by the same name

written july 11, 2023

Does it matter that I’m in a car instead of a bus if I’m still just crashing? There’s blood on my face, on my hands, I loved you and I worried we were going to crash the entire time. Found myself in PDF files and walks without shoes on, 10 over the limit at 2am wondering how, and why now, and does it have to end. You tell me I’ll get through it, and everything about you makes me want to cry.

We walk home together in the dark, and if we’d had a before it would look like that. (But there is no before, for all the time we grew up together I still was facing the back of your head. This is the first time in our lives we’ve been side by side.) Our before is the precursor to violence. A threat that never was (and you still say that you’re afraid of me).

You drive me home in the dark, and I ask if I really need to go home, and you don’t care so we go anywhere else. Talk about anything and everything and I turn my phone off and forget that I need to exist outside of the car. I can breathe, on the freeway at quarter past midnight.

It’s still dark and I’m calling lights up on you on stage, and maybe that’s where it started. I walk into that theatre and they know my name, but he still looks at me like he doesn’t know what my next move will be, and sometimes you look at me like that too. Like you’re still seeing the kid I was, like that’s how you’ll remember me. Jokes about quitting turned into not quite jokes, and I remember that I didn’t know how to make you stay. In the end I had nothing to do with it.

You’re in front of me, and I’m holding hands with your girlfriend and she’s important to me too. She sat with me and walked with me and she didn’t change like I did from when I knew her. I have a before with her that I don’t have with you. We take our shoes off and I tell her I don’t quite feel real and she tells me it won’t last forever. She’s in the car with us and we’re at the end of a pier together, all holding hands. We’re sitting on the beach, all leaning on eachother. We’re in her house, knocked over like dominoes.

It’s easier to pick yourself back up when someone else can see the picture you make. It’s easier to put myself in your hands, in your car, and focus on breathing, focus on squeezing her hand, 1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2. Three of us in a car, on a dock, in a park, on a freeway. It’s the second time I’ve felt like a teenager in my whole life. I feel like I am 17 finally, after years of being in my 20s. Time is crawling by and if it moved faster I fear I’d break beyond repair.

I go home to my half empty house of closed doors and expectations, and it’s late and they don’t ask where I was (they know I’ll lie anyways) and I tell my mother that I’m anxious, but she’s only been good at taking care of me when I’m taking care of myself. I sit with her and nothing changes. I live with her and nothing changes. She asks when I'll be back, and I look at her and I say “mom.” and she says “okay” and I know I am not making it easier for her. In my dreams, her best friend tells me that they deserve it for what they put me through.

My shadow and yours on the pavement down the road I walked four times each day. The streetlights bend towards me, and I need to make sure that I’m still here. It hurts, in a muted sort of numb-feel-nothing way. It’s only the rest of my life ahead of me. We stop at my driveway, red light ominous behind us and you tell me it’ll be okay, and ask me not to text you once I’m inside. Everyday I might never see you again, that’s what this means. We’re all freed from this town, and I’m certainly not sticking around. I wish you were. I wish I hadn’t started this now. I wish I had time to explain what I mean.

If I could write us an ending I would still be sitting in your car. I’d be sitting in your car at a stoplight, and I’d look over at you and tell you I love you, I can’t stand you, I’ll miss you, I love you. In my version we still don’t get a happy ending. The car hits us headon and only one of us survives.

When you’ve been waiting for one moment, for 13 years, and you expect it to happen in one day and it instead happens over the course of several months, what does that make you? A liar? The perfect vibrant painting of the woods you hung over your window to a parkinglot. You’ve ripped through it now, too eager to see the stars from the roof one last time. To look over your shoulder like a thief, in the red light of your window. Remember the sunrises? Remember the years spent here? It will stop meaning anything soon.

Todays still just a mondaytuesdaywednesday. Tomorrows still just a thursdayfridaysaturday. Sunday doesn’t exist. Unless you text me about it.

I’ve been feeling a lot like I’m 12 again. Brand new in a world that hurts. Hiding, packing for a half-baked plan. Waking up to empty houses and notifications from everyone except you. I drove past your house, and your car was there. I drove past the house that used to be mine, and I didn’t stop but I wanted to. I drove past the house I grew up in and flinched.

I take in every moment like a polaroid camera. One second and then it’s gone. Everyday feels like years ago, time stretches behind me, and I can’t see the future at all. You remind me I’m real, and I punch you on the walk home to confirm it. Otherwise the shadows look like me by myself, in the dead of May.

I can’t see the ending. It’s a car crash, and the lights go down. It’s another car crash. They’re all car crashes. It’s you, it’s me, it’s both of us and neither of us all at once. Violence and a single moment, and then pain that stretches like the past ahead of me. I’m sitting at an intersection and I want to tell you that I love you, but I don’t know who I am. I wonder if you know anyways. (I call a standby. There’s another car crash).

Days that pass fade without you, I wake up in the middle of the night behind the wheel.

#writers and poets #poetry #spilled ink #long post #writers on tumblr #yearning #queerplatonic #tw car crash #cipher writes

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thedaveandkimmershow · 2 years

Text

Yes, we've celebrated the Fourth in all kinds of ways. From fireworks on the street at my parents house to fireworks at the homes of family friends to spending it with my own friends at a cabin on one of the islands with a stash of M-80s.

And variations on all of that.

On at least one occasion my mom, dad, and I drove over to Queen Ann Hill before a fireworks show on the Space Needle and staked out a spot at Kinnear Park.

We stood there for hours until the fireworks blew.

Even now I'm not sure if that was a good bargain.

Bean bag chairs definitely woulda helped.

After we were married, the Fourth was characterized by huge backyard parties at the home of Kimmer's parents complete with red, white, and blue party decorations.

Later still it was barbecues on the patio at the building where my parents live.

Even later still it was whatever we figured out with the two of us, Linzy, and our friend, Susan.

Of course after Linzy moved out of the house, her participation was contingent on plans she had with her own friends. Which is how things worked when I was her age.

And so on.

Yesterday, we actually started the day as the three of us. Linzy came over in the morning at ten thirty and we hung out at Cafe Umbria in South Lake for hot drinks. Afterward we hit Trader Joe's in Ballard to pick up fixins for a picnic. Then we drove over to that parking garage between The Expedia Group and the Magnolia Bridge and walked over to what Google Maps calls The Beach At Expedia Group. The beach faces Pier 90 and, while we were there, The Royal Caribbean's Quantum of the Sea cruise liner was also there.

It's huge, by the way.

Huuuuuuuge.

They were in the process of boarding with an eye toward pulling away from the pier at 4.

Now, The Beach At Expedia Group features a kind of terrace that's shaped by low cement walls. Kimmer climbed a bit and found us a corner at the top of the terrace to use as a bench for the three of us. Which worked out just fine.

I don't remember feeling tired... but I sure look it. I was up 'til 2AM a few nights ago and I'm still recovering. 🙁

However.

Being outdoors. Picnic-ing. In lovely weather that would soon break out into a straight up sunny day... yeah.

That's definitely a road to my recovery. 😊

By around two in the afternoon we've got Linzy dropped off at her place and now we're headed north because there's a bunch of preparing to do for a quick camping trip we're setting out on, well... today, actually.

So yesterday we hit GoodWill in Shoreline then move our way up to the Lynnwood Dollar Tree, Trader Joe's, and Spouts. Then north further still to that new Dollar Tree, then Value Village and the Neighborhood Walmart.

By the time we're done, we're pretty stocked with food and supplies for our trip. And this:

Kimmer finally has the pieces she needs to temporarily turn our minivan into a smaller version of the Escape Campervan we rented for our National Parks adventure. So now we've got an actual double bed with plenty of storage underneath... and we have the kitchen setup we had before at the back of the van but without the pull-out refrigerator.

After Kimmer finishes the van conversion, we celebrate with a coupla vanilla ice cream cones at McDonald's... then head back for the fireworks extravaganza over Lake Union that starts at quarter past ten and lasts twenty-five minutes.

By the time it's over, there's a mass of smoke hovering above the lake, drifting toward downtown.

Before the show, I'd talked with my dad to wish he and mom a happy Fourth and he reminded me that there haven't been fireworks over the lake for the last two years. Which I kind of forgot.

What I won't forget about this Fourth and the Lake, though, is that after turning off all the lights in our place, I turned on that Pink Floyd classic album, Dark Side of the Moon to provide the soundtrack for the show.

And maybe it's because once upon a time we'd experienced Laser Floyd at the Pacific Science Center, but...

It was perfect!

And that was our Fourth this time around.

😊

#fourth of july #independence day #family #picnic #hanging out #ice cream #fireworks #lake union #campervan #minivan conversion #good times

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

soft boyfriend KIRISHIMAAAAAAAAAA YAAAAS just DO IT! you KNow you cAn! DO IT! just DO IT!

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU ! boyfriend headcannons

this turned into a trend

TIP-JAR

goodiebag warnings: slight misogyny ig, manliness

EARLY STAGES OF THE RELATIONSHIP

He was an overenthusiastic klutz on all your first encounters.

Not so much out of nerves... but rather because he was so jacked up with wholehearted eagerness, to the point he acted like a complete clumsy fool every time he was around you.

But it wasn't as though he was awkward and flustered.

He was more... uhm... kind of overbearing and INTENSE.

Just very obviously interested in you.

Which was sweet in its own way...

Where most guys try acting cool, Kirishima fell flat on his face only to jump right back up again.

He'd squeeze your hand too hard, ask way too many intimate questions, talking like he'd never spoken to another person before.

He was like a dog, a BIG dog, whipping his tail about and knocking things over.

You couldn't help but smile and laugh at his big goofy grin.

Being both amused and flattered.

After the two of you became a couple you asked him what made him fall in love with you and he instantly said that it was your smile.

Before face-palming himself and saying it was nothing as superficial as that.

"It was your laugh. No! Your- uhm- your..."

You just giggled at him where his face had gone from wistfully thinking about the time the two of you first met to stressing out that he'd completely fucked everything up because he couldn't name a single thing that wasn't along the lines of "you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen".

And it's the truth.

He's absolutely smitten with everything that you are.

And completely mesmerised by how soft your skin is.

Where his is rough and tough even without his quirk activated, yours is smooth like velvet.

He's obsessed with stroking your cheek.

What more...

He's also creepily fascinated by how tender your flesh is.

And adores your chunky areas.

Thighs and ass are his two favourite places.

He'll grab and poke and touch and feel you up like putty between his hands for hours.

Grabbing handfuls of your fat, squeezing on it, pinching and prodding and poking.

Playing with it as though it's the most fun he's had since playdough in kindergarten.

Muttering about how his skin is all stiff and tough and yours is plush like a pillow.

Perfect for napping on.

He also loves playing with your hair.

He'll touch and pull on it, run his fingers through it, card and rake, trying to braid but failing miserably though happy nonetheless.

He's not too gentle in this manner either.

He's more like a toddler.

Like he's expecting something more to happen other than you wincing once he tugs too much and rips a couple strands from their root.

You'll shoo his hands away, but they always seem to absentmindedly wander back to your strands to twist the locks around his fingers.

And speaking of hair...

He loves it when you help him touch his up.

Whether you're simply keeping him company while he's dying it or you dying it for him.

Or when you style his spikes and little horns with hair gel.

He worships you.

Offering to help you left and right.

Pushy to a degree it's almost like he's nagging you.

Where he can come off as slightly misogynistic half the time.

Though he never means to offend you in any way.

It's just... that bag looks heavy and he doesn't work-out everyday for nothing.

And with all that muscle comes a hefty appetite.

You're convinced Kirishima's stomach is bottomless.

Meaning both that he's constantly hungry and that when he sits down to eat, he will EAT.

The guy needs at least three tiny meals between meals.

He drags you on way too many 2AM grocery store runs.

Always buying a ton of snacks. An entire grocery-bag's worth.

And never something he's bought before, only constantly new things.

He spends a good quarter hour in the candy aisle just to browse for things he has yet to try.

He'll hand you half before stuffing his own face.

Wanting to discuss taste and texture with you and to compare it with past snacks the two of you've tried before.

Where you have the suspicion that he strangely finds it even more fun if you end up not enjoying the flavour.

He's not too romantic in the traditional sense, but more goofy.

He loves spending time with you though.

So even when he's not the most romantic person, dates are still FREQUENT.

Almost exhausting actually.

Never anything chill.

Always something that makes the heart race. - Horror movies and action thrillers in the cinema - Amusement-parks, both the water and rollercoaster kind. - Beach-days. He definitely brings a volleyball. - Mountain hikes and camping.

He's definitely down to chill at the end of a day though.

Where the conversation runs like fluid.

He's not a man shy of talking.

Where he'll even call you multiple times a day, just to ask you what you're up to and the works, and also to share anecdotes about his day and how he's feeling.

Always letting you know if something you said, did or wears makes him feel a certain way.

No matter that feeling be happy, horny, insecure, upset or angry.

He lets you hear it.

On top of that, he's also an intense listener.

Honestly, being just an overall amazing communicator.

Always EYE-CONTACT with you when you talk to him, or hums of acknowledgment when speaking through the phone.

He always gets himself so vividly immersed in whatever story you're telling.

To the point where if you says you dislike someone at school or at work, Kirishima will dislike that person with a vengeance too.

The same goes for if you say you like someone, he as well will approve of them.

He drives Bakugou mad with all his little comments.

Every time they pass something you've mentioned, Kirishima will always state it. - Pebble likes this coffeeshop. - Pebble bought a bikini here once. - Pebble thinks you're cool Bakubro. - Pebble this, Pebble that, Pebble etc...

What can he say other than that he's a passionate guy?

Often loud and rowdy.

But strangely enough, he rarely uses crude curse-words.

He'll of course let the occasional one slip when the situation really calls for it.

But considering he's spent almost every single day of his life with Bakugou for the past years, you have to give him credit for not being further influenced by the rude blond's potty-mouth.

Eijiro will instead use those corny substitute curse-words, such as: - Fudge. - Fiddlesticks! - Aww shucks... - Oh crud. - Shoot. - What the heck? - Geez man.

Sometimes, when he gets upset with someone. Most of the time, Bakugou. He'll call him a turd and walk away thinking he's made his point.

You couldn't stop laughing that one time where Bakugou, in the midst of losing in a video-game to you, yelled fiddlesticks instead of fuck.

The blonde going completely red in embarrassment before turning demon-eyed as he tackled Kirishima to the floor and cursed him for feeding him those moronic passive-aggressive terms.

Keeping him pinned to the floor whilst the red-head could only laugh at his friend's silly rage as the blond kept trying to make him say a curse-word so that they'd be even.

SOMETIME INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

Living with Kirishima...

It's like you already have kids.

He's a hopeless dresser.

Seriously.

No sense for fashion whatsoever.

Brown cargo-shorts, horizontal stripes and military and animal prints.

He's not too opposed to you dressing him though.

As long as what you pick out for him is comfortable to wear and not too flashy and "feminine".

He wants to look a certain way, but he's not too good at communicating what that way is, where the only keyword he'll ever give you is manly.

Which is no help at all because the range of things that appear as manly to Kirishima is vast and have visually no correlation whatsoever. - Bakugou's gardening habits and his seemingly naturally domestic place in the kitchen is manly. - Kaminari wearing chokers is manly. - Scars are manly. - The way you can bear to walk in those heals is manly.

But put him in an exclusive floral-shirt and he'll scratch the back of his neck unsurely before telling you it's not exactly his style.

Also, the crocs never go away.

He's also messy...

He'll shower daily and brush his teeth twice a day.

But dirty laundry and dirty dishes and shoes cluttering in the mudroom and worn boxers left in the bathroom and socks absolutely everywhere, never in pairs, is a much too common sight.

And he never learns to turn the TV and lights off.

There's constantly candy wrappers left everywhere in the house.

And bandages and those cutesy childish kid band-aids that he always buys for some reason.

You'll put them over the minor cuts he has, but the silly things always fall off so easily.

Nor is he a very good cook either.

He's sweet tough...

Trying to make dinner when you work late or surprising you with breakfast in bed.

But...

Eggshells, too much seasoning, unknown ingredients.

In bed.

He has those jump-scare worthy sudden random loud snores when he's asleep.

But other than that...

He's gentle, passionate and rough all at the same time.

He'll growl and moan and whimper and whine and pant like a dog in heat as he touches and kisses you all over.

Body-worshipper to a T.

Thirsty to gorge himself. Wants to bury his face between your thighs and lap until pussy-drunk.

He's also a sucker for kisses on his chest.

Warm or cool, preferably wet, pecks of your soft lips against his tough and swelled chest.

Kissing his scars makes him whimper.

He also likes nipple-kisses. Especially if you nibble a bit on him.

Even outside of bed, he has zero reservations when it comes to intimacy.

HANDS-ON at all times.

Even when he's sweaty, even when he's grimy with dirt and mud.

He wants his welcome-home kisses and hugs.

No discussion.

He doesn't really care if you're busy.

Mostly because he doesn't quite recognise that you're ever busy.

He believes he has respect for your little hobbies and your job...

Though he constantly expresses his thoughts of how he doesn't see why you even need a job when he can easily provide for you both.

You should always have time for a quickie, right?

If he has the time, you have the time, in his mind.

So he'll pull you from your computer or kiss at your neck and beg you to hang up the phone with your supervisor.

Yeah, sorry... he doesn't really respect your job.

He has a habit of lightly biting you at random on your shoulders, neck, thighs, stomach and whatever the moment calls for.

And he absolutely must play paddy-cake with your ass at least once a day.

He just loves resting his head on your lap and chest.

He'll instantly fall asleep into an open-mouthed drooling mess if your start playing with his hair.

You can't ever finish a movie.

The two of you regularly sleep on the couch instead of upstairs in the bedroom.

He HATES showering without you.

It feels wrong how boring it is.

He hates having to shampoo his own hair and how he can't reach his back and how he doesn't have your thighs wrapped around his torso.

He loves you in anything red.

Rep lipstick, red lingerie, red hoodie, red stockings.

It's his weakness.

He can be having a really bad day, but just one look at you in anything red and he'll immediately lighten up.

It could be a simple thing like a red scrunchy in your hair or around your wrist and he'll perk up with a smile at once.

He can be mad at you, but all you need do is slip on something red and he'll fold almost instantly.

You don't ever worry about Kirishima not thinking you're pretty or gorgeous or hot or cute or this or that or anything.

He makes it all rather obvious.

Still now, after the two of you are well beyond the point of new-love and the honeymoon-phase.

Kiri will still be showering you with words and actions of affection and adoration.

His straightforward pining still going strong.

He's the KING of "I know you're asleep, but..." speeches.

Be it when you're asleep in his arms or on voicemail when he's working late nights or early mornings.

He'll recite paragraph after paragraph of absolute word-vomit about his love for you.

Just NEEDING to let you know each time the thought crosses his mind.

He won't ever show you that he's mad at you.

When you've done something that's upset him, he'll simply tell you.

But never angrily.

Which can be slightly irking...

Sometimes you wish he'd just yell at you.

But he never does.

Even when you raise your voice at him.

Kirishima takes you seriously and apologises sincerely when he's upset you for whatever reason, and never deems you the curtesy of fighting with you.

You thought at first it was because he thought it would be ridiculous of him, big man that he is, to fight a little lady like you.

But when you confronted him with that theory he couldn't stop laughing.

Turns out, he just doesn't like or see the point in verbal fighting.

And after that you started noticing how he reacts that way with everyone.

Even Bakugou, who could shatter glass with all his shouting. Kirishima just laughs his little hissy-fits right off.

You swear, he must be the most calm and happy-go-lucky guy in the world. - He never bitches about people. - Never holds a grudge. - Never picks fights he doesn't have to. - Always admits he's wrong when he is.

He's constantly doing gentlemanly gestures as though it's a ritual.

It's just his way of life. - Opening doors, every door, car-doors too. - Pulls out your chair and pushed you back in. - Drapes his coat over you when it's cold. He doesn't even ask. - Gives you most of the umbrella when it's raining. - Takes the side closest to the street when the two of you walk on the curb.

But gentlemanly acts aren't just reserved for you.

They're for EVERYONE. - Assists that old women cross the street. - Gives that old man or pregnant lady his seat on the train. - Joins the search party for that missing child. - Helps people up when they fall and then proceeds to collect their things from the ground. - Helps that little girl find her mommy in the grocery store. - Volunteers for about any and all charity work.

If you're being honest, his sense for heroics and need to be helpful is a bit overwhelming at times.

Almost makes you feel like a bad person.

Sometimes you wish he'd be more selfish like everyone else.

But then at the same time, it's what you love about him.

And besides being a gentleman, he's also the most loyal and caring friend anyone could ask for. - He's the first to ask you how your interview went or that presentation you had to have in front of your boss. - He always calls Bakugou, Denki, Sero and Mina to ask if they got home safely after a night out. - When you come home from out shopping with friends, he's at once demanding you give him a runway show. - Each time he knows one of his or your friends are home alone by themselves since their spouse has gone on a business trip or something of the sorts, he's always inviting them over for dinner. - And when a friend of either one of you is going through a break-up, he's inviting them to stay with you so that they don't have to be alone.

Which is nice and all...

If the guest-house hadn't been refurbished to be a fully-decked out gym instead.

It doesn't exactly leave too much space to house guests other than the living-room coach.

But he needed space for the boxing-ring...

Him and Bakugou spend hours out there, while you and mrs. Bakugou sip whine and talk about how strange life married to two top-heroes is.

You see the couple a lot since Kirishima and Bakugou are co-CEOs at their Hero Agency, as well as still being best mates.

Kirishima asks you to train with him too though.

And where he won't make you train with him, just the same as he won't make you do anything ever...

He will playfully guilt-trip you to.

A thousand pretty-pleas and pouts and puppy-dog eyes until you fold.

Just because he loves you and doesn't want to spend a single second without you.

TIP-JAR

BAKUGOU, TODOROKI

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deceitful-darlings · 2 years

Note

i know you’re tired of the evil au but could i interest you in another au?

so basically how about the phantom of the opera au? after thinking for it a bit i think the best characters for this au would be Idia and (honestly any first year would be fine for this but just for this i’ll use Deuce). the reason i chose Idia (when i think Vil or maybe even Azul would work well with this) is because of Idia’s insecurity issues and how Erik also has insecurity issues (especially because of his deformities and that being the reason why he wears the mask; but with insecurity issues being mostly the reason why i chose idia i feel like any other twst character would work well because of that reason but we’ll go with Idia for now)

With Deuce visiting his parents (and his parents being patrons of the opera house they of course go to a show) where they see reader singing so beautifully, reigniting Deuce’s childhood crush for her, he goes to visit her in her dressing room but hears her talking to another male voice. of course she denies having any other male in her room but Deuce knows what he heard. meanwhile Idia makes demands to the manager (Crowley) of the opera house to have reader sing the lead role and have the 5th balcony seating empty for the phantoms use but Crowley ignores the demands thinking it only to be a prank resulting in the original main singer croaking and the chandelier dropping onto the audience, killing a spectator. Reader is abducted from her dressing room and “the phantom” reveals himself as Idia.

(i do not know how to continue this sadly. but i’d love your input with this)

Ok, but I love this idea?

Now, for the original premise of The Phantom of the Opera, where Eric was born with his deformities (please help me find a better word, I really don’t like using deformities to describe conditions people are born with, but it was 2am and I can’t think), Idia certain fits the bill better, his otaku personality focused on the opera, the characters, having memorised the scripts of by heart, obsessing over actors and playwrights alike, his life consumed by these performances to distract from his own loneliness. Despite being the older son, due to his deformities, his younger brother is the one who takes over the family business, Ortho is one of the few people who treats him likes he’s human, and he’s determined to make it so his big brother can live as happy a life as he can give him, starting with the mask that covers his face.

Not taking over the company gives him all the time in the world to focus on the opera, but unlike Eric he isn’t skilled at singing, he cares far more about being able to listen to the singing of the amazing actors, basically setting up his living quarters in the tunnels and aqueduct that run under the opera house to spend as much time getting to know their schedules and their most intimate thoughts, he invests every waking moment to them. So of course he knows the comings and goings of said actors.

He’d heard about the arrival of new talents months prior, the management had been discussing needing some more background performers for their newer works being showed. So when some new faces pop up around the theatre he isn’t surprised, some of them are ok, some are arrogant, but there isn’t anyone as grateful as you seem to be. There wasn’t anything amazing about you in comparison to the other actors, but there was just something about the awestruck expression that graced your features, the look of absolute wonderment as you walked the halls of the theatre that broke into a lovely smile when you reached your dressing room that just made him stop. Were you as loving of the opera as he was? Were you one of the ones performing out of love rather than to become famous and make money?

You quickly become his favourite, he’s your biggest fan, even when you start and your rolls are only background parts and supporting vocals. He expresses his love to the theatre as he also does, using gifts obtained from the family business from his brother, the theatre don’t ask questions, taking the technology he provides to improve their upcoming shows. These advancements soon make it so the theatre becomes one of the most modern of the era, and all he demands in return is that your role becomes larger. So that’s how you end up playing the main character in the upcoming show, and of course Idia is there to watch, but unbeknownst to him, there’s someone familiar in the crowd.

Now, I made Deuce the prince in the swan lake au, so I’d probably swap him out in that for another character because Deuce fits the crushing childhood friend roll better than, say, Silver, but whoever ends up as your friend, he either bought or won the ticket to the show, and upon seeing you on stage they remember your shared childhood , extremely proud that you’ve managed to achieve your dreams. He goes to congratulate you after the show only to hear you talking with someone.

Whereas for the few versions where he was written as being the victim of an acid attack, I think Vil suits it more. A rising star of the opera scene who was attacked because of envy, hatred, or revenge since these stories love their family feuds, as someone who was so obsessed with perfection he can’t help but hate his face now and no longer performs. But thanks to his father’s influence, he can at least still be around the stage secretly, since he had worked there he knows the theatre, it’s secret tunnels and hidden areas like the back of his hand so he can navigate the place unseen.

He takes a new promising performer under his wing, she’s a diamond in the rough, her voice good but not reaching its full potential. It would be a travesty not to nurture it, and she listens to him, only scared for a moment when she hears his voice through the dressing room wall until she hears his comments on her performance, spoken like an expert she’s soon enraptured, taking in his words carefully and he soon becomes her teacher. She surpasses her peers quickly with his strict training, her Angel of Music guiding her firmly, never missing a performance of hers and she only ever shows him her best, it would be an insult to her teacher not to. He will accept nothing but perfection from her, and there is a level of smugness he gets from watching her that makes all the work he does secretly behind the scenes to improve the show as a whole not seem as bad.

But of course neither is happy with the arrival of Deuce Spade, the love rival that appears at the end of the first act only to be show to have long lasting connections with the female lead that the male lead will never understand, or the country bumpkin trying to make the flower he had nurtured so carefully into its first blossom wilt once more. They can’t allow it, you belong to the theatre, you belong to them.

#yandere #yandere male #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #phantom of the opera au #PotO au #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere idia shroud #phantom of the opera #idia shroud #yandere idia #deuce spade #vil schoenheit #yandere vil #anon asks #anon ideas

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kyun-toast · 3 years

Text

[ATEEZ] Mafia!San - Will You Join Me?

word count: 2.9k warnings: explicit language, gun use, violence, description of death (not explicit), sexually suggestive, gets a lil steamy summary: cupid has a bullet with your name on it a/n: Y/N a little dramatic and San annoying af. I wrote this in a two hour flash at 2am, so this might be deleted after I reread it tomorrow because I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just me chatting shit.

1. Yoon, David – 12:45 Note to self: likes donuts. probs dunkin’, maybe krispy? idk just look for a man w a paper bag.

“I’ll have to warn you though, the lift is under maintenance, so you’ll have to take the stairs.” The receptionist smiled at you sympathetically. “I can get someone to help you with your suitcase if you’d like?”

“Oh no, it’s ok, I’ll just find another place to stay. I have weak knees anyway.” You forced a laugh and hoped the lady didn’t notice the dead look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

Turning away with your suitcase in tow, you headed towards the building opposite the hotel and hoped that the rooftop would be easy enough to access.

It was quite irresponsible of you not to have a backup plan. It seemed that being named the sharpest shooter in the underground world had gotten to your head a little, but you argued that a bit of spontaneity never hurt anybody. Though your target would beg to differ.

Being a public building of offices, it was all too easy for you to reach the roof of the building. You found that walking with your held head high and gaze set straight ahead would never get you questioned. Who would ever stop someone with a walk so confident?

Thankfully, the rooftop hadn’t been turned into some garden space: an air-conditioning fan over here, a water tank over there. You checked your wristwatch reading 12:40 and muttered under your breath. The damn hotel lift had taken precious minutes of your time and compromised your view.

You opened your suitcase to set up your sniper, giving your little black cat charm on the side of your gun a squish. Cute.

Sitting on the case with your stock snug against your shoulder, you peered into the scope to get a closer view of the revolving doors to the bank. Oh great, there’s a lamppost in the way.

Mr. Yoon was apparently quite the punctual man, always seen stepping into the bank doors after his lunch break at exactly quarter to one and therefore, your window of opportunity was thin.

“I want it done today or you’re getting sniped yourself, Y/N.” You heard the voice of your boss yap in your head again. Blah blah blah, same old threat. You argued that procrastinating the man’s death was actually something very considerate of you to do.

You heard a familiar clatter of metal hit the floor and you turned your scope to the rooftop opposite to see a man in overalls with his toolbox open on the floor.

“Lift maintenance guy?” You muttered to yourself and wondered if the mechanics of elevators ran all the way through to the rooftop. You made sure that you wouldn’t be in his line of vision and swivelled back to your original position, cursing the man under your breath for ruining your first choice of setup.

12:44

“Come on, Yoon. Lunch time’s almost over.” Your finger lay restless on the trigger, itching to get a glimpse of the bank teller.

20 seconds.

“Krispy or Dunkin’ what will it be today, entertain me.”

10 seconds.

You saw the man turn the corner and waited for him to get a little closer for you to shoot.

5 seconds.

“That’s it, just past the lamppost and you won’t even know what hit y- what the FU-?” You shouted and quickly clasped a hand to your mouth. Mr. Yoon hadn’t even made it past the post, and he was already laying on the pavement in a growing pool of blood.

Calculating the angle in which he was laying, you spun your vision around to the hotel rooftop and saw the maintenance man begin to pack up a sniper back into his toolbox. Taking off his cap, you noticed a flash of white in his jet-black hair and just like he knew you were watching, he turned with a smug grin on his face and shot you some finger guns.

“Oh, you little fucker.” You spat, and watched the man jump down into a hatch to disappear.

You slumped dramatically onto the floor and splayed your limbs to stare blankly at the sky. Never in your life had you ever missed a shot, let alone have it stolen by someone else, and your boss had your phone ringing to rub it in your face.

“That wasn’t you, was it?”

“Listen, what if? You know, what if that was my thirteenth reason? I just couldn’t take it anymore and that was it. No more Y/N. You wouldn’t even come to my funeral, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t because you’d be too broke to have one. You realise you’re not getting paid for this?”

“Why? He’s still dead?” You sat up in disbelief.

“Well, it turns out someone else wanted him gone too. I can’t lie to our client and say that we did it.”

“You’re oddly moral for someone that runs a hotline for hitmen.”

“I’ll call you if I find you another job.”

“Justice for freelance contract killers.” You muttered weakly as he ended the call. The faint sound of police sirens filled the air as you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the concrete.

You pictured the man and wondered who it was that would even think to render the notorious Y/N L/N jobless. Though you did have to admit that it was a clean shot.

“Skunk-hair looking ass.”

2. Kim, Seungho – 18:00 Note to self: babysitting. easy target but kid knows NOTHING.

You were stationed by a corner window in an unfinished apartment building with a trainee by your side, setting up his kit.

Stood by the trainee, you scanned to see if everything was in the right place, checking the kid’s posture too. You had been sent by your boss to reluctantly train a young recruit and you joked if you had been demoted following your last predicament. You were never in it for the money though, you lived for the adrenaline.

The boy had potential and you saw it, he just needed to make cleaner shots because three bullets somewhat near the target’s vital organs wasn’t going to cut it.

“What’s your name again?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.” The recruit replied, his eyes never leaving yours, in absolute awe.

“Eyes on the scope.”

“I’m sorry, nobody told me I’d be getting trained by you. The Seoul Shooter? Like wow.”

“Ew, is that what they’re calling me?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s a pretty cool name, they used to call me ‘Jitman’ in my hometown, not very creati-”

You shushed the boy and tapped his shoulder as you pointed to a small figure in the distance.

“You see him through the scope? Now keep your hand steady, never feel as if you’re being rushed. Death works to your schedule.”

“Got it.” Jisung said, following the man with his gun.

“Ok, on 3… 2… 1…”

You heard the bullet cut through the evening air and hit the target neatly through his office window.

“Bro? That was so clean? That has to be one of the sexiest shots I’ve seen in a while-” You began.

“Uhh, that wasn’t me, Y/N.”

Before you could even process what had happened, you heard the rustle of footsteps patter down the stairs behind you. Taking out your handgun, you moved towards the open door to find the same man you had seen on the hotel rooftop stop in his tracks on the landing. Clad in a fitted black sweater and jeans this time, he looked a whole lot more attractive close up.

“You again?” You exclaimed; gun still pointed at the man as he dropped his duffel bag to raise his hands.

His eyes widened, not in shock, but more with an excited glint in his eyes.

“Oh my, it’s Y/N, the Seoul Shooter.” A coy smile painted his lips as he shook his white fringe out of his eyes.

“See, everyone calls you that.” Jisung interjected from behind.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Word around town is that you’ve been unemployed for some time now,” nodding towards Han, he added, “and it looks like the rumours are true.”

“I’ve actually decided to take a break you know? Let the other kids have a chance at making a name for themselves. Bit of charity work.”

“Y/N kinda got demoted because you keep taking their shots.” Han interrupted again.

“Hey, who told you that?!” You narrowed your eyes at the boy. Han Jisung was a smart ass and you vowed then and there that you wouldn’t take on any more training sessions.

You whipped your head back around to the man eyeing your body up and down.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Unless you really wanna get shot.” You spat.

“Well, I’d die a happy man if you were the last thing I’d see.” He smirked in retaliation and studied your eyes carefully. “Well, my job here is done, I better be on my way. Got a big cheque waiting for me.” He grinned as he reached to grab his bag and carry his way on down the stairs with footsteps too light-hearted for your liking.

“Why didn’t you shoot him?” Jisung asked as you watched the man disappear into the evening.

“I don’t think killing a man for taking my shots is justified.”

“What, and sniping Mr. Kim Seungho just before he gets to feel the bliss of clocking out is?” He laughed. “Do you know what I think, Y/N?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m not going to say anything.”

Han Jisung tormented you the whole drive back to the quarters.

“Y/N and Skunk Man sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes lo-”

Smack.

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just kidding.” He laughed as an idea struck him, “K-I-D-D-I-N-”

Smack.

3. Park, Kiha - 10:32 Note to self: bad man. bad, bad man. but big, big cheque.

Having had your last two shots stolen, mystery Skunk Man was beginning to get on your nerves. You were seething to the point that you demanded your boss give you another job, itching to defend your title of being the finest shooter in Seoul.

Laying on the floor of a rooftop hangar, the man had the gall to pop up out of the hatch to set up his station right next to you, as if you were both on some picnic.

"Nice seeing you here today, Y/N." He said, sitting cross legged to mount a scope to the top of his sniper.

Not even bothering to take your eyes off the target, you muttered, "I got here first, you better back off." voice laced with venom.

"Well I've been promised a cheque too, we're all just trying to get fed around here."

Ignoring him, you glanced down at your watch that read 10:31. Any time now, Park Kiha would be walking through the glass bridge to get to his meeting in the twin building.

Steadying your finger against the trigger, you held your breath and counted down from three, two, o-

"I like your cat charm by the way."

You pulled the trigger only for it to stray a little to the right, still hitting your target, just a little less central than you would have accepted.

You shot up from your position to face the man laying on his side, head propped up against his hand to look at you.

"Do you have something against me? Do I even know you?" You exclaimed, carding your gloved hand through your hair.

"No uhh, but I saw your face on a bounty poster once and thought you were cute." He said, attitude too blasé. "That was a nice shot though, I was going to wait a few more seconds."

"So you saw my picture, and started following me around to antagonise me?"

"Nah, I just happened to be super lucky to have been put on the same cases as you. Big bad men have a lot of people after them I guess?"

Throwing your equipment back into your bag, you watched the man proceed to roll over onto his back with his arms behind his head to look up at the sky.

The mid-morning sun cast a golden glow over his skin and though you spent most of your life working with guns, his uniform and kit next to him looked a little different, almost attractive. They suited him a little too much and you thought that if a sleek sniper were to be personified, it would look exactly like this leather clad man.

"I should ask for your number, the way you're looking at me right now, Y/N."

"Good luck, you won't get it." You turned to step down the hatch as he propped himself up again to watch you leave.

Choi, San – 15:25 Note to self: he’s kinda hot tho :/

So, we had finally put a name to the face. As your boss handed you a folder, you were slightly taken aback at the small ID picture pinned to the top of the file.

“You might be a little happy about this one.” He said, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s been recently recruited by ATEEZ as their sniper. Quite a deadly one too. He was scouted shooting pheasants down in the Namhae countryside apparently.”

“Hmm, how much?” You questioned.

“A million dollars.”

“Excuse me? A mill-?” You choked on the air and composed yourself just as quick to nonchalantly lean against the filing cabinet and look out the window, “I don’t know, he didn’t look a million dollars-worth to me.”

“He hasn’t been in the game long, but man has he taken down some big names.”

Though you didn’t necessarily feel too attached to Choi San, you did think that you were going to miss him a little. It was nice having a friend on your level to spar with.

Who were you kidding? You thought he was hot and that it would be a shame to have to shoot him.

But on second thought, you had been itching for the adrenaline in the trigger again, and the million dollars looked a lot sexier to you than some man.

“I’ll take it.”

San was all too easy to find. He seemed to enjoy hiding in plain sight since no common person would recognize him in the bustling streets of Gangnam. Nestled in the corner of another rooftop, you zoned in on the recognizable black and white hair sat outside on the terrace of a café.

Once you were ready, you repositioned your finger on the trigger and focused the cross hairs on the familiar head. You were steady until San lifted his head and stared right back at you through the scope, sending you a wink.

“Shit.” You muttered, his actions throwing you off and when you repositioned your aim, he had slipped into the crowd, now lost.

“No, no, no, no, no, Choi San, ugh.” Seeing that he knew what you were up to, you got up to pace around the rooftop. Your mind worked nonstop to find an alternate solution but all you could conclude was to go home, stay low and pick another day to continue.

This man had thrown you into the worst slump of your life, but you were somewhat enjoying the chase and you hated to admit it.

The abrupt sound of a closing of a door behind you had everything clicking into place.

“You pretty motherfucker, had this planned, didn’t you?” You laughed.

Upon hearing the cocking of a gun, you turned to pull out the throwing knife strapped to your thigh and pulled his body in by his collar to reach his throat. And it just turned out that San had the same idea in pushing his handgun up underneath your chin at the same time, faces a little too close.

“I like your beret.” San said candidly, jerking his brow up at the hat on your head.

“Me, too. It’s Marine Serre.”

“Nice choice.”

“I’m going to count down from three and we’re going to drop our weapons, ok? And talk this out like adults because I for one, didn’t wanna kill you.” You bargained.

“Sure.”

“Three, two, one!” The both of you pulled away for a split second in bluff only to reposition your weapons against each other’s throats again.

“I knew it.” San smirked.

“No, for real this time. I mean it.”

“Go ahead, baby.” He smiled as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Three, two, o-”

San cut you off by leaning into your lips, placing onto them a kiss so intense, almost mirroring the violent nature of the situation. However, what surprised you more was that you let yourself melt back into him. He let his gun clatter to the floor to walk you backwards into the wall behind, hoisting your leg up around his waist.

You broke away from the kiss for air when he smiled, “I mean, it is kinda hot, but I would appreciate it if you could stop holding that knife against my throat right now, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine.” You muttered as San leaned back in to kiss you whilst roaming his hand around your thigh, ridding you of the rest of your knives and smirking against your lips in satisfaction.

Feeling his bulge grind between your legs, you both only grew more fervent for each other as you kissed.

“Wait, I wanna take you on a date first.” He pulled away to look you in the eye.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mhmm, to Bar 1117.” He hummed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that your company’s place…?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna love you.” He whispered, peppering small kisses down your throat.

“Are you trying to recruit me or fuck me, San?”

"I mean, you can kill me now and leave for that million dollars or you can come with me for a new job and that million dollar dick."

"You're unbelievable."

“I heard you were doing freelance anyway, baby.” He looked into your eyes again, a mischievous glow blooming across his face, “So, will you join me?”

disclaimer: San’s pie chart hair is one of my all time faves but I also can’t stop thinking that it looks a little skunk-like. In the cutest way. a/n: I've edited this a lot since I posted it and I think I'm gonna keep it

Mafia AU Masterlist

424 notes · View notes

bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Blitz

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.5k

TW: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, a spritz of omorashi

A/N: this is completely diff from what I’m used to and comfy with; it’s truly the softest thing I’ll ever write— for the real angel, Weese, who welcomed me into my first ever fandom with open arms. I wouldn’t be here without you, wouldn’t have met any of my best friends were it not for you. From the bottom of boku no kokoro, Happy Birthday <33

Weese’s Birthday Bash masterlist

blitz

/blits/

a sudden, energetic, and concerted effort, typically on a specific task.

(slang) heavily intoxicated

He gives credit where credit’s due, and in all fairness, you have been well-behaved, glued to his side til 2am that night. Might even be a new record; usually you’d have gone off and disappeared at the strike of midnight like you’ve got a pumpkin carriage awaiting, only it brings you to a different destination each time.

Whiskey mixers generally mean you end up at some twenty-four seven conbini chatting up the cashier to give you the karaage for a discounted price because you’ve ‘lost your wallet’. It’s never lost; Ushijima knows this because he’s chained it to your belt, lil lobster claw too rickety for your drunk fingers to maneuver.

Tequila shots are the killer; the ones that get his protective mode on overdrive, eyes scanning the streets littered with stumbling drunks until he finds his stumbling drunk.

It’s currently quarter to three, which means it’s been a solid twenty minutes since you’ve wandered off. If he calculates the rate of distance in your drunken state, you couldn’t have traveled that far— two streets down, at most. He hopes, anyways.

Ushijima doesn’t like going out, doesn’t quite get the appeal of being shoved into crowds of people in a cramped room with perspiration mixing with other spilled fluids coating sticky skin. ‘It’s just ‘cause you’re too la-’ a hiccup, a giggle, ‘large, ushi.’ is your usual response. ‘Take up too much space.’

Ushijima goes out because you go out, and when you go out, your Find My Friends icon seems to like playing Pac-Man, navigating through the map like you’ve got dots to clear past every street and building. It worries him. So he goes out.

Tequila shots usually bring you to another club, whichever looks the most bustling, because you flock to crowds, like moth to flame. It’s your first character flaw.

“I’m not that drunk,” he whips his head to see your frame swaying outside the queue of a club entrance, bouncer leaning in close, too close.

Your second character flaw is that you’re too friendly. You tell him he’s too cold, too curt, but he thinks you’re just too outgoing. This is what happens when you’re so sociable.

It only takes him two long strides to cross over the street, extend out one long arm over to your shoulder, and pull you into his chest. The bouncer looks up at him, neck craning probably more than he’s used to, before spitting on the floor and turning back.

“Toooooshi,” he doesn’t think his name has that many vowels, but you’re pawing at his shirt, trying and failing to slither an arm around his waist. “‘m hungry.”

This is standard, this is the usual routine. He’s used to this now, “let’s go home, we have food at home.” After the third night out, he’s made a habit out of cooking before you leave. Because you’re always hungry, you always— “want Maccas,” you’re giggling.

“McDonald’s is going to be closed.” It’s a fact, there’s a slim chance you’ll make it before three, no point in wasting time. Besides, there’s food at home.

But you’re tugging at his arm and dragging him down the street, and he’s letting you, because the best way to appease you is to let you see for yourself. You’re bouncing with excited chirps, skipping down the road with grace that will always impress him given the stilts attached to your feet.

McDonald’s is closed.

It’s like he said, so he allows you to pout and sulk for a minute, run a hand down your back in comfort, before taking out his phone to call a cab. He can feel your shoulder bump into his chest, hands fidgeting with the hem of your short dress, “what’s wrong?”

You’re blushing, cheeks tinting over with a light shade of pink illuminated by the bright yellow lights, and it’d be cute if he wasn’t worried. “What’s wrong?”

Another tug at the black fabric, eyelashes fluttering to point towards the wall, the sign; anywhere except him. “I need to pee.”

It comes out so quietly, so docile, a contrast to your otherwise boisterous drunken state. He leans down, face brushing past your hair until it’s only a mere inch away.

“What’s that?”

He watches as your glossed lips push out into a pout, huffing out a, “I need to pee, Toshi, I need the toilet.” Your heels clack on the gravel a few times as if to prove a point.

“I’m calling a cab right now,” he reassures you, “we’ll be home soon.”

You don’t seem reassured. You seem more anxious, if anything. “No, Toshi, I need to pee now,” he can feel your fingers fidgeting with his shirt, yanking the fabric in nervous twitches.

He watches you chew on your lip, willing a solution out from the pink gloss staining your teeth, any solution—

“Alley.”

It’s barely left his mouth before your head’s whipping to glance at the dark narrow street hidden behind the fast food joint. It’s tight, or maybe you’re right, he’s just too broad, but he barely fits down the cramped road.

You’re not moving, though, just staring up at him expectantly as if sending him a message, a signal. He doesn’t really get it. “It’s fine, there’s no one on the streets right now.”

Your bottom lip snags under your teeth, doe eyes looking up through fluttering lashes as you shake your head. The tint on your cheeks grow darker, and he takes a few steps forward, shadowing your smaller frame in his large silhouette. “I’ll block you, you can go now.”

Ushijima’s not the best with people, he’s always been told this. He knows it himself, but he thinks he knows you pretty well, at least.

He’s lost.

He’s waiting for you to say something, anything, an explanation for your odd behaviour, but instead he feels dainty fingers tug on his shirt again before shoving him lightly.

“Turn around,” you won’t look at him, eyes fixed on the broken bottle on the dingy alleyway floor, “Don’t look.”

People are a mystery to Ushijima, but at this moment, you are an enigma.

All 200 pounds of pure muscle on him is stagnant. He’s confused; he’s seen you naked, seen you from all angles in all sorts of positions, he’s brushed his teeth while you were using the toilet before— he doesn’t get it. So he tells you.

Your fists meekly punch at his arm, at his chest, wherever they can reach, “It’s embarrassing,” you’re pouting now, and he thinks it’s cute. Under any other circumstances he’d lean over and kiss you, but not right now. Right now he wants understand what’s going on up in your mind.

“Why?”

It sets you into a frustrated huff, cheeks puffing out before a dejected sigh, “fine, whatever,” and then you’re squatting down, finally, to his relief. Your dress is hitched up only a fraction before he hears the trickling, but you don’t stand up when it stops.

His whole body freezes at the feeling of a warm hand pawing at his crotch. “What are you doing?” He snatches your hand off by the wrist, pulling it into him to stand you up; you don’t stand up— you fall, on your knees in front of him.

He’s used to you being a handful when you’re drunk, used to you falling all over the place, but the alleyway is soiled, filthy, not entirely appropriate for the thoughts he’s having with you on your knees. So he’s trying again, reaching down to grab hold of both your hands this time, and lugging you up.

You don’t budge, don’t even glance up at him, and he has half the heart to reach down and carry you out, but another hand lands on his crotch again and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the strain in his trousers.

“Toooooooshi,” you’re still not looking up at him, eyes fixated on the growing tent he’s presenting in front of your face. Another soft touch, another purr, and Ushijima knows he’s a lost cause.

He lets go of your wrists, bending down to wrap an arm around your knees and picks you up before standing you back up against the wall.

“Spread your legs.” It’s not really a suggestion.

He watches as you comply, thighs parting as far as the black lace still bound around them will allow, so he rips it down before pocketing it.

He can hear your whines of complaint, it’s your favourite pair, but it’s all drowned out with a gasp as he buries his face into your wet cunt. His hands wrap behind your thighs, large palms pushing them apart until they rest over his shoulders.

His tongue flicks up your drooling slit, lapping at the juices dribbling out your needy hole and down his chin. You’re whimpering now, hands shoving at his face, “stop, Toshi, I—” he looks up at you, gaze piercing through your flushed expression, “I just peed, ‘ts gross.”

“I know.”

“Toshi we’re—” a moan, nails digging into his scalp when he dips his tongue into your clenching hole, “in public, please,” your face whips to the side, anxiously scanning for passerby’s.

“I know,” he echos with a harsh squeeze of your thighs, fucking you down onto his tongue. He can feel a hand threading through his hair, gripping and pulling while the other is obediently clamped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle wanton moans.

“Toshi, stop,” you’re crying now, legs around his head trembling with every lap and lick into your dripping cunt, nose grazing that sensitive bud as he presses your body into the wall. The fingers meekly pushing at his face are chased by your hips bucking against it, and he can feel your hole clench around his muscle.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop because he can feel you coming undone, feel your tight cunny quiver with every thrust— and you do, with a loud sob of his name, before he removes his hand from under to clamp over your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he doesn’t think you can hear him, your eyes rolling back and tongue pressing into the pads of his fingers.

He can still see your hole quivering when he stands back up and unbuckles his trousers. His aching erection springs free with a tug of his waistband, snapping up and wetting his shirt with pre.

Normally he would’ve prepared you better, laid you on your back and fucked you on his tongue and thick fingers until you’re wailing his name, legs shaking with the overstimulation. But he doesn’t have that luxury now, doesn’t have the soft mattress, the plush bedding to sink you into; he only has the brick wall digging into your back in a dingy alleyway.

So he sinks his cock into your drooling cunt, pushing his cockhead through the first ring of muscle. There’s nails clawing at his shoulders, back of his neck, anywhere they can reach, anywhere they can grasp.

It’s tight, so tight he doesn’t think he can fit, thinks he should’ve prepared you after all, but one look down at your tear-stricken face crumbles any inhibitions. His hips snap forward in the same breath his large palms find themselves back under your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The jagged wall is probably digging into your back, and normally he would’ve tried to appease the pain, shift the angle so you’re more comfortable, but right now all he can think about are your doughy walls sucking his cock in, one slow inch at a time.

It’s excruciating how tight you are; by the third inch you’re throwing your head into the crook of his neck, nails digging into his back trying to ease the stretch— Ushijima’s trying, too; trying to make sure he doesn’t drown in the feel of your fluttering walls and snap his hips forward until he can feel the kiss of your cervix on his cockhead.

It doesn’t work, not when you’re chanting his name like a mantra, crying about how full you feel, how much he’s stretching you out— you can feel him in your stomach.

He drops your body down into the thrust of his hips and buries his cock to hilt. Five seconds, then ten, then thirty; he lets you catch your breath, catch his breath, before you’re whimpering in his ear begging him to move.

There’s no time for modesty, an alleyway is hardly the setting for soft gentle sex. With a vice grip in the flesh of your ass, he hugs you into his chest and steadies a hand on the wall behind you.

He can feel your legs attempt to wrap around the width of his hips, his waist, can feel you cooing soft moans into his ears, can hear you sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know. Every piston of his hip echoes in the cramped alleyway, heavy balls papping against your mound.

He’s breathing in your moans, letting himself drown in you desperate whines of his name, “cum in me, Toshi, fill me up”— he’s shoving your pliant body into the harsh wall, arm moving down from the jagged surface to grip the soft flesh under your thigh.

In one swift movement he’s pinned your knees to your ears, limp calves bouncing off his sturdy shoulders as he pounds into you at an unrelenting pace.

Your moans turn to sobs, wails of Toshi, Toshi, Toshi; his breaths turn to grunts into promises to breed you so good, fill you up with his cum until it’s dripping out of your sweet lil cunny. There’s mini crescents marking up the back of his neck, dark purples and yellows running up along yours as he suctions onto new blank patches of skin.

Loud, unrhythmic squelching echos in the alleyway, his arms bouncing you onto his length until you twitch, spasm around his cock, and you’re coming undone for the second time that night with his name spilling out in broken sobs.

Ushijima doesn’t stop, fucks you through your squeals and shoves until he feels your greedy cunt milking his cock again, then he’s spilling into you with hot ropes of cum.

He doesn’t stop until your body’s gone pliant caged inside his, knees still pushed against the wall and saliva dribbling past your lolling tongue down to your messy pussy, mixing with creams of cum and slick and drool.

One limb at a time, he unfolds you and carries you in his arms, cradling your limp body into his chest. He looks down, admires your hazy gaze, pupils blown, and presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

A soft hum leaves your lips, or maybe a giggle, but you’re squirming in his arms, body leaning up until he can feel your soft lips grazing his ear.

“Toooshi,” you drawl, and he almost chokes at how fucked out you sound, the rasp in your voice sending dangerous jolts down to his no longer softening cock.

“Hm?” He’s debating on flagging a cab instead of calling one; can’t really reach into his pocket when you’re in his arms.

“Want Maccas.”

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushiwaka x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tw: exhibitionism #tw: omorashi #weese's birthday bash #wow that's the most legitimately i've ever tagged anything #no dubcon? no incest? no somno???#proper mental #a new milestone for me truly #this is genuinely the softest fluffiest thing you'll get outta me #i'm sorry please don't ask me to write anything like this #this was brewed from my undying love for weese and that's the only reason i could've concocted this #i promise u i couldn't write something this soft ever again if u asked me to #n e ways I LOVE U TIL DA END OF D EARTH WEESE #THANK U SO MUCH FOR BRINGING ALL OF US TOGETHER #YOU ARE THE RESON I'M ON HERE #YOU ARE THE REASON I'VE MET MY BEST FRIENDS #YOU'VE MADE THIS WEIRD TIME IN MY LIFE FUCKING INSANE AND UNFORGETTABLE #wow that sounds like i'm leaving #I'M NOT I'M JUST SAYING; THANK U FOR BEING U #THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE FOR US EVERYDAY; FOR BEING AN ABSOLUTE LIGHT IN OUR LIVES #I HAVE NO WORDS TO EXPRESS MY LOVE SO JUST TAKE THIS FIC #take this masterlist as a token of our appreciation and love for u bb #i hope i didn’t mischaracterize ur husband 2222 much <33 oopsies hhh

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jincherie · 4 years

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kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare.

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword.

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching.

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from.

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse.

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now.

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably.

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it.

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment.

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting.

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely.

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising. “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way.

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip. The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him.

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does.

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not.

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can.

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features.

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events.

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls.

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel.

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane.

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here.

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics.

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts.

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing.

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes.

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does.

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour.

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there.

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier.

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death.

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this.

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

…You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride. “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch.

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know.

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself.

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone.

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing.

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly.

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten.

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics.

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations.

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think.

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped.

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

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