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shibaraki · 2 years ago

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TO BUILD A HOME ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: todoroki shouto is the ideal roommate. he is tidy, quiet, considerate, and one of your dearest friends. you almost wished he were a tactless slob. it would certainly make navigating your feelings for him easier.

tags: GN reader, friends to lovers, pro hero shouto, quirk support engineer reader, living together (and they were roommates!), mutual pining, fluff, alcohol, other character interactions, domesticity, jealous shouto, a little angst, minor oc, love confessions, making out + frottage

wc: 14K+

a/n: I wrote a little bonus sequel for this au about their first date which you can read here !! [+4K]

Shouto’s home strikes a dissonant note with you.

You’re a statuesque centrepiece in his living room, staring out his tall standing windows, paneled wall to wall and making for a beautiful view of the city. There’s a soft shine to it, iridescent from corner to corner. A privacy film to block any view into the apartment from the outside, you’re guessing.

Despite your closeness you’ve never had reason to visit until now. There’s far too much space for one man, you think. Jarringly, it’s as if you’ve stepped into a studio display. A picture perfect bachelor pad— but really, what bachelor pad needed three family sized bedrooms?

It feels awfully lonely.

Shouto heaves the last of your boxes onto the kitchen island with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under his loose shirt, fabric briefly tightening. Unfair, you think. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Back straightening, you watch Shouto roll back his shoulder and rub at the joint. The movement causes the hem to lift and flash a pale swath of skin, his shorts hung low on his hips. The weight in your arms is somehow heavier with his eyes turned onto you.

“You can set it down,” he says, his tone full of warm mirth. The disbelief must be written plain on your face. Your fingers tighten on the corners as he walks over. Tilting his head, the red strands that have been haphazardly pushed back into white slip over his forehead. You watch his gaze dart over the label scribbled onto the card that reads ‘toiletries’.

“I know. I’m just…” your jaw shifts and you swallow, a frown etched into your brow. “I don’t know. Got a little lost in my thoughts”.

“Feel free to change whatever you like,” his mouth curls into a small smile, scar wrinkling by his eye. You are taken by just how happy he looks to have you here. Shouto seemed the type to appreciate his own space. “I want you to be comfortable”.

“Whatever I like?” you echo teasingly, shucking the box up in your embrace and bumping his shoulder. “Famous last words. Maybe I’ll decide to renovate your other guest room into a mini workshop”.

Shouto exhales a quiet laugh. The air around him is displaced by an ephemeral wave of heat that seeps through your sweater; it cools back to room temperature as quick as it came.

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says, and your breath catches. Reaching to poke at the box, he adds, “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no. I can do all that, don’t worry,” you demurred nervously.

“It wouldn’t be a problem”.

Memories of all the things you managed to salvage in the wreck flicker across your mind's eye. Mugs and plates, a few clothes, oil stained tools and various other inappropriate things you’d rather die than have him accidentally discover.

But he’s staring at you like a restless puppy. You relent, “Maybe you can put away the kitchen stuff then”.

After Shouto retreats you are left adrift to navigate the narrow corridors. The room he directs you to has the biggest guest bed and it shares a wall with his own room. You shuffle in, processing your surroundings. Your linens are freshly washed, tucked in tight at the corners, and they smell like him.

You lower another box on top of the bed and sit by the headboard. The mattress yields. Admittedly it is much more comfortable than your old bed used to be. Soft, you sink into a foamy embrace, smoothing a hand over the matching pillowcases, then reaching up to the shared accent wall.

Reality has hardly set in for you yet. It’s been four days since you lost your home, most of your earthly possessions along with it, and the life you had spent years building. The villain that managed to frisbee a car through your living room had been apprehended but not before destroying half the city block.

Shouto immediately volunteered his own place. You have been close friends for years now, having met during your second year at UA as a support course student. You’d worked with Yaomomo on redesigning her costume for your portfolio and managed to worm your way into their quaint friend group.

Your initial crush on him all that time ago burgeoned into something you’re too anxious to put a name to. When he first suggested you live with him while the city fixed everything you’d wanted to refuse. So far lack of proximity has been your only saving grace.

But you really had nowhere else suitable to stay. A hotel would be too costly in the long run. Your other friends are scattered across different prefectures and those who are in the city are too far from work.

Shouto practically sparkled when you agreed, plucked right out of a shoujo manga.

You remember this as your fingers curled into a loose fist and gave the wall a quiet knock. All the tension accumulated in your shoulders relaxes at the dull sound. “Atleast it isn’t thin,” you mused.

There’s a large closet adjacent to the bed, deep enough that you could crawl inside comfortably. Windows that stretch above your head and overlook the busy streets. You notice that same iridescent sheen, alongside a large blind connected to the control pad fixed by your doorway. They roll down as you fiddle and remind you of those old school projectors from the pre quirk era.

The walls are almost entirely bare. Your imagination drifts to the countless books and photo albums you managed to bring, envisioning them taking up the empty space. It makes you wonder what Shouto’s room looks like. You squash that thought.

When you rejoin him he stands with his back to you, blades shifting under the material as he plays with a small round object held between his fingers. Closing the distance you realise it is one of your stress balls.

His expression is entirely relaxed, bright with a little child-like satisfaction. He pulls at the flexible rubber, rolling it under his thumbs, flattening in between his palms. Your novelty mugs are lined up in the open cupboard right beside his own, entirely forgotten.

As not to startle him you call out gently, “Hey”.

Your voice stalls his movement. Shouto pivots and meets your eyes; they widen as you laugh, amused by his forced nonchalance. He clears his throat, “Hi. Are you happy with the room?”

Humming an affirmative, you sidle up next to him and poke at the ball. “It’s fine, thank you. Nicer than my old place”.

Redirecting his attention to the ball, he squeezes it so hard the foamy rubber protrudes through the gaps in his fingers and lets go, smiling as it retains its original shape. “I liked your old apartment,” he murmurs. “It suited you”.

“Because I’m a mess, you mean?” drawn back into Shouto’s orbit, you lean against his left side. He mirrors your weight until you are like two pillars braced against one another, standing uselessly in the middle of his obviously unused kitchen. Your heart aches recalling all those nights he spent at the agency doing unnecessary overtime. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to come back here.

“No,” Shouto huffs lightly, passing the ball hand to hand. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he bumps you with his hip, “Come with me. I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is”.

You are guided back to the genkan; it’s gorgeous, modernised with a calligraphy feature wall that breaks up the light colours. There is a narrow door leading to a coat room and two white cabinets under a granite countertop housing a small decorative bowl painted in Deku’s colours. Inside are your keys and his, the chains entangled.

Very quickly you realise Shouto doesn’t even know where ‘everything’ is. He opens the cupboard doors hesitantly, in a way that suggests he had no idea what is in them. One filled by his shoes and slippers, the other left empty.

The coat closet holds a few jackets you only ever see him wear in winter. He pinches the waterproof puffy sleeve between finger and thumb with a curious sound. Quietly, “I forgot that I had this”.

“You wore it once and Bakugo said you looked like an ugly toasted marshmallow”.

“That’s right,” a smirk pulls at his lips, mouth thin to restrain his laughter. You dip your chin to hide how infectious it is. “He hated it. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow and wear it around the agency”.

“Please don’t. He’s coming to see me later in the day and I need him in a good mood”.

Shouto glances at you from the corner of his eye, sunlight reflecting through the blue iris. You would recognise that air of mischief anywhere. “I mean it, Shouto!”

“The day after, then”.

“As long as I’m not in the line of fire,” you snort, itching absentmindedly at your forearm where the skin feels tender. Probably bruising after carrying everything up. “Antagonising Pro Heroes should be listed as a hobby on your wiki page”.

You fall in line with his footsteps once more and keep pace until he stops by another door. There’s a laundry room and a separate toilet by the genkan, first door to the right. Upon opening the door the white toilet lid lifts.

You gasp and clutch his bicep, far too excitable to register how firm it is. “You never told me you have a happy toilet. What the hell, Shouto?”

Still nestled in his palm, you notice Shouto squeezes the stress ball until the foam is straining under the stretchy skin but you say nothing of it. He swallows and echoes your words, “A happy toilet?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it's happy to see you! Isn’t it cute?”

He turns with his cheek between his teeth, exhaling a warm puff of air through his nose. “Yeah,” Shouto rasps. “It’s cute”.

The entrance leads to a hallway, opening at the end to an open plan living area and kitchen. A black and white palette, dark stained wood flooring from room to room. You stand by and watch fondly as he opens every half empty drawer. The sectional couch is a welcome splash of colour— deep royal blue, huge, L shaped and plush, facing a 60 inch TV held up by a cabinet with a few books and photographs inside.

You toe at the fluffy grey rug laid out under the coffee table. His place is spectacular, sure, but it isn’t Shouto. While left unspoken it seemed you both knew that. There’s an abashed pinch to his expression that’s endearing, yet sad; you thought he might be embarrassed by how threadbare his home life appeared to be.

“You ever use that thing?” you ask, pointing to the TV. Predictably, Shouto shakes his head.

“Not very much. These days it feels like I only come here to sleep,” he leans over to pick up the remote from between the cushions and balances it on the arm of the couch. “Every few months Uraraka and Midoriya will visit to order food and watch movies with me. You can use it whenever you want”.

The bathroom is opposite your bedroom doors. He taps his own in passing but does not open it. You step into a bright, white tiled room with a double vanity sink and murmur in awe. Above are ceiling lights that give a soft glow, giving it a warm toned hue. Behind a glass door is a bowl shaped bathtub, big enough to fit two.

“Damn…” you whisper, running your fingers over the control pad connected to the tub. There’s a big bath cover propped by the wall. “A sauna button, too?”

“Not that I need it,” he muses, standing by the doorway, hands loosely interlocked as he observes you navigating his space. Intuitively, you get the sense that this is the beginning of a true paradigm shift. His offer had been the fork in the road and your agreement took you down a path soon to be irreversible.

You could survive seeing him at work or out with the mutual friends you shared. You’re not sure how you’ll weather the domesticity that comes with living together.

The reflection in the mirror shifts awkwardly and you grimace at how hard you’re trying to act like a normal human being. This is just Shouto: your good friend and longtime supporter. Just the man you might possibly be in love with.

“We should probably talk about ground rules and stuff,” you begin, hoping it’ll wipe that gentle look off his face before you say something stupid.

“Ground rules?” Shouto pushes off from the door frame with his back straight. He tilts his head, sight following you closely as you scoot past him back into the hallway.

“Like a chore rota and stuff. Rules so we can live in harmony or something. And you still need to let me know how much I’m paying you”.

“But I don’t want you to”.

You pause mid step and turn to stare at him in soft incredulity. “Why not? It’s only right I contribute”.

Steadfast, he holds your gaze and bluntly says, “I have a higher income than you. There’s no need for you to pay me rent”.

“Way to rub it in”.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh at the rare wobble to his voice and knock your hands together as a sign of forgiveness. His eyes squint into a smile. “It just feels unfair for me to ask that of you”.

The hallway falls dim as clouds gather, casting shadows that make the private bubble you’re in seem that much smaller. “But I want to,” you reassured him. “Come on— forty percent?”

“Thirty”.

You hold out three fingers up on the right and five on the left. You try again, “Thirty five?”

“Thirty,” he doubles down, covering the entirety of your left hand with his own. You feel his thumb skim your inner wrist and your resolve breaks.

“…Fine”.

Shouto grins boyishly and you do not acknowledge the flutter in your stomach.

The first few days are cautious despite your desire to behave as normal. At night you found yourself acutely aware of Shouto’s presence behind the bedroom wall. Your senses latched onto every muted bump and creak; the quiet drew thoughts you so valiantly avoided the surface and you could do nothing besides parse through them.

It made sleeping difficult.

You’d wondered if Shouto was having the same issue but the drowsy gait and hair plastered to one side of his head only ever spoke of a good night's rest. He wears loose silk pyjama pants to bed, low on his hips and an inch or so longer at the leg so they always caught under his heel as he walked.

Seeing him relaxed and fumbling like a fawn before his morning tea felt as if a big star was fizzing in your chest. It’s strange, in a tentative way, not an uncomfortable one.

The dust settles and a chore rota is scribbled out on a white board and pinned to the refrigerator with a worn All Might magnet. Your hours are less hectic so you offered to do the weekly shopping. Shouto volunteers for the laundry— his sister set the machines up for him when he first moved and he hasn’t moved the dials since— and taking out the garbage. Together you build a precariously clumsy peace, a mimicry of home.

Things started to change.

A kaleidoscope can take on an entirely new pattern with just the subtle turn of the lense. Weeks lapse. You stopped asking for permission and he no longer sought reassurance that you were happy. Existing parallel to one another, your lives fit seamlessly, though not without effort.

You’ve never known him to be a tactile type of guy— back when you rushed to hug him at graduation he’d brandished his diploma like a weapon before noticing it was you. Now, Shouto playfully hip checks you in the kitchen, he sits closer than he needs to on the couch and texts you at random throughout the day. He brings you a treat if his route overlaps your commute, keeping it hot in his left hand. He even greets you by the door on the rare occasion he finishes a shift first.

Your heart is fatter than ever and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it or where to put it down. After the city has rebuilt your apartment block and deemed it safe you’ll be returning to a normal you don’t recognise anymore.

You’re finalising the upgrade for Dynamite’s summer gauntlets when your phone buzzes on your bench. The vibration carries it closer to the edge and you scoop it up before the inevitable fall, cursing at the oil smeared around the case. The screen lights up.

shouto : 1 minute ago

There’s an image attached with no explanation. You are met with the open skyline, dense clouds of every shape and size dotted across a blue canvas. Shouto’s arm is in the shot, finger pointed towards one cloud in particular.

You squint at it. Zoom in on your phone, tilt it to the side, flip it in the editor and outline it— and nothing rings a bell. It’s a white blob.

Another notification drops down at the top of your screen. You wipe your hand against your overalls and open it.

shouto : just now

ヾ(=^・ｪ・^)

Your nose wrinkles as you glance back to the photo. Granted, it does have two pointed edges that could be interpreted as cat ears if you squinted. Maybe. This isn’t new — he burned his toast three days ago and took a picture simply because it looked vaguely feline.

you : delivered

aren’t u supposed to be on patrol?

The message turns to ‘read’ quicker than expected. You panic and click off the conversation, setting the phone face up on your workbench and reading from your locked screen. Lately, despite living together and seeing one another every day, Shouto seems to have more to say to you than ever.

shouto : just now

Divine intervention. We should get a cat.

The use of ‘we’ pings around your head like a pinball. Ever since the initial dubitation smoothed out he's become much more flippant about things— treating your situation as though it were permanent.

An intern shuffles into the workshop with a thick binder. Not one of yours, you realise. One of Mei’s. They blink curiously as your phone buzzes again, loud where it clatters on the hard surface, and you bite down on your inner cheek, hard, keeping your feelings at bay.

When handed the papers you breathe in recognition. They’ve been coordinated into two groups, and you’d know that logo anywhere. “The costume applications for the upcoming UA students! I wondered why they hadn’t come in yet”.

“Yes, for 1A and 1B. Hatsume-san said these ended up on her desk,” they said, gesticulating nervously, “and that I— I should give them to you?”

“Well If not for you I’m sure these would’ve ended up buried under all her discarded prototypes,” you demurred, offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thank you”.

Abruptly, your phone gives another violent jerk and disrupts the moment. The intern squeaks, rigidity returning to her posture, and scurries out with a rushed goodbye. You sink into your arms, forehead pressed to the cool metal. Surely you aren’t that scary.

Turning the screen, you read the texts and sigh fondly.

shouto : 4 minutes ago

An older cat would be nice.

shouto : just now

Should we order tonight?

My treat.

Your gaze lifts to find the time at the top of the screen. It blinks back at you, the hour changing. Not long until you can head out.

you : delivered

it isn’t a treat for me if it’s more cold soba. give me variety or give me death (งಠ_��)ง

The cursor flickers. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitating on the final letter. Something so minor that feels bigger than it has any right to be.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you mutter, sending it before your mind can change.

you : read

be safe ok? I’ll see you at home.

When he doesn’t reply you figure he’s returned to his job, thus you return to yours.

Dynamite was once again trusting you with his gear. Bakugo had been extraordinarily protective over his initial design in highschool. Great bulbous things strapped to each wrist, grenade-like appearance, so big that his arms became pendulous and swung away from his body as he walked. The shoulder strain was immense.

You fought tooth and nail to get him to accept your adjustments. Now every summer you remodelled the gauntlets to be lighter and ventilated, and in winter you added in insulation and flexibility.

Respectively, the gauntlets still weigh a lot without additional stored nitroglycerin. You lift, bending at the knees and groaning as you lower them both down into a protective case, slotting into foam padding for protection. No doubt they’d end up rough on the first day but you still wanted them to arrive without a scratch.

Evening draws near. Closing the lid, it gives a satisfying click. You fiddle with the lock pad and calibrate it to open only for Bakugo’s thumb print before lugging the case to the built-in vault in your workshop, where it’ll be kept over the weekend.

Mei’s lab is directly opposite your own. Despite the dense soundproofing and reinforced steel concrete the jarring screech of a saw echoes throughout the hallway. You press your hand to the towering door, muscle fibres wracked by vibrations. Bidding her goodbye would be futile— she’s been working on a new patent for months now. The rest of the world fell away when she got like this.

Heading through to the main lobby, you greet those passing by with a nod, exchanging hurried words. It was always as though time didn’t exist here. People worked all hours, any hours. Flexibility was a point of pride for your company, and seeing someone eat breakfast after midnight wasn’t uncommon.

You preferred a regular schedule. Routine keeps you moderately sane. A cool breeze gusts through the sliding doors as you duck into the street; you hiss at the immediate change in temperature. Patting down your coat pockets you dig out your phone, sending a one-handed text to Shouto while you slip in your earbuds.

Cacophonous bustling of the streets now muffled, you scroll through a playlist and click at random. An upbeat melody carries you to the station, scooting through the throngs of people and tapping your card at the barriers.

You pick up the pace, scurrying onto the train right before the doors close. A stranger glares, looking over your dishevelled state with judgement. You find a narrow corner, left standing on the far end of the carriage, squashed up against the window to make room for other passengers.

Conscious about the volume. you turned down your music a tad and sank into the confines of your coat. Shouto’s apartment is miraculously closer than your old one, meaning the commute is much shorter, and your time spent in bed is much longer. Three stops pass and the sky begins to bruise. Purple hues blend gently into red, the sun a fiery hearth on the seam of the horizon that blinks abruptly between the passing buildings.

When you reach home Shouto still hasn’t texted back. You bend to arrange your shoes, coat hung beside his terrible winter puffer. The floor is cold under socked feet, pottering through to the living room in search of the TV remote.

You flinch as the newscaster's voice blurts out of the speakers. Shouto must have left it on the news channel this morning. Watching the scene unfold on the screen you feel your heart climb your throat.

Shouto is a hero— a number of your friends are. Villain fights are not only inevitable, they’re a requirement. The truth of it doesn’t make reality any easier to swallow. Uravity is a welcome sight. She’s fighting diligently alongside Shouto, up against multiple villains seemingly working in tandem to destroy the area.

You always thought villains were a good example of how versatile and powerful even the most innocuous quirks can be. Topspin can morph their limbs into a whirling top, and with years of training has gained the ability to form small tornados using momentum. Another you recognise is Cryo, a woman capable of making her body intangible similarly to Lemillion— though she is able to freeze you temporarily if she phases through your body.

There are others, too. Criminals you don’t recognise. It’s been a long time since a big group tried to organise in this manner. You worry at your lip, bracing against the back of the couch for support. What you find most concerning is they don’t seem to have a goal. Just mass destruction, plain and simple.

“Come on,” you think anxiously, nails digging into the cushion as you watch Shouto brace a falling building with his ice, creating an emergency slide for those left inside to escape. You’ve always marvelled at his parallel processing skills— Deku, too. Their thoughts must be running a million miles a second.

The cameras switch to highlight the other heroes and you realise you’ve been holding your breath. You exhale, physically deflating, feeling the weight of your phone in your pants pocket. Clean up would take a while once the battle is won; curry night is off the table.

That’s fine. You could forgive it as long as he came back in one piece.

Evening sinks into night. Shouto comes home after you’ve retired to your bed, though you aren’t asleep yet; you took to staring at the ceiling, waiting for a call from the hospital that you hoped wouldn’t come.

The distant sound of his boots hitting the floor has relief flooding through your system. You strain to listen as he makes his way through the apartment, deliberately quiet. You hear him head straight to the bathroom. The echo of running water muffles after the door closes with a soft click.

You check your phone once more, scanning over the recent updates and not finding much. You consider leaving him alone. Villain fights are hard on the body and the heart. Shouto likes space to process things before he speaks on them, and so you don't want to overstep.

That sentiment dissipates steadily. Five minute intervals that feel like hours. Shouto is in the bathroom for a long, long time. You are seated on the edge of your bed with the covers pulled back when he finally comes out.

Warm light streams beneath your doorway. Muscles clenched, you daren’t move an inch as a stretch of shadow moves across. Shouto stands outside your room and you stare, silently urging him to knock and give you an excuse.

After a beat, Shouto turns away. He flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles down the hallway, away from his own bedroom. Your feet tentatively touch the floor and you slide off the bed with hands held out, careful not to knock into any furniture on the way.

Goose pimples raise across your forearms. You’re in sleep shorts and a ratty old shirt on a cool spring night. No wind and no clouds, the moon hung high and bright. You have never seen the city so eerily still at this hour.

The air always retains the warmth of his body for a while, and you feel it lingering when you step into the hallway.

Voice kept to a whisper, you softly called for him, “Shouto?”

You find him sitting in the middle of the couch. The blinds are up, moonlight flooding in. Shouto is a solid silhouette outlined in white.

“Did something happen?”

The fight ended up dragging on for a while, so you’re in the dark. Details about casualties were steadily being released to news outlets as the heroes dug through the remaining rubble. You’ve yet to hear of any deaths, civilian or otherwise, which is a relief.

He lifts his head, “I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you”.

“You didn’t,” Shouto’s gaze follows as you shuffle towards him, footfalls loud on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The silence is suffocating. Your vision adjusts to the darkness, stuck on the downturn of his mouth and pallid eyes. “We’re friends right? Friends share their burdens,” you try again, awkwardness leaking out with every syllable. “I’m here for you”.

He looks away. There’s a dark, disquieting bruise blooming on his jaw. Subconsciously, Shouto presses a finger onto the bruise and the blood beneath it recedes, paling and returning like the tide.

You don’t sit too close— worried proximity might be suffocating. The couch arm is firm under you, feet propped on the seat cushion. Shouto wets his lips, as if to alleviate the gravity of his words.

“A group of school children were in the theatre when it collapsed,” he rasps. His hand curls into a tight fist, sparks of fire diminishing between his knuckles. “They were young. No older than ten”.

“You blame yourself”.

Turning to you, light casts softly across half of his face, pooling in his left eye. “I was a second too late and now—” he stops, the words caught in his throat.

“Because of my mistakes those children are stuck with the traumatic memory of being trapped under all that rubble. I... I could hear them screaming”.

You gulp and slide down onto the couch, guided by the urge to touch him, “Hey. But you got them out safely, yeah? They’re okay, Shouto”.

His eyes crinkle a bit, if only a trick of your own, and you take it as permission to reach over. One by one you unfurl each finger, massaging your thumbs into his palm to smooth away the crescent marks.

“We got them out,” he amends quietly, taking a brief pause to find the right words. You spend it appreciating the nicks in his skin, scars and rough edges, proof of his tenacity.

Shouto closes his hand around your own, staring dolefully at the point where your bodies meet. You see it for what it is— a request for comfort — and your palms kiss as you realign your fingers, holding on tight.

“You know what I think?”

He hums, curiously peering up through his damp bangs.

“Those kids? They won’t just remember the bad stuff,” you smile, as tender as you feel, “I think they’ll remember how at ease they felt when Hero Shouto opened the way with his ice to save them. And now they know a hero will always come”.

The strain bleeds from his bones and his expression opens up in quiet wonderment. “Really?” he asks, his voice small, mouth finally curling. Your heart gives a squeeze.

“Really,” you affirm, knocking your knees together. Shouto’s smile widens, chin tucking to hide it. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No. Just bruised up,” he says. An idea clicks into place.

“Good. I’ve got something we can do to make you feel better,” you scramble to your feet, weight shifting as Shouto’s stare lingers on your bare legs. It feels as though the moon is casting a spotlight, and you resist the urge to pull your shorts down.

“What is it?”

“Mug cake!” you exclaim happily, bringing your hands together. Adding an afterthought, “and a movie, too. One you haven’t seen yet”.

Shouto tilts his head, amused, but stands with you all the same. You notice then that he's changed into a pair of sweatpants, cuffed at the ankles. The t-shirt he’s wearing has a Pinky logo branded across his chest in bubble font.

“Mug cake?” he repeats.

“Cake in a mug,” you ribbed, poking at him. You start toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’ll only take like five minutes, tops!”

“Do we have cake ingredients?” he muses, following close behind. You flick on the recessed light over the stove and root through the cupboards, trying to ignore the natural warmth of his body beside yours.

“We have everything,” you insist. “I would know. I do the shopping, remember?”

Hovering unnecessarily close by, Shouto leans back against the counter and observes you with fondness as you list off the ingredients under your breath. It shouldn’t be so magnetising— you can feel something in your chest being drawn in, as though you were two unlike poles meant to come together.

Meeting his gaze, you look away and try to tame your giddiness. “Quit staring and find me two big mugs”.

You breathe a little easier when he does as you ask. Two large ceramic mugs are placed on the counter— a hideously priced vintage All Might mug gifted by Midoriya, another with cat ears on the rim and a tail curled into the handle.

“Will these do?” he murmurs. You startle at the closeness of his voice, nearly dropping the teaspoon in your hand.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yep. Thank you”.

He nods, satisfied. “Tell me what else to do”.

You grab another teaspoon and hand it to him. The joy in his eyes gleams, so pleased at the opportunity to help. “First we need to put four teaspoons of flour and caster sugar in our mugs, then add two teaspoons of the cocoa powder. You follow?”

Shouto mirrors each action, always glancing back to your movements to check he was doing so correctly. It is unbearably endearing.

“Now we add an egg in each— one sec,” the fridge light bursts through the dimly lit kitchen, and you squint, grabbing two eggs from the tray. You give him an egg. “Now crack it into the mug and stir”.

You’ve ended up with the All Might mug. Using it is nerve wracking; all you can think of is how expensive it was, but the cat mug is Shouto’s clear favourite. Gently, you tap the egg on the counter. A hairline fracture forms on the shell. You push your thumbs in, prying it apart over the mix, letting the whites drizzle.

Shouto is… faring well enough. There’s clear viscous liquid all over his fingers, and his shell is broken in three, but the yolk made it in.

You laugh quietly at his sheepish expression as you pass him some tissue. He wipes his hands, leaning to observe while you add three teaspoons of milk and vegetable oil. “Where did you learn to make these?”

“During my apprenticeship,” you admit. Graduation hadn’t led to immediate incredible offers like it had for Shouto. You needed to get your foot in the door first, which meant working awful hours with shit pay and little recognition. “I was trying to save up back then, so I ate a lot of crap like this”.

“I’ve never tried it,” he says, repeating the steps as you had shown him. Your fingers brush with a pass of the milk. “I wasn’t allowed treats as a child so I guess I didn’t develop much of a sweet tooth”.

“That’s just like you,” you grin, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and shaking them in his direction. “Always gotta drop depressing lore in the middle of a nice moment”.

The truth about the Todoroki family had been outed during your first year, right before the war. It’s a subject Shouto can joke about now that time has mostly healed over those wounds. Granted, his relationship with his father was cautious at best, and his older brother was locked away in a private facility for a good few decades, but things were better.

“Did you hear me?”

You blink, startled out of your reverie, “What?”

“I said I have plenty more material but you zoned out,” Shouto raised a brow, dipping into the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over his cake mix, “Where did you go?”

“Ah…” you take his mug and set it beside yours inside the microwave, turning the dial to the two minute mark. “I was just thinking I kinda want to kick your dad’s ass”.

Your heart leaps. You will never be sick of Shouto’s laugh; it’s like hearing his soul. The sound is rich and warm over the loud hum, glass plate turning, mixture bubbling.

“Don’t worry about that,” the laughter tapers off into an affectionate murmur, body naturally leaning into you, “he’s been kicking himself for years now”.

“Good—!” the microwave pings, and your soul jumps out of your skin. “Jesus. Why is it always so much louder at night?”

The mugs are still hot. You press a kiss to your stinging fingertips and step aside; Shouto takes each cake out one at a time with this left hand wrapped around the mug. “Show off,” you pout.

A sweet aroma fills your senses. They’ve risen well. You lightly scratch the top with your spoon, pleased by the firmness. “We did pretty good,” you chirped.

“Smells good,” Shouto notes, cradling his mugcake to his chest as though something precious. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s pick while it’s still hot”.

You cast a fleeting look at the counter before you walk around the kitchen island, putting the minor mess to the back of your mind. Bouncing back onto the couch, you run your free hand down the cushions in search of the remote.

“Where’s the—” Shouto sits to your right and passes it to you. “Did you pull that out of thin air?”

“Yes. I have a third quirk called ‘remembering where I put things’,” he grins, dodging the half hearted swat you send his way.

“You’re a real comedian. Just for that I’m picking what I want to watch”.

Infuriatingly, Shouto looks happy about that, “You know what I’d like anyway”.

In the end you choose Ponyo because he had not yet watched it— a fact you deemed criminal. You watch his expressions soften at the vibrant scenery, idly pushing the tip of his spoon into the cake. He scoops out a piece and brings it to his lips.

You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth. Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don’t say them.

Only then do you let yourself eat yours. The spoon sinks into the sponge, a faint waft of heat bursting from the centre where the chocolate chips have melted. It’s just the right side of fluffy.

Comfortable silence hung over your heads, masked under the clinking of your spoons against the mugs.

After the soft thud of an empty mug meeting the table, breaking through the quiet, Shouto speaks.

“Bakugo mentioned you today,” he says. “Asked me to pass on a message”.

You hum to indicate that you’re listening. “He said ‘hurry the fuck up or kiss my sponsorship goodbye’, verbatim”.

“I’m not sure I like those words coming out of your mouth,” you laugh, shoulders shaking with it. Shouto tips his head back, lips twisted to hold laughter of his own. “What a bullshitter”.

Bakugo liked working with you too much to pull out. Even if he didn’t, the man was a hard nut to crack and refused to trust anyone else with his gear.

“Are you almost done? Working on his gauntlets, I mean”.

“They’re finished,” you responded, cheek resting on the heel of your hand. Shouto repositions his hips, turning his body to face you in your periphery while you watch Sousuke and Ponyo eat ramen. “Good and ready for the summer. Now he won’t level half the city when he sneezes”.

“Thank you for your hard work,” comes his mirthful reply. “Oh, and Uraraka says hello. She wants you to go to the get together tomorrow night”.

“You know I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. A soft sound that has satisfaction singing through your veins. “I wasn’t planning on going so I forgot to mention it”.

You run your tongue along your molars. There’s still a lingering chocolate taste. “You aren’t going to go?” you ask, tone trended downwards, plainly implying your disappointment. It wouldn’t be so odd. While you’d befriended Momo and some of class B before ever meeting Shouto, you’re not sure you want to be there without him.

“I will go if you do,” he eyes the way your shoulders relax at that, attentive to a fault. “They can pick on you instead of me”.

You roll your eyes with exasperated affection and arms crossed over your middle. “Tomorrow?” mhm. “Is it at that place Denki likes?” mhm. “Thought it might be. Guess I can be your buffer for a few hours”.

“I’ll let them know,” Shouto murmurs. Colour dances across his skin, shadows moving with the picture on the screen. Ponyo dunks her head into the depths alongside Sosuke and the room is suddenly awash with vibrant blue, and you witness an unwelcome epiphany cross his mind.

Stated like a huffy accusation, he says, “You know, you’ve worked on most of my friends gear, but never mine”.

“You never asked,” you reminded him. “And you had connections in my industry already because of your… Endeavor. But I would’a jumped at the chance to get rid of that first costume you designed”.

Cheek pressed to the cushion, he smiles. “What, was the glacier too much?”

“It was so ugly Shouto,” you bemoan, leaning closer with your dramatic outburst. “The worst part was it covered up half of your pretty face. Now that’s just bad for branding”.

A soft intake of breath. Shouto’s lips part and you are caught in his awestruck stare. His voice deepens as he asks, “You think I’m… pretty?”

You swallow and muster up an easy grin, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you goof”.

His eyes lower, pensive for a moment, and then flicker back to the movie. Ponyo is sleepy, and the boat has shrunk, and Sousuke has big tears rolling down his cheeks.

You can’t help thinking it was the wrong thing to say.

Eventually the noise settles into static; the kind that makes the shadows seem a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. You burrow into your hoodie, pulling the collar up over the bridge of your nose as Sosuke and Ponyo are reunited with his mother in a vast underwater paradise.

The earlier exchange weighs on you. Stealing a quick glance at Shouto, you feel your anxiety chip at the expression on his face. Somewhere there, beneath the scar tissue and laughter lines and eye bags, is a small boy watching in awe.

Neither of you speak until the film comes to an end. Your head bobs along to the final song, drawn into a bubble of nostalgia. Through the thick of it, you hear a whisper. Shouto says your name and there’s barely any strength behind it, uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace, his left arm now outstretched, the intention clear.

Shouto looks right back. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the small smile on his face. You crawl across the couch cushions and curl under his arm, turning your cheek to watch the credits play out.

“You looked cold,” he belatedly adds. “Is this ok?”

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years Shouto is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position.

Swallowed by warmth, you guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm.

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as the faint tremors dwindle and your bones thaw. Fatigue creeps up, making your eyelids heavy.

Quietly, “Better”. Then you mumble, “And I do think you’re pretty, Shouto”.

“Hm?”

“Was bein’ a bit of a coward earlier,” you continue, a sleepy drawl to your words. A yawn pulls at your jaw, nose flaring with it. You think you could sink right into him, like a hot bath. “Shouto’s pretty… all… all the time…”

Your weary eyes gave in to the rhythmic stroke of his hand, consciousness drifting away. Soft dreams undulate, drawing you in, pushing you out. There’s a familiar face. They turn into your palms when you cradle them. Your stomach clenches at the sudden weightlessness and you grasp at their shirt, worried you might float away.

When you wake up you are in your own bed again. It returns to you in fragments— Shouto’s arms around you, his rumbling laugh, the tangible intimacy that had hung over your heads. Realising he must have carried you to bed you turn over to groan into your pillow.

Eventually, what draws you out into the open is the smell. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad out into the living room, searching for Shouto. Leggings, your mind whispers. He’s milling about the kitchen in his workout clothes; a little pair of shorts overtop and a green hoodie.

“Morning,” he says, placing a small plate onto a tray. You notice two bowls have already been prepared. “I made breakfast”.

The greeting dies in your throat when he looks up. A stream of dewy morning light illuminates the room, reflecting on the pale surfaces, creating an ethereal view. He combs his hair back with his fingers, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. Your gaze strays from the bruise on his jaw— now turning a sickly shade of green— to the food on his tray.

“Wow,” you mumble, feeling hunger twist in your stomach. “This actually looks edible. What’s the occasion?”

It’s a traditional breakfast. A bowl of rice, miso soup with some vegetables, a rolled egg and a plate of grilled fish. Shouto sets a pair of chopsticks down. “No special occasion. I just wanted to cook for you”.

“God. You are so…” you wave your hands at him, too overwhelmed by the sudden flush of tenderness.

He blinks, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “You just gestured to all of me”.

“I just woke up and there’s a prince using my shitty old rice cooker. Forgive me,” you remarked groggily. It feels as if your entire being is a soft spot that he won’t stop prodding at.

Gathering the tray in your grasp you avoid his stare and make way to the dining table, his quiet chuckle close behind. You sit, unnerved by his presence and fighting off dregs of sleep. The seat is cold under your thighs. “Thank you for the food,” you murmur.

Chopsticks tucked in the crook of your thumb and finger, you pick up a rolled omelette. The egg tastes sweeter than expected— mixed with more sugar than required, you think, but it’s good, and you finish in the next bite.

“Are you not leaving for work?”

Shouto hovers across from you; his hands rested on the back of another chair, and stood silently. “How is it?” he deflects.

Your teeth sink into a tofu cube, umami flavours bursting on your tongue. You hum your approval, making a show of it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Shouto. Really”.

Over the years you’ve come to learn that Shouto reacts to praise in subtle ways, and often smiles without his mouth. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice and see it in his spirited stride. You watch as his shoulders straighten. He’s alight, peacocking his pride, and you’re not sure he realises it.

“There’s a secret ingredient”.

You pause mid chew, swallowing thickly. “If you say love I’m moving out”.

Shouto tempers his amusement with a shake of his head. Stray hair falls forward to frame his cheeks. The chair reclines back on two legs as he leans. “My mother told me that making a meal for someone is a simple way to show gratitude,” he continued. “Thank you for taking care of me last night”.

Heat simmers under your skin, all buzzing energy and jitters. The sincerity is disarming. Had this been a dream you would’ve kissed him.

Shoving another tofu cube in your mouth you chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “Don’t thank me for that,” your initial playfulness softened to reciprocate some of his vulnerability. “I know I’m not a hero but I’ll always be there for you in whatever way I can”.

Whatever his response is, you don’t hear it. Shouto murmurs inaudibly, eyes falling closed with a long exhale. Your only respite is the warmth in his gaze when he looks back at you. “I need to leave now if I don’t want to be late. But I’ll see you tonight?”

You hum an affirmative, nodding around the white rice pinched between your chopsticks. It falls apart gently on your tongue. Covering your mouth, you say, “I’ll be there”.

Shouto steps away with some finality, readjusting the hem of his shirt. The fabric hangs loose around his hips, emphasising how tight his shorts are. You mentally kick yourself.

“I’ll text you, then”.

The day passes frustratingly slowly after Shouto leaves. You technically could be sifting through the new student’s designs, but all you can think about is how charged the atmosphere had been this morning. Retiring back to your room to scream into a pillow or two, you eventually find yourself getting ready.

Shouto let you know he would be going straight from the agency. He had clothes in a locker here— casual, some jeans and a sweater, which at least allayed the fear of being underdressed.

You pull on one of your nicer jackets, holding the lapels close to your chest as you step out into the cold evening. Dark cumuli gather in sparse clumps across the darkening sky; as mercy has it, the wind is pushing them in the opposite direction.

The place isn’t far. You don’t frequent it very often but liked it well enough despite management being a bunch of rich guys playing dive-bar dress up. The low ceilings, vintage mismatched furniture and dim red lights created an intimate atmosphere.

People loved the idea of finding a hole in the wall that nobody else knew about. The catch was everybody knows, but not everybody can get in.

Flashing above the door in green neon lights is a sign grimly reading ‘The Love Shack’. The first thing you notice is the strong woodsy smell masking the faint scent of alcohol. There’s a floral tinge to it that you have trouble pinpointing.

You head inside and greet the bouncer standing by the entrance. He’s a big guy, standing around 6 feet 9, mutton chops swallowing a great deal of his face. Resting on his bald crown are a pair of comically small sunglasses.

Before he can ask for your name it is being hollered across the bar. A few heads turn and you dip your chin to shield from prying eyes. Uraraka is bounding over, Mina hot on her coattails. The pair topple into you with canorous laughter clear over the music.

“You’re here!” Uraraka effused, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking them. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Shouto has been keeping you all to himself”.

Mina slumps against you, echoing Ursraka’s words with a slurred whine. “Holy shit. Are you guys already tipsy?” unsteady on your feet you try to keep them upright.

“No,” Mina tittered, pink lips jutting into a pout. She pokes at your cheek. “You’re just too sober!”

You startle. Another hand, large and hot, splays at the small of your back. The bouncer grunts and encourages you in the direction which they came from. That appears to spur the girls on— you’re dragged to the far end of the bar, a wide booth nestled just around the corner, hidden from view.

You’re met with a chorus of cheers. Kirishima, Jirou and Shinsou beckon you forward. Bakugo is nursing a pint, offering you a wordless nod. Momo shakes her head as Denki attempts to climb out and greet you despite being trapped by the table, patting his back when the effort is fruitless.

“Alright, alright. I missed you too,” you grin, helplessly charmed by your friend's excitement. Uraraka ushers you into the booth. You scoot up beside Momo, the group packed in like sardines to make room.

Mina bends to press a wet kiss to your hairline. It leaves behind a sticky impression of her lips. “Let me go grab you a drink, babe!” she chirps, skipping off toward the bar and immediately draping her upper body over the black countertop to wave the bartender over.

The conversations resume, an easy atmosphere settling over your group. Though you aren’t entirely from their world they do well to involve you, asking for your thoughts, trying to make you laugh. Jirou blushes under the red lights when you bring up her latest album, sending you an appreciative grin. Mina returns holding an impressive amount of drinks, her fingers slipping dangerously on the condensation.

You are one strawberry daiquiri in. There’s a muted yet pleasant buzz under your skin, no doubt aided by the good company. Still, you cast an anxious glance around the room, curious about Shouto’s absence. A soft tap to the knee draws your attention.

Momo turns to whisper in your ear, “Shouto said he’ll be here on the hour,” answering that unspoken question. Your cheeks fill with an indignant breath, embarrassed by your own transparency.

“We aren’t attached at the hip, you know,” you rasp childishly. It’s a lie— you’ve lived with Shouto for only three weeks and you have already forgotten where he ends and you begin. Momo laughs, hiding it behind the back of her hand.

“Could’a had me fooled,” Bakugo interjects, scoffing behind his drink. The glass tips and he drains the last of it. “Your name is all I hear outta his mouth these days. Starting to think he doesn’t know any other words”.

You hold up an accusing finger, “Quit reading our lips, dickhead”.

The other bares his teeth, gums and all. He moves his hands in recognisable patterns at a deliberately slow pace, as if talking down to you. ‘Fuck you’ he signs.

“Oh!” Kirishima claps abruptly. You startle, almost knocking over your drink. He’s so big that it rocked the table. “Check this, Bakugo. I’ve been learning more signs, you gotta tell me if I’m doing ‘em right!”

“Fuck do I look like to you?”

“Like my handsome best bro,” is his smooth reply. Cheeks red as his hair, a cocksure grin flashing his sharp teeth; Bakugo softens, clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, betrayed by the twitch by the corner of his mouth. You think Kirishima is like an overgrown stray that manipulated Bakugo into being his human.

Whatever he clumsily signs must have been obscene, because Bakugo roars with laughter.

“Who the hell taught you that, shitty hair?”

The hour comes and goes. Rings of water collect under the glasses. Shouto is five minutes late. You displace the group, accepting Uraraka’s loose lipped complaints as she is forced to scoot back out the booth. Pinching the fat of her pink cheek, she’s placated by the promise of another round on you.

“I’ll come with,” Shinsou offered with a lazy wave.

“Thanks,” waiting for him to get to his feet, you smile. You liked Shinsou well enough. Working as an underground hero meant you didn’t get to see him too often.

You approach the bar. The man working behind it has gossamer insectoid wings on his back, sprouting from two long slits in his fitted shirt. They glint in the light, colours refracting iridescent, reminding you somewhat of a church window.

He comes over as he catches your eye, wiping down the sticky surface. You’re honest enough to admit he’s handsome. Rugged with a baby face, hair falling over his forehead in loose curls. There’s an easy air about him, and when he flashes a crooked grin you feel the alcohol a little too thick in your veins.

Tattooed forearms brace against the bar and he leans into your magnetism, “What can I get ya?”

“They’ll have the same as last time,” you reply. “I think the tab should be under Kaminari’s name?”

He nods, eyes skimming over your form, “Won’t be long”.

You turn to find that Shinsou is staring, kissed by a reddish glow. His mouth downturns into a smirk. “I don’t think he even noticed I was here,” he drawls.

Defensiveness prickles over you. “Don’t think anyone has,” you lightly knock your arms together. “You’ve been quiet tonight”.

“Not my scene,” Shinsou sinks forward, propped up by his elbow, and rests his chin in the cradle of his hand. His heavy lidded eyes never stray. “But I can’t say no to free drinks”.

The barman works the taps in your periphery but you remain focused on Shinsou. There’s a new scar across his cheekbone, right where his persona mask ends. Another over his mouth, a thin line of rough tissue that cuts through his five o’clock shadow. The mass untameable hair on his head has been cut shorter, tapering around his neck.

“Leech”.

“Look who’s talking,” his smirk widens. You watch his gaze slide over your head and dread swirls in your stomach at the gleam in his eye. “I think your nepo baby boyfriend just got here”.

“Not my boyfriend,” you hiss under your breath. He holds his laughter between his teeth. “And don’t call him that!”

Shinsou laughs into his palm, low and rumbling. You hear the fond invocation of your name as the heat of another body appears at your back. Met with brilliant teal and stormy grey, Shouto greets you both apologetically.

Perking up self consciously, you say, “You made it!”

“Hi. Sorry, I got caught up and lost track of time”.

You’re happy to see him. He’s in fitted jeans and a dark button up shirt over an old black turtleneck. Heterochromatic eyes slide from your smiling face to Shinsou’s own disinterest, then drawn to the drinks that have steadily begun to accumulate on the bar counter.

“Ah, let me get you a drink—” you wave over the guy who served you, though it is hardly necessary when he’s already observing. He saunters over with a pint of lager, setting it beside Mina’s garish rainbow concoction.

“Everything alright?”

Squinting at the messy kanji on his name tag, you think you can make it out. Kei, it reads. “Would we be able to add another to the tab? Our friend just made it”.

For some reason Shouto crowds in closer, the cool press of his left side seeping through your shirt. Kei barely pays him any mind. “No problem,” a cold flush crawls across your back when he winks. “Anything for you. What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a highball,” Shouto interjects. You frown at his sudden sharp demeanour, and lean your weight back in hopes of comforting him. The air warms up.

Kei’s enthusiasm fractures imperceptibly, “Alright. Let me get started on that for ya”. Shinsou snorted, his head dipped to his chest and shaking; you think you aren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever this is.

“Shit. You really are petty,” Shinsou speaks up after Kei departs to the other end of the bar. “I always thought Midoriya was exaggerating”.

“Petty?” you echo, squinting at your roommate with a soft pout. Shouto fixes his gaze to the bottles lined across the wall and looks as though he wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“Highballs are tedious to make,” Shinsou turns his back to the bar, leaning against it with his drink in hand. “You definitely chose that on purpose”.

“I didn’t,” Shouto monotoned. “I like whisky”.

“I’ve never seen you drink whisky,” your voice lilts into suspicion. Shouto narrows his eyes, pointedly avoiding yours. A terse beat passes, and you inhale with defeat. “Oh, whatever. Go say hi to the others while we bring the drinks”.

Shouto blanched. “I can help—”

“I’ve already got a big strong man here to help me,” Shinsou scoffed. There’s an umbrella resting on the lip and a purple straw in his mouth. You put a hand on Shouto’s bicep and squeeze, “You need to let Momo know you’re here before she sends out a search party”.

The contact visibly placates him. You watch after him as he makes his way to the booth. Slurred over the low music, he turns the short corner to be met with a cheer in much the same way you had.

“You two are ridiculous,” Shinsou murmurs, amused exasperation clear in his tone. Splitting the drinks into two groups to carry, you ignore his remark and the fondness swirling in your chest.

Kei appears and sets the highball down. A tall glass of liquid gold, three carved ice cubes fizzing at the bottom, a lemon garnish on the rim. “Thank you,” you tell him, pleased when he reciprocates your sheepish grin.

You let Shinsou take it— your hands are already full and slipping. The others have pulled Shouto into the booth and sandwiched him between Denki and Mina, whose distinct voices are overlapping as they try to get a word in.

Denki stops mid sentence as Shinsou slams the drinks onto the table. You do the same, albeit much more carefully. He lists them off one by one, sliding the glasses over to their persons. Shouto’s comes last.

“And in a surprising turn of events we have Todoroki with a japanese highball”.

Shouto accepts the drink with his right hand and a straight face, ignoring the harmonious ‘ooh’ that reverberates around the booth.

Bakugo points his pinky at him, “And since when do you drink whisky?”

Petulantly, Shouto mutters, “Since now”.

Ultimately deciding to pull up a chair, Shinsou sits at the head of the table while you are squeezed on the end beside Bakugo; he side glances, raising his brow in acknowledgement.

“Dude, now that we’re all here, let's have a toast!” Denki exclaims, literal sparks of joy bouncing from his crown. Everybody groans.

“I’ll hear your toast bro,” Kirishima lifts his pint, the wonderful enabler that he is. Shouto meets your gaze across the table and raises his own with a shrug.

“I, uh…” Denki shrinks under the pressure. “I dunno what I was gonna say”.

“To a quick death,” Shinsou proposed, halfheartedly holding his sake in the air.

“Hear hear,” muttered from beside you, Bakugo’s eyes fell closed. You snickered, alcohol weakening your inhibitions as you hook your chin over his shoulder. He allows it.

Momo voices her disapproval and tips her glass, “To good health”.

“To Chargebolt,” Jirou adds, a grin splitting her cheeks, laughter already bleeding into her words. “Seen him at his best, seen him at his worst, and still can’t tell the difference”.

“Oi!”

“To a livable minimum wage!” Uraraka hiccups. All the blood in her body seems to have rushed to her face; expression comically determined, betrayed by her spasming diaphragm. Everyone lifts a glass.

The night crawls on. Another round, then two. Kei refills your glass, never without a flirty comment. You feel thawed from the inside out, a silly smile fixed to your lips. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, from the too-forceful kisses given by Mina, the rough pinch of explosive fingers.

You might as well be engaged in a game of musical chairs; the only one refusing to surrender his spot is Bakugo. Jirou and Momo slink away somewhere private— ‘private’ being behind the vintage jukebox right by the bathrooms— and Kirishima scoots over to wrap you up in a side hug and pushes all the air from your lungs. Uraraka drapes herself across your front. Shinsou surrenders as Mina sits in his lap. Being with them is as innate as breathing.

Maybe you didn’t fight a war together but they still embraced you as their own. And Shouto watches with that terrible, awful, shoujo twinkle in his eyes; you flush hot whenever you catch him, inundated by the desire to reach across and kiss him.

Your pulse is quick and movements slowed. A pleasant buzz circulates around your body. After the third round Shouto begins insisting that you stay put. “Okay,” you conceded tipsily. “Tell Kei I said hi”.

Shouto leaves with a vaguely constipated frown.

Bakugo cackles and refuses to tell you what was so funny. Momo returns to the sight of you clinging to the stubborn hero’s arm, cursing his name. “What are we laughing at?” she muses. You notice a few things first: there’s a fresh bruise on her neck, a button on her dress undone, and a glass of water in her grasp.

Disheveled Momo is a rare treat. You’d tease her about it, if Bakugo did not immediately jump at the opportunity to tease you first. “Just gearhead and halfie being oblivious idiots,” he surmised. Another snort bursts from his nose. “‘Tell Kei I said hi’. Shit. Should’a seen his face”.

“Bakugo,” Momo chides, attempting to disguise her own amusement. “Go easy on them”.

He clicks his tongue, shaking you with a rough shrug of his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel and fuck already”.

Your mood tumbles, dampening as you sulk, “Shouto doesn’t want me like that”.

“Yeah, right. And vice prez didn’t just get fingered by the jukebox”.

“Bakugo!” Momo’s voice is stronger this time. She whips her head toward the other patrons and back, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I did not get… fingered,” she protested with a sharp whisper.

“What’s that?” you feign ignorance, drowsy and loose lipped. “Momo got fingered?!”

Making Bakugo laugh feels a little like winning the lottery; having him throw an arm around you as he does it leaves you dizzy with accomplishment. You curl into his side, shoulders shaking. You mouth an apology across the booth and Momo stretches to take your hand, stressing her forgiveness.

Shouto shatters the jovial atmosphere. He returns stiffly, his glare set in stone, and places a drink you did not order in front of you. After a quick sniff you realise that it’s water.

“Once you’ve drunk that we should head home,” he says. It’s posed as a suggestion but you hear the instruction. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you begin to sip.

Momo’s brow pinches with worry. “Is everything alright, Shouto?”

He breathes harshly through his nose, coming out in a puff of cold air. ”Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry to cut the night short, Momo,” his face softens. “It was good to see you”.

Astonishingly, Bakugo says nothing. His arm snakes from around your back. You finish the water with a big gulp, resurfacing for air. “Done,” you wipe the back of your hand across your lips.

Shouto steadies you while you awkwardly scoot around the booth. Momo gathers you both into a hug, her kind hand stroking the length of your spine. “Text us when you get home”.

“We will,” you promise, saluting as you’re gently pulled away. “See ya on Monday, great explosion murder god dynamite, sir!”

The others have dispersed amongst the small crowd. You mourn not being able to say goodbye to them all. Shouto cinches around your waist and guides you to the door. You can’t complain— instinctively sinking into the embrace, surrounded by his cologne— but you do wonder what the hurry is.

You waded through the mass of people until you both finally made your way out into the open air. The breeze encourages you closer to his front, cold and refreshing in your lungs. Already you feel as if some of your drunken enthusiasm is dissolving.

“Shouto?” his pace slows mercifully, coming to a stop underneath a streetlight. The bulb blinks in five second intervals, dousing him in sickly orange. “Are you mad?”

A warm hand hooks your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye only to avoid looking back. His lips part to speak, and when nothing comes they close. “I’m not mad,” he intoned quietly, thumb skimming over the line of your jaw. Your breath catches.

He seems so… guilty.

“I think you are,” you observe, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You bring his hand down and intertwine it with yours. The alcohol must be making you brave. “But if you’re not ready you don’t need to tell me”.

Some colour returns to his skin. Shouto huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You’re so—” cutting off that train of thought, he tugs you forward and wraps you into a hug. The crook of his neck shields you from the cold, and for a few short moments all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears.

“…Have you ever felt like there are things you want to say but there’s something that always stops you from expressing them?”

You take note of how his grip tightens, warm nose squished into your cheek as if he thought you might run. Shouto is nervous— rather, he’s making himself vulnerable to you. “I have,” you murmur.

He bows his head to burrow into your shoulder, “Then, would you give me the chance to say them?”

What you hear is: will you be patient with me?

“Now?” you ask gently. The light overhead flickers again and your vision swims. You’re realising now that his impulsivity might simply be because he’s drunk. “Don’t you want to talk at home?”

Shouto shakes his head. “If I say it now you can change your mind and go back”.

That’s worrying. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, “…Okay”.

You expect him to let go but he doesn’t, though he does loosen his hold, as if giving you the chance to leave. Following a deep inhale, Shouto solemnly admits, “That guy at the bar. Kei. He asked me to give you his phone number”.

“He did?”

“Yes,” he says.

“So where is it?”

Dread and fatigue curdled in your stomach. You hear the moment Shouto swallows his caution. The atmosphere sours as he admits, “I burned it”.

You step back, leaving his arms limp at his sides. He looks betrayed. Like you’re testing the strength of a promise you don’t recall making. This was not a good time nor place to talk about this.

“My feet hurt,” his eyes widened in confusion. “I’m cold and I’m drunk and my feet hurt, Shouto. I want to go home”.

The request registers slowly. You watch his face fall, gathering a facsimile of a smile. “Okay. Then let’s go home”.

Your chest aches. You want to cry. You scramble for his hand and squeeze it tight, hating the despondent tone in his voice. “We’re too drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” and that seems to lessen the rigidity in his bones.

From then on, the walk is done in heavy silence. Your thoughts are muddied and loud, emotions bouncing back and forth between resentment and uncertainty.

Underneath all of it is a seedling of hope that you daren’t nurture.

The atmosphere clings, following you all the way home, suffocating as you stand a metre apart in front of your respective bedrooms. You bid him goodnight, hand lingering on the handle. Anticipation sits like a stone in your chest.

You lie in bed waiting for him to knock.

He doesn’t.

Next time you open your eyes you wince at the throb behind them; it pings around the inside of your skull and you groan into your pillow.

There’s movement in the apartment. Shouto had always been an early riser. Cold relief washes over you at the confirmation that he was here. Last night filters through your mind. One scene after another you try to make sense of it all.

Kei had been genuinely flirting— you didn’t really think to take it seriously at the time. It was harmless fun, and you figured he was just the type that enjoyed teasing.

Shouto must’ve realised it early on. That was the reason he stepped in and kept you away from the bar. But that didn’t line up right with the reality you knew, because the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour would be that—

You shoot upright, kicking off your covers, and immediately feel it rebound. Thumbs pressed to your temples, you massage firm circles into your skin until the pain dulled.

Holy shit. Shouto was jealous.

A strange blanket of exhaustion settles back over you, as though your muscles have atrophied. You slide down the headboard and stare up at the marks on the ceiling, all sprawled out like dropped skeins of yarn. Suddenly your bedroom was a refuge from an inevitable relationship altering conversation.

Shouto had been jealous of a man vying for your affection. Your Shouto: gentle, placid, considerate, patient, funny, beautiful Shouto.

“Fuck,” you whisper into the emptiness. You can hear the coffee machine brewing in the distance. You’re torn between screaming into your hands and jumping on the bed.

You settle on getting up. Slowly. It’s clear you had been drunker than you thought; your pyjamas are on back to front. You tremble as you slip your arms through the sleeves and right the collar, padding over to the door.

Shouto wanted to talk last night and you stopped him. Guilt gnaws away at you. All that courage was shot down. Pretending to forget about it isn’t an option— you had to do this.

The plan to be stealthy is squandered by the hinge on your door. A harsh squeak reverberates through the apartment. You huff, lowering from your tip toes, and walk towards the kitchen.

Another body enters the hallway. Shouto turns on his heel and nearly drops his mug as you almost collide. Reflexes hammered into him, he catches it in one hand and manoeuvres you away from the hot splash with the other.

“Shit. Did it burn you?” he breathes, bringing your hand up to his mouth. A chilly puff of air blows over your skin and you shiver.

You clear your throat and try to find your voice. “I think you got it. Thank you, Shouto”.

The sound of his name pulls him out of his reverie. You try not to feel hurt when he drops your hand like hot coal. “Sorry,” casting a forlorn look at the half empty mug and the small coffee puddle at his feet. Lips pressed into a thin line, he says, “I was bringing you some coffee. Thought you might need it”.

Delicate tendrils of steam dance and dissipate into the air. You gently cup your hands around his and receive the mug, a small smile pulling at your mouth. His eyes are keen and searching as you take a drink.

“I definitely needed it,” you tell him between sips. The coffee paves a hot path down your throat to your stomach— the warmth spreads, seeking to fill the spaces between. All the earlier fear is washed away.

The time you spend observing one another feels like a short eternity. You watch hope visibly thread into his features, brighter; the way he always should be.

Softly, you ask, “Do you think we could talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” the word comes in a whisper. Head inclining, Shouto nods in one slow motion. Then, louder, “I should clean up, first. Where do you want to…?”

“Where?” you repeat. The thoughts in his head are written plainly across his forehead and you longed to rid him of them. Tilting and raising your brows suggestively, you tease, “Bedroom?”

Shouto gives an amused huff and the remnants of caution are blown away like seeds in a dandelion clock. His steps are lighter, a subtle bounce to them. Light filters into the living room and your spirit is buoyed by giddiness and wonder.

What had you been so afraid of?

You wait in the crook of the L shaped couch, legs curled beneath your body, facing the tall standing windows that overlook the city. Your headache has lessened into a quiet echo.

While he mops up the coffee you finish off the last drops in your cup. You take a moment to appreciate your surroundings. The emptiness you once felt in this room no longer exists. Blankets strewn across the cushions, small crochet coasters, pictures put into frames, books left face down to save the page, things out of place— it felt so lived in.

It felt like home.

You sit up when footfalls approach. Shouto is pretty in the late morning light, under eye shadows and all. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much,” he confesses. His weight shifts before he finally decides on sitting beside you, turning to mirror your posture. “I thought I might’ve messed things up”.

You stretch to put your mug on the coffee table and his eyes follow attentively. “Shouto, you didn’t mess anything up,” he wrings his hands together in his lap, searching your face for dishonesty and finding none. “Though you probably shouldn’t have burned up that guy's number”.

“Probably,” he affirmed. The hair on his left side is pressed flat to his head. You count the creases on his cheek, stopping at the healing bruise on his jaw. The movement of his full mouth draws you back, “I am sorry for that. It was childish of me and I took away your choice”.

You hum, shuffling closer on your knees. Shouto’s expression is beautifully open, and you understand it, because your heart beat is thrumming just the same. “Next time, give me the number so I can ask you to burn it myself”.

Shouto’s fiddling halts. It’s a relief. You thought if he pulled at that hangnail any more he might unravel in front of you. A crease forms between his brows, “What?”

“I don’t want anyone else’s number. I…” losing some of your strength, you close your eyes for a second. Inhale deeply, continuing on an exhale, “Last night, you were jealous”.

It’s not a question. Shouto nods, his hand making an aborted reach for your own but thinking better of it.

You slide your palm against his. Your fingers fill the spaces between his knuckles. Shouto holds on tight and you ask,�� “…Why?”

A nail traces random shapes into his skin. You watch him watching your finger, mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. He steels his resolve, an internal monologue you aren’t privy to. With spine tingling cadence, he says, “Because I’m in love with you”.

You’re not sure what you anticipated. There isn’t much that could prepare you for such a long awaited admission— for something you’d only daydreamed about hearing. The hunger in your heart rears its head, seeing his words as permission to want. To take.

Shouto carries on, incognisant to your plight. “I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. It’s not something I wanted you to worry about”.

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him. “Deciding things for me”.

“I don’t want you to make peace with them. I want you to share them. With me,” Your eyes meet as he peers up. There’s a stray kiss curl by his temple, white and soaking up the sun. He shudders when you twist it gently around your finger. “I love you too, dummy”.

Heat prickles at the back of your neck, feeling the shift in atmosphere. “Oh,” is his eloquent reply. A slow blooming grin pulls at his mouth as the reality sets in.

“Yeah. Oh”. Giddiness bubbles in your chest like water in a wellspring and you let go to cup his face. Shouto leans into the cradle your hands form, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb skims over the scar tissue. His ears are warm.

Guided by fleeting impulses you press a quick kiss to his left eyelid, and he sucks in a shaky breath. You move lower, nose bumping his cheek, to press another to the corner of his mouth.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, feeling like you were on the delicate precipice of something incredible. His mouth turns to chase yours, bicoloured eyes peeking beneath his lashes.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, and it comes like a puff of steam. “On the mouth this time”.

Your lips tremble as you try not to laugh, aligning with his. You kiss him, petal soft and gentle, and feel it when he smiles. Tentative, derived from uncertainty and unfamiliarity.

Shouto’s cool fingers slide around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. Don’t go anywhere. You answer in kind— hands sliding down to his chest to guide him back into the cushions and feel his heart racing as you settle your knees either side of his hips. You barely part for air, and Shouto follows your lead.

“Again,” he mumbles.

The intensity grows. Shouto kisses like it’s his last. Strong arms wrap around your waist, wandering hands mapping out the topography of your body. Somewhere between, your tongue dips into the seam, biting his bottom lip and plucking a whine right from his mouth. Heat flutters low in your abdomen; hips squirm between your thighs, his chest pressed to your own.

“Shouto,” you groan, pushing harder, needing to be closer, threading into the soft hair at the back of his head. Fingers curl into the fat by your hips, they pull, rocking you into his lap. Invigorated, Shouto nips at your lips. Arousal spikes through you at the cool exhale— his tongue slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, wet and cold.

“Fuck, is that—” you pant, head falling back as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your throat. “S’that your quirk?”

He hums an affirmative. The sound is resonant, deep in his chest and satisfied. Smug. You feel the impression of his smile against your jugular. Static fills your brain. Your thighs clench, rutting forward to relieve the ache between your legs, imagining all the things his mouth could do.

At some point you part to catch your breath. Your foreheads come together, sharing awed laughter. Shouto cheeks are pink and there’s a soft smile on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips. His hand moves to cup your jaw, rubbing small circles into the cheekbone.

“We should… slow down…” his chest heaves, eyes swallowed by his pupils. They fall to his lap, right where you’re pressed to his cock. You file away the lazy slur in his voice and wonder if that’s where all his blood went. “…I want to do this properly”.

Figures that he would have more willpower than you; though you get the sense if you pushed, he’d give, and every surface in the apartment would see you laid out. Gathering your thoughts is made much more difficult as he kneads at your thigh, heedless to your struggle.

“Okay baby,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his brow bone. His ears turn red and you’re alight, “You like that?”

Shouto tucks his grin against your shoulder. Like before, he locks both arms around your back and holds you close. You comb your fingers through his hair, overlapping white and red, a long tender moment passing.

“You love me,” he whispered apprehensively. Then again, thick with wonderment. “You love me”.

It’s unbelievable to him— and that’s unbelievable to you. Shouto is easy to love, moreso than anyone you have ever met. All clandestine glances, soft spoken words and inside jokes; a book of every witty little thing you’ve said, keeping your words close, giving importance to the things you enjoy; he’s gag gifts and thoughtfulness and open arms, the reason all your hot drinks never go cold, he’s the cream that never melts. He’s home.

You cradle him to your chest with no intention of letting go. The sun crawls higher, casting a warm blanket over your shoulders.

“I do,” you reply. “How could I not?”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

3K notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 8 months ago

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Let's play who's the sidepiece?, Aegon has half of King's Landing and his sister has one (1) man, humor, strong themes of sexism/patriarchy/gender roles, infidelity but casual?, jealous jealous jealous Aeg, who is also a self-absorbed idiot, Aemond just wants peace, pnv!sex, Incest need I say more, manipulation, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (m!receiving), a bit toxic at the end but they do love each other.

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @thought--bubble

Divider by @saradika

Aegon was suspicious. Sure, he fucked whenever and however he wanted. Regardless of outside activities, something was off in his meticulously planned life. Planned by others, of course, he couldn't give a rat's ass. The prince just had been wed to his sister, the less strange one. She was suspiciously…competent in bed. He could swear she was supposed to be a maiden. She was- bled during the bedding ceremony when he first fucked her.

But the way she rode his cock was good. Too good. Aegon knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, it was eating him up. She even gave fantastic head! Who the fuck had taught her that? He narrowed his eyes at her, the fellow blonde looking bored at supper.

Aegon took a swig of his wine, eyes dark as he studied her. Maybe if he looked long enough someone would jump up and act jealous. What if she was secret fuckmates with his nephew? Aegon had a vague memory of a sordid rumor regarding Jacaerys Velaryon's horse cock. He would kill himself, truly. He could imagine the letter, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t take that shame, yes I know I live in constant shame, but this was the final straw.”

His sister-wife was staring now. She raised a brow in question. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Aegon grumbled, “Nothing. Just looking. Can’t have a look, alright then.”

She scoffed, “You can look, but you’re looking as if you’re about to eat my face.”

Oh. Aegon blushed in embarrassment. He drank more wine, mumbling a ‘sorry’. He didn’t want to broach the subject at supper. The prince’s damn family was nosy enough as is, he didn’t need Aemond’s big ass nose in his ear. Or one of those frightful looks from Alicent. If Aegon got lectured by Otto or Criston he would consider stabbing himself.

Aegon mulled over what he should do next between bites of mutton. She obviously wasn’t going to the Street of Silk, because that was his domain. Someone would’ve peeped already. He reluctantly knew when Daemon was visiting. Every. Damn. Time. Why would Aegon want to hear about the fuckhead's potency issues?

Mayhaps he should get her on the cusp of orgasm and demand who her secret lover-teacher-whatever was. That seemed sound enough to Aegon. When he was about to nut? One could ask him anything, there would be an answer. The prince smiled enigmatically, laughing to himself.

To which his sister-wife said, “You’re acting strange tonight.”

Aegon cooed, “Sorry, just dreaming a bit.”

Under the table he put a lecherous hand on her thigh, squeezing over her soft dress. His sister blushed and squirmed, fork awkwardly clanking across the plate. The woman hissed, “Okay I get it!” She cleared her throat, ignoring any stares. Aegon smirked and squeezed a bit higher, plump lips splitting into a grin.

Aegon had immediately crowded her smaller frame in the bedroom, plush lips attacking her neck, impatient hands pulling at her dress. She moaned, walking backward into the bed, yelping when Aegon crawled atop. He murmured, “You looked ravishing tonight, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh, huh, the clasps you fool,” she groaned.

Aegon huffed, probably tearing the fabric as he separated the back of the dress. She began to shuck the dress off while he awkwardly pulled off his breeches. They giggled a bit making eye contact; Aegon unbuttoning his tunic and her unlacing the corset. Soon they were both naked, grinning and kissing, her soft skin rubbing against his.

Aegon grabbed her thighs, mouthing at a tit and playfully nipping at it. She squeaked, thighs tightening around his waist, throwing long blonde hair back. His wife cried out, “Aegon! Quit playing!” He pulled off her nipple, murmuring between little kisses, “Why, is the princess needy?”

He slipped a ringed finger between her folds, finding her wetter than expected. Aegon dipped into her cunt, laughing, “Ah she is, little whore.” The princess writhed a bit, leaning up to capture his lips, lapping into his mouth hungrily. The prince returned her eager movements, curling his fingers into her pussy, letting her ride his hand.

“Fuck, you’re a doll,” he swore, “Perfect.”

She whined and arched up into him, hips canting on his hand. Aegon used his other hand to play with her sensitive tits, thumb circling around a budded nipple. She shivered and cried his name again, a pretty blush diffusing across her pallid skin. The prince hummed “Are you going to come for me sweetling? So soon?”

“Ngh, please, yes Aegon!”

He sped up his movements, feeling her tighten and twitch, the princess on the precipice. Aegon moaned before gathering himself, his pulsing cock was scrambling relative coherency. As it did. He panted, “Gonna count down and I want you to let go okay? Then I’ll fuck your pretty cunt.”

She nodded with lidded eyes, mouth hung open. The picture of ecstasy. Aegon smirked as he spoke.

…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Oh gods Aegon!”

“Who are you fucking!”

She writhed through the helpless orgasm, confusion evident on her twisting features. Aegon couldn’t help but throb AND be quite annoyed. He slurped the juices off his fingers, leaning back with a look. The prince was feeling sullen and not sure if he wanted to play anymore. His wife stared up at him and echoed “Who…am I fucking. What?”

Aegon pouted. This didn’t go to plan. He rolled his eyes and explained, “You excel, frighteningly so, at our bedroom activities. Yes, yes I know you were still a maiden at our wedding. But I am onto you, I don't know much but I do know about fucking, dearest."

“Are you kidding me? This is ludicrous Aegon!”

She had sat up now, crossing her arms, lips pouty. The prince stated as if it was obvious, “You know your way around a cock. Obviously, this comes with experience. I’ve bedded many a maiden and they usually just stare until you flip them over. So who’s the secret mentor?”

She scoffed in horror, cheeks reddening further, “I can’t believe this Aegon! You’re an idiot! I’m not fucking anyone else! Unlike you!”

“Lies you tell, no spring maiden has gargled my balls!” he accused, face growing equally red in frustration, ringed finger pointing at her.

His sister grew quiet, looking away. She mumbled “Fine. Do you want to know who it is so bad? This stays between us.”

Aegon nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to come out with it. She seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Then spit out a name so low and fast he couldn’t hear. Tonight might be the night he explodes. The prince groaned, “Oh my gods, just say it in a normal tone!”

“Larys Strong!”

What?

He burst into laughter. The prince guffawed, clutching his stomach, shaking with humor. She gaped “What? I’m not lying!” Aegon laughed some more thinking about the foot monger, he’s a bigger virgin than anyone in the keep. He breathlessly chuckled, “Good one, yeah right dear.”

She began to pull on her chemise, annoyed now. Aegon grasped at her thigh, pleading between fits of giggles, “I don’t know why you’re hiding this? I don’t care who you go and find pleasure with. Unless it’s truly Larys. C’monnnn love don’t leave.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. You’re making up things. What if I’m just good at carnal activities hm Aegon? You're an ass!”

Aegon contemplated the possibility, “Sure, that could be true. Now stop being huffy and come here. I said I’d fuck your pretty pussy.”

She stared down at him before taking her chemise back off. The princess hissed, “You’re a right asshole you know that? You better fuck me good. Prick.”

Aegon laughed again, cheeks hurting from his fit of humor. He maneuvered her onto all fours, sliding his cock against her still-wet folds. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, nosing sweet-smelling hair. He placed a hand on her tight stomach, humming, “I’m sorry dear, I’ll make it better Hm?” He slid in, watching her pretty eyes roll up in her head.

Aegon still wanted to know who his sister was fornicating. She probably was still seeing this person. All he knew was that they resided in the Red Keep and certainly not Larys Strong. The prince had to open his mind to the possibilities of women too. There were many a pretty handmaiden who tended to his wife.

He frowned in thought, sipping his wine. Aegon sat next to his stiff bitch of a brother in the library of all places. Secretly, Aegon hoped the knowledge in the room would give him some magical foresight gift- but not that weird shit Helaena did sometimes.

His wife fucking a handmaiden- that felt too overt. He’d only seen his sister gag and moon over visiting knights and lordlings. Next to Aegon sat his irritated brother. Aemond was quiet, too quiet. He and their sister got along quite well? Aegon's eyes turned to his not-so-little brother.

“Aem.”

“Why are you speaking to me? I’m trying to read.”

“I have a question. That's why, you frozen-faced ass.”

Aemond picked his head up and glared, slamming his book closed. He huffed “What, oh, what, could your drunkenness possibly ask from me? No, I’m not covering your ass again.”

Aegon snorted. His brother was such a frigid quim. He acted like Criston Cole, peacocking around the place, chip on their shoulder. The elder asked “Look. I’ll just be blunt with you. Our sister, my wife. She is merely too good in the sack. Are you fucking her? Is she fucking you?”

Aemond’s jaw audibly clicked in annoyance. He struggled over his tongue, face red. The second son stood up, slamming his hands on the stone. He retreated with a swish of hair and growled, “Buffoon.”

Aegon called after him, “Your behavior has not marked you off my list!”

"Fuck you and your list! Drunkard!!"

Icy little prick. Aegon rolled his eyes, pondering on his next target. Perhaps Jason Lannister? He was wooing any Targaryen princess for his sons. Or possibly Ser Arryk, her sworn shield. Aegon would go to them next. Then maybe do a night check on Aemond’s quarters. His wife was busy with their mother all day anyway. How boring.

Safe to say the prince was still vexed. Jason Lannister laughed in his face and Ser Arryk was extremely confused. He replied in that dumb voice of his, “The princess and I? I’m not that simple your grace. Some of us Kingsguard do take our vows seriously, although I can’t say the same for others.”

He refused to elaborate afterward, Aegon throwing his hands up and moving to the next destination. While walking, he pondered Arryk’s words. Could it be another Kingsguard? Maybe Erryk? Criston had already used up his one allotted Princess fucking and it turned him sour. Erryk would stay on Aegon’s list, the other men too plain ugly or on Dragonstone.

Too annoyed to try any decorum, Aegon simply kicked Aemond’s door open. The younger prince squawked in shock, his hair flying around. Why was there a portrait of Daemon? Why was there another half-finished portrait of Aemond obviously in the same style? Aegon spluttered, “What the fuck? You’re so weird! Daemon? Blech brother!”

Aemond, hair tied back and wearing simple clothes smudged with paint— was positively furious. He hollered, “Get the hell out! I’m not fornicating with our sister! She’s your wife! Say a word of this and I’m making you a Eunuch!”

Aegon was booted out, literally, as in Aemond’s big fucking boot kicked him in the arse.

“Should’ve known. Weirdo,” Aegon grumbled.

He limped back to his quarters, dreadfully needing a sip of wine and someone’s lips around his cock. Today was dreadful. He actually tried to do something. Which trying was rare for him! The prince went to open his door, only to step back when Ser Criston exited.

He raised a brow. Criston looked at him blankly, dark eyes placid. Aegon asked, “What were you doing?” The Kingsguard scoffed, “Your sister was having a fit about a spider, I heard her yowling and killed said spider. Goodnight my prince.”

Aegon glared at the surly marcher, shaking his head and entering the chambers. He immediately went to the table and drank straight from the bottle, deep, deep pulls of relief. The blonde placed it down and sighed, turning towards his bed.

His wife sat there, eyes wide, wearing only her askew shift. Aegon bitched, “Oh. Nice to see you too. Maybe a ‘Hello lord husband, how are you?’ would suffice.”

The Princess’ cheeks were pink. He guessed from the embarrassment of having Ser Criston kill a small bug. Then explained again why Ser Criston had to kill a small bug. She mumbled, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were at the brothels.”

Aegon plopped down in a chair, grabbing the bottle. He whined, “Nope! Been trying to find out who your mystery lover is all day. No one wants to pipe up! I should’ve gone.”

She gazed downwards, biting on swollen lips. The princess stood up on shaky legs, making her way to Aegon and kneeling between his lax thighs. She hummed, tracing a finger up one, feeling the muscle twitch. His sister mused, “Can I take your mind off this mystery lover? You’re much more desirable to me. Don't they say the blood of the dragon reaches out to another?”

“Sure, definitely” he whined again. Aegon would pout this out, it was his specialty. He honestly was hurt, why couldn’t he know their identity? Sure he’d get jealous and probably ban her from seeing them but still! He was sad!

“Am I that unappealing to you?” he whimpered, tears pricking at violet eyes, frustration and self-pity leaking over.

She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The princess laid her head upon his thigh and cooed, “No. You’re my husband, my blood, we are a union now. That partnership…started because I was afraid you would find me boring. So I wanted to know how to please a man.”

Aegon sulked and sniffled some more, taking another deep drink from his goblet. The familiar fuzz was coming along nicely, patching up his insecurities. But it was nice to hear her admit a smidgeon of truth. She kissed his leg and continued, “Aegon dear, have I not pleased you? It was a transaction between the person and me. They wished to make their identity a secret so as not to catch your wroth. I no longer see them like that. I hate that you’re upset, I did this for you.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a bit better. His sister was good. She easily melted his pouting protocol. The female Targaryen rubbed his thighs and moved her mouth to hover over his clothed cock, eyes looking up as she breathed, “Now baby, just relax and let me make this better, hm?”

He moaned softly as she mouthed over his swelling member, nimble fingers untying his breeches, other hand massaging the soft flesh and meat of his thigh. She eased Aegon’s cock and his sac out, groaning with a flutter of her long lashes. The prince squirmed a bit, breathing heavier, holding off a whine.

“Just you and me, sweet baby.”

She was increasingly convincing kitten licking the ruddy head of his prick like that. The girl’s dainty hand wrapped around his length, the other going to hold his balls, keeping them nice and compressed. Aegon’s back arched when she eased him into a silky wet mouth, tongue massaging the underside as his wife hollowed her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Aegon responded with a noise he’d rather not dwell on. It was very…emasculating. Gods, she was so good at this. He needed to get over his qualms and just fuck her so good the princess wouldn't stray again. Good and obedient- all for Aegon. He eased her off gently, demanding, "Lay across the bed. Now."

Wide purple eyes stared at him. She murmured, "What? I- I don't need that, let me take care of you."

Aegon shook his head, grinning, the drink emboldening him. Something about Arbor Red made him impossibly aroused and giddy. He jerked his chin toward the plush bed and laughed. His sister got up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She padded and leaned her body over the bed, long legs spread, chemise discarded to display her swollen cunt to him.

Aegon pulled off his breeches as he stalked over, eyes drinking in her pussy. He smacked a hand across her ass and grabbed the stinging flesh. He asked roughly "Did your mystery lover sneak out the servant's exit when Ser Criston heard your yowling?"

"Yes, yes! Sorry, fucking yes!" she shouted.

Aegon's face darkened at her puffy and slick cunt, obvious signs of someone having a feast down there. He ran the blunt tip of his swollen cock across her folds, groaning as he smacked her clit. The prince snapped "You're a goddamn lying slut you know that? A match made in heaven with me huh? Did Ser Criston walk in when you were getting your cunt licked?" He wound a fist in her blonde tresses, pulling it tight.

She shivered and shook her head, whining, "N-ohh, he didn't see!"

"Hm, sure, probably took a peak, the weird bitch. Whatever, I guess I'll have to fuck this person out of your mind? Or you're coming with me to the brothels sister dearest."

He slid into her tight hole, gasping at the ridges and warmth. Aegon tightened the fist in her hair. Maybe he'd fuck a babe in her tonight, then she'd be stuck in his quarters surrounded by maesters and tittering handmaidens. Eugh. Aegon huffed and fucked her at a brisk pace, his other hand smacking her ass every other thrust.

His sister-wife moaned, taking his cock like she was made for it. She fucked back onto him, back arched, tits bouncing. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed as she panted Aegon's name, eyes wet and wide. Aegon leaned over her form and growled, "Don't know who this fucker is but I will find out. He better know whose cunt this is, eh? Shout it, tell the whole goddamn keep who you belong to, sister."

Aegon relished in her little whimper, his fingers pinching her clit as he forced her hips up to drive into her good spot harder. He bit and lapped at her neck, hissing, "C'mon and say it or I'll lock your ass up here with no visitors. Just me and I'll get my fill, fucking snake." She blubbered, seizing around his cock a hair.

"Oh gods, please don't make me howl like that, Aegon, please!"

He fucked the princess rougher, holding her gaze with a tight grip around her chin. She bit her lip, eyes mournful before shouting, "Only you Aegon, I belong to you, yes big brother! Yes! I belong to my husband!"

Aegon grinned like the cat that got the cream. He cooed, "Good little sister, knew you still had it in you." He gripped her throat and refocused on fucking her until she cried. Aegon pinched and licked, played with her tits, circled her clit until she came all over him- yet the prince was still fit to go. Sweet sister was a mess now- covered in bites and hickeys, sweaty hair plastered to her neck. The younger blonde whimpered, "Aeg- Aegon, I- I can't possibly do this again!"

Her eyes were frantic, her cute body shaking and coming apart wondrously. Aegon hummed, "You will come for me again sweetling. I know you can, just whining on my prick like you were paid for it? Does he fuck you like this huh? Make you see stars?"

"N-noooo, only you!"

"Good girl, come on now, wanna feel that sweet pussy of yours cream around me one more time. Then I'll fill you up deep- maybe he won't come around when you are all ripe with," he punctuated his next words with thrusts, "My. Goddamn. Child."

The princess wailed softly, overused and overstimulated. She felt the crest of another burning orgasm flaring up and forcing red hot tears down her blotchy cheeks. It was intense and she cried harder when Aegon's thick seed stuffed her twitching cunt and womb to the brim. He seemed to be satisfied now, cooing at her, "There we go, ffuck, that's my sweet girl. See, don't need anyone else around now hm?"

Aegon wiped her gorgeous tears, smiling victoriously. She cuddled into his arms, letting her husband soothe and stroke her trembling flesh. He even hollered for a servant to grab some water. The prince murmured, "You did so good, such a good wife, yes, maybe just a bit of punishment does sweet sister well." He grew quieter and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead, "I love you, truly, for tolerating a failure like me."

She smiled softly and pecked Aegon's full lips, her own swollen from tonight. Aegon wiped her tears as she sighed, "I love you too Aegon. Buffoon you may be. I hope the seed takes. No more about mystery lovers. The whole keep has heard now sweetheart."

Aegon smirked, hoping every single soul heard.

One soul in particular did, his black gloves tightening in annoyance. He was down the hall before turning back and having to hear the heir...rudely fuck his sister-wife. With a growl and swish of the cloak, the true mystery lover was gone. She'd be back in his arms sooner or later. Aegon couldn't fuck him out of her soft heart.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x sister!reader #aegon ii imagine #the very obvious sidepiece lmfao

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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reiderwriter 5k writing challenge

hello, my lovelies, and thank you so much for 5k followers~♡ it's been just under a year since I started writing on here, and it's been so fun interacting with everyone and writing for Spencer and the other members of the BAU team! I was a bit unprepared for some of my other milestones and threw some stuff together last minute for them, but I've been thinking about a writing challenge for a while and I finally decided to do it!

Please note: This is a writing challenge! All the prompts below are meant to inspire you to write your own fics and not as prompt requests for me. I hope you can use them as a starting point to write~♡

The theme for the challenge is:

daydreams and shooting stars`☆

There are two sets of prompts to choose from! The daydreams' prompts are based on classic fanfiction tropes that we know and live, and the shooting stars prompts are based on the zodiac signs. There are 12 prompts in each list, and you're welcome to mix and match prompts as you like! Maybe you'd like to combine your star sign with your favourite trope, or two particularly match well, or if you like a single prompt, you can just write for that. I don't mind if the fic is only very loosely based on the prompt, too, do whatever you'd like!

The writing challenge will run up until my 1 year writing anniversary, July 27th, so you have plenty of time to get your fics in! I'll be reblogging all the entries, and at the end, I'll add them to a recommendation list! Be sure to tag @reiderwriter in your fic, or use the hashtag #reidersdaydreams or #reidersshootingstars in your tags! I'll be tracking both~♡ You can submit as many entries as you like!

Rules for submissions will be at the end. Please read them before submitting~♡

without further ado, here are the prompt lists~☆

DAYDREAMS

ONLY ONE BED - a true classic in the sense that I will be reading only one bed fics down to the second I take my last breath. Feel free to invert this to "too many beds," or even "no beds at all, but somehow we're still cuddling," either way, I will read it and likely enjoy it greatly.

GRUMPY X SUNSHINE - which character is grumpy, which character is sunshine? my favourite grumpy x sunshine dynamics are the gloomy character trying their best to become more sunny after a tough life 🫡

FAKE DATING - we, in the criminal minds fandom, have written possibly every undercover mission possible to make our characters make out, but I'm coming in as a simple woman to ask - please do it again 🫶

OH. OH. - the plot revelations! Give me them! The sudden moments of clarity! I'm a fan, goddammit.

IDIOTS IN LOVE - there is nothing better than two huge dumbasses falling head over heels in love with each other in an "aw shucks" kind of way. Also, I'm an idiot, representation matters.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE - coffee shop AU? Soulmate AU? HANAHAKI AU? If someone could please un- or re- traumatise my favourite characters I will be eternally grateful

SECRET IDENTITY - give the character their Emily Prentiss Lauren Reynolds moment, or just make them dress like a clown for like 30 minutes. Both count.

MUTUAL PINING - This harkens back to idiots in love, but it's about the LONGING, it's about the PITIFUL STARES, it's about the BURNING PASSION.

SECRET RELATIONSHIP - my love of gossip makes me a sucker for secret relationship stories because I truly want to be in everyone's business. Character A and B are dating? Brilliant. It's a secret? BRILLIANT.

SICK FIC - your poor little meow meow has a cold. Or your poor little meow meow has been poisoned with anthrax. Or your poor little meow meow is dealing with possible symptoms of schizophrenia. Or your poor little meow meow has been shot-

PSYCHO X PSYCHO - reidams fans, this one's for you 🥰

ENEMIES TO LOVERS - half of my requests are enemies to lovers requests! Feel free to include rivals to lovers, lovers to enemies, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, or any such dynamic that your heart desires.

SHOOTING STARS:

Aries - "I burn for you. I can't sleep at night for wanting you. It's the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is."

Taurus - "There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."

Gemini - "There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne, it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting."

Cancer - "I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."

Leo - "There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion."

Virgo - "They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."

Libra - "Somehow, we'll find it. The balance between whom we wish to be and whom we need to be. But for now, we simply have to be satisfied with who we are."

Scorpio - "She didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived."

Sagittarius - "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."

Capricorn - "There's a low-level, specific pain and having to accept that putting up with you requires a certain generosity of spirit in your loved ones."

Aquarius - "An education was a bit like a communicable sexual disease. It made you unsuitable for a lot of jobs, and then you had the urge to pass it on."

Pisces - "I think it's perfectly acceptable and rather admirable to be moderately delusional."

Rules:

I'm accepting reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fics for this challenge. It can feature any Criminal Minds character or any character from any fandom you write for. I assume a lot of people will stick with CM, but feel free to write for whoever you choose!

Please tag me in your entries or send the link to me in a DM. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge. Again, the tags I'm tracking are #reidersdaydreams and #reidersshootingstars ♡

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I will not endorse, nor do I want to read smut written by minors. I will check the ages of accounts posting smut.

For smut or angst fics that could include triggers, please include a content warning above the fic so we can be aware before reading!!

Enjoy!!

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villainbait · 2 months ago

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Unexpected Savior

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, angst, canon sylus behavior Summary: An encounter in the no-hunt zone goes wrong and when all seems hopeless, your savior isn't the person you expected. Word Count: >500

A hand harshly covers your mouth and you're jerked against a body much larger than your own, their heat seeping into your back. The familiar voice makes you stiffen but you don't struggle after hearing his whispered warning into your ear.

"Quiet."

The horrifying, ethereal sound of an angry wanderer pierces the silence and you slump against Sylus; grateful that he’s here. It wasn’t who you expected to save you from the wanderers in this no-hunt zone, but Sylus’s presence was comforting in a way you could never fully explain. You had been running from the wanderer that claimed this no-hunt zone as its own, its metaflux fluctuations far stronger than anticipated and that had made you careless.

Once he’s certain the danger has passed, he lets you go and you sink back down into your hiding spot. He unpacks the supplies he brought and helps patch you up best he can.

“At least now you can’t run from me for a while,” Sylus teases as he wraps your ankle and you glare. You try to kick him with your injured foot, but he rubs his thumb along the soft arch of your foot and it leaves you gasping instead.

You ignore him. “I can still fight.”

“I know you can sweetie, but did you stop to think about whether you should?” A frown accompanied his words and you realized Sylus was actually angry with you. It tempered your own frustration and you stopped fighting him.

It was hard to argue anyway when you had lost this much blood. “I don’t want to leave you alone to fight them.”

“Are you actually worried about me?” He sounds surprised, but his expression is inscrutable.

“Only because if you die here, I do too.” You huffed and he laughed, shucking your chin with your fingers before standing. His gaze lingers on your face until you’re forced to look away, your heart aching uncomfortably from the way he looks at you. It makes you think of all the things still left unsaid and unanswered between the two of you and how you almost died today if Sylus had not come for you.

“It’s adorable how you think anything other than you could hurt me,” he murmurs with far too much confidence. He glances back, making sure you’re as safe as you can be with Mephisto perched on your shoulder. “Stay here. It won’t take long.”

The dense fog seems to welcome him as he disappears into it and your protests are lost to the wind. You slump against the smooth rock with a sigh and do your best not to focus on the pain from your injuries, your gaze trained on the spot where Sylus had disappeared. You couldn’t hear anything except the soft mechanical whirl of Mephisto on your shoulder and the rhythmic pounding of your heart in your ears.

…Sylus would come back, wouldn’t he?

#sylus #man a story where sylus doesn't come back and MC thinks he abandoned her but really he just “died” would be heartbreaking #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace #fanfiction #drabble #fic drabble #does sylus come back?#dearly beloved

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joonsmagicshop · 1 year ago

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Friend or Fuck

Summary: A drunken night leads to a good morning.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader. Jungkook and reader are friends, All the boys are mentioned.

Word Count: 8k

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: Drinking, mentions of throwing up, drunk talk, smut, fingering, dirty talk, someone is a cock blocker, cum eating, Namjoon's back

Author Note: um hi! It has been a while since I've written fanfiction but this idea would not leave me alone so here we are! If you enjoy let me know and there mayyyy be a part two

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

The party was in full swing by the time Jungkook had pulled up to Jimin's house in his sleek black car. Of course, Jimin seemed to invite the whole neighborhood so Jungkook circled around the subdivision until he found a parking spot two blocks down from the giant house and loud music.

You let out a small sigh as Jungkook put the car into park and flipped his visor down to check his hair one more time, his tongue darting out to lick at his lip ring, something he did when he was excited...or nervous.

You looked out the window and wrapped your arms around yourself staring out into the dark October night. You certainly didn't dress to walk this many blocks, you instantly regretted the choice of a little black dress and heels.

“Y/N no getting cold feet now, you promised.” Your friend reminded you as he flipped the visor up and stared you down, his dark eyes gleaming in the glow of the overhead street lights and sending a small reassuring smile your way. He knew you didn't really want to go to this party but you had promised you'd go to the next one months ago and regretted it when Jungkook reminded you of that promise a couple nights prior.

The air was bitingly cold and Jungkook shucked off his leather jacket to give to you. You wrapped it around your body as you made your way up the street inhaling his spicy cologne.

“Come on it's going to be fun! We haven't been to a party in ages!” He said trying to hype you up as you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be skipping down the street in excitement and you shook your head.

“What do you mean we? Kook, you were partying with the guys last weekend. I would know, I got the call from Jin at one in the morning.” You teased with a smile as Jungkook flashed you an embarrassed grin

“Okay smarty pants well you haven't been to a party in a while, I miss hanging with you at these things and I know the boys miss you too.” He replied with a shy smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold.

Before you can argue he speaks again.

“You have been so stressed with work and life...I just want you to have a fun night that's all.”

You smiled. Jungkook was your best friend and knew you better than most people. Sure a party was not your way to unwind and relax but it would be nice to see everyone again, and it did feel nice to dress up. Your dress had been sitting in your closet for far too long without being worn, and even though you weren't wearing the most comfortable heels you did feel beautiful.

“Will I even see you with all your fan girls around?” You tease bumping into him playfully on the sidewalk as Jungkook blushes and shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes.

Without fail, at almost every party a group of girls take him away from you. Jungkook is too polite to say no and usually will shake them off within an hour or so, sometimes he's less successful and you won't see him for most of the night.

“You know Taehyung is going to be there” He teases back as you roll your eyes.

“Kook.” You warn.

“Come on!”

“No. We aren't having this conversation.”

“He's a good guy”

“I know.”

“And it's been what? Two years.”

“Kook...drop it.”

“And we both heard the stories about him. His fingers. His mouth.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim as you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment as he chuckles beside you. You reach out to smack his arm which only makes him laugh harder.

“Okay okay, so maybe not Taehyung but it has been two years. You can date whenever you are ready I just want you to be happy that's all! A party full of people, possibly single people. Might be good for you, you know?”

You pondered over his words as Jimin's house came into view.

“I am happy Jungkook. I have a good job and good friends. I'm all good. Super good.” You answer trying to avoid his gaze.

This wasn't the time or place for this conversation. Sure you were a good enough liar, telling everyone that you were too busy focusing on yourself and your job to date. Sure, most of the time you did love being single but there were those times when you were in a crowd or around coupled-up people and you realized how alone you truly were. It had been two years since you dated someone since you were intimate with someone. It was a messy breakup and you convinced yourself you were better off single.

Jungkook steps in front of you and lightly grabs your arms stopping you in your tracks.

“There were too many goods in that sentence for me to believe you. I'm going to drop it because we don't need sad faces before we go to this party I want you to have fun. Promise me you will have some fun tonight. Please.” He says staring you down.

You nod.

“And if you fuck someone please wear protection I'm not ready to be an honorary uncle.”

You smack his arm again as you both walk up the driveway and can already hear the music thumping from inside.

You hand him back his jacket at the door as he knocks and Jimin opens it with a big grin and open arms.

Your jaw drops as you take in Jimin's house. The entrance is huge with high ceilings and a large staircase leading upstairs. People are everywhere and the music is so loud you can feel the vibrations throughout your body

“Nice huh?” Jimin teases as a couple of girls come up, not even noticing you as they hug Jungkook and practically drag him away. He shoots you an apologetic look over his shoulder as he is dragged into the crowd and within an instant disappears among all the people.

You grit your teeth. Not only did you not want to go to this party you now lost Jungkook for who knows how long. Luckily Jimin was still hanging by your side.

“New record I think? What was that like three seconds?” You ask Jimin as he throws back his head and laughs.

He loops an arm around you and gives you the house tour. He shows you the massive kitchen where it seems like most of the alcohol is located, spread out on the kitchen table and counters. People are mulling about and a giant stack of red solo cups sits right in the center of the table which looks sticky with spilled drinks.

Jimin shows you the dining room and the living room where Jungkook is already seated on a squishy-looking couch surrounded by some girls who seem to look at him like he hung the stars. There are two girls on each side of him and one at his feet. You chuckle as he makes eye contact with you and mouths a “sorry” You just shake your head and wave him off. You knew this would happen away.

Jimin leads you to a corner where Jungkook's friends are hanging out. You knew them all fairly well and greeted them with a smile as Jimin brought you over and gave you a little twirl as an entrance.

“Y/N long time no see!” Jin exclaims as he wraps you in a tight hug with has you gasping for breath. His eyes are gleaming as he throws an arm around your shoulders and you take in the other guys in front of you.

Namjoon is standing there keeping an eye on everyone, as usual, Yoongi shoots you a small smile before going back to his phone. You lock eyes with Taehyung and feel yourself blush. He does look good tonight wearing all black and his dark hair is fluffy and falling in front of his eyes.

He shoots you a boxy grin and you smile back as you break eye contact and scan the crowd for familiar faces.

“Where's Jungkook?” Namjoon asks as he scans the crowd as well.

You start looking around for Jungkook through the crowd so you miss Namjoon's eyes on you, taking in your short black dress and heels.

“The girls got him three seconds!” Jimin teases as he shakes his head and the other boys laugh. You feel yourself lighten up with them around and join in on their laughter as you explain how the two of you hardly got through the door before he was dragged away.

“He dragged you to this party and didn't even get you a drink. We have to teach him manners.” Tae says catching your gaze as his eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Come on Y/N let's get you something.” Jimin offers as he takes your arm and Tae follows the both of you into the kitchen.

Before you know it you are handed a red cup, not even bothering to see what was in it, you take a drink. The alcohol burns your throat but there is a fruity aftertaste that makes it tolerable. You see some people you recognize and start to talk to them, just catching up on life. Jimin excuses himself as the doorbell rings but Taehyung stays by your side as you catch up with some old friends.

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

The night goes on and you start to feel better...a lot better. All the anxiety about the party has dissolved, instead, it is replaced with a soft fuzzy almost giddy feeling. Or maybe that was the booze.

Taehyung had made sure your cup was always filled and kept you close most of the night. He was your saving grace honestly because Jungkook had not reappeared after the girls had dragged him away and even though you had scanned the crowd multiple times you still couldn't spot him anywhere.

You were now seated at a tall bar stool in the kitchen talking to some girls you had just met tonight when you realized your cup was empty. You frowned. All night it had not been empty and now it was? You looked up and scanned the room for Taehyung, your bartender for the night but you couldn't find him. He was just gone? When did he leave? How long had you not noticed?

Everything felt blurry and kind of fuzzy as you continued to look through the crowd, which at this point was more a blur of color than real people. Since when did the kitchen get so crowded? And where was Tae?

You decided to walk around the party to see if you could find him or any of the guys. You put the cup down on the island next to you and tried to slide off the stool but in your drunken state, you stumbled and nearly hit the floor if it wasn't for a strong set of arms holding you steady.

At first, you thought it was Taehyung, who had finally come to find you but as you looked up you realized you were looking at Namjoon. He held you close and had an unwavering stare that made you nervous. His dark hair was falling into his eyes and he looped an arm around your waist to hold you steady, his hands hot on your side.

You fumbled and finally got your feet on the floor as he practically hoisted you up. You leaned on him for support and tried to thank him but you were having a hard time with words at the moment and you frowned, your cup was still empty.

“Y/N You okay.” He asked as you nodded, knowing if you spoke it would give away how not okay you were at the moment. God, how many drinks did Tae give you? You had lost count but then again after the second one you stopped counting anyway.

“Yeah, I just. Bathroom-need-the yeah. Bathroom.” You stammered as you felt hot under his piercing gaze. You broke from his grip and searched the house for a bathroom, stumbling along and bumping into people. You wondered if the amount of people doubled since the start of the party as it felt harder to navigate.

You vaguely remember Jimin showing you a bathroom that was right off the kitchen but as you opened the door it turned out to be a pantry.

God, how drunk were you?

You continued to navigate through the party eventually finding a bathroom up the stairs and down a hallway. Once inside you locked the door and placed your hands on the cold sink. You stared at your reflection in the mirror which was slightly swaying and you brought your face close to the mirror inspecting yourself.

You thought about the events of the night that led you here. How Jungkook still had not returned to your side, how Taehyung had stayed with you the whole night, told you you had looked pretty, kept your cup filled, how he took care of you.

You thought about what Jungkook had said on the walk to the house. His words rang in your ears louder than the music that was still blaring downstairs.

“Just promise me you will have some fun tonight”

And you did. You had a lot of fun tonight. You felt giddy and happy and slightly tipsy.

“I'm gonna fuck Tae.” You said to your reflection earning a giggle to spill from your lips as you stared at yourself.

It only made sense. Out of all the girls he could have talked to tonight, he chose you. You could trust him. Jungkook told you to have fun and that would be fun. Sure you never ever had sex with someone at a party but you also never partied and here you were in Jimin's bathroom feeling the happiest and lightest you had felt in weeks.

He could break your dry spell. He could be good for you. So good for you and good to you. Of course, you had heard the stories, even his friends had. Tae never denied it saying he didn't kiss and tell. You could be his secret.

Suddenly you couldn't stop thinking about him. His fluffy brown hair, his boxy smile. The way he laughed when Yoongi told a funny story. How he nearly took J-Hope down while giving him a hug when he finally showed up to the party, fashionably late of course. The best part was, he was as drunk as you were. So if the sex was bad it didn't matter. You doubted either of you would remember. It was perfect.

You ruffled your hair and tried to fix your mascara nearly poking yourself in the eye in the process. You pulled down your dress to go for more of a sultry look and as you opened the door you were met with a broad chest.

You almost ran right into it and when you looked up you were eye to eye with Namjoon, who had a worried look on his face. He must have followed you to the bathroom. Classic Namjoon looking out for everyone.

“Joonie!” You squealed as you pulled him in for a hug, taking in his spicy cologne and your head spun, the room spun, everything was kind of spinning at the moment.

He embraced you and held you still as you nearly tripped on your feet.

“Joonie Guess what!?” You said brightly as you watched his lips twitch into a smile at the cute nickname you gave him.

“Y/N how much have you had to drink? Are you okay?” He asked all serious and you threw back your head and laughed. Poor Namjoon always so serious. He needed to lighten up. You wanted him to feel how you felt. Light as a feather...or a nice pretty cloud. Besides all the spinning.

“Doesn't matter. Namjoon do you know where Taehyung is? I need him. It's so so important.” You slur, tilting your head and trying to look as cute as possible so he would help you. You had seen Jungkook try that with him many times and it always worked. You tried to imitate Jungkook's pouty smile.

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow and stares you down. His body is blocking the exit to the bathroom caging you in.

He didn't seem to want to help you.

Well,

Fine.

“Joonie move over I need to find Tae.” You whine as you place both hands on his chest and try to move him. His body is warm under your hands and he doesn't move at all as you push your force into him.

“What do you need him for?” Namjoon asks tilting his head.

“None of your business.” You tease. You didn't know why he had to be so serious all the time. It was ruining your plans.

“How about this? You tell me and I let you leave.” He says smiling at you, dimple poking out.

“For your information Joon. I'm going to fuck him.” You say crossing your arms and puffing out your chest to make yourself look bigger.

Namjoon puts his hands on either side of the bathroom threshold caging you in further.

“Y/N how much have you had to drink? Seriously. You aren't yourself right now.” He says staring you down as you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I don't know. I didn't bother counting because that's stupid! Taehyung gave me drinks and I drank them. It was polite! Jungkook told me to have fun and I was having fun till you showed up.” You shot back feeling annoyed.

Namjoon let out a low chuckle which only annoyed you further.

“I didn't want to come here in the first place but I guess I made a promise to Jungkook. I hate these parties but I sucked it up and came. Now I'm happy and having fun and you're trapping me in this bathroom. You are the worst Namjoon. Either help me find him or move over and I'll find him myself.” You bite out staring him down with the same hard stare he is giving you.

“I'm not letting you do something stupid because you are drunk Y/N,” Namjoon explains slowly as if he is talking to a child. It makes your blood boil even more.

“Fine! I won't have sex with Tae.”

“Good.”

“I'll fuck someone else. Jin sure is handsome.” You snap out trying to get under his skin some more. You weren't sure why you were pushing this issue so much. However, once you started you felt like you couldn't stop. Namjoon was going to ruin your fun so you were going to be a brat.

Namjoon's jaw goes slack before he composes himself.

“Y/N how about we get you some water? I think you need to sober up first. Then I will take you home before you do something stupid that you will regret.” He replies as you shoot him a death glare and are about to spit out some snarky response when you feel funny, and not the good giddy kind of funny you had been feeling.

In a split second, you are spinning around and throwing yourself at the toilet throwing up everything you drank. You hear the door close and your head spins thinking how badly you fucked up for Namjoon to see you get sick and just leave you there all by yourself.

You are surprised when you feel hands grab your hair and hold it back as another wave of nausea hits you and you throw up again.

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

The first thing you notice when you wake up is a water bottle sitting on a nightstand with a pill bottle next to it.

Pain killers

For your hangover

which you are definitely feeling right now.

You buried your face into the pillow and closed your eyes, smiling. Jungkook sure didn't know how to take care of you. This was why he was your best friend. He was always so good to you.

However

Something felt off

Because Jungkook didn't have that color of nightstand, and these sheets certainly didn't smell like the cologne you knew he always wore.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked around.

You were in someone's bedroom. A very unfamiliar bedroom.

Panic seized your body as you sat fully up and felt the room spin. You closed your eyes and counted backward from ten waiting for the spinning to stop.

Once it felt safe you cracked open your eyes and took in your surroundings.

The room was very spacious, with hardwood floors and white walls where random art pieces hung. Books were scattered on the floor in an organized kind of way. There were floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall and the curtains were drawn, you could see sunlight peaking out from the bottom of the curtains and you rubbed your eyes wondering what time it even was.

You tried to piece together the events of last night

Going to the party with Jungkook

Hanging out with his friends

Hanging out with Taehyung

Having drinks

Losing Taehyung in the crowd

Then...

Then?

You shook your head.

You couldn't remember the rest.

All you knew was you were in a stranger's bed and you needed to figure this out. NOW

Your hands shook as you peeled off the covers and looked down. You were most definitely not wearing the black dress you wore to the party. Instead, you were wearing an oversized men's shirt that was a soft gray and by the feeling of it, it was very well worn. The tee shirt was long enough to be a dress and you for sure weren't wearing pants but you still had underwear on.

You felt sick

Not because of the hangover but because you could not remember what the heck happened.

You spotted the bathroom door and stood on shaky legs to get yourself there.

Your reflection in the mirror was pretty rough, dark circles under your eyes and your skin was paler than normal and when you peered closer you realized all the makeup you wore last night was gone. Someone had taken it off and put you to bed.

Your stomach lurched

But who did this?

You had never been this confused in your life.

Suddenly a knock on the door shook you from your thoughts. You froze hands still on the sink and a shocked expression on your face, whoever it was, you were about to find out.

“Y/N... you okay?” came a soft deep voice that you recognized.

Namjoon.

Namjoon took you home and took care of you.

But why?

You didn't remember even talking to him last night except for when Jimin brought you over at the start of the party.

“Y/N?” He repeated.

“Yes, I'm! I'm okay.” You answer back cringing at how scratchy your voice sounds.

Namjoon didn't bother answering but you could hear his soft footsteps walk away from the door and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

You knew you couldn't hide in the bathroom forever so you splashed some water on your face and dried it off. You pulled his shirt down further and slowly ambled out of the bathroom. Your eyebrows shot up as he was sitting on the edge of the bed swiping through his phone. He looked cozy wearing black sweats and a dark green sweater.

You suddenly felt awkward and way too exposed as he looked up and shot you a shy smile.

“Um. Hey?” You mumbled as you made your way over to the bed and got back under the covers feeling like a little kid that was about to be scolded.

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?” He asked as he pocketed his phone and stared you down.

“Good.. um...I mean... honestly confused.” You say with a small laugh trying to dispel the tension you were feeling. Why was this so awkward? Why were you so awkward?

“Okay, so how much of last night do you remember, or want to remember?” He asks with a grin as he adjusts his glasses and shifts so he's sitting at the end of the bed facing you.

“Oh god.” You reply covering your face with your hands feeling embarrassment seep through your entire body.

“How bad was it?” You ask needing the answer but also fearing it.

Namjoon let out a small chuckle as he motioned to the water and the medication sitting on the nightstand.

You took a drink and swallowed the pill under his watchful gaze.

“I mean it wasn't bad bad. You didn't do anything embarrassing in front of the whole party or anything. You just had a lot of drinks and had a hidden agenda that I didn't let you...um...accomplish? You threw up and finally let me convince you that I should take you home.”

He paused and you winced. There was more.

“Um, Jimin helped me get you into the car, don't worry we smuggled you down the back staircase so no one saw. You were... pretty drunk and saying...things.”

This was the moment you wished the bed and floor would swallow you whole. You burned red as Namjoon kept speaking.

“Then it was raining and I finally got you to Jimin's car. You thought-” He smiled and his dimple appeared “You thought it would be fun to run in the rain. Jimin had to chase you and got soaked.”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned.

“Want me to keep going?” Namjoon asked as you peeked through your fingers.

“How bad is the rest?” You asked feeling dread pool in your stomach.

“Jimin drove you and I stayed in the backseat with you in case you got sick again. Don't worry he told Yoongi to keep an eye on things and said he left to get more water for the party anyway. Um, you didn't want to go home. You wanted to...um... not be alone? So I told Jimin just to take you to my place, and uh. Here we are.” He said not making eye contact with you as you grabbed the nearest pillow to cover your face with.

How embarrassing.

“Then you kind of just walked in and found my bedroom on your own and you shucked off your clothes grabbed my shirt from the desk chair, put it on, and passed out. I took off your makeup because you were soaked from the rain and I didn't want you to sleep with it on.” He admitted looking up at you with a shy smile.

Shame burned through your body as you kept the pillow over your face and threw yourself back so you were lying down, white hot embarrassment coursing through you.

You still didn't know how many drinks Tae had given you and you wished you had been more responsible so you wouldn't be in this situation. Fricken Taehyung.

“Jungkook?” You asked suddenly alarmed that he wasn't a part of this. He didn't know you were taken from the party and he was going to flip.

“Jimin let him know you were staying with me. Everything was taken care of Y/N.” Namjoon said smoothly.

“I- Namjoon I'm so sorry I'm so embarrassed. This is, super embarrassing,” You admit as you remove the pillow from your face and sit up taking him in. He locks eyes with you and smiles softly.

“Y/N believe me... sure you said some stuff but this is not the most embarrassing drunk story I have been a part of. Remind me one time to tell you about Jin and the lawn decorations,” he says with a laugh that has you smiling

“Do I? Do I want to know what I said?” You ask timidly fearing the answer.

Namjoon broke your gaze and you saw a pink blush rise over his cheeks and ears.

Oh no.

“Um well remember when I said you had a hidden agenda. Do you... remember what that was.” He said suddenly very interested in the blue checkered duvet.

Your mouth went dry and you shook your head.

“Um, well you wanted to have sex with Taehyung. Something about him breaking your dry spell. You were very upset when I was blocking the door. Then you mentioned wanting to fuck Jin. Called him handsome. He'd love nothing more than to hear that.” Namjoon teased as you grit your teeth and once again hid your face.

Your heart was racing and you thought you would die from embarrassment. No way did you tell Namjoon that you wanted to fuck his best friend. I mean sure you had joked about it with Jungkook but that was different. So, so different.

“On the way down the stairs, you told Jimin about your...dry spell and how it didn't need to be one of Jungkook's friends, it could be anyone at the party. Then you started to mumble some random words and we eventually got you outside.” He said playing with his fingers and still not looking at you.

“I'm never going to live this down am I?” You ask with burning shame.

“Don't worry this whole thing is our secret. I don't think Jimin and I could survive if Jin knew you thought he was handsome and Tae knew drunk you wanted to have sex with him. They already have big enough egos, and having someone as beautiful as you want them? I'd never hear the end of it.” Namjoon teases which causes the tension to dispel and you let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I mean drunk me has good taste. Almost went after Mr World Wide Handsome himself” You tease back as Namjoon lets out a belly laugh and shakes his head smiling wide.

“Now, what about sober you?” He asks with a cock of an eyebrow which causes your laugh to be cut short as you stare him down, your mood changing from silly to serious with one sentence.

“Uh, I'm not sure. Sober me is a lot smarter than drunk me and would probably make better decisions.” You admit, your eyes not leaving his.

What was he getting at?

“Well, you went on and on about a dry spell and wouldn't let it go. I'm here for whatever you need. A friend, a fuck. Just saying. I mean, I do think you are beautiful and I'm so surprised someone hasn't made you theirs yet, two years can be a long time without a proper fuck.” Namjoon boldly states as your jaw drops and he pats your knee through the covers.

“I'm going to make some coffee, come join me if you like.” He says with a wink, leaving the bed and heading toward the door not bothering to look back.

What the fuck just happened?

Did he just offer to?

You weren't sure what was going on all you knew was Namjoon had offered to have sex with you and you felt like you got whiplash. Where did this even come from? Sure you had talked to him at parties and sure he was one of Jungkook's friends but this side of him you had never seen.

He was always so responsible, looking out for everyone, taking care of everyone sure he was a guy so he had needs but you never thought of him in this way. However, he planted the seed and now you can't stop thinking about it.

How tall he was and how he looked so good last night in his black silk shirt and dress pants. How he stood silently sipping a drink and staring everyone down. Tall, silent, sexy.

You felt heat pool in your stomach and felt your pussy throb at the thought of him under you, or on top of you. It had been two years, and Namjoon had offered, and it would be rude to reject him. Right. Right?

You slowly got out of bed and padded to the door to crack it open. Your eyes widened as you saw him in the kitchen, he had taken off his sweater and instead was wearing a white tank top which showed off his back muscles and his arm muscles. You internally groaned. He looked so good.

You timidly walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his body, pressing your face into his back. He stilled his movements and just let you stand there and hug him as the morning sun shone through the window and cast beams on the dark wood floors.

His scent filled your nose as your hands climbed up his firm chest. You felt a laugh rumble out of him as your hands ran along his chest and up to his collarbones before sliding down, down, down until you were at the hem of his sweatpants.

You could hear his breath hitch and he froze on the spot. For a moment you thought you had read the whole thing wrong and embarrassed yourself again when his big hands laced through yours and brought them down to wear you felt his cock, hard and straining against his sweatpants.

You let out an audible gasp as he turned around and stared you down, his eyes darkening and his tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

Your eyes were blown wide taking him in like this.

“Please tell me you want this?” He asked in a rough voice, eyes scanning yours.

“I just, I never thought, I didn't even think you noticed me.” You confessed softly, eyes not leaving his.

“God Y/N how could I not. You are so beautiful and I mean, I don't want to sound like a creep. I didn't take you back here just for this. I took you back as a friend because I was concerned about you. If you want this we can. If not we can go back to being friends. I don't want you to feel obligated. Or like you have to. That's not how I imagined this going down.” He admits with a shy blush.

“You imagined this?” You say softly with a teasing grin.

Before he can respond you wrap your arms around him and bring him in for a searing kiss. His arms immediately wrap around you as he lifts you up on the island and your legs part for him to stand in between. You wrap your legs around his hips bringing him closer as you deepen the kiss.

His kisses are strong and firm as his hands rub up and down your thighs. You are melting into him and feeling heat pool in your body and expand outwards to your fingers and toes.

His tongue darts out to lick at your lips and you moan which lets his tongue explore your mouth. Your hands are gripping the front of his shirt for dear life as he pushes into you harder, pouring out all the days and weeks of wanting you into this kiss.

Your hands travel down and you cup him through his sweatpants. He breaks the kiss and throws back his head with a grunt as you palm him, eyes sparking with mischief as you see how affected he is.

His hands continue to rub at your thighs as you rub him through his sweats, you can feel how hot and hard he is, his length impressive in the confines of his pants and you want nothing more than to suck him off and watch him fall apart under you.

Namjoon lets another groan leave his lips as in one swoop he lifts you off the counter and carries you to the bedroom, you throw your head back and laugh at his impatience as he finally gets you in the room and hastily throws you on the bed.

The giggles that were bubbling out of you had been cut off when you finally stared at him and you knew you are in for it.

His eyes are narrowed and dark as he takes you in. Lying in just his shirt, in his bed.

Oh. Right.

His eyes roam your body and settle between your legs which you are sure is slick with want. Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the very edge of the bed which causes you to gasp and fist the sheets below.

He slowly teases your legs open and you cry out when he presses soft kisses to your ankle, then slowly, too slowly, moving his way up your leg.

You let out a frustrated noise which has him chuckling against your skin as you watch him continue his path of kisses.

Your calf, your knee, your thigh, your upper thigh.

You feel your core ache with need and wonder how you are even going to survive this. Namjoon hadn't even touched you yet and you felt positively soaked.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and rucked it up so he could get a view of your underwear and he pressed his face into your upper thigh groaning as he took in your soaked core and how wide you spread your legs for him.

Namjoon's hands hooked into your underwear and pulled it down and watched as strings of arousal stuck to the fabric.

“Fuck that's so hot.” He groaned out as he tossed them somewhere in the room.

You suddenly felt shy and tried to close your legs to hide just how turned on you were but Namjoon's hands were strong and fast on your knees, prying your legs open and making you show him.

“Nuh uh, no hiding now baby girl. I've been waiting a long time for this. I'm going to savor it.” He promises with a wink, which has your stomach twisting and turning in anticipation.

One finger lightly drags up your folds which has you arching off the bed and moans spilling from your lips. You try desperately to keep them in but can't help it as Namjoon repeats the motion.

“Sensitive.” He teases with a grin as he places another kiss on your inner thigh which has you bucking your hips up. Desperate for him to touch you or taste you.

“If it's too much let me know.” He says with a serious tone which has your eyebrows raising in wonder.

He smirks at you and sucks a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit and making you ache for him, your body a live wire needing to be touched before you lose your mind.

Namjoon keeps eye contact with you as he swirls the digit around his tongue. His hair is a mess and his eyes are blown wide and you want nothing more than to stare at him for a lifetime. He just looks so good between your legs.

You grow impatient at every pass of his tongue and you decide to move this along as your hand comes down to touch yourself if he isn't going to do it himself.

His free hand swats you away and he stares at you with a wicked grin.

“Impatient huh?” He asks as he finally pulls the digit out of his mouth and you whine and bring your hips up to him once more, desperate for him to do something. Anything.

“I mean I did say it was a dry spell of two years you know?” You snap as he chuckles and once again prods his finger at your entrance. Finally pushing it slowly, which has you arching off the bed and staring up at the ceiling, sweet moans spilling from your lips.

Sure you had fingered yourself before but Namjoon's fingers were large. It was a delicious stretch you had come to miss from someone else's hands and you ground down on it which caused another sweet laugh to fall from Namjoon's mouth.

“Namjoon, please, move.” You beg as his finger is still inside of you annoyingly unmoving.

“God baby you're tight gonna have to stretch you out good to take my cock.” He growls as he starts pumping his finger inside you slowly.

You can feel the easy glide of his finger against your walls and the movement alone had your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you grind down on them to get more pleasure.

“Yeah, baby you like fucking your pussy on my fingers? So dirty.” Namjoon praises as he adds another finger and you grip the sheets tighter as you chase your high.

You are embarrassingly close already and Namjoon must know because his other hand swipes at your wetness and brings it up to your clit circling the small bud which has you crying out in his name.

He continues to finger you and rub at your clit and you can feel your muscles grow taut and your stomach clench as you chase your high. You are so close you can feel Namjoon speed up his actions to bring you there.

His fingers begin to curl up against your G spot and you thrash on the bed as you are taken over by pleasure.

“Cum for me baby. Cum on my fingers so I can taste.” Namjoon pleads and those words alone are what set you off.

Your body arches off the bed as you chase your high and fall right over the precipice, your orgasm washing over you and walls throbbing around his fingers. You let Namjoon work you through it as you continue to moan and arch up, his fingers almost becoming too much as you whine and pull away from him, your heart racing and your whole body alight with post-orgasm bliss.

You let your heart rate slow down before you open your eyes and see him kneeling between your legs, his eyes locked on yours and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

You stare at him in absolute disbelief as his gaze breaks from yours and he looks down at his fingers which are drenched in your wetness.

He cocks an eyebrow and right as he is about to bring them to his mouth and hopefully fuck you into the mattress later, the doorbell rings.

You quickly sit up in bed as Namjoon whips his head around to stare at the closed bedroom door.

With his free hand, he takes out his phone and fumbles around before he frowns, checking the door camera.

“Jungkook.” He says, panicked eyes meeting yours.

“What do you mean? Jungkook? Here? Why?” You mutter scrambling to put yourself together after what you just went through.

The doorbell rings again and kicks Namjoon into gear. He slowly gets up from the floor and winces when he finally stands tall and stretches out. You're still on the bed half naked staring at him wondering what the fuck to do.

He locks eyes with you and puts his fingers in his mouth which causes a groan to slip from your lips. Even though your friend is waiting at the door Namjoon takes his time cleaning off his fingers keeping his dark gaze locked on yours.

This time there are impatient knocks at the door as Namjoon pops his fingers out of his mouth and wipes the rest of it on his sweats.

He heads towards the door without saying anything to you so you do the first thing you can think of and pretend to be asleep. You scramble up the bed and throw the covers over yourself closing your eyes tight and trying to forget the image of him licking your arousal off his long thick fingers.

You heard the door being answered, Namjoon was polite as always as if he didn't just give you the orgasm of your life. You wonder if he washed his hands or if Jungkook could smell your arousal on them and if Jungkook would even know what went down.

“She's okay Kook really. She's been sleeping all morning I was actually just about to make food then wake her.” You hear Namjoon say and you bite back a laugh. You could hardly sleep now after what he did to you. How hard he made you cum. How desperate you were for him to do it again.

Even though you already came you can still feel the thrumming need of desire coursing through you. If Jungkook didn't interrupt would you be taking his cock right now? Would he take his time with you or completely ravish you? Was he soft and sweet in bed or an absolute animal?

You tried to rid your mind of those ideas as you could still hear Jungkook and Namjoon talking in the kitchen.

“Kookie it's fine. She threw up so I took her here because she kept saying how she didn't want to be alone. She took the bed I took the couch.” Namjoon explained as you felt your cheeks burn. You never bothered to ask him where he slept as you drowned in the embarrassment of his retelling of your night.

“Namjoon you are a lifesaver, when Jimin told me, I mean, it could have been anyone. I'm glad she was with you. She's in good hands with you.” Jungkook explains as you hear a chair squeaking along the floor.

“She is in very good hands with me. She was taken care of.” He responds and you almost shake your head as you can imagine the look on his face and what that sentence suggested. Jungkook had no idea but you were very well taken care of.

“You said you were going to make food? How about I do that so we don't have an injury and you go wake her yeah? I owe her an apology for ditching and food makes everything better. Especially if you're hungover.” You hear Jungkook explain.

“Of course, you know where everything is,” Namjoon says as you hear footsteps approaching the bedroom door. You clench your legs together still feeling arousal pool as he opens the door and slowly slips inside.

“Wakey Wakey sleepy head,” Namjoon says loud enough for Jungkook to hear as you bite back a laugh and sit up.

Namjoon is staring at you eyes wide and smiling.

“God I love seeing you in my bed. It's every fantasy come true.” He mumbles low enough for only you to hear.

You bite your lip at his words and slowly remove the covers to get out of bed.

Namjoon comes around the bed quickly and stops you. His eyes scan your face and you feel small under his gaze.

He leans down and quickly kisses you. His body presses into yours and you can still feel his erection on your bare thigh.

“I do mean what I said before Y/N. I'm here if you need a friend or a fuck. We're already friends so I guess I owe you a rain check for a proper fuck and just so you know. I always keep my promises.” He whispers which causes goosebumps to appear on your skin and you shiver under him.

“Now come on, breakfast.” He says switching into the soft smiley Namjoon you know so well as he once again pops his fingers into his mouth which has your jaw-dropping, he shoots you a wink and leaves the bedroom leaving you speechless and once again wondering what the fuck just happened

Thank you for reading!!

#namjoon x reader #namjoon/reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #kim namjoon/reader #kim namjoon smut #bts fic

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consultingskeletondetective · 3 months ago

Text

Virginal, chapter 2

Michael had left you alive, and you couldn't begin to fathom why. You know all you can do is try and forget it and move on with your life.

Except...Michael has followed you home.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, murder, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, female reader, non con, stalking, hair pulling, forced orgasms

The police hadn’t caught him yet.

It had been almost a week since your encounter with Michael Myers in the woods on your way home from work, and he’d been on the run ever since. You hadn’t reported what had happened to the authorities, even if you’d been on the verge of it many times. You’d spent the whole week waking up in cold sweats with a gooey and shameful mess between your legs at the memory of Michael’s large hand on your neck, or the sense-memory of his cock pressed heavy and dangerous against your core. The way he’d used you, fucked you, like his own little plaything haunted you.

No one could know what he’d done to you, no one could know how you felt about it, even if the guilt gnawed at you. Maybe if you’d told someone, they might have caught him by now, and people might still be alive. But there was a part of you, a part of you you wished you didn’t have, that reminded you that if Michael wanted someone dead, then there was nothing any earthly power could do to keep that person alive. Michael left no survivors.

Except for you.

It had been on the news religiously all week; police were baffled by his location and utterly at a loss for his motivations and patterns. Michael, it seemed, cared not a bit to cover his tracks. He even seemed to decorate his murder scenes artistically, propping bodies up and, blurred though they were on the television, reminding you of a sick and gruesome game of action figures. They were Michael’s bodies, to do with as he pleased. Twelve people he’d killed since he found you. Twelve. That the authorities were aware of, anyway. The thought chilled you to the very core.

You’d learnt from the heavy reporting that Michael Myers had been being held at the Westbrook Sanitarium for the criminally insane, not four miles from where you worked, and he’d escaped that night he’d taken you - thrust against your weak body until he came on your cunt like a wild animal.

You were the first person he’d come across, apparently, and after years of solitude, Michael had some frustrations to take out on you. You knew well who he was, you recognised that mask and that boiler suit the second you’d seen it. You’d grown up with stories of the boogeyman who’d murdered his sister the same as everyone else, thrust into the spotlight when he’d escaped from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium a few years ago and murdered a bunch of teenagers on a spree. You’d seen the youtube video essays and buzzfeed articles on the stoic killing machine who’d baffled psychologists and doctors up and down the country, maybe even the world. You’d walked past books in shops written about this monster, his silence, his rage, his gore and death and damnation were a part of your culture. It made it easy to forget that Michael Myers was real, and not just some fictitious product of a sick mind. He became very real to you that night, your own personal boogeyman.

You’d learnt that Michael Myers was no man, he was an evil spirit, a hell-sent silent demon, a ghost - one that was haunting you.

You turned the television off and went into the bathroom, shucking your clothes into a messy pile by the bath as you stepped under the cool spray of the shower.

It was a warm day, your skin over-hot, and you welcomed the clammy dribbles down your back. You washed quickly, fingers pressing too familiar over the lips of your pussy, you expected them still to be swollen, puffy from use where Michael had rutted his scorching and elephantine cock against you like a beast in heat, but it wasn’t. It was like it hadn’t happened. Except it had, of course, because you still wore him on your skin. His fingertips were in every bruise, his grip was the ache in your bones with every groan of your sore body. It was like he’d marked you, made your tiny body a part of his eclipsing form.

You shook your head frustratedly to yourself in the bathroom mirror before flicking the lightswitch off and making your way to your bedroom. You couldn’t think of him every moment for the rest of your life, you couldn’t live in fear of the boogeyman. He had left you alive, and you had to live with that. Michael was gone, and you’d never see him again.

You pulled a short nightdress on, the flimsy material to combat the hot and sticky night you anticipated, and you made your way to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle to take to bed.

The outside light was on.

It wasn’t yours, but your neighbours. It was motion-sensored, you knew that because it blinded you every time you stumbled back from a night shift.

You frowned before crossing to the door, to close the blinds over the glass so no one would be able to see into your home in the middle of the night. Your hand tangled in the string before it froze, along with the rest of your body. Like your blood had frozen to ice inside you and made you a dead weight to the floor.

Michael was standing under the light, 50 yards away from your door. He was staring sightlessly at you through the empty eyes of his mask, utterly emotionless. His hands rested unclenched by his sides, his back razor-straight as always. He was just watching. His form gave no indication of how long he’d been there. Maybe hours.

Fear shot through you and the string began to shake violently in your grip as you stared at him. He’d come to finish what he’d started, you realised in horror, he’d noticed his mistake in leaving you alive. Was it so you couldn’t tell the police? Was it just that you needed to die, he’d had you in his grasp and that was that, a rageful itch under his skin that wouldn’t be quenched until your blood was soaking his hands?

It didn’t make sense. He was stood in the street, bathed in your neighbours motion light like a bloody homing beacon. Surely they’d seen him. Surely someone had seen him and called the police? Why weren’t there any sirens? It was deathly quiet. Just you, him and the wind. Maybe it was a fever dream, a sleep paralysis nightmare and your demon had returned to you.

He began walking leisurely towards the door, his pace bone-tinglingly unhurried as ever, before he stopped at the glass and peered down at you. You shrank, paralysed with fear. You’d somehow forgotten just how big he was. He might have been two foot taller than you, and just as broad, taking up the whole of the door so he blacked out any light behind him. That was as good a metaphor as any to describe Michael. The darkness followed him.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving, dazzled, you supposed somewhere in the back of your mind. A monster brought to life, in front of you, enough to convince yourself that you were dreaming.

His fist shattered through the glass, shards of glittering ice hitting the kitchen floor as his hand curled down to find the handle. You screamed, backing off so violently your back hit the fridge and tears wept down your cheeks until they were quite literally soaking the front of your nightie. This was no dream. It was a nightmare incarnate.

Even his violent outburst seemed calm somehow, shattering your backdoor into shards of glass like it was nothing. His large hand found the door handle and began to rattle it, and the noise caused your brain to snap back to where it needed to be.

You forced your eyes from him, pushed yourself away from the fridge and scurried into the living room. The front door was in your sights. You didn’t know precisely what you planned to do with yourself when you got outside, your brain hadn’t made it that far yet. All you knew was that you needed to survive, and you had no chance of that locked in the same cage as this rabid animal.

You grabbed for the front door handle with a hiss of accomplishment, throwing your gaze back over your shoulder to ascertain how much time you had. No time. Michael was already in the living room, walking towards you like he had all the time in the world. You shrieked in pure terror at his towering form as you flung the door wide open, the concrete of your front step was cool on your barefoot but the sensation barely lasted a second as fingers tangled roughly in your hair and yanked you roughly until you fell onto the carpet. The open-palm of Michael’s free hand slammed the front door shut, cutting off your exit, and the oak creaked under the force of it, the foundations of the house damn-near shaking.

You scrambled onto your knees, screeching, crying, grasping at his hand in your hair, wincing when every flex of his fingers yanked at your scalp, tearing individual hairs out by the roots. He had to bend his back to hold you to the floor, his emotionless mask looking down on you. His breathing was barely audible over your devastated screams. You couldn’t move.

“Please, please, please, Michael, please don’t kill me. I didn’t tell anyone, I swear! I won’t! I don’t want to die, please let me go, please, please-”

You could barely beg, your throat hoarse, your words sobs. He didn’t respond except to drag you into the middle of the room by your hair, kicking the coffee table aside to make room for you both in the middle of the floor. One of the wooden legs of your poor table snapped under his boot before he tossed you down like a ragdoll. Your back hit the carpeted floor and it shook your whole frame. You instinctively planted your palms on the floor behind yourself, to crawl back, to spring up, you didn’t know.

Michael’s boot came to rest on your bare thigh, his weight utterly solid and you wailed as he pinned you to the floor. Your nightie had ridden up, not to the point of indecency, but enough that his boot kissed your flesh. You froze as fresh tears streamed down your face, remembering exactly what he’d done the last time he’d had you like this, as if just realising how acutely vulnerable you were in this position. Were you even wearing underwear? You didn’t think so. His boot was mere inches away from your exposed cunt, all he’d have to do was push your dress up and he’d see everything. See how fucking wet you were. You hated yourself.

“Please,” you tried again, voice barely a whisper as you looked up at him. Submissive, you realised, prey before a predator, begging for its life. “What do you want?”

He didn’t move, you could barely tell if he was breathing, just staring down at you as everything else in the world fell away. His hands were still loose by his sides, no knife, you noted, but a grim red-hued dirt on the rough palms of his hands you could identify without too much guesswork. Your stomach rolled.

His hand raised and you jolted, expecting pain, to be struck, stripped, killed.

How long had he been searching for you? Maybe he’d never left, maybe he’d been one step behind you all week, watching you sleep, watching you shower - were those twelve people dead because they lived close to you? Did you kill them?

His large hand came to rest over the front of his crotch and your mouth fell open. Not again. Why me? You were already shaking your head, breathy hitching sobs racking through you.

“No, Michael, please -”

He toed your thigh with the steel-gap of his boot, shoving it to the side, affectively opening your legs and you wanted to close your eyes, the feeling of vulnerability and shame as he spread your legs for him hurt something deep inside of you, you felt dirty and shameful in every one of your nerves. Your slick was soaking the back of your nightie and probably your carpet too. What the fuck was wrong with you?

He fell to his knees in front of you, in a way that could only have hurt, but he didn’t make a sound as his large, gore-stained hands gripped your bare thighs and tugged until you were lying in front of him. You squeaked, your legs not quite touching his, more left hanging in the air as he scraped his calloused hands down your thighs in a way that definitely didn’t make your heart speed up, no more than it was already hammering, before his palms were flat on your inner thighs, pressing them apart and into the floor. You tried immediately and desperately to close them and his grip on you tightened to the point of extreme pain, your femurs tremoring dangerously like they might snap if you moved even an inch.

You stilled completely, you couldn’t tell where he was looking, but it seemed to be right at you, that emotionless masked expression, or lack of, giving you nothing, but you could feel the rage and the dangerous power wafting off of him, you could feel the coiled strength in his fingers, the strain of his bicep muscles in his boiler suit as he held you immobile and you swallowed, shivering in fear and pitiful acceptance as you stopped struggling. If you had any hope of getting out of this alive, and as uninjured as possible, you had to stop fighting.

His pathetic, mewling hole, your brain supplied almost bitterly.

Once apparently satisfied you’d stopped struggling, MIchael’s grip on your thighs lessened somewhat, leaving deep red bruises regardless, and he shifted forwards on his knees, taking up more space between your legs, as he rucked your nightie up to your belly, sitting back a little just to stare at your pussy, exposed and dripping and vulnerable, as if getting a good look at the wet little hole that had made him come so hard the last time.

Your cheeks burned boiling hot as he looked at you, your thighs twitching conspirately to close but you forced yourself to try and calm, utterly impossible, you trembled like a newborn foal.

He dipped his head between your legs and your back arched, startled, wondering what he possibly meant to do, particularly, your horrible brain chipped in, with a mask over his face. You could hear nothing but that breathing, before it was sucked in, the nose of his mask just nudging your folds and making you jolt.

Was he - was he smelling you?

He made no noise, his body shifted an inch. What was he doing? It was like he was searching for something. He kept his nose buried against your soaping heat for a few more moments before he apparently found it. Then he was sitting back up again. Your knees were nearly knocking together in terror when his hands, fuck, how were they so big? framed your cunt, pulling at the flesh of the tops of your thighs, spreading your folds, revealing the vulnerable pink flesh of your seam, your clit.

Oh fuck.

He prodded you with a long finger a few times, painful sharp jabs until he caught the rim of your opening and sunk in to the knuckle. It burned, it burned so hot, you clenched painfully around his finger. Fuck, it felt like the size of a cock all on its own. But the finger was withdrawn as quickly as it had breached you, like a fucking dip test, but no less rough on the way out and you grimaced. You had a pretty good idea about what was to follow, and the anticipation of the pain alone was enough to make you cry again.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tried again pathetically, wondering somewhere in your mind why you were trying to distract him from fucking you, when the alternative was his heavy hands shattering your collarbone until your heart was pierced by your own brittle dagger. Survival, you kept saying to yourself, one day you might believe it, you were trying to live. Nothing else. Nothing else.

He’d already unzipped his boiler suit, you could just glimpse a sliver of pale flesh beneath but he undressed himself no further, reaching down into his trousers and pulling his cock free.

Fucking hell.

It was a goddamn fucking monster. It sat snug in Michael’s large hand, long and thick, crown red with blood and dribbling precome, it curved up slightly, in a way that was designed to attack that spot inside of you, and when he dropped it, it dipped, bobbing against his boiler suit, so heavy under its own weight it could barely hold itself up, but it did, his cock stood proud and to attention, ready for action, as he shifted down a little, hands once more finding your thighs and hauling you practically into his lap. He threw your legs over his broad hips, stretching your thigh muscles, as his cock rested hot and heavy on your pelvic bone, like a leaden weight on you. Oh fuck, you were so fucked. It was near enough the size of your thigh, and you knew it was going to wreck you.

You jerked your hips uselessly, trying in vain to put some distance between you and Michael’s thick cock, you’d never had a partner that size before, you’d never even had a toy that size. It wasn’t going to fit, it was as simple as that. Except he didn’t care.

He pressed his hips up, taking you with him, lifting your back clean off of the floor so your spine was arched uncomfortably. He paid you no mind as he gripped the base of his erection and slipped himself down through your folds.

He was silent, calm and ferocious as he pressed forward against you with so much pressure that it hurt. You could feel his heaviness hard against your pelvic bone and you trembled in fearful anticipation of what was about to happen.

Finally, Michael found what he was looking for and his thick cockhead breached your hole barely a centimetre but still you gasped, already undone by being so violently penetrated by not even a goddamn inch of that fat unforgiving head.

Michael surged forward, in triumph perhaps, or just in a hurry to get his cock stuffed deep into you as quickly as possible, but your traitorous cunt was wet enough that he slipped straight back out again, whole cock fucking upwards and jamming through your folds, gliding gloriously against your clit. You let out a loud moan and he stilled entirely except for the throb of his cock against you. You clapped your hands to your mouth and forced your eyes to the ceiling. You hadn’t meant to do that. You didn’t want to give him the sick satisfaction. It was the last thing you could keep for yourself.

Michael was a fast learner, it seemed, because this time he inched a little more slowly inside you until a good inch of solid cock was spearing you open. You thought you might die, knees knocking against his hips helplessly as he forcibly stretched you obscenely around him. You will take me, I will make it fit.

Only when he was firm in you, and you were surely going to pass out from pressure alone, did he plunge his hips forward, his whole cock sinking to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

The pain, fuck the pain was indescribable, burning, aching, stuffed full, stuffed beyond full - he didn’t care - he didn’t care that he’d probably just ripped you in half, stretched you so full you were more cock than you were yourself anymore. He didn’t care you were crying, shivering, he cared that you were an open, wet heat to warm his cock in.

Those blood-stained, murderous hands gripped your hips and an ache blossomed in your bones, your skin beneath his skin turned white to red to near-black with bloodied pressure-bruises as he gripped you hard enough you fully believed he intended to shatter bone. He could, you knew he could. It was enough to lose yourself to, you were going to pass out, you were going to die from the stress and agony forced upon your weak and small body. This was how he was going to kill you.

He moved, shifted his heavy length inside you, nudging spots of your flesh where a cock was not meant to be. He pulled out incrementally, shoved back in and oh - oh .

Your thighs shook again, trembled, as spiralling pleasure mixed with pain and your pussy clenched around his cock, contracting around it as he thrust in again, as if traitorously and deliriously pulling him in to you, to where that thick and hot pressure felt the best. He thrust in again, harder than before, faster than before, immediately picking up an athletic, robotic pace as if he were half-way through a marathon fuck, thrumming with energy. You had no time to adjust, no time to build-up - you were there immediately, clenching uncontrollably on Michael Myer’s mercilessly hard cock, your cunt fluttering and clenching on every brutal, animalistic intrusion, until you couldn’t take it anymore. There was no edge, there was just falling.

You yelped, back arching up even more than it already was, legs squeezing the small of Michael’s back as your poor cunt spasmed, coming hot and hard until you felt your own slick dribbling down the backs of your thighs. Michael didn’t stop for a second, he didn’t even slow, you nearly choked on your own spit.

He was utterly devoid of anything, breathing heavy and focused, no movement except the piston of his hips as he fucked you deep and unforgiving until you were sure his thick crown was kissing at your cervix.

Your head was hazy, eyes unfocused, you had absolutely no control over your overworked cunt anymore, whining pitifully as you came around him again, lathering his cock in your traitorous spend, praying every time that he’d slow, but he didn’t, and you felt that molten lava in your core building again until you were covered in a sheen of your own sweat, spent, exhausted. He didn’t care. He wasn’t done yet, he wanted more. He took it.

He angled his hips up, chasing a sensation, you weren’t prepared for it. He hammered into you until his hip bones were slamming against your inner thighs with enough force to shake your entire body. His cock against your sweet spot was like a punch to the gut and you screamed. Pain, pleasure, you didn’t know anymore as your hips convulsed and jerked, clamping down on him hard enough that if he were a normal man, he wouldn’t have been able to move.

But Michael was no normal man.

He held your hips down, taking your clenching orgasm for himself as he slammed into you. Being fucked into your leg-shaking release was like being volted off of this ethereal plane and into another, your eyes whitened, your brain slowed to juddering holt as dizzying, mind-numbing ohmyfuckinggodthisfeelssogood short-circuited your entire being.

Michael slammed into you one final time, unable to withstand the vice-like grip of your velvet walls any longer before he was stilling completely, his cock an erupting volcano inside of you that spurted hot white heat against your walls, filling you utterly.

Your mouth opened in shock, or exhaustion, as your whole body trembled, jerking uncontrollably in the aftershocks.

He didn’t linger. His hands left your hips first, the bruises behind ached immediately, black and devastating to your skin where even taking a breath in bothered them. Then he snapped his hips back, swollen cock slipping free of your drenched heat, sopping with white. He let it hang there, between his legs, a stark contrast against his boiler suit, and you trembled with undignified arousal. Your cunt felt wrecked, stretched wide, forced open to accommodate him, and yet your body still somehow ached for more. No, you were terrified, fighting for your life, this wasn’t real. None of it was.

He stood, using core strength alone, leaving your legs to fall heavily to the floor. They ached where the muscles had been stretched, kicking the pain in your back and your hips into eleventh gear. You’d been twisted like a pretzel for too long. You frowned. How long had he been fucking you? It felt like no time at all, it felt like days.

You pulled your nightie down as far as it would go, scrambling your legs together despite the way they twinged. You could feel him squelching between your thighs and your untouched clit twinged pitifully.

When you gathered the courage to look up at him, you saw that he’d tucked himself away and zipped himself back up. He stood tall and menacing over you, gargantuan in your living room, his head near-touching the ceiling. He was peering down at you, that devoid mask giving nothing. The utter silence was as terrifying and deafening as any death cry.

He cocked his head ever so slightly and you winced, fight or flight response, before he was turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

Terror rocked through you, vomit-inducing, head-spinning terror, and you were on your feet in a heartbeat. Your mauled insides and your ruined hips complained at you but you ignored it. They would mean nothing if you were dead. Which you were about to be. He was going for a knife, surely he was. He -

The creak of the kitchen door caught you by surprise, but it took a few long minutes for your heart to stop thudding loud enough for you to realise that he wasn’t coming back in. After a few breaths, your curiosity got the better of you and you crept into the kitchen. The back door was shut, except for the hole gaped in the glass by his fist, of course, and the kitchen was empty.

You were careful with your bare feet to avoid the shards of glass on the floor, not that it would make massive amounts of difference to your ruined body, before you shakily peered through what remained of your door.

The motion detector light was on, the street was empty.

Confusion and shame rocked through you with enough force to make you tumble and you had to grip the countertop to keep yourself upright.

How on earth were you still alive? For a second time? What did the most infamous serial killer in the country get from keeping you alive?

A hot, wet hole to come in.

You could feel the ache between your legs like Michael was still there, it was a glorious, horrible burn, trembling pleasure, irrefutable depravity - the best fuck of your life.

What did that make you?

Everything was eerily quiet. Your water bottle still sat on the side. If it weren’t for the broken door and the shards of glass, it would be easy to imagine that Michael hadn't been there at all.

Except for the warm come dribbling down your thighs where he’d marked his territory inside you. You swallowed. Whether you were his next victim or his fucktoy - you couldn’t escape that you were his. And you knew, even now, with terrifying certainty, that Michael Myers was not going to let you go.

link to chapter 3

#virginal #skeleton_detective #michael myers #halloween #michael myers x reader #fanfiction #multi chapter #pls read the tags #dark fic

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shuckleberrysims · 2 years ago

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🎶✨when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, and publish. then, send this ask/tag 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) ✨🎶

@faeriefrolic has tagged me for this meme! Thank you much! I don’t listen to music that often, but this is what I usually listen to when I want to be in a mood! (Some of these songs are rp-related from @faeriefrolic and I’s rp)

I tag @theworstsimblr and @bool-prop !!

#shuck has been tagged!#tag meme #sorry for the repost i was wondering why the links would actually show the song lol #Spotify

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 18 days ago

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Kinktober day 2: Car sex with Yunho

Trigger warnings: n/a

Content warnings: names (baby, baby girl, babe), it’s kinda messy, yunho has a big dick (obviously)

Summary: Things get tense while stargazing with with your boyfriend.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: hi all 🥰 after much consideration, i’ve decided to repost my kinktober 2022 stories. i had a great time writing these a couple years ago and want to share them again now that it’s been a while and i’ve had time to fall in love with them again. i hope you all enjoy! and by all means, feel free to send a message or comment here if you’d like to be part of the new tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

The seats in his SUV are laid back and the song of the frogs in the pond just over the hill fill the air, floating in through the open panoramic sunroof. It’s beautiful but neither of you are paying much attention to the stars anymore. Conversation had ceased the moment his lips met yours and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the meteor shower anymore. All you cared about was staying quiet as his large hands cupped your breasts under your shirt.

Your breath hitched as he thumbed over your nipple and you felt him grin against your neck. “You’re so responsive.”

“It’s hard not to be responsive when I’m with you.” You whispered back, letting your nails rake across his scalp. You felt him shiver at the touch and let out a soft sigh as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Well I do know what makes you tick so it’s pretty easy to get you worked up.” He sounded cocky and you rolled your eyes as you pulled back to look down at him. “I also happen to know you’ve been dying to fuck me in the back seat of my car for months now.” You wanted to deny it on principle but decided not to argue. “Let’s make that happen. Whaddaya think, baby?”

You wasted no time in bringing your lips to his, nipping as you rocked your hips. He was unbelievably hard against your ass as you started to grind on him. He bucked his hips slightly before gently pushing you back so he could reach the front of your pants. You removed yourself from his lap entirely and quickly shucked your jeans, gasping softly when the cool air of early October pouring in above you hit your skin.

He immediately pulled you back to his lap and slipped a hand between your legs, the other moving to cradle your face. “You’re fucking soaked, baby.” He groaned as his fingers danced over the growing wet patch on your panties.

You gave no response, just reached between the two of you to unbutton his jeans. Sex was always frantic and messy with Yunho and tonight was no different. In fact, you were so desperate tonight that you turned him down when he asked to go down on you. “Please just fuck me, Yunho, I can’t take the teasing right now.” You whispered, now breathless as his long fingers pushed your panties to the side.

He didn’t bother attempting to fully undress either of you, opting instead to press two of his fingers into your dripping pussy as you freed his aching cock from its denim confines. You stifled a moan, afraid someone might hear despite there being no one around for miles. He gave a wicked chuckle as he curled his fingers in a come hither motion, eyes locked on your face as your jaw fell slack. “Right there-” you gasped, trying to recover as his fingers began to slip from your entrance.

“Right there?” He echoed in that teasing tone you knew all too well as he plunged his graceful fingers back inside you, admiring the way your face contorted with pleasure as you tried to keep quiet. You nodded vigorously as you fought the urge to grind against his hand, spitting into your own and coating his dick. You watched as his eyes glossed over and his breath hitched. You knew you still didn’t have control though. His fingers slipped from your entrance once again but this time he took his dick and lined up. “Fuck me, baby girl.” He groaned as he looked up at you, thumb caressing your cheek.

You sank down on his thick cock and sucked in a shaky breath before allowing him to pull you in for a desperate, sloppy kiss. Both hands moved to your hips to guide and support you as you lifted yourself up only to drop back down. You pulled back from the kiss, tugging his lip between your teeth as you backed away. You righted yourself on his lap and began to bounce, lifting up so just the tip was inside before dropping back down.

The head of his cock kissed your cervix almost painfully but it only added to the pleasure. You tipped your head back, eyes half shut as you barely registered the burst of meteors overhead. You felt too good to think about anything else. Yunho clouded your senses as his hands slid up your sides to lift your shirt. “Take it off for me…”

You paused to remove your shirt and give your burning thighs a break but he lifted you up a bit and continued to fuck up into your soaked cunt. You whimpered pathetically as you dropped your shirt on the seat beside him, barely giving him a moment to admire your breasts bouncing before leaning into him. His arms snaked around your waist and held you flush to his chest as he pistoned up into you, soft grunts of exertion creating barely-there clouds of fog over your shoulder.

Despite the low temperature, your body was engulfed in flames. The chill was actually welcome as sweat began to bead along your body. In an attempt to stifle your sounds, you attached your lips to his neck and began sucking a mark into his skin. You felt his dick twitch inside you and grinned against his skin before sinking your teeth in. “Fuck, baby, you know what that shit does to me-”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” You whispered teasingly and he slapped your ass, eliciting a pathetic yelp. The sound quickly morphed into a dissatisfied whine as his hips slowed and you found yourself pulling back from his embrace. You quickly took over again and lifted yourself up, glancing between your bodies to watch as you sank back down on his cock. You took a shaky breath at the sight before leaning back a bit to brace yourself against the front seats.

His eyes zeroed in on your chest as you picked up the pace, thoroughly enjoying the view. You returned his gaze when he lifted his shirt a bit, staring shamelessly at his half-exposed abs. You swallowed hard at the sight but he didn't notice - and thank god for that because he would’ve made fun of you afterwards if he had. He liked teasing you. It was practically his life force.

Your mouth went dry as he pushed his shirt higher still, eyelids heavy as he showed off for you. You heard a soft chuckle morph into a groan and you realized you’d been caught. So much for not being teased.

“Like what you see, babe?”

“What if I say no?” You paused so he could fully remove his shirt before grinding against him as he settled back in.

“Then I’ll have to call you on your bullshit and handle you back at mine.” He raised an eyebrow and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. That didn’t sound too bad.

“And if that’s exactly what I want?”

“We both know you hate having your orgasm ripped away from you.” He rolled his eyes and you frowned.

“You wouldn’t…”

“I have before. I’ll do it again.” How could he seem so blase about this? It wasn’t fair. You just wanted to play around but he was threatening to punish you. You huffed quietly before resuming your actions, already regretting it as your thighs began to tremble.

At this point, you weren’t bouncing so much as repeatedly dropping into his lap in a heap. Your legs didn't want to work anymore, they wanted a break. He pulled you into him again and shook his head, caging you against his body when you tried to pull away. “You just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Something about his tone made you dizzy and you couldn’t bring yourself to fight further. You melted into him as he fucked you, peppering kisses along his collarbones. The windows were foggy as the heat from your bodies mingled with the cool air that wrapped around you and the frogs' songs seemed more distant than before - not that you could really hear it over your pulse.

You could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter with each thrust. You dug your fingers into his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself but he went faster, determined to make you cry his name at full volume at least once tonight. “So close-” you gasped and he gently pushed you back just enough for him to see your face.

You looked like an angel. A shower of shooting stars was your backdrop and you were staring at him like he was the only person you’d ever love in any lifetime. Your cheeks and nose were rosy, eyes half-lidded, jaw hanging slack. He was stunned by your beauty. “Let me see you cum.” His voice was strained as he took you in, one hand slipping between your bodies so he could toy with your clit to send you over the edge.

It was as if all you needed was his permission. Your eyes squeezed shut as waves of euphoria crashed over you, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. You finally let out a cry that vaguely sounded like his name as he helped you ride it out and you felt him stiffen inside you.

His thrusts grew sloppy as he neared the finish line. He finally snapped when you opened your eyes to take him in, almost as if he was waiting for you to watch him fall apart too. He was beautiful. His lips were parted slightly, allowing grunts of pleasure to slip out as his brow furrowed. His head tipped back and you almost came again at the sight of him losing himself in you. He let out one final moan, far louder than the rest, as he forced your ass down against his hips one last time, this time holding you in place as his cum filled you.

The croaking of the frogs drummed against your skull as you caught your breath, both of you admiring each other. Yunho was the first to speak. He always was. “You’re fucking amazing, baby.” He groaned softly, bringing his fingers to his lips to lick your juices off of them. “Sweet too.” You opened your mouth to interject but he smiled up at you and your breath caught in your throat. “Whaddaya say we go back to mine for another round?”

<-d-1 | d-3->

#kpop smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez yunho smut #yunho #yunho smut #ateez jeong yunho #jeong yunho #jeong yunho smut #kinktober #alura’s works

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shares-a-vest · 3 months ago

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@steddieangstyaugust Day 8: Miscommunication

wc: 657 | Rated: T | cw: Angst with Unhappy Ending

Tags: Literal Miscommunication, Missing Someone, Angst with Unhappy/Ambiguous Ending, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, Modern Universe

'Steve's Bed'

Steve stares up at the big, stupid canopy hanging over the bed and folds his arms.

What’s the point of such a luxurious, expensive bed if he has to spend so much time in it alone? If he had known that matrimony with a rockstar was going to be like this, well –

Well, maybe he wouldn’t have not not married Eddie Munson but… He would have seriously considered just staying in Hawkins. Or maybe moving to Chicago with Robin. Or Dustin’s fucking college campus where the kid teaches!

Steve frowns �� maybe that last one is a little weird.

But at least he would have someone. Instead of a gigantic bed that has been his alone for so long, he can’t even detect Eddie’s cologne and (still) cheap shampoo on his side of the bed.

A side of the bed that isn’t really owned by someone else anymore.

It is just Steve’s bed.

And he hates it.

He isn’t naive. He knew Corroded Coffin would be touring for months to celebrate their most recent album.

But there were supposed to be breaks at most, phone calls at least.

Even if he doesn’t get to see Eddie in person, he should be able to talk to him or video call.

But nope.

At first, it was a few missed connections. The tour bus was out of range of service on and off, then the hotel Wi-Fi was shoddy. Then Steve discovered that someone at the label screwed up part of the itinerary, so the copies he had on the refrigerator, in his work bag and at his desk at school became all but useless.

When a call finally did come, Eddie was tired and filled with excuses. When it was Steve's turn to talk, he knew his husband was barely listening.

And then it happened again.

And again. Over and over.

Eddie was always distracted or in the middle of doing something else. Even when he said he was available to talk.

Steve used to be able to brush it all off. Have more patience.

He screws his eyes shut, begging the universe (and his brain) to let him get some shut-eye. He needs to start grading papers the moment he gets to school tomorrow.

But his mind is a race of every instance he hasn’t talked to Eddie. Every moment he was almost able to talk to Eddie. Every moment he wanted to. Needed to.

And each time it made him ache.

His heart is aching.

Perhaps more than ever before.

The thing is, he foolishly thought that the whole Rockstar Thing might be temporary. Maybe it's even selfish for Steve to have ever thought that way. He just figured that after they both hit forty, Eddie and the rest of the band might want to slow down. Even settle down.

Hell, he thought that would happen when they finally got married.

But somehow, it got worse.

More lonely.

Steve pulls back the covers, hoping that a late-night snack might lull him into some sort of food coma to get him through the next few hours. He grabs his phone and shucks on a navy-blue robe embossed with his initials, ‘SM’ now.

He clenches his phone in his hand as he walks down the long and winding main hall of the penthouse, mulling over whether he should call Robin at this hour. Steve gathers the collar of his robe tight to his chest, chilled now that he is out of bed. It might be too big and have the world’s most extravagant canopy, but at least the covers are warm.

He grinds to a halt, just shy of the cavernous living area. The whole place has become some sick and twisted version of his former family home. An empty place. Devoid of life. Where he is left cold and alone.

Steve unlocks his phone and squints against the bright screen light, searching for his lawyer’s number.

#posting this a little early so i don't switch this back to a happy ending hehe 😈 (idk the original ending was too much like my last post)#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #steddieangstyaugust #angst with unhappy ending

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pedroshotwifey · 7 months ago

Text

Without Words

This can be seen as a stand-alone but I count it as a part to two this fic

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags/Warnings: Oral (m), cock worship, piv sex, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, sprinkles of feelings, age gap, face fucking, degrading names (affectionate), cum eating, stuff I'm forgetting

Summary: You want to show Joel how much he means to you...but maybe in a less classy way.

A/N: Hey, babes! I hope you enjoy this part! I know a lot of people wanted to see an update, so here we are <3

*****

It’s been another long ass day. You and Joel were able to pick up the same shift, but there was enough work for four people—which is not the norm for the job you’d picked today. It took you three hours too long, but you’d gotten it done. Now that you and Joel aren’t glaring daggers at each other anymore, you’re actually able to be productive.

You walk hand-in-hand with him now toward your shared apartment. It’s been about a year since the two of you had caved into each other, and things honestly couldn’t be better. You’d had your fair share of fights—which is only to be expected with the attitude you both possess—but things have been good.

You moved into his apartment a couple of months ago, since he kept having to sneak out of yours too close to curfew. He practically lived at your apartment, even though his was bigger, because he didn’t want to risk you walking home late at night. It was an effortless change for you.

There was the issue at first about your age difference, and about how people might react when they realize what the two of you had become, but neither of you wanted to let that affect you. It’s the end of the fucking world, as Joel had put it, you both deserve to spend it with whoever you want.

You look up at him, admiring the way he walks so confidently with you on his arm. Like it’s no big deal at all. It took a little while for people to stop giving the two of you strange looks, but even from the start, he had embraced your relationship with no shame.

You haven’t even told him you love him yet.

It’s more of an unspoken thing, you think. Something you show with gifts and actions and physical affection, because deep down, you’re both still broken people in the apocalypse, and you don’t want to admit that you have a weakness. That’s what love is, after all. Just another thing for you to lose.

“Joel?”

It’s only now that you finally lose your composure. All damn day, you’ve been distracted, and you can tell he knew that much, but maybe not exactly what the problem was. Maybe it’s that thought—that you haven’t told him how you feel. But you know that you won’t even now. So you’ve been caught up in other ways to show him, to tell him.

You’ve been thinking about it all night. Ever since the two of you got home from your shift and he shucked his pants off to change. It’s not your fault, really. Not your fault the man has a massive fucking cock that makes a sizable, mouthwatering—and extremely daydream-able—bulge in his boxers.

You’re not usually a weak woman, but. Shit. Nobody would be blaming you for what you’re about to do if they were in the position to do it.

“Let me suck your dick,” you whisper up at him, watching his eyes go wide as he snaps his head left and right to make sure nobody heard that.

The two of you had gone to the last dinner offered at the hall, so it’s pretty dark out, and it’s also been raining for the last hour or so. There are only a few people out other than you since it’s so close to curfew, but Joel’s face still goes a little red at your request. You can’t help but bite your lip to contain your smile.

It really is funny how flustered he gets about you saying something like that when he’s the one who loves to talk about railing you in public. There’s not a single person under the canopy that you stopped under, but he still lowers his voice as he speaks.

“Yes fuckin’ please,” he says through a scoff. “But you couldn’t wait to run that filthy little mouth until we got home?”

You shake your head, smirking at him. You swear you can feel your heart beating against your ribs as you wait for him to understand your request. Your body is going hot from the pure want coursing through your veins.

“I want it now,” you practically whine as you pull on his arm like a petulant child. His eyes go wide again.

“Now?” he asks, obviously a bit shocked at your sudden desperation.

You nod at him, licking your lips.

This time, you catch a small twitch from between his legs before you give him your best doe eyes. You glance at the dark, empty alley a few feet away from you, and his eyes harden. He glances around one more time, clutches your upper arm, and drags you into the concealed space.

“Shit, baby, just be fuckin’ quick about it,” he mutters as he shoves you down to your knees. You smile devilishly up at him as your hands immediately fly to his zipper.

You frantically pull them down, the zip getting stuck halfway due to the massive bulge pushing against the denim. Joel hisses and you whimper as you snag it down quickly, not caring if it breaks or not.

The first time you saw him, you’d had a hard time admitting to yourself that it was the most gorgeous cock you’ve ever laid eyes on. It took a minute for you to understand that he wasn’t a threat, and only then did you allow yourself to appreciate the appendage to the degree that you do now. Since then, you’ve been sure to let Joel know just how much you love it.

It makes your mouth water as you pull it out from his pants. Girthy and long enough to still almost scare you even at half-mast. You know how it fits inside you though, how good it makes you feel when he’s pummeling it into your sore, stretched cunt at full force.

You want it to feel as good as you do, to feel the way your wet, hot mouth can wrap around it and slobber on it until Joel’s thick thighs are shaking with need to spill his seed down your welcoming throat.

The feeling of one of Joel’s hands threading your hair between his fingers and pushing you toward his crotch pulls you out of your daze.

“You gonna suck it or fuckin’ stare at it?”

You shoot Joel an annoyed glance and squeeze him lightly in warning. You give in anyway, however. It really doesn’t take much.

He makes a grunting sound as you take the fat tip of him between your lips, suckling the head and tonguing at his slit as your hand pumps the rest of him. You love the taste of his salty pre-cum on your tongue as you eagerly lap him, trying to get more.

Joel pushes harder on the back of your head and bucks his hips forward—though you’re not sure if that part is voluntary. Your hand moves back to the root of him, holding tightly and pushing him so that he can’t shove himself into your mouth.

You pop your mouth off of him, ignoring the string of spit that keeps you connected to his soaked tip. With heavy lids, you glance up at him to find that he’s staring back at you with a look in his eyes that can only be described as fiery.

“Be patient, old man, I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

Joel scowls at you. “The fuck you mean enjoy yourself? You’re suckin’ my cock,” he snaps.

“Okay, well I happen to really fucking like sucking your cock, Joel, so be. patient.”

He rolls his eyes at you and leans his head back against the brick wall behind him. Satisfied that he’s stopped arguing, you go back to his dick, grabbing it so that the underside of it is facing you.

You lean forward to lick up the entirety of it, coming down to suck and kiss at his balls every couple of strokes. Your head is going a bit fuzzy and your core is throbbing almost painfully with need.

You can’t stop though, you love the feel of his silky skin on your tongue, the way it moves slightly with each pass of your mouth. You moan loudly against him, enough so that it reaches Joel’s ears through the sound of the heavy raindrops pelting the ground and buildings around you.

He pulls sharply on your hair, but is unable to pull you away with how tightly you latch on to his thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut and just about double your efforts to ensure he won’t make you stop.

“Gotta hush, baby. Sound like a fuckin’ whore, moanin’ on my cock like that,” Joel squeezes out at you through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you pull away just enough to retort.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Joel smirks back at you as you get back to work. “Little s-slut just for me.”

When you lean forward this time, you take him fully between your lips, swallowing as much as you can to get him as deep as possible. You know you’re drooling, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’re far too drunk on his taste, his scent, the feel of his cock inside your greedy mouth.

Joel groans as you suck harshly, resisting the urge to gag as you hold him in your hot mouth and fondle his balls. God, you can’t fucking get enough. You pull back again once you literally can’t breathe, but not before taking his balls into your mouth once a piece.

“Fucking love your cock, Joel,” you tell him as you stroke him lazily.

“I know you fuckin’ do, darlin’. Why don’t you show him how much? Make him feel good, hm?”

You nod eagerly at him and put your mouth back on him, bobbing your head and using your hand to tightly pump what you’re not able to reach. Joel makes a choked sound and grips your hair so tight that tears spring to your eyes.

The sounds reverberating through the alley are nasty, but it only turns you on more. Between Joel’s bitten-down moans and the sound coming from his dick being slammed down your throat, it’s a fucking symphony in your ears.

“Shit,” Joel breathes from above you. “Want to be inside you, baby.”

You shake your head as much as you’re able. You want his cum down your throat, that’s the whole point of this. Twin tears trail down your messed cheeks with the movement, but you keep going at a quick but steady pace.

He grunts and pulls on you again, and this time, you’re forced to let go.

“Joooel,” you whine, hands going out to grab at him, only for him to squeeze again and hold you firmly in place.

“You fuckin’ quit that, now,” he commands, and you do. Albeit reluctantly and with a furious pout. His cock bobs tauntingly in front of you, throbbing and glistening with your saliva.

“C’mon, princess. Up.”

You continue pouting but do as he says, letting him haul you up so he can pull your pants and underwear down. You yelp, not expecting that part so quickly. The cool, moist air hits your heated core and you clench your thighs, making it more difficult for Joel to spin you around and shove you against the wall.

He’s behind you again in a heartbeat, the tip of his cock breaching your tight hole as he presses his entire front to your back. You keen as he slides into you, the stretch making your toes curl in your boots.

“See?” Joel mutters into your ear. “Shut you up quick, didn’t it?”

You can only nod as he starts to move inside of you, your slick making it easy for him to build up a quick pace. Your fingers spread out on the brick wall as he grips your hips and thrusts harshly up into you, a sheen of sweat starting to cover your body at the force in which he’s using you with.

He hits your g-spot each time, making you huff out weak little moans to mingle with his grunts. His heavy balls slap against you with each thrust, making a lewd sound against your soaked seam and sending shocks atop your swollen clit.

You mewl as your orgasm starts to build, a warmth starting to spread throughout your entire body. And when Joel brings one hand to wrap around your throat, you just about lose it. He squeezes the sides, cutting off your airflow and making your head spin.

You close your eyes and your senses hone in only on the feeling of his cock spearing into you, the way his grip is so hard on your hip that there are sure to be bruises in the morning. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he uses the opportunity to nuzzle your jaw.

“So s-soft ‘n’ wet for me, ain't ya? Like soaked fuckin’ silk.”

You whimper as much as you’re able, your body starting to shake as you get closer to the edge. Joel lets his fingers ease up from the grip he has on your throat, allowing air to sweep back into your lungs, and you explode.

You moan obscenely as you cream on his cock, his hand moving to your clit to thumb tight circles and prolong your pleasure. Your hands move from the wall to grip hard onto his forearms.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls into your ear.

“M–Please, Joel,” you whine. “Let me swallow–I–”

Joel’s dark laugh startles you, but he moves to give you what you want. He pulls his cock out of you, and you suddenly feel empty. You whine despite yourself, but are quickly distracted again by the way he spins you around and shoves you back to your knees, your pants still pulled down around your ankles.

You watch him dazedly as he fists his drenched cock and then guides it back to your swollen lips. You taste yourself on him as he pumps his hips and glides onto your tongue. He places a hand on the back of your head again, helping you take him.

“There you go, you fuckin’ cum-hungry little slut.”

You moan, and you can tell that’s his undoing as the vibrations travel through his length. He shudders and groans into the empty alley as his balls tug up and he spills into your mouth. You greedily drink him down, gripping his thighs and closing your eyes as you focus on not spilling a single drop.

He pushes your head down until he hits the back of your throat, waiting for you to gag before he slowly pulls all the way back out. You’re both sweaty and panting but you still open your mouth and tilt your head up for approval that you swallowed every bit of his cum. Joel watches you with parted lips and nods.

“Good job, princess,” he tells you, and you smile.

“Alright, baby, I gotta get you home before curfew,” he says after a moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up so it doesn’t look like we just fucked in a damn alley.”

You grin at him and lift your arms for him to help you up again. You don’t tell him that it’s pointless to clean you up since you’ll just end up in the same state once you get home. If there’s one thing that will never dwindle in your relationship, it’s the insatiable hunger that the two of you harbor for one another—and all the messes and mischief that comes with it.

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ichorai · 1 year ago

Text

reset me ; wade wilson.

track twelve of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; wade wilson (deadpool) x mutant!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; charles sends you to recruit deadpool into the x-men. expectedly, the bastard tries to weasel away from you—and when that doesn’t work, he resorts to his most lethal method: flirtation. that, and taping a kick me sign on your back.

words ; 1.3k

themes ; comedy, mild fluff and action, mutant au

warnings / includes ; mild injury/violence, sexual jokes and foul language, a lil bit of banter/terrible flirting, reader has the mutant ability to harness energy into ropes, wade steals blind al's crocs, reader's implied previous romantic relationship with wolverine, mentions of the rest of the x-men :)

Wade’s place smelled like greasy pizza, put-out cigarettes, and old socks. The door wasn’t locked—in fact, it was slightly ajar, and you could clearly hear Wade and Al bickering about missing Crocs.

“I swear I put them right here!” she vehemently exclaimed, gesturing to a potted plant.

Wade rolled his eyes. “Right—because you always hang your Crocs on our leafy greens.”

Al shuffled somewhere into the back of the house, complaining loudly to herself.

You took that as your cue to silently step in, standing just behind Wade, noting with mild amusement that he was wearing a pair of white Crocs. The very ones Al was searching for, you presumed.

In the blink of an eye, Wade whirled about on the heel of his squeaky, rubbery footwear and brandished a knife. Its strangely warm blade slotted against your throat just as you defensively raised your hands.

“Watch it, Wade,” you warned, though you were not at all worried. His knife lowered and flipped back into the depths of his fluffy bathrobe when he realized who you were.

“Oh. It’s you,” he said. The discolored flesh of his face twitched with a grin. “Did Mr. Metal Dick send you? The bullwhip substitute to watch over the class?” He snickered at his own joke, recalling your mutant ability to harness energy into the form of ropes.

“Piotr is off on vacation with Kitty,” you replied, propping your hands up on your hips.

Wade tipped his head back and guffawed. “Do you think he stays that way under the sheets?”

With a grimace, you pinched the space between your brows and sighed loudly. “Jesus, Wade—I don’t fucking know. Why don’t you ask him next time you see him?”

“Good idea.” He shuffled off to shuck open a box of day-old pizza on the table. “You want?”

“No thanks.”

“You sure? It’s pepperoni. You know how expensive it is to get pepperoni nowadays, in this economy? I’m offering you gold flakes on bread, here.”

“Mhm, I’ll pass.” After a considerable silence, only filled with Wade’s loud munching, you tested the waters by saying, “Charles actually sent me.”

Wade gestured at a chair and nudged for you to take a seat. “McAvoy or Stewart?”

“What? Charles Xavier, who’s McAvoy and Stewart?” You sank down onto the creaky wooden chair, frowning at the baby powder rimming the backboard. It was probably Al’s. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was Wade, though.

Ignoring your question, Wade tilted his head and asked, “How’s Yukio? And her emo-face Megasonic Nuclear Bomb-Head girlfriend?”

You smiled slightly, remembering how they were pestering Logan, who’d been working on fixing a motorcycle back at the mansion when you left.

“They’re fine. Wolvie, too.”

“No way!” exclaimed Wade. “Logie’s there, too? Jesus—whole damn gang’s there.”

“Except you,” you pointedly said.

Wade paused mid-chew. “Oh. Oh-ho-ho, I know what you’re doing here. Charles wants me to join his rag-tag team of circus freaks.”

“Wade—”

“The answer is no.”

“Come on—”

“And he wants me to be around all those kids? In a school? Has he met me?”

“Believe me, I don’t know what he’s thinking, either,” you told him, scoffing. “You’re the last person I’d expect to be on the team but… I trust Charles. If he wants you in, there must be a reason why.”

Holding his hands out, Wade shook his head. “Listen, I’m flattered, really, but Deadpool works solo. Except for that one time I formed the X-Force. But that was a team of people I hand-picked! The X-Men just doesn’t sound up my alley, y’know?”

You blew out a breath and fixed him with a serious expression. “Some day you’re gonna have to pull your head out of your ass and realize that there are people out there who are willing to be your friends. Your family. Don’t throw it away, Wade.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he studied you.

“You’re really bad with rejection, aren’t you?” he finally asked, quirking up a brow—or, at least where his eyebrow used to be—and crossed his arms. The Crocs he’d stolen from Al squeaked as he stood up and gestured to the door. “I’m surprised you didn’t go running back to Charles the moment I said no. I’m beginning to think you have a crush on me, or something. Not that I blame you. My face may be fucked but my dick works better than ever. Just ask Al. She’s blind as a bat, but she hears everything in this damn house.”

Immediately, you grimaced. “Ugh. Don’t be crass.”

“What? I thought you were into broken men. Like to pick up their pieces, don’cha? You and Wolvie had that fling once, no? He told me all about it.”

In truth, Logan had told him little to nothing about his brief relationship with you, but Wade had ruthlessly pestered him anyway.

You stiffened at his words, glowering. “You’re exasperating.”

“And you’re looking awfully lovely today. That frown really accentuates your eyes. Makes you look about a decade older.” Wade leaned his weight onto the table, leering over you, patting your back twice. “I find it very attractive.”

With a flick of your hand, a crimson coil of your harnessed energy shot out and thwacked him in his side, and he hissed out a string of curses, backing away from you. You’d burned right through his fluffy white robe, to his simultaneous dismay and astonishment.

“Jesus!” Wade glanced incredulously from you to the slight, shallow gash that formed by his ribs, already starting to heal itself. “That’s actually—that was so fucking cool. Do it again!”

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself away and stood up. “Final time I’m asking. Yes or no?”

Wade pretended to give it a long, hard think. “Mmh…” He wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. “When Piotr comes back from vacation, he’s going to find you and he’s not gonna go as easy on you as I have.”

“Ooh, ouch. Hope he brings some lube with him.” Wade grinned wolfishly.

Completely fed up with him, you ripped out a wad of paper and a pen from your jacket’s pocket, scribbling down your phone number. You folded it in half before shoving it against his chest.

“I’m not giving up on you. I’m a competitive person, Wade. If Piotr was the one to convince you to join, I just wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re literally obsessed with me, I get it,” he remarked, sparing you a lopsided beam. He made a show of pocketing your number on the side of his robe that wasn’t burnt. “You little minx, you.”

With a final flick of your hand, you lashed out another coil around his foot, and made your way to the door just as he fell back onto the couch with a muffled oomf!

Just as you left, you heard Wade cackling to himself through the door you left partially ajar, just as it was when you came in. You chalked it up to him finding it funny that you managed to trip him over with your powers, and strode away from the shoddy house with your lips twitching upwards.

Wade, however, was laughing because he’d successfully pulled off taping a kick me sign onto your back without you noticing. A low and childish blow, but would certainly make for some fun banter whenever he saw you again—which, he suspected, would be pretty soon.

Plus, Wade thought you were pretty cute when you were riled up.

#wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #deadpool fanfic #deadpool imagines #deadpool drabbles #wade wilson imagines #wade wilson drabbles #wade wilson scenarios #deadpool scenarios #wade wilson fanfiction #marvel drabbles #wade wilson fluff #deadpool fluff #wade wilson x you #deadpool x you

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jeeseth · 2 months ago

Text

rockstar’s

pairing , yoon jiyoon x fem!reader

summary , your best friend jiyoon is in the school band and you kept feeling lonely as she gets busy with band practice. while she performs in front of the whole school, she decides to surprise you. even though .. it wasn’t really her thing .

tags — fluff, non-idol au, high school au, grumpy x sunshine, guitarist!jiyoon, best friends to lovers . ( grammatical errors )

"she fell down the stairs- yoon jiyoon are you even listening?!" you stops talking as you noticed jiyoon staring at you and probably not even listening to the story you’re telling her.

she seems to be lost in thoughts as she kept staring at you. you hate to admit it but she looks so… damn attractive right now. she has always been but, that thick black frame glasses plus she’s leaning against her palm while spacing out? god damn.

she finally snapped out of her thoughts when you suddenly smacked her on her shoulder.

"ouch, what the hell?" she hissed and rubbed the shoulders where you smacked her.

"you weren’t listening to me! what were you even thinking about.." you pouted while jiyoon just send a glare towards you.

"nothing. i’m sorry."

you can still remember the first time you saw jiyoon. she was sitting there looking all grumpy and unapproachable, but there was something about her that intrigued you. as you got to know her better, you realized that she was actually a really nice person, just a bit rough around the edges. and a bit mean too.

over time, you two became really good friends. you spent lots of time together, hanging out, studying, and goofing around. and before you knew it, you feelings for her had deepened into something more than friendship...

jiyoon’s cold demeanor started to soften, and she started to open up to you more and more. she started to let her guard down and reveal the warm and caring side of herself that she usually kept hidden (maybe a bit only). you laughed and joked and had the best times together. And all the while, your feelings for her keep grew stronger and stronger.

you wasn't sure how to tell her how you felt, though. she was always so guarded, and you didn't want to risk ruining your friendship. and you also doesn’t know if she even feels the same way towards you.

"look who’s spacing out now."

you didn’t realise it. you were literally looking at her while spacing out. and why the hell is she suddenly so damn close to your face. you can feel you heartbeat quickens as she gets closer. you’re afraid that she might hear your heartbeat racing so you push her face away softly.

"s-shut up…" you stuttered and look away, to shy to even look at jiyoon in the eyes.

jiyoon lips turns into a small smile but you didn’t catch it. you look back at jiyoon as you heard her standing up. you look up at her curiously.

"where you going?" you asks, quite sad that she’s leaving already. jiyoon sighs before patting your head.

"i got band practice remember? i have to go."

your mind drifted back to the day she told you that she’s gonna be busy this week because she’s preparing for a band performance for this school event. it’s a special event that will be held next week after all the students who had been trying so hard during the exams. so this is lowkey like to cheer everyone up?

"aww… shucks." you mumbled before standing up too. jiyoon let out a small smile before handing you a lollipop, your favourite flavour too.

"see you later."

she said and walked away, leaving you alone in the library. you know too damn well you’re gonna miss her later. you hated this feeling, feeling like you’re left all alone. you sighs before unwrapping the lollipop and pop it into your mouth. well, you just gotta wait see jiyoon again tomorrow.

your day went on pretty smoothly today, nothing bad seems to happen yet knowing how clumsy you can be sometimes. even though your day been going well, you still can’t help but feel a pang of longing. jiyoon has always been stuck to your side but since she’s busy, you find yourself being more quiet than usual. this lowkey causes your classmates to freak out.

during recess, you decided to find jiyoon and maybe have a small talk with her since she doesn’t speak too much even around you. would it be weird if i say that you get lost in your own school? well it is lowkey your fault for not remembering where the band practice room is. and just as you about to asked a random student you saw mai from afar. that’s when it hits you. mai is also a member in the band. you quickly catch up to her before she gets a little too far.

"mai unnie!" you shouted from afar, catching mai’s attention. she turned around and was greeted by the sight of you panting. all tired from catching up to her. what’s wrong with people who have long legs. they walk too damn fast.

"oh? y/n is it?" mai asked as she looks at you, recognising your features.

"yes! unnie are you heading to your band practice?" you asked, your breathing finally back to normal.

"well yea i am. wanna come along? you missed jiyoon don’t you" mai grinned. your cheeks flushed a bright pink at the mention of jiyoon. well, you admit that you’ve been dying to see jiyoon again.

"i’m just kidding come on, let’s go" mai smiled and started leading the way, all the while having you walking side by side with her.

while walking, you didn’t really realise how much you were talking to her knowing how extroverted you are. but by seeing how mai seems to listen and reply to you, you couldn’t help but to feel happy that someone is listening to your story.

as you two arrived at the band practice room, you were greeted with the sight of them practicing individually. your eyes immediately landed on jiyoon, she was tuning her guitar while koko were watching her doing so.

"jiyoon, your girlfriend here" mai blurted out, causing you to choke on your own saliva. you swear you can feel all the eyes on you as you slowly turns into the same colour as a tomato. oh my god.

"girlfriend?"

"girlfriend?!"

"girlfriend!"

jiyoon stops tuning her guitar and turns to look your way. she noticed you were avoiding everyone eyes and she smiles to herself before putting down her guitar and walking over to you. she gives mai a glare before mumbling.

"we’re just friends, nothing more.." jiyoon mumbled and went your way. ouch?

jiyoon sighs as leans against the doorway while looking down at you since you’re shorter than her. "hey, i didn’t expect you to be here."

"i was bored okay, plus i has no one to talk to!" you whines softly, not catching the way jiyoon smiles lit up at your cute little whining.

"whatever. have you eaten yet?"

"nope, i don’t really feel like eating anything today."

jiyoon furrowed her eyebrows as you said that. she may be cold and mean to you sometimes but, deep down she really cares about your wellbeing. that’s why you will never catch yourself not eating when she’s around.

"what- why not?" jiyoon asked, her tone serious. "you could’ve passed out again you know. come, let’s go-"

"jiyoon it’s fine! you have practice right? i don’t want you to waste your time accompanying me to eat…" you shakes your head.

"shut up. your health is more important. at least fill your stomach a bit." she muttered before walking to the cafeteria. you groans while rolling your eyes and chase after her. and once again, you hates people with long legs.

now it’s a day before the big event, and everyone seemed to be practicing very hard today. you don’t know why but, you find yourself occasionally going to the band practice room to see jiyoon. i won’t say that though… because you’re literally peeking through the door like a creep. and no the girls is totally fine with it! they even invited you to be their first ever guest and you couldn’t be more excited.

of course you didn’t just sit there and watch them. every time they’re taking a break, you’ll make sure to bring them some enough water and even some snacks for saebi. wait, have i mentioned how clingy saebi is with you? basically, whenever you stopped by to see them (jiyoon), saebi will always be at the door waiting for you. such a cutie!

well that pretty much explains why you’re in this situation. you’re just sitting on the floor with saebi hugging your side, it’s been like this for more than five minutes. and here’s the thing, you don’t mind saebi sticking to you but, she really seems like she doesn’t wanna go practicing anytime soon, causing the others to be mad at her.

"jeong saebi hurry up! it’s tiring you know!" jungeun shouted, startling poor saebi. the other members were already in their position, just waiting for saebi now.

"saebi go practice, unnie will treat you ice cream later okay?" you soothed her which immediately makes the pout on saebi’s face turns into a bright smile. she quickly agreed and went to her position. sarang mouth went wide open at seeing how easy for you to soothe her.

you giggles softly at saebi’s behaviour. you turn to look at jiyoon who immediately shifted her gaze away from you. why is she suddenly like this? you just shrugged it off and watch them practice.

after two rounds of nonstop practicing, they all went out to take a break but not jiyoon. she stayed in the practice room to clean and tune her guitar. her grumpy demeanour were clearly visible on her face.

"jiyoon, you’re not going with them?" you asks as you stood up from the floor. jiyoon simply shakes her head and continue cleaning her guitar.

you took notice at how she’s acting way grumpier than she already is. you let out a small smiles before taking a seat next to her on the couch. you know too damn well why she’s suddenly like this. and it’s honestly cute.

"hey, talk to me" you poked her side, and in return you earned a glare from her. you pouted and fiddled with the hem of your skirt instead.

"there’s nothing to talk about. i’m busy." jiyoon muttered, her eyes fixated on her guitar.

"jiyoon.." you whines, poking her sides again. "don’t be mad at me"

"i’m not."

"you’re jealous aren’t you?" you said, making jiyoon stops at what she was doing.

"i-i’m not. you’re bluffing." she huffed and looks away. she’s a bad liar, and you knows it. judging by how red her is there’s no way she ain’t jealous.

"aw come on! saebi is just like a little sister to me!"

"i don’t care. i’m not jealous."

"stop lying!"

it’s now late in the evening, most of the students already went home and here you are sitting in detention. long story short, the teacher caught you skipping class (you just wanna see jiyoon) and that’s how you ended up here. sadly.

the detention already ended around six minutes ago but you didn’t realise it since you fell asleep. not until, you felt a tap on your shoulder causing you to wakes up from your deep slumber. you groans and swatted whoever hands was that.

"wake up sleepyhead."

you immediately jolted awake as you hear her voice. jiyoon’s voice. you squinted your eyes to make sure that it was really jiyoon and once you saw her you gasped.

"jiyoon? what are you still doing here? school ended two hours ago!" you said, clearly not understanding why jiyoon is still here at this hour.

"i was waiting for you, idiot." she ruffles your hair softly.

you felt your heartbeat quickened. first her words, second the way she effortlessly ruffling your hair right now. oh my.

"stop staring at me. let’s go home." she sighs and slings your bag over her shoulder. all the while, her own bag on her other shoulder. you stood up and tried to stop her but she beats you to it.

jiyoon walks away, leaving you speechless. what the hell is happening right after you wake up? you shouted her name and chase after her.

the walk home was peaceful. you two shared some small talks together. you gazed up at the sky, seeing at how it’s gonna turn dark soon. jiyoon eyes landed on you. oh how the sun reflects on your features and it is driving her insane.

"hey, what were you doing while i’m in detention?" you asks, breaking the silence.

"i was practicing a special song for tomorrow." jiyoon mumbled as you two keeps walking side by side. occasionally bumping into each other’s shoulders.

"special song? you wrote it?" you asks and she nodded in response. you look at her and excitedly. jiyoon wrote a song to perform tomorrow? can’t wait!

"omg! really? why you never tell me?!" you shirked, startling jiyoon at your sudden loudness. she rubbed her poor ears and you smack her playfully which caused her to let out a small giggle.

"it’s a secret that’s why, you just gotta wait for tomorrow" jiyoon smiles.

"oh trust me, i’ll be there in the crowd!" you laughs and you two continue your journey back home.

you’d be lying if you said you’re not struggling to get a seat as near as the stage. like why are all this people also here hello? were you pissed? yes. you’re literally their friend so you really think that you deserve to be at the front but no. guess what, your seat is almost at the back.

you finally calmed down after fuko managed to get you to. if it wasn’t for her, you definitely will already started throwing hands. fuko to the rescue indeed (i miss fuko)

"you reckon they’ll be starting soon?" fuko asks, curiously tip toeing so that she can see whatever is going on at the stage. you only shrugged at her, clearly not in the mood anymore since you didn’t get the front row. you slumped lazily on the chair while fuko keeps trying to get you to stand up.

"unnie, i’m not in the mood-" suddenly the sounds of guitar filled the stage making you jolted up from your seat immediately.

"OH MY GOD! UNNIE LIFT ME UP I CANT SEE SHIT" you exclaimed excitedly. fuko looks at you with disbelief. didn’t you say you’re not in the mood earlier? the heck happened.

as the lights flickered on, your eyes immediately landed on no other than yoon jiyoon. she looks so damn good in that grey baggy shirt plus her thick framed glasses. you could die happily right now.

the stages goes on and on, and every time they switched to another song your mouth kept widening. they all did so well! and you couldn’t be more proud.

after performing a few songs, they have a little talk and break on the stage. and all the while, jiyoon were looking for you in the crowd. she tried her best to not make it obvious though but you obviously caught her looking for you! so you pulled out the banner you make to wave at her. you saw that jiyoon tried her best to contains her smile when she saw what was written on the banner. in bold letter it says : yoon jiyoon my number one rockstar! it was goofy but it’s you so she’s completely fine with it. no. she loves it.

after what felt like an eternity, the performance finally comes to and end. you felt kinda sad that it’s ending already. but suddenly the sound of jiyoon clearing her throat caught your attention.

"before we end this performance, i would like to play one more song." jiyoon said, making the crowd cheers with excitement.

"i heard this song is special isn’t it, jiyoon?" jeemin teased and jiyoon only laughs softly.

"well yeah… this song is pretty special. apparently, i spent my time writing it while thinking about someone." jiyoon admitted shyly and her band members started teasing her and so is the crowd.

"well, i hope that someone listens to this until the very end."

and just like that, jiyoon swiftly strummed her guitar. the melody was soft and calming. totally different to what they just performed. as the song goes on, you felt your heart melted at the sweet lyrics. it isn’t what you expect from jiyoon but yeah.

the song finally comes to and end and the crowd erupted with cheers and claps. but you saw on the big screen that jiyoon was hesitating to say something. jiyoon let out a shaky breath before gripping the mic.

"this song is for you, kim y/n."

that’s when it hits you. just as the same times the fireworks erupted into the night sky. you couldn’t believe it. fuko was shaking you aggressively but your eyes met jiyoon’s. am i dreaming?

you patiently waited at one of the food stalls for jiyoon. it’s not packed with many people but sure there are a few only. at this point, you honestly doesn’t know what to feel. are you shocked? yes. are you happy? yes. everything just seems to swirls round and round inside your head.

"hey… take this." your head snaps up as you heard jiyoon’s voice. she’s avoiding your eyes while holding the bouquet of flowers in front of your face. you giggles softly as you take the flowers from her hands.

jiyoon cleared her throat before speaking, "uh yeah so um… like is it cool? d-do you think the song is… cool?" jiyoon cursed herself as she stuttered.

"yeah, i love it" you smiles.

"i can’t keep it much longer. kim y/n, will you-"

"yes" you cut her off, catching her off guard. jiyoon tried to act annoyed by it but the smile that crept up her lips prevented her from doing so.

"you didn’t even let me finish my word, idiot." jiyoon chuckles and softly ruffles your hair.

"okay so, wanna grab something to eat?" jiyoon mumbled.

"sure babe." you smiles and hold jiyoon’s hands.

babe? jiyoon felt like running, screaming, giggling right here right now. she can’t believe it. your hands in hers, intertwined together. the soft giggles that came out from your mouth only makes jiyoon smiles brighter. she wouldn’t have it no other way. she has the most precious girl with her.

a/n — i indeed does not like the ending.

#jiyoon #yoon jiyoon #jiyoon izna #yoonjiyoon x femreader #izna x reader #izna #iland2 #kpop #wlw #jeeseth #dew’s 🍈

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joonsmagicshop · 4 months ago

Text

Wait For Me?

Summary: Yoongi has to leave you for two whole weeks because of work. He asks you to wait for him and you get a very naughty idea, what if while you wait for him...he waits for you too

Paring: Yoongi/Reader

Work Count: 8K

Rating: M/18+

Tags: smut, sub Yoongi, slight dom Yoongi, Dom reader, not cuming for two weeks. desperate Yoongi, dirty talk, mentions of Yoongi's balls (We have all seen the bulge pics), video call masturbation, eating pussy, Yoongi is a whiny boy, reader calls him baby boy and gives him pet names.

Authors Note: Tag list people I am so sorry!!!!! I was fixing my tumblr and completely deleted this fic on accident so this is a repost. Also this is filth like this is absolutely top five filthiest things I have written (so far) so please enjoy

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

As you were about to take the chocolate chip muffins out of the oven your phone vibrated loudly against the countertop.

You hastily took them out, knowing how easy it would be to get distracted by your phone and burn the surprise you worked on for your boyfriend Yoongi.

You placed them on the stovetop to cool and quickly shucked off the bright blue oven mits Yoongi had bought you last Christmas and you picked up your phone to see a message from him.

Yoongi: Sorry darling looks like we have a meeting that is going longer than we thought. I’ll be home later. I’ll pick up something for dinner though

You frown when you read the message as you check the clock, it’s already five and Yoongi should have been on his way home.

You knew what you were getting into dating Min Yoongi of BTS and while you had assured him time and time again you were okay with him working long hours, being gone for days even months at a time and you were okay with being hidden for your own safety, sometimes it still made you sad how little time you got to spend with him.

You: It’s okay Yoongs. You pick up dinner I already made dessert so we are even ;)

Yoongi: Is this a euphemism or did you actually make dessert… I do remember promising to eat you out after we couldn’t wait to fuck last time

You: Gonna have to come home and find out sweetness, though I like the way you think and I’m holding you to that promise ;)

You felt yourself blush as you slowly took the now-cooled muffins out of the tin and began to place them in a plastic container.

Yoongi: Fuck.

You shake your head with a small smile on your face as you make your way back to the couch. You gather up your big blanket and drape it over your bare legs as you open your book to the page it was on before the timer dinged. You figured you might as well get settled in while you waited for Yoongi.

Yoongi: Well I know what’s on the menu for dessert ;) But what do you want me to pick up for dinner?

You blush when you read his message and feel a giddiness spread throughout your veins.

You: Whatever you like sweetness. I’m providing dessert anyway so your choice.

Yoongi: Babe you're going to make me hard in this meeting

You: I can’t help it if I like flustering my boy. Love it when you get all blushy and hard over something as simple as eating pussy.

Yoongi: Namjoon is shooting me death glares because I can’t concentrate you minx.

You giggle again and send him a winky face before locking your phone and opening your book with a satisfied smile.

Two hours later you hear the front door open and you tilt your head back to see Yoongi standing there in a plain white teeshirt and sweats. His hair is long and falling in front of his exquisite face and you put your bookmark in your book and saunter over to him.

You help him by taking some of the takeout food bags and you both comfortably slide into your routine of him setting the table and you setting the food up.

You both take your usual places at the table and you give him a quick peck on the cheek as you sit. His face flushes red and you grin at how easily flustered he seems to get with small acts of affection.

You talk about your day and Yoongi listens as you both dig in. The sunlight has long faded and you light some candles and dim the lights for the ambiance of it all.

Yoongi is usually pretty shy and quiet but tonight he seems extra quiet, letting your voice and stories fill the silence as he chews his food and sips his water.

You can tell something is off and while you want to give Yoongi the space to tell you himself as the night goes on he seems to draw into himself more, hardly looking at you and making himself smaller.

“Yoongs everything okay?” You ask as you stand to clean the dishes.

“I uh. Yeah. I mean. Our meeting today was shit.” He says as you abandon cleaning to shove your chair closer to his, letting your bare knee brush against his clothed one and intertwining your fingers with his long ones.

“You can talk to me about it you know. Here I was blabbing about my day when you had a crappy day. I’m sorry sweetness.” You say as he lowers his eyes to your intertwined hands and your stomach jolts with nerves.

“It’s okay I like hearing about your day. I love your voice.” He whispers.

You rub your thumb across his and give him time and space to speak.

“We got news today that we have a press release to do. In Los Angeles.” He mutters keeping his voice low as the candle on the table flickers and illuminates the beautiful curves of his face.

“That’s awesome Yoongi. You always have fun when you go to the States! When do you leave?” You ask brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes.

His mouth forms a hard line and your stomach drops.

“Tomorrow morning, eight am. Bright and early. Gone for two weeks…as of now” He scoffs as you feel your heart sink in your chest.

Yoongi just got home a week ago and you had all these plans and house renovations you wanted to complete and they were sending him away early.

“Namjoon was pissed. He said we had just gotten home and hardly had time to spend with loved ones before we were whisked away again. PR told us we don’t have a choice.” Yoongi grits out looking angry and torn as he rakes his hands through his hair to push it back from his face.

You rub his palm with your thumb trying to soothe him as he rants on.

About how unfair it is

About how much he loves the fans but he doesn’t want to leave again when he just got back

About how Hoseok complained because he promised his family he would spend a week away with them at their summer home and now he can’t

You take it all in and let Yoongi rant. You see how tense his shoulders get and you quickly get up off your chair to hug him.

“I’m so sorry Yoongs. I know you don’t want to go.” You say softly petting his hair as he melts into your shoulder and lets you comfort him.

“I just got you back I don’t want to go again. I hate leaving you.” He whines as you deliver a soft kiss to the crown of his head and he looks up at you through wide eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you too much. I lost you for two months now I get you back for a week and I’m gone again. I didn’t even get to fuck you as much as I planned.” He pouts which has you smirking and blushing as you rake your hands through his soft dark locks.

“We did have plans to make up for lost time.'“ You tease as Yoongi groans and closes his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. Being away from you last time was torture. Two whole months without you and this week we were so busy we hardly had alone time. And I had all these plans and things I wanted to do sexually and now we can’t” He groaned.

You let out a laugh.

“You were planning our sex life while working?” You ask in disbelief.

“Nah usually at night when I couldn’t sleep. I find staring at the ceiling dealing with time zone differences and jet lag gives you all sorts of time to think….and plan.” He says with a grin that has your pulse racing.

“You horndog!” You tease smacking his arm as he wraps his arms around you caging you in.

“Says the one who got me hard during a meeting today! I don’t even have time for dessert I have to start packing.” He says sadly.

“Sweetness I like the way you think but I did make dessert. Well…chocolate chip muffins. Bring them with you and share them with the boys.” You say as he stares up at you.

“As long as I don’t have to share you I’ll share the muffins….I guess.” He teases as you press a kiss to his forehead and smile against his warm skin.

You pull away and he gets up from his chair and you both get to work cleaning the kitchen. You had to admit the evening took a somber turn and even though you tried to be happy and excited for Yoongi and the band heading to LA for more press and to get their names out there, you were going to miss him terribly. A week was not enough time especially when you spent most of it visiting with your family, or his, or catching up with friends who missed you both.

After the kitchen is clean you both end up in the bedroom. Instead of sexy times, you are sprawled on the bed watching as he grabs his large black suitcase and places it on the bed next to you, then goes through all his drawers to see what he needs.

“Ugh, it’s going to be cold in LA. I’m going to have to pack so many sweaters and they take up so much room.” He sighs as he places a stacked pile of neatly folded sweaters on the bed and you watch as he sorts them all.

“Well save some for me. I like to wear your stuff when you’re gone.” You remind him with a grin as he picks a sweater from the bottom of the pile to throw your way.

It’s the soft black pullover sweater he wears all the time that no matter how many times it’s washed it always smells like him.

You grin and throw it over your head.

“It should just be yours. You look so much cuter in it than I do,” he admits as you crawl forward on the bed pushing his luggage out of the way to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Don’t say that Yoongs. You are just as cute as me if not cuter.” You tease which has him blushing pink and grinning like a fool.

“I’m not cute.” He mutters though you can tell he is pleased with being called cute.

Something you learned about Yoongi was as much as he adored receiving compliments he had a hard time accepting them and believing them. It was something the two of you were working on.

“Nope, my cute detector is going crazy every time I’m near you so it must be you who is the cute one.” You reply making beeping noises that have him blushing and giggling behind his hands

“You are so cute Yoongs. Especially when you wear sweaters that are too big and it gives you sweater paws, or when the weather is cold and your cheeks get extra rosy, or when you pretend to be this big and bad rapper but you become my subby little boy behind closed doors.” You continue as he gasps and you see a blush flood his cheeks.

“Stoppp you're making me blush!” He whines as you giggle and grab his wrists to move his hands from his pretty flushed face.

“Was that something you were thinking about on those long nights? How good it feels to be my subby baby boy and let me do whatever I want to you? Hmm?” You tease as you feel a sort of power heat up your skin at Yoongi’s flushed expression.

It took almost a year for Yoongi to admit that while he loves being in control during sex he also likes to be taken care of. You both had a long conversation about it and in your mind it made sense. Yoongi was the type of person to put everyone else first and always take care of others. Of course, he would like to be taken care of as well.

You had started playing around with the dynamic six months ago but with all his traveling you were having less and less time to explore this new and exciting part of your sex life.

“Y/N You’re gonna make me hard.” He whines as you look down to see a sizeable bulge in his sweats and you grin in satisfaction.

“My sweetness getting so hard just from thinking about me playing with him hmm? So horny Yoongs.” You provoked as your hand slipped from his shoulder to down his firm chest as you watched him suck in a breath. By the time you made it to his sizeable bulge, his cock was straining against the material and stretching it to show off his impressive length and girth.

“Y/N. I-” He looked at the alarm clock on the night table and groaned. “We don’t have time. I have to be up in five hours for the airport.”

You knew he was right but that didn’t stop you from giving his cock a squeeze which had a high whine leaving his mouth.

“You are right. I kind of hate that you’re right though.” You say with a soft laugh as you try to hide how affected you were by the whole thing too.

“Believe me I do too. I’m gonna miss you. I’m gonna miss this.” He admits as he leans in and kisses you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders again and sit back on your knees as Yoongi deepens the kiss. His hair is soft and tickles your face as your mouth molds to his and you feel him smile against your lips.

“You will wait for me right?” He asks in a small voice when he finally pulls away from the kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere Yoongs.” You reply in the same small voice as he shoots you a small smile.

He pulls away and continues to pack as you lay back down on the bed and answer some messages on your phone.

You can’t help but stare at your hot boyfriend and the fact his bulge is still evident in his pants. You could see the outline and while he seemed to be nonchalant about it you were not and it was making you needy.

He moved around the room collecting things and you ogled him until an idea popped into your head. A way for you both to still explore things sexually while he was out of town.

You of course had already tried sexting and very naked video calls but this would be something…new. Something that made your core throb and your heart race.

“Okay, I’m packed,” Yoongi announces snapping you from your thoughts as you stare at him with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, I know that look. You are scheming and planning something. What is it?” He asks as you abandon your phone and push yourself off the bed to stand in front of him.

“Yoongi. You know how you asked if I’d wait for you.” You start slowly trying to control your excitement.

“The conversation we had five minutes ago...yes?” He teases as you bite your lip.

“Can you promise you will wait for me too?” You ask batting your eyes at him.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” He says voice low.

“Well. You like being my subby sweet boy don’t you.” You ask with a dark tone to your voice and a tilt of your head.

Yoongi swallows hard and nods.

“And you lay in your bed all alone and think of me, and plan fun sexy things to do when you get home.” You goad as he nods again.

“And does my Yoongi touch himself when he thinks about these things? Do you wrap your fingers around your cock and try to stay quiet while jerking yourself off?” You ask as Yoongi’s eyes are blown wide.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Well, this time. You won’t. If I have to wait for you, I want you to wait for me. Two weeks. No cumming until you get home.” You say firmly as Yoongi’s mouth drops open and he gasps.

“Y/N” He whines but by the look in his eye you know he really likes this idea.

“You can’t tell me you can’t hold back for only two weeks. Are you an animal Yoongs? Do you really need your hands around you cock that bad?”

He shakes his head, lips parted and wet from licking them as he stares at you in shock.

“I-fuck I hate that idea but it’s also hot as fuck.” He admits as you trail a fingernail down his chest and he sucks in a gasp.

“Why? You want me to sit here and wait for you while you get to travel the world Are you telling me you are so fucking needy you can’t last two weeks without jerking off?” You bite out

“I think I’ll explode.” He admits shyly as you smirk.

“You will explode… when you get home. All over my face, or in my mouth, or pussy. I guess I have two weeks to decide don’t I?” You ask him as he nods.

You trail your hand down further and when you get to his sizeable bulge you cup it and he cries out softly. His cock jerks in your hand and his head lolls forward to watch your movements.

You waste no time slipping your hand in his pants and encircling his hard cock. Yoongi groans when you jerk him root to tip, and when you flick your hand over the crown of his cock your fingers are soaked with precum.

“So messy Yoongs.” You taunt as he thrusts up in your hand and fucks your fist.

It takes hardly any time before he is whining your name and spilling all over your fist. You work him through it and Yoongi is a whining shaking mess as you slow your movements and remove your hand.

You go to the ensuite bathroom to get cleaned up and you smirk when you can hear Yoongi’s labored breathing. You feel your arousal stick to your sleep shorts and you try to ignore the insistent throbbing of your pussy as you wash your hands.

When you come back in the bedroom the luggage is moved to the floor and Yoongi is flopped on his back on the bed in just his boxers

You stand in front of him with a warm cloth and Yoongi opens his eyes long enough to watch as you pull his boxers down to free his now soft cock and you take your time wiping him clean though most of his release got on your fist anyway.

You throw the cloth in the laundry and cup his now soft cock in your hand.

“D-Don’t Sensitive.” He whines out as you release his cock to cup his balls.

“All nice and empty Yoongs. If they look like this when you come home you are in big trouble.” You warn as he shivers under you and you tuck him back into his boxers.

You slide into bed next to him and he rolls over to spoon you taking his time wrapping his arms around you and pushing his cock into your backside, you can start to feel hardening again.

“Really Yoongi?” You tease as he chuckles softly in your hair.

“I can’t help it you are so hot. And the fact you aren’t letting me cum for two weeks. It’s going to be torture but it’s also kind of hot.” He admits as you smile against the pillow and fall asleep.

Seven days in and everything seemed to be okay.

You both got into an easy rhythm of texting each other when you could and sending pictures throughout the day.

His pictures always made you smile and miss him even more as you finally got to the weekend of your first week.

He had told you he was going to have Friday night off so you agreed to video call, showering right after work, and making a quick dinner so you could see him regardless of the time difference.

When you heard the shrill ring of your phone you bolted towards it almost knocking it right off the bed as you scrambled to answer.

Your heart thumped wildly when you saw his face on the screen. He looked just as beautiful as he did when he left and you both took the time to get caught up.

Joy seemed to radiate off both of you in waves and after almost two hours you finally had run out of things to say.

“It sounds like you are having a blast Yoongi! I knew you’d have fun!” You say as you pull the blankets up higher on your legs and get the pillows behind your back to prop yourself up.

Yoongi shoots you a gummy smile and you smile back at him, feeling warmth radiate from your chest. You love him so much it’s insane.

“Yeah I’m having fun, but I still miss you.” He acknowledges as you grin and rub your legs together to try and warm them up. The bed is always a lot colder when he is gone and the raging windstorm outside doesn’t help.

“I miss you too Yoongs. I miss your smile and your hugs and how you always make the perfect breakfast for me. I miss when you sing under your breath and I miss your hands.”

“My… hands?” He asks cutting you off with a confused expression

“Well, your fingers I guess. You have such nice fingers and hands Yoongi. Your hands are all veiny and your fingers are so long…” You trail off as you cock and eyebrow and Yoongi’s lips part.

“Yeah…” He says lowly as you feel arousal pool in your panties

Insatiable need coursed through your veins as you remember the last time you were with Yoongi. How you wrapped your hand around his cock and made him fall apart without even fully getting him naked. How he instantly succumbed to your idea of making him wait two weeks to cum and how whiny and needy he was that night.

“You know I love your hands Yoongs, and other parts of you.” You tease as you run your hand under the blanket out of his line of sight and you spread your legs as you dip your fingers into your waistband to find your aching core already wet with arousal.

“W-What are you doing?” He asks with a fiery gaze trailing up and down your body.

“I’m so horny Yoongs. We didn’t have time to take care of me before you left.” You whine as you circle your clit and your hips jolt involuntarily causing the phone to jerk.

“Just thinking about my hands get you that wet?” He mutters as you continue to give your clit light pressure and open your legs wider to give your hand more room.

You can feel his eyes on your body, his gaze piercing as you keep your eyes closed and give in to the sensation that is flooding your body.

It has been so long since you were touched even your hand is making you ache as you shift your hips to slip one finger inside your body, gasping when your tight heat sucks the finger right in.

“Fuck you’re making me so fucking hard,” Yoongi swore as he watched you pleasure yourself. His cock was sitting in his boxers rock hard and leaking, the weight of it and the heat of it against his skin was making him antsy and he longed to wrap a palm around it and make himself cum.

“Didn’t you say you would wait for me?” He teases as you flutter your eyes open and stare at him with a wicked grin on your face.

“I said I’d wait for you to come home. I never said I couldn’t cum, just you.” You said as Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock and his cock twitched pathetically in his underwear.

“You- I? How is that fair!” He groaned as you curled your finger inside your body and your hips rutted against it. You are aching to be filled even more so you add another finger and scissor them, trying to mimic how Yoongi’s cock would stretch you out.

“It’s fair because you're my subby boy. I don’t take orders from you Yoongs. You promised to be a good boy and not cum. You were so turned on you didn’t bother reading the fine print. Or asking for terms.”

You don’t bother to look at him when you respond. Instead, you curl your fingers against your front wall and let a moan spill from your lips as you ride your fingers.

“Y/N you- you can’t.” He whines out and when you finally open your eyes Yoongi is a mess. His hair is sweaty and plastered to his forehead, his cheeks are a dusty pink color and you can see how his teeth scrape his bottom lip in desperation as you pump your fingers in and out of your body, moving the phone close so he can hear the obscene noises.

“What if I cum untouched? That can’t count, right? I’m so fucking hard baby I can’t.” He breathes out, voice high-pitched and panicked as you snicker and halt your movements.

“Take off your boxers I wanna see your cock.” You demand as you prop the phone up on some spare pillows and Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief as he does the same with his phone and pulls his boxers down.

His cock springs up and hits his clothed stomach and you take him in. The crown is flushed a deep red and the vein that spirals up his cock is protruding and angry looking. His cock twitches against his stomach and you watch as he circles it with his hand.

“Did I say you could touch? You are supposed to be a good boy not a fucking animal who can’t control himself!” You bark as Yoongi rips his hand from his cock and his hips thrust up into thin air.

“You- You said I could take them off!” He argues as you stare at him through the screen and take in how truly fucked out he looks.

“Never said you could touch. That’s strike one. Strike three and you will be punished. I wanted you to take it out so I could make sure my bad boy didn’t disobey me.” You tell him as he gasps and quickly sits on his hands to stop himself from touching. His cock twitches weakly against his stomach and pearls of precum dribble out and coat his shirt

“Such a leaky whore for me Yoongi.” You growl as you open your legs wider and begin to circle your clit again.

Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away from your body and he whines and wiggles on the bed desperate to get his hand around his cock. He is so hard it is starting to hurt.

You continue to rub your clit and feel the coil of pressure get tighter in your stomach. Yoongi looks so desperate, so fucked out from watching you it turns you on more.

“Please, baby.” He cries out as you watch his cock twitch on his stomach and more precum oozes out.

“Please what Yoongi? If you're going to beg me to let you touch yourself the answer is no.” You growl as you speed up your movements knowing you are getting closer with every pass of your finger over your aching clit.

“Please cum for me, baby. I want to watch you watch you fall apart. Please my cock can’t take much more I need you to cum or I might cum on accident.” He admits as he stares at you in a frenzy.

His words set you off and you cum, crying out his name and arching off the bed as you ride out your high. You can hardly hear Yoongi’s desperate whines as you thrash on the bed and when you finally come down and the ringing in your ears stops you stare at the screen to see Yoongi who is staring at you with desperation etched into his features.

“I’m not going to let you cum Yoongs. Not until you’re home.” You say as you pull the blankets back over your lap and run a shaky hand through your hair.

You can see his cock throb again and Yoongi whines and ruts his hips up, desperately searching for any friction to relieve the painful ache of his cock.

“Fuck I’m so hard. Fuck you are so hot. Fuck.” He grits out as he slowly and carefully pulls his boxers back up, the feeling of the fabric against his cock makes him hiss and you giggle as you watch him grit his teeth.

“Wet dreams don’t count right?” He asks in a panic as his eyes widen.

“This two-week thing is really getting to you huh?” You tease as Yoongi nods and runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“I just watched the hottest girl on the planet make herself cum and I’m hard as a rock and can’t touch myself. This is torture.” He says with a half laugh that has you smiling.

“Is it too much? Do you want to stop” You ask honestly as you take in how truly turned on he looks

“Not at all. I know the end will be worth it. Though I don’t think my cock is ever going to go down. I’m close to humping the bed like a horny teenager right now” He says shyly as you giggle.

“I think that’s also against the rules.” You tease as he smiles at you.

“I know. I didn’t expect you to play dirty though. Watching you cum. Fuck nothing in the world is as hot as that.”

You feel yourself start to blush.

“You not making it easier on yourself you know.” You joke as Yoongi grimaces.

“I know. I should probably try to get some sleep though. We have an early day tomorrow. Namjoon is dragging me and Jin to some art thing.” He says as you feel yourself grow sleepy in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Sounds fun.” You say tucking a pillow comfortably behind your head and curling into a ball on your side.

“Yeah I’m hard as fuck and I get to go to a boring art thing tomorrow. Living my best life.” Yoongi pouts and you giggle softly.

“Love you Yoongs.” You sigh as you feel your eyes flutter closed.

“Love you too babe.” He says softly back as you fall asleep.

The second week was torture for Yoongi. Though you didn’t pull any more dirty tricks it seemed his body realized something was wrong with his refusal to jerk off and it was getting revenge.

Yoongi started to wake up with a hard-on almost every single morning and not just a case of normal morning wood, he would be leaking and twitching and so achingly hard that it made him want to hit someone or something.

Cold showers had become his best friend and his balls constantly ached even when he wasn’t hard.

Yoongi couldn’t wait to get home to you in more ways than one and on the final day, he was so jittery even the boys started to take notice.

The universe also decided to torture Yoongi because while he was supposed to get home at a decent hour the plane got delayed and he ended up flying it at two am

By the time he got home, it was well past three in the morning and Yoongi burst through the door and threw his bags on the ground. He would get them later, or never, it didn’t matter as long as he found you

He made his way to the bedroom quickly and when he entered he saw you snuggled on your side clutching his sweater. You looked so small under the big puffy duvet that Yoongi let out a small sigh.

You had books scattered around you and the TV was left on. His smile widened when he realized you tried your best to wait up for him.

He moved around the room slowly and quietly, turning off the TV, putting the bookmark you had left on the bed in the book and he slowly stripped down and slipped into bed to hold you in his arms.

He was hard. Of course, he was. But that could wait because you immediately rolled over and melted into his warm embrace, snuggling your head into his strong chest and smiling against his skin.

“Home?” You asked voice heavy with sleep.

“I’m home. Get some rest beautiful.” He mumbled as he kissed the crown of your head.

Yoongi woke up with a start as the sensation of a warm mouth around his cock made him twitch and jerk awake.

Was it another dream?

God if he came without your permission he would be in so much trouble.

Yoongi forced his eyes open and the wet heat enveloped his cock again sending delicious pleasure down his spine.

This was real

This was so real

And this was you

He lifted the blankets to see you had woken up before him and crawled between his legs and was currently sucking his cock while staring up at him with your innocent doe eyes

Shit.

His hands immediately gripped the blankets for dear life, his knuckles turning white as he fought back every instinct to thrust up into your mouth. It felt so good and he was so sensitive that he was moaning your name within seconds, trying to keep his hips glued to the bed.

You popped off his cock with a wet noise and Yoongi’s eyes shot open as you smiled up at him.

“Morning,” you called in a sing-song voice as Yoongi panted above you.

“M-More Pl-please,” Yoongi begged in a broken whine as you chuckled and sat up between his legs, pushing the blanket off of you and exposing his lower half to the cold air.

His cock was rock hard and wet with your spit and twitched at the loss of contact. Yoongi felt so much blood rushing south that his head felt dizzy and when you came up to straddle him Yoongi let out a frustrated whine as you sat too far back to give his cock any kind of friction.

“Now is that any way to greet your girlfriend after not seeing her for two weeks?” You stated crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down.

He could see that the cold of the room was affecting your body as your nipples hardened under your shirt and his cock throbbed painfully.

“Sorry, I just. Fuck I haven’t come in two weeks and you gave me a blowjob. I’m- all fucked.” He says breathlessly as you lean forward and catch his lips in a searing kiss.

Yoongi grabs your hips to hold you steady as he presses his lips into yours. Your lips part for his easily and when you grind down on his upper thighs Yoongi lets out a groan against your mouth.

You feel the wetness pool at your center as you let him take charge of the kiss. His hands tangle in your bedhead and he easily flips you over so you are on your back and he hovers over you. He growls against your mouth and nips and sucks at your lips as you gasp.

One hand comes to rest in your hair while the other plays with your nipples through your sleep shirt.

He slowly ruts his cock into your thigh and you can feel just how leaky he is as he smears his precum around your heated skin.

You pull away and gasp for air as Yoongi stares at you with darkened eyes and a look of pure lust on his face.

“While that makeout was hot as fuck I think you are forgetting who is in charge here Yoongs.” You tease as he shuts his eyes in frustration.

“I thought we were done with this. I didn’t cum for two weeks. You win. Now I get to cum right?” He asks voice low and gravely as you laugh and lightly push him off of you.

You get yourself situated between his legs and Yoongi’s eyes widen when you finally push his boxers down and fully expose his cock to the cold air.

“Not so fast Yoongi. I have to check and make sure you weren’t naughty.” You taunt as you run a finger down his cock and he shivers and grips the blankets for support.

You take your time with his cock. Picking it up and inspecting it, running your soft fingers all over the head and the shaft making it throb and twitch in your hand. When you give him a harsh tug Yoongi feels like the air is punched from his lungs as his cock throbs and leaks precum all over your fist.

“You can-can’t tease me. I’m so sensitive I might cum without meaning to. Please.” He begs as you slowly lean down to suck on his cockhead and Yoongi feels electricity running through his veins. He is so horny so desperate, that he can feel his cock throbbing with each touch, he can feel the precum ooze out of the slit and cover his heated shaft.

Your hand trails down the underside of his cock and he whines when you make it to his balls. They are heavy and hot in your hand as you roll them around and Yoongi lets out a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whine.

“Fuck you-you can’t… so sensitive.” He cries out as he arches off the bed at the sensation, the veins in his arms popping out as he grips the sheets for dear life.

This man is totally at your mercy and you love it

“So full Yoongs.” You taunted as you rolled them and played with them some more. Watching as his cock twitched pathetically against his shirt.

“We have to drain them, baby. You're so full you might burst.” You tease as you move away from his cock and sit beside him on the bed.

“Pl-please do something. I’ve been so good. Didn’t touch myself once. Please.” He begs jutting out his lower lip in a pout and you chuckle.

“How about I make you a deal? You stretch me out with your fingers so I can take your massive cock. If you can be a good boy and hold off a little longer I’ll let you cum inside me, with a condom of course. If you can’t control yourself you get to cum on your fist. Deal?” You ask

Without waiting Yoongi is already between your legs and you giggle when he spreads them apart and sticks his whole face into your pussy.

You cry out and grab for his hair as he licks up everything your body is willing to give him. His tongue is rough and hot against your core and when he flicks it over your clit you whine out above him.

He uses one hand to hold your hips down and the other hand comes to join his mouth as he slips a finger inside easily. You moan and thrash on the bed as he works you open. You can subtly feel his hips fucking his hot cock into the mattress and you grin when he lets out a wild moan against your core.

“There you are stretched please sit on my cock.” He begs quickly as he pulls away and sits up next to you on the bed.

His chest is heaving and his cheeks are flushed and wet with your arousal and you stare at him in shock.

“Did I say you were done?” You ask darkly as Yoongi swallows hard.

“I’m gonna cum. Seriously I can’t. Too sensitive it hurts too much.” He whined as you stared him down with a cold glance.

“The challenge was to control yourself Yoongi. Not rush your way into things so you don’t cum.” You say darkly as you push him down on the mattress and fully take control.

You don’t even bother with his cock. Instead, you climb up his body and position each knee so you are straddling his face.

“You rap and sing about how good you are with your tongue so fucking prove it. Make me cum and if I’m feeling generous I’ll let you cum.” You grit out.

You don’t bother letting him answer instead you sink down on his mouth and sigh when he starts to lap at your juices.

His tongue prods your entrance and you whine and grab for his hair when he sticks in inside. Thrusting in and out and flicking over your clit in a way that has you moaning out his name in broken whimpers.

You feel the bed shift and you look back in time to see one of his hands is sneakily wrapped around his cock, not jerking it, just holding the base in a vice-like grip and you realize Yoongi is very very desperate to cum, and trying his best not to.

“I’ll let you hold your cock like a pathetic loser who can’t hold his cum properly. If I see that hand move I’ll chain you to the bedpost and get a pretty cock ring to put around you. Or maybe a chastity cage that way we can make sure you aren’t cumming without permission. Would you like that Yoongs? Like to be my caged-up little slut?”

The whine he lets out is animalistic and you thrash against him when he brings his free hand up to play with your clit. You can tell he is doubling down to get you to cum and you watch as he leaks more precum on his fingers and that sets you off.

You have no time to warn him as you cum all over his face and tongue. The coil of pleasure snaps and you ride out your high chanting his name and holding onto the headboard for dear life.

When you finally come down and roll off of him both of you are breathing heavily and you crack your eyes open to see the very firm grip he has on the base of his cock.

“P-Please Y/N It hurts so bad. My balls are so heavy. Please let me cum. I’ve been your good boy. I’ve been so good.” Yoongi cries as tears of desperation leak from his eyes.

You slowly sit up on your knees and wipe his tears away. His cheeks are red and his eyes are swimming with more tears and all you want to do is make him feel better.

“Just let me get the condom sweetness. You have been such a good boy for me. Just last a little longer okay?” You coo as you reach into the bedside drawer to grab the condom.

Yoongi sighs in relief as you rip the packet and roll the condom onto his cock. The sensation has his cock twitching frantically and you bite back a smile.

“How do you want this?” You ask softly as you reach up to wipe more tears from his face.

“Don’t care. Just wanna be inside of you.” He mutters as tears still slip down his face and his body is thrumming in anticipation.

You climb on top of him deciding that riding him will be your best bet and when his cockhead runs through your folds he tenses up and grits his teeth so hard you could see the muscles in his jaw working.

“Deep breaths Yoongs.” You reminded him as he cracked his eyes open.

“I’m not going to last long. I’m so close to the edge that it’s insane. If you want to feel me inside of you I’m going to need to you sink down on my cock before I cum.” He warns as you finally do as he says and you take a deep breath and sink down.

Yoongi arches violently off the bed nearly knocking you off it as you put your hands on his chest and try to steady yourself.

You can feel his cock twitching inside of you and you open your mouth to taunt him but his hands are on your hips and he gives you no time to adjust as he fucks up wildly into you.

“Yoongi! Slow. Hurts!” You cry out as he thrusts and hits your G-spot effortlessly.

“I can’t babe. I have to move because I have to cum. There is so much heat and pressure down there. And you feel so tight and hot against me. Fuck you feel so good." I’m not going to last. Honest.” He says in a broken whine as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts.

The burn of his cock stretching you is still there but it is quickly replaced by burning pleasure.

Yoongi is fucking into you wildly, his hair is a mess on the pillow and the grunts and moans that leave his mouth are pornographic.

“Want you to rub your clit. Want you to cum with me, baby. I can’t hold back.” He warns as your hand quickly finds your clit and you rub it, arching your back to get him to hit deeper inside of you.

Chaos ensues.

You moan his name as your second orgasm catches both of you by surprise. You feel your walls flutter around his aching length and you cream his cock, wailing his name as it leaks out of you and down his shaft covering his balls.

Yoongi tips off the edge soon after.

His hands are harsh on your hips and he pounds up into you so forcefully that your teeth chatter in your mouth. You feel him twitch and he cries out your name in ecstasy as he cums hard into the condom

And cums

There is so much and he is still thrusting through it all as he empties himself inside of you.

You slump down on his chest as everything feels warm and fuzzy. Yoongi is breathing raggedly in your ear as his cock twitches inside of you and leaks out the last of his cum.

You are so spent your bones feel like jelly.

You lean your head up to see Yoongi crying and you wipe his tears away.

“It just felt so good. Fuck there was so much pressure and now it’s gone and I’m just so happy. Fuck two weeks without cuming is awful.” He comments as you finally slip off his cock and he hisses.

You walk to the washroom to get cleaned up and bring out a towel for him

His dark hair is plastered to his face and a sheen of sweat is covering his body.

You pull the condom off and snicker when you see truly how much cum is inside of it. He clearly was very pent-up and you giggle when you throw it out. You clean off the shaft and his balls and snuggle into bed with him, throwing the towel in the laundry you know you will have to do tomorrow.

“Fuck that orgasm was wild. I think I passed out at one point.” He admits to you as he wraps his arms around your body and you snuggle into his chest.

“You came a lot. Like a lot. The condom was almost full.” You say to him as he blushes and you press a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t be embarrassed it’s sexy.” You say as you fall into a lapse of silence.

“That was torture but also all sorts of hot. It has been a long time since I have cum like that.” He says softly petting your hair and pressing kisses to your temples.

“Want to do it again?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“As long as you don’t make me wait two weeks. My balls were aching the whole second week. Fucking torture.” He grits out as you giggle.

“Worth it?” You ask staring into his softened eyes.

“Worth it.” He admits with a smile.

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