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xoxo-teddybear · 4 years ago

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What Have I Done? - Bakugou Katsuki- pt.2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, fluff, insane behavior, nsfw, noncon! Dubcon!, murder, stalking, abusive behavior, yandere!Bakugou, cursing, blood, lowkey kinda slow burn (meaning the beginning is a little boring BUT IT GETS GOOD I SWEAR😭)

Ep. Warnings: Angst, hitting, cursing, stalking, kidnapping, murder

Summary: It’s been awhile since you’ve left him. Two months actually but it was two months too long. Katsuki was slowly going insane and I guess you could say he officially has because he’s officially snapped. You become his main target, his number one priority, his entire being even though you’re trying to leave him. But Katsuki won’t let you. You’re his..and in the words of Bakugou Katsuki..you always will be.

A/N: ....I made it a yandere story y’all. OH SHI-

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Twitch, twitch, twitch. That’s all Katsuki’s body been doing. Either his eyes or his fingers, his body is uncomfortably moving. Shit doesn’t feel right for him. And he knows exactly why. You left him.

The first week was horrible. All Katsuki did was cry. He even kept his destroyed home in shambles because he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything. If it wasn’t for Kirishima, Katsuki would have starved himself to death. The second week was just as bad. Nothing but a crying baby being taken care of by his best friend.

The third week is when Katsuki become a drunkard. He made Kirishima and the boys of the Bakusquad constantly take him out whenever. As long as the place served alcohol, he would go. He would go and drink himself to sleep. While he was intoxicated he would cry about how he misses you and how he was a terrible husband. He always said you deserved better but he was too in love with you to let you go. The 4th week was pretty much the same.

After a whole month without you, Katsuki threw himself into depression. For the entirety of the second month, he locked himself within the walls of his home. Thankfully, it was now considered a home environment once again after his dear friends cleaned the place up for him. Katsuki stayed inside all day, drank his soul away every night, and sobbed constantly. Constantly regretting how he neglected you, how he mistreated you, and how he hurt you. He doesn’t even know how he even brought himself to do that. Even though he’s been alone for almost 2 months, he still had hope that you would come back. That things would go back to normal and he would be a better husband to you, just like he promised.

Katsuki felt himself going mad and slipping away, but what pulled the trigger was what Kirishima brought to him on the 6th week.

—

Flashback

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

Katsuki looked down at the papers in his hands. Kirishima had walked in with a nervous and sad look on his face when he gave Katsuki the papers you had the red head deliver. “Sorry man...”

Katsuki shook as he stared at the divorce papers with wide eyes. He saw you already signed it and all the paper needed was his signature. His face grew dark as something in his mind snapped. Katsuki turned to his friend and instructed him to get out of his home.

“What? Man are you alright?” Kirishima said. He walked to his best friend and when he reached a hand out for him, Katsuki pulled on his arm and pushed him out the door. He slammed it shut and locked it as he looked at the papers.

A scary smile grew on the man’s face. His eyes grew crazy as he laughed maniacally. Hysterically. As if what he held was the most hilarious thing in the world. His palms began to spark as he used his quirk to destroyed the papers. The quick blast made his hair floof around a bit and when it was over, a pile of ashes lay at his feet.

“She-....she thinks she can leave me?” Bakugou began to walk to the framed picture on the coffee table. He picked up the picture of you both on your last anniversary and ran his finger over the image of you. “Poor Princess....you can’t leave me. You need me. Just as much as I need you. I mean..hehe...look at what I mess I’ve been. I can only assume you must be worse. But it’s okay, love...I’ll find you soon enough..and I’ll help you feel better,” he walked to his bedroom and layed down on the soft mattress as he held the frame close to his chest as he stared sinisterly at the ceiling, “and we’ll never be apart again.”

—

The 7th week was when it began. Katsuki took some time off of work. He was gonna be too busy for hero work. He had something much more important to do. He had to bring you home.

Katsuki spent the 7th week looking for information on you. He was up 24/7 reading all he can, talking to as many people as he can, and doing all the digging he could until he found you. Unfortunately for him but luckily for you, he found nothing. It pissed him off. How could you have completely erased your existence? Did you just go into hiding or was he not searching hard enough.

This time, the luck switched. Katsuki was just walking to the store when he looked to the far side and saw you in a cab. He had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t mistaken but after a good glance and taking a picture for confirmation, he knew it was you. His body almost betrayed him as he almost went in to run after you but luckily his brain stopped him. He had to think. Katsuki hid in an alleyway nearby as he watched you from the side. When the driver continued down the road, that’s when he began to follow you. He used his hero training and quirk to keep up with the car. He followed you for miles until the cab finally stopped at some hotel. He watched you walk in and decided this was far enough.

He knew where you were now. He could wait a little longer before snatching you up. If he did it now in broad daylight, chaos would break out. He had to wait for the perfect moment to get you back. He was okay with waiting. He knew where you’ve been staying, how to get there, and knew what time you got back from wherever that cab picked you up. And then it hit him. The cab.

Katsuki went back to look at the picture he took of you in the cab and checked the license plate. With this information, he went home to find where the vehicle was.

Katsuki busted the door open to his home and ran straight to his in-home office. He went to log onto his work laptop that he used for hero work. The laptop contained the tools and websites that would allow him to find the cab. He finally reached the site he was looking for and went back to the picture. There, he typed in the license plate number.

“よ 57-342” he whispered aloud. Finally, he located the vehicle and went to find it. Katsuki followed the location until he found the house where the driver stayed. He waited in hiding, hoping someone would come out and hoped that the someone would be the driver. He waited and waited until finally, after almost 2 hours of waiting, a man came out. Katsuki quickly pulled up the picture and made sure it was the same person who was driving you, and to his luck, it was.

He quickly ran to the driver before he could get into the cab and pulled him into a dark corner. He slammed the man up against the wall and pulled up a picture of you. “Listen! You dropped this girl off at a hotel, I need to know where you picked her up! Tell me! Now!”

“W-whoa!” The driver exclaimed as he took notice of Katsuki’s identity. “Y-you’re Dynamight!”

Katsuki sucked his teeth at the fact that this guy knew who he was but then again, he wasn’t surprised. He was the number 2 hero after all. “Yeah! I am! Now tell me where you picked up my wife you dog-faced loser!” He screamed.

“Y-you’re wife??” The man looked at the picture and recognized you and the name you gave him. “Oh! M-Miss Y/N! Yes! Uh-..uh- I- she- I- ..I picked her up from a gym!” The man exclaimed.

“What gym?! Tell me!!!” Bakugou shouted at the man.

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know if I can! She- she said she got divorced so how can I trust you’re her husband?!” The man shouted in fear.

“Are you calling me a liar?! I’m a fucking pro-hero! Why would I pull some bullshit like that! Tell me where my wife was! What?! Gym?!” Bakugou screamed once more. In fear, the man gave Katsuki the information he needed.

“Hosu Gym!” The man shook and Bakugou stared for a minute to scare the poor guy before dropping him to the ground. As he walked away, the man spoke up once more. “D-Dynamight, sir. I-If miss Y/N doesn’t want to see you..and you’re forcing information out of people..I’ll have to tell the authorities..sir.”

“You’re not gonna do a damn thing. You hear me?!” The pro screamed. Bakugou side eyed the man as he watched the driver get up from the ground.

“Sir. From the small conversation we had in the car, Miss Y/N said she was divorced-“

“We aren’t divorced!!” Bakugou said as he made a random explosion to intimidate the man. “We are still together, and she is still my wife, and none of this is any of your business!” Bakugou began to walk away but heard the driver grumble something under his breath that triggered something in his brain.

“I can see why she left a crazed man like you...” the driver mumbled. Katsuki quickly snapped his body to face the man and jumped on him. His burning hand found it’s way around the man’s neck and began to squeeze.

“The hell did you say?! You’re gonna wish you never said that you fucking fool, cuz now those are gonna be your last words!” Bakugou said before he activated an explosion and killed the man. Katsuki took deep breaths before realizing what he did and for some reason, he felt no remorse. And he knows why.

“That idiot should’ve known better than to talk about me and Y/N like that...s’his own fault he died.” Bakugou said before walking away from the gruesome scene. He acted like nothing happened as he made his way to Hosu Gym. He just needed to know what time your got there and when. Then, he could finally go home before continuing his plan for the next day.

—

The blonde decided to wait for some time before he went into the building. It was getting dark and so the gym would be closing soon. He waited and waited until finally, the place was empty. Empty except for the man who worked at the front desk.

Katsuki slipped in right before closing and hid himself in the locker room. He waited 10 minutes before going out and finding the one employee he saw. After exploring the area, Katsuki found the man sitting on a bench. He snuck up behind him, and pounced. He covered the man’s mouth as he tugged him into the back room. Once inside, The blonde threw the man in and locked the door to prevent anyone getting in or out.

“W-What is going on? D-Dynamight, what is happening?” The employee asked in fear. He assumed a threat was going on or some trouble was taking place outside of the gym. He had no idea the trouble was standing right in front of him.

“I need you to tell me when this lady came in.” Bakugou said and pulled up a picture of you. The man looked at the picture and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize-“

“YOU WILL! This woman came in here today and I need to know what time! TELL ME!” Bakugou screamed as he lit sparks in his palm. The man shook in fear at the hero’s booming voice and began to look harder. After a minute, he finally spoke.

“I- I remember. She came in hours ago! Sometime around 12 to 2!” The man said in hopes the yelling would stop. It didn’t.

“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?! There’s a huge space in between! I need to know exactly what time she came in! Don’t you morons have a sign in?!” Bakugou screamed.

“We do! We do sir!” The man nodded his head in fear. Bakugou huffed before walking over to him and dragging him by his collar to seat him on the chair in front of the computer.

“Then get into your data base and FIND MY WIFE!” The blonde screamed. The worker nodded frantically before getting right into it. Bakugou watched his every move and the computer. He kept a sparkling hand right next to the man’s head to keep him intimidated as he worked. Eventually, Bakugou saw your profile picture on the screen when the man scrolled down. “Stop. Her. Check what time she came in.”

The man read the drafts and spoke. “1:30 p.m.”

Bakugou nodded before walking to the door and unlocking it. He turned to the trembling man and gave a quick warning with a sinister smile. “If I ever find out that you told anybody, even your own damn friends or family, about what happened tonight, I won’t hesitate to come back and kill you. Am I clear?”

The man gave a quick and jittery “y-yes sir!” As he watched the pro-hero leave the room. Once Bakugou was gone, the man let out a breath of relief and allowed the few tears he was holding back to fall. Bakugou Katsuki definitely struck fear into those of the lives he met.

With this simple information, Bakugou smirked as he walked out the gym doors. He knows where you live, what gym you go to, what day you go, and what time you arrive. You were always a very punctual person. You had a schedule and you followed it through and through. He completely trusted the fact that when he came back here next week, he would be sure to see you. All he had to do now was wait 7 days.

—

7 days have passed and Katsuki was waiting for your presence in the gym. After finding out you arrived at 1:30, he showed up almost an hour earlier at 12 just in case. He waited and waited for you to show. He was almost out of patience, but after seeing that it was only 1:00, he settled the slightest bit. It wasn’t until he took notice of a familiar figure at the desk.

The man Katsuki had threaten nights ago was shivering and shaking in his boots as he greeted people at the door. He was aware that the pro hero was in the building and after the incident of what went down that night, he was definitely scared for his life. Bakugou began to walk to the man and said man could feel a scary aura coming around. When he turned, he was greeted with the sight of a smirking Katsuki.

“Hey friend,” Bakugou said with his hands in his pockets.

The man jumped at the sound of his voice and his scary presence made his eyes teary. “H-Hello Dynamight.”

“Thought I’d just come by to warn you again. When Y/N walks through those doors, don’t you fucking dare try telling her about me or my presence here. Got that.....” Katsuki said looking down at the man’s name tag. “Hiro Itadori? ‘Cuz if you do, your body goes boom. Understand?”

“Y-Yes Sir!” Hiro said as he looked to the ground with wide eyes as he felt himself break into a cold sweat. Bakugou patted the man’s back, causing him to flinch but when the hero walked away right after, Hiro calmed down. Unfortunately, that only lasted for about a second before you walked in.

“Hello Hiro!” You joyfully said. Your voice reached the ears of your ex-husband. Or more so, your “supposed to be” ex-husband. His ears perked up and he smirked as he hid behind a corner wall, taking the view of you in.

“Y/N.” He whispered to himself. He smiled and a blush bloomed on his porcelain skin as he admired you from afar. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. If anything, your looks seemed to have only gotten better. He watched as the man nervously greeted you and allowed you to go through with your workout. Katsuki smirked as he knew the man gave no hint at him being there, and so he would be able to watch you in peace.

Katsuki wasn’t there to keep tabs on your workout and what exercises you did. He was there just to watch you. Of course, while doing so, he admired you, but he was there to gain selfish intel. He watched you from start to end. Once you finished he followed you to your next location. It was still early and so it was safe to assume you weren’t heading to bed yet. He followed you back to your hotel and waited in another area until you walked out again. Sure enough, you did.

For the rest of the day, Bakugou followed and stalked your every move. He watched where you work, where you spent your free time, he followed you to the new cafe you seemed to enjoy, and then he followed you back to your hotel. Instead of waiting in another area and watching from afar, Bakugou climbed the side of the building and watched you from your hotel balcony through the glass door. He payed attention to your every move and noted what time you went to bed. Satisfied with the day’s revelations, he went back to his own home.

Knowing this information, Katsuki was able to sleep a little more peacefully. For the next few weeks, Katsuki followed this procedure. He became a full time stalker, even going so far as to call out of work for some time to put his full attention in you. He watched you like a hawk. He took note of everywhere you went, where you ate, who you spoke to, and what you did. All of it became engraved into his brain.

Now, Katsuki stood at your balcony for the umpteenth time as he stared at your sleeping form. It was deep into the night and with the moonlight on his back, he found enough courage and craze to open the door. He walked in quietly and shut the door, blocking the chilly air from seeping in to awaken your unconscious state. He approached your bed and crouched down to meet your face.

“Still as perfect as ever,” he whispered as he removed a few strands of hair out of your face. His touch didn’t seem to startle you and Katsuki took it as your body naturally indulging in his familiar touch. He blushed at the feeling of your oh so soft skin as his fingertips grazed your pillowy cheeks. His hand finally cupped the side of your face as his thumb drew circles along your skin. Your head unconsciously nuzzled into his warmth like it used to and Katsuki couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry Teddy Bear...I’ll bring you home soon.”

With that, Katsuki leaned down and softly placed a kiss on your lips. This was the lightest kiss he ever bestowed upon you. The pressure and weight was similar to a feather and the blonde struggled to restrain himself once he came in contact. He craved more but his mind knew better. Reluctantly, he pulled away and removed his hand from your face. He walked away, back to the balcony to take his leave but not before turning to look back at you. “Real soon.”

—

You woke up to a sense of familiarity in your room. Although you were alone, you could’ve sworn there was this chilling presence. It was faint but it was there. Taking in a breath and looking around at your surroundings, you reluctantly got out of bed and got ready for the day.

You did the usual. Got ready, got dressed, had breakfast, and went about your day. You went to the market to picked up a few things and ended up staying much longer than you liked. You walked in during daylight and came out when the sun was setting. You sighed in disappointment.

“Guess I can skip the gym this one time. I might as well get back home, read a book or two..” you went on talking to yourself about your schedule. You walked with the groceries in hand as you enjoyed the scenery on your way back, however, even with the shining sun creating it’s golden hour with a beautiful purple sky, you couldn’t help but feel wary of the stillness in the wind.

—

‘Where the fuck is she?!’ Bakugou thought to himself. He waited at the gym all damn day. He waited and waited to see your beautiful face but you never showed. If he had known that you would’ve skipped out on the gym today he wouldn’t have came here and wasted his time. Today was supposed to be the day. The day you came home.

Shaking off his negative thoughts, Bakugou continued with his backup plan. Although it would hurt his soul to bring harm to his precious princess, he reminded himself that he was doing this for her. He’s been so broken for the past months, he could only imagine how destroyed you must be. Hurting you was his way of helping you.

And so, Bakugou made his way to your hotel, where he found himself standing infront of your glass door at your balcony. To his dismay, you weren’t there. He released a huff before climbing down and once again, began to wait. He waited and waited in hiding, constantly on the lookout for you. It’s hard to find you in the city when you don’t follow your daily schedule, but knowing where you currently resided to get your rest made his job much easier.

Finally, after some time, he heard the familiar and comforting sound of your humming voice as you sang a little song to yourself. Bakugou took the sight of you in and blushed at your beauty from afar. He allowed himself to soak in the sound of your pretty voice before making his move. “Sorry Princess.”

—

You finally made it to the hotel. After your long stroll, you couldn’t wait to get some rest. Except, the closer you got, the more tense you became. You could feel the suspenseful aura in the air and your pace soon slowed down. Eventually, you came to a stop as your nerves got the best of you.

“Hello?” You said in the wind. You looked around and saw nothing but the pitch black night illuminated by the street lights and stars.

“Is someone there?” You asked again, turning your head another direction. Nothing but leaves in the wind. You released a sigh and continued your walk but became startled due to the sound of squirrels fighting in the trees.

“Ah!” You screamed and dropped your bag. After taking notice of the two animals going at it, you chuckled to yourself and turned to pick up your bag, unfortunately being startled once again at the sight of shoes in front of you. “AH!”

You jumped back in fear and took a fighting stance before you settled and relax at the sight of your supposed ex-husband. “Bakugou..it’s just you.”

“Mm, nope.” Bakugou said as he bent down to pick up your bag and hand it to you. “It’s Katsuki.”

His words sent your eyes rolling as you took your bag back with a hesistant hand. Something seemed..off.

“Not anymore. Thanks for the help. Bye.” You attempted to walk on to your hotel entrance but his arm stopped you.

“What? That’s it? Thanks? Bye?” Bakugou asked while gently pushing your body back in front of him. “We should talk, Y/N.”

“There’s nothing to talk abou-“

“There is.” Bakugou said with a firm voice, grabbing your full attention. Seeing your doe eyes look at him with caution caused him to settle. Bakugou sighed through his nose and allowed his hands to rest on your waist. “I miss you, Y/N. I want you to come back home.”

You shook your head at the idea and scrunched your eyes as you tried to step out of his hold. “Bakugou..”

“Hear me out, okay? It won’t be like last time, Teddy Bear-“

“You don’t know that-“

“I do. Because I’m going to try harder for you and I’m going to hold onto you and I’m not gonna ruin us for a second time. I still love you Y/N. I always have and I always will.” Bakugou sweetly said. You looked at him with the same eyes of caution before you placed your hands over his, giving him a sign of hope.

“I’m sorry, Bakugou,” you said, pulling his hands off of your waist. “I sent divorce papers. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I don’t love you anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Bakugou said with full confidence. Although you pulled his hands away from your waist, you still allowed him to keep a hold on your own hands.

“...I should.” You said looking down. With each word of denial, Bakugou took a step closer, invading your personal space. “You should get going-“

“No, Y/N-“

“Bakugou-“

“Baby. I know you still want me. I know you still love me and I know you’re excited that I’m back. I love you...and you love me. So just admit it.” He said, inches away from your face. You stared in his eyes with a look of longing...and a hint of love. He was right. You did still love him. But after the neglect and harm he’s brought you, you didn’t know if you did want to go back. You didn’t know.

Sensing your hesistation, Bakugou slowly moved in to close the gap between you two. His hands let go off yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His face inched closer to yours and when you didn’t stop him, he continued. Finally, he gently placed his lips upon your own and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel something again. His kisses always brought a comforting feeling of butterflies in your stomach and after a second of feeling his warm lips, you kissed him back. Your hands found way around his neck as you pulled him in deeper and you could feel Bakugou smile into the kiss. It was hot and passionate. You were out in the open but for a moment it felt like no one else in the world existed. You would’ve gotten lost in the kiss had it not been for you remembering the situation you were in with the man.

Reluctantly, you gently pushed Bakugou off of you, but he still managed to press his forehead to your own. “Katsuki...you should go home.”

“Not without you.” He softly said. You shook your head as you completely pushed him off of you and gathered your things.

“Please...just go.” You said and began to walk away but Bakugou held onto your arm to stop you from moving any further.

“I’m not leaving without you, Y/N. Come home.” He stated.

“Bakugou! Just leave!” You shouted as you turned to him. When you faced the blonde man, you were shocked to see a crazed smile decorating his face.

“Too bad. I’m not asking Y/N. I’m telling. You’re coming home with me. Tonight.” He said and you scoffed at him with slight fear.

“You’re crazy!” You said and tried to shake his hold off of you, but of course failed.

“About you? Yes.” He said as he pulled you in closer. You squirmed against his hold until he pressed you in his chest and kept you in his grasp. You continued to fight against him but he grabbed your face with one hand to force you to stop and look at him.

“Let me go!”

“Listen! You either come home with me the easy way..or my way.” He warned. You looked at him with fear laced all around your face as you watched his insane side surface. You began to squirm again and fight once more.

“I’m not going!” You spat. Bakugou just released a simple laugh before caressing the side of your face.

“Yes. You are.” With that, the gentle hand on the side of your face formed into a first as he swung and knocked you out. You dropped unconscious in his hold and Bakugou was quick to carry you princess style and walk away, abandoning your groceries on the sidewalk.

“Shoulda listened. Cant believe you forced me to hurt you like that, baby.” Bakugou spoke to your unconscious state as he walked back home through dead city streets. “Don’t worry though, I’ll take care of you once we make it back. And then, we’ll never be apart again. I promise.”

—

You awoke to chains being locked on your wrist that were tied against a headboard. You layed on a large mattress in a dark room with a dim light. As you looked around, you recognized the familiar place. The place you used to make love for hours with your ex-husband. The place where movie dates and cuddle sessions were a must. The place you locked yourself in before leaving your last relationship. Katsuki’s bedroom.

You tried to jump out of bed but the restraints pulled you back down. You tried to scream and only muffled sounds could be heard. Katsuki taped your mouth shut. You tried using your quirk but it didn’t work. You looked to your restraints and saw the cuffs he used to hold you were quirk restraining cuffs. With nothing else to do, you tossed and turned in the bed as you allowed the muffled sounds to be as loud as they could. Eventually, the ruckus you were making brought the attention of your captor. Katsuki Bakugou.

Hearing all the noise, Bakugou busted opened the door to be met with your frustrated and teary eyes. You glared at him as he smirked at your locked up state. He took the opportunity to walk up to you and caress your face.

“I’m so sorry I had to hit you baby,” he said leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “But you left me with no choice. All you had to do was come home on your own free will and I wouldn’t have had to do all that.”

You began to tremble with anger and fear as you stared up at the man. Your teary eyes challenged his insane rubies as he sat on the side of the bed.

“How does it feel to be back? Hm?” He asked, ripping off the tape. You groaned at the pain and grew sick as you saw Bakugou pervertedly lick his lips at the sound. You leaned back and huffed with heavy breath before answering him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Let me go!” You screamed. He only looked at you in confusion as another sinister smile took place on his lips.

“Why would I do that, Teddy Bear?” He asked, allowing his thumb to create sweet and soft circles on your cheek.

“I don’t want you anymore Katsuki! I don’t want to be with you!” Bakugou merely raised a brow at your words and continued to listen. “You burned me-“

*SMACK*

You looked at the man in front of you with fear and shock written on your face. Your cheek stung as your face now turned to the side but Bakugou quickly changed that by taking you by your chin to make you face him and wrapped a hand around your neck, chocking you. You gasped for air as Bakugou’s smirk became replaced with a frown and his brows became pointed.

“How dare you?! You’re asking what’s wrong with me but what the hell is wrong with you?! You left me, for months, Y/N. I was heartbroken. I was basically dead with you gone. I did you a fucking favor bringing you back. If I was so fucked, I can only imagine how horrible you must’ve been feeling. You’re lucky I came and save you. Saved us. And now, we can be happy again.” He explained.

“K-...Katsuki-..p-please!” You forced out, trying to beg for air.

“SHUT UP! I saved you, Y/N. So don’t even try to mention the little accident that happened so long ago, baby. Now you can forgive me. And don’t worry..I’m ready to listen to all the apologies you surely have for me...even if I have to choke them out of you.” He seethed with his hand tightening. Your eyes began to pop as the blood flow began to fill your face. Your eyes turned red as you struggled for air.

“I-...I-I’m..K-Katsuki! ...I’m sorry!” You shouted as best as you could. Luckily for you, the second you did, Bakugou’s hand lost its grip and simply rested on your neck. You choked and coughed as you relished in the sweet taste of oxygen. He smiled and leaned down to give your lips a sweet peck to shut you up and tapped your cheek before he walked to the door. Before leaving, he turned around to look at you and give you your official welcome back.

“I’m glad you’re home, baby. Can’t believe you really tried leaving. You’re mine, Y/N. And you always will be....don’t forget it.”

He slammed the door shut, walking away from the room with a smile. And you?

You cried.

A/N: Back by popular demand, we have part 2 to “What Have I Done.” How was it? In my opinion the beginning SUCKED! But I promise it’ll get better! The story will focus on Y/N and Bakugou’s new lives now so stay tuned and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Tag list: @captainchrisstan @jazzylove @bakugous-trauma @konohahoee @whatdidshesayyy @chibiiichann @lover-of-helios @unicornlover25 @tamakisropebunny @iliketobullydeku @peacchfuz @fairybnha3 @ebiharachan @levimeko @5sos-wdw @naluciosa @anime-weeb-bnha @bakucumsackslut @asteria-obey-me

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Text

Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @lsangyeons

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job.

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves.

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot.

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...”

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.”

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage.

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you.

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list.

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy.

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes.

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you.

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics.

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead.

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so.

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else.

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be.

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life.

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here.

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face.

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?”

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night.

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin.

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal.

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch.

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included.

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager.

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager.

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back.

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch.

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room.

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut.

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up.

Love,

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event.

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae.

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection.

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket.

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day.

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby.

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door.

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door.

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant.

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything.

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle.

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’.

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere.

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold.

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing.

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first.

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut.

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love, Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw.

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway.

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders.

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head.

Time stops.

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling.

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in.

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut.

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises.

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV.

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours.

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you.

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes.

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed.

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair.

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck.

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you.

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground.

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped.

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him.

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg.

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip.

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you.

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat.

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair.

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much.

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close.

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin.

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel.

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you.

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do.

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders.

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels.

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips.

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace.

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act.

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again.

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him.

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving.

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.”

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head.

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now.

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest.

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down.

The guilt washes through you again.

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence.

You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away.

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative.

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver.

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.”

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers.

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow.

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it.

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing:

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little.

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic

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violettelueur · 4 years ago

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE THREE || GIRL OF STEEL

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 10 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 5.7k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : for myself

↳ next episode : curse womb must die

↳ barista’s notes : i am back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ this will be the last update for now since i want to get some of your requests done due to my pushing them back to get the first three episodes done! i hope you enjoy this cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) and come again ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

3. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part four soon because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ

4. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

Taken back to his discovery, you turned back to look at Gojo will a deadpan expression leading him to then carefully suggest, “Since you are part of the lost L/N clan, I won’t tell the higher-ups about your existence but rather have you twist your name slightly when you enrol, how does that sound?”

Glancing at the teacher with suspicion, you tried to hide the gut-wrenching feeling that there was not a possible chance of you now escaping from this. You had been caught and found and there was no way to lie yourself out of this situation you were in, not when Gojo had discovered who you really were while Fushiguro seemed to look clueless on what was going on between his teacher and the female sorcerer in front of him.

Letting out a sigh of frustration once again, you looked up at the sky, letting the same moonlight bathe your face as it did for Sukuna a few minutes ago.

“What a drag”

ꕥ

‘What the hell did I get myself into you?’

While sipping on the straw of your orange juice carton, you were currently leaning against a railing in the city of Toyko within the Harajuku district in front of a train station, where you were supposed to meet with the new student that had enrolled in the school.

Between you were both Itadori, who was eating an ice lolly while sitting on the same railing, and Fushiguro, who was just standing while facing towards you both, as they were waiting for the same person as well as a special someone who was supposed to be here with the three of you.

“How are there only three first-years? Isn’t that too few?” Itadori curiously asked as he turned to Fushiguro for the answer to his understandable questions, since he was in shock that a year group could be so small for a large school like Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

“Well, have you ever met anyone who can see curses before?” Fushiguro questioned, as he was trying to make his new classmate get the answer he was looking for.

“Hm, expect for L/N, who hid it from everyone, nope,” Itadori than answered, leading Fushiguro look at you for a second, only to discover you still continuing to drink the orange juice that you had bought earlier while looking at the entrance of the station in a daze, it was like you were ignoring the two of them.

“That just proves how small a minority jujutsu sorcerers are,” Fushiguro explained before reminding Itadori about a really important piece of information that the vessel seemed to have forgotten. “Remember, that L/N is now Gojo Y/N, since Gojo-sensei changed her name for privacy reasons,” Fushiguro stated, leading to your classmate to look at you with a more surprised look.

“Why are you now referred to as Gojo rather than your last name?” Itadori queried as he leaned forward to get a better look at you. This reminder of your changed name led to your eyes to squint in annoyance as you steadily but furiously began to scrunch your carton since your situation, in your opinion, had gone from bad to worse.

“Ah….I’m not really sure, to be honest,” you answered with a lie, as you moved the plastic straw away from your lips as you then stirred the box around like it was a glass of wine.

‘Ugh….Gojo...’

ꕥ

“Stareeeeeeeeeeee”

Looking down at the document sheet that was handed to you, you were taken by sudden surprise at the name section that was on the top left of the sheet, as there was a subtle change made from what you could recall from your birth name.

“Gojo Y/N…” you muttered under your breath leading to your teacher to clap his hands in delight before presenting you with his classic cheeky smile.

“Ah~ you are now my adoptive daughter~” Gojo cheerfully confessed, leading you to pause for a second before looking back up at the special-grade sorcerer with widened eyes - like a deer caught in headlights - once you processed the information in your head.

“How is everyone going to believe that is true? There is no way, people will believe that if they see the documents were signed yesterday or today,” you argued, trying to convince him that the excuse he gave to hide your identity was ridiculous. However, before you could even get a second word in, you unexpectedly felt a finger being pressed lightly onto your lips as if to tell you to hush yourself.

“Don’t worry, I manipulated the documents to say that I had adopted you five years ago, so your secret is safe with me and the principle, none of the higher-ups knows and none of the other students as well except for Yuji and Megumi,” Gojo informed you with a smirk, as if telling you that you had been proven wrong. Sighing in frustration, you finally gave up with the argument and handed the sheet back to Gojo as you began to fully take in where you were right now.

It was such a quick process. The day your schoolmate Itadori Yuji became the vessel of the King of Curses, was the same day that both Fushiguro and Gojo took you to Jujutsu Tech to attend and become a student at their school. In your mind, you were still supposed to be back home in Sendai. Back home in the empty house that used to be shared with your mother. Back home where you were away from the city life and peacefully in the countryside away from the hustling capital while blending into the crowd as if you were just a normal student with a normal life.

If you hadn’t come back to school that night.

If you hadn’t noticed the curse back at the rugby field.

If you hadn’t even looked out that window, to begin with.

All this wouldn’t have happened.

None of it.

You still would have been hidden like you were supposed to be.

“Oh! L/N, you’re staying here as well?”

Snapping out of your daze, you quickly turned back around to find the source of the voice that called out for you, only to discover both Itadori and Fushiguro walking towards you leading you to then slowly close your dorm door before greeting them with a small wave.

“Ah, ah, it’s now Gojo Y/N boys, make sure to not say her last time,” Gojo quickly stated, causing both of the boys to look at their teacher with such bewilderment before turning their head towards you as if you were going to explain to them what was the reasoning behind this sudden change.

To be honest, there was no point in your opinion. Itadori had no idea or clue on who the three families were in the jujutsu world and it was such effort to explain to him the reasons why these families were so famous and as for Fushiguro, he could probably discover that on his own so, once again, there was no point on giving them an answer.

“Well, it’s all good!” Gojo suddenly stated, as he once again clapped his hands together with a gleeful expression displayed on his face leading you to look to the side with an annoyed glance, as you didn’t need nor want the happy-go-lucky enthusiasm after discovering you were now ‘part’ of the Gojo clan as someone’s adoptive daughter. “Most importantly, we’re heading out tomorrow, we’re gonna go pick up the fourth first-year!” Gojo declared to the three of you causing a total of three pairs of eyes to look at him as you, Itadori and Fushiguro began to process the information.

‘Another one huh?’

ꕥ

“By the way, didn’t you say I was the third and L/N was the fourth?” Itadori questioned, as he suddenly remembered that you and him unexpectedly enrolled in the sorcerer school leading him to wonder how long has it been since the ‘second’ student had been enrolled and why they were only just arriving now.

“Their entry was decided a while ago, you know what our school’s like, everyone has unique circumstances and remember it’s Gojo, not L/N,” Fushiguro answered while trying to remind Itadori of your new name, leading him to place his hand on the back of his neck before informing you and Fushiguro that he was just used to calling you by your original last name.

“It’s fine, just call me Gojo when we are around other people excluding Gojo-sensei, okay?” you reassured Itadori, causing the cheerful boy to nod at you, informing you that he understood your statement.

“Sorry for the wait!” Gojo shouted at you three as he was walking towards you before noticing a change of look between his two new students. “Your uniforms made it in time, I see,” Gojo uttered as he peered at both you and Itadori before giving an approving nod as if he was a fashion designer looking at his models before hitting the runway.

From what Gojo has stated, Itadori was wearing the classic blue uniform with the noticeable two pins sewed onto the left side to indicate that he was a sorcerer at jujutsu tech with a red hoodie that added a hint of colour compared to his counterpart Fushiguro, who had a high neck. On the other hand, you were sporting a short jacket with a white dress shirt underneath while wearing a long skirt that had a slit on the side to give your legs some room, revealing the thigh-high black socks you were wearing to cover some of the skin from the gentle winds that were coming while your katana was resting in a bag as you were carrying it on your left shoulder to conceal your weapon from the other citizens around.

“Yeah, it’s a perfect fit,” Itadori said while showing his teacher the thumbs up before suddenly commenting, “though it’s slightly different from Fushiguro’s, it has a hood for one,” as he started to point the differences between his uniform to his new classmate’s to which caused you and the mentioned sorcerer to look at him while he tugged on his red hoodie.

“That’s because the uniforms can be customised upon request,” Gojo mentioned, leading you to discover and finally understand why your uniform looked completely different to the one another student was wearing, all you remembered about her was that she had greenish hair while wearing a pair of glasses.

‘So, he was the one that put the request in huh?’

“But I never put in any requests,” Itadori commented, as he was confused on why there was an alteration to his uniform without his knowledge.

“I was the one who put on the custom order, as well as my daughter new uniform~” Gojo said with a smile as he playfully decided to pull on your cheek leading you to smack his hand away, resulting in him pouting while rubbing the back on his hand like your smack had caused him some pain.

“Whatever, I guess,” Itadori remarked, as he looked down onto his hoodie.

“Be careful, Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that,” Fushiguro warned both you and itadori before looking back to the mentioned sorcerer with a question in mind. “Most importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?” Fushiguro curiously asked since it was a bit strange to him that a student didn’t just arrive at the school like all three of you did.

“Because it’s what she asked for,” Gojo answered before Itadori randomly noticed a popcorn stand before declaring that he wanted some to enjoy leading you to walk behind him to make sure he didn’t get lost within the city that was crowded with the ongoing shopper as well as tourists that decided to take a break away from their work or lives to experience a new setting.

“Oh hello there, are you on the clock right now?” someone randomly asked, causing you to turn back only to discover what seemed to be a businessman with a green suit paired with a unique purple tie decorated with teal polka dots.

“Sort of but not really,” you uninterestingly answered, giving the man a bored expression leading his nervousness to increase further due to the anxiety of talking to a random stranger in the middle of the streets of Tokyo.

“You see, I’m looking for potential models, this is who I am,” the man explained as he processed to pull out his business card to which you didn’t give a day of time to look down at. “Would you be interested?” the businessman processed to question before you lifted an open palm while giving the man a polite smile.

“Sorry, I’m not really interested in modelling at all but thank you for the opportunity,” you politely declined as you noticed the deflated look the worker had given you. However, before the modelling scout could apologise and thank you for your time, a hand violently grabbed his shoulder before he was pulled back to face the opposite way.

“Hey, you, what about me?” a girl asked, causing you to look behind the small businessman’s figure to see a girl around the same age as you point to herself with the thumb. From what you could observe, she had short orange hair that seemed to be dyed due to the slightly darker colour of her eyebrows but it wasn’t obvious while carrying what seemed to be many shopping bags around her arms while her carrier pink backpack on her back. However, the uniform she was wearing was saying something as the buttons gave an indication of what she was.

‘Ah, so she’s the new student’ you thought before processing to continue looking at the scene right in front of you.

“For the modelling gig, duh, I’m asking what you think about me,” she commented leading you to give squint your eyes in confusion, what was the point of being a model when you were already a jujutsu sorcerer at Toyko Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

On the other hand, what you were concerned with was the three males who were standing on the sidelines watching the situation unfold leading you to give them a bored look before walking towards them with your left hand in your skirt pocket since the slit on the other side made it not possible for another pocket to be made.

“We’re about to go talk to her? That is kinda embarrassing,” Itadori commented while lifting up what seemed to be more than popcorn in his hand leading to a confused look to appear on your face, while Fushiguro gave an irritated side glance as he tutted.

“So are you,” Fushiguro mentioned, due to the silly ‘rook’ tourist glasses he was wearing before glancing to the other side where Gojo stood as the teacher called out the female student to come their way, while some female passersby commented on the white-haired sorcerer’s blindfold to which was quite understandable.

ꕥ

Slashing the metal locker door shut, the new student then inserted the needed amount of coins to make sure the door was completely locked before turning to the three males that stood right in front of her.

“Okay, once again,” Gojo mentioned as he raised an arm to indicate to her that she can introduce herself.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” Kugisaki introduced herself before continuing with, “be happy, boys. I’m the one woman in your group,” leading to some confusion to float around within the group.

“Where’s Y/N?” Gojo curiously asked the boys as they continuously turned around the area to find where you were before turning back to look at Kugisaki. Suddenly, behind Kugisaki, the boys had found you heading towards the group while casually sipping on another carton of orange juice that you had bought out of the blue once you saw it while passing by a vending machine when you were walking to the nearest locker station for the student that had arrived.

“Ah, sorry, I got a bit thirsty,” you commented while lifting the carton up before finally standing next to the new student, who you just found out was named Kugisaki Nobara as you were able to still hear what she was saying while you were coming back to them. However, it seemed like you weren’t what she was analysing right now as you noticed her looking right at Itadori and Fushguro with an intense glance.

“I’m Itadori Yuji, I’m from Sendai,” Itadori introduced himself as he used his finger to indicate to himself as well.

“Fushiguro Megumi,” bluntly stated, as he turned to look at Kugisaki.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, Kugisaki proceeded to complain about the circumstances she was in, leading the boys to look at her with a really awkward expression on their faces.

“She took one look and sighed,” Itadori commented, as his face turned into a sulk while Fushiguro wasn’t making eye contact at all.

“I’m Gojo Y/N, I hope we can get along,” you quickly stated, while trying not to cringe at your name, leading Kugisaki to look to her side to find you looking at her before a hint of glee and joy processed to manifest in her eyes.

“Maybe the circumstances aren’t that bad! But why do you have the same name as your teacher when you don’t even look alike?” Kugisaki mentioned while giving you a small smile to which you gave her the same trying to be friendly with the new classmate that you had just met.

“Ah it’s a drag to explain fully, but I’m his adoptive daughter,” you quickly answered as you didn’t want to slip up the lie that was concealing your whole identity which seemed to convince the sorcerer since she gave you another nod, telling you that she understood what you had just mentioned.

“Are we going somewhere from here?” Fushiguto asked his teacher, as he turned to look towards the direction of the tall man leading to a light laugh to emit from his mouth causing you to get suspicious of what Gojo was planning.

“We do have all four of you together and not to mention, three of you are from the countryside,” Gojo suddenly mentioned, leading all his students to look at him, anticipating what he had planned. “So of course we’re going on a tour of Tokyo,” Gojo suddenly announced, leading to excitement between Itadori and Kugisaki to burst out while Gojo joined in, to hype the moment up.

“Tokyo! Tokyo! Tokyo! We love Tokyo!” Itadori and Kugisaki cheered, leading you and Fushiguro to look at the two with such confusion expressed on your faces.

While you looked at the scene with such confusion, Fushiguro was more confused at the fact of why you weren’t enlivened at the fact about this ‘tour’ while the two started arguing about the structure of Tokyo as they were getting some places confused with other places.

“Why ain’t you excited?” Fushiguro commented as you continued to sip on the citrusy drink that you had brought earlier leading to another question on your obsession with orange juice to pop up in his head.

“I’ve already been to Tokyo for some business trips with my mother from time to time and what I mean by that is exorcising curses here with her,” you answered before continuing with “also, I have a suspicion that we ain’t going on a tour, it is Gojo Saturo after all,” before going back to drinking on the carton drink you were craving for.

“I will now announce our destination,” Gojo stated, leading both Itadori and Kugisaki to kneel down in front of your teacher, only for you to give them a strange look before Gojo proudly announced where everyone was heading off to.

“Roppongi!”

“Ro-ppong-gi!” Itadori and Kugisaki said with glee as they turned to each other with the same exciting look.

‘Well, let’s see how this goes’

ꕥ

‘I knew it....’

“There's a curse here,” Fushguro stated as you gave a slight nod while inspecting the large abandoned building that was surrounded by a large ominous dark purple hues indicating that there was just more than one curse in the building or maybe just a single one - you couldn’t sense it due to the amount of cursed energy being released out of the building.

“You liar!” Itadori and Kugisaki screamed in anger while complaining at the fact that they both were deceived on where they were heading off to before Kugisaki shouted something about ‘toying with us country folk’.

“There’s a big cemetery nearby, the double whammy of that and an abandoned building brought out a curse,” Gojo informed everyone like staring up at the building as well.

“So they really do pop up more often around graves?” Itadori questioned after his little tantrum, leading you to realise that he had no knowledge on how curses appeared or anything to do with the jujutsu world to start with.

“The issue isn’t the cemetery itself, it’s the fact that people associate cemeteries with fear,” you explained to the noobie while swirling the now empty carton in hand.

“Oh, it was the same for schools, too, wasn’t it?” Itadori then asked as he turned to look at you for any answers causing Kugisaki to pause her ranting to look at Itadori with a perplexed look on her face.

“Hold up. He didn’t even know that yet?” Kugisaki questioned, leading you to give off an awkward laugh while looking to the side away from the group which only led to more confusion to emit from her.

“To be honest….” Fushiguro started before explaining the situation that had brought Itadori to where he was now causing Kugisaki to give an extremely disgusted look on her face - and to be honest, you couldn’t blame her at all.

“He swallowed a special-grade cursed object!?! Gross! Unbelievable! That’s so unsanitary and disgusting! No way, no way, no way, no way!” Kugisaki yelled out before running away from the three of you as you looked at her with nonchalant faces.

“What?!” Itadori shouted in confusion.

“I agree with her,” Fushiguro mentioned in a blunt tone, leading you to completely ignore your classmates as you continuously looked up at the building in front of you.

“I want to know what all of you are capable of, just think of this as a field test,” Gojo informed everyone with a smile on his face before calling out Itadori and Kugisaki to tell them they were going to exorcise the curse inside the building themselves leaving you confused since you were also a new student here as well.

“Huh? But I thought only curses could exorcise curses, right? I can’t use any jujutsu yet,” Itadori asked before indicating his lack of ability to the teacher.

“You’re basically half a curse already, there cursed energy flowing throughout your body,” Gojo stated as he pointed at the vessel before continuing to explain “though controlling that energy isn’t something you can learn overnight, so use this,” before taking out what seemed to be a cursed weapon in front of you and the rest.

“It’s the cursed tool, Slaughter Demon. It’s a weapon imbued with cursed energy, it’ll work on curses, too,” Gojo explained while Itadori gazed at the weapon in amazement.

“Like Gojo’s sword? And why isn’t she taking part in this test?” Itadori then asked as he pointed at the bag behind your back leading to Kugisaki to look at it in shock since she thought it was just a normal carrier bag that you just had.

“Yeah, kind of like that and to be honest, this test isn’t good enough to test her abilities, she wouldn’t need to take the katana out and probably use it with the wooden hilt on,” Gojo explained as he turned to you with a cheeky smile of his face.

Suddenly, Kugisaki turned her back towards all of you before fastening a brown belt around her waist which had a small pouch to keep whatever she needed in there, leading Itadori to follow behind her.

“Oh, one more thing,” Gojo suddenly shouted, causing Itadori to turn as Gojo then stated, “don’t let Sukuna out, if you use him, you’ll get rid of all the curses nearby in a flash, but you’ll also drag everyone around into it.”

“Got it. I won’t let Sukuna out,” Itadori assumed his teacher before Kugisaki turned back around to complain to her classmate to hurry up while you quickly took a seat on the stone platform that was right behind you before setting your bag down onto the side making it lean against the same stone you took a seat on while Fushiguro and Goj followed behind.

“I think I’ll go, too,” Fushiguro mentioned, causing you to give him a side glance as you wondered if he was worried or just not hopeful that the two will actually exorcise the curse.

“Don’t push yourself, you’re still recovering,” Gojo reminded his student before saying “if I needed to put someone in for backup, it would be Y/N since she seems to be in a better condition than you.”

“But someone needs to keep an eye on Itadori, right?” Fushiguro questioned in a concerned tone.

“True,” Gojo answered in a dazed tone, indicating to you that he wasn’t worried one bit.

From your perspective, you understood why Fushiguro was worried about your new classmate since he didn’t have the ability to take on a curse from his lack of experience but from what you could recall from that night, it seemed like you didn’t have to worry at all.

“That Yuji..he’s missing a few up here,” Gojo randomly stated, as he pointed his head to indicate his brain. “He has no hesitation, when it comes to killing these things, take that the form of living creatures, albeit bizarre-looking ones, to try to kill him,” Gojo explained to his long-term student while you were just resting the back of your head on the wall before your teacher continued with “and it’s not like he’s been familiar with curses for a long time, like you. This is a boy who used to live a normal high school life, you’ve seen plenty of jujutsu sorcerers, even though with talent, give up in frustration because they couldn’t conquer their fear or disgust, haven’t you?” leading to Fushiguro to look down to his hands as he thought about the statement while you looked up to the sky to question your own thoughts.

‘Is that one of the reasons why the L/N clan decided to disappear? Nah, they were able to seal Sukuna, there is no way that could be the reason’

“So today I want to confirm how crazy she is,” Gojo mentioned, somewhat giving you a slight idea on what he was trying to inform you both.

“But Kugisaki has the experience, right? Little late for that now, isn’t it?” Fushguro asked as he was still unsure about what Gojo was trying to tell him.

“Curses are born from human minds, so their strength and numbers grow in proportion to the population, curses in Tokyo are on a different level than those in the countryside,” Gojo said in a low tone to which Fushiguro understood but still had some uncertainty lingering in his head.

“What he is trying to say that ‘level’ doesn’t mean the amount of cursed energy one curse may have but their cunningness, what he is testing is how one reacts to cruel choices that are forcibly handed to them like the weight on a human life in danger balancing upon your shoulder,” you casually explained, leading Fushiguro to look at you while Gojo had a bright smile on his face, glad that you understood what he was talking about.

However, before you continue with your explanation, there was a loud crash being heard from above with pieces of broken glass falling to the ground leading to the three of you down below to look up, only to find the curse causing the purple hue trying to escape.

“I’ll exorcise it,” Fushiguro quickly said, as he clasped his hands together ready to summon a shikigami. However, he felt a tug on his arm leading him to look down to find you tugging onto the sleeve of his uniform.

“Hold on, have some confidence in your peers,” you muttered, before letting go of the fabric as you processed to lean your head back onto the wall while closing your eyes. “I don’t know how long you have been alone but understand you have teammates now, so rely on them as well, okay?” you stated as you slowly opened your eyes to peer up at the curse, only to suddenly see large metal strikes come out of its body before disintegrating into nothing, while the purple aura that was surrounding the abandoned building disappeared with it.

“Nice, she’s crazy, all right,” Gojo mentioned with a gleeful smile on his face, happy with the results that had just come in from this field test.

ꕥ

“I live over there! Thanks again!” the kid mentioned as he pointed towards the direction of his house before running off.

From what you could recall, at the end of the field test, Itadori and Kugisaki came out of the building with a child before explaining that he was in the building during the test and he was caught in the middle of it all.

Observing the boy running to his house, you wanted to make sure he got home safely from a distance to which he did once you saw him enter through the gates to what seemed to be his house before being greeted by an obviously worried mother, who scolded him for wondering about before being pulled into a hug.

‘I wonder what’s it like to have a normal childhood?’ you wondered before small but vivid memories began to appear in the back of your mind.

“I’m jealous,” you whispered, before turning around to find both Fushiguro and Gojo already walking back to Itadori and Kugisaki, who both were sitting on the stone steps impatiently waiting for the three of you to finish the task that needed to be done.

‘In the end, I’m alone with the responsibilities of the L/N clan upon my shoulders but I have you, dear. Even with this world being full of curses and impurities, I feel like I have a normal ordinary life with you by my side. I wish I could have given that to you, I’m sorry….’

“It’s okay,” you whispered again, this time leading Gojo to turn back to you with a confused look on his face which caused Fushiguro to look back as well, finding it strange that you haven’t left your stop since the kid was already back at his home, safe and out of harm’s reach for now.

“Did you say something Y/N?” Gojo asked, only for you to shake your head to deny that you had before making your way back to the group.

“Good Joseph! We made sure the kid got home,” Gojo shouted while giving a small wave towards the two students, who suddenly jumped up on their feet which confused you slightly since they had such a determined look on their faces.

“Now shall we go grab some food?” Gojo kindly questioned leading the same two students to now express two huge grins while shouting out their preferred meal for tonight.

“Beef!”

“Sushi!”

“Leave it all to me!” Gojo excitedly stated with two thumbs up before turning to his two other students, who were waiting on the sidelines. “And you guys?” Gojo asked with the same huge grin that Itadori and Kugisaki were expressing.

“I don’t really mind,” you answered in a casual tone before turning to look at FUshiguro, who was suddenly randomly scrolling through his phone with a bored but somewhat irritated expression on his face, causing you to wonder what he was reading or finding that made him have a scowl on his face.

Taking you by the arm, Gojo started walking off with you, Itadori and Kugisaki leaving Fushiguro behind, who had just realised that you all were walking away once he heard his teacher say ‘okay, let’s go’.

“Oh, I forgot about my biggest haul of the day. Hey, you, go fetch my things,” Kugisaki said in a demanding tone, as she decided to be the leader of the group since she was walking in front of everyone.

“Huh? Why should I do it? I thought we were even,” Itadori complained, as he didn’t want to get the items that were left in the coin locker back at Harajuku.

“We won thanks to my cursed energy. Got a problem with that?” Kugisaki countered back, as she confidently continued walking in front of all of you like she would know where the restaurant Gojo was taking you all was.

“What about my raw strength?” Itadori argued, leading you to wonder what he did during the time he was the at the abandoned building with Kugisaki to mention about his immense but strange strength.

“Your monstrous power from eating weird shit?” Kugisaki shouted as she was implicating the cursed finger that Itadori swallowed as a reason for Itadori’s strength.

“It’s not just that! Right, Fushiguro, Gojo?” Itadori asked as he turned to you and Fushguro, only to find the male student with a frown on his face as he looked to the side.

“Huh? What’s the matter, Fushiguro?” Itadori questioned, as he wasn’t sure on why Fushiguro seemed to be moodier than he originally was.

“Nothing,” Fushiguro bluntly answered, not making his answer very convincing for you, Itadori, Kugisaki and Gojo leading your teacher to think it was the best time to tease his shikigami-user student.

“He’s pouting because he didn’t get to join in,” Gojo mentioned with a sly smile, which caused Kugisaki to lean back with her hand on her lips to cover her laugh.

“What a child,” Kugisaki teased, causing Fushiguro to groan in frustration before giving the female sorcerer with an irritated glare which led to Itadori laughing at the facial expression, leaving you to stay silent as you watched the scene in front of you.

‘But I’ll make sure you have the most normal life as you possibly can, so make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

“Yeah mother, I’m trying,” you whispered before continuing to walk with everyone to wherever you all were heading off to without realising the events that will occur in the future.

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sweetmidnights · 4 years ago

Text

All Too Well (part 2)-- Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Request: “Hurt/comfort prompt "why haven’t you called?” “I’ll never be good enough” “theres no reason to apologize" “your better off without me, I know you are” “it would take much more than that to drive me away” “please, open the door” and fluff prompt “i will always choose you” “your stunning” for emily prentiss x fem!reader. hurt/comfort.“

Words: 2.3k

Warning: I have a really hard time writing the typical scenario in which these phrases would all be used at the same time. So I tried to get a little creative with it. This comfort is kinda niche, the kind of comfort that I would need.

AO3

part 1

--------

Two weeks had gone by since New Year's Eve and life was slowly going back to normal. When Derek had called the next morning, asking what had happened, you told him the truth: that Emily had shown up and that you had made an ass of yourself as you burned yourself to the quick with your anger. It weighed heavily on your soul the foul words you had said to Emily but you couldn't bring yourself to regret the catharsis doing so had brought. A weight had been lifted from your shoulders now that Emily had finally heard of the words she had denied you from speaking with her radio silence.

"Sergio, look what Aunt Penny got you!" you said as you pulled a small box out of your purse. The team had just finished up a case and the technical analyst had invited you out to brunch while the team flew home because she wanted to check up on you after the New Year's debacle. Inside the box was a cute little bowtie collar that was your favorite color.

"You're going to look so handsome in this, yes you are," you cooed as you fastened it around the feline's neck. Sergio began to purr and nudge his head against the palm of your hand. Any reason for attention was good enough to make him happy, even if it came from being put in silly cat clothes. He really was the most patient boy.

Three gentle knocks sounded from the door and you looked down at Sergio, cocking your head.

"Who could that be, sweet boy? Does mama have a visitor?"

You walked to the foyer and looked through the peephole. Staring back at you was a ragged-looking Emily, her hair thrown into a messy bun on her head and an oversized sweatshirt she had once stolen from you hanging limp from her shoulders. She must have come straight from the jet and the guilt on your conscience from the way you had last spoken to her left little room for hesitation in opening the door.

With little fanfare or greeting, you let Emily in, guiding her to sit at the kitchen counter where Sergio was grooming himself.

"Hi, baby boy," she said softly in his direction, the cat's ears immediately perking up as he began to trill and aggressively throw his body against Emily's hands.

You let the two get reacquainted for a few seconds before clearing your throat and speaking up.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved the last time you were here, Emily. I was out of line and I said horrible things that you didn't deserve."

Your words were honest and sincere, you were sorry for the anger and hatred that spewed from your lips and any pain that you had caused the woman, no matter how justified they may have seemed.

"There is no reason to apologize, Y/N. I probably deserved worse after the way I left things and then just waltzing back in here thinking that everything would be fine." Emily continued to pet Sergio as she spoke, splitting her attention between you and the furry creature. "What you said stung, sure, but I think I needed to hear it."

"Well, I'm still sorry," you responded, coming to sit on the stool next to Emily's at the counter. "I could have said it a hundred different ways."

Emily nodded her head and let out a deep breath.

"I—I want to talk about what happened. I owe you one hell of an apology and an explanation," she said as she looked to your face, scanning for any hint as to what you were feeling. You only gave a nod of consent in response before Emily continued.

"I am so incredibly sorry for the way that I have hurt you," Emily began, her free hand twitching with the desire to grab yours. "The way I treated you is completely inexcusable and I will admit that from the moment I came home from Paris until the moment I broke up with you, and even beyond, I wasn't taking into account the fact that you were another living person with feelings that would be impacted by the choices I was making."

You didn't speak as Emily continued with her apology and explanation, wanting to hear her out in her entirety before you let your voice break the spell of her vulnerability.

"After I 'died' and came back, everything felt so wrong. The team didn't feel the same, DC didn't feel the same, this apartment didn't feel the same, even our relationship didn't feel the same. I felt like I was spending so much time and effort trying to force the old pieces of my life back together that I didn't leave any room for who I had become. I felt trapped and suffocated like I was living a life I didn't deserve anymore, like I was an imposter sliding into the life of a woman who had died in Boston."

Your breath hitched at the mention of Boston, memories flooding back from the seven months you had grieved Emily.

"And that isn't an excuse for the way I treated you, not in the slightest. I just want to give some context for what was going on."

You nodded and allowed for Emily to continue.

"When I came back, the only thing that was the same was your love for me and, in return, my love for you. I took for granted the fact that when I came home, you were just so relieved to have me back that you barely asked any questions, barely had any reaction at all. I realize in hindsight that you probably were in shock and then after were spending so much time trying to help me heal that there wasn't room for you to have your emotions or to process your own trauma from the ordeal.

"The last thing I had wanted was to hurt you. But I was too afraid to let you in. I was ashamed of myself for causing you so much pain and I felt like I no longer deserved your love. Every time you tried to meet me halfway, I couldn't accept the truce because that meant you would see me. I couldn't buy the house or move to New York because that meant there would be nothing left between us but my trauma that I wasn't ready to unpack. So, I fled to London where I could have my patched-up friendships and not have to acknowledge to the only person in the world that would have known any better that I was not okay."

You could feel tears stinging in your eyes as Emily described how she had felt, how the relationship had been crumbling for so much longer than you wanted to recognize.

"In London, things started to feel better. There was no expectation of who I should be, there was no pressure for me to return to being a person that didn't exist anymore. I was able to work through my shit and keep myself busy. But for those first two years, I knew that there was still someone waiting for me back home to return. I knew that you were waiting for me to get all whole and healed and come back to you."

A frown pulled at the corners of your mouth as Emily continued to speak. You had never wanted Emily to feel like she had to be anything other than who she was in that moment. You didn't care if you ever got the "old" Emily back, you had just wanted Emily back period.

"So as the time came that we were going to close the distance, I panicked. I was afraid that you moving to London would uncover all of the ways that I wasn't the woman you loved anymore, and I was even more afraid that you would want that woman back despite how much healthier I had become after letting her go."

Unable to sit quietly any longer, you interrupted Emily. "I would have never wanted that, Emily. I just wanted you; I just wanted to love you."

Emily let out a shaky sigh and wiped at her face, tears finally falling freely, something that had rarely happened in all the time you had known her.

"I know that now," Emily said, fussing with the elastic holding her hair up. "But I was so messed up after Doyle, I was hurting so much that I was still constantly in fight or flight. I still couldn't slow down long enough to realize you weren't the enemy, that I was safe."

You sat silently once more, unsure of what to say.

"I fucked up, big time," Emily said with a bit of a snort. "But I'm healing and I'm growing and I want nothing more than another chance to make this right with you."

"I'm so sorry that you were going through all of that," you said, looking at Emily's tear-stained face. "I wish I could have been a better support to you through that."

You ran your fingers through your hair and tried to suck in a breath.

"I love you, Emily, and I don't think I will ever stop. But how can I trust that I will finally be worth it this time? That I will be worth the vulnerability and the work and the therapy? Maybe you will get shot and have some kind of epiphany that you're not supposed to be in DC anymore. Or what if you go through some kind of midlife crisis and realize that there are a hundred other things more worthy of your time and a thousand other people more worthy of your love?

"You broke me, Emily. And I don't know that I am even worth the effort to fix. I wasn't enough for you when I was normal me, how can I trust that I will be enough now? What if you listen to all my shit and decide that it's too much? What will I do then?"

The independent part of you internally cringed as you spoke to Emily about your insecurities, scolding you for letting your own anxious monologue become words for Emily to hear.

"It would take a lot more than that to drive me away," Emily said, responding to your unease by taking your hand in hers. "I've learned my lesson and if you'll let me, I want to spend every day making up for all the ways I have failed you."

A stirring of hope began to flutter in your chest as you watched Emily's eyes melt into a warmth that only shone through with sincerity and compassion. It would go against everything you stood for to allow for this woman who made you feel so worthless back into your life. But as you watched the strongest, most stoic woman you know cry openly as she professed her love, noticing how her raven hair curled in tendrils around her neck and her soft hands comforted both you and Sergio, you couldn't help but wonder what if. What if you took that chance just one more time?

"If we do this, we start from the beginning. The very beginning," you said, finally flipping your hand so that Emily could interlock your fingers.

"Understood. I want to do this the right way, I want to regain your trust."

"And you have to promise that even if I let all of my gray hairs grow in and get old and stop wearing makeup and I act like a pathetic, insecure teenager, you still won't give up on me."

Emily's heart broke with your words, remembering back to everything you said on New Year's and how you had known about her fling with her young secretary in London.

"I will always choose you. You're stunning now and you always will be, even when your brain tells you to hate yourself and you need extra reassurance. I love you."

Without giving a response, you threw yourself into Emily's arms, hugging her tightly for the first time in what felt like forever, taking in the sounds and smells of being in her embrace again. Emily pulled back first, gripping your chin as she spoke.

"You are so incredibly enough, Y/N, and I am sorry that I made you feel otherwise. You are strong, capable, and one of the most loving people that I know. You were enough back then, you always have been enough, I was the one who was too stupid to see it, okay?" Emily said as she trailed her thumb across your cheek. "There is no universe in which you are ever unworthy of love, of my love. No matter how you're feeling or who you've become, you will always be enough."

Those last words, the reassurance you had been desperate to hear from the moment you locked eyes at Rossi's party, were the last push you needed to take the plunge.

"Okay, let's try again," you said hopefully, looking into Emily's eyes.

It was understood that that was a lot of ground to cover before you and Emily could really fall back into love, before you could rebuild what had been destroyed. There would be years of therapy, hours upon hours of work dedicated to repairing all the trust that had been broken. But, at the end of the day, you were two damaged people committed to making a life together filled with love, light, compassion, and security.

This was step one, but you had faith that you would walk hand-in-hand with Emily through them all and would make it to the other side happier, stronger, and more in love than you had been before.

taglist: @morcias // @storiesofsvu // @demisicle // @prentisspoppet // @ssajemilyprentiss // @alexbllake // @prentissology // @agcntemily // @sapphicalexblake // @temilyrights // @maxinish // @the-fallen-left-stars // @shorttstackk // @none2434 // @illbeyourgg // @5raysofsunshine // @hippiemuppet // @sapphic-stress // @iminluvwithpenemily // @simmonsmilf // @ms-calhoun // @captainchilly // @mariahv1677

#my fic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentis imagine #emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss birthday celebration 2021🍭

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aizawaorkuroo · 4 years ago

Text

A Burnt Offering

Ship: Dabi x f!reader

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Your long lost childhood friend sends you letters. And then everything falls apart. Or perhaps together? Otherwise known as “Dabi wants you. And Dabi gets what he wants.”

Warnings: dubcon, non-consensual voyeurism, stalking, manipulation, spitting, dacryphilia, size kink, overstimulation, creampie, cock warming, unprotected sex

A/N: Spoilers for ch. 290 kinda!!! Don’t think too hard about how they’re childhood friends. Not going to be canon compliant cause i make the rules uwu,, also this is a little darker than what I’ve written in the past, (but still pretty soft all things considered) so please read the warnings!!!

_________________________________

“Dreamed of peach trees. Dreamed, again, of drowning. Dreamed of highways becoming rivers. Dreamed of me, my long hair in flames, my body no longer a body, but a burnt offering, strange smoke rising up to meet him” - Nicola Maye Goldberg

The first letter you received was a little out of the ordinary, but nothing special. It had been left under your doormat, sticking out ever so slightly. You had brushed it off, assuming they had gotten the address wrong, or meant to send it to the person who lived in your apartment before you.

The right thing would’ve been to leave it there, or throw it away. But curiosity is a fickle beast, choosing to rear its head at strange times.

You furrow your brows, eyes scanning the words hastily scratched onto the paper. It felt familiar, but nothing truly stuck with you. You couldn’t think too hard about it, now when you had so much to get done.

It was a random occurrence, one that slipped your mind as you went about your day, the letter sitting on your kitchen counter.

hey,

we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you i guess. i swear to god i sometimes still feel your hand in mine and sometimes i think of your smile. maybe I’ll see you soon.

It’s left unsigned, and you can’t help but to feel bad that it got sent to you. But there’s no return address, nothing to hint at where it’s supposed to go. So it sits on your counter, slipping out of your mind in the following weeks.

The second letter sends a small shiver down your spine.

“you will be alone always and then you will die.” i can’t remember who told me that, but it rings around my head. there are days where it feels like it’s true, like time will catch up with me and I’ll be gone. but it’s not true. because I used to have you. but I’ll have you again.

Your eyes gloss over the words, a small frown slipping onto your face. Something melancholic sinks into you, making a home in your chest.

“You will be alone always and then you will die,” you whisper to yourself, fingers grazing over the sloppy letters. You feel guilty that the writer’s thoughts are stuck with you instead of this person they so desperately miss.

Yet there’s something unyielding about the last line, something so definite. Curiosity fills you, and you can’t help but to want to get the letter to where it’s supposed to be. But like the first letter, there’s no return address, no signature, nothing outside of the longing in the letter.

So it sits on the counter with the first, the weight of the words lingering in your chest until it too is forgotten.

_________________________________

You’re sitting on a hill, watching as the stars plummet down. Someone’s sitting next to you, but when you turn to face him, he stays blurry as if he exists on the edges of reality, unable to be fully perceived.

You watch as a rainbow of flames overtake him and recede, further obscuring him. But the flames continue to cycle in and out, a constant ebb and flow. You know who he is.

He flickers, you cannot touch him. You place your hand on the flames. Nothing burns. When you look up again, the hill is gone. You're sitting in inky darkness, watching as the stars continue to fall all around you. And the boy is gone too. In his place is something of shadow and smoke, two gleaming blue eyes tearing into you. You freeze, unable to do anything but stare.

It stalks towards you slowly, grinning to show rows of sharp teeth. You know what it wants, you can feel the need across the space in between you too. And so close your eyes and tilt your neck, offering yourself up. And you don’t scream when it takes the first bite.

“I’m always on your side.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding. You’re awake now, but you feel like the stars are still falling around you and him - right.

Touya.

His name blossoms in your head, memories of laughter and secrets told underneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Your head's pounding, and you run to the bathroom, splashing water on your face. That night, the last night you had seen him, when you watched the stars streak across the sky.

“I’m always on your side.”

A promise that withered into something shallow after he disappeared.

You blink at your reflection, fists curled into themselves so tightly it hurts. You wish Touya could hold your hand now.

You don’t go back to sleep.

_________________________________

The third letter makes you frown a little. Three makes a pattern.

Really wish you would say something back. Has it been that long? Guess that’s to be expected.

You scan the page, melancholic thoughts lingering until you read the last line. Your eyes widen, heart leaping in your throat, as you read it over and over again. Your hands are shaking, mind cloudy, breath short.

Really, say something back y/n.

Your name, clear as day. They know your name. You’re the recipient. You blink blankly as a line from the previous letter pops into your brain. I’ll have you again.

The letter sits untouched on the counter for days before you finally build up the courage to tentatively write back. Who is this?

As you shakily write, it dawns on you how stupid this is. You should be going to the police, or getting a security system. But you can’t help but wonder who it is, and the fickle beast inside of you rears its head.

You tentatively place the response under the doormat, and scurry back inside, as if the action would burn you. The next morning the note is gone.

_________________________________

It takes a few days for you to get a response. When you get home from work, you’re tempted to walk right past it, pretending to not see it. You could just let it slip from your mind, go on with your life as if nothing has changed. But nothing can ever be simple, and with shaking hands, you steal the letter before locking yourself inside.

I can imagine how scared you must be. I bet you’d look so cute. Part of me wants to make you guess. But I’d rather speed this up. It’s me. Y’know. Touya.

“Touya,” you whisper. It’s heavy on your lips. “Touya.” Your throat is raw. “Touya, Touya, Touya.” Your chest burns. Tufts of red hair, memories of childhood and shooting stars.

Brain pulsing in overdrive, you try to reconcile what you know to be true and what is being told to you.

1. Touya was your best friend.

This one is a fact. You remembered holding his hand, running around the estate. He would be battered, bruises and burns littering his skin. Right. His father. You shiver thinking about the man.

2. Touya disappeared as a child.

Another fact. You remember his mom’s tear-stained face as she turned you away, and when you were back home, safe in bed, you cried so hard you thought you’d never stop shaking.

3. Touya is still alive.

The first in your list that is debatable. No one’s seen him for years. It’s fully possible something horrible could have happened to him. But there’s no evidence he’s dead. If you can reason that Touya is still alive, then it’s possible…

4. Touya is sending you letters.

The most difficult conclusion of all. If Touya is alive, it could be possible he’s sending you letters. But there’s no way to guarantee it is him. It could be some stranger, some pervert pretending to be your sweet redhead from childhood. You would have to test him.

Your response is careful, calculated as you try to navigate your emotions. Your hands shake as you write the final line, a question.

What was the last thing we did?

A small frown slips onto your face. It’s kind of a lame question, and yet it’s the best you can do. But it’s a baseline, a place to start.

His response comes almost immediately.

We watched a meteor shower. Go ahead. Dig deeper.

You chew on your lip while thinking. “Touya” is off to a good start, but there’s still no guarantee. So you push farther

Where did we hide the bowl I accidentally broke?

C’mon, it was a vase, not a bowl. We buried it along the fenceline. Good try.

You smile at the memory, the way you had cried over the broken porcelain, embarrassment coursing through you. Touya had helped you hide the evidence, telling you no one would find out.

What did you promise me?

I’m always on your side.

You inhale sharply, eyes glued to his messy scrawl. That’s it. It has to be him. You’ve never told that to anyone before. You squeeze your eyes shut, but you can see stars falling all around you. You feel a little light headed.

How did you find me?

Pure chance. I missed you, y/n. Does your face scrunch up when you get mad still? It was so fucking cute.

Shut the fuck up, Touya.

You don’t know how he’s done it, but Touya has inserted himself back into your life, whisking you off your feet with his stupid jokes and laid back attitude. And everyone in a while he’ll say something, that has you burying your face into your pillow, face warm and stomach in knots.

I’m going to hold you, and never let you go.

Would you let me kiss you? Would you let me sink my teeth into you? I bet you would.

I’d kiss you until you melt.

That one in particular made your chest burn, full of something warm and sappy. You read it over and over again, until the words are branded in your brain.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table at 2 am when you realize, you would. You would let him kiss you, let him sweep you off your feet. It occurs to you that you don’t know what he looks like anymore, but his words reach into you, stirring everything around to the point that you’re completely enamored anyways.

A sharp knock draws you from your thoughts. You narrow your eyes, glancing at the clock. Hesitantly, you approach your front door. You hover right in front of it, debating on whether or not to open it again. There’s a chance that no one’s even there anymore.

A second forceful knock makes your stomach flip. Taking a deep breath, you crack the door open.

Your eyes widen, and you're deafened by the blood pumping through you. Patchwork skin, pitch-black hair; you feel yourself begin to panic.

Dabi. You recognized him from the Fukuoka fight that was on TV. You slam the door shut before he has a chance to say anything.

“No, no, no. Don’t do this to me y/n.” His voice is muffled by the door, but the separation doesn’t hide the way his voice barely cracks. You feel sick, brain cloudy as the room spins around you.

“How do you know my name?” you choke out, stomach growing nauseous.

“I thought we already did this… but you can’t recognize me either.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wracking your brain for what he could be talking about.

“After all those letters.”

Oh.

Your stomach drops, and your heart does with it. Dabi is Touya. Touya is Dabi. You tremble against the door, flashes of red hair and childhood innocence ghosting through your mind. You should’ve paid more attention to how he found you.

“Open the door.” Touya’s voice- no Dabi’s voice? You shake your head at the confusion, finding it difficult to reconcile the two versions of him you know. Regardless, his voice is even now, something sharp lingering beneath the soft surface.

You shut your eyes, letting your head rest against the door; it’s all too much for you. You can practically feel the tears stinging the back of your eyes. Maybe he’ll go away, maybe you don’t have to have a breakdown in the middle of the night.

“Open up for me, Y/N.”

You blink your eyes open, something cold slipping down your spine. He’s not going away. He could burn the door down if he wanted to. You know what he does now, and you feel so fucking stupid. The fact that he’s asking is an unexpected kindness. Summoning all the willpower you have, you open the door, hand grasping the handle to avoid shaking.

Dabi’s head tilts to the side as his eyes meet yours, and a sharp grin pulls at his lips.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Your eyes dip to the floor, and you stumble to the side, closing the door as he brushes past you.

You awkwardly stand in front of him, fingers messing with the hem of your shirt as you try to control your breathing. Your stomachs in your throat as Dabi circles you. He is not the boy you knew. There’s an edge to him, a coldness radiating off of him that rolls into you.

“Now you can’t even look at me,” he sneers. Your gaze tilts up to meet him, trembling his words. Your heart lurches as you take in his appearance again. The puckered flesh, the staples, the jet black hair. It’s all too much.

But his eyes.

His eyes are the same, the same vivid blue that haunts your dreams. It hurts looking at him now, but it also hurts remembering what he was.

Hesitantly, you reach out to cup his face. He tenses under your touch, eyes flashing in warning. You swallow past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small “hi.” Your voice cracks under the weight of emotions, but his eyes soften, and he ever so gently tilts his head into your hand. And that’s enough.

A steady stream of tears leak from your eyes; you’re not completely sure why you’re crying, the emotions too jumbled, too complex to pinpoint a specific reason. Your thumb brushes over the marred skin under his eyes, and you feel sick. Like everything that’s wrong with the world has reared its ugly head in your apartment. But it hasn’t. It’s Touya.

“Awww. Baby girl’s crying for me, huh?” he teases, making you narrow your eyes. He moves quickly, pulling you against him before you can step away. “Still the same crybaby from before.” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore the way your head’s spinning.

“What else am I supposed to do?” you bite back, letting your head rest against him. “I missed you.” He scoffs at that, hands sliding down to grip your waist.

Your breath stutters, and you squirm in his hold, unsure what to think. His grip tightens, making you wince. You pull your head back to look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. Touya leans in close, eyes glued to you.

“Glad you missed me,” he mutters, and the borderline painful grip switches to something softer as he massages your flesh. “I missed you too, Y/N.” His voice rumbles through you softly, making your stomach flip. His tongue darts out of his mouth to flash across your cheek, licking the salty trail your tears left behind.

“Touya, what the fuck?”

You jerk away from him, sputtering as he throws his head back in laughter. Your skin feels too hot, and you struggle to put together a thought. You wiggle out of his grasp, wiping your face, and glaring at him.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that,” he laughs, obviously not taking this seriously. But you just shake your head, trying to squash all of your feelings.

“What do you want?” Your voice bends under the stress, and you face screws up, trying to stop the pathetic flow of tears.

“To see you,” he murmurs, eyes softer than before. The feelings behind the phrase are normally enough to make you giggle and your eyes turn into hearts.

But this is Touya, or Dabi, or some bizarre amalgamation of the two. And you know what he’s done now. You know the price he’s paid. He is not the same.

“That’s not an answer. You shouldn’t be here,” you bite at him. All traces of warmth leave Dabi’s face, and your stomach drops. Something cold and sharp glints in his eyes, threatening to cut you if you get too close. You take a tiny step back, but he simply follows.

“Don’t be like this, Y/N.” His voice is tense, a warning of who he is now, what he’s done, what he could do to you. He cocks his head to the side, eyes trailing over you, gauging your reaction. He’s not the same. You know he’s not the same. His patchwork skin is proof of that enough.

It’s not fair. Echoes of childish giggles and burning blue eyes dance across your thoughts. But what he had done to all those people…You shut your eyes, crossing your arms as if you could hold yourself together.

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You were gone, for so long. And then you sent those fucking letters, and all I could think of was seeing you again. But you’re…” you trail off, but the unsaid hangs heavy in the air.

“Broken,” he hisses out, cold eyes narrowed at you as he gestures to his body. You glare right back at him, tears still flowing.

“It has nothing to do with that,” you manage to force out. “I just- I just don't know who you are.” Dabi’s face twists up into something bitter and forceful, a hurricane that’ll sweep you into something dangerous, you just know it. He is not the same.

“I wrote you those letters, Y/N. I’m still me.” But you don’t know who that is. Not anymore. He abruptly steps forward, forcing you against the wall, eyes wide in panic. He’s too close to your face, too warm, too overwhelming.

You missed him so much, and it hurts. It hurts to see what happened, how he had to put himself back together, a dull mosaic that’s missing pieces. He reaches out to brush his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I’m always on your side.”

If it had been anyone else but Touya, you would’ve scoffed and kicked them out. But he knows you. He knows how you think, he knows what’ll make you respond.

After all, he’s been watching you, making sure he knows how to say that’ll make you bend to his will. Touya wants you, his sweet best friend, to be his forever. So he knows what to say.

And something in you finally gives in, and you wrap arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He slips his arms around your waist, holding you flush against him.

Your knees wobble, legs failing you as you melt to the ground. Touya follows you down, arms circling around you tighter as he smiles into your hair.

Fuck the league. Fuck his family. Fuck a normal life. Fuck, the whole world can burn down. He doesn’t give a fuck. But maybe, just maybe if there’s anyone out there listening, just let him have this. Just this once.

“That’s my baby girl,” he murmurs against you, pulling you into his lap. He kicks out his legs behind you, bending his knees to force snug against him. If he were a better man, he’d be content with this, having you on his side.

But Touya is not a good man. He’s greedy for more, and all he can think about is the heat radiating from your cunt.

His hands splay out against your back, gently rubbing you as you sniffle against him. But he can’t help it when his hands start to travel further down. You sound so cute and desperate, it ignites something within him. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, making you freeze against him. You lean away, lips trembling as your eyebrows draw together.

“Touya, what are you doing?” You sound pathetic to your own ears, and you hate it. But you’re not given any time to dwell on it when he leans forward, lips a few mere centimeters from yours. He rocks you gently against him, watching the conflict in your eyes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning to peck the corner of your lips. “I’m always on your side. Let me make you feel good.”

You stay stiff against him, hands slowly tangling into his hair as he litters the side of your neck with sloppy kisses. One of his hands pushing its way down your little shorts making you gasp. You can feel his erection growing beneath you, and you bite your lip, trying to make a decision to stop him or not.

“Touya,” you ask, “are you sure?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” You’re not 100% sure if this is the right decision, but he feels so good against you. And he’s handsome, scars and all. The intense warmth from earlier slipping into something more comforting, enveloping you as you rock against his hand ever so slightly.

So you don’t stop him. He would never hurt you, right? And it's been a while since you’ve gotten laid. Touya’s made sure of that. So you let him continue his exploration, melting against him as he gently rubs at your clit.

Touya watches your face, memorizing the expressions you make as he slips a finger into your hot cunt. To be clear, he’s seen your face when you’ve creamed around your little fingers on your own, unaware that he was stroking his cock outside your window. But you look so much better, happier even, when it’s his fingers you’re grinding into.

He nips at your neck, before pulling his fingers out of your shorts. He pushes you off of his lap, rolling his eyes at the way you pout.

“Calm down, baby girl. Wanna taste you.”

“Wait!” you warn. Touya freezes, eyes flicking up to yours, taking you in curiously. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” you stutter out, nervous at the look in his eyes. You can’t help but to feel embarrassed, laying on the floor of your apartment sputtering with your childhood best friend turned villain nestled against the apex of your thighs. Anything that can restore an ember of normalcy to the situation would make you feel better at this point.

Touya rests his head against your thigh, warmth returned to his eyes. He smiles at you a little too widely, too sharply. He resembles a predator, something stalking alone at night. Something you shouldn’t have let inside. He’s going to eat you alive. And maybe you’re okay with it.

“Alright, little girl. Lead the way.”

An awkward, hot tension surrounds you as you scrabble off the floor, grabbing his hand as you pull him towards the bedroom. Your thumb brushes over the staples, heart twisting at the feeling.

But the melancholic sting is forgotten once he’s leaving sharp little bites on your thighs, your clothes and his jacket tossed to a forgotten corner of your bedroom. His breath is hot against your exposed skin, goosebumps following his path to your hot cunt.

You’re nervous, still unsure of your current predicament. But Touya pinches your thigh, bringing your attention back to him as he watches as your thighs tense around him. His eyes meet yours, confident and sure of his place between your legs, and all of your uncertainty vanishes, consumed by the want and desire that fills you.

His eyes meet yours, clear and sharp, and he brings his hands to your pussy, thumbs pulling your folds open. His gaze drops, focused on your cunt, watching the way you clench around nothing. You squirm, embarrassed at the intensity of his stare.

“So wet already,” he mumbles, before his tongue swipes along your slit. You let out a small gasp, slamming your hand to your mouth in a lame attempt to gag yourself. Touya narrows his eyes, as he laps away, tongue flicking up to tease your clit, circling it but never touching the sensitive bud. You whine into your hand, trying to keep your hips still as he takes his time.

“Drop that hand.” The rumble of his voice travels through you, making you shiver. “Drop it, and I’ll touch this cute little clit.” Looking at him nervously, your hand falls tentatively, hovering above his hair, unsure if it’s okay to ground yourself there. Touya rolls his eyes, before pushing your hand down.

His tongue swipes at your clit making your hips jolt. He lets out a snort before repeating the action. Your grip in his hair is light, not wanting to hurt him; but your self-control goes out the door the second his lips make a seal around your clit.

He sucks at the throbbing bud, eyes lighting up at the way you buck against him, moaning loudly. Your fingers tangle into his hair, keeping him snug against your cunt. He slips a finger into your sopping hole, practically melting at how warm and wet it is. He needs to be inside you. Soon.

“Touya,” you moan, rocking in an attempt to increase the friction. He curls his finger inside of you, mouth still focused on your engorged bud. Your grip in his hair tightens, the pleasure that’s been simmering building rapidly.

“Gonna cum!” you squeal in warning. He doesn’t slow down, eyes trained on your face as your jaw drops, a choked noise clawing out of your throat. You tense around him, muscles quivering at the intensity of your orgasm. You whine and buck against him, and he lets you ride at your orgasm.

When his ministrations borderline into pain, you weakly push his head away, trying to catch your breath. He lets you pull away, eyes glimmering cruelly.

“That was fast.”

You whine in response, moving your hands to cover your face. Touya hisses, surging forward to yank your hands above your head. You wince as he squeezes, eyes narrowing on your face.

“Don’t hide what’s mine.” His lips pull back into a lazy grin as his eyes trail over your body, landing on your glistening cunt. “Gonna fuck you so good,” he mutters, mostly to himself. You blink stupidly at him when he lets you go, processing the fact that he’s kicked off his pants and taking his cock out.

Your eyes widen when you see the shiny piercings that gleam on his cock. It excites you, making your cunt clench around nothing. And yet your stomach drops when you finally realize that he’s bigger than you thought he would be. You bite your lip, trying to tame the swarm of nerves that take over the excitement.

“Touya, I think I need-” he cuts you off with a sloppy kiss. Your hips cant when you feel the head of his cock sliding along the lips of your pussy, his piercings tapping at your clit nicely. You’re not sure if you’re ready for him, and it simultaneously excites and terrifies you. But he leans on you, keeping you still with his body weight.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Open up for me,” he murmurs. And then next thing you know his lips are on yours, but you can’t help but to let out a cry against him when he thrusts his cock into you, bottoming out. He’s red hot inside of you, and tears prickle the corners of your eyes, leaking out as your nails dig into his back.

“So warm,” he murmurs, before pulling his hips back and thrusting into you. You cry out at the harsh stretch, tears falling down your cheeks as his piercings pull at your walls. He seems to like that though, and he brings a hand up to your cheek, thumb stroking the salty liquid. “You’re pretty when you cry.” He punctuates the sentence with a particularly harsh thrust, sending more tears down your face. “Attagirl,” he coos, looking absolutely enamored with your blubbering face.

“Touya, please,” you whine, not exactly sure what you’re asking for. But Touya seems to know, a sharp grin spreading wide on his face.

“Awww, does my baby girl wanna feel good too?” You nod, face twisted as you babble away.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.” He kisses you again messily, before slipping a hand in between your bodies to play with your exhausted clit. He massages the swollen bud, sighing as you start to gush around him. “Is that better?” You nod and whine, hands twisting in his hair to hold him against you.

Touya can’t help but chuckle, and he presses another kiss into your neck before sucking on the skin there. His thrusts are gentler now, appreciating the snug warmth that surrounds his cock. If he could stay buried in the heat of your cunt forever, he would.

He’s drawn from his thoughts when you tug at his shirt, wanting it gone. He stills against you, tensing. You look up at him with a pout, eyes begging him to take it off.

“Please,” you whine. “I wanna feel you.” His mouth opens, and you can already hear the annoying quip that lies on the tip of his tongue, so you push forward, hands tangled into his shirt. “I wanna feel all of you.” He pauses, head tilting to the side as you watch the gears turn behind his eyes.

“Please.” Your voice is soft, as you try to avoid squirming around his dick. Something seems to click in his mind because he draws back, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes wander across the expanse of stapled skin, the puckered burns, making your heart squeeze. But there’s nothing you can say, nothing you can change. So you reach out to him, beckoning him into your arms.

He falls forward, barely supporting himself, letting his body cover yours. You wrap your arms and legs around him holding him close as he begins to lightly thrust again.

“You feel so good,” you cry out panting against his face. Touya angles his head to face you, eyes boring into yours as his breaths mix with yours. It’s too hot, too much, but you can’t move away, overwhelmed by the sensations and entranced by his eyes.

Touya’s hips increase in pace, rutting violently against yours, the sharp sting of his skin against yours making you whine. Each thrust into you, steals your breath away, your hands digging into his back.

“Ever since I found you again, I needed to have you, needed you back. I wasn’t going to let myself lose you again,” he growls. You whimper as you gush around him, finding that you want him to stay buried in your pussy forever.

“Stick out your tongue,” he barks out. His eyes flash, and you do as he says, all while letting out little gasps as he thrusts into you. He hovers above you, a cruel grin spread out on his face. You watch as he spits onto your tongue, a shudder going down your spine. He reaches out to grip your open jaw harshly.

“Swallow.” When he lets go you do exactly that, cunt squeezing tightly. “Oh you like that?” he laughs as you nod. He hums before kissing you sloppily.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re gonna do what I say from now on. I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”

You should be alarmed by the promise of obedience, but you feel too good to care right now.

“Mine, mine, mine.”

It crosses your mind to tell him that you don’t belong to him, but all you can do is nod and hold him closer.

“Wanted to be inside this pussy the moment I saw you. You’re never gonna want another cock than mine.” At this point, all you can do is whine and nod, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you again, baby girl. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll take care of you.” Your nails scratch down his back, making him hiss, as your hips rut against him.

“Touya,” you cry out, tears leaking from your eyes so sweetly. “Gonna cum again.” He nods, lips brushing against yours.

“Wanna feel you cream around me, baby girl.” You nod blankly, drunk on the feeling of his cock pounding into you, piercings pulling so nicely at your gummy walls.

Propping himself up with one arm, he slips his hand in between your bodies, fingers playing with your clit again. It’s enough to send you over the edge, and you cry out, writing against him as your pussy gushes around his cock, squeezing him tightly.

He chokes against you, and your pulsating cunt launches him into his own orgasm. Touya’s hips jerk against you as his cum paints the inside of your cunt. He collapses against you as you twitch in a post-orgasmic haze. He nips at your neck, alternating the sharp stings with sweet kisses.

“You did so good, baby. So good to me. I’ll take care of you. I promise,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver. You’re still panting, sweeping your hands over his back, before they land in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. He shuts his eyes, enjoying the sensations and the warmth, letting himself get lost in you, if only for a little bit.

But when he pushes himself off of you, pulling his hips away, you whine. Your legs lock around him, keeping him lodged inside you. He barks out a laugh before flopping down on his side, pulling you against him.

“I’ll stay right here. Don’t worry.”

“Touya…” you murmur, gently. He sends you a questioning gaze, waiting. You lean forward, pressing your lips against his, trying to convey the complexity of what you’re feeling. He responds aggressively, as if you might disappear. But it makes you melt. Maybe he was right about that.

When you draw back, his thumb strokes at leftover tears on your cheek.

“It’s okay, You’re mine now.” It’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, but it’s all you get from him because he pulls you tight against him, eyes shutting in exhaustion.

You curl up against him, feeling his breathing even out. His cock feels heavy inside of you, and something cold sits in your stomach.

You shouldn’t have done that. He’s not okay. You really shouldn’t have done that. But you would deal with that in the morning.

For now, Touya is yours, and you’ll enjoy the warmth of his skin and the way the stars fall when you shut your eyes.✨

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

Text

Rolling ⟿ Hisoka x fem!reader

Includes : praising, smut, watersports, consumption of alcohol, use of molly, swearing.

Word count : 4,8k

A/N, I haven’t really written something like this, I’ve never taken molly but I did sorta look it up, I don’t condone using molly, nor do I condone drinking. This smut is for the sole purpose of a little fun night.

••

"And who might you be?"

••

The event was at it’s prime, everyone chatting, drinking, eating, I hated the idea of coming but disregarded those thoughts the second I got ahold of some alcohol.

"I'm y/n, you?" The dark yet beautifully illuminated ballroom created a sparkle from my red gown, etching out my body to my liking. The tall man who stood two feet away from me devours me with his devilish yellow eyes; his charismatic smirk which quickly lured me in for more.

"Hm, I'm Hisoka, but enough about me. You're so exciting to look at, I must admit." I smile and blush, looking down at the rest of my dress.

"Thank you, what brings you here?" I change the subject, standing in the main area of the ballroom, the bar a reach away, I needed it.

"Ahh, just work business, and you?" While he talks, I observe what he's wearing; a black on black suit, his multicolored hair which was more or less intriguing.

"The same, I'm here with my Co. Owner." I smile, a server comes from Hisoka's right, a plate with champagne, he stands in front of us, I graciously take one and Hisoka does the same, thanking the waiter. His eyes slightly widen as he sips from the glass.

"A lady a charge?" He's tilted against the column, we look at each other intently, I kinda liked his vibe.

"Yep, what can I say!" I giggle, he retorts with a light chuckle, his low eyes captivating me more and more.

While you observed the man in front of you, you weren’t the only one, Hisoka was excited. He undressed you with his eyes so sensually, he could have ravaged you right there. The way your hair paired perfectly with your dress, your makeup was to impress others, you didn’t do this for yourself. You wanted people to look at you, Hisoka picked up on your undertoned confidence and he knew that he liked you. You also had a bite to your personality, he liked the power you held.

‘How have I not met her sooner?’

"Do you plan on going straight back to the hotel room? Or another party?" Hisoka shakes his thoughts out of his head, watching the pretty lady raise an eyebrow in return.

‘Another party? Well.. was I not invited or something?’ I shrug.

"I'd head to another party; if I had known one existed." I roll my eyes, he stands straight and turns around quickly, placing the empty glass on the high table next to us.

"It was more of a word of mouth thing; I'd be happy to take you as my plus one? But the scene might be different as you’re used to..."

"Who did you come with tonight?" I ask, changing the subject from the party for a light minute, wanting to be nosy, what if he had come with a woman.

"Just a few friends, god knows where they are." He jokes, I laugh, my fingers rolling the neck of my glass, swirling and swallowing the last sip of alcohol. The hot feeling in my stomach from the drink making me feel more loose and relaxed, ‘I could go with him to a party, where’s the harm?’

"We should." I nod simply, he smiles and wastes no time taking my empty glass from my hand. Swiftly placing it on a servers tray as the kid walked by. He signals for me to follow him. Leading the way and I follow close behind, my hand gently holding up the fabric of my dress so I don't trip, 'he was so tall', and quiet, who the fuck was this guy I've never even seen him before?

"Is it off base if I say that you strike me as very mysterious?" I toss my hunch out there, he looks back at me when we reach valet.

"I'd like to see myself as more of the withdrawn type." He sticks out his hand, I grab it, it was soft, his fingers long and lanky. He led me a few steps ahead when a car pulls up, opening the passenger side door of a black matte Camero; with red interior. 'Nice pick y/n' I do a little jig of accomplishment and slight excitement before he hops in the sports car.

He pulls the car out of park speedily and drives out of the culdesac.

"What do you do for work, Hisoka?" I ask him, he glanced at me, a hand holding his chin while his elbow sits on the middle console.

"I dip into a little of everything, call me an opportunist." He simply answers. There was a big lie right there, I've been able to pick apart things being true or false since childhood; my tack record never really failing me, he didn't need to know that.

"I own an agency, if you were curious."

But he assumed this. He guessed it when he recalled your name during tonights convo, she owned an agency, more like a school for beginning nen users, she raked in millions a year. A firecracker, determined and strong willed woman she was.

"My, quite fascinating, you must be of some talent, yeah?" He asks, a little of a misogynist thing to ask but I quickly shake it off, Hisoka speeds down the highway and I look out the front window.

"I guess." I hum, I glance at his hands, they kinda made me excited- the size...

Minutes later we arrive at a gated neighborhood, he swings his car through the entrance of the gates and I become excited, finally I could really get fucked up.

"Aren't we a little too overdressed for a house party?" I chuckle, he pulls up the the front of the house.

"This isn't your average party babygirl, no one cares what you'll be wearing." Babygirl? A slight cringe at how loosely he used the word. I furrow my eyebrows, before being able to question him someone is swinging open my door along with the drivers side. It was elegant- he looked... so good.

"Not my average party hu-" my mouth falls open a little before I look at him. I knew these some of these people. It was packed. But Hisoka never stopped shuffling through the crowd, leading me down the few stairs and ignoring any welcomes that came his way.

We reach a basement door, he knocks twice before opening it and he lets me in. There were a bunch of couches, a TV, a bar, kitchen etcetera. Everyone looked like they were rolling, drunk maybe?

No. Not rolling on the floor literally. But rolling on some type of psychedelic, or shitfaced for sure. My heart falls in my throat, baffled.

"I don't get into this kinda thing." I nervously chuckle, stepping away from him, he frowns, lifting his hand to my shoulder, caressing it.

"You will soon." I smirks, grabbing my hand and leading me deeper into the foyer. I look around, it looked fun, I wanted to feel it but I would leave myself open to being taken advantage of.

"Drink?" Standing in front of the bar, he pours vodka into a glass, I smirk. ‘Who was this man?’ I liked him, I ignore my slight anxiousness.

"Mhh, gladly; thank you." I hum, taking it from him, right as I'm about to drink from the glass he stops me, covering the opening of the glass with his palm.

"You'll be very- what's the word? Hot, if you drink that by the way." Referencing to the drink, is that what he did for a living, reeled women in to sex them up on molly and champagne?

"You want to take care of me? Hot and bothered Mr. Morow?" I lean into him, his head slightly dipped down so he can hear me, in all honesty, I already was hot and bothered. His bloodlust licking all over my body and seeping into my pores, he smelled amazing, the tone of his voice got me stirring in my shoes.

I look up at him through my thick eyelashes and he bites down onto his lip in anticipation on what was to come.

"You wanna get me vulnerable?" I reach up and scissor the fold of his black blazer, stroking it slightly, "you wanna take advantage of me Hisoka? Coulda’ just told me what you wanted from the jump." There had to have been something in the air.

While on the other end of things, Hisoka’s breath was quickly sucked out in a bit of a shock. His heart thudding a little faster than usual; god he could tear you up.

“I’m stronger than you think I am Hisoka,” I giggle. I was, I was always on my A game.

“What kind of man would that make me y/n?” He smirks, pressing his cheek against mine and whispering, “if I wanted to take advantage of you, I would’ve torn you to pieces before we even got into my car.” I gulp and pull away from him slowly, mustering up the courage and taking a swig out of the cup and his eyes widen, I stop halfway down the drink and press him to drink the rest.

“Go on, drink it Hisoka, you wanted to get me fucked up.” I chuckle, he pushes the cup and pours his own.

“Drink all of it, you wont regret it.”

••

My head was spinning, the walls dipping in and out, swirling, my third eye was 100% open for sure. I sat on the ‘L’ shaped couch, Hisoka diagonal from me sitting comfortably on the corner, we didn’t really talk. Or maybe we were talking? I really was out of it. I didn’t pay attention to the other party goers, there were around 30 people down here.

While he looked over at the wall, I started deep into his soul. The more I looked at him the more I envisioned him on top of me in some dimly lit room.

“Hmm, y/n, if you keep looking at me like that who knows what I’ll end up doing to you.” My eyes quickly snap up to meet his own.

I was so empty headed I didn’t have the capability of feeling embarrassed.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Hisoka’s dick slighty twitched in his pants. He was already pussywhipped.

He needed you.

He looked at me seductively, eyes low. I bit on my bottom lip; a one night stand wouldn’t hurt. It’s been so long, although you were so intoxicated you had no idea how this would go, nonetheless feeling much more bold.

Hisoka was right, you were hot. Your body throbbing, everything was definitely more sensitive, tingling almost.

Hisoka was restless, he knew that he was going to make you his little plaything.

He couldn’t help it; standing, he taps on your shoulder and ushers you up, grabbing your elbow and slightly dragging you down the darkened hallway, it made you dizzy, your eyes spiraling and colors accentuated and it made you see new weird versions of colors, ‘is this real?’

He opens a door and flicks on the light, your eyes needing to adjust to the weird vibrating walls.

You weren’t able to talk much, everything sounded foreign when it left your lips, like a jumble of noises so you held back talking. He shuts the door quickly and walking back towards you, towering over your body. Your heals slip off your feet when Hisoka is pushing you onto the bed, your legs slightly falling open and you stare at him through your lashes, looking like a whore.

He leans over you, his knees pressed on either side of your own, pinning your wrists back above your head, you bite down onto your tongue. Leaning into you, he dives into your neck, bitting and gnawing at the bit. You breathe out a slight whimper; almost undetectable.

Senses heightened, you felt like you could taste him already. He nibbles and licks down the v line of your dress, he radiated a hot and intense vibe, you were stunned. You were also beyond horny.

Hisoka moves his knee up to your cunt, you gasp when he applies the littlest pressure. He pulls up and looks at you.

“I can feel your heartbeat on my knee.” He states, I blush and look away.

“That’s because I’m horny.” I admit, he smirks and uses one of his hands to tuck hair back.

“Are you now... what can we do about that?” He purrs, mouth pressed against your ear and you shivered. Tugging slightly against his grip, he releases you, your hands land on his chest, trailing down and unbuttoning the single button on his black blazer.

“No Hisoka, what are you going to do about that?” You send him a smug look and push him off you slightly, you felt confident so why not have a little more fun than usual.

“My my, are you insinuating you’re going to use me?”the undertone of sarcasm made you laugh, you push up onto your knees and he falls on his back.

“Mhm, I’m going to fuck you until all your kids are dumped into me.” Lifting up your dress slightly so you could straddle his waist, he stares at you with his tongue being pinched by his teeth.

You roll your hips as you tug apart the strings that kept your dress closed, watching him as you smirked, he picked up quickly what you were doing and bunched up your dress from your legs, slowly taking it off and over your body, throwing it to the side, he sits up; and since his legs still hung off the bad, this was easier for him to sit comfortably and as close to you as possible.

His hands tickle down your sides, ending up at your lower back as he pulls you into his grasp tightly, grinding against his dick in the process. You lean back slightly, pushing the blazer off of him and he shimmies it off, you start unbuttoning this shirt and his hands caress your butt, following your tailbone and gripping.

You push off his shirt and he was breathtaking. His toughly toned chest, hard as a rock. Abs galore, his shoulders broad and his biceps huge.

“Let me know when you’re done staring.” You roll your eyes and let him toss the shirt on the floor.

You were definitely disoriented, but aware enough to consent but you were 100% felt empty headed besides the fact you could smell colors. Neither was Hisoka, he looked at you while he sworn you were moving so much more slow, you weren’t; but he thought you were teasing him.

He moves his hands to explore your body, feeling your soft and warm skin. His hands knead your boobs, like it was something he’s never felt before.

You push yourself off of him, “stand up and get on the bed fully.” You demand, he stands, but before he can plop back down, you unclasp the button on his slacks, hesends you a smug glance, looking down at your small hands compared to his wide waist, he was going to absolutely fucking obliterate you and you had no idea.

“You won’t be in charge for long my love, but I suppose I’ll let you have your fun.” Hisoka whispers, you could’ve fallen apart right there, but you held it together for the sake of the challenge he bestowed upon you.

He tugs his slacks off and you watch him with puppy eyes, the air coming from his nose hitched, you didn’t even bother to look at how hard he was, while he stares down at you, your hand climbs the back of his neck, standing on your toes more to kiss him.

Once you guys find yourself deep in a messy make out session, he taps your ass so he can pick you up. You jump a little and wrap your legs around his hard waist, feeling so high up you didn’t even know if he was really this tall or if it could be being literally high off molly altered your state.

He drops down onto the bed, you gasp when his clothed dick slides across your clothed cunt, it sat against your stomach as you looked down and your eyes widen, looking at how... how fucking big he was.

He scooches back so his head upper body is against the headboard.

“You seem intimidated, are you scared I’ll break you?” The smug look on his face made you laugh.

“Nope.” You were lying right through your fucking teeth. You were terrified; his cock was fucking huge.

You roll circles against his throbbing cock as you both took turns sucking and biting on each others necks, he left strong hickies and bite marks all over your chest.

He was so close to coming which was extremely unlike him, he could last for so long and was pissed that the drugs were bringing him so close to the edge.

“I’m giving you a few more minutes before I’m taking control.” He hums, you allow him to take control prematurely.

“Take control of me now Hisoka.” You purr in his ear, he takes action, swiftly pushing you up and slipping your panties down your thighs and shoving you on your back so your head was on the pillows.

He rips your panties off, you kick them off your ankle and his hand trails up your abused chest, hand gripping your neck. You were seeing fucking stars, literally? You didn’t know you were so high; but you did notice the peak was slowly ending.

You stick your hand down and it falls into the waistband of his boxers, he grabs your wrist and throws it back at you. “Don’t touch me.” He snarled, knowing it sounded rude, this was only because he was so close to nutting that if she even do much as stroked him he’d bust.

He tugs at his boxers and while your swollen lips and sliding his tongue in your mouth, you feel his sly hand rubbing your thigh and opening it, his hand grabs the headboard and the other one is holding your thigh open widely.

“You gonna let me put it in?” You whisper a little sassy, he looks at you with mean- intense eyes.

“My love, you won’t be able to as much move when I’m done with you, keep the attitude to a minimum.” He growls, your leg wrapping around his back and as he pins your thigh down, Hisoka knowing you were about to attempt to slam your legs closed.

He slowly slides into your dripping pussy. All he could think about was being enveloped in your hot walls. Savoring the feeling, he had enough self control to slowly enter into you. Your eyebrows furrowing and your mouth falling open, you watch him slowly fill you up.

You couldn’t even think of words, or noises for that matter, your brain drowning in loud red colors and your eyes were only looking at him, you didn’t even know what the room around you looked like. You were spinning, your body felt like it was trembling and twitching. He gives a tiny thrust to finish filling you up and your legs jolt, attempting to squeeze shut when he hits your cervix. It hurt so bad, you wince and your eyes screw shut.

He on the other hand was captivated by your beautiful body and scent, he couldn’t wait to watch you fall apart and drip cum all over him.

Hisoka pulls back, the pain making things feel a little more real; you look into his eyes, his golden eyes, pupils dilated from the drug- as he swears he can feel every nerve in your twitching cunt. Lowly, he lets out a little chuckle before yanking your leg up further and he picks up the pace, it was so sensual. You never made love but if it was anything like this and you didn’t even know the man? This was a culture shock.

You glance up at his bicep, trailing up towards the headboard, his hand clenches tighter on the headboard, you see him begin to white-knuckle the wood and your eyes widen, glancing at him. Seconds later, he has your face twisting into immense pleasure when the pace picks up, he releases your thigh from his grasp and grabs your throat, leaning in and licking slowly down your jawline, the pounding of his cock into your pussy feeling euphoric, your head spun, lacking oxygen, still high, you can tell he had finished his peak, his thrusts becoming more stable.

The snapping of Hisoka’s hips, you were finally able to get the clogged up moans that begged to come out. Finally, when he heard your moan, he began sweating. His hair becoming a little slick, falling down to his shoulders.

“O-h my god.” You groan, your stomach tightening, you wrap your arm around his neck and his flexed arm hold him up neck to your head.

“You want me to fuck you harder pretty girl?” Hisoka grunts, you let out a whine, fingers intertwining into the hair at his scalp.

“Yes please.” You mewl; this is was his moment to really get down to business, he pushes off the rattling headboard. He swiftly gets off of you, but roughly shoving you by your shoulder onto your hands and knees, he rips your arms from underneath you, causing you to fall harshly into the bed; holding them tight while he reaches off the side of the bed and picks up his tie.

His dick sitting pretty between your ass cheeks- hard as a rock, he ties you up. You bite down on your bottom lip, almost sad you couldn’t rub your hands all over him and touch him.

“God, your pussy is so pretty.” He mumbles, pulling your cheeks opposite from each other so he can get the view of the pretty cunt he was about to tear up. He spits onto your already dripping pussy before quickly picking up where he left off, the difference being he didn’t hesitate to pound hard into your cervix. You let out a screech and attempt to move away but he grounds your hips and gives you strong thrusts, not holding back, Hisoka disregarding your little screams from the pain.

“Does that hurt? You’re so fucking tight; no wonder it hurts so bad.” He grits, angrily fucking me. You become more and more vocal, screaming into the mattress. You pleaded for him to untie you.

“Y-you’re fucking ruthless H-Hisoka,” you moan between thrusts, he chuckles.

Hisoka was so close to coming, it took him more willpower then he’d like to admit. He brings his hand up and slams it down onto your ass. The slap ringing through the room.

You let out a throaty groan, tears soaking the bedsheet from your eyes. You had gotten used to the pain, but he filled every crevice in your pussy, you could feel absolutely everything, from his veins to his cock twitching.

You’re so close to releasing, his name falling out of your mouth incoherently and swears following the screams. Hisoka groaned and held down your arch so he could drill into you. You screamed, for mercy? His dick nor himself cared how bad far he was reaching. He brings his hand down again into a hard slap, you cry out and moan. He loved it, encouraging him to go faster. “My god, princess, you enjoy me hurting you with my cock and my hand? What else can I do to you?” You whine and you feel your juices drip down your thigh, you can came and didn’t even know it. Hisoka pulls out and listens to you moan, groan and cry while your legs shake and smirks.

“Untie me please, Hisoka I need to touch you.” You whine, he rubs your ass.

“Hmm well, I could, but I won’t.” He yanks you up by the hair and hair hand runs down your throat, your throat was dry, makeup running down your flustered face. He could come just looking at your face. He never felt that way before, it had to be the heightened senses from the drugs.

He sits against the headboard once again and without untying you he pulls you by your thighs and slowly pushes you down onto his cock. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, hissing when he grabs you by the hips and shoved himself into you.

He stares at your pretty lace bra and disheveled face as he bounces you up and down, your mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, practically going cross eyes he was reaching so deep into you. “Y-you’re so big.” You whine, unable to look into his eyes because you could barely keep them open.

“You’re taking my cock so well.” His chest riding and falling, it wasn’t as fast as he liked but he knew he was filling you up as much as he could, fitting his cock into your pussy as he pleased.

He flexed his back, lifting you still and snapping his hips into you. You practically collapse, hair sticking to your forehead and drool coming from your mouth. You scream and your legs begin to quiver.

“A-Ah! I need to pee” You wail as you feel another orgasm wash over your body, he doesn’t slow down but he remains at the same speed, only making the orgasm stronger, he moves a hand and rubs your bud in a pressurized circular motion. A mixture of piss and cum gushes out of your beaten pussy and you have no control of your body, falling forward onto his shoulder and he catches you.

The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, not stopping you even whilst releasing. He was so thrilled seeing you squirt all over him. Smirking slyly.

“Do you want me to fill you with my seed pretty girl? Have my kids pour out of that tight little pussy?” He grits, moving you back down onto your back and pulling up your numb legs. He needed to come in you now. Drilling into you like no tomorrow. You begged for him to untie you again and again.

He didn’t listen, brutally fucking you. Fucking you so hard your walls clenched so hard he could barely reach as deep. He was so close, Hisoka panting as he begins feeling dizzy, his dick twitched before abruptly stopping, slowly thrusting after a moment, hitched breathing and sweat dripping into your crunched up stomach.

Coincidentally, the slow thrusts made you orgasm again, convulsing and your muscles twitching as you both chased one of the strongest climax you’ve each had. Sniffling and trying to stop the tears, your ass and pussy still twitching as he pulled out of you, he stared sensually at your cunt, watching his own seed spill out of you.

After a few moments, he stops himself from falling in love with your cunt that he just stretched out to fit his desire. He lifted you up by the tied arm and slipped his tie off your wrists, setting you free.

Before you’re able to do anything, he runs his fingers up your slit slowly and carefully, picking up both of your cum, he lifts his hand and grabs your jaw, you instantly open your mouth and stick your tongue out, he sticks his two fingers down your throat and you suck on them, swallowing some of his seed. “Good girl, I didn’t even have to tell you.”

You wipe under your eyes and he smirks.

“We could stay here for the night, or we can go back to my place?” He hums in question. You just drop your back onto the bed. Trying to compose yourself.

“Yeah.” You sigh, panting slightly, he hands you his shirt and you slip it on and button it up.

This was the first time you were now looking around to see where you were, the high slowly reaching an end. You wondered what time it was, hoping to find a clock. Hisoka looks at his phone, ‘1:30am’ it read. He and you had both taken the drug at 9.

He slips on his pants and opens the foreign closet, he didn’t know what to find but when he saw a black t shirt he took it and slipped it on, it fit. He snoops through the closet and tries to find pants for you. He sees a pair of basketball shorts and tosses them towards you, you catch them and try to move as little as possible.

He sees you struggle to put them on and smiles, biting his tongue to prevent him from saying something arrogant. He was so fucking tickled that he fucked your legs into becoming numb and paralyzed.

He steps over at you and crouches down, he grabs the waistband and slips them over your legs. He should’ve warned you his dick would hurt you so bad, but he was so high he didn’t even think to mention it. Hisoka takes your hand and gently leads you to your feet. You feel like your organs had been shifted and you felt empty and cold.

As you and him quietly make your way through the house, people still resides there and the music was as loud as when you first arrived, no one really paid you any mind; which surprised you because your hair was a rats nest and you looked homeless. Barefoot, you and him walk to his car, more like limped.

“I feel like I’ve been split in half.” You mumble as Hisoka helps you into the car, he chuckles. While shutting the door and quickly making his way to the drivers side, he slides in and instantly starts the car.

He begins to drive down the road and out of the gated neighborhood, he puts his hand on your trembling thigh, glancing over at your wrecked face.

“My love, just wait til’ you see what I have waiting for you when we get home.”

#hisoka smut #anime #hisoka #hxh x reader #hxh headcanons #Hisoka stan #lemon #water sports #I’m sorry I’m a Hisoka stan #hisoka x reader

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

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Silent treatment - Din Djarin & Javier Peña. || Preference #1.

Summary: Just a little preference/head cannon on a snipet with Din and Javier dealing with the silent treatment. Enjoy!

Warnings/Content: none but pettiness lol

Din Djarin

Din is more of the intervert type, he likes the quiet. The shift of light to dark, nothing is more relaxing then the stars that reflect off the 'T' of his visor in complete silence.

While you understand he likes it, you tend not to talk too much, which can be difficult but you find yourself falling into comfortable silence against the mandalorian's chest more than you like to admit.

Quietness was the normal between the clan often because of the excitement that came when they were off the ship, blasters, yelling, threatening was no existent.

The Razor Crest resembled a place of peace, a place where skins real skin can press against your own without worry, he can remove the helmet in the dark to kiss you, kiss promises against your skin, a safe haven.

It would take Din longer than he would like to admit to realize you're not speaking to him, it takes almost hours to realize something is wrong.

There were hints of it, your nose turning up when he entered the cockpit, the small huffs, you avoid his gaze a presence at all times. You would even speak the child with the sweet voice but the moment he walks into the room you're silent.

Finally he's had enough, leaning against the door frame of the cockpit, you in the co-pilot seat with the child, the child holding the ball to show you for the millionth time his favorite toy. You smile sweetly at him, fingers pressing against his ears, rubbing the petals with a coo. The other hand holds out a small chunk of fruit, "Take one bite for me."

The child declines with a whine, making you huff. "C'mon buddy, you can play with the ball later." It's useless.

He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. He stands unsure, hands nervously shaking as he fears the worst. You want to leave. "Is....Is something wrong?"

There's no answer, like he hasn't even said anything just the small gaze that meets him with a grimace. Again, the child distracts you instead. His heart pounds with anticipation as his chest falters.

This makes him frown, muscles straining as he grits his teeth nervously. "Hello?"

The thick tension that fills the air makes it almost impossible to breath for the pair, both are fearful, it's a new relationship, mistakes were still to be made. It pollutes the air with a sickly feeling.

Not only was the Mandalorian surprised, he was frustrated. You can see it in the way he tenses, fingers shake but not in the way his skin turned red under all the armour, that was for him to feel the heat run up his back and blush his neck.

He clearly didn't like the way you responded, long strides until he's between your legs. He stands tall, towering over your sitting figure. Intimidating with his large shoulders, the metal points of his helmet staring down at you. His fingers find your chin, gripping to finally feel your eyes but his words are gentle, pleading. "Tell me.. what is wrong?"

When you don't speak he does, "Cyar'ika, sweet girl if something is wrong you need to tell me."

"You're an idiot." He finds humor in the words, a chuckle tightening his chest.

"Care to elaborate? You say that a lot." Gloved fingers move up your jaw, fingers press against the soft spot in the back of your ear, apply just enough pressure to make it comforting.

"It's not funny. I'm mad at you." Your face was serious, lips pursing with a slight frown. This makes Din sigh, he kneels down until he's at your height still in-between your legs.

"I'm not laughing, I'm sorry. Tell me."

Your words make his heart pound, tears starting to stings eyes, the glossing over makes him worried. "You just jumped into the Krpt Dragon without a worry. You didn't think about me or the child. You don't care if you die.. but I do."

"I do care... You and the child are the only two people I care for." He disagrees, the cool basker pressing against your collarbone, leaning against your body. "I would do anything for you two."

"I know that... But you cannot be risking your life for people like this. I know you like to help but it's too much to loose." You pause, "I can't take it, the thought of loosing you."

The words make him pause. Throughout his life Din has heard a lot of things these words were yours and yours alone. They make him nervous, his breath hitches, he doesn't know how to feel. He's never had to think about this before.. he's was like but now he has a girl, a family waiting for him.

"I-Im sorry." It's uncharacteristic, they way he lifts his helmet just enough to press a soft kiss against your shoulder, another one to your neck before pressing against your lips for one final one, he words whispered against lips. "I never thought about it like that before, forgive me.. I don't want you to worry."

"Well I can't help it." You sniff, a lazy smile at his warmth but his helmet drops back down as you catch of glimpse of blushed lips.

"I'm sorry. I'm not alone anymore, I forget." His arms wrap around your waist pulling you as close as the child on your lap will allow, the basker clad chest should be uncomfortable, cold but it's the exact opposite, warm and safe. "Forgive me Cyare."

"I can never stay mad at you." The words are breathlessly murmured against the small patch of skin on his neck, the spot where you would often pull down in the collar of his tunic to feel his skin. "I love you Bear."

"I love you sweet girl."

Javier Peña

Javier Peña's life is anything but boring, it's filled with chaos, long nights, alcohol and woman of any kind. The woman is where the problem was, no matter how much you told him it bothered you, that it should be more than just sex, he made sure it didn't.

It was pure raging hot jealousy that seared inside your veins, it crept warmth up the nape of your neck, fist ball under the table of the bar. Murphy must have noticed how violently you are chewing on your bottom lip, eyeing the pair across the bar. "You alright?"

"Fine." You snap rather quickly, eyes growing wide in realization. "Sorry Murph, I'm fine."

His eyes show it all, head tilting with an unamused look. "You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not I'm just tired." And jealous, so, so jealous that Javier's lips press against the brunettes collar bones, flash of pink as his tongue rolls against her neck, pressing his weight against her.

You knew it was just sex, Javi made sure to let you know despite working together nothing would change, it was just sex , a stress reliever with someone who understood the faults of working for the DEA, the struggles that went with it. Except now it was more, it was those nights with next to each other naked in bed, the kisses, hugs, cute nicknames and the long talks of promises, potential future but now it seems you were never part of it.

He acted as if he were your boyfriend, he often made dinner for you, picking up a coffee before heading into the office for you every morning, he gave you gifts, his main reasoning being "It reminds me of you."

Javier was confusing, late at night after a long day he would confess his affection for you, even let it slip a few times that he loves you, swears you are his other half, his soulmate. Of course it's when he's drunk but you hold onto it being the truth he's afraid to admit.

Javier doesn't notice you leaving that night, he doesn't notice Murphy offering to walk you home, assure you get their safely despite it being right next to his own.

The next morning you decide to go into work a little earlier, hoping your sleepless night filled with tears would be worth it. At least it took your mind off it.

It was like clock work, Javier placing the large coffee cup in front of you on your desk, this time some kind of pastry is next to it, tucked in a wax bag and a kiss presses against your cheek. "Good morning Hermosa."

The silence is uncharacteristic, very seeing he literally has to beg you to shutup sometimes. His face twist into confusion as you pull away from his lips, but the mark still burns against your cheek. The same lips that you know for a fact were all over another woman's body last night.

"What's wrong?" He notices as Murphy shakes his head with a huff, clearly annoyed with his friends ignorance. Javi's eyes drift from his with shrugging shoulders to yours with a look of surprise. "What?"

"I'm going to bring these down to Lopez, meet you in a half an hour downstairs Murph." Your words make Javier's brows flur, why?

The coffee is left, along with the muffin. He sits down at his own desk, leaning over to grab it, he starts to pull it apart, pick at it with ever intent to eat it but suddenly doesn't feel hungry.

"What's her problem?"

"Really Javi? What's her problem?" The words make Javi's jaw clench, he doesn't much care for his friends tone as he speaks. "You're an idiot, you hurt her feelings."

"I didn't do anything! I even got her a muffin today, it's blueberry her favorite!" Javi feels nervous, in all the time he's known you this had never happened; intentionally ignoring him.

"you didn't do anything?" Murphy stands, Javier guesses it's to meet you. "You invited her out last night and then ignored her to fuck a girl in front of her."

"I didn't fuck her, all we did was kiss." Javi hisses back, rubbing over his face with a growl. "Besides we agreed it was just hooking up.'

"Well it doesn't seem to be for her anymore, you need to apologise. She was crying to whole way I walked her home."

"She.. She walked home?" The words sit deep in his gut, squeezing his chest with a soft sigh. No matter how much he tried to help it, all the alochol and woman could distract him from how he feels for you, even when he tries to hide it. His words faulter, "Why didn't you just tell me? I would have walked her home, when I came back you both were gone."

"She didn't want to speak with you, I made sure she got home safe. If it was any of your concern."

The words were sour, a dig that made Javier growl. Of course it was his concern, even thought he promised to never admit it, he cared for you in a way he never has for another person.

Sure he almost got married, had plenty of girlfriends but it wasn't like this. Nothing compared to the feeling of having you close at night, waking up next to you. Javier's fingers shakily reach for a cigarette, watching Murphy slip out of the main office with a huff.

As time went on, Javier couldn't get out of his own head, while they agreed that it was strictly just a way to relieve stress it was also a habit by now.

The nights spent back and forth at each other's houses, the particularly rough days were together, holding each other close.

When he found himself down you were always there, comforting him, making sure he eats telling him that alochol and cigarettes are not a meal, even going as far as making meals for him. Call him selfish, but he didn't want it to end.

The moment he heard that the next group was heading out over the intercom he was up, he knew Murphy and you were going to it, he be dammed if he would ever let you go anywhere near action without him.

You would be fine.. eventually. You give a small smile of reinsurance to Murphy as he slides into the car next to you, but both of your faces drop the moment Javi opens the door, clearing his throat with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Javi.. I thought you weren't on this one?" Murphy questions, rubbing over his face as your eyes narrow at Javier's which are already on you.

"Change of plans." It's gruff, sharp as his narrow back. "Want to tell me what's wrong sweetheart?"

He's only met with more silence, your arms wrapping across your chest as you lean into the seat, eyes roaming over the different shades of green head resting across the glass. It was going to be a long ride.

"Why are you acting like a brat?" It's a dig, he's trying to break this silence, the only way he can think of is to piss you off. "You're acting like a baby."

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the words turning your head to look at him, then to Steve who looks the other way, deciding now was the perfect time to mind his own business.

Javier obviously doesn't get what the silent treatment is, he shifts, leaning against the seat, spreading his legs to give you the perfect view of his legs, his thighs. There's a small smirk, cocky as his hands run across his inner thigh. "Come talk to me."

It's an invitation one that makes your blood boil, you can't help the words that fall past your lips. "Go ask that girl from the bar, you pig."

"Mmhmm." He mumbles, eyes flickering with that stupid knowing smirk. "You're mad about that mija? I thought we agreed it was no commitments besides I didn't fuck her."

The car comes to a holt, quick you and Steve tumbling towards the seats across where Javier sits, Murphy catches himself hand extending to the seat belt while you find yourself heading toward the window but fingertips softly grapsing your hips stop you, pulling you into a familiar chest.

Steve mumbles something about 'getting to work' and you two being 'ridiculous already' before opening the car door and shutting it.

You're about to follow him by pushing against Javier's chest but his grip never falters. "Relax." He mewls, lips pressing against your neck. "You know you're my girl, my Hermosa."

"I bet you said the same thing to her before you fucked her."

It's a sigh, breathlessly and exaggerated. "I told you I didn't fuck her. We only kissed."

"You could have kissed me." There was no use in struggling, but you managed to keep distance. Cold eyes on his own.

His hand presses against your chin, thumb on the sharpest angle trying to bring his lips to your own, his apology but you move your head to the side.

"I don't think we should do this anymore.." you eyes don't meet his, adverting as all cost. His jaw drops, resembling a fish out of water as it closes, opens to say something but closes against deep in thought as he hears his heart beat in his ears.

His heart stuttering at the words, chest heavy, crushing as he held in a breath. "N-No, I mean it. You're my girl, I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you."

The words sit on the tip of his tongue, his eyes shoot over to Murphy with a group of other officers talking tactics but suddenly he doesn't care about that anymore only the fact his own heart was breaking inside his chest.

"I can share you anymore. I can't do this to myself."

"I'm yours, I-I won't -." He can't seem to say the words, they choke up in his throat, eyes show his internal panic his heart against his mind, Javi didn't commit, this life style didn't allow it.

But when your fingers find the handle, trying to leave the close proximity of the car he knew he'd loose your forever. "I'll stop sleeping around, I'll stop all of it. Only me and you."

Eyes test him, even like this, large bags, no make up you looked beautiful. You're unsure letting out a deep breath, it wasn't looking good. "Please, I need you. You can't just go.."

"You get one chance Javi, one slip up and I'm not putting myself through this." He lets out a sigh of relief heart claiming down for the anticipation but before he could manage another word you open the door, stepping outside. "You coming Agent Peña? I believe you have a dinner to take me to later, since you're officially making me your girlfriend and all. I rather get this over with." Javi smiles, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes at your playfulness.

#din djarin fan fiction #the mandolorian imagine #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din dijarin x reader #the mandolorian x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #narcos imagine

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mygodyouredivine · 4 years ago

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The Hell In Your Eyes - 3

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 4836

Previous Chapter

Loki is annoyed.

Loki has sat through thousands of years of political dinners, exchanging thinly veiled insults under a layer of diplomacy, all while smiling through his teeth. Loki has spewed sensical nonsense, charming naive, innocent maids and sweeping young stable boys off their feet. Loki has endured Odin’s wrath — in all its horrible glory — countless times, and never once had he shed a tear, nor had a single cry escaped his lips.

The whole of Asgard had coined him the Dark Prince — and who was Loki to disappoint?

He had long since learned people saw what they expected to see.

And so as the entire realm rejoiced in his demise, as Laufey left him to die, as Odin condemned him for eternity, as Thor abandoned him, as Frigga had sided with her husband again and again and again, Loki maintained his carefully constructed front.

Yet one encounter with a mortal, and he had unraveled at her feet.

If physically kneeling before the wretched creature wasn’t enough, he knew she had seen past his mask. By the time he had regained his composure, he was sure she had seen him.

It won’t happen again.

Loki is a god, and gods do not crack. Gods maintain their image, regardless of circumstance. Gods do not show weakness, do not show vulnerability.

This is a lesson Loki knows well, a lesson etched into his skin countless times by Odin’s hand.

And yet for each time Odin reinforced this lesson, the very same lesson was burned away by Thanos a thousand more.

Loki tried, he truly did. Loki maintained his godly facade for an impressive amount of time, resisting as his body was taken apart over and over and over again. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as he thought. Loki feels as if his entire life was spent doused in agony, spent with his flesh melting off and his bones withering away.

Ultimately, a god is no match for a Titan.

But a mortal is no match for a god.

And yet, Loki has found himself at her feet — at her mercy — twice.

Even after, Loki couldn’t bring himself to summon his cruel exterior. Perhaps it had to do with the way she had waltzed into his space, all soft and defenseless, carrying that deplorable drink as if it was the elixir of eternal life (unfortunately, it tasted just as divine). Perhaps it was his body, still sated and full for the first time in months, reminding him of the food — the debt — he owes. Perhaps it was the way she held out her arm towards him, even though he could see it shaking.

Whether it was any of these things or none at all, Loki’s cool mask of indifference was rendered utterly useless at her delicate, mortal hands.

Loki hates her.

His hatred fills every fiber of his being. It’s a scalding, fiery hatred, much unlike the frozen excuse of Loki’s heart. His frost giant heritage seems to reject her very being.

Loki hates her voice, hates her hands, hates her. He hates how she makes him falter when there is no place for mistakes.

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by Thor, who enters Loki’s quarters without an ounce of hesitation — ever the righteous, confident, arrogant bastard.

Ah, but Loki almost forgot. Thor is not the bastard — Loki is. How despicable; for really, Loki can not even call himself a bastard. Yet, ‘the Bastard Son of Odin’ has a certain charm to it. Perhaps another false title for his collection.

“Loki!” Thor booms, “Here are your clothes that Lady Angel washed. You should be grateful brother, for she offered of her own volition — ”

Is it so surprising someone would offer to help Loki without external influence?

“ — to see and visit you! You are doing well. I am happy to see you are finally making an effort to get to know all of our friends — ”

Thor is happy? For Loki, or for himself? Why must Loki, even now, strive to prove himself to Thor? Why is Loki’s worth solely dependent on Thor’s judgement?

“ — and Lady Angel is absolutely wonderful. I am delighted to see you two getting along so well! I can’t believe you finally made a friend— ”

At this, Loki’s composure cracks for the second time that day.

“What am I? A pathetic child wandering aimlessly through a school corridor? A helpless hatchling at the mercy of others — groveling for the bare minimum? Who are you to congratulate me for ‘making a friend?’ She is not a friend ,” Loki spits out. He can feel his teeth grinding against each other, his fingernails once again digging into his palms. “She is nothing more than another worthless mortal, unworthy of even breathing the same air as I, and yet you suggest I be grateful?”

Thor advances on Loki, his eyes hardening. The atmosphere is tense; unlike the typical bickering between the brothers, Loki identifies something distinctly different in the way the air vibrates. The space between the two gods crackles. “Watch yourself brother —”

Brother. The word grates upon Loki’s nerves. How can Thor so carelessly throw the word around, even knowing of its false implications — implications and lies Loki foolishly believed.

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor does it on purpose.

“Do you hear yourself Thor? Bending yourself over backwards to defend this wasted excuse of consciousness — you are the King of Asgard. What is she? She is nothing.”

And now Loki is no longer staring at his brother, but the ceiling of his prison. His back is slammed against Stark’s hardwood floors and there is sharp ringing in his ears, likely the result of the crack in the floor right behind where his head is currently embedded.

Loki almost laughs.

Truly, it is comical — comical that even now, Thor’s first instinct is to physically threaten Loki. As if Loki doesn’t almost enjoy it.

But Loki’s laugh catches in his throat, prevented from escaping by the large hand tightening around his airway.

Thor’s hand is around Loki’s neck — a mirror of His.

A thousand years Loki has known Thor. A thousand years of childish brawls, foolhardy battles, pointless arguments. How many times has Loki betrayed Thor? Thor betrayed Loki? And yet, Loki believed he knew his brother’s character.

A thousand years Loki has known Thor, but never once has he thought Thor to be cruel.

Oh how wrong he is.

Thor’s hands are gripping Loki’s neck and for the life of him Loki can’t breathe. He tries to draw air into his lungs — lungs that are screaming with a familiar ache — and fails. Phantom pains flicker across his entire body and somehow, in the second before his vision goes black, Loki manages to croak out a strangled wheeze of a laugh.

Loki is once again strapped upon a bed of coals, once again stabbed with blades of flame, once again torched with fire so hot he freezes. Loki remembers the only other time he begged — begged and pleaded for the sweet mercy of death, all while knowing death was a pleasure he was never to be granted.

Loki is once again kneeling — boneless — at the feet of a Titan, looking up into a face promising endless pain, a face painted with the patience of a thousand moons and splattered with the ruined blood of a Frost Giant.

Loki did not know that a Frost Giant’s blood could boil.

Ah, but the Mad Titan knew, and he ensured Loki would never forget.

Loki recalls the moment he let go — an eerie echo of his fall from grace, his fall from the Bifrost. And he remembers the horribly invasive power of the scepter, along with the blessed relief and utter disregard for self preservation that followed.

And it is this — the relief — that plagues Loki. He does not fool himself; Loki may be the God of Lies, but he has no reason to lie to himself . It is not the destruction of New York nor the deaths at his hand that weigh upon his shattered mind. No, it is the fact that Loki found solace in his actions.

Make no mistake — Loki does not rejoice in his crime, but nor could he say he regrets it.

For if Loki were given the choice, he could not — would not — choose to spare Midgard at the cost of his own sanity.

(But Loki was never given a choice.)

Alas, Loki is already insane.

The Mad Titan has taken so much from Loki.

Physically, Loki has long since disregarded his own body. He remembers the beginning of his torture, when he still held the title of 'Prince of Asgard,' when he spoke with arrogance and oozed of indignantion. Oh how naive he had been. When the first whips had landed across his skin, Loki's thoughts could never have anticipated what the coming months would entail. Loki did not once stop to consider how he would escape the clutches of his captor — oh the confidence he held! — but instead lamented the scars he would surely have to bear. Dimly, Loki recalls worrying over his marred skin, irritated at the blemishes he would surely have to cover when taking future lovers.

Loki scoffs.

Loki does not recognize the man who spent time thinking of lovers. Or of his physical appearance. Or of his interests. Or of any other insignificant pleasure that ultimately contributes to the annihilation of a soul.

(Even now, Loki carries with him an irrational fear of physical touch — a seed planted by the Mad Titan that Loki cannot gouge out, not even if he tore open his very being.)

In fact, Loki wondered if his corporeal form had even existed anymore. But most of all, more than the ruination of his physical form, Loki mourns the damnation of his mind.

Ultimately, the Mad Titan did triumph over Loki. For no matter how many times Loki escapes, fakes his death, runs away, he can never evade the visions that haunt his mind, the voices that infect his thoughts, the termites eating away at what remains of Loki’s sanity.

(If Loki were given a choice, he would have chosen death again and again and again.)

Alas, Loki was not — is not — given a choice, for suddenly he is not lying on a bed of coals, but on his apartment floor again. Thor has since removed his hand from Loki’s neck and Loki half wishes Thor just kept it there. Just kept on squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Loki died on that bed of coals.

Loki wonders, if he were to die at Thor’s hand, would his brother feel remorse? Or perhaps, more realistically, relief?

Unfortunately, Loki is not dead, and Thor is gazing at him, concern evident in his gaze. As if Thor wasn’t the one who put Loki in this condition — wasn’t the one who greedily snatched all of Odin’s affection, wasn’t the one who pushed Loki out of favor, wasn’t the one who led his brainless minions in a brash suicide mission, as if Thor wasn’t the one who stared Loki in the eye as Loki let go into the abyss.

As if Thor wasn’t the first domino in a long ripple effect that eventually drowned Loki in his sins.

Thor was the smooth pebble that young children skipped over lakes, just barely skimming the surface of a tempting downfall — nevertheless gracefully leaping unscathed across the reflective waters. Yet Loki was the jagged, unskippable rock, destined to fall through the air and fall through the water with no hesitation. Loki has long since come to terms with this simple fact.

No longer does Loki resent his brother, for he understands: light can only shine in the presence of darkness. And if Loki is condemned to darkness — so be it.

Loki does not resent his brother, but oftentimes Loki despises his lightness . What some might say is endearing — the inability for Thor to give up — is just a burden. Even now, Thor still thinks he can change Loki, can fix him. Thor still thinks that by vouching for Loki and providing Loki a place to live and surrounding Loki with Thor’s friends that he can mend Loki’s broken soul and bring back the brother he once had. Thor is still in denial — he refuses to grasp the very simple concept that Thor’s brother — the Second Prince of Asgard, God of Lighthearted Mischief — is long dead. And so Thor continues to try. But light yelling into the darkness does not change it.

And even now, with Thor looming above Loki, Loki does not resent his brother.

But Loki resents Thor’s very being — the core of who Thor is. Thor is a duality; one of naivety and compassion, yet tainted — or perhaps embellished — with a smidge of cruelty and arrogance.

And as Thor is speaking to Loki, mouth forming words Loki is too tired to hear, Loki simply lies on the floor, limbs relaxed around him, throat sore, and does the only thing he can do when feeling so utterly empty.

Loki laughs.

______________________________

Midgard is rather charming in some regards.

Loki will eventually have to investigate the laundry process, for he has just now made the curious discovery that freshly dried clothes are warm . He suspects they were warmer right after they were dried, but he can still feel the presence of the heat, lingering within the very fabric of his garments. He wonders just how much they were heated up to — would it have burnt his frozen hands at the peak of its fiery glory?

No, Loki’s hands are too well accustomed to fire now.

But he doubts that her hands are. He envisions Angel pulling his clothes out of the dryer, her hands touching the same clothes that he has worn, that he will wear, that he is currently touching.

Yet is it entirely possible Loki is standing around, imagining a scene that never played out, for it was not Angel who brought Loki’s laundry back to him, but his dearest brother. Looking at his pile of clothes again, Loki takes in the telltale signs of Thor. The messily folded shirts stare back at Loki, mocking him.

He wonders if she ever even did any part of his laundry. Perhaps she only offered it as a way to ease the uncomfortable tension that had arisen earlier. Or rather, (and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought) she lugged his laundry basket downstairs and dumped it straight into Thor’s arms.

Why else would she refuse his help to accompany her?

A twinge of something rises up within Loki as he realizes she accepted Thor’s offer to bring his clothes back. Or, much more likely, she had pushed the task onto Thor in a desperate attempt to avoid encountering him again.

Not that Loki could blame her.

And yet the uncomfortable sensation within Loki only grows, and he realizes that he feels something akin to disappointment. Loki cannot allow himself to feel disappointment. He had long since learned not to expect anything from anyone — or perhaps, much more cynically, to only depend on — to trust — himself.

Trust, Loki knows, is a fickle concept the naive embrace. Trust itself is ill fated, the certainty of an inevitable betrayal the same as the certainty that one day everyone living on this cursed realm will perish.

Loki hates Angel. He hates how she pretends to care for him, hates how she imitates Thor, hates how she always finds a way to break him, and Loki hates how Angel makes him feel.

Loki's silent anger boils inside of him — like the steady countdown of a ticking bomb — manifesting itself out of him as the laundry basket is violently launched across the room.

He hates how he feels absolutely no satisfaction at the way the freshly clean clothes scatter across the floor, hates how he lost control, and hates how the damned mortal forces him to feel emotions he does not want to feel .

Sometimes all Loki can do is hate.

______________________________

The heat from the clothes have long since seeped into the floor.

The sun is just now setting, dousing Loki’s room in a fiery glow. Warm light spills across Loki’s bookshelves, his impeccably made bed, the clothes strewn around his floor. Loki sits on the ground, bare of his illusions, allowing himself to just be .

Staring across the room, he notices tendrils of light carefully curling around the air, miniscule particles of dust dancing in the golden glow. This is a gold Loki enjoys. Unlike the brash, loud character of Thor’s gold — of Asgard’s gold, this is a much softer, gentle color. The comforting hue reminds Loki of his mother, and against his will, he feels a wall of despair beginning to build within his chest.

For a second, Loki loses himself as the wall crashes over him. He drops his head, allowing his hair to dangle in front of his face, obscuring his view of the floating particles. He feels like a child — wants nothing more in this moment than to run to Frigga, for her floral scent to fill his senses as she envelopes him in her arms. What Loki wouldn’t give to have Frigga’s delicate fingers comb through his hair just once more, for her soft lips against his forehead, murmuring words of comfort.

But he can’t have that. Instead, here he is, sitting on the floor of a glorified prison in the midst of a community of people who hate him, with nothing but Thor to act as his buffer.

Looking up, Loki gazes at the honeyed light as it glides over a particular heap of clothing. He watches, mesmerized, as the light gently moves, unhurriedly bathing each corner of the fabric in its rich glow.

If he were still on Asgard, Loki would most likely have been reading, thoroughly immersed in some story or another. The sun would have showered his pages in its quiet glow, lighting the words aflame. He would have taken a stroll in his mother’s gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of her flowers as he sat in his favorite hidden alcove. He would have taken out his book and continued to read, read until the golden hue of the sun was replaced by the tender shine of the moon. Only then would Loki return, serenely walking back to his chambers, stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, and resume his reading on his balcony.

Loki wants that.

Loki wants an afternoon to himself, with no worries plaguing his mind.

Loki wants to be able to read, and to do so in an environment which permits him to let his guard down.

Loki wants to sit outside, surrounded by flowers, and watch as the sun transitions into the moon.

Loki wants to indulge in a hot cup of tea as he watches the moonlight spills across the pages of his book.

Loki wants so many things — and he can’t have any of them.

Standing up, Loki decides he has spent enough time reminiscing over what he cannot have today. He feels sticky and hot and cold and hungry and all he wants right now , is a long shower.

And so Loki walks over to the same pile of clothes, now dull and abandoned by the sun, gazing disapprovingly downwards. Thor is truly an imbecile, for he has not even managed to separate their clothes correctly. Loki is currently staring at a dark green sweatshirt, one he knows for a fact he has never seen before. Tiredly, he tosses it upon his bed and scoops up a clean change of clothes, then turns around and trodds slowly into the bathroom.

______________________________

Water droplets rain all around Loki, swiftly sliding down his body.

He doesn’t particularly enjoy showering — it reminds him too much of another substance: denser, stickier, and much more red, trickling down his skin. Loki much prefers baths. Baths, however, render their subject very much vulnerable, and Loki does not fancy risking any more vulnerability than strictly necessary.

So Loki is standing in the shower, unabashedly soaking up the shallow warmth the water provides. Surely if Thor could see him, his brother would lecture Loki on wasting Midgard’s precious resources. But, Loki reasons, if Stark truly possesses the excess of wealth he boasts of, Loki’s water usage will not be of much concern to the man. And so this is a luxury Loki will grant himself.

The shower is one place where Loki feels the safest, where he allows his thoughts to wander and drift into otherwise forbidden territories. Today especially has been challenging, and even his muscles seem to ache, the fibers pulling away from each other, trying to rip Loki apart from the inside out. His mind is exhausted, filled with swirling thoughts of Frigga and Angel and Thor, with the occasional Odin and Titan intruding whenever a particular body part cries out.

And as Loki gazes down at his body, the disfigured canvas of scars stare back at him and he attempts to soothe away the countless aches. No matter how much time has passed and how much magic Loki pours into himself, the pains never seem to retreat. Rationally, Loki knows it doesn’t make sense. He knows his magic is fully capable of healing himself, knows that by all accounts he is healed.

But Loki also knows he does not imagine the sharp pains coursing through his veins.

He is fighting himself — the part of himself that does not want the pain to stop. Because all Loki knows is pain, and he fears the absence of pain almost as much as he dreads its glorious presence.

Loki raises his head, allowing for the stream of water to bruise his face. And if Loki’s closed eyes leak the occasional tear, no one would know.

______________________________

Loki’s self destructive spiraling is abruptly cut short by three succinct knocks from his bedroom door. Still soaking in the shower, Loki debates whether or not to answer; after all, he truly has no desire to see his brother again today. Or preferably, ever again. Unfortunately, Loki is all too aware that if he does not answer the door to let Thor in, Thor will simply let himself in. And if there’s anything worse than seeing Thor, it will be seeing a displeased Thor while Loki stands nude and wet.

Reluctantly, Loki turns off his shower, changes into his freshly washed ‘sweatpants’, and leisurely walks towards the door. He is honestly surprised Thor hasn’t invited himself in yet. He is more surprised when he finally opens the door and is promptly met with — not Thor’s brutish face, but the goddamned mortal.

She stands there, in front of his door, barely out of arm's reach. Loki can’t help but drink her in. He notices her hair, laying loosely around her face, framing her profile. She’s sporting a sweater, much too warm for the present weather. Its collar is stretched out over years of use, teasing his eyes with a fraction of her collarbones peaking through. Her legs are barely covered by absurdly short shorts, and Loki feels the back of his ears heating up. Hurriedly, he averts his eyes, falling down to her feet, once again hugged by soft looking socks — mismatched.

His scrutinization is interrupted by her voice; so soft.

“Hey! Sorry if I interrupted you. I heard you were in the shower but I was going around taking everyone’s dinner orders. We’re getting Chinese.” She tilts her head to the side, lifting her chin ever-so-slightly, distractedly exposing the tantalizing skin of her neck. She swallows, and Loki’s eyes discreetly follow the bob of her throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted anything?”

It takes a moment for Loki to register her question and another for him to process it. She is going to order dinner? For him? And she is asking him for his preference? Loki has not had the privilege of preferring anything in a long, long time. Damn this mortal.

“I am not familiar with this particular cuisine, nor Midgard’s in particular.”

She meets his eyes then, and only after does it occur to him that her eyes had been previously glued to his abdomen. His abdomen, he realizes which has been bare this entire interaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He forces himself to roll his eyes, running a hand through his still dripping hair to hide the scarlet his ears have surely become. “I am saying that I do not have a preference, woman.”

She lifts her shoulders briefly in a gesture Loki has come to associate with Midgard’s daftness and promptly moves closer to him. Instinctively, Loki takes a step back, then curses himself for doing so. He truly must be losing it, backing away from a defenseless mortal. But she doesn’t push further, instead tilting her head at that angle again, asking him another question.

“Can I come in?”

Loki hesitates. He doesn’t understand her motives, doesn’t know if this is a trick the Avengers have set up or perhaps a test designed by his brother. All he knows is that Angel is staring at him with her eyes wide and innocent and completely devoid of deceit.

Angel must carry magic or Loki must be possessed by the Mind Stone again, for against his will, Loki steps to the side, allowing her to brush past him. The sleeve of her sweater comes into contact with Loki’s stomach, and he jerks away.

Awkwardly, Loki closes his door and turns to face the mortal, noting how hilariously out of place she looks, standing in the midst of Loki’s domain. With a wave of his hand, the previously scattered articles of clothing fly onto his bed, meticulously folding themselves. Angel’s surprised, quiet gasp does not escape his notice. She walks towards his bed, small hand landing on Thor’s sweatshirt.

“Take that when you leave.” Loki internally bristles at his own tone, noticing how Angel’s shoulders locked up when he spoke and did not relax when he stopped. “Please,” he adds.

To his surprise (again), Angel approaches him, sweater in hand. “Why?”

At this, Loki is caught off guard. Without warning, he is overwhelmed by distaste. His patience has been tested over and over again, and he does not have even a drop more to deal with this mortal’s incompetence. His hatred for her rushes back, multiplied a thousandfold. Who does she think she is and why will she not leave Loki alone? Why must she cut short his relaxation, intrude upon his personal space, inquire after him when he knows — he knows — she does so unwillingly? Why is she holding up Thor’s goddamned sweater, pretending not to know why Loki hates it so? As if she doesn’t know it belongs to Thor.

In fact, Loki is positive she is intimately aware of whom it belongs to, undoubtedly so. He hates Angel, hates her for reluctantly offering her help, hates her for her smoothies, hates her for asking him about his preferences. Briefly, he envisions snapping her neck. Effortlessly. But the image makes him recoil, bringing about not satisfaction, but horror.

His fists clench, his broken fingernails once again digging into bruised skin. It costs Loki an immeasurable amount of self control not to simply throw her out, hurl her from his quarters. Instead, he snaps at her.

“Girl, do not test my patience. I am warning you, it has been a very long day and if you do not exit extremely promptly, it will not end well for one of us.”

Loki hates the way her shoulders tense up again, hates the way she physically flinches away at his dismissal.

Loki hates how though he can sense her increasing heartbeat, her nervousness, Angel still looks him in the eye and informs him, in a terrified voice coated with forced calm, “I’m sorry to hear that Loki. I added this sweater into your laundry after it was done, but I should have known it would not have been welcome.”

Loki hates how she then drops her eyes, staring intently at her mismatched socks.

“I’ll just leave your dinner outside.”

Loki hates how she leaves, her hands gripping Thor’s — his — sweatshirt tightly, footsteps moving at a much brisker pace.

Loki hates how Angel closed off, how he closed her off.

Loki hates how Angel clearly did do his laundry.

Loki hates how Angel thought of him, giving him an extra sweatshirt, offering him a choice for dinner.

Loki hates Angel more than he hates Thor, more than he hates Odin.

Loki hates Angel more than he hates the Mad Titan.

The only person Loki hates more than Angel is himself.

Fuck.

______________________________

We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.

- Charles Bukowski

______________________________

Previous Chapter

Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

#Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #the hell in your eyes #thiye #loki x you #friends to enemies to lovers #reader insert #loki fic #jouce writes

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nerdflash · 4 years ago

Text

Lights, Camera Action

A/N: Here’s the second part of the Lights, Camera, Action series. You can find Part One here

Synopsis: Tom Holland x Fem! Reader. You’ve started developing feelings for Tom on the set of his new film. On a day off, you receive a message, that makes you question if he is flirting with you.

Word Count: 1.6k

Mentions: Alcohol and alcohol use, lousy ex boyfriends, men being players and social media.

PART TWO - Mixed Messages

You’re not sure what time it is when your room mate wakes you up leaving the apartment, but you mutter a curse word and reach for your phone to check the time. Even though it’s 10am you’re still feeling wiped out after getting home around 4am but you know you won’t be able to get back to sleep now you’ve looked at your phone. Vanessa has sent you a message, you click on it and smile.

“He asked me out on a third date! He asked ME!! Fancy going for a few drinks later and I can fill you in on all the details?”

“Sure, I have an apartment viewing at 2pm but free after that. Let me know where, I don’t want to show up looking casual, if you’re in one of your dressing up moods! ;)”

A few seconds later your phone pings with a reply.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?! Fine, let’s meet at The Varnish around 7pm. Dress code smart casual!”

“See you later! I can’t wait to hear about your date! <3”

You roll on to your side and reach down to plug your phone charger in. Time for a social media binge before you get out of bed. You scroll through Facebook and reply to a couple of messages to friends back home. This would be the longest amount of time you’d spent away from home, but when you’d been offered the job to coordinate on a feature film, you couldn’t turn it down. You’d had to say goodbye to everyone you loved, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see them for around 8 months, but Vanessa had become a firm friend fast. She was also proving to be a great mentor and had helped you learn so much more.

You click on instagram and are scrolling through, when you see that Tom has uploaded a photo. He’s sat reading through a script and the caption reads “Can’t wait for you guys to see what I’m working on. I hope you like it.”

You smile as you scroll through the comments and see nothing but support and excitement for Tom from his fans. Quite a fair number declaring their love and apparent attraction to him. You lick your lips and decide to leave a comment. You’re fairly sure he gets that many notifications and comments, he probably won’t even notice it, right? Besides, he doesn’t even know you have instagram.

“They’re going to love it, because you’re much better than you give yourself credit for Mr Holland.” You hit send and decide to face the day, but first coffee. You switch on your Spotify playlist and head into the kitchen, thankful that you don’t have to make small talk with your horrible room mate and her horrible “boyfriend” Soon the kitchen smells of freshly brewed coffee and you’re feeling excited about a bit of a girls night tonight. Your phone pings with a notification.

You click on the screen and are taken to the Instagram app, you feel your palms break out in a sweat when you see that Tom has started following you. You click on the inbox and see a message from Tom. Letting out a little yelp of surprise, you throw your phone on the side as though it’s burnt you.

You pace back and forth for a moment before reaching for the phone and taking a deep breath. You open the message.

“You don’t have to call me Mr Holland on your day off! ;)”

In spite of the nerves running through you, you can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t have to call you Mr Holland at all…” You hit send and bite your lower lip as you see that Tom is typing something back.

“True...But I kind of like it when you do… Anyway, I should let you get back to sleep right? :P”

Something warm travels deep within you and you realize that you have crossed a line now, where you no longer see Tom as a friend and a work colleague, but someone who you want to spend time with, someone you want to learn more about and give him reasons to smile and be happy. You want to reply with every cell of your being, but you decide you’ll talk to Vanessa first. She’d noticed that you and Tom spent alot of time talking between takes weeks ago, when she’d asked you about it she’d known by the colour of your cheeks that you had developed a crush on Tom.

Whilst she technically shouldn’t encourage anything, in order to maintain a professional environment on set, she also said that the two of you looked good together and if anything was to happen, then there were some legalities with HR that would need to be sorted but it wasn’t against the law, you wouldn’t lose your job and that she would like ALL the details if anything happened.

You shoot her a quick text.

“Can we meet a bit earlier? Say around 4pm? I need some advice!”

“Of course, are you ok?”

You smile at her concern and reply

“I need to talk about Tom and get your thoughts on a message he sent me!”

“I’ll be there...I want to know everything!”

You smile over at Vanessa and pick up your glass.

“Cheers to you and your very successful second date. It sounds like he really likes you Vanessa.” The woman sat opposite you smiles and takes a sip of her drink, a shy smile on her face. Vanessa was so confident at work and amazing at her job, but for some reason, she’d seemed to have dated a lot of losers and in turn, it had made her not be as confident in herself. But she was beautiful, smart and successful, and honestly, this guy did seem really nice.

“You think so?” You nod your head and put your hand on her arm.

“Of course, I mean he kissed you and asked you on a third date, which involves cooking for you. Please. He’s smitten!” Vanessa smiles at you and clinks her glass against yours before taking a sip and sitting back in her seat.

“So...Tell me about this message from Tom.” You fill Vanessa in on a bit of the backstory about how he’d told you he doubted his talent and the name you use to tease him with. You show her his message and watch as she reads.

“He is totally flirting with you!” Vanessa looks at you. “The way he says he kind of likes it when you call him Mr Holland!” She raises her eyebrows at you and wiggles them, causing you to laugh.

“But, what if he’s just a flirty person and it doesn’t mean anything?” You shrug your shoulder knowing this must be the only explanation because there’s no way Tom Holland could be flirting with you. Vanessa shakes her head and looks thoughtful.

“No, I don’t think so. Usually guys who are just flirty with everyone, tend to keep their comments private because they want to play multiple girls at once without them knowing about the others existence. You need to post a selfie or a hot pic of yourself and see if he comments.”

Your eyes widen at her suggestion. “A selfie? I don’t know. What if he doesn’t comment? I feel like it’s going to be worse if he doesn’t because then I’ll feel extra stupid for flirting with him.” Vanessa looks at you sternly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You need to make sure he has no choice but to comment. Come on.” She stands up and grabs your hand and leads you over to a wall decorated with flowers, she orders another two drinks from a passing waiter and reaches into her bag.

“What are you doing?” You ask, as she takes out some setting powder and starts wiping gently across your head and down your nose.

“Getting you ready for a photo.” You sigh, unsure of what to say. She tells you to put some more lipstick on, so you oblige and shake out your loose curls. Vanessa adjusts them over one shoulder, and pulls one of the straps of your dress down.

“Again, what are you doing?” You reach for the strap but Vanessa swats your hand away.

“Leave it. Trust me, right now hold your drink in this hand, and look that way.” You sigh and roll your eyes.

“I feel ridiculous!” Vanessa laughs and snaps a photo.

“But you look amazing! Ok, stop frowning on this one. Smile….Y/N smile...No, you look like your cringing. Is it hard to smile because you’re British?” And you don’t know why, but this makes you genuinely laugh out loud. Vanessa walks over to you after a few moments, looking pleased.

“Here!” She passes you her phone and you look at the photo, feeling somewhat pleasantly surprised. Your smile is genuine and the way she’s framed the photo, makes it look as though your laughing at someone you’re looking at off camera. The fallen dress strap brings attention to your neck and clavicle, which kind of gives it a sexy vibe.

“Ok I’m impressed. Send it to me?” Vanessa smiles and takes her phone back. You save the photo on your phone and bite your lip wondering if this is a good idea. Your friend shakes her head and looks you in the eye.

“Come on, post it. You look amazing!” In spite of your nerves you smile and decide to post the photo with the caption.

“Blowing off some steam after a long week at work! Photo credit to my girl @VCullenLA”

You look at your friend “Now what?” She smiles and leads you to the bar.

“More drinks!” And you think nothing more of the photo.

#tom holland x Fem! reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #new fanfic #part two #lights camera action series #tom holland actor #28th June 2021

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jeongi · 6 years ago

Text

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps.

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious.

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #armiesnet #bangtanarmynet #ggukienet #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan smut #btssmutclub #networkbangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts #oneshot #fic #kpop

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

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Pairings: Sam Winchester x Reader

Trope: Enemies to lovers @serenityhayato ( WRITTEN FOR @negans-lucille-tblr‘s SPN FIC EXCHANGE )

Warnings: Death of a friend, Canonical Gore (werewolf attack), Cursing, Smut (rough Sam, light choking, hand job, oral if you squint- male receiving, unprotected sex), Probably sex at inappropriate times if I’m being honest

Word Count: 7500 (I am so sorry I didn’t realize until I went to post this that it had a 3k word limit… this was definitely my bad but I’ve spent a week writing this and really didn’t want to scrap the whole thing to fit the word limit. I didn’t realize how carried away I got in the set up)

A/N: I have never written anything for Sam before, much less smut, but I wanted to give it a shot. I’m sorry if it’s totally OOC. I was trying to go off the knowledge that he’s canonically pretty rough in bed. I also couldn’t imagine him being super talkative and vocal. I don’t know, I’m just kinda stressed about this one. Also, this was probably definitely an inappropriate time for them to get down and dirty but my brain was glitching on any other idea so I hope you don’t hate it! Happy holidays!

________________

Sam Winchester.

The name alone made your blood boil.

You’d met the man for the first time, just before your hunting career began and quite frankly, you weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what he’d done.

–

It was the first semester of your senior year of college, a proud graduate-to-be of your dream university. Life had been great since you got to college. Old toxic relationships with people back home had practically disappeared, you’d formed a group of the best people you’d ever met, and your academics had been going strong.

Life was going great until people started disappearing only to turn up days later, slaughtered and nearly drained of blood. Anxiety was running high all across the board. The university even turned all night classes to online courses to prevent the likelihood of someone being abducted at night. Your best friend had started acting weird. She constantly shook as if she’d drank a pot of coffee for breakfast and was always looking over her shoulder. “It’s okay, Beth,” You tried to reassure her, “I know everyone is on edge but we’re doing everything we can to stay safe. Just make sure to bring your wooden stake in case the vampire attacks.” You chuckled weakly, knowing your nerve-fueled joke was definitely inappropriate considering that four people had actually died from whoever was out there but humor was a good coping mechanism.

Beth didn’t appreciate the joke at all and had run out of your apartment, disappearing. When she hadn’t returned by seven that night, you got worried enough to go look for her. Grabbing every self defense weapon you had, which was pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a key chain that looked cute but was actually a form of brass knuckles with sharp extrusions on it, you left your apartment to look for Beth, surprisingly well strapped.

You started with her favorite spots: a hipster coffee shop on Main Street, Taco Bell, that one bench in the botanical gardens that overlooked the pond, and the fourth floor of the library. She was nowhere to be seen. You were on the verge of calling the police or those FBI agents that had been questioning people on campus, asking some weird questions from what people had told you. You’d never spoken with them but they did say to come to them with information if anyone had any. You didn’t but they’d be a good start to finding Beth. Where to find them though? Figuring it would be best to just start with campus police, you walked across campus, looking over your shoulder every few seconds. The hair on your neck stood on end and it was impossible to feel safe. Campus police was located on the opposite end of campus and the busses stopped running early on weekdays so walking was your only choice.

“No, please!” You heard a man whimper from somewhere in the trees to your side. You stopped in your tracks and your heart dropped to your stomach. Should you help? Should you run? Should you stay here and call 911?

But then you heard Beth’s voice, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I can’t control it anymore!” And then screams. There were deafening screams of pain and you decided to say screw it. You ran down to try and protect your friend, even though you knew it was probably the last thing you’d ever do. This was stupid. What could you even do? Who knew what was down there attacking them?

When you saw them though, you stopped, skidding to a halt on the leaf covered hill. Beth was knelt over a man’s body, his backpack thrown to the side and ripped open. Though you were quiet, she must have heard you because her attention was whipped to you in an instant. Her face and shirt were covered in blood. It was obvious she’d been eating him or something along those lines.

You felt like a deer in headlights, utterly frozen in terror, denial, and confusion. “I can’t control myself anymore…” she admitted, a regretful sob hiccuping from her lips.

“Why?” You breathed out the question, silent tears falling. Whether they were for fear for your life or just the knowledge that someone you cared about could do something so horrible, you didn’t know.

Before she could answer, there was a loud bang and she fell dead. You flinched and covered your head, crouching instinctively from the gunshot. Your best friend slumped over dead and, despite the fact that you’d just watched her brutally murder some poor stranger, you couldn’t help but call out in shock and horror, “Beth!"

Two men came running down the hill, one of them to Beth’s body and the other to you. "She’s dead. Werewolf, just like we thought.” The man with short hair announced in a deep gruff voice.

“Are you alright?” The one who had come up to asked. He looked a little younger than the other, with longer hair too.

You were shaking, “What the hell just happened?"

"I know this is hard to understand but your friend over there… wasn’t human.” When he said it, you almost scoffed. Of course she was human. What the hell else would she be? Monsters weren’t real.

“You’re kidding me…” You said almost angrily. Then something hit you, “Wait, you’re those FBI detectives.”

The one with short hair walked up to you and the man talking to you. The taller one spoke again, “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. We aren’t really FBI. We hunt monsters. Monsters like your friend over there."

"She wasn’t a monster.” You said, a single tear finally falling down your cheek. Glancing over, you saw her lying dead on the ground, “Not the Beth I knew."

"Well then you didn’t know the real Beth because one look at that thing will tell you she ain’t human.” Dean told you bluntly.

Sam noticed the confusion, fear, and anger in your eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this. It was never easy to tell people they were close to the truth and he preferred to just stay out of it completely but that wasn’t an option this time. “Look, I know this is difficult to understand. But Beth was a werewolf. And yes, they are real. Most monsters are. We’ve been tracking her for weeks."

"W-was she always like this?” Your mind whirled as you struggled to comprehend, truly comprehend, what was happening.

Sam shook his head, “She was turned by a werewolf back in her hometown a few weeks ago. We tracked her from a pack we hunted down over there.” You remembered when she came back, she had a big bandage on her arm. When you asked about it, she brushed it off, saying she ate it racing her brother on longboards. It was probably the bite.

“The fact that she made it as long as she did without killing is honestly impressive. I’ve seen some turn and right away they’re slaughtering people.” Dean chimed in. You hoped their words would console you but they only served to make you angrier.

“So you’re telling me that she was attacked by a werewolf and then turned into one? She was probably terrified! She kept saying how sorry she was! You could have helped her! But you just killed her!” You screamed at them angrily.

“Your friend murdered a bunch of people. Once they turn, there’s no saving them. They’re killers.” Dean said with such conviction that it almost scared you.

Sam put a hand out to Dean, signaling for him to shut up, “There’s only one known way to stop the transformation but it has a really low success rate, is extremely painful, and needs to be administered almost right after the bite. I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out to comfort you but you dodged it, shrugging off his gesture and beginning to walk away.

“I need to go."

"Wait!” Sam called out behind you and you stopped.

“What?!” You snapped, spinning around to stare at him. It was rare that anyone dwarfed Sam Winchester but since you’d been walking up the small hill, you towered over him. The way you glared down at him made him jump.

His words faltered before he finally spoke, “You can’t tell anyone about this. If people knew monsters existed-"

"I’ll decide how I deal with the fact that my apparently werewolf best friend was just murdered by some dudes who think they’re Ghostbusters."

—

Sam saddled up to the bar next to you and promptly ordered two beers. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not sure of what you’d say to him if you made eye contact. You could feel him side eyeing you curiously. Finally, he looked over, "I’m sorry if this is strange but you look so familiar. Have we met?"

You swiveled in the chair to face him, "It’s been a while but yeah. We’ve met. Remember that werewolf at (your college) about a year ago."

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… I knew you looked familiar.” He didn’t sound excited like people usually did when they saw old friends because he knew you weren’t old friends. In fact, he assumed you felt quite the opposite and he understood why. “I never did catch your name."

"Y/N.” You informed shortly, taking a sip of your preferred poison.

Sam rocked back on his heels, “Well, uh, what are you doing out here?” It was Middletown, Arkansas, not exactly a happening place, so seeing you of all people here seemed almost too good to be a coincidence.

“I get the feeling the same reason you are.” You answered, eyebrows rising to infer a hunt.

It didn’t take long for Sam to figure what you meant, “Wait, you’re hunting now? Why?"

"After you guys left, I was devastated. You’d murdered my best friend,” you watched him sink into himself a little when you said that but continued seamlessly, “I was left alone with the sudden knowledge that monsters existed. I decided one day that I wanted to protect people like Beth. You know, the ones that innocently stumble into dangerous situations and have their lives ruined by a bite or scratch."

The tall Winchester brother was about to say something but Dean called from a few tables over, "Sammy!” He called out, pointing to a booth on the side wall. The bar was fairly busy for it being such a small town, with people playing pool or eating fries with their gin and tonics. Music played in the background and, though it wasn’t a song you knew off the top of your head, it sounded like every other dive bar in towns like this.

Sam held up a finger to his brother, begging pardon for just a second, before looking back over to you, “Look, I’m really sorry about everything. I really am. I know it doesn’t help but I’ve lost friends who were turned as well so I know how you feel.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens, right?” Your voice sounded anything but forgiving but it also wasn’t hostile either. It was more matter-of-fact. As much as you had hated Sam Winchester for what he had taken from you, if there was one thing you had learned over these last few months it was that shit really does happen. As hard as you tried, you really couldn’t save them all.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder to see Dean wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him, clearly thinking you were someone Sam was trying to pick up for the night. Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to you, “If we’re both here for the vamp nest, then do you maybe want to come work with us?"

You thought for a moment. In all honesty, you had been under the impression that it was just one vampire wreaking havoc on the small town. Call it a novice mistake, because in all actuality, you really were still a relatively new hunter. One vampire you could take, a whole nest would be trickier. "Fine. But just so we don’t die."

You hopped off the barstool, glass of liquid fire in your hand, as you followed Sam back to the booth Dean was sitting at. At first, the older brother looked confused as to why his brother would bring his company for the night to meet him but didn’t say anything about it when you sat down beside Sam across the table from Dean.

"This is Y/N. She’s gonna help us work the case.” Sam announced, not leaving much room for objection.

Dean’s eyes studied you, “You look familiar. You’re a hunter?” He asked, trying to piece together why he recognized you.

You shrugged, “Am now but you know me from ‘bout a year ago when you guys killed my best friend. She was bit by a werewolf. Remember, that college girl?"

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… yeah. Sorry about that but she was, y'know, a werewolf. So-” he shrugged insensitively, earning him a hard kick in the shin from Sam under the table. Dean looked back with that expression of 'what?’ That little kids had when they got in trouble.

“Well, anyways, she’s hunting now and is in town for the nest. I figured working together would be our best option.” Sam tried to be a peaceful moderator but it was hard when he knew how much you loathed him. It was frustrating, really, that you wouldn’t just see that Beth had become a monster. He understood that losing friends was hard but she had been killing innocent people.

“What’s the plan, then? We want to pick them off one by one so there’s less to fight at once or-” you began before Dean interrupted.

He shook his head, chewing some fries he’d shoved in his mouth while he spoke, “Nuh-uh. Gank the whole nest at once. Get 'em all in one place and torch it."

"Okay, well where’s the nest then?” You questioned.

Sam shrugged, “We don’t know yet. That’s what we gotta figure out."

"I have a file of police reports and eye witnesses on my laptop back at my hotel. I was just gonna grab a map of the town while I was out tonight to try and see if I could draw a location from the attacks.” You hadn’t planned on actually bringing work to do at the bar. You’d mostly come to see if you could overhear any drunken tales of vampires around town but it had been pretty dead as far as crazy stories so far.

Something behind you caught Dean’s attention and he leaned in close to you and Sam, “Hey, I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.” He said with a smirk and a wink.

As his brother stood, Sam threw his hand up in exasperation, “Where are you going?"

"Hopefully for a homerun.” Dean winked with a cocky smirk before walking away. You turned around to follow Dean with your gaze and immediately saw his target sitting at the bar, a beautiful African American woman with bouncing curls and a sultry smile on her berry stained lips. Honestly, you couldn’t’ say you blamed the older Winchester one bit.

Sam let out a huff of disappointment and rolled his eyes at his brother’s priorities. “Guess it’s just you and me then…” He groaned, not at the prospect of having to spend time with you but just at his brother’s laziness. Dean always managed to find an excuse out of the research part.

“Great.” You responded, unamused. Of the two brothers, Sam was the one you had an issue with- the trigger man on the night that changed your life. “Well, we should get a start on all this so we can get out of here sooner. If you didn’t get any food, you wanna head back to my room?”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized how it sounded and you became a bumbling mess, “Wait- I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

Sam bit back a chuckle and raised his hand up off the table, motioning for you to stop, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He laughed, long hair shining in the dim light as he moved to turn away from you with closed eyes while he chuckled. It really was a shame that he had done what he’d done to you. An opportunity with such a handsome man just had to be killed by his lack of compassion all those months ago.

You slid out of the booth, “Alright, well, I guess I’ll drive. Looks like Dean will be needing your car.” You smirked knowingly as you glanced over at Dean who had the woman he’d had eyes on in stitches over something he’d said.

Sam followed your lead, “Sounds good. I don’t think I want to be in the car after whatever they do anyways.”

Your black 2007 Honda Pilot was clean enough to not be totally embarrassed about but then you saw Sam’s little snort, “A Honda Pilot?”

“We can’t all have cool muscle cars or old trucks, jackass. I can go all terrain with decent gas mileage. Besides, I’d rather sleep in the back of this than your gas guzzler. She’s surprisingly spacious.” You defended your vehicle rather seriously, running your hand across the dash soothingly. The funny thing was that you’d really never been all too attached to the car until Sam insinuated insulting remarks about it.

“She?” He quipped with a raised brow, climbing into the passenger seat.

You slammed the door shut and started the engine, “Yes, she. Dahlia.”

Sam put his hands up, resigning his teasing assault on your car. The drive to the motel was short. You never really liked travelling too far from where you were staying when you didn’t have to. Hunting on your own, especially as a newbie, made you anxious. When you pulled into the parking lot, Sam looked out the window, “You’re staying here too?”

You looked over at him, “You guys are staying here?”

He nodded and patted his pockets, looking for the room key but quickly finding the gesture useless, “Room 24. You?”

“34. You must be right under me.” You said, again visibly cringing at your poor word choice, “You know what I mean.”

Sam tried his hardest not to smile, “Wasn’t gonna say anything.” He assured. You pulled into a space right in front of room 24 and parked. Sam followed you up to your room, which was relatively untouched still. You’d only arrived that morning so, aside from your bag of belongings that was thrown onto the single queen bed, the motel room was still as you had found it.

Sam closed the door behind the two of you and you grabbed your laptop from the bag. So many rooms you’d stayed in had little tables or desks but you quickly noticed that this one was lacking. As Sam awkwardly shuffled up to the bed where you sat casually, you noticed that there wasn’t really enough room for the two of you to work on the ground either.

With a huff, you scooted over, “You can sit on the bed. Just no shoes on the covers.” You had toed your own shoes off on the floor before tucking your legs underneath you. Sam sat beside you, careful to keep a respectful distance between your bodies, while you opened the lid of your laptop and began typing away.

“Alright, this is what I have so far.” You began.

Time became lost on you and Sam as midnight rolled around and you were still discussing the facts of the case. “I’m still confused as to why the hell you think Lenora’s body turning up on Seventh St and Jason’s body turning up on Hargrove Ave means the nest is on Willow Dr.” You were getting annoyed at Sam. In all honesty, you were annoyed at yourself for not seeing what he saw because as much as you hated to admit it, he was probably right. He and his brother hadn’t earned their reputations for being wrong. But, geez, why did it have to be Sam Winchester?

“Because it’s not so much Jason’s body. The old lady, Meredith, made a phone call to her nephew, saying she was at Willow Dr, just before she attacked.” Sam pointed at the map of the town with one finger while leaning his weight back on the bed. His other hand reached back to prop himself up but you quickly flinched away when you felt his rough fingers blindly land on your own.

Sam’s eyes shot wide when you felt your sudden movement, “‘M sorry.” He said, moving his hand closer to his body.

The contact made your heart race in a way that made you simultaneously crave his touch again and be angry at yourself for feeling that way. You cursed yourself, scooting an inch or so away from Sam’s body. Clearly, your body was just blindly reacting after being touch starved for so long. You hadn’t so much as kissed anyone since before you became a hunter. It had to just be a primal reaction, nothing more.

“I’ll just take your word for it.” You grumbled, returning to the original matter at hand. You hated feeling like you were just letting him think he was right about everything but you were getting tired. “So what’s the plan? Gank ‘em all tomorrow night?”

Sam shrugged, “We’d have to talk to Dean. Most of them will probably be hiding in the nest in the morning to avoid the sun so at least they’d be in one place. But night gives us more time to plan. Who knows when he’ll be back.”

“Why don’t we just lure them all out into the sun and watch them burn?” You suggested, thinking it was a brilliant idea. You actually had yet to deal with vamps. This would be your first case hunting them and you were actually a little excited to learn something new.

The Winchester shook his head, “The sun doesn’t kill them. Think less Interview With a Vampire and more… bad sunburn.” He explained, “Have you never hunted one before?”

Again, you got defensive, “I’m still new at this. I mostly stick to werewolves and ghosts.” Admitting to yourself you needed to learn more was one thing. Admitting it to Sam was another.

He looked over at the gun on your nightstand, “Is that what you were gonna use?” He questioned, brows furrowed.

“No, I’m not dumb. I have some wooden stakes in the car.”

It took everything in Sam’s power to not laugh at you. At you felt like the wrong way to put it. He wasn’t laughing at you. He just found your determination to be a good hunter cute in an endearing way, even if you got your information from cheesy TV shows.

“What?” You asked, almost angrily, seeing the look of amusement on his face.

Sam shook his head, “Decapitation is the main way to kill vampires. Unless you have special bullets or weapons, cutting off the heads is the easiest way to go.”

Your jaw clenched and you turned away from him, upset that he of all people had to explain something that was apparently Hunter 101. You didn’t mind learning. Not knowing things typically was just an opportunity to pick something new up but this incident just felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“You know what? It looks like you and Dean have things handled here. I’m gonna go. Divide and conquer. I’ll just go find somewhere with monsters that I know about so you don’t have to babysit me.” You stood up aggressively, voice surprisingly calm and just almost convincing enough to make him think you weren’t being petty, which of course you were. You didn’t mean to be acting childish. It was just that running into Sam and Dean had been enough to handle. Having what was still left for you to learn shoved in your face was just the cherry on top.

Sam stood up after you, exasperated, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re still new to this and everyone has to start somewhere. Hell, Dean and I are still learning new stuff all the time.”

“It’s not that. This was just a bad idea. I thought I could handle working with you but I can’t.” You shook your head, turning around just to reach around Sam’s body and grab the jacket that you’d discarded before shrugging it back over your shoulders. You started shoving the few things you’d unpacked- a gun, your laptop, and some files- back into your blue duffel bag.

Sam had always considered himself fairly level-headed and capable of dealing with difficult people but something in him snapped when he saw you packing up to leave over something so stupid, “Fine, go ahead and leave. We’ll deal with the nest without you. But you know what? Nobody asked you to get involved in hunting. You can’t just go run off every time someone dies.”

You scoffed, “I got into hunting to prevent people from dying. I got into hunting to try and save them from being killed by people like you!”

“You’re acting like we just kill everyone we come across. We kill monsters, Y/N. We save people by killing them. We prevent more people from getting turned into monsters by killing them. And you know what? Beth became a monster.” Sam’s voice raised to almost a yell as he gestured widely and aggressively.

“Beth was scared and you murdered her!” You shouted angrily, tears welling in your eyes.

“Beth was killing people!” Sam yelled at you before taking a moment to breathe, continuing more calmly, “Can’t you see that? Most of these monsters we hunt were just poor bastards in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s not a lot we can do for people like that. But we can keep them from hurting others. If we had known there was a werewolf back in Beth’s hometown, we could have killed them before they could turn her and she would still be here. Would you be angry if we’d have killed the werewolf that turned her? Would you still be calling me a murderer?”

You chewed your tongue in your mouth hard, trying to use the physical pain to distract you from the urge to cry out of frustration. Why did he have to make sense? Why did he have to confirm every rational thought you’d ever had concerning the situation? You wanted to hate Sam Winchester for what he’d done but you knew deep down that it was never that simple. You knew he had a point but you didn’t want to admit it.

Sam saw the way your jaw clenched angrily, the way your throat moved as you swallowed hard, and the way your eyes glistened with unshed tears. He took a step closer to you and reached a gentle hand out towards your arm, “I am sorry that you lost your best friend.”

For some reason, the gentle sincerity of his voice is what broke you. Tears fell down your face in hot streams as you cried. They weren’t tears for Beth’s death. Those had long been drained from you, many nights spent mourning what you’d lost. These tears were for the final snap of your animosity for the Winchester. You had spent so long hating him. You wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, but how the hell were you supposed to do that when he looked you in the eye and truly meant it when he said he was sorry.

There was a twinge of pain in his own green eyes that made you realize that he truly had experienced the same sort of heartache that you did and that he was sincerely apologetic for being the cause of it. But it was also clear that, while he was sorry for hurting you, he was not sorry for what he had done. Part of the cause for your tears was that you were angry with yourself for not being able to hate him, despite knowing that he didn’t regret killing Beth. You were crying because he was right. She had become a monster and, in his shoes, you probably would have done the same thing. You would have shot your best friend.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, voice shaky as you did.

Sam used his light grip on your arm to pull you in slowly for a hug, his large arms enveloping you in a surprisingly comforting embrace. You buried your face into his flannel, tears staining the fabric. One of his large hands gently cradled the base of your head while his other rubbed up and down your shaking back.

He didn’t know what to say anymore. Your response had honestly surprised him. The girl that he was used to receiving nothing but animosity from was now shaking in his arms and apologizing. “It’s okay,” was all Sam could think to mutter out.

He held you like that for a while, though you weren’t sure exactly how long it was. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes and you would be none the wiser but all you knew was that you didn’t want Sam to let you go and, for once, you didn’t hate yourself for it. The tears had dried, leaving only slightly stiff feeling skin in their place. Your breath had long since stopped leaving your lungs in wracked hiccups. Your arms had moved from resting on his broad chest to being loosely wrapped around his waist at some point.

You pulled back first, lifting your head from his chest but keeping your hands on his body still. Sam lifted his cheek off your head, where it had been residing in a surprisingly soft show of affection, and he gazed down at you. You were amazed by how completely you had let your rage blind you. Before tonight, Sam was nothing more than scum to you but now, looking into his eyes after forgiving him, you realized that he was easily one of the most beautiful men you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Even with the tears now gone, Sam still saw the dim light of the cheap motel lamp sparkled against the color of your irises and damn if it wasn’t beautiful. He slid his hand up from your shoulder to gently brush away a few thin strands of hair that had stuck to your cheek while it was pressed against his chest- a feeling he found himself missing. His breath caught in his throat when you reached up to cover his hand with your smaller one, pressing it gently to stay on your cheek.

Your eyes slid closed and you gently nuzzled against his hand before opening your eyes again, reaching around his neck, and oh so slowly pulling him down while you perched on your tiptoes. There was more than enough time for Sam to pull away but he didn’t. In fact, much to your surprise, he closed the gap between you faster. His lips pressed to yours, rougher than you anticipated, but enjoyably nonetheless.

The breath was knocked out of your lungs and you struggled to breathe against his lips but refused to pull away. You bit his lip gently while you kissed, slipping your tongue against his when he gave in to what you were craving.

Sam reached down under your ass and lifted you without you even needing to jump. A squeal of surprise was swallowed by his lips as he walked you both to the bed. Once his legs bumped the old mattress, he sat down, lowering you to land on his lap. Your knees fell to either side of his hips where you gave an experimental rotation of your hips against his clothed erection. He let out a strangle exhalation at the friction, his fingers digging into your ass and pulling you harder onto him. The fabric of his rough jeans rubbed delicious against your clothed core, a wetness beginning to form in your panties.

Slowly, you pressed your weight forward and Sam allowed you to push him onto his back. You laid on top of him, lips moving from his lips down his neck but he didn’t let you get far. Sam placed a supportive hand on the small of your back and managed to flip you both over so he was on top and before you knew it, he was devouring you. Lips kissed hot trails across your face and down your neck, across the tops of your breasts that were ever so slightly revealed by your v-neck t-shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his long hair and he let out a breathy groan when you tugged on the brunette locks, pulling him closer to you. Sam crawled down your body, his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to run across your burning skin beneath. He felt like heaven and hell all in one, burning with fiery lust and yet so sweet and comforting despite the fervor with which he moved.

You pushed yourself up, pushing Sam to sit back on his knees while you did, all without breaking the kiss, to shrug off your jacket. Your shirt was next, falling onto the floor with your jacket before Sam pushed you backwards again, your back hitting the mattress. His large hand started low your belly, running straight up between the valley of your breasts and then raking downwards, pulling the cups of your bra down and grazing your nipples deliciously with his calloused fingers.

It had been so long since you’d been touched like this that even the small act had your back arching into his body. “Sam…” You breathed out, eyes sliding closed at the sensation. Every flick against your sensitive buds sent a shock straight to your core that had you hooking your leg around his hip, pulling him closer into you. Your hands ran up and down his large biceps before moving to pull the sleeves of his flannel down his arms. He only pulled away from you long enough to throw the restricting clothing on the ground, his shirt joining short after.

Your mouth started physically salivating at the sight of the man before you, sculpted by the gods. Defined pectorals and rippling abs covered his torso, adorned with a symbol that looked like a pentagram inside of a sun- a symbol you were unfamiliar with. Sam didn’t give you much time to marvel though because he was back to kissing a line down your body, the light stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and chest. He stopped to revel in your breasts, wiggling his hands under your body to expertly unclasp your bra and shimmy it off you. The second they were revealed to him, his tongue was dragging across the supple sick and his teeth were lightly nibbling at the sensitive buds.

��Oh my gosh-” You let out in a breathy giggle. Sam switched breasts, giving the other equal attention. Your fingernails raked lightly over his shoulders and across his chest and you felt Sam shiver at the touch. His lips trailed lower and lower until they found the waistline of your jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, the button was popped and the denim material was dragged down your legs, taking your socks with them as they were pulled over your ankles. He kissed his way back up your legs, from ankle until he slowly inched closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

His scruff scraped along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you bit your lip at the sensation, unsure if you were trying to hold back a giggle from the ticklish feeling or a moan from the shocks it sent to your core. Sam chuckled to himself when he saw the wet patch of cloth over your clothed heat. He’d barely touched you and you were already dripping for him.

He had a wicked idea though. He got closer and closer to your sex, the smell intoxicating, and gripped your thighs tightly, possibly leaving bruises. Just when his lips were about to land on your core, he moved to the left, kissing your hip bones instead and back up your belly.

Annoyed by the teasing, you sat up, pulling Sam up gently by the hair to be face to face with you. Your ass was a few inches from the edge of the bed, toes just touching the ground, when you pushed Sam back just enough to be able to reach his pants. You hooked your fingers into the belt loops on either side of his pelvis and pulled him close to you. His forehead pressed flush against yours, “Are you gonna keep being a tease or are you gonna fuck me already, Winchester?”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made quick work of his remaining clothing and hovered over you like a predator about to move in for the kill. “You want me to just fuck you already?” He mimicked, voice low and testing. His green eyes bore into your own orbs with a challenge that you refused to back down from.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” You challenged, standing up and sliding your underwear down your legs, all while keeping unyielding eye contact with Sam. Once they left your form with a small flick of your toes, a dark smirk krept up on his face.

“Turn around.” He demanded and, while you were inwardly more than happy to comply, you didn’t want him to think he had you quite that easy.

You rolled your eyes as you did, an sinful smirk playing on your lips, “Yes, sir.” You chimed sarcastically.

Before you knew it, you were bent over at the waist, face and chest pressed into the mattress by Sam’s nearly crushing body. His hand snaked around your front, picking up some of your slickness on his fingers before circling your clit while he growled in your ear, “Don’t know what the attitude’s about. You’re the one who asked to get fucked.”

Your knees quivered at his filthy words while his fingers worked your clit slowly and painfully. His rock hard erection rubbed along your ass, teasing your entrance every now and again as he rocked his hips against your body. He stood up and removed his hand from your clit. Your hips moved back, trying desperately to chase his fleeting touch. Sam groaned when your body slid over his cock, skin burning against his own. After a few experimental tugs at his own member, he positioned himself at your entrance, giving you a few moments to back out if that was what you’d wanted. Backing out was so far from what you wanted though. You wanted - nay, needed - him inside of you and you needed him now. You were convinced you’d combust if he made you wait any longer.

His hands landed on your hips to help guide a slow thrust forward. His length gradually entered you, the searing stretch to accommodate him making your muscles contract around him. Sam hisses out a sound of pleasure, “You’re so tight.”

His first few thrusts were slow, each time managing to grind impossibly deeper into you. “Fuck, Sam.” Your fingers wound tightly in the sheets with each thrust of his hips and your eyes screwed shut as your breaths came out almost as hisses through grit teeth.

Sam used his leverage on your hips to move your body in time with his thrusts. Each motion sent your body into the mattress, the bed shaking as he pounded into you. You let out little squeaks of pleasure every now and again but Sam wanted to hear more out of the girl who’d had nothing to say to him but spiteful things for so long.

A large hand came to clasp around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but enough to guide you up. You pressed your body up to your feet sloppily on your hands but standing proved to be a difficult task with Sam still moving relentlessly into you. Your thighs were shaking, barely able to support your weight, as this new angle allowed for Sam to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. His hand stayed around your throat, tightening along the sides of your neck when he lost himself in the way you felt around him- warm and soft. You were grateful that he was letting your head lull back against his shoulder otherwise you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stay upright.

Sam’s free hand first sloppily groped around the front of your chest until it found one of your breasts, kneading it roughly. The rough skin of his fingers grazed your nipples yet again, only adding to the pleasure you felt below. The knot was tightening and it was tightening fast.

“Please-” You managed to gasp out, not because of the choking (his grip wasn’t that tight) but because the electricity in the room seemed to have stolen your voice. Sam’s hand moved from your nipples down to your clit where he rubbed fast tight circles. “Oh my gosh, yes!” You whined, reaching up overhead to tangle your fingers in his hair. You forced his mouth down to meet yours and the pressure in your core snapped. Your moans and cries of pleasure were swallowed by Sam’s lips and he could have swallowed a thousand more.

He worked you through your orgasm until your body went limp in his arms. Slowly, he came to a stop before pulling out and quickly working himself in his hands. After catching your breath though, you turned back to Sam, placed your hands on his shoulders, and used them to spin the two of you around and push him back onto the bed. His long legs hung over the edge and you settled yourself between his knees, gently grasping his member, still slick with your wetness, and worked him with your hand.

Sam lied back on the white duvet, head thrown back in bliss at your touch. Your hand felt so much better than his own as it worked up and down his shaft before coming up to circle around the tip. He was rock hard and ready to burst at any given moment. When you leaned forward to like a long stripe along the underside of his cock, he was done for. A few more pumps and Sam fell apart in your hand, painting your hand and his stomach with his seed. “Shit!” The muscles of his abs contracted mesmerizingly as the waves of his high rolled over him.

Your hand slowed as his climax came to an end, his member softening in your hand. You wiped the mess he’d made on your hand on your breasts and stomach, knowing it would be easier to keep those parts of you off the covers than your hand. With a heavy sigh of crashing relief, your body fell onto the mattress beside Sam and you both stared at the ceiling in a fucked out post-coital haze.

“So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” Sam asked after a few moments, surprising you with the genuine tone behind the semi-joking question.

You stared up at the chipping popcorn ceiling, “I didn’t for like two seconds but now I do again just because those were the first words out of your mouth.” Your voice was steady, unwavering, and Sam cringed inwardly, avoiding eye contact entirely. That is, until you sighed and continued, “But, I guess, if you wanted to take me out for a drink sometime there’s a slim chance I wouldn’t object.” This time, there was a teasing smile on your face when you turned your head to look at Sam.

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