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weretheones · 1 year

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All You Got | Part 6

Part 6: If You Must

Series Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: references to abuse, blood, injury, shock, vomit. A/N: eek I am very excited for you guys to read this one!! pls let me know ur thoughts <3

“House is clean.”

Run-down, old, and dirty. The only thing the single-story home was clean of was decomposing bodies, walking or not. Though, that was all that mattered, anyway.

The living room was quiet. A breeze of early autumn air blew through the open window just behind Daryl’s head. The couch cushioned him, neck stretched out as he leaned back. With whatever energy he had left, he still held the pad of a pillow casing against his left shoulder. But his eyes were low, his skin dull.

You hurried back to his side, taking a kneel beside his sprawled-out legs.

“Still bleeding?”

“Think it's stoppin’.”

“Good,” you sighed. You dug through the bag. “We still have some clean water and bandages.”

That was luck. The only bag you’d made it out of that station with— your bag— had most of the medical supplies, on account of your frequent use and all. Problem was, his bag had most of the food. Inside yours, the provisions weren’t much: a few protein bars, a snack-sized bag of chips, and two cans of food.

You pulled one of the cans out. He’d need it soon.

“How are you feeling?”

“Bout as good as I look,” he groaned.

You held out two ibuprofen. “Take these.”

Daryl’s eyes snapped between you and the pills, and he shook his head.

“Save ‘em.”

“You were shot. Take them.”

He was stubborn, but he didn’t seem so intimidating with that pale look.

“Daryl.”

He gave in with a sigh of his own. Took a swig of that half-full water bottle and popped them in his mouth.

You placed the bottle back down, then straightened yourself up.

“I gotta check it out.”

Daryl’s teeth dug into his cheek, timid eyes glancing over your easy expression, which seemed to counter him in every way. Hesitation took root. Daryl couldn’t stop it. Even after all these years, he’d never figured out how.

You hadn’t let it do the same to you. You were relatively calm, if not a bit tense about the prospect of digging a bullet out of him, but that anxiety hadn’t solidified in you as it had for him.

Something about your composure slowed the growth of those anxious roots, though. And after a noticeable moment of consideration, he nodded.

A moment that had you wondering how deep his pride went; oblivious of any other reason for his apprehension.

You unwrapped your sweater from his shoulder, then reached beyond the frayed edges of his shirt sleeves, where he’d ripped them off, it looked like. The second your fingers touched him, his muscles ignited and flinched.

Oddly, you flinched too, as if you could almost feel your skin burn him. Though your reaction was slight enough that maybe it could’ve been blamed it on nerves, if needed.

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d touched Daryl. No, the two of you broke that boundary the first day you met him and continued to break it every time he grabbed your hand running from the dead or helped wrap your leg. You were sure you afforded him the same gentle touch he’d done for you inside that pharmacy a week ago, and yet, he tensed as if you were about to dig your finger into his wound.

Sure you hadn’t touched like this, with you patching him up, but that didn’t seem to explain his uneasiness, either.

Slowly, you reached out again, and this time he managed to stay still long enough for you to peek underneath the sleeve of his shirt, trying to find the entry point of that bullet between the streams of red. A small, circular wound sat just below his collarbone, red and purple wrapped around it like a ring. Even from this admittedly awkward angle, it looked like the streaks of blood that had been dripping down his arm and side were dry. Relief swept over you at the sight of the wound, no longer leaking a fresh stream of crimson.

Daryl could read it on your face, but he seemed distracted; it didn’t do much to soothe him.

“I need to check for an exit wound.”

The brush of your fingers seemed to instruct him; he repositioned himself so that his back was better visible, even if hunched over, slightly. You climbed onto the couch and sat by his side to get a proper look at the back of his shoulder. The afternoon sunlight pouring in from the window behind guided you, a glimmer of gold landing on freshly bruised skin. It hit his back like a beacon, the warm beat of the sun seemed to make his discomfort double. Which made your brow furrow— you figured once you got through the initial flinch, he would calm, but the more of him you explored, the worse his trepidation got.

Your fingers reached out, even slower than before as you began to become downright distracted by his behaviour. Concern shifted into suspicion. This didn’t feel like a pride issue, not some holdout that he was fine and didn’t need your damn help. No, it felt like he was hiding something, you realized, as a pit deepened in your gut; what didn’t he want you to see?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t at the exit wound itself. He let you peel the edge of his shirt back barely an inch, just enough to see it. This hole was bigger than the first, with bits of frayed skin— like his shirt— from where the bullet had ripped through him. It couldn’t have been any bigger than a nine millimetre, Thank God.

“Looks like it went clean through.”

The bandages and water bottle sat next to you, ready to use.

“I’ll clean and wrap it as best as I can.” You dashed some water on a clean pad of gauze, and tried not to sound strained when you instructed, unsure of his reaction, “You gotta take off your shirt.”

Despite facing his back, you could see the stiffness take hold. His shoulders, even hunched and weak, tightened. Long hair hung in his face, hiding whatever expression he had, but his sudden shift in frame was enough to reveal his restraint.

“I just need this shoulder free. If you need help I can—“

“’S fine.”

You paused, swallowing down that lump of anxiety in your throat. You leaned forward an inch, taking a peek behind that curtain of dark chestnut bangs to glance across his face, wondering if you’d find anger or fear hidden beyond.

As if he could feel your eyes dig into him, his head snapped back.

“Can do it myself.”

Your expression softened, even if his was hard again; defensive, like he’d been all those days ago. The days that felt so much farther than they really were, that made you find comfort in a man you once thought hated you. Days that had encompassed so much that even when faced with that same look, almost as mean as that first day, you only felt concerned.

His hand reached out for the bandages.

“You can’t bandage it yourself, Daryl. You won’t be able to reach.”

For a moment, he seemed to ignore you. That, or he couldn’t even bare himself to look at you. His eyes narrowed on the damp pad of gauze in your hand and nothing else.

Your chin lowered, forcing him to catch your eye despite his tunnel vision. It wasn’t a shock to find his jaw sewn tight, or the taut line of his lips. Though, you hadn’t been expecting to find a glimpse of vulnerability hidden in the cracks of his rigid demeanour. He didn’t seem angry, and the fear across his features was only second to the humiliation staining dark blue eyes.

He was ashamed, not mad.

Softened into a whisper, you pleaded with him, “I just want to help.”

He turned away and nodded. Slow, barely there. It was a quick and silent crumble of his attitude; his intimidating glare slipped off you, right-hand lifting to undo the top buttons of his shirt, one by one.

You took the hesitant permission, nonetheless, gently pulling the fabric off. The shoulder of his shirt fell loose, and there was blood trailing down the side of his back, but that wasn’t what made you freeze.

Daryl had scars. Even in that relatively small expanse of his bare skin, only the upper left corner of his back, little ones were scattered. Thin white lines, some pink, marking different patterns. You couldn’t even guess what those were from— cuts that never fully healed? Then there were the big ones, the ones you didn’t even want to guess anything about.

It felt wrong.

Every inch of Daryl’s resistance made sense then. And hell, he deserved that. Not to be exposed raw to a woman he barely knew because it was either that or a nasty infection. Not to have her sat behind him, gawking at the thick, raised ridges across his shoulder.

So you didn’t— wouldn’t let yourself, even if you’d never seen that shade of reddish purple look so cruel before. You managed to hold back the gasp that was caught in your throat. Made sure that every breath you took was quiet, and not stark against the otherwise silent air. There was no certainty that any of it was the right thing to do, but it felt the least wrong.

A drop of blood was still wet, catching in the sunlight. You clenched your jaw and got to work cleaning the back of his shoulder.

And you didn’t say a word.

The silence that followed was tense. Only broken with the occasional gust of wind and Daryl’s small whimpers when you got too close to the wound, and he couldn’t bite his tongue anymore without taking the thing off.

Ten minutes later he was still pale. Maybe even more so than before. You grabbed a roll of gauze and started to wrap his shoulder. Since you’d cleared the house, your thoughts had been anything but subtle. Trying to think of something to say, something to do. But everything felt misguided; every ‘I’m sorry this happened to you’ or ‘are you okay?’ that came to mind felt disingenuous, like it was meant to make you comfortable, rather than him.

He was chewing on his thumb now, elbow propped on his knee as he sat still and let you work. He seemed okay, at first glance, but you were starting to understand that the mindless gnawing, whether it be at his thumb or cheek, meant he was falling deeper and deeper in thought.

That seemed to push you to speak; even if you still weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, it seemed a better choice than letting Daryl spiral further.

“You’re not scared of your own blood, are you?”

Daryl was silent for a moment, then seemed to choke out, “Jus’ tired.”

You nodded.

His voice got stronger and started to sound more like him, again. “Seen enough’a it to not be scared.”

It made sense, considering the scars.

But you wouldn’t bring that up.

“You get shot a lot?” you asked, instead.

“Only once ‘fore.”

“And hopefully not again.”

Daryl huffed at the quip. It was a sweet relief to that tension lingering over you two.

“Used to sell blood when I was a kid, though.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Merle made me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Merle?”

“My brother.”

Jesus. He did sound like an asshole.

You bit your tongue, again.

“Merle and Daryl…” you hummed.

Daryl filled in the blank, “Dixon.”

You paused.

“Daryl Dixon,” you repeated. “Suits you.”

He huffed at that, and sensing he didn’t want you to pry into anything related to his brother, or whatever other blood family he’d had, you asked another question.

“How’d you get shot the first time?”

“Accident.”

“And you got shot?”

“One’a our group thought I was a walker.”

You glanced down at him, realizing that he wasn’t joking when that serious expression didn’t slip. In fact, he had a small smirk on his lips, like he could read your mind.

A laugh bubbled up.

“Sorry,” you chuckled, “It’s just, had they ever seen a walker?”

He scoffed, “I wasn’t, uh, in the best’a shape when it happened.”

You gave him a questioning look.

“Had an arrow to the side, blood runnin’ down my chin, covered in mud. Dead man walking wasn’t too big’a leap.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“’S a long story.”

You continued to bandage his shoulder. It was better from him to stay awake and talking, so you shrugged. “We got time.”

Daryl went quiet. It was only then you realized that was another nerve.

“Unless you don’t want to—“

“It ain’t a happy story, neither,” he muttered your name at the end as if to soften the blow.

You gave him an understanding smile. “I got some of those too.”

Of course, he knew that. His eyes fell to the specs of blood on your cheek, uncertain if it was his or theirs.

A soft tension drifted into the room. It settled over that old couch; Daryl’s figure and you kneeling by his side. It smelt like that soap he’d given you this morning, if it’d been mixed with a hint of iron.

“Hey. I wanna thank ya for wha' ya did,” he mumbled. “It couldn’t’a been easy.”

It was a lot easier than you thought it’d be.

You looked down at your hands, vision foggy from the sudden swarm of guilt.

“It wasn’t hard, either.”

You remembered the first time you killed someone. That woman in the woods. The one who tried to kill you first. That was hard. Mitch and the others were different. You knew them. Knew the bad ran deep.

Irredeemable.

Sometimes, when you fell deep into that pit, you worried you might’ve been the same.

“Some of them were always bad. I get that now.”

“Still,” he mumbled, “shouldn’t’a had to do tha’.”

“I’ve done worse.”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Don’t make it right.”

That shut you up quickly. Halted amongst thoughts of guilt and regret. It was a fine line trying to keep yourself from slipping into that pit of self-doubt, and lately, it felt like you were losing grip of the edge.

Daryl’s unfiltered stare, heavy eyelids dropping low as he scanned your expression— the way you mindlessly bit your lip, the gloss of your eyes— seemed to narrow in on your cracks. That quiet look slipped through, just barely, but enough that it felt like there was a soft blanket wrapped around you. A slow, cautious warmth lifting you just an inch.

Just an inch.

Your eyes were still glass, thoughts still mean. Daryl could see through it, too.

He grumbled, “Ya gotta stop that.”

Your eyes focused again.

“Stop what?”

“Gettin' in your head. Spiralling. Don't do nothin’ but make ya upset.”

That warmth caught flame, it felt like. A slow burn of cynicism in your chest.

“You think you know my head?”

You were a damn hypocrite, scolding him like that.

“I know tha' look on your face,” he said. “I know ya beat yourself up ‘bout it every chance ya get.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

He blinked. You knew he would.

See? Hypocrite.

“When we were back in the station and they offered to take me in after they were gonna kill you…” dejected words paused, mouth still parted in thought. It was only when you finally looked away from the blood smeared across your fingers and met Daryl’s eye that you regained your voice. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“Wasn’t sure.”

You exhaled a heavy breath, asking the real question plaguing you.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed. Nonchalant in the lazy shrug he gave, but his eyes had a lingering tendency to betray his true feelings.

“You’re patching me up, ain’t ya?”

If it wasn’t for that look in his eye, a subtle hint of empathy lighting up those baby blues, you would’ve asked for a direct answer. But the vague proclamation was surprisingly satisfying; warmth bloomed inside you, though it wasn’t anything like that flicker of anger that caught, earlier.

“Did you think I was going to go with them?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, lips drawn in a tight line. “Ya didn’t.”

The last spark of that bitter flame seemed to simmer out, then.

“You’re right ‘ere.”

Reduced to ashes.

Maybe absentminded wasn’t the word. No, but something had shifted in your eyes. Made Daryl feel like you were looking at him with more appreciation than ever— and he’d saved your life before.

The way your hand reached up was careful enough that he managed to hold back the worse of his flinch. The soft pads of your fingers brushed along his forehead, collecting his bangs to the side. If it wasn’t for the way he blinked, awkward and a bit too quick, like something caught in his eye, you might’ve not even noticed what you were doing. Once you did, though, you paused, touch lingering before you had the wits to let your hand fall to your lap again. A blush crept up your neck, pooling at your cheeks, even after your timid eyes had fallen to your lap, too.

“How’s your head?” you excused, weakly.

“’S fine,” he cleared his throat. “Pills are helpin’.”

“Good. Let’s hope you don’t get a concussion.”

Daryl offered a small nod.

“Do you need me to check out your ribs or…?”

“‘M fine. Doesn’t feel like he broke anythin’.”

You gave a small smile, hoped that he wouldn't notice the way you wiped your suddenly sweaty palms along your jeans, then stood up.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat. You alright if I—?”

“Mhm.”

Without the worry of Daryl bleeding out, you took your time scavenging the house. Checking every drawer and cupboard you could find, paying special attention to the kitchen’s supply. The sole bag you had left was relatively empty of provisions— it put you on edge, especially since you had no idea how long it would take for Daryl’s wound to heal. With your hunter out of commission and every store you’d come across in this town raided to hell and back, this kitchen was the only hope between you and starvation.

You found a couple cans of tuna, corn, and a quarter-full bag of rice. Of course, you didn’t have much water to cook it in, so the tuna and corn had to make do, for the time being. You found two bowls in the cabinet, wiped them of dust, and split an unappetizing mixture of the two between them. One bowl was substantially fuller than the other.

It was something, but not nearly enough to settle that uneasy feeling in your gut. What you needed was Daryl’s bag, probably still sitting in the backlot of the gas station you’d fled just an hour ago.

“Here.”

He took the bowl you offered. Of course, it was the one piled high.

“How much ya havin’?”

You shrugged. “I’m fine. Not too hungry.”

Lie.

His glare flickered up to you, drawn in by that raise in your tone.

“Weren’t you the one tha’ insisted on sharin’?” He raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes, then curled into the far corner of the couch. “I said I’m fine.”

“I know wha’ ya sound like when ya lie.”

Your expression fell. So did his. He felt bad— you could tell now that the blood loss drained him of whatever energy he needed to keep up his typical facade.

“Gimme your bowl.”

He tossed some more into yours, and you bit back your protests.

It was as if he could hear them, anyway.

“Ya gotta eat, too,” he reasoned while he spilt the portions evenly.

That and the rumble in your stomach were convincing, enough.

Distracted by his injury, Daryl hadn’t had the chance to even think about food, water, or anything else. His tone lowered after he took a much-needed bite.

“How much we got left?”

“Not enough.”

You took a bite too.

“I might go back tomorrow. See if I can find your bag—“

“— No.”

You swallowed. “It’s not far.”

His stern gaze settled on you.

“It ain’t worth it, neither.”

“The herd could’ve moved on.”

“Don’t matter. They’d still be close.”

You held your breath. Daryl was solid in his position, not even your voice of reason was able to budge him.

“’S too risky.”

“Alright,” you muttered, but weren’t convinced.

—

Getting Daryl to the single bedroom on the opposite side of the home was manageable now. He followed you, even if his steps were a bit heavier than usual, and collapsed on the bed. It was old, probably as old as the floral curtains covering the window. Springs squeaked underneath his weight, but he found a spot that was comfortable for both his bruised body and wounded shoulder.

Not long after, he was finally sleeping, with a soft glow of evening light cascading through the windows. There was maybe an hour before sunset, you estimated. Standing by the doorway, keeping an eye on him, you stared at the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The seconds ticked by, then minutes, and you started to feel like you were invading on his rest. Disturbing his privacy for the second time, today. With quiet steps, you walked down that thin hallway back to the living room.

The house was locked up tight, windows sturdy enough, and curtains drawn. It was safe.

Something still gnawed at you, though.

Your eyes flickered to the already dwindling supplies piled beside the couch— your bed for the night.

The anxious feeling in your gut laid even heavier at the sight, and that was just about all you could take, anymore.

Screw it.

You stuffed that pistol with four bullets left into your back pocket, then slipped out the front door. The walk wasn’t too long anyway. Even though you’d been in the thick of panic when you'd first approached the home, the curve of the road was memorable. You were able to sneak your way back to the gas station without coming across a single walker— biter— whatever.

The herd had moved on, it seemed. Bloody footprints scattered the road, painting a trail from where the dead had come from and where they’d gone, after a feast. Birdsong caught in the breeze, the early autumn air carrying a new chill to it; the third winter of this world was approaching, which meant this probably wouldn’t be the last time you’d have to scour a dangerous spot for supplies.

If you were lucky, you wouldn't have to do it alone, though.

You walked across the road, quiet steps landing on those dark stains. The front door was still open, a brighter trail of red drops leading out, like a warning sign. The thought of Emily and Ross’ cold bodies lying inside, likely half-eaten, made your stomach turn.

There wasn’t much to grab in the store, anyway. Neither of them had bags on their backs, and the station had already been scavenged by you and Daryl. You stuck to the brick wall, instead, jogging down the side of the building until the backlot was visible again.

A scan of the area was supposed to settle that quickening pace of your heart; confirm that the herd had moved on, their attack a moment of the past.

The sight of no stray biters wasn’t a relief when the backside of the building was painted in dried blood and guts. Right in the centre of the massacre lay a body, or what was left of it. Back lying in a pool of dark red, left arm practically chewed off at the elbow, ribs cracked open and picked to the damn bone.

A chunk of his cheek was missing, but you knew those empty eyes.

You blinked once— twice— then stepped out into the empty lot.

Daryl’s bag sat where you’d left it. You slid it over your shoulders and tried not to think about Lee’s corpse behind you. The smell of early decomposition. His wide-eyed stare burning into your back.

It worked— for about ten steps, but then you were folded over and vomiting. Tuna and corn, mixed with whatever else you ate for dinner yesterday. You couldn't even remember, it felt like weeks ago. Burning bile lingered in your mouth even after you’d managed to catch your breath and stand up again.

A fresh amber coloured the sky. Clouds were smudged with mellow pinks and dark blues as the sun inched closer and closer to the horizon.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve and took another step. You got farther that time, though the journey back was muddled with the taste of vomit and that bright glow of orange ahead. It felt like a daze, like you weren’t even in control of your body. Steps just happened, one after the other, without a thought to guide them. You hadn’t registered that you’d been following that same irregular stone path back until your glazed eyes landed on Daryl.

You could see him through the window, pacing the room in a huff.

At first, he didn’t see you.

Though, when you moved onto the porch, he seemed to hear the creek of old wood underneath those dreamlike steps of yours. When you opened the front door, he was already in the hallway, bow hanging from his right hand.

Your eyes narrowed on it. You mumbled, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Where the hell were ya?” he snapped.

You ignored him. Not on purpose, at least you didn’t think so. But that bow was all you could pay attention to right now, how lifting it would strain him further, maybe make him bleed again. It wasn’t like you’d had the supplies to stitch him up properly— you weren't a doctor, just a girl with a roll of gauze and some wishful thinking.

“It’s too heavy, you’ll hurt yourself again.” You stepped forward and grabbed the bow from his grip.

He let you take it, but didn’t seem to calm down, either.

“You hearin’ me?” he huffed. “I thought I told ya to stay!”

You blinked, his aggression clearing a bit of the fog. The crossbow propped up against the wall, you turned to face him and shook your head.

“We needed the food,” you said matter of fact as the bag slipped off your shoulders.

Daryl’s narrow glare met your vacant eyes, in the brief moment you let it. The hollow look on your face seemed to worry him, and his demeanour shifted just as you turned into the kitchen.

He followed.

“What’s wrong with ya?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shakin’.”

You inhaled a slow breath as if it’d help stop the trembling of your fingers. They felt cold, almost numb. It was nothing more than an annoyance, you convinced yourself, as you started to unpack the bag.

That stare of his burned into you, sizzling at the cool sheet of sweat coating your skin. He watched you fill the counter with one can, then another, then a bottle of water, and so on. A feeling of dread weighed in Daryl’s gut, spreading through him as every second ticked by, even lodging in his throat.

“Did ya get bit?” he rasped.

That made you pause. You placed the last can down and looked up at him with a tired, displeased expression.

“No.”

“Scratched?”

“The herd was gone.”

Remnants of the fog started to burn then, prickling at the corner of your eyes. You turned your back to Daryl, heading back into the living room where all you wanted to do was collapse on that old couch and sleep for the next day.

He wouldn’t afford you the luxury; a heavy hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to face him again. The first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes— and really, once he’d seen them, it was hard to notice anything else. You were crying— he didn’t even know why, and yet that dreadful feeling in his stomach twisted into guilt. Maybe he should’ve left well enough alone, maybe then his heart wouldn’t be pounding against his ribs; it was a good thing he wasn’t still bleeding because it’d be pumping out of him even faster now.

But you’d shown him care and understanding every step of the way, so maybe he couldn’t let it rest, anyway. He owed you. Even if you didn’t seem to know it, he did.

Daryl had never been one for comfort, though.

“You’re cryin’,” he said pointlessly.

You took a step back, shaking his lingering hand off your shoulder. Your lips parted, eyes narrowed. A page from his book, it seemed.

“You asked me how many people I killed, right?” You drawled. Slow and calculated, like even the effort to speak was too much.

“It's five now.”

His expression fell.

“I have killed more people today than I did in the last two years. I’m tired, Daryl. I’m hungry and you’re hurt and—“

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I—“ you practically whimpered, “I just need to sleep.”

You did. Floorboards creaking under your exhausted steps, until you reached the couch.

His eyes lingered on the wooden cabinets behind where you’d been standing, long after you had left.

—

For all the fuss of the night before, morning came smoothly. The sun’s rays were lazy as they reached the trees surrounding the porch. One was brave enough to reach your foot, warming the bare patch of skin between your sock and jean cuff.

The porch swing was creaky, but you kind of liked the noise. A soft squeak amongst quiet birdsong carried in the breeze. It was better than whatever odd silence Daryl had fallen into. And the sight of the desolate gravel road, in all its eeriness, was better than those sympathetic looks he’d been giving you all morning.

You could feel his concern, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. Whether he wasn’t willing or able, you weren’t sure, but your bet was on the latter; Daryl’s comforts were often awkward and blunt, like how he’d been in the pharmacy, or when you talked about your brother. It didn’t seem to matter to him that his apprehension made his words, somehow, more endearing when you could tell he was stewing about what to say— the right thing. That, when he finally did speak, you didn't care matter much how it came out, not when he tended to them with that much care and consideration.

Knowing all that, dwelling on it between dreamless sleep during a long night on the couch, only made that guilt inside of you fester.

So when you felt that stare dig into you again, all you wanted to do was apologize.

Those two words hung in the air, I’m sorry, between you and Daryl. He was lingering by the front door, leaning on the opposite end of the porch railing with his left foot crossed in front of the other. His good arm reached back to grab the rail.

He shook his head, “‘S fine. Shouldn’t’a pushed ya.”

“You were worried.”

He gave you a shy smile, perking up just the corner of his mouth.

“I’m alright,” you said.

“Alright.”

“I am,” you reiterated, feeling that hesitant look he had stain you.

He nodded again, and your mask almost slipped away. Why was it so hard to put on that false bravado around him? You’d practiced your whole life, after all.

There was something about the way his stare burned into you that just felt raw, not necessarily in a negative way. It was just an innate knowledge that he saw past you, and could pick out every bit of you, good or bad.

Maybe it had something to do with that first day he found you, broken at your lowest point. It’d exposed you to him, bare, and no matter how hard you tried to hold that confidence, he already knew what was lying beneath.

You looked back to the road.

“I found Lee’s body.”

The porch creaked underneath his shifting weight.

“That’s why I— why I came back the way I was.”

You clenched your jaw and composed yourself.

“When Bri— the Governor said we had to attack, they were the first to volunteer. Emily, Mitch, Ross." You swallowed. "Lee… he was hardened, but I thought he could be kind. He tried to help me.”

“Wha’d ya mean?”

“He understood why I didn’t want to fight. The others always thought I didn’t know how.” You shook your head. “But he used to tell me how I could be tougher. Brave.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed.

“Tha’s bullshit.”

He stood up straight, lifting off the rail to take a step closer to you.

“Helluva lot harder to ask questions first.” He shook his head. “Tha’ ain’t weak at all.”

A breeze shifted by as you met his eye. He had his colour back, most of it at least, and seemed to be growing back into his typical self. Surly, strong, sweet.

“I was a dumbass before,” he muttered, with a soft, almost shy look about him. “Thought if I didn’t throw the first punch I’d already lost. Sure as hell didn’t think I needed anyone.”

His eyes flickered over your tepid expression, then fell to his hands in front of him, intertwined.

“Till I realized it was jus’ a buncha bullshit Merle taught me.”

The swing creaked when you stood up. Rusted hinges whining as you stepped in front of Daryl and carefully wrapped your arms around him. His muscles turned to stone under your touch, no matter how gentle it was, but he didn’t pull away, either.

You took a deep breath. Daryl smelt like the forest, sweet and earthy.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, cheek pressed to his chest.

He shrugged softly before you felt the rumble of his voice. The tickle of his breath in your hair.

“Jus’ the truth.”

-> part 7

A/N: I love this part sm and I hope u did too! the next few should be interesting-- I have soooo many ideas and plans but, as always, I'll see where the story takes me. were getting into the thick of it now mwahahah

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon / reader #daryl / reader #daryl / you #daryl x you #Daryl Dixon / you #Daryl Dixon x you #twd #twd fanfiction #Daryl Dixon series #all you got

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dxmoness · 11 months

Note

HEY HEY-

( This is like an idea inspired from the rp chats I have with oc and ai Rezef- You already know who am I)

An engaged enemies to lovers with Rezef Hill? Where name comes from a noble household that has a great influence in the empire- That at first they were like on each other's throats but then they began warming up and become allies as they share the same goal of just wanting to overthrow and humiliate the heinreich duchy? But then meanwhile they continue with their plan to make Rezef the emperor with name's help, the two of them just happen to start falling in love but don't know how to bring that up due to the fear of rejection?

You can make it either a drabble or hc, Idm! And pls take your time <33

Your health matters 🫶

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈 | 𝐑. 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

[ AUTHOR NOTE ] Hope this doesn't flop 🥹

[ WARNINGS ] murder, hateful attitude + thoughts.

[ READER PRONOUNS ] she/her

[ WRITING STYLE ] desideria · long fic!

I hate you. That was all Name could think as she watched herself get married to him. The crowned prince stood in front of her, his eyes filled with absolute hatred.

"I do." Those words. Hollow, empty words. None of them meant it. When he leaned closer to kiss reluctantly, their lips interlocked in a barely meaning anything way of kissing.

The post wedding ball was a blur as the two were escorted for their first night together. The moment the door was closed, Rezef lashed out. Pissed off. She ducked his hit as he seemed aggravated.

"Looks like someone's mad." Name mocked as Rezef looked at her with pure hatred in his eyes. He steps closer before he grabs a fistful of her hair. "Shut up." He practically shouts as he pulled her hair. Tears swelled as she was completely in pain but her pride prevented her from those near waterworks.

Rezef smiles sadistically as he lets go of her hair before he sat down on the bed. His sapphire eyes ablaze with anger. "Now. Shall we discuss what we'll do in this relationship?" His tone meant no talking back as she could only so much as bob her head in assent despite wanting to lash out so much words towards him.

He grins with delight as he nods. "Good." He chuckles darkly. "As we both know we hate each other, I don't love you and you don't love me." She nods at this again. It was true. "Since this is the case we will only act like a couple when our parents are near. When they aren't, we'll act like complete strangers. Understood?"

She nods in affirmation. "Understood." Rezef smirked. "Very well, looks like we've come to an agreement now. Be a good doll and sleep on the floor tonight." Fuck you. She said mentally as she watched him lay down and get comfortable.

The next day she awoke from a very exhausting night. She barely got any sleep, she sighed as she rubbed her back.

This was gonna be a long life now that she knew what she was dealing with.

The good thing was that they rarely came close. Separate rooms, different schedules. Everything fit right where they should. No problem problems for everyday activities as they had different duties and they were rarely called for tea with emperor.

It was perfect. Until they both found the interest of taking down the Heinrich duchy a similar goal. This was when they decided to join forces. And only for this moment, once it was over they would go back to the old schedule.

That was what they originally thought. Because when they managed to figure out how to fit each other's talents and strengths to the puzzle. This started the relationship they thought they'd never make. The feelings they thought would never be brewed.

Rezef was quick to notice on his feelings when Name was around. He was more relaxed than before. It was if she lifted burdens of the things he couldn't do as she just fit right in. Watching her work her magic, theorizing and strategizing needed and unneeded attacks where enough to make him see that he needed her for the Empire's sake. Even for his own.

As for Name, Name found his actions ever so startling when all the bickering stopped. She found favour in his perfectionist views when it came to the number of agents to place in the mission or the people they should trust.

When it was over, could they possibly do what they promised to each other then? Just the small thought of returning to their once fruitless marriage tore each apart.

So they wouldn't. But they couldn't tell each other their reasons. In fear of being still hated by the other.

"Rezef?" Name looks up to see her husband by the door of her room. It was an odd sight. Much more unusual for the guards by the door, she thinks as she gets up.

Rezef watches her come closer. He does not deny that she was beautiful. He was lost in the thought of admiring her that he hadn't realized what Name asked. "What?" He blinks finally returning to reality.

"Are you okay?" She repeated the question. "Yes." "Then what are you-" Rezef couldn't hold himself any longer, his lips pressed on hers engulfing her into sharing a heated and passionate kiss. One that told both of them what they needed to know.

They were in love and there was no denying that now.

tagging, @sxnful-rage

#— story of the stars · fics 📖#• . desideria · long fics!#rezef hill x reader #rezef x reader #rezef hill #the villainess is a marionette x reader #the villainess is a marionette #THIS SUCKS ASS

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mysticmoaning · 1 year

Text

Tension - rab

Request:

Regulus Black and reader and they can be rivals whether it’s quidditch or academic pls

Description:

You and Regulus hate each other...mostly...always competing in everything. Now you’re forced into a train car together.

Warnings:

Slight angst / Fingers in V / Mentions of V Penetration / Virgin!Regulus / Abandonment? / Gif below the cut

A/N:

This ends very abruptly but there’s a point to that! (Lmk if you figure out what it is ;) ) I’m planning on at least one other part to this as I feel like I can get a lot more out of the reader & Regulus’ relationship with this concept. I know this part isn’t super rival-y but others will be more so...

Also ! I assumed this request was for smut but just in case, the smut starts after the cut so stop reading if you’re not comfortable ♡

xx Bly

"You've got to be kidding me...” You ran a hand through your hair as you left McGonagall’s office, groaning internally. She’d just doomed you to nine hours stuck in a train car with the person you hated most in the world...

Regulus Black.

As thrilled as you were to receive the position of Head Girl in your final year, it was made less special when Regulus managed to become your counterpart. Now as part of your duties you both had to take the train to King’s Cross to pick up a group of bloody muggle-born first years who’d managed to miss the trip. Normally you’d be more sympathetic, being muggle-born yourself, but forced to be with your rival for so long and finish your welcome-speech to inform the first years of everything they’d missed was the worst torture you could think of.

Over the years, your wit and determination had quickly marked you a top student at Hogwarts. You managed to be athletic as well, adopting the Keeper position on Y/H’s quidditch team. Perfectionism was your fatal flaw and forced you to do everything in your power to be the best at everything you did.

The only problem with that was Regulus’ ability to keep up, and even surpass you in some areas...dumb Seeker...

You might be less bothered by his talent if he wasn’t so caught up in his family’s ideas about bloodlines. There were even rumours (well, at this point they were more than rumours) that he was an official Death Eater ⎯ Dark Mark branded on his forearm and everything. Part of you was sympathetic because you’d heard about how shitty his family was from his older brother Sirius. On the other hand, Sirius hadn’t fallen in with that crowd and you couldn’t totally forgive his prejudice, regardless of where it was coming from.

“Y/L/N!” An unfortunately familiar voice called, bringing you to a halt to spin around with a little too much anger in your movements.

“What do you want, Black?” You sneered.

For a brief second, his face flickered with something you couldn’t read. He quickly recovered, eyebrows lowering in disgust. Despite being generally soft-spoken in nature, Regulus could easily slip into a snarky growl, something you suspected he’d learned from his parents. You’d noticed Sirius do it on occasion too.

“Since being in a train car together for any amount of time is the last thing either of us wants,” He gave you a pointed look, making you scoff, “I’ll finish up the first-year presentation.”

Despite the insult laced in his words, you were still surprised at the offer.

“Fine by me.” You shrugged, turning to get away from him as soon as possible. At the end of the corridor, the feeling of being watched made you glance back to where Regulus still stood, eyes trained on you.

✪✪✪✪✪

As the sun finally fell below the horizon outside the train window, you grew restless. You’d spent the last few hours distracting yourself with the passing scenery. No matter how many times you took this trip, you never grew tired of the beauty surrounding you.

Now, though, you had nothing to keep your mind off the speech you needed to give to the first years. There was no way Regulus was doing as good a job as you could...

Cursing your inability to let things go, you begrudgingly made your way back through the train to the car Regulus sat in. Before you opened the door, you glanced through the glass to catch a glimpse of him.

He sat alone in one of the seats to the left, his back to you but his focus clearly trained on the darkness enveloping the train outside. From the sliver of profile you saw, his lips were turned down, a light crease forming at the corner of his mouth.

Brushing it off, you slid the door open.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Your attention flickered back to him as he spoke, his words lacking the bitterness you expected.

A scroll and quill rested on the table in front of him, clearly unused.

“So you’ve been hard at work...” You scoffed, sliding into the seat beside him and gathering the material closer to you. “That’s what I get for trusting you, I guess.”

He rolled his eyes but his expression remained soft. What was going on with him?

If you were being honest, your back-and-forth with him was something you enjoyed. You didn’t like Regulus, of course, but you couldn’t ignore his easy appeal. His mess of black hair and those dark eyes trained on you always turned your frustration with him into something more. There was something in the way the anger in his face never reached his eyes that made you think maybe he felt the same way.

Sirius had been even more attractive, but he was too aware of it. Everyone flocked to him, wanted to be with him. And most of them succeeded. Regulus didn’t have the same reputation. In fact, you weren’t aware of him having any reputation at all. Sometimes you wondered...

“Y’ can do it if you want,” He picked at the sleeve of his jumper, one you were surprised to recognise was his brother’s. “You’ll probably do a better job anyway.”

Your shock at his almost-compliment sent your next question flying from your lips with more aggression than you intended ⎯ “What’s wrong with you?”

Regulus sighed and rolled his head back, angling himself towards the window again. It didn’t afford him the privacy he wanted, the reflection allowing you to see his brows knot together and his eyes close almost like he couldn’t stop them. When they opened, his gaze found yours, a blush finding its way up the pale skin of his neck onto his cheeks.

He whipped his head around, expression gone sour.

“You,” he sneered. “You’re my bloody problem. Everyone’s always up your skirt, kissing your ass because you can do a little magic. Y’ don’t even belong at Hogwarts.”

Your jaw clenched. You worked to quiet the voice in your head that said the same thing, glaring at him.

Suddenly, a loud screech bit into the air, the train stuttering as it slowed for something on the tracks. Your hands flew to hold the edge of the table. Regulus stuck one palm against the window, the other falling to grip your thigh. Whether it was to steady himself or you, you weren't sure. Either way, it sent a bolt of electricity to your core.

He didn’t seem to notice until the train resumed its pace, gently pressing you back into your seats.

His dark eyes flickered to where your skin met, his thumb absently brushing against the knitting of your thigh-high socks. He was hopeful you didn’t notice his trousers tighten.

You studied his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously, his breath catching in his throat. The dark rings of his irises grew smaller as his pupils dilated under his lowered brow. When he met your gaze to find you watching him, his flush returned and he started to move his hand. You quickly gripped his fingers in yours. The tension of earlier was easily lending itself to the new moment.

Raising your brows in question, he nodded softly.

You uncrossed your legs, guiding his hand between them until the pads of his fingers met the warm, damp fabric there. He bit down on his bottom lip to stop the audible intake of breath.

Pressing his fingers against your clothed wetness, you let out a soft moan. This encouraged him to press harder, moving in a gentle circle to feel more of the plump flesh there. You removed your own hand and Regulus took it as an opportunity to slip his fingers under your waistband, his eyes flicking down to where your skirt had flipped up and widening slightly. The sight of his hand clearly outlined in white cloth and the slick that coated his fingers as he trailed them through your folds had his cock pulsing, desperate for attention.

Meeting your eyes again, his skin grew pink with pleasure, your attention drawn to his lips as his tongue darted out to wet them.

You threw your head back as he inserted his middle finger into you, the heel of his palm brushing against your clit. When he paused his movements you shot him an annoyed glance. You were surprised to find his eyes full of concern, studying your face.

“’S good, Regulus, keep going,” You sighed out, unable to help the smile that lighted your face at his inexperience. The corners of his mouth quirked.

He slipped his finger further in, a soft groan sounding in his chest as his thoughts drifted to how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. Rocking his finger in and out, palm still pressed against your clit, his breathing stuttered. How bloody long had he been thinking about kissing you while he insulted you instead ⎯ and now here you were writhing under his touch? Un-fucking-believable. He knew he was supposed to hate you, but damn.

“Hmm, Reg,” You moaned as his pace quickened and he added a second finger. He couldn't help it, he leaned forward and caught your lips in his.

Tasting Regulus on your lips made you whine, his tongue dancing its way around yours. He separated from you for a moment, glancing from your eyes to your lips before connecting them again, his teeth running gently over your bottom lip. This elicited yet another moan from you.

He definitely had practice with his mouth...

The thought sent an unexpected sting down your throat to rest in your stomach.

Ignoring it, you focused again on his fingers - now three of them - pumping in and out of you. You gripped his wrist, pressing his palm down harder against your clit and bucking your hips to get the friction you needed.

As your moaning increased, Regulus moved his lips to your jaw. He nipped softly, moving down towards your neck and placing kisses below your ear. This had your pussy pulsing, clenching around his fingers as you whined his name.

Sensing you were close, he pulled his fingers from you, making you cry out at the loss. When he started using them on your clit, however, all sense fled from you.

Your hands flew down, one to grip the seat and the other on his own thigh, anchoring yourself as your orgasm rocked through you.

Regulus groaned as you came, burying his head in your neck. You squeezed his thigh harder as the heat traveled through you and he bit down on the soft flesh of your shoulder, only increasing your pleasure.

You both were breathing heavily, his face still buried in your neck. His hair was soft, the waves tangling in your fingers as you raised your hand from his leg to his head. A light laugh rumbled in your chest and you were about to speak when he suddenly started pushing you towards the end of the seat.

"Reg, what⎯”

“Get out.” He snapped, “Move.”

You stumbled to stand, almost tripping in his hurried rush. He forced past you, throwing you a not at all happy look. Stepping forward, you reached to grab his hand, confused at the sudden change in mood. He snapped it away and quickly left the train car, slamming the door behind him.

You stared back at the table, mouth open. His abandoned parchment had fallen into the other seat, his quill now on the floor. You picked up both and sat down, staring at the way he’d left.

After almost an hour, you realised he wasn’t coming back. So he is just a pureblood asshole after all...

You sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear and forcing yourself to focus on the first year presentation, trying to quell the twisting of your stomach and the ache in your chest.

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litaskick · 2 years

Text

my requests are open, request here - who i write for - request rules - cody rhodes masterlist

warnings: dom!cody, sub!reader, daddy kink, dirty talk, public sex, unsafe sex (pls don’t), arguing, angry sex, ass spanking, bondage, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), not proof reader, 18+ explicit content, minors dni

a/n: i feel like there are going to be a lot of smut requests in my inbox after this, and i’m fine with that

genre: smut

pairing: cody rhodes x fem!reader

summary: Cody and you get in a heated argument, which causes him to tie your wrists together with his tie and take you right then and there in the ring.

We Handle our Problems in the Ring

You were exhausted, he was exhausted.

You were stressed, he was stressed.

You were angry, and so was he.

You were both in a rather sour mood tonight. Being on management for AEW stressed both of you out, and that would put either of you in a mood sometimes. The one in the mood tonight just so happened to be Cody. And every so often, these moods led to fights between the two of you. Just like it had tonight, since practically the beginning of the show as well. He was pissed at you for accidentally messing up paper work for a huge new brand deal for the company. The two of you had bickered about it back and forth all night long since he had found out. But now that the show was over, and it was practically just the two of you left in the arena, he was really staring to argue about it. The two of you walked out to the now empty arena as he needed to retrieve some paperwork from the commentary table. You followed behind him, still trying to defend yourself.

"Cody, it was an accident, I can't fucking help that." You sighed, sitting on the apron of the ring as he scurried through the table.

You saw him roll his eyes angrily, accompanied by a grunt. Though no words escaped him, he was ignoring you. You just let out a scoff, shaking your head lowly. You fully slid into the ring, leaning against the ropes now. Cody finally found the paperwork that he was looking for, he came over and placed the folder on the apron of the ring, looking through it.

"Are you seriously ignoring me right now? Is this seriously where we're at?" You scowled, getting tired of the silent tension between the two of you.

Cody slammed the folder shut, making his way into the ring with you. "Yes, I am seriously fucking ignoring you right now. What else am I supposed to say? You fucked up one of our biggest brand deals yet just because you weren't paying attention to the paperwork. How could you screw up that bad?" Cody yelled, it was the first time he had raised his voice at you the entire night, and it only fired you up more.

"I've told you over and over again, it was a mistake. A stupid accident, am I not allowed to make mistakes all the sudden?" You yelled back at your husband, just as angry as he was.

Cody came closer to you, anger and exhaustion clear in his blue eyes. "Y/n, it was a huge deal, and you knew that. Why weren't you paying more fucking attention?" He shouted at you, his hands flying up into the air in frustration.

You were at your last straw of the night. "If it was so fucking important, why the hell didn't you take care of it Mr. executive vice president. If it was that important, why didn't you take full control of the whole thing. Why push something so important onto me? It's your own damn fault for not talking care of it yourself." You screamed, your eyes showing crystal clear frustration.

Something in Cody snapped when those words came out of your mouth. You saw the way he held still for a moment, before ripping his tie off angrily, walking over to you faster than ever. He took both of your wrists in one hand, wrapping his blue tie around your wrists with his other hand, and finally binding your wrists together with his torn off tie. For a moment you felt everything freeze, even though all of it happened so fast. Him ripping off his tie like that caught you off guard, he never got that angry, it was almost frightening in a way. But at the same time, you found it very attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by his actions. You were quickly snapped out of your haze as you watched your husband rip off his plaid blazer, angrily throwing it onto the floor of the ring. Cody was heated, you could tell by his actions. The way he was breathing heavily, the look in his eye, and the way he looked at you with frustration, but also lust. You knew what you had gotten yourself into now, and you weren't complaining. He decided to undress you himself, you kicked your shoes off as he slipped off your dress, and slipped down your panties. He unclasped your bra, taking the undergarment into his teeth before finally throwing it onto the ground with the rest of the discarded clothing. Cody viewed your nude self in front of him, before finally stripping himself. He harshly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor, kicked off his shoes, and let his pants fall to the ground. Cody was only left in his boxers, while you were left completely nude. He cornered you into the corner of the ring, your bare back was pressed against the turnbuckles of the ring.

"Someone needs to teach you how to do fucking behave." Cody growled in your ear. You felt your pussy get even more wet with the words he spoke.

But, you felt unsure about where you two were about to have sex.

"Cody, are you sure about doing it here, I mean people might-" You spoke, stuttering over your words a bit.

Cody shook his head, a toothy grin on his face before finally falling into a serious look, he looked you in the eyes. "That's not my name, princess." Cody whispered seductively.

You gulped, there was no changing his mind, you were about to do it right here, right now.

"What's my name?" Cody asked you.

"Daddy." You spoke quietly.

"You're going to have to say it louder than that, baby." He told you.

"Daddy, that's your name." You repeated yourself, louder this time.

"That's right baby, and what does daddy not like?" Cody questioned, a smirk on his face.

"Brats." You answered.

"And what have you been tonight?" He asked you yet another question.

"I've been a brat." You spoke truthfully.

"Yep, and what happens to brats that misbehave?"

"Daddy punishes them." You answered.

"That's right, I punish them. And that means you're in for it tonight, baby." Cody growled in your ear, giving you a surprise slap on the ass.

You moaned in surprise, the pain of the slap quickly turned to pleasure.

"You like that?" Cody questioned, giving you another slap on the ass, harder this time.

You moaned again at the contact.

"You're a dirty whore who likes it when daddy spanks her on the ass, huh?" He spoke, lightly biting your earlobe.

"Yes daddy. I'm a whore." You moaned.

"Damn right you are." Cody said, continuing to spank you on the ass with one hand, as he used his other to pull his boxers off. His hard cock springing free from the tight material.

"Put your legs around my waist." He demanded.

You did as he said, quickly rushing to wrap your legs around him. Cody pushed you into the turnbuckles even more, and without you expecting it, he slammed his dick inside of you, not even giving you time to adjust to his size. The pain at first caused you to start crying, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. Cody's pace never faltered, brutally slamming in and out of your tight pussy. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, your tears still falling from the sudden feeling. Cody used your position to his advantage, connecting his mouth to your shoulder, lightly biting and sucking on the exposed skin. You whimpered at the sudden sensation.

"You like that, huh?" Cody grunted, still thrusting in and out of you.

"Yes, sir." You whimpered.

You felt his lips form into a smirk as they were still on your skin. His lips moved over to your neck, starting to bite and suck on different areas. But soon enough, he found your sweet spot, sucking and biting on it more than any of the other areas. This got a moan out of you. Cody grunted in your ear with each thrust.

"Put your head up, princess. I want to see your face while I dumb fuck you." Cody whispered.

You did as he asked, bringing your head back up, looking him in his blue, lust filled eyes. As soon as the eye contact was made, your husband started thrusting in and out of you even faster and harder, if that was even possible.

"Shit." You cursed.

"Fuck princess, tell me how good I'm making you feel." Cody groaned, clearly getting close to his climax.

"You're making me feel so good, daddy. F-fuck, so good." You cried, tilting your head back.

"That's right, baby." Cody said huskily.

He used one of his hands to start messaging your ass, his other hand continuing to hold you up. You felt the familiar warmth and tension begin to form in your stomach.

"You're such a dumb slut for this dick." Cody growled.

You only whimpered in response to his words.

"Daddy, I'm so close, so close." You moaned.

"Me too, princess. Just hold on a minute for daddy." Cody groaned.

You noticed his thrusts begin to become sloppy. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echoed through the empty arena, followed by the sounds of your moans and Cody's guttural groans and grunts. You felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten.

"I'm about to come, f-fuck." You moaned.

"Me too, baby. Be a little cum slut for daddy, come on." He grunted.

That's all it took for you. You felt your walls begin to tighten around Cody's cock, the coil in your belly snapping. Cody let out a loud groan as your walls tightened around him, signaling his own orgasm. Soon enough, his warm, liquid seed was shooting inside of you, making your orgasm even stronger. Cody held you head into his chest as your orgasm continued, you chanted his name like a prayer, and finally your own warm liquid was splattered on his member. You two stayed like that for a moment, still buried inside one another, your head on his chest, your sweaty bodies still tangled together, both of you trying to catch your breath. Eventually, you lifted your head back up, your eyes meeting his own blue ones, his eyes were no longer filled with anger and frustration though, they were soft, looking over your face so delicately. He put you down, your feet now touching the ground as he untied his tie from around your wrists. He brought you in for a kiss, his hand placed delicately on your cheek.

"You okay?" Cody asked, checking up on you, bringing your foreheads together.

"Yeah." You nodded gently.

There was silence between the two of you for a moment.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, it's not that big of a deal." Cody apologized, stroking your hair with his rough hands.

"It's okay." You assured him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, tracing his neck tattoo with your finger.

"I love you, darling." He told you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too, so much." You responded, running your hands through his short, bleached hair.

Cody kissed away some of the stray tears from earlier on.

"Let's get cleaned up." Cody whispered.

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes fanfic #cody rhodes imagines #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes oneshots #cody rhodes smut

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pumpkinbirth · 2 years

Note

Hii!! Hope you are doing fine!

Can you pls do 9 with birth denial if you are still taking requests?

one sentence birth prompts

#9 “I’m not having my baby here!”

"I really think you should reconsider--"

"And I really think you should back off, already," I replied, starting for the sidewalk once I confirmed that my Uber was rolling up. The nurse that had been badgering me to stay made one more last ditch effort.

"You're already pretty advanced into your labor, it's for the best if you--"

"Look, you've made your point, and I already told you that hospitals make me really uncomfortable. I'm not having my baby here." I turned before she could try convincing me any further, sliding into the backseat of the Uber. Once I gave the driver my address and we started off, I finally felt like I could relax.

"So, uh...not to be nosy, but why exactly are you leaving the hospital if you're gonna have a baby?" the driver asked, glancing back at me at a red light. I sighed, recounting my turbulent day.

"It was all my stupid coworkers fault, she'd caught me in the middle of a contraction at work and immediately dialed for an ambulance. I would've put up more of a fight if I wasn't so caught off guard by the whole thing, but once I actually got to the hospital the anger kicked in, and I just...I had to get out of there."

"Huh...I guess whatever works for you. Just so we're clear, though, you better not pop that kid out in my backseat. Just had this thing detailed." he replied none too delicately.

I reassured him that wouldn't be a problem. I was also lying through my teeth.

The longer we drove, the closer together my contractions became. I did my best to keep those quiet, and what few whimpers and moans I let out seemed to go unnoticed. I nervously ran my hands over my tense and taut belly as we came to a stop, nestled nicely in what was turning into bumper to bumper traffic. After a few more minutes of stop and go, the driver spoke up again.

"You holding up back there?"

"Nngh...n-never better." He looked over his shoulder to see me, sweating and flushed, clearly in the middle of a fresh contraction.

"Oh nu-uh, we agreed, remember? Absolutely NO having babies in my fuckin' backseat!"

"I-I've got it under control, promise." I managed, earning an irritated scoff as he turned his attention back on the road. He didn't see me move my hand up under my dress, worriedly pressing at my laboring pussy through my panties, hoping to keep my impatient baby at bay.

"J-just wait a little more, please..." I silently begged, only to be rewarded with another contraction.

#pumpkin answers #pumpkin writes #pregnancy kink #birth kink #labor kink #birth denial

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mrs-jake-blues · 3 years

Text

Bruh the way John leans on the counter in the Olympia Restaurant skits…ily Pete

#**** me on the counter Pete #snl #john belushi #olympia cafe #Pete dionisopoulos #and he always folds his arms and his sleeves are rolled up #and his hairy forearms drive me crazy #and his hands oh my gosh #and his anger management problems like pls take your anger out on me #in a seggsy way #by ****ing me on the counter

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hyeque · 2 years

Text

valentines makeup [nsfw]

synopsis: your fave arrives home late for valentine's day. he decides to make it up to you.

featuring: f!reader x haikyuu boys

notes: this can be whoever you imagine it is to be. happy belated valentine's day! (pls pretend i didn’t repost this like a week later ahaha)

warnings: female body parts, manhandling, pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex, bad title names

shutting the front door as quietly as he can, he kicks off his shoes. with the roll of his shoulders he can feel the stress of work and other things fading. whenever he can come home to your shared living space he can forget about everything involving any and all sort of problems-

"you're late."

except for your wrath.

he hasn't even gotten a chance to turn around fully, but when he does, you're a sight for sore eyes. you're all dolled up in lingerie, make-up done and hair perfectly set. the sheer lacy robe drapes over your body, barely concealing the snug fit of the bodysuit you have on.

you’re going to be the death of him.

"baby..." he breathes, stepping towards you, still drinking in your figure. "i'm sorry i'm late, you know how things get at work. i sent you a text to let you know i'd be back late." he explains, trying not to anger you any further. It doesn’t work.

"i don't care." you huff, arms crossed. he can't help but trail his eyes to your cleavage and how it sits pushed up. "we made plans and you ruined them."

your boyfriend's eyes scan the dining room table where you had set a candle-lit dinner. his and your favorite foods were set up and he can't help but feel shame. he hadn't meant to leave you alone for so long. and he knew that you were looking forward to spending this time with him. it had been so long that it was just the two of you.

he places the giant, beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table along with the extensive tiffany bags on the floor before turning to take you in his arms. you're visibly shaking and he holds you tighter, trying to get you to calm down.

"you left me here by myself..." you mumble into the crook of his neck. tears sting your eyes but you manage to blink them back.

"i know. i'm so sorry sweetheart. you worked so hard to make all of this. you must be tired." he kisses your forehead, cheeks, neck...his kisses growing sloppier and wetter as he moves down your body. he's kneeling in front of you now, kissing down your stomach. his hands never leave your body as he explores you like a newfound gem.

your breathing hitches, body twitching in reaction to his touch. "i'm...i'm mad at you, yanno."

a smirk is plastered on his face. no matter how mad you were, your body would always respond to his touch. he can feel how needy you are just under his fingertips.

"let me make it up to you then," he says before he's kissing your clothed nether lips. his tongue swipes out to collect the dampness that's leaked through the lace underwear and he groans slightly, “look so good and taste just like it to. i think i need more.”

he knows flowers and jewelry won’t cut it for now. he has to spoil you in a different way.

your boyfriend sweeps you up in his arms with no warning, causing you to squeal, clinging onto his broad shoulders and beefy arms.

"i'm not going to drop you, i promise," he assures, opening the door to your shared bedroom. he places you gently on the bed before he's kneeling in between your legs again. wasting no time, he rips the part covering your cunt.

you gasp. "i just bought this you asshole!"

"don't worry, i'll buy you another one. i'll buy you all the clothes you want me to fuck you in." he replies before attaching his lips to your pussy.

he licks a wet stripe and moans, "best pussy on earth," his large hands grab your thighs and throws them over his shoulders. he's burying his face impossibly closer to you and sucking the bud, making sure not one drop of your juices is wasted.

"ha, mmm! feels good!" any thoughts of arguing with him are gone as he eats you out like a starved man. this is the best way he knows how to apologize and you can't complain. not when he always does such a great job.

"yeah? you look so pretty right now. need you to come all over my face. think you can do that for me?" he asks, looking up at you through his lashes. it almost makes you mad how pretty he looks eating you out.

you nod furiously and your hips move to grind up into his face. his grip on your thighs is deadly, bruising probably as he damn near batters your clit with his tongue and now fingers. you're rapidly approaching your high and you whine, letting him know that.

"come on, pretty girl. need you to squirt all over my face. need you to make a mess of yourself." he slaps your ass and that's what sets you off, body seizing as your orgasm consumes your body. your legs tremble around his head and involuntary squeeze him. he feels like he's in heaven when your juices spray him, allowing him to lick and slurp you up.

his thumb rubs circles into your skin and he waits for you to calm down. when he finally pulls away his chin is dripping with your essence and he grins. he sits up before wiping his face taking time to admire your trembling form.

your eyes can't help but slide down to the front of his pants. the sight of his painfully hard cock straining against the material has you squeezing your legs together and you let a soft whine escape your throat.

if he noticed your reaction, he says nothing as he leans down to capture your lips into a kiss again. you grip tightly onto his shirt, eagerly kissing him back. his large hand holds your face and you feel him nip at your bottom lip before you open it, letting his tongue slip inside. a warm feeling engulfs you as you taste yourself on his tongue.

he pulls you onto his lap, the bulge from his pants grazing against you. you mewl, pleasure igniting through you as you rut harder against him.

“shit baby, just like that…” he grabs your hips and drags you across, your clit catching onto the material in the best way possible. you shamelessly leave behind a wet patch on his pants and decide to lean into his neck. you leave bite marks along the column of his neck, making him groan your name out loud.

your hand palms him, feeling the twitch of his cock beneath his clothes. your palm meets his crotch in a way that nearly has him jerking himself in your hand.

“sweetheart if you keep doing that i’m going to cum.” he hisses, tugging your hand away. he flips you over so that you’re on your back, legs spread out for him and presenting your cunt like a gift.

"please. want you." you reach for him and claw at his clothes. it isn't fair to you that he's wearing so many.

he tilts his head to the side, feigning confusion. "what do you 'want', baby?" his hand palms himself through his pants shamelessly, looking at you right in the eyes.

"you know i'll give you anything you want if you just ask, right?" he quirks a brow, his amused eyes awaiting your response.

you feel yourself becoming shy but your neediness helps you vocalize your needs. "need your cock. want you to fuck me. want to feel all of you."

"is that right?" he hums, his hands unbuttoning his shirt. his toned chest comes into view, followed by his chiseled abs. the sight has you drooling and you wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes.

you grab a hold of his pants and hastily start to remove them. he clicks his tongue, pulling back your hands. you pout and whine, throwing a small tantrum. crying that you need him right now and for him to hurry up.

he seems displeased with your attitude and leans over you, hand enclosing over your neck. “be a good girl for me and be patient, yeah? you’re doing so well it would be a shame for you to start acting like a brat.” his eyes darken at the word and his hand tightens slightly on your neck, making you quiet down immediately.

he pulls back and stands up. he takes off his pants and briefs, his length slapping loudly against his stomach. he sighs when he finally strokes himself. "don’t worry. this fat cock is all yours baby, so let me take great care of you. just lay there and look pretty for me while i fuck your brains out."

you squirm in your spot on the bed and that makes him laugh. his figure looms over you as he aligns his cock with your entrance. a primal urge from within him stirs when he looks at your tiny pussy next to his fat cock. it never fails to amaze him how you make him fit every time. you really are his perfect little cocksleeve whore.

his tip breeches the tight ring of your hole and his mouth falls open as your warmth encases him with each inch disappearing in you.

“fuck you’re tight. sucking me in and milking me so well at the same time…” he breathes. he finds himself taking his time, wanting to memorize the feel and shape of your creamy cunt. he pushes in further and your hand reaches for his, grasping it tightly.

“it’s okay, i got you. you’re doing so good sweetheart. we’re almost there.” he coaxes, kissing your knuckles. he rocks his hips slightly and before you know it, his balls are pressed against your plush ass.

his eyes flutter close and he looks like he’s achieved pure bliss. “oh fuck. missed this pussy so damn much.” a growl escapes him as he jerks his hips a little.

you cry, and it’s only then do you realize it’s all too much, you missed being filled up like this and you can’t help but convulse around him because of that. he’s caught off guard by this and groans, feeling you become tighter and massaging his cock.

he pants, rubbing circles into your hip before huffing out a laugh. “oh baby, did you just cum? did you cum from just me putting my dick in you?” he coos, caressing your face. there’s an arrogant look on his face and you hide shyly in the crook of his neck.

“don’t be shy, think it’s fucking hot how your pussy can’t get enough of me. must’ve missed me too. that’s why it’s mine, right?” he slips his hand over your clit again. your breath hitches as sensitivity takes over.

“y-yea, all yours…” you mumble, eyes hazy. he can’t get over how pretty you look, he hasn’t even played with you that much but you’re already looking partially fucked out. no wonder he’s obsessed with ruining you.

he finally moves his hips, taking time to adjust you for you to be comfortable.

“please move, need more.” tears brim your eyes and you reach up to look at him. “please fuck me hard.” you beg. “want to forget everything.”

how can he say no to your cute face? the sight of your pretty tears going straight to his cock too. “if my baby wants to be fucked dumb, then i can give that to her.” he says, thumbing the apple of your cheek.

he fucks you through your sensitivity, and the sound of his balls meeting your ass fills the room. your whines get increasingly louder as the brutal force of his thrusts sends you moving back each time. the moment his eyes fall on your figure beneath him, he thinks about how lucky he is to have you. you look so beautiful sprawled out, taking him however he wanted to take you.

“so so pretty. so beautiful like this for me.” he praises, and feels your cunt squeeze around him at hearing that. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” he grabs hold of your hands before lacing your fingers with his.

you babble in response, gushing out more juices around him which creates a loud squelch. it drives him crazy how much of a mess you always make for him.

he kisses your neck and jaw, humming with satisfaction. “you ready for your other valentines gift? yeah? ready for me to fill up this pussy with my cum?”

“please! want it so badly please fill me up!” you lock your legs around his waist. he grunts, becoming impossibly closer to you, and changes his angle, hitting that one spot you love so much.

“ha, fuck,” he groans, “want to see you stuffed full and dripping with my cum.” he pins your hands above your head before he’s near grinding into your core, adding his fingers for good measure.

“f-fuck yes, just like that! feels so g-good!” you squeal, and his cock throbs harder at seeing your eyes roll back.

“good fucking girl, taking me so well.” he rolls his hips and moves them faster. “please cum for me again princess, need to feel you cum on my cock.”

you nod furiously, feeling yourself reach your climax again. you’re chanting his name when your release finally hits and that causes him to come undone as well. his moans are loud as he spills into you, the amount seemingly endless you feel his cock throb from inside of you.

he holds you, planting kisses all over your face which makes you giggle.

“happy valentine’s day, baby. i love you.” he snuggles his face in your neck, smiling.

your words slur in response but he understands well what you want to say.

slowly, he pulls out of you, his eyes going immediately to in between your legs. he swears under his breath as he sees his load spill out of you. he can never get used to the sight. he takes two fingers and shoves the remaining amount back into you. you twitch slightly at his touch when he cleans you up with a wet cloth.

he plants a soft kiss on your forehead and lips. “you did so well. you feeling okay? it wasn’t too much?” he pushes back your hair and his eyes scan you with concern. “tell me if it hurts somewhere.”

“n-no i’m fine…thank you. i love you so much.” you mumble and look at him with wide eyes, love and admiration fill them and he realizes his baby is back. your brain can’t even remember why you were upset in the first place.

mission accomplished. your boyfriend smirks as you lay back on his chest. maybe he would fuck you dumb more often to make you forget.

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golden-barnes · 3 years

Text

Audacity

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky has a long list of reasons to hate John Walker. But the fake Captain America deciding to flirt with you, definitely takes the cake.

Category: Smut 18+

Warning: Jealous Bucky is just soft dom! Bucky, dirty talk, penetrative sex, slight chocking, closet sex, and just John Walker being annoying

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: trying out this new format bc I liked the way it look when I did the Spencer Reid fic. A small spoiler warning for the newest FATWS episode but other than that it’s like an AU bc this really has nothing to do with yesterdays’ episode. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

There’s a lot to hate about John Walker. The fact that he is trying to replace Steve as a cheap version of Captain America. His stupid face and the way he handles the shield. Even the way he speaks comes off as pretentious and arrogant.

But what really made Bucky seethe with anger is the fact that his little beady eyes would not stop looking at you. Undressing you with his eyes. Taking in every move and gesture you made. It made Bucky’s blood boil. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist. How haven’t you noticed his insisting fucking starring?

“Can you chip your teeth? Because I’m pretty sure you might by how clenched your jaw” Sam said, patting Bucky on the back. He just rolled his eyes but decided not to say anything.

There was nothing that can be done. They made a silent pack not to anger the imposter. The government had asked Sam, Bucky and you to help out with a smuggling ring that they have discovered and low and behold, their little Captain America got his ass handed to him. They basically begged them to help. Bucky almost screamed a Fuck no into their faces but you managed to hold him off from punching the soldier that appeared at your apartment.

You turned around and bent over to pick up something. You were unaware that the fake Captain America licked his crusty lips while looking at you. He kept eying you like a piece of meat. Bucky rolled his eyes again and turned to Sam who was quietly reading the reports.

“Can I punch him?” Bucky whispered to Sam.

“Do you want your pardon to be revoked?” Sam said to him, not even looking up from the reports.

“There’s nobody here. Y/N won’t say anything. You definitely won’t mind.” Bucky whispered, glaring at the blond man that kept staring at you. You clearly didn’t give a shit about him. Therefore, why was he still looking at you?

Sam rolled his eyes at his ex-assassin friend. “Yeah, and later we can steal the shield.” Sam looked up from the reports and pushed them to the side.

“Exactly! Yeah, now that’s a plan.” Bucky said excitedly, standing up from his chair trying to make his way to John before being stopped by Sam, who grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him back into his chair. Before Bucky could protest, he heard you whistle at them.

“Hey, guys! I think I have something.” You said. The three men surrounded you, while you were explaining how you found out the new base location for the smuggling ring.

Bucky tried his best to focus on what you were saying and your explanation, but he couldn’t help but notice that the Kmart version of Captain America was inching closer and closer to you. Didn’t this man have a wife? Bucky swore he read that somewhere. Why does he keep staring and getting closer to you?

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am.” The jackass said, when he “accidentally” bumped into you, he grabbed your waist and forearm to stabilize you.

“It’s okay.“ You told him, and let out a soft chuckle. Bucky felt his pen explode in his hand. The three of you turned to the pouty super soldier who just rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the schematics.

You knew something was up with Bucky. He didn’t say anything. Not after the pen exploding incident. Not even when you were joking around with Sam. He loved making witty comebacks to your jokes. It was your thing.

But maybe it was John Walker’s presence that made it uncomfortable for him. You knew Bucky hated the guy, mostly cause he took Steve’s spot without earning it. But there was something more to this. Bucky has always had a staring problem, but the number of sharp glares he has been sending to Walker has been enough to alert anyone. You couldn’t comfort him, not without making it super apparent that you are dating. And Bucky had already expressed that he doesn’t want to publicize it unless it’s only Sam that’s around.

“Agent Y/L/N, I think I found something,” Torres said, signaling to you to go follow him upstairs. You took one last look at Bucky, who was still glaring at the oblivious John Walker.

“Damn, I don’t know how you guys get any work done with that around you all the time,” John said, staring at you walking up the stairs. More specifically, staring at your ass.

Bucky looked at Sam, almost begging him to let him punch the douchebag that is this man. But Sam gripped his forearm. Bucky will not lose his pardon like this.

“How about we focus on the damn mission?” Bucky almost growled. John Walker put his hands up.

“I’m sorry man. It’s just- look at her.” John sat back and leaned into his chair. From the distance, he could see you talking to Torres.

“C’mon man. You asked us for our help but we aren’t here to do all the work.” Sam said trying to be the peacemaker between the super-soldier with a murderous gaze and the soldier with the wondering eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah sorry.” John said trying to go back to the records. You were descending from the stairs and walking over to them. John brought his attention back to you. The way your hips would sway when you walked. The confidence in every step. Everything Bucky loved, and apparently fucking John did too.

“Guys, I think we need to rest for today. I am a little bit burned out. I think we all are.” You said, with your hands on your hips. Bucky felt his heart clench, you did look tired. Especially because you were almost doing all the work and piecing all of the clues.

“That’s an incredible idea.” Sam said stretching in his chair. He also looked tired. It made Bucky feel bad that he has been focusing all his energy on glaring and not helping out. He almost felt guilty.

Almost because a surge of rage flows through him again. John “Can’t take a hint” Walker smirked at you while you were grabbing the files that were on the table.

Bucky didn’t even give you a chance to say goodbye. To Sam or the annoying motherfucker that made Bucky want to break rule number 2.

“Woah, Buck. what are you doing?” You said while the brunet dragged you around the base. His grip on your forearm was hard but not enough for it to hurt. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you, not in any way you wouldn’t like it.

There was something about how Bucky was walking, the silence, the way he was searching for something but never letting go of you.

Bucky opened up a closet door.

“Get in, doll.” He whispered in your ear, in a low deep voice. You let out a gasp, feeling goosebumps all over your body. You looked at Bucky in the eyes, and you knew he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. You entered the closet space without protesting.

It was a small storage closet. It barely had anything in it so you felt cramped. You turned to Bucky, while he closed the door. The man stalked towards you and you walked backward till your back hit the wall. Bucky had you cornered, and you didn’t mind it.

“Did you have fun, doll?” Bucky said, getting close to your face. His hands went to your hips, pulling you towards him.

“Buck, what are you talking about?” You whispered to him. Bucky rolled his eyes and took one of his hands off your hips. Placing it on your neck, lightly applying some pressure to it. You gasped at his touch, he chuckled a bit at your reaction.

“C’mon darling. Did you have fun playing around with the imposter Captain America? I mean he had fun looking at you. So I’m assuming that you had fun being looked at.” He said, with his hand still on your neck and his face inches away from your face. You looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh, you didn’t notice that. Well, I did. Maybe I should teach you who do you belong to. Would you like that sweetheart?” He said, his breath tickling your lip. You nodded, breathless. Bucky smiled at you.

The hand that was around your neck, went to your chin. Grabbing it and pulling you closer so that your lips would meet. His hands started to wander across your body, while yours looped around his neck.

Your kisses started to grow hungrier, more desperate. As if Bucky spotted kissing you, you would fade away. His hands reached the zipper of your pants and pulled it down. Not even breaking from your kiss, Bucky managed to push your pants down. You break from your kiss to get out of them, while Bucky took off his pants and underwear.

He didn’t wait. He pushed you softly back on the wall and started to leave kisses and soft bites all over your neck.

“Jump, baby girl,” He said softly against your skin, patting your butt.

And you did just so. Wrapping your legs around his waist, with one of his hands on your ass and another moving your panties to the side.

“Hold that there, baby. Let me make you feel so good.” Holding his neck with one hand, you moved another hand to hold your panties to the side, to make it easy for him.

“Good girl.”And with one thrust, he was inside you, hitting all the spot. You moaned and gripped the back of his neck tightly.

“Like that doll? Can anyone else do this to you uhn? C’mon doll give me everything you got.” With every word that came out of his mouth, he would thrust hard and deep into you. You felt lightheaded. Your legs tightening around his waist but his thrust wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck, Buck. Don’t stop.” You gasped. Bucky kept kissing your neck. Overloading your senses. You were close, you knew it. Bucky knew it. You could feel him grin against your skin.

“Who makes you feel this good, doll?” He asked. You gasped at his sudden change in pace. He started to thrust more desperately, less controlled. He was close too.

“You. Fuck, only you.Shit, Bucky. I’m going to cum.” Bucky smirked at you.

“Then cum, doll.” Bucky silenced your cries with his lips. Still thrusting into you, letting you ride your high and getting to his. And that wouldn’t be long.

With one final thrust, Bucky came. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and let you down.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You said, putting on your pants.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He smiled at you. You slapped his chest lightly, which made him laugh.

“I hope you realize that I would never go with discount Captain America over there.” You joked which made Bucky laugh even harder. You both were dressed and tried to look as decent as you could to leave the closet and the base.

“Let’s hope that fucking in an army base won’t be the reason you lose your pardon.” You said, grabbing Bucky’s hand, to give him reassurance. He gave you a smirk.

“Maybe if we let them watch, they won’t take it away,” Bucky replied to you, giving you a wink.

“Yeah and get John Walker to join would also help your case.” Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked at you.

“Oh, you are gonna get it when we get home.” Now it was your turn to wink at your boyfriend.

“I’m hoping I do.” Bucky shook his head but pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, walking towards the exit of the base. Confident that John Walker couldn’t take you away from him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #winter soldier x reader

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chanluster · 3 years

Text

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan @minaamhh @leescrt

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“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face.

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation.

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy.

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart.

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening.

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit.

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.”

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?”

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?”

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.”

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs.

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination.

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible.

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?”

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels.

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue.

Chan himself used this system — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head.

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?”

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.”

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!”

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face.

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names.

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration.

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched.

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs.

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass.

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist.

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go.

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled.

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours.

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth.

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not.

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of.

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust.

You wanted this as much as he did.

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel.

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him.

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit.

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on.

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing.

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve.

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you.

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs.

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more.

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious.

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation.

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation.

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth.

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin.

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked.

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest.

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants.

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes.

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers.

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big.

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him.

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost.

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron.

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you.

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway.

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds.

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you.

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence.

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe.

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were.

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter.

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?”

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.”

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms.

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets.

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before.

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension.

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS:

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful

“This asshole,” you muttered.

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS:

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing.

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation.

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness.

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant.

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress.

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats.

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung.

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began.

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future.

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.”

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned.

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over.

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances.

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.”

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank.

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.”

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more.

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?”

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful.

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.”

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?”

“You might have to put a hold to that.”

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take.

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind.

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go.

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal.

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement.

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered.

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly.

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?”

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free.

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour.

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams.

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat.

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing.

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable.

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches.

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table.

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head.

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party.

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves.

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him.

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied.

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication.

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon.

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back.

Why did you even come here?

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him.

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings.

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child.

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration.

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears.

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.”

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer.

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes.

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?”

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.”

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time.

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends?

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again.

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.”

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms.

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual.

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?”

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?”

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again.

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you.

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand.

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.”

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare.

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!”

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!”

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you.

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him.

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings.

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin.

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?”

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear.

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor.

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face.

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed.

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!”

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal.

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud.

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day.

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his.

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing.

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability.

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more.

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire.

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut.

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago.

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy.

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem.

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets.

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it.

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this.

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers.

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight.

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world.

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you.

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely.

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer.

Bang Chan, your very best friend.

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets.

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first.

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again?

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness.

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers.

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration.

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth.

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked.

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused.

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you.

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!”

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. ��You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips.

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan dark hours #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard hours

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astrohae · 3 years

Text

A Dragon’s Greed

pls don’t yell at me about my unfinished series. im trying. take this instead.

dragon king!bakugou X courtesan!reader

gnc reader as per the usual

Focus. You scold yourself. You're here to entertain, not to wordlessly flirt with the princess's fiance. But what can you say? You've always had a type, and barbarian warlords fell right into your favorite category. The fact that he seemed utterly entranced by you, well that wasn't your fault. Every time you turned your head over your shoulder, you caught his eyes over your half veil and he never looked away, not even for a moment.

The princess didn't seem happy about this, sat next to the king, and huffing when her attempts at catching his attention fell flat. Serves her right for always bullying you and being such a spoiled brat.

Though, to be honest you wouldn't wish marriage to Bakugou Katsuki, the King of Dragons, merciless warlord, upon anyone.

Sure he was attractive and rich, and powerful, but you'd heard horror stories of what he had done on the battlefield.

When Bakugou started looking to new lands to conquer, you country's king had offered up his daughter like a sacrificial lamb to the barbarian in order to forge a treaty and protect his people through political marriage. King Bakugou's sexual conquests were nearly as infamous as his military ones, but he had never married or officially named a consort. The princess would be the first.

The king had sent a huge wedding procession of gifts and treasures to the high court of the Badlands, and along with it the most talented entertainers and artisans they had to offer. As the most talented dancing courtesan in the capital you had no choice but to travel with the caravan, so here you were. Performing a sword dance for a bloodthirsty king who kept looking at you as if you were a meal. It was an ego boost for sure but you were also scared.

When your performance came to a close, you bowed and quickly escaped when the princess had successfully stolen Katsuki's attention. Your face was burning under your veil and you fanned yourself in the cool stone hallway to calm down. You were hoping that the king would forget about you after a few more performers. but you hadn't even been out of the main hall two minutes when a servant came to fetch you.

"His highness requests your presence."

Your blood ran cold and your gulped. Oh gods, you had offended him hadn't you? He was going to kill you, probably behead you right there in the middle of the banquet himself-

You were thinking yourself into a panic when you returned to the banquet hall, eyes downcast now. You bowed, kneeling on the ground and hands clasped in front of your bare midriff.

Faintly you heard a scoff, and then the music stopped. You felt yourself go even more still, eyes darting around to see what happened. Unable to tell, you lifted your head slightly to see the king sauntering his way towards you. He had stepped directly over the table, spilling wine all over the princess in the process.

You quickly bowed your head again and tried not to hyperventilate. You didn't want to pass out now.

Two surprisingly clean leather boots entered your vision and on instinct, you looked up. King Bakugou was even more attractive up close, obviously built for battle with strong chords of muscle littered with scars, a sharp jawline and a head of unruly blonde hair.

"Did I say you could look at me?"

"No, your majesty." you squeak and quickly look back down.

Bakugou crouches to be level with your and grips your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his scarlet gaze.

"Did I say you could look away?" he grumbles this time.

"No, your majesty." You feel conflicted, unsure if he’d be more offended if you averted your eyes or just kept looking at him.

His eyes rake over your body again before coming back to yours.

"What's your name, pretty thing?"

"Y/N. I'm a dancer in my king's court." you answer, praying your voice doesn't sound as shaky as you feel.

He doesn't say anything but lets your chin go and rises to his feet. You rub the bottom half of your face, thinking it might just bruise. Bakugou isn't done with you, though and grabs your wrist, hauling you up from the floor. "What-?" you start to ask but a red-eyed glare has you clamping your mouth shut. The barbarian king drags you with him, right up to the high table. He lifts you over the table as if you weigh nothing, and sits you down on his lap. Right next to the princess. The banquet hall continued to steep in silence until Bakugou looked up.

"Fuck are you all looking at? Get on with the feast!" he yelled, and the music and chatter started back up.

"Your majesty, shouldn't worry with commoners-" she starts and Bakugou growls, actually growls so menacingly, you feel your own blood run cold.

"If I wanted your dumbass fucking opinion, I'd ask for it. Shut the fuck up."

Once he was sure the princess was properly cowed he turned his attention back on you. The arm wrapped around your waist holding you against his was warm against your bare skin.

"Pour me some wine." He commanded and your started before shakily lifting the pitcher and pouring some into his goblet. You hadn't it off to him carefully, and he quickly knocked it back before signaling for you to pour another.

"Most king's with a lick of sense wouldn't let a treasure like you out of their sight, so what are you doing in my court?" Bakugou asks.

"His Majesty decreed that the most talented entertainers accompany Her Highness to Your Majesty's court, for you entertainment and pleasure." you answer, handing off the refilled goblet.

Bakugou snorts at your measured and obviously practiced response. You night have heard him mutter 'toothless old bastard' under his breath, but you can't be sure.

"Give me a strawberry.", he gestures at the plate of fruit no six inches from him and you barely manage not to roll your eyes. Warlord or not, royals will always be royals, you think and pick up one of the berries.

The dragon king open his mouth and allows you to place the fruit on his tongue before biting into it. His ruby red eyes don't leave yours for a second, gripping your wrist when your try to pull away. Some juice trickles down your hand, and without breaking eye contact, Bakugou laves his tongue over your skin licking up the trail of red. He eats the rest of the berry, lips catching on your fingers before the lets your hand go in favor of picking up his wine goblet again.

"My entertainment and pleasure huh? I'm entertained, but I don't know about pleased..." he says, smirking into his goblet.

"Is there anything I can do for Your Majesty?" you manage to ask, brain still reeling from the whole thing with the strawberry.

And you walk right into his trap.

"Yeah, I can think of something..." he starts before leaning closer to you.

His hat breath fans against your neck for a moment, letting your get squirmy and nervous before continuing.

"Fucking you until you cry all that pretty makeup off... Then I'd be real fucking pleased." he says with a predatory smile spreading across his face.

You squeak, face heating under your veil as you try to formulate a response. You have no idea if the princess heard but if she did-

"Y-your majesty, I don't think-" you start but Bakugou cuts you off by grinding his hips up into yours.

"Good thing you don't need to think to take my cock." he muses.

The princess, appears to have reached her limit of watching her fiance flirt with someone else right in front of her.

"Your Majesty! I understand that this is a political marriage but I will not sit here and be humiliated and witch you proposition a commoner in front of me!" she exclaims.

You're a little surprised at her outburst considering the environment, but you guessed everyone had limits.

All chatter and music in the hall ceased for the second time that night. Bakugou pulled his face out of your neck to glare at the princess.

"You can fuck off for all I care. Your side wanted the fucking treaty, I don't have a problem with saddling up and burning your shitty country to the ground tonight." Bakugou stated, his anger growing with each word.

"King Bakugou those words could be taken as an act of war. " the diplomatic envoy from your country, stands and approaches the high table.

"What the- Did you idiots forget where you are? You're in the heart of the Badlands, in the court of Katsuki Bakugo, barbarian warlord and King of Dragons. This is my fucking kingdom and I'll do what I very well fucking please. And if I want to fuck this courtesan on the table right in front of your perfect little princess, I will. " He snarls and all you can do is sit there and pray he doesn't actually follow through on that threat.

Not that you'd hate it, seeing the look on the princess's face as you got fucked by her betrothed. Hah, serves her fucking right for always being such a brat.

"But I'm not a cruel king. I'll marry this one, and you can keep your silly little treaty." Bakugou says and both the diplomat and the princess scoff.

You balk, looking up at King Bakugou in surprise. He's going to what now?

"You can't possible expect the princess to be content with being on the same level as a commoner, even as a consort-" the diplomat starts to protest, which is quickly cut off by Bakugou's harsh laugh.

"You're a country of fucking dumbasses? I'm not marrying your brat of a princess, dump her off on some other poor bastard. I'm marrying Y/N instead of her. They'll be my consort. Won't you, pretty thing?" He says, looking at your for your answer.

"Say yes, treasure. I'm rich as fuck, I could give you anything you want. If I can't buy it I can take it. There's nothing I can't do. You wouldn't lift a fucking finger with me, I can promise that." he boasts to you and you know this.

King Bakugou is an unstoppable force. You had a hard life as a commoner, as a dancer. You weren't a servant but always being at the beck and call of nobility, dancing for them until your feet bled, until you fainted from exhaustion.

You deserved to be greedy, just like the man holding you in his lap.

"Yes, I'll marry you." you answer, and Bakugou smiles wickedly.

Good, he likes greedy. It's one of his favorite traits.

He turns his head back to look at the diplomat and princess from your home country. The diplomat looks like he's sweating buckets and the princess is so angry you think she might start breathing fire.

"So, do we have an agreement? Y/N for your protection?" he asks.

"Y-yes your majesty." the diplomat stutters at the same time the princess protests.

"We do not! How dare you disrespect me so openly, you filthy little wench-" she starts, only to be silenced by the sight of Bakugou pulling his sword. He points the tip at the princess, visibly seething with rage.

"Shut your worthless fucking mouth before I shut it for you." he growls.

Fear takes over the princess' face and she stumbles back behind the diplomat.

"Oi, don't piss on my floor or anything, fucking cowards. Show some respect to my new consort. Bend the knee and I'll forget this transgression." Bakugou orders.

While not officially married yet, he's bestowed the title of consort upon you and now you outrank the princess. In fact, you outrank nearly everyone here, sans Katsuki, who is your equal. The diplomat and princess wordlessly fall into a bow, and the nobles from both courts follow suit.

"Alright that's enough groveling for now. This banquet is over, I'm retiring to my bed chambers. If you need me, don't." Bakugou gruffs and stands up, once again easily scooping you up into his arms.

"I'm going to rip this pretty little costume to shreds, and pump and heir into you tonight, goddamn it." Bakugou murmurs in your ear as he carries you though out his(your) palace.

"I like this one..." your protest weakly as he kicks a door open, throwing you onto his bed.

He grasps the waistline of your costume, easily ripping the silk to shreds with his bare hands.

"I'm buy you forty just like it, now spread your legs, Consort." he orders, licking his lips.

"I didn't get to finish my meal earlier." He hums and you squeak in anticipation.

"Cute. Let's see how many cute noises you can make, huh?"

@hanji-is-life i hope you enjoy!

#bakugou fanfiction #bakugou kastuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x gnc reader #dragon king bakugou #bakugou imagine

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

22! angst to fluff pls love ur works <333

THANK YOU SM EVERYONE FOR REQUESTING HOPE YA'LL LIKE IT LOVE YAA !!!!!!

Harry hates one thing, most. That’s silence. Still, Y/N gave him a silent treatment knowing how much it drives him insane. It pinches him in throat in the most sickening way and makes him vicious about their fights more.

She has her reason too. Anyone would have a right to be mad if their boyfriend will be seen going to bars with models and cherry on top it turns out be his ex.

In his defence it was a PR stunt to keep the quietude about his dating life since Y/N and Harry’s relationship is private for Y/N's sake.

“You could’ve atleast told me, tha' you were going with her?” Was all she said. Confusion and insecurities and the images of her glued all over him mocked her in the most brutal way before she was distancing herself away from him.

He did anything in his will to bring her back to him, apologised and tried to shower her in kisses, making her brekkie and staying at home but she kept on pushing him away.

The problem wasn’t him. It was her. She blamed herself. He’s been nothing but so gentle with her and she’s towing him away like a used tissue.

Harry knew Y/N anxiety was always at bay and he didn’t want to worsen it by going public but it was biting him in arse as questions upon questions were thrown at him for past three years.

It's Saturday morning and she appears from the guest room after ages, the sight for sore eyes.

Harry’s eyes that were staring the tiled wall of kitchen flitters towards her and his gaze turns soft when he sees her drowned into one of his lilac sweater (she missed him so much and felt awfully hollow and cold sleeping in the bed that doesn’t smell like him at all; so she did what could comfort her best).

She looks so small and frail as if the demons of the lone bedroom swallowed her whole.

Heavy eyebags digging away the glimmer in her eyes, her cheekbones prominent and the pinkness of her eyes visible telling how much she’s been crying.

He turns expressionless on purpose when she meets his gaze and isn’t what she wanted? Some space to figure her thoughts out – but that polite gesture turned into a silent treatment from Harry’s side this time.

She knows that he’s more of a meanie in this game than her because he’s the one that never let things bottle up, his eyes gives away everything but right now they’re just murk of anger.

“Can we talk?” Her voice dim from crying for days and Harry elevates his shoulders carelessly, wrinkles on his forehead and his frown deep as he shrugs, “Dunno. Realized t’pick y'puppet back, your eminence?” His taunt hits her right in chest and she blinks the moisture in her eyes away looking down at her fingers fumbling with the frays of the hem.

He’s cloaked with sadness and dejection from her misbehaviour.

He’s the most petty when she’s the reason of his agony.

“I hate how much I care about, you.” He spats. Knuckles turning white from his grip around the marble counter and Y/N listens —— because good, she should now she’s out of her own bubble.

“How much I’ve told y'that no-one ‘n damn nothin’ could come between us —-" His tone dripping with malevolence and bitterness it tears Y/N up.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Harry!!” She almost shouts. Shaky fingers contemplating to rip at her hair and her tears now shines at her cheeks, Harry elicits a flak taunting chuckle.

“See you’ve never trusted our love. Can y'fo’ once get outta y’head?” His own eyes glossy and his cheeks flushing rosy from the impact.

“You don’t want to bear what comes with lovin' me, don’t want me to cover up tha’ fo' you and you couldn’t spend a single day without doubting us,” He licks the salt away from his lips and his heart pauses a slow beat when Y/N's lips wobbles -- incoherent blabbers slipping past her swollen lips.

“What d'ya want then!?” The loud snap of his abrasive voice hitches her breath and she sobs out sorrowfully, “I just want you.” He sighs in defeat. Not really pondering over the severity and nuance of his words before speaking.

“Falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” That was the last blow for Y/N. She gasps out a cry. Pupils bursting wide and her insides falls sick as the itching goosebumps pin-prickles at her skin.

Everything gets struck for a moment. Harry’s expression matches her as he realizes what damage he has caused and to confirm it a blaring thunder roars through the sky.

Y/N gulps the achy feeling in her throat and just nods silently retreating back through the steps that led her to him and he’s rushing behind her in fret only to get the door to be slammed on his face.

He curses himself. Hitting his forehead into the door frame, that was the lowest and most cheapest fucking insult you could’ve managed to throw her way you dick.

“Y/N. I’m —-...fuck.” He knows that a sorry will be too humiliating for the hurt he has caused her.

While, Y/N sits on the floor at the most corner of the room with her knees bunched up to her chest. His hurtful words rings in her skull and she stuffs her face into her elbow sobbing into it watching the bear Harry won for her in a carnival with doleful blurry vision.

Through his whole life the only decision he regrets is loving me – out of every stupid thing he thinks our love is the most stupidest, what if it's the end? How I'll live without him? It’s impossible.

Forgetting hurts the more than grieving and she’d never be able to do that.

Her toes numbs to tingles and she feels herself drowning somewhere into pitch darkness, her heart lurching ruefully at each knock Harry taps on the door and her stomach burns with acidy sting lungs knotting tight making her gasp for oxygen.

Her panic attack crawling up her body in beasty blood curling gashes and she attempts to shout a plead for Harry but white dots appears at the back of her eyelids tripping her into mountain of floor pillows.

It knocks the vase out and it shatters beside her head, “Y/N! Baby!” Harry pounds at the door and when doesn’t hear a response from her side he’s kicking it open harshly.

The lock unhinges as he rushes inside worrisome and his world shatters when he sees his lovie struggling for a breather, her petite body trembling and shaking with each gasp that bolts her throat more and she nearly begs for him to do something.

He’s falling beside her on the floor and embracing her pliant figure in his gentle hold, “’S okay. ‘S okay.” He croaks out wiping his own tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He rubs her tummy in soothing circles then trails his clammy palm up her chest and maintains an eye contact with her panicked ones. Her breath shudders when she tries to calm it back and her nails digs into his skin in doing so.

“Doing s'good f'me darling, yeah —-..yeah.” He bobs his head vigorously and assuring-ly stroking his thumb against her soaky cheek tenderly in pacifying motions.

Her breath lulls slowly back into a pattern and she jerks a little while inhaling a nourishing puff, “Take a breath honey, yes princess just like that.” He whispers speckling a tiny kiss to her forehead.

He pushes her up with a firm hand on her hip and into his lap murmuring sweet dottings into her ear, “Squeeze me hand if you could hear me baby.” He just wants to be reassured she’s doing okay –- his face crooked against her pulse point into her throat and she does so giving a weak squish to his fingers.

“Jeez.” He bumps her chin up with his head and touches their temples together – eskimo kissing her nose and her eyelids flutter when he pecks her mouth ever so lightly.

His insides are shaking anxiously from fright and he again hugs her warmly to feel her.

“’M sorry. So sorry lovie' didn’t –-.. didn’t mean to hurt ya, swear moppet was just upset tha’ y’were being so far from me. I love you so much precious ....." He presses his wet lips to the side of her head and buries his nose in her hair -- arms tightening around her waist.

".... and I don’t think lovin' you is stupid. Thinks tha’ ‘s the only best thing I’ve ever done in me life ... could never love anyone like that.” He mumbles cradling her sweaty face into his palms and patches soft kisses all over her face.

She hiccups a whimper. Nose quivering and lip wobbling — letting him kiss her pout and fists the flimsy fabric of his hoodie in her teensy hands compared to him, “’M sorry too. Sorry f'acting childish and not talking to you about it. I’m just scared I’m getting too obsessed with the idea of us and it’ll ruin us pathetically.”

“Wait. Wait woah baby ...” He grabs her gently with shoulders and pulls her back from him, “’S tha’ why you were trying to live off all by yourself?” He asks politely a bit glum she was enduring all of that herself.

When she tries to hide her face out of timidness he hooks his thumb under her chin and highers it up, “Y/N.”

“Thinks you love me so intensely?” She sniffs nodding in agreement and he smiles sweetly.

“Then fuckin' do it silly. Why d'ya think I wouldn’t want that lovlin? I want to be so loved by my sweet baby.” He almost falls back when she slings her arms around the nape of his neck and brings him down for a cuddle.

“I love you so much my Angel.” He murmurs with his face squished into her neck and fills his lungs with her warm vanillay scent.

She rubs her cheek up and down his chest like an affectionate starved puppy then stops where his heart lays under the trap of bones and kisses it three times.

Her love language. When she isn’t able to utter something she’s always appreciating him with loving actions and at the moment she did the same to exchange the sentiment.

Three kisses to heart means, “I love you so much it aches me.” He immediately catches it and pecks her nose.

"I know bub, I know."

#HARRY STYLES ANGST #harry styles angst.#harry styles angsty imagines #harry styles angsty blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #fluff #harry styles one shots #cute harry #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles fanfic

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mellowyandere · 3 years

Text

Erasermic “Just tell us what you like darling.”

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta, Yamada Hizashi

Summary: You’d been stuck with the two pro heroes for a couple of weeks now but have yet to open up. Can’t you see they’re just curious?

Length: 4K

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, M/M/F, slight bondage, aphrodisiac, oral sex, vaginal sex, slight praise kink.

You sat curled up on the far end of the couch, eyes glazed over as you watched the TV in front of you. A half-baked sad excuse of a porno disguised as a movie was playing. The plot was flimsy at best and you couldn't care less, but movie nights weren’t optional.

Hizashi and Shouta were cuddled up closer to the middle of the couch than you’d prefer. You could feel their eyes flickering between you and the shitty movie. Currently the female lead was bent over the male leads extravagant kitchen counter getting railed out of her mind. Her wanton moaning was starting to get on your nerves.

“Soooo.” the blond broke the silence. You peered over at him and couldn't help but roll your eyes as he waggled his eyebrows. “What kinda stuff you into baby girl?” With the degrading quality in movie’s Hizashi had been picking for the three of you to watch you had a feeling he was up to something.

“Not whatever this is...” Shouta snorted at your response, pulling Hizashi closer to keep him from migrating over to you. The dark-haired man was fully aware you were on edge, still not having settled into your new life yet. His boisterous partner on the other hand was dying to get to you, his patience much shorter than his sleepy counterpart.

“Aww I thought you’d enjoy this one! I mean she sure looks like she’s enjoying it. Ever been fucked over a counter?”

You couldn't help but choke a bit at his question. The man had been getting more and more pointed in his attempts to unravel your sexual escapades and desires. “I-It’s hardly any of your business!”

“Come on babe no need to be so shy! Sho and I are here for yah, whatever you want or need we can give!”

You felt your blood boil a bit at his proclamation. The fucking nerve this man had to say you could have whatever you want after kidnapping you.

Shouta noticed your face scrunching up with anger. Hizashi noticed too, but was so desperate for something besides your passive aggressive moping he'd take anything.

But you weren’t interested in giving them any reason to punish you, so instead you quietly stood up from the couch.

“I have a headache so I’m going to go lay down. Don’t bother me.” You hesitated for a second. “Please.” Within your two weeks here you had learned manners got you pretty far with Shouta, allowing you to push the boundary between rude and polite.

Peeking over at the two you saw Hizashi struggling to sit up, but Shouta held fast, pulling him close and murmuring something in his ear. The blond frowned, sharp green eyes narrowing in your direction, but he relaxed into his partner.

“Take it easy kitten. Let us know if you need anything.” You cringed at the sleepy pro’s pet name but took the chance to leave before they changed their minds.

-----

“I told you those shitty movies weren’t going to work.”

“Yah never know Sho, I thought maybe she’d see us all cuddled up like love birds and want to join after watching something steamy! Not my fault she’s so damn shy.” Hizashi was pouting now.

Shouta hated to see the normally, annoyingly, enthusiastic voice hero like this. Thankfully he had been mentally working on a plan for a while now. Your problem was not only were you shy, but you were so self-conscious you lacked the courage to ask them what you wanted. It was on him to work it out of you. The issue was getting you in the right mood. He knew it would take months before you came around, and if it was just him that would be perfectly fine.

But his sulking partner wasn't going to last that long, and he’d end up doing something to push you further away from them. No, they were going to have to get you to come onto them. What he had in mind made his gut churn a bit in guilt, but if it worked then it would all be worth it.

“Hizashi stop whining. I have a plan to help get her out of her shell.” Hizashi sprang up, emerald eyes wide in delight. “Oh oh, tell me tell me!”

Shouta smiled softly at how fast the man could bounce back. “I had a feeling we were going to need a bit more than movies to encourage her so I had Kayama get me an aphrodisiac. She has troublesome pets of her own so she was more than happy to help out.”

Hizashi was practically vibrating with excitement now. It took everything in him to not shout out in joy. “You’re a genius! So when do we give it to her, now? Tonight? The sooner the bet-”

“No. Not right now,” Shouta cut him off.

“We need to give her some time to settle down, cut it with the pornos, and use it when she least expects it. I’ll decide when the time is right, and let you know once it’s all set up. Can’t have you giving the surprise away now can I.” With that the dark-haired hero pulled Hizashi closer to him for a gentle kiss. “Just be patient Zashi and she’ll be ours willingly.”

----

It had been a little over a week since Hizashi had stopped forcing you to watch those raunchy movies. He still insisted every now and again to watch something, even asking for your own input. He had also thankfully stepped back a bit on the sexual comments and you almost felt comfortable near him.

Tonight, was yet again movie night. Hizashi was already hunkered down on the couch a warm cup of tea clutched in his hands. Shouta silently slunk in from the kitchen, he always managed to spook you with how quietly he moved.

“Here kitten,” he handed you a hot cup of tea and plopped down in between you and the blond. He opened his arms and gestured to you with a questioning eyebrow but you simply mumbled out your thanks for the tea and turned to the tv.

“Alright babes it's show time!” With that Hizashi started the movie and another uneventful night began. You sipped slowly on your tea, it was a bit hot but it felt nice in the cold house.

About thirty minutes into the movie you began to feel a bit... odd. Did you have a fever? You wiggled a bit to try and get comfortable but the burning in your gut only seemed to increase. Something wasn't right, but you couldn’t figure out what.

“You doing alright there kitten?” Shouta questioned while shuffling closer to you. He reached his hand out and gently placed it on your thigh, deep obsidian eyes glinting with amusement.

You yelped, jumping a bit as his large hand made contact with your clothed leg. Even through the fabric he was so warm, and arousal pooled in your stomach. What the fuck was going on? You jumped up, his hand falling to the soft cushion.

“A-ah I’m fine! I don’t feel so good um so... I’m gonna go rest!” You bolted, Hizashi whining in complaint as you took off. “What’s her deal,” he grumbled in annoyance. He glanced over at Shouta and suddenly it dawned on him. The cheeky smirk on the dark pro’s face giving him away.

“Come on Zashi. We’re going to follow her tonight.”

Hizashi shot up in excitement at his partners’ proclamation. A grin that showed just a bit too many teeth splitting his face in half.

“Might need this though,” Shouta murmured as he grabbed his capture weapon.

Heading upstairs the two pros found your bedroom door closed, but due to the lack of a lock it didn't stand as much of a barrier. Hizashi rushed to swing the door wide open, ready to charge in, but was halted by Shouta. “Slow it down we’ve got all night. Don’t want to spook her,” he whispered.

The blond shot him a wink “Aight aight my b,” he whispered back.

You shot up in bed when the door was forcefully thrown open, a familiar pair of green eyes locking onto you. “You doin’ alright there baby girl? I mean I know runnin’ off ain’t too weird for yah but you’ve been so good these past couple days.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled out. You were in fact not fine. You felt like your body was on fire, and your cunt was aching. Hizashi bounded over, jumping up on the bed and shuffling closer to you. You curled up on yourself, body pressed against the headboard. “Pl-please stop.”

“Aww Sho she’s so damn shy, ain’t she just the cutest thing?”

“Mhmm, the cutest.” Shouta wandered into the room, capture weapon in hand. Why did he have that?

“We’ll finish the movie in here. That way you can continue to rest.” The dark-haired pro turned the tv on in your room and crawled into bed, remote in one hand, weapon in the other. “And so you don’t try to avoid watching the movie...” With that his weapon slowly unraveled, metal alloy winding around your wrists and securing them up above you on the headboard.

“Whoa hey what are you doing! I-I’ll watch the movie I promise!” Shouta planted himself firmly on your right, while Hizashi cuddled up on your left. “Nu-uh baby girl you’ve been dodging movie night! Can’t take any chances now!” Two different hands took up residence on each thigh, Shouta’s gently rubbing circles into your skin while Hizashi’s squeezed and rubbed with a little more force. You had changed into shorts to try and help with how hot you felt, but now you were regretting your decision.

It was torture. Their hands sending tingles of electricity straight to your wet pussy and hardening nipples. You bit back a moan as Hizashi’s hand began to trail further between your thighs so he could get a better grip on the soft skin. If they noticed your uncomfortable squirming they didn't say anything about it. Opting to watch the movie while you grew more and more aroused.

This was ridiculous, you’ve never felt so turned on in your whole life! You held your tongue for fear of letting a moan slip out of your mouth.

A text notification went off to your right. Shouta heaved a sigh as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, but quickly chuckled in amusement upon opening the message.

“What’s up Sho?” Hizashi leaned in closer to you, hand moving upwards, gently bumping up against your clothed sex. In turn Shouta extended his hand towards his partner, knuckles brushing across your sensitive nipple.

You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that passed your lips.

In a fraction of a second two set of sharp eyes darted to you. You hung your head in shame as heat flooded your cheeks.

“What was that baby doll? Someone feelin’ a lil frisky?” The blonds quirk picked up a bit at the end of his sentence and rumbled through your body.

“N-no!” What was with you stuttering? You needed to assert yourself! You felt completely out of control of your own body.

“Oh reallyyy?” With that Hizashi bumped his knuckle up against your clit. You bucked your hips into his hand and let out a pathetic mewl.

“Zashi leave her alone,” Shouta chided the man. You looked over to him, thankful he was always the voice of reason, to feel relief replaced by fear as you saw the predatory glint in his eyes. “Come on now, Kayama sent us a cute little outfit we should buy for our kitten,” as he spoke his hand clutching the phone continued to rub against your perky bud.

The fire in your gut was getting worse, your head felt like it was spinning. Did they.. did they do something to you? Your brain couldn't block out the image of Hizashi’s slender fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt fast enough and you clenched down on nothing in response. You felt so empty.

“Please!”

“Please stop? Or do you mean please keep going baby girl?” At this point you didn’t know which one it was either. You wanted them to stop, to leave you alone. But at the same time, you needed something. You needed them.

But they made the decision for you. Pulling away both men placed their hands back into their own laps, pants a little more tented than they were a moment ago. “We wouldn't want to do anything without your permission kitten,” the dark hair hero stated as you whined at the loss of contact. Oh so they chose now to be decent human beings?

They were doing this on purpose. You felt your eyes sting a bit as tears threatened to form. Fine if they wanted to play a stupid game you'd play. Raising your head you glared at the tv, hell-bent on not giving them the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

You lasted about fifteen minutes before the burning sensation in your core went from uncomfortably aroused to painful. You wriggled about, desperate to try and generate some friction. You no longer cared that Shouta and Hizashi had turned their attention to you with quirked eyebrows and amused smiles. How fucking patronizing.

“Just say the word baby girl and Sho an’ I can help yah.” Tears were openly falling down your face now as you sniffled miserably. “Pl-please..” you whispered, shame flooding through you.

“Not good enough.” You growled in frustration at Shouta’s dismissal. “If you want help kitten, you’re going to have to tell us exactly what you want.”

You threw your head back in frustration against the headboard. You couldn’t last much longer, they were leaving you with no choice.

It took about three more minutes of them ignoring you before you couldn’t do it anymore. Little sobs racked your body at the intense heat that was pumping through your veins.

“Please!” You cried out. And then the flood gate of promises burst forwards as you tried to tempt them into saving you. “I-I’ll be your good girl. I’ll let you tie me up, dress me up, pin me down, kiss me when you want, hold me during movie nights...” you started off tame working your way to more and more explicit promises.

“I’ll warm your cocks while you grade papers, o-or suck you off, let you fuck me while I’m asleep, anything, everything! Ple-please help me I need you to.. to fuck me please.” To say the men were pleased was an understatement. They had been expecting something, but were blown away with your confessions, each one spiraling into deeper and darker desires. You deserved a reward, now didn't you?

You kept rambling, little hiccups shaking your body while you cried causing you to stutter. You had been so busy trying to figure out what they wanted you to say that you failed to notice your now free hands. Only when Shouta slid behind you did you realize the situation you were in.

Both men had stripped themselves of their remaining clothes, and made quick work of peeling off your damp shirt and drenched panties. Hizashi hunkered down between your thighs. “That wasn’t so hard now was it baby girl? Aww Sho she’s absolutely dripping.” He threw your legs over his shoulders and his hot breath fanned out against your aching cunt.

You barely registered the words he said, opting instead to buck your hips towards his lopsided grin. “Easy now kitten, we’re here don’t worry,” Shouta murmured low into your ear. Gently he bit down on your earlobe while he hands came up and began to work on your tender breasts. His solid cock was flush with your lower back, gently throbbing as you wiggled for Hizashi’s attention.

“See now ain’t it just so much better when you tell us what you want.”

“Don’t torture her Zashi come on now, she’s waited long enough.”

The man barked a laugh before delving right in, not wasting a second more. His eager tongue delved between your delicate folds, working its way up and down. You threw your head back against Shouta’s shoulder, crying out in relief and pleasure. It wasn't enough, but fuck it was something, and he was good at it.

Shouta’s fingers pinched and rolled your nipples while Hizashi began to experiment with delving his tongue deeper inside, nose brushing up against your clit. Your hands wrapped around Shouta’s wrists as you attempted to ground yourself. You had only just begun and you could already feel your oncoming orgasm, your walls desperately clenching down on the blondes skilled tongue. You had been denied for so long it would only take a little bit more.

He hummed in satisfaction as he felt you getting close, quirk sending vibrations straight to your core and you snapped. You closed your eyes as your hips bucked up against his face. He held fast, hands digging into your thighs as he eagerly lapped you up. You moaned without restraint, Shouta’s lips flush against your neck as he nipped and sucked marks into your skin.

When you finally stopped squirming Hizashi pulled away with a cheeky grin, mouth glistening with your arousal. “Fuck baby girl you already finished?” No, it wasn't enough. You needed more!

“Please, I need more..I..” “Shh don’t worry kitten, we know what you need.” The blond leaned forwards and locked lips with his black-haired partner behind you. Shouta groaned into his mouth, cock throbbing eagerly against your back. From here you could see the blondes cock as well. He had an impressive length, red tip dripping pre-cum as it flexed with his arousal.

With a free hand you reached out and gripped his enticing member, earning a surprised moan from the hero. He pulled back looking down at you with lust clouded eyes. “As much as I want to fuck you until you sing, it’s Sho’s turn. Mm but shit do those small hands of yours look good wrapped around me.” He gave an experimental thrust of his hips into your grip before pulling away. Shouta began to move as well, swapping places with the blonde. You were flipped around, Hizashi crawling under you while Shouta pulled you up and back so you were on all fours.

“I could get used to a view like this,” Shouta said with satisfaction. The blond couldn't agree more, after all he was about to get a front row seat to his partner fucking you silly. His greedy hands came up and gripped the back of your head, pulling your face down for a deep kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn't care.

With your head pulled down your ass was arched up and Shouta couldn't help but give it an experimental slap. You yelped in pain, wriggling forwards out of his grip. “Sorry kitten I just couldn’t help myself. Your ass is just so perfect.” He kneaded the sore flesh affectionately as an apology.

The burning in your core had returned full force from what little Hizashi had done earlier to ease it, and you once again found yourself rocking your hips back against the dark haired hero. With his cock in hand he began to teasingly run it up and down your sopping cunt. Not this again.

You cried out into Hizashi’s mouth attempting to pull away from him in order to force the man behind you to fuck you, but both men held your firmly in place. Shouta took a moment longer to enjoy how needy you were before giving you what you wanted, the head of his cock slowly breaching your tight walls.

Your cries of frustration turned into cries of pleasure and Hizashi ate them up. Shouta began to gently pump himself into you. The aphrodisiac and Hizashi’s prepping making you wet enough he could slam into you if he wanted, but he needed to take his time. After all this wasn’t about him, it was about you. Showing you just what he and his partner could give you, how well they could provide for your every need.

Below you Hizashi took his own cock into his hand and broke off the kiss, pumping into his fist at the same excruciatingly slow pace Shouta was fucking you. He watched the pleasure consume you, eyes twisted shut as you took his partners cock like the perfect little girl you were. As Shouta began to pick up his pace, not only did Hizashi match it, he got the pleasure of watching your tits bounce in rhythm to the sturdy hips snapping against your ass. He could die right here a very happy man.

You were babbling now that your mouth was no longer consumed by the blond hero, pleas and mewls spilling forth as you allowed the men to alleviate the burning inside you. “You’re just so fucking cute ain’t you, shit I hope you’re still needy when Sho’s done cause fuck do I want to feel that perfect lil pussy of yours.” Speaking of, the man behind you let out a groan as you clenched down on him hard when he hit a particular spot inside you, velvety walls trying to milk him for all he was worth.

“She’s so fucking tight, so perfect. Shit, I think she’s going to cum again.” Shouta leaned down, muscular chest flush against your back as he wrapped his arm around you, hand reaching between your legs to stimulate your neglected clit. You bucked back into him at the sudden sensation. Hizashi’s free hand reached up and began to tweak your left nipple, desperate to see what your face looked like when you came undone on top of him.

The conjoined efforts of the two men sent you once again over the edge, face contorting in pleasure as your walls fluttered around Shouta’s cock. Moans and whimpers tumbled from your mouth. Shouta’s hips began to stutter a bit at the sensation of your walls clamping down on him, quickly approaching his own climax.

He began to slam into you, his thick member forcing itself deep within with each snap of his hips. With his chest flush against you, and arms tightly holding you in place he finally stilled. Groans of pleasure fell from his mouth as he pumped his hot cum into you, the remedy for the aphrodisiac bringing you immediate relief. Holding your exhausted body off of Hizashi, Shouta kept you plugged with his cock in order to undo the aphrodisiac as best he could.

The sight of both of you finishing above the blond was beyond a dream come true. He had been helping himself along this entire time and couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Fuck do I wish I had a camera both my babes cumming one after the other I’m on cloud fuckin’ nine! Prop her up and slide out for me baby, it’s my turn to help cool down our girl.”

With a grunt the dark-haired pro sat up, continuing to press you firmly to him. His cock slowly slid out and his cum immediately began to run down your thighs. He maneuvered you so you were sitting over Hizashi’s waiting cock before lowering you down.

You whined at the feeling of the slimmer man entering you. Shouta had him in girth, but Hizashi won when it came to length.

“There you go baby girl, shit! You weren’t lying Sho she’s so tight I don’t think I’m gonna last that long.”

Quickly the blond began to snap his hips up into your limp body, only upright thanks to the man behind you. Words of praise tumbled from the blond as he fucked up into you. True to his word he didn’t last much longer, the entirety of the night catching up to him as he began to cum inside you. Unlike Shouta he continued fucking his seed into you until he finally stilled.

You were absolutely spent, and a complete mess.

“Seems we made a mess in your bed kitten, you can sleep with Hizashi and I until we wash your sheets.” He began to pull you up off the satisfied hero below you, his length slipping out, causing even more cum to run down your thighs and onto the blond’s lap. Not that he minded.

“Lets get all cleaned up babes and ready for bed!” You were too tired to protest, relaxing in Shouta’s arms. Come tomorrow you had a lot to think about regarding what happened. But for now, with your body no longer burning, a warm shower sounded like heaven.

#tw: noncon #yandere aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere my hero academia #aphrodisiac #yandere x you

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

#WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT :O PLACE UR BETS BESTIES #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook scenario

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taeyongers · 3 years

Text

Exile (M)

pairing: hyunjae x reader

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

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

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

word count: 8.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why were you even outside in the rain?”

“I was bored.”

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

“Why? You’re not my brother.”

He falls silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods resolutely. “Yeah.”

Your hands fall away from each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened? Where were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh.

“Did someone say something? Did they threaten-”

“What am I to you?” You ask.

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

“Do you love me?”

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

“Are you in love with me?”

He goes still. Silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows furrow. “Where?”

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s their leader!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

“Then why don’t they?” You yell.

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

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

Something flits across his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

He steps forward. “That’s not true.”

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

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

“Why not? I’m the enemy leader.”

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

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

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

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

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

He raises a brow. “Really?”

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

“Then do it.”

You stutter. “I- I will do it…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze. “You feel what for me?”

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

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

You still. He rubs the nape of his neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow!” You reel back.

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

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

“Sir!? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

He smirks. “Then headbutt me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

He killed. He punished. He executed.

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

It was to maintain order, dignity, balance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So? Any updates?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yes, sir,” he sputters out.

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

...

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

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

Then, you rip yourself from your thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get him into the car! Hurry!”

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

...

“Does it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it now?”

He smiles. “Isn’t this familiar?”

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

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

“Y/n-“

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

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

“Oh, I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were my family-“ he begins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to say it.”

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

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

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

You nod. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You find your voice. “You got tattoos.”

He smiles. “You like them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips curl into a smile. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He reaches up to grip your waist. You stop.

“You can't touch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your resolve almost shatters, but you enjoy seeing him like this too much. You merely shake your head and he huffs, resigning himself.

“Will you behave?”

He seems to glare at the ceiling before nodding without a word. Something thrums in your heart. You settle over him and begin the process anew. You like this, seeing him under you, controlling the pace, making love to him. He groans again, and you lean forward to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, biting the skin so it makes him shudder. Your hips speed up slightly, moaning into the air as his pants. His fingers strain and clench, his eyelids fluttered closed in concentration. You marvel at his self control.

You think of that too late when he thrusts into you once again. When you slow down, he grasps your sides and gives another thrust. You gasp and remove yourself from him but before your warmth can leave his dick completely, he’s rolling you over, flat on your back against the sheets. He harshly rolls his hips against yours.

“Hyun-“ you moan as he gives another thrust, his head tipping back. He picks up pace, hands roaming your body, his self restraint snapping. “I’ve waited for years,” he moans, leaning forward to litter kisses on your neck. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

With a bite of your skin, he’s speeding up his thrusts, sending you clawing at his back. He presses his forehead into yours, working his hips in wonders, has you seeing stars, relentlessly, until you cry out his name, clenching hard around him.

“Oh my god,” he groans at your walls milking him. He swallows your moans with his kisses, thrusts into you a few more times until he’s coming with you.

He collapses against you, one lazy arm propped upon the bed so as to not crush you. Your head is swimming, heart thrumming, feeling the tickle of his hair against your cheek as you catch your breath. Pleasure tingles throughout your entire body. He gives a breathless laugh, plants a kiss to your forehead and rolls away to lie on the sheets beside you.

It’s quiet for a heartbeat before he speaks. “Lets run away together.”

You chuckle, “we’re criminals, Hyunjae.”

“So?” he asks, facing you. His eyes are twinkling once again.

You find your words. “So, we can’t just go anywhere. We will always be wanted by the law. Besides, we should have thought of that before getting involved in this stuff.”

He releases a deep exhale. “You were always my dream, my guiding light, whatever I wanted in life. I just became involved in it because I lost you and I ended up here.”

You look at him, silently. “You never say it’s ‘because I left’, only ‘because you lost me,’.”

He blinks at you. “Because I did.” His hand entangles with your own. “I was too afraid to tell you I love you, and so I lost you.”

You squeeze his fingers. “I was… also too afraid to tell you, so I passed off the responsibility to you by asking that question.”

A smile slowly spreads across his lips. “So you’ve always loved me?”

You smile. “Yes, Hyunjae. I’ve always loved you.”

He scoops you into his arms and pulls you close. He litters kisses over every inch of your face, pulling giggles from your lips.

“So since we can’t run away, how about we call a truce between our… groups?”

“Deal.”

He holds out his pinky. You laugh at the old but familiar gesture. You interlace your pinky with his. “Okay, now, deal.”

He giggles, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “I guess you’ll have to let me go so I can convince them.” His brows furrow. “Hopefully they don’t find this place and charge in.”

“Don’t worry. You haven’t found this place in years, what is one more day?”

He smiles. “You always were smarter than me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Do you think they can wait one more day, though?”

Hyunjae thinks on it. “I’ve waited for 8 years. I think they should’ve learned a thing or two from me.”

#the boyz smut #tbz smut #hyunjae smut #tbz fic #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz fics #the boyz fics #hyunjae x reader #idk how to tag

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Better Off As Lovers (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Word Count: 5,076

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), bad language, my shit writing

~~~~

salty4tsukki

said:

hello! i luv ur blog sm!! can i pls req a scenario (or hc if that’s easier) of tsukki and reader going from enemies to lovers? perhaps reader ended up doing tsukki a solid that saved his ass and that marked the turning point of their relationship? sfw+nsfw if that’s oki!! tysm in advanced :-)

~~~~

Here is some spice for you guys. I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it lol. Tsukishima is such a fucking prick, I absolutely love it. @salty4tsukki I hope this was what you had wanted, also thank you so much for your support! Requests are closing tomorrow! I’m slowly but surely making my way through all of the requests and writing stuff up. I should probably be focusing on school but ya girl is avoiding responsibilities right now lmao. I hope you guys have a wonderful weekend!😚😚😚

~~~~

“You’re literally the fucking worst.” you hissed; eyes narrowed into slits. “I bet hell gave you back to earth because you’re worse than Satan himself.”

All you got in response was a raise of a blonde eyebrow and an ignorant smirk.

“You want to get hit? Is that what you’re asking for?” You threatened, holding your fist up for emphasis.

You had never been more upset; in all honesty you probably wouldn’t have been this annoyed about the situation if it was someone else.

But because it was him, you knew that it was intentional, it wasn’t an accident as everyone else was making it seem.

“Now, now…” Koganegawa said, stepping between the two of you. “Tsukki didn’t know that was your dessert. It was an honest mistake.”

“That’s not an honest mistake Kanji!” You screeched. “I literally told everyone how excited I was to finally get my hands on that famous strawberry shortcake from that bakery! I got the last slice and he went and ate it!” you pointed at the tall blonde accusingly; who’s smirk was growing wider and wider as you wailed about the unfairness of it all.

“Can’t you just go get another one?” Kyoutani huffed, rolling his eyes from his spot on the floor.

“They’re famous for a reason Kentarou! I had to get up super early to stand in line! And even then, the line was super long! I waited for hours! You think I’m going to do that again!?” You were all but hysterical now.

You might have already been having a rough day though, and your missing cake was the cherry on top to it all.

The soft huff of a laugh caused you to whirl around, your tiny fists coming up to hit Tsukishima on his chest repeatedly.

“You’re the fucking worst!” you huffed out, frustrated tears springing to your eyes. The tall blonde was full on laughing at you now, much to your embarrassment and anger.

You couldn’t lie, it was a tad bit irrational to get so upset over a missing slice of cake. But it was a long sucky day, you were looking forward to that delicious morsel of strawberry goodness after practice, and it wasn’t fucking there.

“You’re so weak,” Tsukishima mused, easily grasping your hands in his large ones, preventing you from hitting him further.

Despite his rude words, his grip was surprisingly gentle.

You still ripped your hands away from his in anger.

“Don’t touch me, you thief.” You growled, cradling your hands against your chest, eyes glaring into the tall male.

“You’re so annoying. I already apologized.” Tsukishima said, stretching his arms above his head.

“An apology won’t bring back my cake!” You snapped, grabbing your stuff from the floor. “You’re the worst Tsukishima. Let’s go already, Kentarou.” You huffed.

The said male rolled his eyes before saying goodbye to his teammates, following you out of the gym.

You were still fuming quietly as you two walked home together.

Funnily enough, you had developed a close friendship with the small male, which resulted in him walking you home since he lived close by.

“I hate him.” You whined, tugging at the bottom of Kyoutani’s team jacket.

He swatted your hand away, causing you to whine again, reaching for him once more, he sighed in irritation but let you hold onto his jacket this time.

“You guys just need to fuck already.” He said.

You stopped walking; causing Kyoutani to be yanked back since you were holding onto his jacket.

“What the fuck Y/n?” He growled.

“I would never in a million years have sex with someone like him.” You said, face twisting in disgust.

Kyoutani had definitely lost his mind with that comment. Tsukishima was your enemy, your opposite half, the worst person that you have ever met, there was just no way.

“Are you serious?” He asked deadpanned. “It’s so disgustingly obvious you two like each other.”

You rolled your eyes at him, releasing his jacket from your grasp as you guys continued walking. “You’re blind Kentarou, we hate each other.”

“I think you’re the one who’s blind Y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow for morning practice.” he said waving goodbye to you as you entered your home.

The rest of your night was plagued with thoughts of Tsukishima, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth despite the fact that you had brushed your teeth.

There was no way that Tsukishima liked you, nor you him. You did find him incredibly attractive, but who wouldn’t? He was tall and muscular, incredibly intelligent, and he was a good volleyball player.

Of course, people would find him attractive, but his personality was anything but, to you at least.

Your first ever interaction with him was entirely unpleasant, his mocking attitude and sarcastic comments left you with the worst impression of him, and it resulted in how you felt about him now.

But then… What did Kyoutani mean about you being blind?

You screamed loudly into your pillow.

****

“You look terrible.” Tsukishima raised his eyebrow at you, taking in your disheveled form.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You muttered, rubbing at your eyes tiredly.

Tsukishima was actually quiet for once, somehow you had missed the flash of concern that shot through his eyes.

That didn’t go unnoticed by Kyoutani, who rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath how dense both of you were.

Practice ran smoothly, there surprisingly wasn’t any sarcastic comments directed at you from Tsukishima. For the most part, he left you alone today, much to your relief.

Now you were currently in one of the history classes you were a TA in. Between managing a volleyball team, and being a teaching assistant, it was no wonder you were always stressed out.

Funnily enough, Tsukishima was one of the students in that class.

“We’re going to hand back your midterm essays now.” The professor announced. You grabbed the papers from your folder and started walking around the class handing them back to the nervous students.

Your brows furrowed as you had realized that you only held three more papers in your hand, you hadn’t even given Tsukishima’s - oh. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked over at the tall male, he looked irritated, his eyes finding yours, there was a slight shake to his head.

He had never turned in the essay.

That’s right, the essay was due around the same time that volleyball practices were incredibly strenuous in preparation for some important matches.

But the midterm essay counted as a large portion of the grade, which meant that if Tsukishima received a zero, then he would fail the class, which meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to play volleyball any -

“I seemed to have made a mistake Professor.” You said. “I think I lost Tsukishima’s paper…”

What were you doing?

Shit, you could get in big trouble for this so why were you doing this?

“It’s not like you to be scatterbrained like this Y/n.” the Professor shook his head. “I swear you take on too many tasks, between this and being a team manager… Tsukishima, do you mind turning in the paper again to Y/n? Let us say… by the end of the day?”

“It’s no problem sir.” Tsukishima said quietly, eyes glancing over to you as you finished handing out the last of the essays.

“I’m sorry Tsukishima, I hope you can forgive me.” You said sweetly, bowing at him slightly.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck were you doing?

Tsukishima was taken back by your tone and your show of respect towards him, that was new.

That was… shit was he blushing? He ignored the creeping heat in his face and the slightly quicker thump of his heart. He pushed his glasses up slightly. “It’s not a problem.” he said quietly.

You nodded at him once more as you made your way back towards the front of the room, ignoring the rising blush in your own face and the racing of your own heart. You got lucky that the professor really took a liking to you as his TA, you could get away with murder when it came to this class.

Tsukishima was incredibly lucky as well, he was the top student in this class, never missed any assignments, always participated in class, so of course the professor was going to be more lenient with him.

No one would have ever guessed that he had never turned in his midterm, except you.

That was something that you didn’t understand, why would you help him out?

It was because he was just part of your team, right? You were doing this because you wanted your team to succeed right? He was one of the best players you had, so if you lost him that would hurt the team… that was why, right?

Or maybe… maybe Kyoutani was right.

Maybe, just maybe, by chance you actually did harbor a small attraction to the tall blonde.

****

The rest of the day was seemingly uneventful, and you found yourself wrapping up the evening volleyball practice.

“Hey.” an all too familiar voice called out, a sudden shadow being cast over your small form as you began picking up the volleyballs on the floor.

You glanced up to see Tsukishima looking down at you, curiosity clear in his gold eyes.

“What is it?” You asked, ignoring the quickening of your heart. What was wrong with you?

“Why did you do that?” he asked, beginning to pick up the balls.

“What do you mean?” You sighed tiredly, you just wanted to go home. You had no energy left in your body to argue with the snarky male before you.

“You knew that I didn’t turn in the paper… why did you lie to the professor like that?” He asked quietly.

“Well…” your eyes slid over to him before looking down at the ball in your hands. “I knew that the professor would cut you some slack since you are one of his favorite students… plus… it would be bad if you got a zero, right? You would’ve failed the class…” You trailed off, your eyes glancing back up at him, taking notice to the small smirk that began to cover his lips.

“- and we can’t afford to lose one of our players! You’re tall and stupid but you’re a decent player so that’s why I did it! I didn’t want to hurt the team just because you were being stupid and forgetful!” You said, voice annoyed as you all but slammed the volleyball into his arms. “Hurry up and put those away, I want to go home.” you huffed, stalking away.

You hadn’t noticed the small smile that overtook his face as he watched you walk away.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked once you guys had finished cleaning up, Kyoutani nodded, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“Hold on.” a hand grabbed the back of your jacket, yanking you back into a warm and broad chest.

You blinked up to see Tsukishima peering down at you, eyebrows raised.

You could feel your face burn at his proximity and as you stumbled away from him.

“W-What is it now?” You stuttered out.

“Here. Professor said to give it to you by the end of the day. I just had to reprint it out.” he said, handing you his midterm.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you actually did the assignment?”

“It was already done, I just forgot to submit it.” he said, shrugging.

“And I thought you were just lazy and didn’t do it at all.” You said in awe, eyes skimming through the papers.

“Don’t put me in with the likes of you.” he snorted, eyes rolling, although there was an unseen fondness swimming within those golden orbs, unseen to you at least. It was entirely apparent to Kyoutani who seemed to have a larger scowl on his face.

“Shut up stupid! I’m going to grade your paper harshly now!” you hissed, glaring at him.

“You can try,” he drawled out. “But I did the assignment perfectly. I shouldn’t get anything less than an A.”

“We’ll see.” you snapped.

****

“Stupid Tsukishima. Does he have to be perfect at everything?” You grumbled to yourself as you finished grading his paper.

He was right.

He did the assignment perfectly.

You shouldn’t have said anything to the professor, especially if he was going to be so smug about it.

Why was he so infuriating?

You could see the flash of his smirk behind your lids when you blinked, it caused your heart to race, your fist to clench tightly together. You just wanted to slap that stupid smirk off of his stupid gorgeous face and -

Damn it.

It seemed like recently your thoughts were completely consumed by him.

“Speak of the devil.” You muttered to yourself when you noticed who was calling you.

“What do you want?” You hissed.

“Oh, good you are awake.” His rang smoothly through the speaker.

“Yeah because I stayed up late to grade your midterm, so I didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend.” You huffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Well what’s the verdict?” he asked smugly.

You could feel your nostrils flaring in anger at his tone. “You got an A. Which is surprising to me since you’re the biggest moron that I know.”

“I already told you not to lump into the same category as you.”

“I’m hanging up now.” you announced, your blood boiling at his comment.

“Wait. Go open your door.” he demanded.

You frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Just do it and hurry up.” you could all but see his eyes rolling.

You huffed angrily, stalking over to your front door, and yanking it open to reveal the blonde male smirking at you.

You could feel your brows furrow as you tried to register what was happening.

Tsukishima, your enemy, was standing at the front of your home, cladded in his team jacket and joggers, and he was holding a bag.

“Took you long enough.” he said, removing the phone from his ear and stepping past you into your home.

He was already removing his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack near your front door, heading towards your kitchen.

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” he called out, never looking back.

That comment snapped you out of your confusion, you quietly closed the door, following after the blonde that was beginning to make tea like he was in his own home and not someone else's.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, eyes following his every movement.

“Just be quiet and sit down.” he said simply, and for some reason… you actually listened.

You wracked your brain for all the reasons as to why Tsukishima was in your home this late at night, using your kitchen.

You snapped back to reality when he placed a plate and a mug in front of you.

Your eyebrows raised slowly, but you couldn’t help the twinkle in your eyes as you gazed at the treat before you.

A slice of cake, but the strawberry shortcake from that bakery to be exact. The sweetness of the strawberries and cream, along with the earthy scent of the tea, caused a delicious warmth to swell up in your body.

“How did you -”

“It’s a thank you.�� he cut you off, pulling up a chair across from you, tea and cake sitting in front of him. “For helping me out with the paper.”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to stretch across your lips, Tsukishima seemed shy almost, embarrassed maybe? Whatever it was, it was a pleasant change from his usual scowl and smirk.

“Did you wait long?” you asked quietly, carefully cutting into the cake. “They aren’t even open at this hour…”

“No, the line wasn’t too bad, I went after practice finished.” he said, glancing over at you. It was a partial lie, Tsukishima did wait a long time, but he did go after practice had finished.

“Why did you wait this long to come over then?” you asked, sighing in pleasure as you took a bite.

There was a reason why this bakery was so famous for their strawberry shortcake, it was the best cake you had ever had.

“I thought you might’ve been too busy in the evening, since you promised coach you would hand in those data forms tomorrow… and the in class activity we did today… you said you would grade tonight and get it back to us Monday…” he trailed off quietly, cutting into his slice.

You blinked at him, the thumping in your heart increasing.

Since when was he so observant with you?

“Since always. You’ve just never noticed.” he said, gold eyes boring into your own.

You could feel your face heating up, shit, did you really ponder that aloud?

What was this feeling bubbling up in your gut? It burned and turned pleasantly the longer you stared at him.

A sudden shyness washed over you as you broke eye contact, eyes casting back down to the cup of tea that was now resting between your hands.

“O-Oh.”

It was silent again, it wasn’t awkward, but there was definitely something lingering heavily in the air.

You just couldn’t place your finger on it.

“You have something…” Tsukishima began to say, suddenly reaching over, his strong fingers gently grasped your chin, tilting it up, thumb beginning to brush at the corner of your lips.

Without even thinking about it, your tongue darted out, swiping across his thumb, tasting the saltiness of his skin and the sweetness of the cream that had lingered at the corner of your mouth.

Tsukishima’s eyes darkened considerably; air rushing out of his nose as he exhaled deeply. His thumb rubbing against your lower lip.

Your eyes glazed over, lips parting slightly, inviting him entrance to your mouth. Tsukishima’s thumb pushed past your lips, resting on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, your tongue gently running along the pad of his thumb.

You could feel the blood roaring in your ears, your stomach twisting in arousal.

“Fuck.” he whispered, the sound of a chair being pushed back, his thumb leaving the wetness of your mouth.

It all happened so fast, by the time you had opened your eyes Tsukishima was hauling you out of your chair and up on the counter. His large hand grasped your face firmly before slamming his lips against yours.

You gasped, allowing his tongue to snake his way in, exploring every inch of your wet cavern.

You couldn’t help the moan that tore through your throat, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, fingers sliding into the blonde locks at the back of his head, your legs wrapping around his hips.

Fuck, you couldn’t get enough of this. He was everywhere, warm and solid against your body; all you could smell was him, all you could taste was him and fuck did he taste good. You could still taste the sweetness of cream on his tongue, the tartness of the strawberries, and him.

It was intoxicating.

You were drowning in everything that was Tsukishima and fuck did you like it. The way his big hands gripped at your face, your waist, pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, it was too much.

But it also wasn’t enough.

“What are you - ahh - what are you doing?” you whimpered out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he trailed his hot lips against your throat, sucking and biting at every inch of it.

“What do you think I’m doing you idiot?” he breathed against the shell of your ear. He grinded his hips against yours causing the loud moan to escape your lips, he was hard against you.

“I don’t…” you whined softly as he grabbed your hips, pressing you tightly against his crotch, grinding against you sinfully. “I don’t understand… Tsukki… Kei.” you whined again, hips bucking up on their own, aching for more friction.

Fuck you were so wet, so hot and bothered, you needed him to touch you more.

“Fuck.” he hissed out, eyes squeezing tightly together as you whined out his name. “Fuck… you’re so infuriating. You still don’t get it do you?” he growled out, nipping at your lobe as his ragged breathing increased.

You couldn’t muster up any words, all that escaped your lips was a drawn-out moan as one of his hands reached up and massaged one of your breasts harshly.

“I like you, Y/n. I’ve liked you since the very beginning. But you never… fuck…” he hissed as you slipped a hand under his shirt, nails dragging against his smooth skin. You could feel the muscles of his stomach flexing beneath your touch, the pace of his hips increasing against yours.

“You never noticed.” he finally growled out, reaching up and yanking your shirt off your body. “The only time you ever paid attention to me was when I made you mad, you simple minded woman. It’s so easy to get you riled up…” he kissed you harshly now, teeth knocking together before he bit into your lip harshly, causing your nails to dig further into his chest.

“But then in class when you lied straight-faced to the professor… and then when you looked at me with that sweet expression, and those wide eyes… I couldn’t help but wonder what other kinds of faces you can make for me.” he finished quietly. His breathing was labored, and his lips were swollen but the intensity of his gaze caused your body to squirm.

“What do you say?” he asked, his voice deep and rough, his grip on you was still tight, but his hips had stilled, he was pulled back slightly from you, allowing you space to breathe.

“Please.” You whimpered out, tears springing up in your eyes, you were too riled up now, body too hot and aching for release.

You needed him. You needed Tsukishima to touch you more, you needed him to whisper filth into your ear, you needed to feel his skin sliding against yours, and most of all, you needed him be buried deep inside of you.

“I need to hear you say it Y/n.” He grasped your jaw, angling your face up to his as he stared down at you. “Say it.”

You could feel your lower lip quivering, you were aching for it, aching for him. “Kei please! Just - just fuck me already!” you wailed. “What are you waiting for!? Just fuck m-” he yanked you off of the counter, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he carried you to your couch, dropping you down haphazardly before his hands were everywhere, ripping the clothes off your body until you were completely bare.

He stared shamelessly at your nakedness, eyes running over every curve of your body. His hands rested on your bent needs, pulling them open and staring openly at your glistening cunt.

“Don’t look.” you whimpered, moving one of your hands to cover yourself up. He easily knocked your hand away.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” he said as he moved to remove the rest of his clothing.

Tsukishima was beautiful, long, and lean, his muscular frame exposed to your greedy eyes as you scanned his body.

Your lips trembled at the sight of his stiff member, leaking precum and standing painfully tall.

He grasped his cock lazily, his hand easily sliding up and down his shaft as he gazed down at you. His other hand reached down to gather the obscene amount of wetness that was gathering between your legs.

“You’re soaked,” he moaned, eyes flashing dangerously. “You want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to taste you?”

You could feel your mouth run dry at his questions.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly, his large hand coming down to swat at your thigh. You gasped the stinging sensation, your arousal spiking dramatically.

“Answer me.” he demanded.

Your lips trembled, eyes glazing over with unshed tears, you were so pent up, you needed something, anything that would provide you with some kind of release.

It was only for a moment, but there was a flash of gentleness, the hand that had swatted at your thigh rubbed at the skin tenderly.

“You’re so beautiful.” he said quietly, and then he was moving to situate himself between your legs, grasping at your thighs before his head ducked down and his hot tongue licked a strip up your soaked slit until it rested on your clit.

You moaned loudly; your head being thrown back as your body trembled with pleasure.

His tongue lapped lazily against you, flickering up and down against that swollen bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping further down, sliding into your entrance, tasting you completely before sliding back up.

It didn’t take long for you to get close to your orgasm. Your body was taut, aching for release. It was too much almost; your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, you couldn’t tell if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer.

All you knew was that he was giving you everything right now. Tsukishima pulled your clit into his mouth now, sucking hard, his front teeth gently brushing against it.

Your legs were tense, thighs quacking as you approached your release, the quiet room was filled with your drawn out moans and pants, wet slurping noises escaping your lower half as Tsukishima all but devoured your cunt completely.

You came with a cry, body convulsing against the cushions of the couch, thighs trying to close together, squeezing tightly against Tsukishima’s head. You whimpered brokenly as you tried to wiggle yourself away from the blonde that was still sucking at your clit, but his grip was tight, refusing to let you go, forcing your over sensitive cunt to produce another orgasm.

In the midst of it all, he yanked himself away, lining his stiff cock against your swollen entrance and then snapping his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely.

A loud cry tore through your lips, you were still in the middle of your orgasm when he entered, your slick gushing out around him and spilling onto the cushions below.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he breathed watching you in awe as you struggled to adapt to his size.

“Fuck you are.” he moaned, your tight walls fluttering around him as your third one ripped through your body. “I can’t believe you came again just from me entering you.” he breathed out, hands resting on your hips.

Tsukishima gave you no time to adjust, his hips snapping forward harshly as he set a brutal pace.

You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your fingers gripping at the couch, needing something, anything to hold on to.

His cock rubbed against your walls perfectly, your body having no time to keep up with his movement, the stretch burned, the pleasure toe curling. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, keeping him closer.

Suddenly your world shifted, Tsukishima hauled your body up, forcing you to sit on top of his thick member. You cried out loudly, this new position caused his cock to rub up inside of you at a new angle.

He never stopped, his large hands gripped at your hips now, forcing you up and down as you rode him, his hips snapping up to meet the downwards roll of your hips.

All you could do was grip at his broad shoulders weakly, struggling to keep up with his pace, struggling to adjust to the new depth that he reached within you.

But you couldn’t. You could hardly breathe, you couldn’t think of anything except for Tsukishima and the pleasure he was giving you.

“Look at you.” he groaned, eyes never leaving your face. “You make the sweetest faces when I’m inside of you.”

“Kei…” You sobbed. “Please.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking for at this point, the pleasure was mind numbing, the room was filled with sounds of your moans and his grunts, the wet squelching noises of your cunt as it was being stuffed over and over again was something that might’ve embarrassed you if you had the time to even think about it.

But you didn’t, all you could think about was unraveling again, all you could think about Tsukishima Kei. Your enemy, the most annoying man you had ever met, but he was also the most intelligent man you had ever met, the most beautiful man you had ever met, and now he was the only man that you ever wanted to receive pleasure from.

You came again with a loud sob, gushing around him, dripping onto his upper thighs, body trembling against his as you collapsed on top of his chest.

He groaned your name loudly, thrusting up sharply into your cunt once more before spilling himself into your hot center.

It felt like time had stopped around you as you struggled to catch your breath. You weren’t sure how long it was that you guys stayed like this.

But you have never been more tired, more comfortable in your entire life than right now.

You could feel your eyes drooping down, your face buried into the crook of his neck, his long fingers gently tracing delicate patterns into the skin of your back.

Tsukishima shifted, easily picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, his member still buried deep inside of you. You vaguely remember answering his question about where the bathroom was and soon you found yourself perched up on the bathroom counter.

You could feel his cum slowly leaking out of your swollen cunt, trickling down your leg as he gently cleaned you up. You didn’t even remember how you ended up in your bed, but now you were curled up against the tall blonde, wrapped up in the security of his arms as he rubbed your back gently.

“I still hate you Kei.” you mumbled against his chest, sighing softly before pressing your lips into his smooth skin.

“I know.” he smirked against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Go to sleep. We’ll go and get breakfast tomorrow.”

Okay maybe you didn’t hate him, but he was still infuriating to you.

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