Latest Posts by maboiisuga - Page 4

Patreon + Unsaid Vow Update

Hi guys!

Hope you are all doing well, I have a really good feeling for October and I hope you do too :)

I recently made a Patreon and it's under review, once it gets approved I can officially post my teirs.

Right now here is what I am thinking;

$10 USD for Beta reading + Early Access

$5 USD for Early Access

So beta reading entails access to my works in progress, and you get to help me! I often need ppl to bounce ideas off of, as well as just overall another set of eyes to catch grammatical errors and so on. Right now I'm leaning towards just giving these people commenting abilities on my WIP, as well as starting a little discord chat for brainstorming!

Early access is for when the chapter is completed and fully beta-read. Before I upload it on Tumblr, you will have access to the chapter a full two weeks before it's uploaded on here. Also, I'm thinking of adding some scenes just for the early-access people. Most likely smut, but I don't know that yet as I go where the story takes me lol.

Okay, onto what you've all been waiting for... The Unsaid Vow

I currently have 4.7k down for the first part, so this would be the perfect time to get some beta readers on the doc. And then yes, when it's fully finished, I'd like to provide early access.

Then maybe next month (since teirs are billed monthly), I will do the same for These Things Take Time or Quarter Quell or even Unsaid Vow again, depending on what my patrons want.

So if this is something you'd be interested in, please stay tuned~

┌─ “ ! „ DECAY

tw. ddlg, noncon, daddy kink, dom & sub themes, forced threesome, patronization, manipulation, objectification, size kink wordcount. 4.4k

a/n. ♡ i wish i could have done more about this idea but i gave myself a bit of a word count limit for kinktober but don't be surprised if i end up writing more for this in the future jhydgusgfy i wanted to go more extreme but i was a bit bummed by the self imposed limitations kHdyugs iT IS What it is ily thank you for reading

miya atsumu x fem!reader x miya osamu

You’re pouting somethin’ fierce, and thick crocodile tears bead your lash line like diamonds.

Osamu’s not entirely sure when it started. If it started at all. Maybe things just happened to play out this way, and it was entirely coincidental, a whisper in the grander scheme of your relationship with his brother - all too small to mention. Maybe safer to say, he’s not sure when he started noticing it— but once he began, there was nothing to keep him from seeing it too vividly in every interaction.

You’ve been with Tsumu since your last year together in high school. Stuck with him through thick and thin, every busy month, each and every match and scandal and fallout - and Osamu’s nothing but grateful for that. You make him happy, Hell, even a blind man could see how the blond blossoms open when you’re around. Becoming a more grown, dependable version of himself. Some days Osamu blinks and it’s like his mirror image has far surpassed his own grounded maturity, leaving him behind in the dust. And it’s definitely you that brings that out in him - and he’s grateful.

But — he remembers the early days. More than maybe anyone else, Osamu remembers that it wasn’t always this way. You were definitely more soft and gentle than they were as teens, but you were no shrinking violet either. A decade ago, Atsumu would’ve been caught dead underestimating ya like he does with a glitter in his eye now. Like it’s a game the two of you are clued in on. Osamu’s eyes glide over the scene painted before him, sipping his beer from the couch.

“Aw, pet, you’ve gotta watch where yer goin’. C’mere, did that hurt?” Atsumu is knelt before you, cupping your face between two rough palms, as he kisses up and down your face. Your wobbly sniffles get hidden in his chest when he pulls you in, and rubs your back like you’re a toddler with a scraped knee. Your hands fist into his shirt before you take a deep breath, going up in his warmth. And his twin beams like he’s the happiest man on the planet, before going to pick you up with a bit too much practiced ease.

Osamu’s not against the pda. You’ve always been touchy, and Tsumu’s a clingy bastard at the best of times. “‘M so sorry, baby. Daddy almost walked straight over ya.” It’s more that he has a problem with. He looks away when Atsumu’s hands slide down to grip your ass and squeeze you extra close, looking down for another kiss that you give like it’s been practiced a hundred times. He’s not sure if the slight pout you have on is truly the pain though, or more the embarrassment he can see creep up your ears and cheeks.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way,” you whisper back, and by the time Osamu looks up Atsumu has made it back to the couch with a fresh beer, with you now positioned on his lap and wrapped around him like a baby koala. You don’t look over at him though, barely acknowledging the strange situation. Almost makes him feel like he’s the one that’s out of place, even though he came over on Atsumu’s request. Even though he was invited.

Samu takes another chug of his drink, before raising his brows, leaning in with an attempt to catch your eyes. “Yer not gonna have any? ‘S yer fridge we’re looting.” You only disconnect yourself from Atsumu’s chest to look at him with heat on your cheeks, perfectly treated hair shining as it falls along your shoulders.

“No, thank you. Atsum- uhm- d-daddy doesn’t let me have any unless we’re going out. It makes me get all bloated, so ‘s better I don’t.” Your long lashes flutter, before you smile again, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Samu.” There’s a beat of silence where his twin seems to give him a look -one he can’t really make out- where Atsumu puts his own beer aside to pull you closer by your hips and wrap his arms around you like you’re best molten to his front. “Hey,” you whisper then, and Atsumu looks up, “can I move? My knees hurt a little like this.”

“‘S that right? Ya wanna turn so you can look at Samu too?” His brilliant smile is almost bright enough to make him ignore the possessive hands that travel too far down when helping you turn, or the almost-subtle groan he lets out when you wiggle back onto his lap. Osamu stares off into the kitchen instead. “You wanna sit ‘n look at someone else ‘cause I won’t do anything. Is daddy not good ‘nough? Maybe I spoil ya a lil’ too rotten.”

“‘M not rotten~, I do like sitting in your lap,” you squeak out almost sadly, starting to leave little pecks all over Atsumu’s lips as if to shut him up. That would probably be good, Osamu thinks. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility that you’re actually tempering him, but it sure does seem like it. “I’m just tired.” And though your voice drops to an almost whisper, he’s too aware of your pouted, glossy lips to not hear every word. Your hands trail through his hair, sliding down his neck with each slow breath. “Just- Daddy, don’t be upset. I’m trying my best.”

You look almost pained to say it, not that his twin cares. “Please don’t get mad.” Anything else passes over Osamu’s head. He just places the empty bottle by his feet and tries to ignore the way you’re now draped onto Atsumu’s lap like you two will start dry humping any second.

“‘M not mad, pretty girl.” The blond grabs two handfuls of ass and rocks your waist against him, making you squeak, before he runs his tongue along his teeth with a noise. “I’m just thinkin’ that I don't want Samu ta see ya like this.”

You whimper when Atsumu’s mouth glides along your jaw and throat, falling back into the couch -crown brushing Osamu’s thigh- when his twin pushes and presses a few kisses down your throat and chest. “Alright, let’s go out.” Then he pulls back flushed, and gets you up along with him. “Before daddy ends up fucking that pretty pussy with a live audience.” He ushers you towards the door with a few pats on your butt. “Go an’ get yer shoes, I’ll tie yer laces for ya, little girl.”

“I- I can really do it myself, ‘s fine.”

It only makes Atsumu puff out his chest, and stare you down with a hungry stare. “Go on, baby. Yer little enough to need my help.” You don’t say anything, but there’s a tense breath of silence that covers the room before you look away with shame written all over your expression.

Osamu’s too speechless to do much but just stare at the side of his brother’s face, who barely shows any emotion other than enjoyment at all. Seriously. It’s not like you to let someone just walk all over you. Or at least, it wasn’t like you, as far as he was concerned. Things have clearly changed. He frowns. “Do ya really have ta talk about ‘er like that when I’m around, stupid Tsumu? Keep it in yer pants, wouldya?”

Instead of the normally snappy reply that he’d expect, the blond just shrugs, tugging at his waistband like the tightness is a little uncomfortable. “Can’t help it. She’s so fuckin’ cute whinin’ and crying out for me.” Brown irises find Osamu’s, and he smiles. “You’d feel the same if ya saw what she can do.” He pats his thighs when you come back from the hall, and holds out his hands. “Come ‘ere, little princess. Daddy’ll dress ya right up.”

+

Your frilly little implication of a dress is bunched around your hips as he lets you down from another bear hug, and puts on a slight pout. “I’ll be back soon, baby. They need an emergency setter for just an hour of practice. Maybe two.”

“It’s never just one hour.”

The overly whiny request only makes Atsumu glitter more, as his eyes flick down your body and his tongue is caught between his teeth. Truly, the guy has absolutely no decency. This was supposed to be a fun weekend away from work for the three of ya. Not that Atsumu seems bothered by that. After a few seconds he kisses your forehead though, letting you lean into his arms and looking ever so teenie tiny compared to your boyfriend -they’ve both filled out in both size and muscle since high school after all- and it becomes even more apparent when Tsumu squeezes you under his chin. “If ya need anything ya’ll ask Samu, alright? Just pretend he’s me.”

You bat your lashes at him, but let your grip on him slowly be peeled off. “... Okay. Can I have dinner while you’re gone?”

“Hm, sure.” The blond runs his fingers through his hair. “Daddy’s gonna miss ya. I’m not gonna be gone fer long.” Then he eyes him with a grin that Osamu kind of wants to slap off of his cheeks. “Thanks for ‘sittin ‘er.” He doesn’t reply with a smart remark about him treating you like a dog, and just gives a vague hum instead. With that he gives the brunet a quick wave, and gathers his phone and keys on his way to the door. You linger around the entrance a bit longer, before slowly returning to the dinner table with slightly heated cheeks. You tuck your knees to your chest when you sit and reach for one of the side dishes — and he can’t help but say it when the door falls into lock.

“So, what’s all that about?”

“Hm?” Your head drops to the side slightly as you put some pickled radish in your mouth and hum. “Mm, this ‘s really good, Samu! Can I have some?”

“Help yerself,” he nods, and also slides the plates you can’t reach closer. It’s not like he doesn’t understand it at all. You’ve got that sort of puppy-eyes look down, big and round and soft wherever you look, no matter who you’re talking to. It’s the kind of gentleness that calls for protection, and he’s not even the possessive type, but despite that the feeling of being needed sits on his chest and longs to come out. But still. He can’t help but think Atsumu’s overplaying his cards. “Seriously though. You know ya can tell my shitty brother no, right? I’ll straighten ‘em out for ya.”

The words seem to process for a moment, before you load some more food onto your utensils and swallow it with a little noise of thoughtfulness. “I- I don’t know. Atsumu says he likes being the provider. At first it was just little stuff he helped with, and I thought it was nice to be cared for.” You fumble a little with the chopsticks when a piece of fish is extra slippery, and smile when he helps you out and picks it up, carrying it towards your mouth. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve fed myself instead of Tsumu doing it for me,” you softly mention. That’s weird, ain’t it? That’s definitely weird.

Still he’s carrying the food to your mouth, and be it instinct, or habit, you look too fuckin’ sweet waiting like a puppy for him to help out, big, doe-eyes and all.

You let the piece onto your tongue, before wrapping those pretty lips around and gratefully humming and — fuck. You don’t notice the way his brow ticks, but his stomach rolls with the realization. Instead of lingering too long on the implication that he might feel the same exact way as his twin, he lets you talk, after chewing for a while. “I just- I don’t like that he doesn’t ever take me seriously anymore. He thinks I can’t do anything by myself, even brushing my own teeth, or picking out clothes! It’s so- so frustrating-” you continue until you run out of air, and seem to suddenly realize who you’re talking to. “Oh, don’t tell Atsumu that. Please don’t tell him. He gets so upset and I don’t like it when he’s mad.”

Samu can’t help but just nod in agreement, not sure what else to say. He doesn’t think his brother would ever hurt ya. Then again, Samu also didn’t think his brother was much of a kink lifestyle sort of guy until the last few months— so clearly he doesn’t know everything anymore. And you seem… okay with it, right? He’s not sure, really. Would he even have the guts to tell Tsumu off if he was sure you weren’t? Instead of lingering on that uncomfortable possibility, he pivots. “Let’s watch somethin’? What do ya wanna see?”

Your eyes shimmer when they flick up, and you swallow before smiling. “Can I choose?” You wiggle in your seat. “Atsumu -w-well- daddy doesn’t let me watch scary stuff, but I’ve been dying to watch the Ring again.” You then lean into his space a little more, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “I assume I don’t have to snuggle up to you though? He did say to pretend you’re him but…” You wrap your thin sweater a little closer. “I’ll hold your hand? He can’t get mad that way.”

How can he say no when you’re staring at him with those fucken stars in your eyes? His fingers find yours on the table, and your hand feels way smaller and softer than his own work-worn ones. “Yeah, sure. But ya shouldn’t watch nothin’ ta give ya nightmares though…” The urge to pick you up and wrap you nice and safe in his embrace becomes stronger by the second, and his eyebrows furrow.

+

Atsumu is quick to descend on you in the safety of the separate room. His hands glide down your sides and hike up your shirt over your arms, before running his fingertips down the valley of your breasts. “Samu was nice to ya?”

“Mhm,” you bop your head a few times, shivering when the cooler air peaks your nipples and Tsumu brushes his thumb over them. “He was- r-really- ah daddy, that tickles.” Your voice trembles when he eyes you down, before letting his fingers trail down to your shorts instead. He motions your butt up and you lift yourself politely, letting him slide those down your legs too as he lifts one and starts placing kisses down your ankle up your leg. “You said we’d get ready for bed~”

“We are gettin’ ready,” his smile goes a little crooked when you bite your lip, “just curious ‘s all. Ya think Samu likes ya?” He lets you fall back onto the plush covers before walking into the ensuite and coming back with some skincare that he places unceremoniously onto the bedside table- and you frown. If your boyfriend asked you a few years ago, you’d assume he was just genuinely curious. About you getting along with his family, his twin, his other half. But now, there’s an agenda woven into the words. Always is.

“We get along well. Why?”

His lips jerk up, and with a simple shrug he continues. “He’s good too ya, ain’t he? An’ I’ve been thinking I want Samu to watch us some time.” You’re too shocked to say anything, but your mouth drops open. No.

No, it’s already embarrassing how he makes you whine and whimper like a pet for him when you’re alone. It’s embarrassing when he makes you call him daddy when there’s people around with no shame- like he gets off on it. But this- his hands find your face with a soaked cotton pad to start cleaning you with gentle motions, and you find your eyes starting to water. You hate that you’ve become this fragile little flower that can’t speak up when it matters. You’d like to think you’re still the same. But your lip wobbles too easily as Atsumu continues, and your voice cracks.

The mortification is too much to bear, it swallows you up whole. He couldn’t possibly make you. “I don’t want that.”

“What’s that?” he coos, eyelids hooded. He leans down to you more.

You push his hand away from your face and frown, but tears still spill over. You fucking hate being such a crybaby. “I don’t want Samu to watch us.” You still frown though, doing your best to blink away the waterworks. And instead of taking you seriously - of course - Tsumu tilts his head in that sort of understanding that you’re throwing a tantrum like a toddler might. But you’re serious. You mean it. His freshly washed hair falls over his brows, but his hands still find your shoulders to keep you in place below him.

“Aw, baby. Poor girl.” The soft rubbing of his thumb along your skin only makes you more shaky in that feeling, his eyes roaming your body before he pushes you back onto the bed and crawls onto it beside you, pulling you into his touch. It doesn’t escape you that you’re already naked and he’s still dressed, keeping you tight. “I didn’t mean to upset ya. Shhh, shhh, it’s okay.” You swallow, and push against his chest with a slight whimper - why can’t he take you seriously?

“I mean it, Atsumu.”

Before you can say anything else he pinches your cheek hard, and his dark brows lace together. “Don’t be rude.” The darkness fades quickly, but he still doesn’t show any intention of letting you go. In fact, because of his strength against you you’re only forced deeper into his embrace, head pressed to his warm chest. “Daddy’ll take care of you. Always do, don’t I?” You open your mouth to retort, but he interrupts again, and squishes your cheeks together before placing a few patient kisses onto your pouty lips. “Listen to daddy. It’ll be fine.”

It’s so frustrating.

You want to move. You want to remove yourself from the situation he’s putting you in, or put on some fucking clothes, and instead you’re being mocked by him. Once more you try to give him a push for some space, but because he barely feels it or pretends not to, you don’t make a dent. “Tsumu, I don’t want to have sex with your brother watching~” you end up crying out, feeling the tears well up again. “Get off of me.” You start wiggling, as his hand wraps around your wrist and forces it to wrap around his body, clamping your hands together behind his back as he rolls over and starts kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be okay.” You want him to leave you alone. “My sweet little girl. You don’t gotta fight me, ‘m not doin’ nothing. I’m here for ya.” His heartbeat is so steady against you that it makes you want to shove him and scream in his face to fuck off, but of course you don’t. You don’t scream. You don’t push, or fight, or make yourself clear. All you can do is cry into his shirt as his smell wraps around you and you struggle to make the waterworks stop.

“Let go~” you sniffle into his shirt, and shiver when his hands start sliding down to pull you back onto him, forcing his thick, strong thigh between your legs. Your straining muscles give up after a while of pushing back, and his embrace still stays.

“Shush, little baby. I got ya, don’t worry yer pretty little head.”

“Daddy~” you whine softer this time, and don’t fight him when he nudges you face up to kiss him. He groans for a moment in what can only be satisfaction at winning the fight, before rolling over so you’re trapped under his heavy body, chest rising and falling against him. And as you try to stop crying, Atsumu has the nerve to rub your head like all of this isn’t his fault.

+

You can’t escape the heavy gaze anywhere you look. It’s suffocating. Not that you have much room to think about it between the way Tsumu’s taking up your space and forcing one of your legs over his shoulder so he can spread you open. It’s a brief reprieve from the prying eyes blocked by his broad back, but you know it will end. Because Tsumu didn’t just drag his twin here to know that someone’s watching. He wants to make a show of you. To show off the type of power he- oh. Your half-lidded eyes flutter open wider when his fingers spread open your slick and your pussy clenches around nothing.

And Atsumu grins. “Yer so quiet, baby. Are’ya shy?” You don’t answer that, instead trying to chase after his hand when he moves away, wrapping comparatively small hands around his wrist. You can feel the heat of Samu at the foot of the bed, uncomfortably perched onto it with his knee before he dips the mattress further, and your blinks get more rapid.

“Daddy… I- I don’t-”

“Hush,” he moves your other leg aside more, leaving you spread embarrassingly open before he dips his body and glides both hands under your ass, lifting you a few inches. His mouth descends without thinking, kisses and then tongue making you whimper as he eats you out. Not gently, but possessive, demanding licks that drag your split attention right back to him - only until Samu leans forward a little to get a better view. This is so fucking embarrassing. “Mh- Taste good, pretty thing.” Atsumu’s eyes have that same cocky, knowing look he always does when he gets you like this. You won’t do anything back, and he knows that. “Yer droolin’ all over my chin.”

You are. The slick’s coating his lips when he pulls back, trailing kisses up your thighs, before he slides two fingers inside your squelching pussy traitorously slow, and watches your face scrunch. He’s big. He always is, and knows it too, big hands, big thighs, chest, shoulders. Most of all, he’s fucked you enough times now to know that you can’t take him easily without prep, and even that is embarrassing. You could have gone a whole lifetime without having Osamu know that. Why did he even agree to this?

“Little brat,” Tsumu says after a few seconds, flicking your nipple painfully as he stares, clenching his jaw. “Don’t be rude. Samu came all the way out here to see ya, ‘n yer gonna lock up the whole time?” You swallow, and try to talk, but he instead curls his fingers inside your pussy and slides them deeper. Right where you can’t handle them, until you have no choice but to curl and wiggle away from him, mouth pulling open to moan.

“Ah, agh, daddy! Daddy, daddy.” Samu’s broad shouldered figure being barely dressed in a tank and boxers, along with Atsumu’s almost godly physique hanging over you is too much. You shut your eyes. “I can’t- f-focus.” You hold onto his arm as he fucks his fingers in and out of you for long enough that your entire body starts tingling, before he peels you off and turns you over. Rough hands hike you onto your knees, and your ass up in the air before his rough palm lands hard and sends a stinging heat through your legs. “Ow, ow~”

“That’s more like it. I know yer a noisy little bitch.” He rubs your lips up and down with his thumb a few more times, before you hear the sound of boxers being peeled off. “Now, what do ya say when daddy will give ya something ya want?”

He presses the hot head of his cock against you but doesn’t push in yet, and your poor pussy clenches around nothing as tears fill your eyes and you grip two fistfuls of pillow. You can’t say it. Not with Samu sitting right there, judging you both for- another sharp spank makes you shiver, and you whimper into the pillow. The sting aches until heat blooms under the damaged skin, and you unclench your teeth. “Please, daddy? Please fuck me.” You doubt you’re stretched enough to take him comfortably, even with the fingering and all the wetness coating your puffy pussy and the inside of your thighs. “Pretty please?”

There’s a few moments before his hand presses down on your back and his cock slides inside, and you do your best not to gasp too much feeling him force you open. It aches though, and you have to widen your knees to make room and— God it feels so good. You’re not sure whether to cry because of the feeling, or because you can’t stop yourself from moaning high pitched and whiny like a whore putting on her best performance. You really can’t help it. “Agh, ah- d-daddy, move, please.” The heavy weight of his cock bottoms out and he presses his heavy balls against you for a few seconds, before pulling out with a groan.

The motion pulls your entire body back, only stopped by his hand, like you’re some cocksleeve— and you cry harder. “Ah, ah, ugh— Atsumu,” you pout, and he pets your head.

“I’m right here, doll. Does that feel good?” You nod, and cling on, before opening your eyes to look at him with his thighs right next to your head and stroking his cock with an almost torturous pace. You whimper when being bottomed out into, and then your eyes shoot open. You can’t turn, but the low groan Samu lets out when you clench hard around him, says enough— and Tsumu laughs as he watches you panic and your bottom lip wobble, petting your head. Like this is all some big game, keeping you down under his hand while you shake your head.

“No, no- you said- you said he’d watch- agh, daddy! No, no no no, you promised! You promised.” You can’t stop yourself from moaning when he hits deep inside, fucking you much too well. Your mouth falls open as you try to stop the sound, but Tsumu’s touch only gets more demanding as his twin picks up the pace.

“Shhh, shhh, Samu likes ya so~ much. It’s just this one time. And then daddy’ll take good care of ya, promise.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

Sooo adorable

LOVE TRAIN: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS | BAKUGO KATSUKI

✮ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ SYNOPSIS: bakugo katsuki could never find the right time to confess to you. however, that all changes the moment the love train invites both of you on a trip.

✮ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ CONTENT: afab!reader (she/her) ! childhood friends to lovers ! pre-dystopian aspects, robots & artificial intelligence ! size kink, cumplay, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, nipple play, pussyjob, claiming, unprotected sex. + 6.25k words !

KINKTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST ! here's the first installment of this year's kinktober. im starting it off light and sweet with my baby boy bakugo. it's all lovey dovey more than anything else uwu!

to: bakugokatsuki@gmail.com

from: invite@lovetrain.com 

YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO ATTEND THE LOVE TRAIN!

The Love Train is a transportation system designed to assist those in or pursuing romantic relationships. This four hour program, at minimum, helps absolve any obstacles that we’ve seen to be causing hindrance to the relationship. In the time taken to make amends, there will be lengthy activities to help you progress.

According to our database, you have been yearning after your childhood friend, Your First & Last Name. We want to help you confess! 

Do you accept this invitation, Bakugo Katsuki?

Yes or No.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

BAKUGO KATSUKI HAS INVITED YOU TO ATTEND THE LOVE TRAIN, A ROMANTIC TRAIN RIDE FOR TWO! 

Am I reading this correctly? Staring at your screen, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The Love Train, you’ve heard about it. The raves and reviews are all positive, no rating lower than a four. Your friends that went on there are now happily married, having returned with the most lovesick smiles on their faces. 

You had always hoped to be given an invite. From what you’ve heard, the Love Train is an exclusive experience to which they have to reach out to you first or your partner must invite you. Seeing how Bakugo has invited you, he must’ve been the lucky one. But, why you?

Exiting out of your emails, you call Bakugo immediately, having his number on speed dial.

“What d’ya want?” he greets, ruckus happening in the background. Putting the phone on speaker, you return back to the email and read through it. You’re trying to see if you read it wrong, but it clearly reads your name as well as Bakugo’s.

“Did you mean to invite me to this thing?” You head straight to the point, dropping yourself down on the couch and reaching for the remote as you rest your phone on the arm of the couch. “Or are you just fucking with me?”

There's silence before he speaks. As if he knows exactly why you’re calling him. “What’re ya talkin’ about?” He asks, trying to keep that same tone in his voice, not wanting to give anything away.

“This invite to the Love Train?” you speak. “It says here that you’ve invited me for a ‘romantic train ride for two.’ What’s this about?”

“Oh,” he feigns recognition, conjuring a story that you’ll hopefully believe. “Yeah, they sent me an offer to join and said I could bring whoever I choose. And I chose you.”

“Katsuki,” you frown. “That’s not funny. If you’re doing this for shits and giggles, that’s not cute. Do you know how rare this opportunity is?”

“So what?” Bakugo drawls. “It’ll be fun. What? You worried I might kiss ya?”

Your face heats up at that, scoffing as you try to play it cool and fan off his jibe. “No!” you exclaim. “I’m just saying. Shouldn't you have chosen someone that you’re in a relationship with? What happened to, uh, Kirishima? He was a nice guy.”

“Didn’t work out,” Bakugo answers shortly. “We’re more like friends than anything else. Anyway, who says the Love Train can’t be for friends, huh? We can spend the time getting to know more about each other.”

“We practically know everything about each other, ‘Suki,” you deadpan. “What else more don’t I know about you?”

“Ya never know,” Bakugo quips. “Also, it’s an all expenses paid experience— free food and drinks and shit like that. Why would ya want to try and pass it down?”

Bakugo’s reasoning is quick to sway you, though the sound of free food and drinks always gets you out of the house. Though you think Bakugo should find someone else to go with, you don’t want to miss this opportunity. What if you never get another invite at all? 

“So,” Bakugo breaks the silence. “You coming or what? Did I really waste an invite on ya?”

“I’m coming,” you decide. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

Bakugo is always early to everything, so it’s no surprise to you to see him already at the train station. His ash blond hair is styled in its typical haggard state, something he’s able to easily pull off. A man who regularly works out, he stands tall and makes everyone feel like dwarves. 

You’ve dressed casually, in a simple dress that falls right above your knees. Bakugo, on the other hand, is dressed like he’s on a date. A navy blue, long-sleeved button up and charcoal slacks, he’s overdressed. Considering that the last conversation the two of you had, you both agreed that this was a casual thing. However, you quickly replace whatever apprehensive thoughts you have with ‘Oh, he’s just playing the part.’ And with a roll of your eyes, you go to approach him.

“Well, well, well,” you smirk. “Don’t you look quite dashing.”

Bakugo was nervous the moment he arrived, sweating profusely as his breathing is unsteady. He’s never been like this before, so he panicked, fanning his underarms while trying not to seem pathetic about it. It’s not even that hot out, he grunts as his chest heaves. 

When you had called him the week prior, he never expected you to react the way you did. He didn’t know what to expect exactly, but the way he envisioned it, you would’ve accepted the invite with no hesitation and no questions asked. The fact that you seemed apprehensive about the entire ordeal made him grow nervous, trying to cancel it altogether, only to find out that he couldn’t. 

First receiving the invite, he didn’t know what to take it for. It must’ve been a scam. Though it was short and didn’t go into too much detail, it caught him off guard to know that the internet knew of his feelings toward you. How’d they know your entire name? That we’ve been friends since childhood? This must be some sort of prank? 

So, he called Denki right after. “Whatever the fuck you just sent me, it’s not fucking funny, Shit-for-Brains.”

“Woah,” Denki gasps, taken aback. “Woah, woah! What’re you talking about, dude?”

“This Love Train bullshit,” Bakugo reads off his laptop. “This shit ain’t funny. Trying to play with my feelings by putting Y/N’s name. That’s where I draw the line at yer stupid prank.”

“I didn’t do anything—” And another caller rolls in. Your name reading off the caller ID. Hanging up on Denki, Bakugo lets out a deep breath before answering the call. “What d’ya want?”

He lied to you, not wanting you to know that he never sent an invite. He was contemplating on telling you the truth, telling you that he just received the email at the same time as you. However, the more you went on about the Love Train being serious, he wanted to take this opportunity. He wanted to make the most about it.

However, every minute that he has to wait is a moment that’s swallowing him whole. Anxiety ensues him. Something that he’s never felt before, always confident in his choices. Until today. He’s ready to go, the time nearing 4:30 pm and every second that passes, this heavy feeling on his chest is starting to overweight him.

Standing abruptly, he feels himself collide with someone else. “Shit,” he curses. “Are ya— Oh, yer here.”

And whatever nerves he felt before, he hides them with ease. His breathing finally steadies at the sight of you, fixing a scowl on his face as he holds a hand out for you. You have fallen down on the concrete with a screech. “What took ya so long?”

“So, you can’t say sorry?” You groan, accepting his open hand to help you up. Dusting off your dress, you nudge Bakugo with a pout. “That really hurt.”

“Sorry,” he finally apologizes. “I didn’t see ya.”

“You’re forgiven,” you sigh before there’s a silence between the two of you. Looking over at him, you remember what you were trying to tell him before he knocked you off your feet. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Huh?” His palms are sweating now. Wiping them off on his slacks, the time finally reads 4:30 pm and the train has yet to arrive. He’s being impatient, he knows, but the quicker he gets this over with, the sooner he’ll know your response. “No, I didn’t.”

“Before you practically pushed me down,” Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “I said, ‘don’t you look quite dashing.’ Why’re you so dressed up? I thought we agreed that we were just going as friends.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo gulps. “But, I wanted to look the part. Can’t have people lookin’ at me weird when we’re getting on the Love Train.”

“I didn’t know you cared about what people think,” you raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing smirk.

“Yeah well,” he rubs the back of the neck. “I don’t want people thinking I don’t dress up for my girl— even if yer not.”

Your stomach twists, ignoring the last bit of his sentence. My girl, you can’t help but imagine that. Being his girl. It sounds nice. 

“And, aren’t ya a little dressed up, too?” He challenges, giving you a once over. “Never have you ever worn a dress around me before. Did ya dress up for me, doll?”

Getting flustered, you’re taken aback. As you’re at a loss for words, there’s the deep rumbling of a train ready to arrive. People are starting to empty the station, the crowds getting smaller and smaller. Before you can throw back whatever remark you can at Bakugo, there’s a train hurdling in your way. A pretty hue of dusty pink that you can only assume is the Love Train. 

“I think that’s us,” Bakugo says, reaching for your hand as the fast vehicle comes to a screeching halt. Head turned left, he can’t see how your eyes have widened at the physical contact. His large hands envelope yours, gripping onto them tightly. Your heart races as you look up at him, and just as the door before you opens, you start to question this entire situation. Is this right?

Before the two of you can step on the train, an invisible barrier stops you as the lights turn red. “Show your tickets, please,” comes the robotic voice from the intercoms. 

“Oh yeah,” Bakugo breathes, pulling out his phone before glancing over at you. “You downloaded yer ticket, right?”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Hold on.”

The moment you find it, you hold it up to the barrier. The red light that was flashing turns green. “You may now aboard, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Shortly afterwards, Bakugo’s name is followed. The moment Bakugo gets inside, the doors shut. “Please have a seat.”

There's only two seats on the train, and they're both fixed in front of a small table. It's sorted for a date. Looking over at Bakugo, he's taken aback as well. You let out a snort, being the first one to move. "This is going to be fun," you giggle.

Taking a seat, you take in your surroundings. The walls are a dazzling pink with white tiles as accents. On every other tile, there's art on them— some only have names on it, others with cute amateur drawings on them. You can't help but coo in adoration.

"Please have a seat," the robotic voice sounds again, and it's then you realize that Bakugo has yet to sit down. He's fidgeting with his rolled up cuffs, refusing to make eye contact at you as he eyes the vacant chair.

"'Suki," you grow with concern. "Are you okay?"

Returning back to reality, Bakugo gulps and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he finally takes a seat. Clearing his throat, his eyebrows are pushed together as he glances at you.

"Yeah," he stammers. "I'm fine. I just— felt a bit lightheaded out of nowhere."

"Oh my gosh," you gasp. "Are you sure you're fine? The train hasn't moved yet, maybe we can get off somehow—"

The moment you try standing up, the train moves abruptly. Throwing you back in your seat, you knock your elbow on the table and wince. Crying out in pain, Bakugo's quick to reach for you, the concern now being thrown at you.

Growing steady in the train's movements, you rub your elbow to soothe the pain. "I—I'm fine," you fan off Bakugo's hand. "I was just caught by surprise."

"Please remain seated," the intercom speaks, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Could've fucking said something from before," Bakugo loudly says, disgruntled. 

Shaking off the pain, the two of you are finally left in silence. Not sure what to do now, you look over at your hulk of a friend. He dwarfs the seat he's in, his ruby red eyes dodging from place to place— anywhere else to avoid you. You're not a fool, your suspicions rising the more time goes on. 

"Katsuki," you call. "Tell me what's wrong. You've been acting like a weirdo since we got here."

"I, um—" This is his chance. This is his opportunity to just go for it and let you know exactly how he feels about you. If you tell him that you're not into him like that, he'll accept your answer. You two can spend the next four hours in complete silence and he'll deal with the agonizing pain of rejection. However, he's hoping for the best. Hoping that your eyes will light up and that you'll throw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around him and into a hug. Hoping that he'll get a taste of your plump lips and kiss you like he's always wanted to. 

And as he's reciting his fantasies, they fuel his confidence. Shoulders straightening and chest rising. Finally, his crimson eyes meet yours as he's determined. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't—"

His moment is stripped away from him by the intercom speakers and the sliding doors to the train car opening. 

"Activity One is about to start—" Out comes a cart being pushed by a human-sized robot. It stands tall, the pink thing of metal moving stiffly as it pushes the cart slowly. The metal-being is faceless, but its head moves and turns to view both you and Bakugo. Bakugo moves anxiously in his seat, upset for being interrupted. When the cart arrives, the robot comes to a full stop and removes the sheet covering the top contents. "Activity One is called Bracelet Making. During this hour, you will be making bracelets to give to one another. 

"The rules are simple," the voice over the intercom speaks. "You'll make a bracelet with colors of your choice, but the only rule is that you must put your name as a gift to one another at the end of the hour. It's also vital that no one speaks until spoken to. We will be providing questions for the two of you to answer along the way."

All the while the rules were being announced, a giant bowl of beads were securely placed on the table as well as a roll of elastic string provided. When everything’s placed, the robot exits the room, leaving you and Bakugo in solitude once more.

“This is stupid,” Bakugo grumbles. Glaring at him, you kick his feet. “Agh—”

“Sh!” you reprimand him before whispering, “they said you can’t talk.”

“But why not?” he frowns. “What’re they going to do?”

“Failure to adhere to our rules will result in a hefty bill being sent right after the trip,” the intercom announces. “For your own benefit, remain silent.”

You start to giggle, but shooting you a dirty look, Bakugo kicks your leg in retaliation. “Ow!” you burst in agony. “Why’d you do that?”

Bakugo simply lifts up a finger, throwing you a wink before reaching for the pack of elastic string. He reaches for your hand, but you instinctively pull it away. 

Gimme yer hand, he mouths.

For what? You narrow your eyes, forgetting about the task at hand.

Yer bracelet. When you mouth out an ‘oh,’ Bakugo beams in triumph as you finally give him your wrist without protesting. Dumbass, he lastly emits before snipping off the string. He holds out his wrist for you to measure, using his next hand to reach for the bowl of beads and shuffling through the huge pile. He wants to give you something that’ll remind you of him. Despite it having his name on it, every bit of it needs to speak him. 

Letting the beads run through his fingertips, he picks out a bunch of greens and oranges before stringing them on. In deep concentration, he doesn’t feel your eyes on him. You watch as he gnaws on his upper lip, the tip of his tongue poking out a bit. You huff out a bit of laughter before reaching for the bowl yourself and picking out your favorite colors. Just as the two of you get comfortable, stringing on beads and removing them, the intercom goes off once more.

“First question,” it begins. “When did the two of you first meet?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” you smile, looking up at Bakugo. He’s stopped what he’s doing, waiting for you to answer the question. “Our moms have known each other since forever, but my mom had moved away before coming back to Shizuoka, so we met at five years old. 

“My mom was looking for work, so while she did that, Momma Bakugo would watch over me.” All through telling the story, you had a smile on your face. Reminiscing the memory warmed your heart, falling into a comfort as you continued making the bracelet. Looking up at Bakugo, you scrunch your nose. “You didn’t like me that much when we first met.”

“Pfft— what?” Bakugo scoffs at your assumption. “I did not not like ya.”

“What did you first think of Y/N, Bakugo?”

“Um,” Bakugo stammers. What does he think of you? “Uh, I—”

“Why’re you getting so nervous?” you tease Bakugo, nudging his shoulder. “What was your first impression of me? Be honest.”

Getting a bit more relaxed, his shoulders fall. “Well, I never hated ya or anything… Just didn’t know who you were.”

“You refused to hang out with me,” you argued.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know ya!” Bakugo didn’t want to give too much away. Didn’t want to let you know that even at five years old, he felt butterflies in his tummy when he looked at you. That he was nervous to talk to you because he wondered if you’d find his toys lame. He never hated you. He was just… nervous.

“What do you think of her now?”

“What?” The bot repeats their question, making the blond-headed brute speechless. Mouth going dry, he meets your eyes. You’re wiggling your eyebrows teasingly as you wait for his answer. Your playful attitude calms him, reminding him that if he’s spent twenty-plus years hiding his emotions from you, he can do it for a few more hours. “I don’t know. Y/N’s my best friend. I trust her a lot and I’d do anything to protect her. I lo— I really care for her.”

“And what about you, Y/N?” Shifting attention to you, you light up. Your body tenses at the question. “What do you think about Bakugo now? Is he a good friend to you?”

“Bakugo’s a great friend,” you affirm. “He’s my best friend. I know that I can always call him whenever I’m in need. I can confide in him with things I can’t tell my mom. He’s always there for me and I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

The questions after that weren’t as intense as before, though they all seemed to be romantically-inclined. The two of you would always answer as vaguely as possible, trying not to say anything that sounded like more. The hour ran out and the two of you traded bracelets, along with a few more that you made with the extra string, Bakugo loved how his bracelet fit snug on him. Your name was fixed on his wrist, the colors of your choice sparkling in the bright train lights.

The bracelet he made for you fit perfectly as well, the green and orange didn’t go with your current attire, but it didn’t matter. Ogling your wrist, Bakugo felt like the two of you had branded each other in a way and left with a feeling of satisfaction.

The next task assigned was Number Art, where the two of you had to use the majority of the space just for the large sheet of poster paper. You two were given a cup of markers, one of every shade and a list of numbers one to one-hundred fifty. The two of you had decided to split it in half, you taking one to seventy-five and Bakugo with seventy-six to one-hundred fifty. The train operator offered to give the two of you an extra hour, but having to pay for the additional hours, but the two of you opted not to. 

Once again, the two of you were assigned to not talk and it was not a problem for this round. Both in concentration, you only spoke to answer the questions, none of them too thought provoking to take your eyes away from the paper. And within the hour, you both miraculously finished it.

When the time was up and you had five minutes to talk, you gasped as you realized that it was a picture of you two. “Bakugo,” you gasped. “Did you submit a picture of us to them?”

“What?” Bakugo asks. “No.”

Looking at the picture, it was a picture of the two of you at the beach. He remembers you propping up your phone on your water bottle, angled to perfectly to catch the two of you. Later that day, you posted the picture on Instagram. 

“I mean,” Bakugo shrugs. “It makes sense. Robots serve us on trains now.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Makes sense.”

The next activity isn’t much of an activity— Confessions over Dinner. You don’t take the name seriously. After all, the two of you have decided that this was just an opportunity for free food and drinks. Plus, the activities were fun. You were really enjoying your time. The robot server comes back out, pushing a cart with two covered dishes. Placing them in front of you, the server lifts up the covers, revealing your entree for the night. “Bon appetit.”

You have your favorite dish before you, a chicken and broccoli alfredo with a glass of strawberry lemonade. Bakugo has a plate of tteokbokki and a can of beer in front of him. He reaches for the can first, popping it open. He needs something to take him off the edge.

Swirling your fork in your plate, you’re in between chewing when the intercom goes off again. “Y/N, according to our database,” the bot starts. “Your ideal boyfriend is someone that’s big and strong— someone who regularly works out. They must be taller than you, nothing shorter than 6’3”. They must seem like they’re mean, but on the inside, they’re an absolute sweetheart and completely overprotective—”

Completely embarrassed, you can’t meet Bakugo in the eye. Dropping your fork, you look down at your plate as you let the bot keep going with their acclaimed list of boyfriend ideals that you have. And when they finish, they end it with, “Is this correct?”

It is. “Yes, but—”

“Doesn’t this closely resemble Bakugo Katsuki?” You stammer out an answer, momentarily meeting Bakugo’s eyes before darting anywhere else. Reaching for your wrist, you fumble with your bracelets. “Please answer the question.”

“Yes,” you mumble in defeat.

“And Bakugo, according to our database,” the bot then lists off Bakugo’s ideal girlfriend. Apparently, Bakugo wants a goddess— someone’s skin that sparkles, becoming golden in the sunlight. Who finds fun in his interest and even if not, is willing to learn about them. He wants someone that’s got such a warm and bubbly personality, and has such a beautiful smile. On and on the bot goes, where it lasts asks, “Is this correct?”

And unlike you, Bakugo doesn’t hesitate to say ‘yes.’ 

“Bakugo, do you want to take the initiative in confessing to Y/N?” The question finally has you looking up as Bakugo once again answers ‘yes.’ The service bot comes back out to collect your plates, clearing the area as Bakugo looks at you.

“Wh–What?” you ask in shock, lifting your head up to see Bakugo. The corner of your eyes threaten to spill a teardrop or two, but you quickly wipe them away. “What’s the robot talking about?”

“Uh, I don’t really know how to do this,” Bakugo rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve gone through this and tried planning my confession, but— I don’t know how people do this. Dammit! Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were still pissing our pants and I’ve always thought that this feeling in my chest was always just fondness for ya, but it’s not. Not saying that ‘m not fond of ya, but it’s different than that.

“Yer the prettiest thing that I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he admits. “The moment yer mom came to drop you off for the first time, I had felt something for you. Not that bullshit of you spoutin’ that I hate ya, it was just— Fuck, Y/N, I love you. More than fuckin’ friends. ‘Nd I get it if you never wanna talk to me ever again, but I just can’t keep lying to ya—”

“Katsuki,” you coo, more tears pricking the corner of your eyes. Your bottom lip quivers as you listen to his confession. You’ve always tried concealing your emotions for Bakugo, shoving them in the back of your mind in fear of breaking such a strong friendship. You’ve been living in such denial because of it. And now, he’s sitting across from you and confessing.

This entire day you’ve been a fool. Believing his lies and not seeing past his facade and anxious jitters. You should’ve known something was up the moment the two of you stepped on the train. However, because of your own nerves, you let it hinder what was right in front of you. 

“What?” Scratching at his biceps, his breathing starts to grow heavy. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. Just let me off easy. I can handle it.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not that. I like— I love you, too. A lot. And I just— I just never thought that you’d like me back.”

Hearing those words fall from your ears should’ve been easy to handle. It’s what he’s been fantasizing about, but now he’s at a loss for words. Mouth falling open before he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Fuck, yes!”

Standing in his seat, he ignores the automated warning to remain seated. Instead, he reaches for you, practically hawling you out of your seat and pulling you into him. “I’ve been waiting for ya to say that for years.”

“And what if I said no?” You giggle teasingly.

“Well,” he sighs. “We’ll never find out.”

Cheesing widely, you envelope in a hug, but it’s no comparison to his squeezing grip around your waist. Pulling you into his seat, he inhales your scent, his nose in the crook of your neck. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

“Me, too,” you whisper in his embrace. Pulling away, Bakugo’s forehead touches yours. You both can feel each other’s breath, such close proximity making the two of you be filled with a desire for each other. His lips ghost over yours, but before he can claim what’s rightfully his, he asks, “Can I kiss ya?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Bakugo imagined what kissing you would be like. He figured that it would be sweet and tender. You’re a person of passion and it also shows how you fervently kiss him back, both yearning after each other. He pulls your hips closer to him, grounding you there as your nails dig into his shirt. The grip around your waist tightens, Bakugo needing you vehemently closer to him.

From his grasp, you involuntarily buck your hips, your crotch meeting his growing bulge. Your breathing shortens, nearly pulling away from embarrassment. However, it’s as though you’ve triggered something in Bakugo. His kiss deepens, hands starting to roam other realms and parts of your body. And soon, you grow unashamed of the way he pulls out these sounds from your lips, unashamed to grind your pelvis into him.

The palm of his hand reaches for the hem of your dress, fingers dancing around it as he makes it hike up your waist even more. Pulling away from the kiss, his eyes are hooded with lust and staring you down. “Is this fine?” he breathes, voice cracking towards the end. “Tell me to stop if you want me to— at any point of time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “Don’t want you to.”

And he eagerly pounces on you again, teeth tugging on the bottom of your lips as his hands glide against your bare skin. From the crevices of your thighs to your waist, to the supple feels of your breasts— he drags your dress off of you. He lets it fall against the table, ignoring how it slides down to the floor. Nearly bare in front of Bakugo, the artificial lights shining overhead. It makes you self-conscious as you instinctively cover your body with your arms. 

“Don’t hide yer body from me,” Bakugo breathes, slapping them away from your chest. “Yer fuckin’ beautiful, babe.”

“Take your clothes off, Bakugo,” you pout. “Wanna see you, too.”

He doesn’t hesitate to oblige, hoisting you onto the table before unbuttoning his top to only rip it off as the buttons fly as a result of his impatience. His bare chest glimmers in the light, swollen chest and prominent abs to show his dedication to the gym. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but not under this predicament. Your hands run across the chest, feeling the heat of his skin on you. And Bakugo watches you, enjoying your touch. Unbuckling his belt, he pulls his pants down and let it pool at his ankles when he feels your thumb prod at his nipples. He hisses, body jolting from the shock. 

“Shit,” he curses. Retracting your hands, you look at Bakugo with concern. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Bakugo chuckles at your response, pulling you for another kiss. 

“No,” he grins. “Just don’t want to cum when we’ve barely begun.”

 You start to giggle. “Didn’t expect you to be the type to like your titties being touched.”

“Please don’t call them titties,” Bakugo grimaces, before sitting back down and pulling you with him. Bakugo sucks up all of your breath, hand sliding in between your thighs and pressing down on your clit. Your hips buck into him, your sweet mewls egging him on as his lips leave yours and down to your neck. He sucks onto your skin, teeth grazing to give you love bites before sealing them with reassuring kisses. 

“‘Suki,” you moan, eyes shut as he applies more pressure to your nub. Bakugo groans against your skin, adoring the sounds that leave your lips. Your hands wander up his chest, your fingers planting over his nipples once more. Against your thigh, you can feel the twitch of his cock against you. Bakugo curses against your neck. Tugging at the crotch of your underwear, he pulls them to the side.

“Two can play at that game if ya want,” he breathes against your skin. Precum stains his boxer briefs as you keep tantalizing him. Simultaneously, his thumb draws circles to your clit as his index and middle finger dance in between your folds. Not getting what you want, you push further against him, searching for friction. 

Your forehead connects with his, fuelling each other’s desires with the grunts that Bakugo shares with you as your moans are his melody. 

He wasn’t joking when he said he nearly came from the stimulation to his nipples. The more your hands pull and tug at the erect pebbles, the harder it is to keep it in. Not wanting to release prematurely, he abruptly sits you back on the table and brings himself to stand. You gasp in shock, eyes widening as you barely take a moment to process anything. 

Bakugo’s already got his cock out, underwear down to the middle of his thighs. So big and heavy, it falls. Your eyes widen, glossing up at the sight. “Katsuki, you’re so big,” you mewl. He’s circumcised, but has monstrous girth. The pink tip contrasts with his khaki-colored and veiny shaft. Reddened from the neglect, the way Bakugo grips it is mouthwatering. 

“But, you can take it, right?” And you eagerly nod in response, taking not even a second to think about it. “Anything for you.”

“Fuck,” he curses, leaning into you as he aligns his cock with your folds. “I love you so much.”

His cock lubricates itself in your slick, sliding his length in between your folds. You start to whine, wanting more from him. You’re nothing but a greedy fiend, wanting your best friend to fill you up with his cock. “‘Suki,” you pout, eyes glossing with tears threatening to spill. “Want you inside me.”

“Not yet,” he huffs. “Don’t think y’deserve it.”

“What d’y’mean?” you whine, voice turning high-pitched. “Want y’in me so bad.”

“Aw,” Bakugo coos. “Do ya turn into a desperate slut when you don’t have cock in ya? It’s cute.”

Chuckling, Bakugo gives you a peck on your lips. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get what y’want. Just gotta claim this beautiful body of yours first, m’kay?”

“Okay,” you nod, finally obliging. Pumping his cock in between your lips, Bakugo plants his knee against the table for more leverage. Pulling you against his chest, you pant against his chest. Tongue lolling out, you taste the salt of him. It quickly conjures the idea of finding his nipple, lips wrapping around the bud as your next hand grabs his chest. Experiencing how much it affects Bakugo, you hear his breathing stammer as his rhythm falters for a second before gaining back the momentum. 

“Y-ya just want to ruin me,” Bakugo pants before his cock twitches in between your lips, his seed squirting your chest sporadically. Spilling in thick loads, Bakugo pushes your body to lie down on the table and finish on you. The sight he sees is one made from heaven, your brown skin painted in his milky white seed. He reaches to play in his own seed, spreading it across your body to then write his name into you. “Ya look so pretty like this, baby. I’ve officially claimed ya as my own.”

“Were the bracelets not enough?” you jest with heavy breaths. He chuckles, shaking his head. 

“No—” Cock still hard and begging for more, he grabs the base of it, finally aligning it with your entrance. “—think this pussy can handle my cock?”

“If I can handle you for most of my life,” you smirk. “I think I can handle your appendage.”

At that, Bakugo pushes said appendage inside, the tip making space for his intrusion. He swallows your whines and whimpers with a kiss, his chest touching his sticky mess against yours. In a swift movement, his entire length is inside you. Moaning against his lips, you nod to let Bakugo know it’s fine to move. 

“Activity three is now over—” The intercom speaks overhead, startling the two of you as Bakugo sets a steady pace. “ —And in approximately five minutes, we’ll start Activity Four.”

“Fuck,” he pants, looking you in the eye. “Want to stop?”

Immediately shaking your head, you tell him no. “Let’s just keep going.”

“Think I can make ya cum in the next five minutes?” he smirks. 

“I’d like to see you try,” you challenge him. To which he accepts, his pace accelerating and becoming brutal with his thrusts. Back arching in his hold, your head falls back. Hoisting your leg over his shoulder, it opens a deeper cavern inside you as he starts hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as your pussy clenches around his length. “‘Suki—”

“Say it,” a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Say it. Yer gonna cum.”

Grinding against his length, your mouth falls agape. An ‘O’ forming on your lips as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Holding onto Bakugo, your grip is tight as you let out a high-pitched moan. “I’m—” you cry. “‘M gonna cum.”

The clutch of your pussy calls for another orgasm from Bakugo as well, feeling how your pussy hugs around his cock. Your release forms a ring around the base of his cock, any further excess dripping down on the table. He keeps going, chasing his high to quickly release into you. Letting out a guttural moan, his chest falls into you. His cock softens, falling out as he watches the pleasurable sight of his seed dripping and messing the floor. 

Feeling the rise and fall of your chest, Bakugo plants soft kisses as two fingers gather to collect the mixture of both of your orgasms. Fingers plunging into you, you whimper at the overstimulation. “Katsuki—”

“Activity Four is about to start—” Removing his fingers, Bakugo climbs off you as the doors open. Helping you down, he reaches for your discarded clothes. Both of you put back on your clothes as the service bots arrive with a clay tile and some markers. “This is the last activity for the evening. We value the time you both spent with us and want to keep a piece of you. During the rest of the hour, you are free to converse among yourself. Your leftover food will be given to you at the end. Thank you for riding on the Love Train! Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Finishing the tile with a gigantic — and horribly drawn heart on Bakugo’s behalf— with your initials written in the middle, you hand it over to the service bot when the train finally comes to a stop. Grabbing your to-go containers, Bakugo offers his hand when the two of you reach the door. Jokingly, you grin. “What? Do you think you’re my boyfriend or something now?”

“I’d hope so,” he snorts, grabbing your hand as you both exit. “Then I invited the wrong girl onto the Love Train with me.”

Stopping, you take hold of his next hand. Looking him in the eye, you smile from ear-to-ear. “Thank you so much, ‘Suki,” you beam. “I’ve always thought my feelings for you were one sided. Glad to know they’re not.”

“Feels so nice to finally have the girl of my dreams,” he smiles. “I can’t wait to take ya out on a real date.”

Scrunching your nose, you reach up to kiss him. “I know you’ll make me the happiest girl.”

THE END.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ! i haven't written for bakugo in a hot ass minute so please let me know what you think about this in the comments. mwah mwah! i appreciate y'all!

CREDITS ! thank you @todorosie for taking time to beta reading this. love you mucho, baby girl. 🫶🏾

🧸. @acehyacinth, @dgrymn, @kiarathace, @titantears, @shoyosdoll, @reveusecherie, @sanaguru, @prettypink-princesss, @king-dynamight, @manexterr, @venteeni

These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

-----

He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…its was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST additional tws added when the fic is posted !! proceed with caution, DARK CONTENT

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SET 1: 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔

001. IWAIZUMI ♡༘ TROPHY tw lobotomised reader, noncon 002. ATSUMU ♡༘ DECAY

SET 2: 𝐉𝐉𝐊

003. TOJI ♡༘ SPARKSTONE 004. MEGUMI ♡༘ CADAVER

SET 3: 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐕

005. KAKUCHOU ♡༘ DROOLING 006. SANZU ♡༘ EXALT

SET 4: 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

007. NAGI ♡༘ STAR 008. SHIDOU ♡༘ WHITE WHALE

SET 5: 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒

009. NICOLAS GANGSTA ♡༘ SWOLLEN 010. TRIGUN ♡༘ DRAIN

.`♱🪦ѻ 𝖉0𝖑𝖑 ♱’¡!

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𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: THESE FICS ALL CONTAIN TRIGGERING SUBJECTS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION

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kicking off kinktober tomorrow (today? shh) with satoru gojo, breeding and princess diaries !! find it live at 20:45pm gmt <3

you place one foot in front of the other on the curb before you, the toe of one shoe meeting the heel of the next. you move slowly, repeating the motions as you step a little further along the raised edge of concrete.

the air outside is cool, the breeze lifting the gauzy hem of your dress as it brushes past, and you can still hear the music from the party inside--close enough to the building not to feel as though you're entirely apart from it, but distant enough to catch your breath a little bit.

"you're gonna twist your ankle."

you look up and see issei slouched against the brick wall of the building, half-hiding in the night's shadow. his voice is gentle enough not to startle you, but you still pause when you notice him. you watch as he flicks a bit of ash off the end of his mostly-burned cigarette, and then takes another drag with his eyes still on you.

"am not," you counter indignantly, taking another careful step to spite him.

issei pushes himself off the wall, letting his cigarette drop to the ground and be crushed underfoot, and approaches where you're walking along the curb like a balance beam.

in spite of your confidence, when he's within arms reach you find yourself stumbling slightly; you teeter in your heels on the narrow strip of cement, and your hands fly out to balance yourself. mattsukawa catches your hands in his--warmer, larger than your own--and steadies you without missing a beat.

"told you," he says smugly, and your face scrunches up in annoyance.

he doesn't let go of your hands.

issei walks along with you, hands clasped in his, as you continue your tight-rope walk.

"so," he says as you step along, a little more surely now that he's there to guide you. to catch you on the off chance you should fall. "why aren't you inside?"

you hum contemplatively, fingers tightening around his for a moment when your heels wobble over a crack in the curb. "just needed a breather."

issei nods, like he understands. "lotta bodies in there, huh?"

"who would have thought oikawa and iwa even know so many people?" you echo his remark.

"who knew so many people like them enough to come all the way to miyagi just to see them get married," issei counters with a wry smile. you laugh, nodding in agreement.

"well, iwa i can understand, but tooru?"

mattsun chuckles, dipping his head in a affirmative nod.

you finally make it to the end of the curb, no more concrete left stretching ahead for you to travel, and issei stands before you with your hands still held in his own.

you blink up at him.

"i'm kind of annoyed you're still taller than me even in heels and on a curb."

he smirks. "get taller heels."

your lip curls at the corner, though it's in disdain rather than smugness. "shrink."

he laughs again, a real one this time. the kind of laugh that shows all his teeth. the one that makes your tummy pang a little bit.

once his laughter subsides, he fixes you in a look that feels out of place. too intimate for two people who are standing just outside of their best friends' wedding. too intense for people who aren't supposed to look at each other like that anymore.

"you look really pretty tonight," he says softly, as gentle as the evening breeze. it makes goosebumps prickle across your skin in the same way too.

"thanks," you say with a commensurate lightness.

"new dress?" he asks, letting his eyes wander down to trail over the garment you have on. you don't mind the way his gaze feesl as it traces over you.

"no," you say, your voice still barely above a whisper. his eyes flicker back up to yours.

inside the party, you hear the song change. it's an older tune, one that was popular when you were all in high school, high energy and electronic. there's a cheer from the partygoers as you assume they're all flocking to the dance floor. it's nostalgic. makes you think about your life when the song was still on the radio. listening to it through one headphone while issei listened through the other.

"we should get back inside." you pull your hands out of issei's grasp, stepping down from the curb and past him towards the door to the event venue.

issei's hand catches yours again just before you can retreat. you pause with your feet coming together, your arm stretched behind you towards him, your eyes still on the door.

"save a dance for me, okay?"

you force down the little smile that threatens to appear, swallowing back the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"alright," you reply, and then you peek back over your shoulder, "only if you make sure i don't twist my ankle."

he smiles, and lets your hand drop once more.

"yeah, i can do that."

This is so beautiful 😔😔🫠🫶

I. In the early morning, my yearning soul laid bare

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader | Word count: 6.3k

Series masterlist -> xxx | Next chapter -> xxx

Content warnings: reader is very touch starved, katsuki is bad with feelings, eventual smut. reader is feminine, referred to as a woman. sweetheart, baby, bunny used as nicknames. smut warning !! praise, slightly possessive bkg, cunnilingus, squirting, cream pie

“Good morning, Dynamight.”

“Mornin’.”

He moves swiftly through the office, combat boots overpowering the sound of your heels clacking against the tile. You’re speed walking to keep up with him, taking three strides of your own for each of his one. “Your coffee is on your desk, not much office work for today except a meeting with Pro-Hero Hawks. Although I did get an email about a charity dinner that you should probably attend next week. So we’ll need to figure out a time to get you fitted for a suit. Oh! And I think that—

“Ln”

“Yes, Dynamight?”

“Stop talkin’.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“And how many times have I told you to drop that Dynamight shit? Just call me Bakugou,” he says, nearing the entrance of his office. “Oh, right. Sorry about that— uh, Bakugou.” He smirks down at you, crimson eyes taking in your form. “Let me know when bird brain gets here, and just call the usual tailor and have them design something for the dinner. He knows my sizes.” You nod quickly, hands fiddling with the papers in your hands, “Would you like me to email you the design once it’s finished so you can approve it?” He shakes his head, hand opening the door, “Nah, trust your judgment. Just approve it if you think it looks good,” with that he turns into his office, clicking the door shut. 

Anything would look good on you, you think, which is definitely not something you should say to your boss or think about. How annoying too, the way he could make even the scrappiest of clothes look good. Stupid Pro-Hero body and chiseled jawline and— Whatever.  You valued your job far too much to let your school girl crush on the explosive Pro-Hero ruin what you had. You’d been working at the Dynamight-Red Riot Agency for nearly two years now. So you should be immune to the number two hero by now. 

“Hi, pretty bird, somethin’ on your mind?”

Your train of thought is interrupted by the teasing drawl of the number three hero, smirk upon his face as he leans against your desk. “Hawks! No! Just thinking about everything I need to get done today,” you say, moving to set your paperwork down. Your hand reaches for the phone to alert Dynamight— Bakugou— of his presence. “You’re here early,” you say, “you’re usually at the least twenty minutes late. Are you–

You’re cut off by his hand resting atop yours, hand clenching the receiver of the phone tighter. “Wanted to see you, pretty bird. Have to say hello to my favorite assistant,” he says with a grin. You brush his hand off, opting to press the call button on the receiver instead to alert your boss. “Well, hello,” you say, shrinking in on yourself behind your desk. He skirts around the edge, bending towards you. “What’s wrong, dove? Nervous?” he asks with a smirk. Your hands wring together nervously as you stand between the wall and the taller man. “No! I’m just, erm. You’re awfully close,” you say, eyes darting about the room. 

“Oi, leave my assistant alone unless you want me to turn you into fried chicken.” Bakugou says, stepping out of his office. “Ahh, Dynamight!” Hawks says, turning to the hero, “I see you haven’t changed a bit.” Bakugou stares at him with a straight face, nodding his head towards his office. Hawks grumbles, leaving you with a wink. “You good?” Bakugou grunts, eyeing you. “Y-yeah. Yeah, yes,” you say, tension easing from you in his presence, “thank you, Bakugou.” His mouth turns up slightly at that, giving a nod of his head before turning into his office, the door closing with a click. 

—

“Good morning, Bakugou.”

“Good mornin’”

The office is quiet this morning, only the two of you along with a few unlucky interns who got roped into finishing off the overflowing paperwork. “Did you sleep well?” you ask, handing him his coffee. “Wasn’t bad till I woke up,” he grumbles, sighing as he takes the first sip of the warm drink, “You?” You’re quick to cover your surprise, he wasn’t usually one to initiate conversation besides your exchange of ‘good morning’ and the list of things he needed to do. “I slept very well, thank you for asking. Are you going out with us tonight?” 

You already knew the answer, but you also weren’t quite sure if he was ever actually invited. “Don’t mention it,” he says, leaning against your desk as you enter your office space, “goin’ out where?” Just as you suspected. He always worked so hard for his place in the charts. You wondered if he ever did anything fun. “Just some of us from the office. We’re going out for drinks,” you say, booting up your computer, “you should come.” He frowns, eyebrows drawn right, “I’ll think about it,” he says, before turning to his office and shutting the door. Well, you think, that’s a start. 

By the time your work is completed, there’s an ache in your back. Eyes strained from staring into your computer screen all day. You roll your neck, easing the tension from your shoulders. “Oi,” a voice snaps, “we goin’ or what?” You look at the man standing in front of you, now changed out of his hero uniform and into casual clothing. You smile up at him, “Going where?” you ask, saving your files before shutting the computer system down. “Thought you said you and those damn extras were goin’ out after work,”  he says, crossing his arms. You pretend not to notice the faint blush creeping upon his cheeks. His voice echoes in your mind, ‘you and those damn extras’.  You roll your eyes at yourself for looking too deep into the sentiment. “Yes! I don’t know about you but I am so ready to have a drink.” you say with a groan. 

“So,” he asks, slowing his strides to walk alongside you, “who’s all gonna be there?” You hum as you walk along, pressing the button to the elevator. “Ah, just the usual I’m sure,” you say, stepping in once the lift arrives. “The usual? You guys do this a lot?” he asks, feigning disinterest. “Yeah! Like every other week, sometimes every week depending. You didn’t know?” A part of your heart aches at this, but you’re pulled from your thoughts at the scoff he lets out. “Nah, had no idea.” You leave it at that, frown on your face. 

After Bakugou offered (read: forced) you to get a ride from him instead of using the train to get to the hole in the wall bar you and your coworkers meet, he’d been oddly quiet. His car was nice, a sleek SUV with red interior that you were sure cost more than your yearly salary– stupid rich people. “Quit that shit,” Bakugou finally says, both hands gripping the wheel as he drives down the road, “you’re thinkin’ too loud. Somethin’ wrong?” You’re quick to deny, hands flailing in front of you, “Oh no! Of course not, just thinking about everything I have to do when I get home.” He hums, hands relaxing as he turns to look at you at the next light. “Your car is nice,” you say, fingers twitching, “I like the red.” He smirks at that, proud grin on his face, “Thanks, put a lot of work into her,” he says. “And money,” you mumble to yourself. He barks out a laugh and you pray to whatever lies above to smite you now as you look at him. It’s then that you realized he’s pulled into the parking lot, hand resting on your headrest as he leans back to reverse the car into the stall. And— holy shit. Had his arms always been that big? His jawline so sharp? And when he bites his lip in concentration you can’t help but wonder if that’s the face he would make when putting his–

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You’re snapped from your bubble of admittedly filthy thoughts, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He laughs at your obvious inner turmoil, moving to shift the car into park. “Sorry! So sorry about that. Uh– I was just. Well I was just lost in thought, erm. I guess.” Real smooth Yn, real smooth. He rolls his eyes, opening his door. “You gettin’ out? Or are you plannin’ on sittin’ in here all night?” You shake your head to dismiss the thoughts, facing him with a smile. “Ready when you are!”

Your name is called from the corner booth where your friends cooped up, hands raised in the air. Sero, Denki, and Mina, sit pressed into one side of the booth, the other occupied by a few friends from the IT department in the building. “Hey guys!” you say, leading Bakugou over. “Bakubro!” Denki cries, “What are you doing here?” Bakugou mumbles to himself sliding next to you into the booth. A glass slides your way, your usual drink of choice presented to you. You look up at Sero who gives you a wink, rolling your eyes at the man. “Thank you so much. I needed this after this week,” you say with a sigh. “Sorry Bakugou, I didn’t get you anything,” Sero says with a chuckle, “didn’t know you were coming, otherwise I would’ve ordered for you too, man!” Bakugou gives a dismissive grunt, picking at the table. “Would you like something, Bakugou. I can go with you! Does anyone else need anything?” 

“I can get it,” Bakugou replies, ignoring Mina’s calls for another drink for herself. “Uhh,” Mina starts, hands slapping the table as she turns to you, “so what the fuck was that?” You laugh, stirring your drink with your straw, “What was what?” Gasps escape the three members say across from you, mouths agape. “What was what? How did you convince Bakubro to come?” Denki says, “I thought I was dreaming when I first saw him. Did you bribe him? OH MY GOD!” He drops his voice to a whisper, leaning closer to you, “Are you fucking him?” You choke on your drink at his words, hand moving to cover your mouth as you shake your head violently. “What?! No. I just asked if he wanted to come,” you say with a shrug, “that’s all.” Bakugou returns with the drinks, sliding Mina’s drink to her. “Yes! Thank you Bakugou. Knew that black card of yours would come in handy someday.”

He snorts at this, taking a sip of his own drink, “You act like you don’t have one of your own.” Mina starts vehemently denying this, hands flailing. Amongst the chatter and raised voices you can’t help but stare at the man next to you and the wide smile spread across his face.

-

“You really didn’t have to walk me all the way to my door,” you say, hands clasped in front of you. “Had to make sure your dumbass didn’t get abducted by a villain. ‘sides, don't wanna end up having to do all that paperwork by myself.” You laugh at his words, a bright grin on your face. “Well, I appreciate the concern,” you say, unlocking your door, “have a goodnight Bakugou. Get home safe.” He grunts in acknowledgment, feet shuffling on the ground. “Y’can call me Katsuki,” he mumbles. Your smile brightens, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Goodnight, Katsuki.”

—

“Good morning, Katsuki-kun.”

“Good morning, Yn.”

“So, what bullshit do I have to put up with today?” He asks, arms crossed over his chest. You turn to the computer, pulling up his schedule for today. “Doesn’t look like a lot of office work, although I did get a call earlier saying that Pro-Hero Deku will be making a stop by today to discuss something with you.” He groans at your words, “Fuckin’ Deku,” he mumbles. You laugh at his words, spinning your desk chair back and forth. “Just let me know when the shitty nerd gets here.” 

The morning drags after that, hands and back aching from the constant sitting and typing away at your computer. Deciding to stretch your legs and take a break, you decide to check in with Bakugou. 

A knock on his door pulls him from his thoughts, setting down the report he was reading, “Come in,” he shouts, tossing the paper to his desk. When you enter you nearly pass out at this sight in front of you. Bakugou sat behind his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up with a pair of glasses perched on his nose. “Did you need something?” he finally asks, taking the glasses off and tossing them next to the paper. “No! Sorry, I was feeling restless and needed a break.” He squints his eyes in thought, pursing his lips at you, “So you decided to come bother me about it?” 

“Well actually, I was going to ask if–

“Kacchan!” A voice calls behind you. Bakugou groans, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Kacchan?” you ask with a grin. He glares at you, finger pointed in your direction, “Don’t even start.” You laugh at this, straightening your back as Deku finally enters the room. “Dynamight, Pro-Hero Deku is here to see you,” you say with a smirk. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, brat,” he says with a scowl. “Whatever you say, Kacchan,” you say teasingly, before making your way out of the office, bowing to the two heroes before closing the door.

Your eyes snap to the door as it opens again, Deku walking out mumbling. You giggle as Bakugou makes his way out behind him, exasperated look across. “Isn’t it so cool, Kacchan? I hope we get it, I think I could keep it on my office on the self that’s—

“Deku. Stop fuckin’ talking.”

“R-right! Right, see you later, Kacchan!”

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, arms over his chest as the hero leaves. “Oh!” Deku says, stopping at your desk, “I’m so sorry! Where are my manners? Have a good night, Yn!” You smile wide, waving goodbye to the green haired man. 

You turn slowly in your chair to the ash blond, “Sooo,” you drag out, “how was your meeting, Kacchan?” If looks could kill, you’re sure you would be a splat on the wall right now. “Shut it,” he says with a huff. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed! I think it’s cute,” you say with a smile. “I’m not embarrassed,” he exclaims, “and it’s not fuckin’ cute.” You laugh loudly at his obvious disdain, ears turning red, arms crossed. “Y-yeah. Well what about you?” He says, nose up in the air. “What about me?” you ask. “Always so jumpy around new people. Actin’ like a frightened rabbit. Like a little bunny,” he says with a smirk. You laugh harder at this, clutching your stomach when his smile falls. “Bunny is almost cuter than Kacchan.” You nearly fall out of your chair in laughter as the man starts defending himself.

—

“Good morning, Kacchan.”

“Good morning, bunny.” 

You both stand in front of his office, arms crossed as you glare at each other. “Yn! Hey do you— am I interrupting something?” You turn your head towards the voice, “Oh! No of course not, Akio. What’s up?” Akio was one of your coworkers from IT who was a regular to your meetups for drinks, he stood before the two of you red faced, fiddling with his hands nervously. “I was wondering if you were going out with us tonight, we were talking about all riding together and going bar hopping.” You shake your head at him, “No, I can’t tonight,” you say with a frown, “I have a date tonight, I’m sorry I’ll miss it!” He gives you a thumbs up, shaking his head, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll catch you next time. Have fun tonight!” You laugh looking at him with a wide grin and offering your thanks before turning back to Bakugou. 

He stands there with a scowl on his face, “What’s wrong?” you ask, brows furrowed. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he says. You laugh, shaking your head, “I don’t! It’s actually our first date. Mina set me up with him, actually.” His frown deepens, a heat simmering in his chest at this. Jealousy? No, Bakugou Katsuki does not get jealous. A heat creeps up his stomach, heart beating furiously in his chest. “Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Some ramen place he wanted to show me, I’m excited! And I need to get rid of these feelings I have for this one guy and I’m hoping this helps,” you say sheepishly. “Why’s that? Anyone would be stupid to not want you. What’s his problem?” You fight the flurry of butterflies in your tummy at his words, “Ah, I don’t think I’m his type. Besides he’s… unattainable, you could say.” He grunts in response, entering his office. 

Weird, you think, even for Bakugou. You shrug, turning to sit at your desk to begin your work. Maybe he’s jealous, a voice taunts in your ear. You shake it away, allowing the words on the screen to suck you in and take over your running thoughts. 

-

He’s late. You frown, looking down at your phone once more. It’s only by ten minutes, maybe he got stuck in traffic, you think. But as the minutes pass your hope festers, picking idly at the word edge of the menu you’d already memorized front to back in your spare time. A thump pulls you out of your thoughts, the view of a body in your peripheral making you scowl. No way you were going to go through with the date now, looking up to tear the man in front of you apart, you pause, mouth agape. “Bakugou?” you say in shock. His eyes dart about nervously before he clears his throat, “Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey? What are you doing here? Were you following me?” He frowns at this, brows furrowed in annoyance. “Was passin’ by and saw you in here sittin’ by yourself lookin’ all sad. My dry cleaners’ down the road, passed by again on my way back and you were still here. Where’s your date?” 

Embarrassment burns through you, willing the tears down as you look at the man. “Your guess is as good as mine,” you say with a forced laugh. “Asshole,” he murmurs, smiling slightly when he gets a giggle from you, “c’mon, let’s go.” You look up at him in confusion, “Go where?” He stands, holding his hand out to you. “My place, I’m cookin’,” he says, looking at you expectantly, “Well? You comin’ or what?” Your heart leaps, placing your hand in his impressively larger one. “Okay, I’m coming.” 

The ride to his house is silent except for the music flowing quietly through the speakers. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” you finally whisper. “Shaddap, shitty woman. Let me show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.” You bite your lip, contemplating punching yourself in the gut to get the butterflies to calm the fuck down. “Is this a date?” you ask, eyes avoiding him as you stare out the window. “Obviously,” he says, pulling into his drive. Now, you knew Bakugou was rich, but this. This was ridiculous. “You live here?!” you say in shock, “You could fit a small village into this house, Bakugou. It’s huge.” He smiles cockily at you, “Perks of being a Pro,” he says, “and call me Katsuki.” You smile wider at him, soft look upon your features, “Okay, Katsuki.” His cheeks redden at your words, scoffing at you, “And don’t you dare open that fuckin’ door yourself.” 

The inside of Bakugou– Katsuki’s home, is even more impressive than the outside. Sleek walls and abstract decor. Rich people, you think to yourself. Though you can’t help but sadden at the lack of warmth in the house. No touch of the explosive hero’s personality strewn throughout. He pulls out a pair of slippers for you, sliding the heels off your feet. “Your house is beautiful, Katsuki.” He shrugs noncommittally, “Thanks, let my old hag design it. Only really use it to eat and sleep.” You frown, follow him into his kitchen. “What are you making?” you ask, placing yourself on the island resting in the center of his kitchen. You gasp when he grabs your hips, pulling you off and depositing you into a chair at the bar standing just on the outside of the kitchen. “Scared, bunny?” he asks with a toothy grin, hands still resting on your hips. “N-no,” you clear your throat, “No, of course not.” He laughs, rolling his eyes before grabbing an apron to place onto his form. “Makin’ ramen. It’ll be better than whatever was at that shitty restaurant.”

You can’t help but be captivated by the sight in front of you, watching how effortlessly Katsuki moves around the kitchen. “I didn’t know you could cook,” you speak out. He grunts, slicing vegetables to add into the broth he’s started, “You can’t?” You laugh, “No, I can. But with a house like this, I’m just surprised you don’t have your own personal chef or something.” He rolls his eyes, smirk on his face, “Nah, no one can make it like me. I’m the best there is.” You smile at the challenge, “I’ll hold you to that, Katsuki.” 

-

“Oh my god,” you say with a groan, “Katsuki, this is amazing!” He smirks, “Told ya I was the best.” You glare at him, “Just take the compliment, Katsuki. Don’t need your head getting any bigger than it already is.” He chokes on a noodle at your words, red eyes glaring at you. You laugh loudly, head thrown back as he looks at you. It’s hard to take him seriously like this, cheeks round with noodles, a stray one resting on his chin. Conversation flows easy, easier than you could have imagined. At the end of it all, it’s hard to tell if the warmth flowing through you is from the meal or if it’s simply Katsuki. It’s strange to see him so relaxed, smile easy on his face, eyes bright with mischief. “The meal was wonderful, Katsuki. Thank you.” He lets out a tch, in response. “Would you like me to help clean? Since you cooked.” He shakes his head, gathering his and your bowl in his hands. “You’re too pretty to be doin’ all that work. Wanna go pick out a movie or somethin’?” he asks with flushed cheeks. Your smile brightens, happy to continue the night with him. “I would love to,” you say.

“Stop squirmin’,” he whispers to you. There’s about a two foot distance between the two of you on his large couch, movie playing in the background causing shadows to spread across his face. “Sorry,” you whisper back, “this dress isn’t the most comfortable to lounge in.” He looks at you with a frown, vermillion eyes taking in your form. “Why didn’t you just say so, dumbass.” He stands up, offering you his hand, “C’mon, I’ll give ya somethin’ to wear.” You follow him to his room, hand squeezing his own absentmindedly as you stroll through his house. The smell of burnt caramel and a scent that’s all man, enters you as you follow him into his room.  He guides you to the bed, moving to his closet to grab clothes for you.

You take in your surroundings and can’t help yourself from wandering about the room. This, you think, this is Katsuki. All Might memorabilia strewn throughout the room, snippets from newspapers of his achievements. You pick up a picture frame, smiling softly down at it. High school aged Katsuki stares back at you, usual scowl, but with his undeniable warmth resting in his eyes. Also in the picture is his group of friends. Kirishima stood beside him with an arm thrown over his shoulder with Sero next to him, signature wide grin on his face. Beside Sero is Kaminari, obviously in a bout of laughter. It’s clear that Mina is the one taking the photo, arm stretched out with the other offers a simple peace sign.

“You tell them I have that in here, and I’ll kill you,” Katsuki mumbles behind you. You nearly drop the picture in fright, scrambling to catch it before the frame shatters. “Katsuki!” you cry, “Give a girl a warning next time, nearly gave me a heart attack.” He laughs at this, offering you a set of clothes. “It’s your fault for snoopin’, bunny.” You roll your eyes, “Where’s the bathroom?” you ask. He points to the door opposite you, taking the frame gently from your hands. You’re nearly chest to chest, heart beating erratically at how close he is. Don’t look up, Don’t look up, you chant to yourself. You look up. He’s even closer like this, soft eyes peering down at you. His eyes flicker to your lips, mouth opening to speak. “Bathroom!” you shout suddenly, “Uhh, bathroom. Change. I’m going to the bathroom to change.” 

Wow, Yn, subtle. His brow quirks up in amusement, stepping away from you to allow you to step past. You change quickly, splashing water from your face to soothe your panic. You look at yourself in the mirror rolling your eyes at your awkwardness. The clothes are ridiculously large on you, shirt ending near your knees. You had to roll the sweats up several times to even attempt to walk. His room is empty when you exit the bathroom, so with your hands clasped tightly around your clothes, you leave the room to find him. He’s sitting on the couch, phone in hand as he waits. His eyes widen when you enter the room, darting over your form. “Pretty,” he mumbles to himself. “What?” you ask tilting your head to the side. “Said you’re pretty,” he says, a soft grin on his face. 

Your stomach flutters, placing yourself next to him on the couch once you’ve set your clothes to the side. “Thank you, Katsuki. You’re pretty as well.” The tension is palpable, heat rising to your body as he leans closer. A frown falls upon your face when he turns from you, wringing his hands together as his eyes dart about the room. “Katsuki?” you query, hand resting on his shoulder. “Sorry,” he murmurs, leg bouncing nervously. You brush your hand over his leg, pushing lightly to ease the movements. “Katsuki,” you whisper, free hand moving to gently grasp his face. His lip trembles when your thumb brushes over it, tongue darting out to chase your intoxicating taste. He nudges his face deeper into your hand, lips ghosting over your pulse point, vermillion eyes boring into you. “You scare me,” you whisper to him, grasping his face when he goes to pull away. “Not like that! It’s just— You’re just, so—

“Aggressive?” he offers, eyes refusing to meet your own. You shake your head, thumbs running soothing circles over his cheeks. “No,” you whisper to him, “you’re so kind. I think I might— no. I know I do. I love you, Katsuki.” A stray tear makes itself down his face, you brush it away quickly, forehead pressed against his. You wonder then, if anyone has truly ever made an effort to understand the true Katsuki. His love was so unlike his brash outer personality. It was so quiet. Hands that cover corners as you walk behind his desk to assure you don’t run into it. Keen eyes, ever observant, assuring your comfortability. The way he smiles when he looks at his friends. How he allows them to poke and prod at them though if it were anyone else he would obliterate them in a second. Dynamight was loud, and rude, and explosive. Katsuki was kind, and loving— all consuming. His lips ghost over yours, breaths intermingling. His eyes darken when your tongue wets your lip, the warmth over it spreading through his chest. “I love you,” he says. “I know,” you whisper, hands moving to fist his shirt. 

“Can I–

“Please.”

Katsuki groans once his mouth is placed on yours, hand moving to your face as you deepen the kiss. His thumb brushes gently over your face before resting firmly on your neck to squeeze lightly. A whimper from you, followed by a growl from him, and you’re left straddling him. Hands grasping the strands of hair that rest at the nape of his neck. Your hips roll into him when he groans at your actions, tongue darting across your lips to ask for entrance. You oblige willingly, tongues dancing with each other. His hands pause their exploration of your body and move up to cradle your face. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he gazes into your eyes, his own filled with desire and a touch of vulnerability.

"I've never felt this way before," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Being with you feels different, like I'm falling into something I can't fully comprehend."

You smile warmly, running your fingers through his hair. "I feel the same way," you reply, sincerity lacing your words. “I want this, Katsuki. I want you.” His mouth presses firmly back onto yours, his hands resume their journey, tracing the curve of your back and finding their way beneath his shirt clad on you. His touch ignites a fire within you, causing your breath to hitch and your heart to race.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, “Please.” Sensing his hesitation you guide his hands to your waist, silently encouraging him to remove your shirt. As the fabric slips off your body, his eyes widen at the sight before him. He leans in, tracing kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, placing sloppy kisses and heated marks into the exposed skin. You let out a moan, hands fisting his hair as you grind yourself harder against him. You whimper when his mouth latches around your pert nipple, pulling him closer to your chest. He growls at this, flipping you to lay underneath him. 

Your hands explore his body, pushing up on his shirt. He allows you to glide your hands up his abdomen, a moan falling from his lips when you flick your fingers over his chest. “Fuck,” he whines, hips bucking into yours. 

He pulls away, hand grabbing at the back of his shirt to toss it next to yours, hands moving to the waistband of your sweats. “Is this okay?” he asks gently, fingers caressing your sides. You nod, whining when he pinches your side. “Words, sweetheart.” You whimper, hands clasping his wrists. “Please, Katsu.” Your pants and his own soon join the rest, hearts racing erratically. His lips move to your stomach, leaving heated kisses in his wake. Katsuki groans when he reaches your core, throwing your legs over his shoulder before biting into the plush skin of your thighs. You keen at his movements, hips bucking up as he soothes over the mark with his tongue. “Beg for it,” he whispers, fingers ghosting over your dripping heat. “Please, Katsuki. Need your mouth. Need it so bad. Need you.” 

He’s quick to follow orders, tongue swiping through your heat before wrapping around your clit and giving it a harsh suck. He moans into your heat, sending vibrations shooting up your spine. Your back arches at this, hands grasping his ash blond strands as you grind into him. “Fuck baby,” he moans, “just like that. Gonna use my tongue to get off? Gonna cream all over my face?” You cry out hips bucking into him as he flattens his tongue to allow you to grind into him. “Yes! Yesyesyes, Katsuki!” you moan, “Gonna make me cum.” His fingers dig into your sides, tongue moving to thrust into your aching core. “C’mon, sweetheart. Cum for Katsuki,” he snarls. 

Heat rushes over you, hips bucking greedily in his face as he drinks your release from your sloppy heat. 

He detaches from you after you push him away, the overstimulation causing your thighs to clamp around his head. His mouth moves back to yours, and you whine at the taste of you on his tongue. “Need to be in you,” he says, “please.” If someone had told you this morning that you’d have Dynamight begging to be in you, you’d laugh in their face. But this wasn’t Dynamight, this was Katsuki. Katsuki with his rough exterior, guarded heart, and warm eyes. Katsuki who made sure you always felt safe, who came to your rescue. Katsuki who had captured your bleeding heart, cradling it gently in his hands. “Want it all, Katsuki,” you whisper against his lips, “want all of you.” 

He shuffles to pull his boxers down, cock slapping against his stomach as he fumbles about. He glares when you laugh at his struggle, but you see the warmth resting behind his eyes. He pinches your side, gliding himself back over you. “Who is it?” he asks quietly. You look at him in confusion, hands gently cupping his face. “The guy who you need to get over, the one who’s unattainable.” You laugh softly, pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips. “You, Katsuki,” you whisper, “it’s always been you.” His lips crash onto yours, arms moving to wrap your legs over his waist. Katsuki runs his cock through your folds, tapping his cock onto your clit before pressing in slowly. Whimpers and swears fall from both your lips as he enters you, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders when you become one. “Katsuki,” you whine, “move.”

He pulls his hips back only to push forward with a snap, groans falling from his lips as he picks up his pace. “Fuck,” he murmurs, “feel even better than I imagined.” The heat of his words travels straight to your core, cunt clenching on his cock as you cry out. “So good,” you whine, “so big. Feel so good inside me.” He growls at your words, throwing your legs over his shoulders to push in deeper. “Yeah,” he says, voice raspy, “gonna carve this pussy into the shape of my cock. Make it mine.” Your eyes roll back, high pitched moans falling from your lips, “Course you like that,” he says, “want me to cum in this pussy too? Fill her up with my cum?” Incoherent whines fall from your lips, begging him to fill you up. 

“Say it,” he moans, “say you’re mine.” His hand moves to your clit, fingers rubbing harsh circles, hips snapping harder into you. “Yours!” you cry out, “All yours, Katsuki. Only you.” Curses fall from his lips, head falling to the crook of your neck. “Cum for me,” he begs, “cum on my cock and I’ll fill you up just like you want.” As if you’re under his spell, you cunt clenches at his words, head falling back as you gush all over his cock, hips bucking into him as your high washes over you. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that,” he says, “cream my fuckin’ cock.” His hips snap harshly into yours, hips pushing as deep as they can go when he releases into you. 

The heat of him filling you up nearly has you finishing again, eyes rolling back as he eases you both down from your highs. 

He pulls out of you with a hiss before collapsing on top of you, large frame dwarfing your own. You run your hands through his hair, pressing soft kisses to his scalp, humming all the while. As you lay there catching your breaths, you can’t help the broad smile that makes its way across your face. Your hands halt their movements as he pulls back, tired eyes looking back at you. “You okay?” you whisper to him. He shushes you with a kiss, followed by numerous pecks along your face before he stands. Your hips ache, and your head swims, but you don’t think you’ve ever been more content than this moment. 

A damp cloth causes you to flinch from your headspace, a mop of hair between your legs as he cleans you gently. “Stay the night?” he asks bashfully, thanking the gods above for the dim lighting in the room that hides his reddened cheeks. 

“Of course, Katsuki. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“How about forever?” he says with a grin.

He teases you as you bathe together, his chest pressed firmly to your back as he eases the ache from your hips. “Been wanting this for a while,” he says, pressing a kiss to your neck, “can’t believe you’re here.” You turn to face him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “What about work? Could we get into trouble?” He laughs at you, easing your worries. “I’m Dynamight, baby. I make my own rules.” And you can’t help but join in his laughter, hazy atmosphere drifting over the both of you. 

– 

The light streaming from the window pulls Bakugou from his slumber, groaning in irritation as he pulls your warm body closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. You shuffle against him, body turning to face him. He smiles brightly at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You lay like that for a while, faces pressed against each other as you breathe in the warmth of the morning. He pulls away, finger tracing your features gently, flicking your nose when you bite his teasingly as he passes over your kiss bruised lips. You yelp as he does it, and he can’t help but soothe the ache with a kiss to your nose, then your cheeks, and your lips. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki could be such a sap in the morning? You nuzzle deeper into him, soft kisses pressed to the side of his neck. His legs move to entwine with your own fingers tracing shapes down your spine. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before standing up to head to his restroom, leaving you to your thoughts. When he enters the room again, in all his naked glory, you smile softly at him.

“Good morning, Katsuki.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” 

˖⁺ ⊹୨ Y2KISSME ! ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ kinktober 2023 !

let’s kick it back to the year two thousand, but this time it’s wetter, wilder and raunchier aka the sexier versions of your fav y2k films.

୨୧ — NOTES. here it is my loves!! kinktober 2023. i hope you guys like it i’m super excited. some things might be scrapped but idk !! we’ll see. click here ! to join the taglist. rbs are totally fetch ! ♡ ⋆｡˚

୨୧ — RATED R: the following films contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. ugh, as if ! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.

╰₊✧ OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES - starring; satoru gojo ! ྀི

movie contents: thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown…

KINK: breeding ft. spit, infidelity, agoraphilia, daddy kink, baby trapping, breast play, royalty!au.

╰₊✧ OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS - starring; katsuki bakugou ! ྀི

movie contents: in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore!

KINK: free use ft. dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia.

╰₊✧ OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS - starring; yoichi isagi ! ྀི

movie contents: if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way!

KINK: overstimulation ft. scratching, car sex, public sex, food play, sweat kink, dry humping.

╰₊✧ OCT 16TH CLUELESS - starring; megumi fushiguro ! ྀི

movie contents: are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you?

KINK: step cest ft. photos, videos, soft sex, praise kink, body worship, panty sniffing, stuffed animals.

╰₊✧ OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY - starring; eijirou kirishima ! ྀི

movie contents: there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot.

KINK: monsterfucking ft. gags, claiming, choking, branding, blood kink, cock warming.

╰₊✧ OCT 29TH LEGALLY BLONDE - starring; seishiro nagi ! ྀི

movie contents: there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…

KINK: coercion ft. dumbification, overstimulation, mind break, oral fixation, cherry chasing, power imbalance.

╰₊✧ OCT 31ST CHARLIE'S ANGELS - starring; bakugou, kirishima ‘n midoriya ! ྀི

movie contents: your three precious angels deserve a little reward for all the hard work that they do, don’t you think, charlie?

KINK: gangbang ft. dvp, frottage, blowjobs, voice kink, running a train.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ Y2KISSME ! ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ kinktober 2023 !

let’s kick it back to the year two thousand, but this time it’s wetter, wilder and raunchier aka the sexier versions of your fav y2k films.

୨୧ — NOTES. here it is my loves!! kinktober 2023. i hope you guys like it i’m super excited. some things might be scrapped but idk !! we’ll see. click here ! to join the taglist. rbs are totally fetch ! ♡ ⋆｡˚

୨୧ — RATED R: the following films contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. ugh, as if ! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.

╰₊✧ OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES - starring; satoru gojo ! ྀི

movie contents: thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown…

KINK: breeding ft. spit, infidelity, agoraphilia, daddy kink, baby trapping, breast play, royalty!au.

╰₊✧ OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS - starring; katsuki bakugou ! ྀི

movie contents: in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore!

KINK: free use ft. dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia.

╰₊✧ OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS - starring; yoichi isagi ! ྀི

movie contents: if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way!

KINK: overstimulation ft. scratching, car sex, public sex, food play, sweat kink, dry humping.

╰₊✧ OCT 16TH CLUELESS - starring; megumi fushiguro ! ྀི

movie contents: are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you?

KINK: step cest ft. photos, videos, soft sex, praise kink, body worship, panty sniffing, stuffed animals.

╰₊✧ OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY - starring; eijirou kirishima ! ྀི

movie contents: there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot.

KINK: monsterfucking ft. gags, claiming, choking, branding, blood kink, cock warming.

╰₊✧ OCT 29TH LEGALLY BLONDE - starring; seishiro nagi ! ྀི

movie contents: there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…

KINK: coercion ft. dumbification, overstimulation, mind break, oral fixation, cherry chasing, power imbalance.

╰₊✧ OCT 31ST CHARLIE'S ANGELS - starring; bakugou, kirishima ‘n midoriya ! ྀི

movie contents: your three precious angels deserve a little reward for all the hard work that they do, don’t you think, charlie?

KINK: gangbang ft. dvp, frottage, blowjobs, voice kink, running a train.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat

itoshi rin x reader smau

chapter XX: godfather

cw: cursing, silliness

a/n: there will be a bonus chapter (that i haven't written yet so it might not be up by sunday whoops) but otherwise this is the last chapter !!!, thank you all for sticking w me through my first smau<3 i treasure you all

chapter XIX > series masterlist > bonus chapter

** 9th slide is supposed to say to* instead of so but once again i am too lazy to fix it so sorry

chapter XIX > series masterlist > bonus chapter

THE END AHHHHHH i'm not crying u are

also i'm writing a nagi smau & also planning one for sae & oliver & also gojo satoru & eren jaeger if any of you wanna be added to a potential future taglist for these potential future smaus,,

anyway thanks again to you all i love you endlessly & i will see you once more in the bonus chapter🫡

taglist: @punkhazardlaw @sarah-saystuff @ashnootnoot @xiriela @froggie-zusya23 @vanitasbrainrot @lesliesleisure @shironagi @1isabelfox @celestair @rin1802 @rroxii @reiners-milkbiddies @arxliana @kiopanxp @kawaii-angelanne @sleepygraves @dei-lilxc @y-sabell-a @k0z3me @lilactaro @mellozhi @matchablossomsss @rainb3rrie @vernorexiaaa @httpsanon @bloombb @izumi-astra-123 @karmatiz @msameikanevaeh @ascybous @niko-ash @celioderso @91ed0

Scoring, In More Ways Than One | Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x Reader

When you ask your non-writer friends to help you name your fic and you end up with football puns, but I’m not even mad about it.

This is a disgustingly late submission to @prettyboykatsuki​‘s Corruption collab. I’m so sorry that I’m now so late you probably forgot all about the collab entirely, but thank you so much for letting me join! This has been dying in my docs for months so it feels amazing to actually finish it and I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You knew when you first started dating Kunigami that he took football extremely seriously, and it was something that you accepted about him.  He’s waiting until he makes it into the Pro-leagues to have sex with you, because he can’t have any vices or distractions from his childhood dream, but Raichi thinks you’re the biggest distraction there is.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, no beta, virgin!reader, implied/hinted virgin!Kunigami, threesomes, degradation from Raichi, praise, blowjobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, sweat, cumplay, creampies, no protection, voyeurism.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x f!reader.

Word Count: 8.6k.

Qualifying matches were often a hostile environment for your boyfriend and his football team, the tensions high as they made their way up the tables towards the finals. During these periods it was normal for you to see less of Kunigami as he spent all his free time practising with his team, but for a few cherished moments each evening, you’d have him all to yourself.

You’d been lucky enough to accompany him to the championships this year. Often having to resort to FaceTime, texts and voice calls to keep close during the distance in your relationship. But as well as getting to spend more time with your boyfriend during downtime and watching the games from the sidelines, this meant you now got to experience how hostile the environment could get with his teammates.

“That goal was mine, Kunigami.” Raichi snarled after shouldering his way into your hotel room that evening, “You always have to play the fuckin’ hero, huh?”

“You weren’t open,” Kunigami replied smoothly, towelling his hair dry as he stood at the foot of the bed with a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, “And we needed to win.”

“Are you trying to say I couldn’t have made it?” Raichi scoffed.

“There was no way,” Kunigami shrugged, “That’s why Isagi passed to me.”

“And you thought you’d just score the winning goal.” Raichi rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t that the point of the game, Raichi?” Kunigami tutted, dropping the towel onto the office chair in the room to cross his arms over his chest, “Scoring goals?”

“You’re so lucky to have such a good guy ain’t ya, sweetheart.” Raichi seethed, pure venom dripping from his every word.

“Yeah, she is.” Kunigami furrowed his brows, “And I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Keep reading

— heatwave

I’m suffering through the heatwave over here, and Bakugou is the only thing that could make it better or worse.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, Bakugou is your roommate, sweaty sex, dirty talk, spanking, creampie.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“It’s too damn hot,” Bakugou growled as he lay the back of his head against the couch. Even the soft, worn fabric was uncomfortable against his back. Retaining more heat than necessary paired with his body temperature it had sweat pooling against his skin.

Life as an up and coming Pro-Hero had been rough. With long shifts, terrible hours and little pay he was stuck in this dingy, stuffy apartment. Waiting for the day he’d add an extra figure onto his paycheck to have enough to move out. Things like air conditioning were a lavish luxury that he couldn’t afford right now, so it meant suffering through the torridness with a small ice pack he’d grabbed from the freezer.

The only bonus was having a roommate like you.

Originally Bakugou had been adverse to living under the same roof as someone, unable to trust anyone living in close quarters with him. There was an entire cacophony of issues that could arise from picking the wrong person— from being kept up all night, the mess they could leave behind to having friends or hookups in his shared space.

But you had been a godsend, understanding of his unsocial work schedule and his house rules. You could even argue that you were a better roommate than he was, with his friends delighting in showing up unannounced and causing a mess in his apartment. Something that you were always so understanding of when you’d join them for movie nights or dinner.

You were a blessing. Or now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a curse. Now forced to watch you practically saunter around in the shortest short shorts known to man in a feeble attempt to try and deal with the extreme temperatures. Your top half not much better, the stringy vest top you wore— without a bra no less— exposed your midriff and the cute stiffened peaks of your nipples. Not that he was looking, and even if he was what did you expect him to do.

Rubbing sweat from his upper lip as he spreads his legs wide on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes roaming your figure as the shorts hugged the swell of your ass perfectly. Dipping in between the cheeks as he imagined pulling them apart to see what was hidden between them, the material dangerously close to revealing it to him anyway—

You were doing absolutely nothing to help quell the heat oozing through his body. In fact, Bakugou was certain you were making it worse. His cock jumping at the sight of you, pulsing beneath his shorts as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Praying that this sudden heatwave would cease and he could stop being tortured by the sight of you like this every damn day, it was bad enough when he’d catch peeks of you in a towel coming from the bathroom towards your bedroom, or forgotten panties left strewn around. But this? This was unbearable.

“I can’t deal with this heat,” The whiny tone to your voice had Bakugou silencing a growl deep in his chest, watching you hold the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically, “I wanna sit in the freezer.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bakugou knew from experience the heat alone would be enough to shut down the entire machine, and you both definitely didn’t have enough money to replace it if it did.

And that freezer was the only thing satiating the heat so far. Shoving his melting ice pack against his chest, the contents quickly changing form to liquid as he tried to make the most of it before it would have to go back inside the freezer.

“Let me feel,” You came around the couch to stand in front of him, his eyes set in a heavy glare as he tried to weigh up whether it was worth letting you feel how cold the pack was.

It was bad enough having you so scantily clad in such short proximity to him right now, certain he could now smell the saccharine of your perfume as you pulled the top of your vest down, exposing the swell of your breasts as you presented your sternum to him.

Bakugou pushes the pack to your chest and immediately regrets it when the sound you let out is downright sinful. You have to know what you’re doing to him, the way your lips curl into a delicious looking pout and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good.” You moaned, eyes clenched shut to focus on the cool chill that slowly washed over your chest.

His cock jumps in his shorts as he tries to shift his hips to avoid you from noticing the now very evident bulge, the throb pounding through his veins as he feels a different kind of heat beginning to take over.

He should stop here, take his ice pack back and tell you to go and sit in front of your mini desk fan again. Get you out of the room and as far away as possible and save this for another day, a day when you’re both not delirious from the intense heat.

But his depraved thoughts have already consumed him, the thought of your plush body pressed against his while he slides his throbbing cock inside you now at the forefront of his mind as he presses the pack lower. Watching as you arch your back towards it, welcoming the cool chill as you lean forward to splay your sweaty palms against his thick thighs.

And whether he’s delirious from the heat, or it’s the desperate look in your eyes he doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s kissing you fiercely, the ice pack drops forgotten between your bodies in favour of grabbing your hips.

“Fuck,” You kiss him back, words swallowed by his chapped lips as you feel the bulge between his thighs press snug against your crotch.

Your hands reach up to card through messy blond spikes as your nails graze his damp scalp, your tongue swiped against his as he palms your ass. Calloused fingertips disappear beneath the flimsy fabric as he squeezes the fat of it, tugging you down against his hardness as he pulls more sultry sounds from your throat.

“It’s too hot for this, Katsuki.” You whine, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air in the humid room.

At this chance Bakugou’s lips venture lower, peppering kisses along your jawline towards your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your vest. Tugging the fabric down to reveal your round breasts, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips at the marvellous sight.

His nighttime fantasies can’t compare to the sight in front of him, crimson eyes shamelessly ogle your skin to commit the sight to memory as he leans forward.

“Shut up,” He rasps back gruffly while mouthing your breast.

You’re right, it’s entirely too hot for any kind of strenuous activity, especially when he’s sweating so much it already feels like he’s run a marathon. But the way your soft body feels pressed against his is too much to pass up. Especially when this is what he’s been dreaming about ever since he moved in with you, fisting his cock too. It’s too much to leave it to chance that he may get this opportunity again later. Bakugou’s always been a greedy man, and he wants to have you now.

“Fuck,” You cry out when his teeth graze your nipple, pushing your crotch against his with more urgency.

Certain you’ve leaked through the flimsy fabric, desire surges through you dense and fast. A stark contrast to your lethargic movements as you grind yourself down on his lap pathetically.

“Katsuki,” You whine.

His strong hands are doing all the work as he moves you how he pleases. Strong palms pick you up by the meat of your ass to drop you back down on his length. Grinding your puffy clit against his pelvis with each motion as he has you crying out in pleasure.

“Fuck, Katsu. S’too hot—”

You weren’t sure whether it was the humid air permeating the room or the way that Bakugou was looking at you with smouldering eyes that had your body aflame. Muggy, vapid air filling your lungs as clammy hands stroked along his bare torso. Mapping out a course of newly discovered territory as you let your thumbs brush against his pebbled nipples, his chest vibrating against your touch with more sultry groans.

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He hummed, his fingers brushing the crotch of your shorts, “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh,” You gasped when you felt the calloused pads stroke your labia, involuntarily leaning forward to give him more space as Bakugou began to spread you apart for him. Fingers gliding through your messy folds, dragging your essence along your slit until he found your puffy clit.

The contact had you jolting forward, nails grazing his chest as he focused his attention on it. Circling it tentatively with the pad of his finger as you began to rock your hips back against him, uncaring about how debauched you looked as you began to seek your own pleasure.

“Yeah?” He rasped, and the gravelly husk did nothing but increase the desperation inside you, “You like that?”

“Fuck, please—“ You buried your head in the curve of his neck, your lips pressed against the slick skin as you tasted the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue.

“Please what, sweetheart,” He cooed.

“Please—“ You gasped when you felt his thumb press against your empty hole. He knew exactly what you wanted, he was toying with you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your fingers.” You were shameless, your hips grinding back against him as Bakugou finally took mercy on you and pushed his thumb into your sloppy entrance. The slightest penetration enough to drag a deep moan from your throat as he kept his focus against your clit, leaning his head back against the couch to try and see the blissful expression on your face as he worked you with precision.

“Got no damn idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” He husked against your ear, lips soft against the shell as you clenched around him in response, “Always walkin’ round in those fuckin’ short shorts got me wanting to bend you over every surface in this house.”

“Oh fuck,” You mewled, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as he kept his pace constant against your clit, his thumb positioned to press against your spongy wall as his other hand tightened its grip on your ass. Spreading you open, as you found your bliss, “Katsuki.”

“That’s it, good girl.” He hummed, feeling your walls pulse around his digit as he kept his pace. Working you through your release as he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your temple.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d wished the same, coming into the kitchen to see him still in full hero gear after work. Dirt and grime covering his body as his mask was pulled up over his forehead to show his blackened eyes, bending over to grab the carton of juice from the fridge as he held it up to his lips to chug it. Watching his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid flowed, giving you the perfect view of him as you tried to busy yourself to hide the fact you were blatantly staring.

Or the moments where he’d come out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips to shout at you for using the taps in the kitchen while he was showering. The cheap apartment had one flow of hot water and it shut off that luxury whenever it was used elsewhere. The cold water catching him off guard as he glared at you, water droplets drooling down his perfect skin and making him look more like an ancient god or deity than your roommate.

“So why didn’t you?” You asked when you’d come down from your high.

“Huh?” Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before.”

“I like livin’ with you,” He shrugged, “Didn’t wanna jeopardise that.”

“You wouldn’t have,” You smiled, pulling yourself back from his neck to meet his gaze, “I like you too.”

“That mean I can finally eat this pretty little pussy?” He groaned, shuffling his hips, “Been thinkin’ about it since the day I met you.”

“Later, please—” You pawed at the hard bulge between his thigh, his pre staining the fabric as you pressed against the tip.

“Fuck,” He grunted, shamelessly bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of you. His tongue sweeping against his digits to clean them of your slick, “Gonna take you over every damn surface in this house, princess.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of his shorts, Bakugou lifting his hips off the couch to help you drag them down just enough to free his heady cock— the sight of it better than you’d ever imagined in those nightly fantasies.

He was thick and long, bulging veins that forked along the length of him only made him seem that much more intimidating as his balls sat heavy at the base. Neatly trimmed blond hairs decorated his pelvis as they created a pretty trail along his abdomen, unable to resist running your hand along it as his stomach folded at the touch. A sharp hiss sucked sharp through his teeth as you wrapped your hand around him at the base, holding him steady so you could see the tip. The head a swollen pink as pre continued to bead at the slit, drooling down towards his frenulum as you moved to settle between his thighs. Wanting a taste of him yourself as you swiped your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock.

“Oi, I thought you said later,” He teased, rough hands steady on your hips to stop you from moving.

“Please,” You whined pathetically, “Wanna taste you.”

You brought your thumb to your lips as your tongue swiped at the surface, tasting him on your tongue as your lashes fluttered. Crimson eyes focused on your movements as his cock twitched in appreciation, tempted to let you do whatever you pleased. But he’d been waiting far too long for this moment, and there was no way he could wait any longer.

“You little minx,” He groaned as you sucked your thumb, “I promise later.” He groaned, tugging at your shorts, “Do you like these?”

“Yeah, they’re— what the fuck, Katsuki?”

You gasped when you heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric, “I said I liked them.”

“Sorry,” You could tell from the smug grin on his face that he was anything but as he positioned you above his leaky cock, “I gotta have you now.”

You held onto his shoulders as he wrapped a large fist around his cock, dragging the tip through your slick as he felt it catch against your tight entrance. His other hand on your hip slowly dropping you down onto his length as you felt the pleasurable ache of him stretching you open ebb through your pelvis.

“I got you, sweetheart,” He groaned, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you as he felt your warm walls wrap snugly around him, “Gonna take such good care of you.”

You felt hot, the heat radiating from your sex sweltering and yet you didn’t want to let go. The thick girth of his cock filled you perfectly as you felt him pressed against every ridge and groove of your cunt like he was made for you.

Your lips move together languidly, tasting the saltiness from his upper lip as you move together in tandem. Wet and sloppy while his tongue strokes yours, desperation evident by the way you try to deepen the kiss. As though you’re trying to melt into him, to feel him devour you whole.

“Oh, shit.” You choke back a cry when you feel the tip of his cock hit a spot deep inside you, certain you’ve never had something quite so big before.

You struggle to lift yourself up with your legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you grind yourself against his lap. Your clit catching against the trimmed hairs at his base as you roll your hips with desire, your chest pressed taut to his as you start a lazy pace. The scorching heat inside the apartment makes it difficult to breathe as you writhe in his lap, his warm breath fans against your skin almost feels cooler than the thick air clouding the room.

“Kats. It’s too hot.” You whine pathetically, your pace clumsy and sluggish as the desire inside you burns hot and heavy.

“You started this.” He retorts cockily with a smug smirk on his face.

“I did not.” You pout, “This is your fault.”

“Stop whinin’” He reaches back to bring his palm down on your ass in a rough smack, the sweatiness of his quirk has his skin tacking to you as it increases the sensation, clinging to your skin as you gasp in surprise. A painful pleasure courses through your veins as the skin prickles beneath his touch, your pliant walls clamping down around his girth in retaliation.

Without hesitating he reaches his large palms back to cup a cheek in each hand, lifting you up languidly as he marvels the glossy sheen your slick leaves on his cock.

“You just sit there and look pretty, let me do the work.” He spread is thighs wider, giving himself more air as he shifted your weight. Picking you up and dropping you down on his length as he listened to the pretty sounds that spilled from you like a siren, drawing him in and capturing his heart as you pulsed around him.

“Why couldn’t you have got an ice quirk?”

Clammy hands paw at his shoulders as Bakugou repeats the motion, skin tacking to skin as he bounces you on his cock. The kinetic energy builds heat swiftly and harsh as you feel the stickiness against your skin. Your wetness seeps out against his pelvis and matts the hair at his base, catching your clit with each drop of your hips.

“Shut the fuck up,” He scoffed, “You won’t be sayin’ that come winter.”

The thought of having his warm body to warm you during those cold winter months, still being with him then— had you clenching around him.

“Oh yeah? You like the sound of that?” He grinned, “Can feel this pussy clenchin’ around me.”

“Fuck, Katsuki.” The heat was becoming unbearable, radiating from your core as it burned molten lava. The coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you danced on the crux of your release, gasping for air as he changed tact. Holding your hips tight under sweaty palms as he planted his feet flat on the ground, pistoning his hips up into your pliant sex, “There— oh, god. Right there—”

“That’s it,” He rasped, watching your tits bounce with each rapid thrust, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“‘m gonna cum,” You choked out between moans, feeling the curved tip of his cock drag against the spongy spot inside you with each thrust, “Oh shit—”

“Cum for me,” He growled, “Cum all over my cock.”

The tips of Bakugou’s thumbs pressed against your pelvis, tightening his grip as it only increased the pressure. Sweat trickling down your temples as he sent you vaulting over the edge into euphoria.

“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his cock as you willed him to come with you, trying to milk him of his seed.

The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before, mind-numbingly intense as you cried out a jumbled mess of his name. Your nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he hissed beneath you, shamelessly searching for his own end as the heat radiated from your body. Sliding against each other from the sweat that now trickled down your skin, leaving a glossy sheen against you both as he used you for his own pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bakugou grunted, moving to lift you off his cock before you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, unbothered about the stifling heat in the room as you kept him tight against you.

“Cum inside me, Katsuki.” You gasped a he choked back a grunt, your words all it took to meet his own end.

His guttural moans are sinful, erotic as you cling to him with fervour. Committing the sensation to memory as though it’s the last time you’ll have him like this, as if the heat has him in this delirious state. And maybe it does—

You never thought Bakugou could look so pretty like this, completely vulnerable as he exposes his most intimate self to you. Thick, white spurts of cum spurt from his tip as he empties his balls inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes hot and heavy as you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

Bodies slumped together on the couch as you feel the dampness of skin against skin, your vest that now sits useless around your waist is soaked and warm as the fabric clings to your body.

“I’m so sticky,” You whine childishly, making no attempt to move as Bakugou’s fingers trace absent-minded patterns along your exposed back.

“How the fuck dya think I feel?” He rasps, “My ass is stuck to the couch.”

“Eww,” You tease, running your nose along his collarbone as you take in the musky scent of him, “We’ll have to get another couch.”

He catches you by surprise as he presses the forgotten ice pack to the back of your neck, although it’s mostly melted it’s a stark contrast to your sweltering body as you flinch in surprise. Your cunt clenches around him at the sensation as Bakugou grunts from the attention.

“Oh shit, don’t do that sweetheart—“ He hisses, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you tight against him, “You’ll make me hard again.”

Something that you’re not sure you’d mind, even though your body is screaming out for a different kind of relief now. Desperate to cool your temperature down as you scrunch your nose in irritation.

“I feel so gross.” You complain as he gives your ass another playful spank as you barely move from the impact, your bodies stuck together with a mixture of heat and sweat.

“Got no one to blame but yourself, princess,” He groans, “I was just mindin’ my business until you came over in those little shorts.”

“You weren’t complaining when you were balls deep.” You moved your head back to glare at him.

“My balls feel like they’re on fire now,” He scoffs, leaning forward to peck your pouty lips, “Cold shower?” He asks, although he’s already decided he’s showering with you— he’s taking every moment he can with you now.

Jungkook

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 [Part 1: Goldrush]

There's always a certain sense of childish sadness in a man consumed by rage and anger- because in a man like him, those feelings are simply born from the pain of the past, and the crushing fear of what the future might yet make him face.

Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Tiger!Jungkook, Deer!Reader, mentioned abuse, mentions of underground fights, graphic descriptions of violence, a gun oh no, Jungkook in a suit, it's pretty dark read at your own risk, there is like a hint of fluff?, just let me cook I promise it'll be worth it, do not read this if you're easily triggered/upset by dark and violent themes please thank you

Length: 6.5k Words (oh boy look at the size of that thing)

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Haha remember when I said it'll be 3k words per chapter? well I lied oops

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook met you after his first fight for the Golden House.

Humming a tune you'd almost danced through the kitchen- though you were mostly focused on helping the other maids and cooks prepare the food for the higher up's currently invited for dinner at the estate. He remembers he'd scared you- probably due to his rather beat up face, none of it having been treated most of the time, just so he could scar up and look tough on the outside.

It had worked- somewhat. Though his hybrid genes had made it rather difficult to hurt him enough to permanently scar- all of them eventually fading, needing to be remade, night after night.

The look of fear in your eyes had been something he got used to- or maybe he simply didn't notice it after a while, maybe it became normal to see you in a constant state of fight or flight. He never saw you rest, only saw you work- but when you were away from the Boss and only amongst yourself or him, you had a certain sense of lightness to yourself. Like a feather, as cliché as it sounds.

If it wasn't for your hybrid features, Jungkook would've sworn you were more of a bird than a deer- put in a cage, fear used against yourself to lock you in and to the Golden House forever. Just like he himself was shackled up, bought and owned by the highest man just so he could have some amusement watching the tiger hybrid fight in the ring.

He was a toy to him. Just like you. Just like any other hybrid at the Golden House.

Sometimes, when no one was paying much attention, you'd visit Jungkook in his room. You'd clean his wounds, and most of all- you'd talk to him like an equal. You'd tell him of dreams you had at night, of thoughts you'd come up with during your chores, or with fantasies you had about the world outside the walls of the estate. And he'd listen to all of it, quietly, your voice soothing his wounds more than any medication ever could.

Maybe your fear towards him didn't just become normal to him, so he didn't notice it. Maybe it disappeared, slowly, and that's why it left your gaze. You didn't fear him. Didn't see him as an enemy. And maybe that's what really changed.

It was winter when he found out about the consequences to your actions.

He'd spotted you outside in the snow, white flakes falling steadily onto your head and clothes, feet naked and red from the cold. It was punishment- for caring for him, doing something you weren't told to. You'd hidden it, kept it a secret so he probably wouldn't feel bad- but the true nature of it was more selfish than that. "I don't want you to stop talking to me." You'd said when he'd confronted you about it. "I don't want you to ignore me like everyone else does." You'd cried. He hadn't even spoken much to you at all, and yet the few words he'd gifted to you were more than you had ever received before.

And so he had to compromise, and instead tried harder not to get injured in the ring, so no one would notice when you'd help him heal.

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He knows that you saw the signs when his mind had started to slip. When his anger grew, and his sanity took a backseat inside his head.

Especially when the Head of the estate had decided it would be a delight to make you watch Jungkook fighting in the ring every time he had to as a way of trying to make you stop your foolish actions of helping the fighting hybrid- to show you how cruel and brutal the otherwise quiet and reserved tiger could really be, as he'd dislocate limbs and break bones night after night with a certain sense of bloodthirst in his gaze, eyes no longer kind but cold. How he'd bite and scratch with pure intent to hurt and end the fight in his favor, no matter the outcome for his opponent.

Jungkook knows that your view on him changed back then, even if you did not tell him that. He could feel it, in the way your hands would begin to tremble before touching him, or how you'd suddenly no longer reach out to him.

Gone was your attachment to him, murdered was any emotional connection you'd been creating.

At the end of the day, you had been nothing but a puppet to the head of the Golden House, nothing but a doll fed with orders because no matter what, you'd do it if it meant you'd survive another day. You would've probably even killed him if it had been asked of you- even though he wouldn't have let you.

You wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

The kiss you'd shared had been more than questionable, and he does feel bad about the circumstances back then.

He knew that it could've gotten you killed if anybody had ever caught you both, and he also knows that if it wasn't for his own initiative, you would've never made that step either. But he loved you, he loved you so much it hurt, and he hated being hurt because it was a constant for him he could never escape.

Everything he did, every situation he found himself in, every waking moment had been nothing but pain in one way or another. Nothing could soothe that ache in his body, could somehow make that burn in his bones feel a little lighter.

Nothing but your touch.

You cared. Even though he knew that you feared him, you still cared. And he hated it.

Why didn't you push him away, make him angry at you so he could have a solid reason to just get rid of you? The only reason he continued to endure wasn't so he could survive- he never gave a fuck about survival, none at all. But the heartbreak in your eyes, the fact that you'd be alone, the memory of you crying so bitterly about being ignored and put aside was continuously making him pull himself back up whenever knocked down, to win the fight and come back to the Golden House-

where you'd wait for him, soft hands on his skin relieving his rage just for a moment. Giving him a second to breathe. Where you'd kiss his wounds, and lift all the weight off of him for just a second.

And then you betrayed him.

"Thats a train ticket! I got it from Chun, she said it'll take you to busan." You'd told him, panic in your eyes as you'd pushed the slightly torn canvas bag filled with clothes and other necessities further into his arms. "After your fight tonight, there will be a dog hybrid named Min Yoongi in the locker room. He'll take you to the station.!" You said.

"And you?" He asks, dreading the answer he'd inevitably get.

"I'll be your insurance." You'd smiled.

"He'll take all his anger out on you-" He'd worried, and you'd nodded, and never looked so brave.

"I know." You'd told him. "But you'll live- and that's enough for me."

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"Flake has been replaced with Dohyun. The people aren't very happy with it, but he'll make them accept the change soon enough." Namjoon offers, setting some papers down in front of Jungkook, who looks like he might be asleep- face resting on his hand, arm perched up with his elbow on the armrest of his chair.

"Hm, they're never happy when a hybrid's on top." He mumbles lowly, eyes not opening. "I assume Flake didn't go… voluntarily." He asks.

"No." Namjoon responds. "Was executed on his balcony."

"Classy. I like it." Jungkook chuckles, eyes slowly opening as he takes in a deep breath. "Hm, I'm hungry-" He starts, looking at his watch on his wrist. "-let's hope Hideo doesn't piss me off tonight, or I might just have to swap him too." He growls, slowly getting up to prepare for the dinner he has to attend with the human gangleader.

Jungkook had the chance to get out. He's been given the chance after all, by the only person he's ever really considered he 'loved'- and yet his thirst for blood wouldn't let him go. The need for revenge was way too big inside him to be just satisfied with living his own life away from his past- but he couldn't.

They took everything he ever had away from him. They took you away from him. And he'd never forgive that.

So he began to convince Yoongi to join him in his plans, took the first few pillars out to make the fundamentals of the underground gang life crumble. He shook up the entire game, and began to 'swap out' human leaders with hybrids from his own rows- a gang he'd build up himself, consisting of almost exclusively hybrids of all kinds. He knows he's not doing any good with the way he's doing things- but he doesn't care.

If he can't change the game, he'll become the best player instead.

And currently, he's definitely on the road to take the seat as the king.

"Jungkook!" The rather eccentric man stands up, opens his arms for the hybrid who does not attempt to return the gesture or accept the invitation at all. "My favorite big cat, come take a seat!" He laughs it off, sits down with Jungkook, who keeps his face stoic and expressionless. "Can we have some chairs here please? I'd hate for your friends to stay standing while we eat-" He tries, but Jungkook shakes his head.

"No need. I'd rather have them pay at attention." Jungkook responds, and Hideo laughs in front of him.

"Always so on edge. Never change my boy!" He jokes, before the food is being placed on the table. "So. I heard you let Flake tumble down his balcony like a dramatic movie-climax." He chuckles, cutting into his steak. Jungkook nods, begins to eat as well, but keeps his eyes on the man in front of him. "Quite the spectacle. Made the higher up's a little nervous." He tells him.

"Good." Jungkook simply answers, and Hideo laughs.

Hideo is one of the only few human leaders left in his original spot- mainly because the man is rather interested in surviving, and keeping his head in one piece. He's smart, albeit a little bit unhinged- sometimes even causing Jungkook himself to feel uneasy around the man. He's a wildcard, and does what he wants whenever he wants, only follows rules if they're in his favor.

So Jungkook is wary of him, and doesn't trust that man as far as the bridge of his own nose.

"They say his minions aren't too happy with your new choice." The man mumbles, shrugging his shoulders however, clearly unbothered. "But they just don't like the change. What you should worry about however, is the money you're loosing." He says, making Jungkook's eyes sharpen.

"What money are you talking about?" He asks, finishing up his plate.

"The money you're not aware of." Hideo chuckles. "Flake had two daughters, and rumor has it they both emptied their bank accounts a few days before you struck and pushed Rapunzel down her tower." The man informs him, licking his knife while looking at Jungkook, who tries hard to make nothing visible on his face. He knows exactly what the man is trying to tell him.

Somehow, those daughters knew Jungkook would attack. Which in turns, means someone told them.

Which hints at a snitch.

"Sakata is currently finding them as we speak, so no worries about that." Hideo suggests, finishing his meal as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "The only thing you should do, would be to.. sniff out who needs to go, so to speak." He says, grinning at Yoongi, who pins his ears back in irritation at the joke. Jungkook leans back, tilts his head once, before he stands up.

"I want to know the whereabouts of those two daughters the moment you have them." Jungkook says dryly. "Do not kill them. I want to.. talk to them personally." He orders, and Hideo laughs, nodding with his hands clapping once.

"Of course! Oh and-" The human man grins, and it tells Jungkook that the man has something to say that will definitely cause problems. "-I heard my dear Chisoo left you a present at your estate?" He says, catching Jungkook off guard for a second, as the tiger hybrid looks to his side towards Namjoon, who shares an equally confused gaze. "Oh, you've not seen it yet? Hm, it does explain his good mood, doesn't it?" Hideo asks one of his guards who doesn't react. "Ah, I really liked that guy. Don't be too harsh on the boy, yeah? He doesn't know how to.. read a room, you know? His jokes can be terrible." He laughs.

Jungkook slowly leaves, but as soon as he sits inside the back of his car, he's growling out orders. "Call Chisoo right now." He demands Namjoon, who already dials the number. "If he doesn't answer we'll pay him a visit right now." He says, waiting for the speaker system of his car to reveal the voice of the man.

"Jungkook! What's up my guy?" The young voice chimes out.

"Cut the shit. What did you do?" Jungkook demands, and Chisoo just laughs on the other end.

"Oh you've not seen it yet? I thought you'd like it!" He says, clearly eating. "Saw the poor thing and remembered something I heard from a former guard of the Golden House." He chuckles, and Jungkook's blood runs cold. "Look man, I have some urgent business right now. If you don't want it, you can just get rid of it- I won't judge." He laughs, before he hangs up the phone.

"Tell Seokjin to check the premises before we drive back." Yoongi informs him from the driver's seat, instructing Namjoon who calls the man right away.

"Seokjin." Jungkook says as the phone is picked up. "What the fuck did Chisoo bring?" He demands to know, and grows increasingly uneasy when the answer isn't what he hoped he'd get.

"I.. you should just not worry about it. It was probably meant to just anger you." He tells the tiger hybrid, not specifying things. "I've already dealt with.. it, just-"

"That's not your decision to make." Jungkook growls. "I'm on my way back right now, and I want whatever it is in my office before I'm back at the estate. Am I making myself clear?" He demands.

"..yes." Seokjin simply complies, though with great hesitation.

Because he knows, the moment Jungkook knows what it is, there will be nothing capable of calming Jungkook down.

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One, two, three.

You're counting each tick of the clock standing on the table in the office, waiting for something to happen. That's all you've been instructed to do- the man earlier having escorted you here, and just told you to 'wait', and nothing else. So you do just that, naked feet on the soft carpet, intricate details on the fabric almost hypnotizing you. It's already a lot warmer in here than in your room at the Golden House- and the man who brought you here had given you his jacket too, probably because he thought you were shaking from the cold.

Which you did- but you also tend to shiver from fear, mostly due to your hybrid instincts.

Just.. in here, you don't really feel scared. It smells familiar in here, like something you forgot existed- almost like a childhood memory, far away but reawakened right in this moment. It soothes your worries and slows down your thoughts tremendously.

ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six.

You can hear faint noises now, ears turning towards the door behind you, though your body otherwise doesn't move. you don't dare to, since the handcuffs around your wrists might make a noise, and no one told you if you were allowed to move anyways. So you just stay still, even when you can hear someone argue in front of the door, angrily, upset. The voice is familiar, again- but you don't recall a face to it whatsoever.

One hundred.

The door opens, people walk in. Your face stays lowered, you don't even dare to swallow the saliva in your mouth. "Why the fuck did he send me a hybrid?!" Someone growls, and it makes your throat clog up, angry tone causing your muscles to tremble once more. "Fuck. And why is she not-" He starts, before he stops right next to you, frozen in place almost like you are- though due to different reasons.

"Jungkook-" Someone sighs, when Jungkook next to you talks again, but in a truly bone-chilling tone.

It's so low, and steady, that it makes everyone wordlessly follow the command.

"Out." He says. "Everyone, out, right fucking now." He growls, and both Namjoon and Yoongi leave, though the dog hybrid hesitates a little- shocked as well by the sight of you, most likely.

Once the door closes, it quiets down. All you can really hear is the way the man called Jungkook walks around, paces for a good while, clearly in distress. You're not sure why you're causing him to be like this- maybe he doesn't know if he wants to kill you or not. Or he's fighting primal urges to hunt you down as a predator hybrid. It could be a lot of things.

You lost track of the ticking. You can't hear it properly with Jungkook moving around like that.

"Don't- stop doing that.!" He suddenly says, and you notice yourself panicking. What are you doing right now? You're not moving, you're not looking at him, and neither have you said anything- though that's out of the question anyways. What are you doing that you need to stop? You're barely even breathing- maybe that's it? It's an odd request, and you doubt you can properly follow it for long, but if he wants you to do that-

"Stop being scared!" He suddenly roars at you, hands on your shoulders making you whimper out of pure instinct, as you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly. "Don't-.. I'm not.." He stammers, before he takes a deep breath, seems to control himself as his hands leave your shoulders, instead push themselves into the pockets of his slacks. "Look at me." He demands, and you do just that.

His hair is fairly long, growing over his ears, curly and a deep black. There's two round tiger ears between his wild hair, one of them a little torn, but the scar seems long healed. His eyes are piercing, watching you intently as if he's searching for something with desperation, jawline sharp but his face has a certain roundness to it.

It doesn't distract you from the danger he radiates, tail swaying impatiently behind him. He's a tiger, in every way- large shoulders and powerful muscles unable to be hidden even underneath the suit he wears.

But there's a certain shift in his posture and most of all his gaze as he seems to realize something about you.

"Who am I." He asks, or more so orders you to answer. You begin to panic once more. How are you supposed to answer that? "Who. Am. I." He repeats slower, and you open your mouth to say something-

though no coherent word leaves your lips, only barely a noise that even sounds like it hurts, and it makes your eyes sting.

Jungkook seems to grow angry again. Is he upset that you can't answer? Will he kill you now, because you're unable to give him a proper response?

"Do-" He looks absolutely devastated, and for some reason, it makes you sad. "Do you know who I am?" he quietly asks, bracing himself for the answer he might receive.

Though nothing could prepare him for the pain he feels in his entire body when you quietly shake your head, confirming his worst fears.

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You've not only forgotten him- but everything else too, it seems like, according to Namjoon, who'd been trying to sort you out since Jungkook left you in his office, unable to really have you close like that any longer. His friend had tried it all, and had also let someone with medical knowledge have a look at you- which also gave an explanation about why you just won't talk.

You can't. It's not clear what exactly must've happened, but there's a definite injury there that won't let you make any sound without pain.

It's now pretty obvious to him that you must've gotten caught giving him a way out- and you probably paid the consequences for it too. Whatever happened caused you to forget most of your past, and no one can be sure if it's permanent, or just temporary. What is clear however is that you're completely hollow. There's no trace of a personality in anything you do, no personal preferences towards anything, no interest, not even very noticeable emotions.

It's not surprising to him- and maybe that's what pains him the most.

"So if you don't tell her what to do, she will just do nothing at all?" Jungkook asks as he looks through some documents to distract himself. The more he thinks about you, the darker the possible punishments that you most likely received become in his head- mind forcing scene after scene of you into his brain.

"Won't even sleep if no one tells her to. She was awake the whole night because no one told her when to sleep I guess." Namjoon says, arms crossed. "It's hard to tell what she's thinking considering she doesn't talk." Namjoon sighs defeated, while Jungkook stares at the papers for a moment.

You used to talk a lot, back when he was still used for underground fighting, and you were nothing but a maid for the gangleader. He remembers you humming random songs while dressing his wounds- something you told him was to mostly distract yourself from not crying in front of him.

"I'll fight better next time." He'd told you while you carefully placed the large plaster onto one of the scratches that's still bleeding. "So you won't have to cry."

"I want every bit of info as to where she came from before Chisoo got his hands on her." He tells Yoongi who's been sitting in the corner.

"I believe Chisoo bought her straight from the Golden House. Overheard him talk to one of the guests." Yoongi responds, and Jungkook nods.

"Good." He smirks, standing up, and bracing his hands on the table with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "I've got some unfinished business with them anyways." He says. The Golden House was no longer a place of fear for him- because just like you, Jungkook isn't who he used to be.

"You're going to start a war over a hybrid friend you made years ago?" Namjoon worries. "Jungkook.." he sighs, but the Tiger hybrid doesn't back down.

Because you're not just a friend.

You were his Savior, the only soft thing he's ever had in his life.

"No. I'm not just starting a war-" Jungkook growls like the predator he is. "I'm getting my revenge."

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Yoongi watches over you like a guard dog, just like Jungkook had told him to.

You'd overheard the tall tiger hybrid give those instructions to Yoongi just before he left in his car, and now you're left standing in the hallway where someone last told you to wait. "Come. You need to eat." The dog hybrid mumbles, walking a step before he checks if you follow. You do.

Of course you do.

You'd jump out the fucking window if someone told you to do so.

Before you were taken in by the Golden House, you'd actually roamed the streets with the dog hybrid together. You'd slept in a storage unit his past owner had rented before he died, a small place of shelter you eventually shared with Yoongi before you met Yuan Shun, the past head of the Golden House. You'd been way too naive back then. Told Yoongi you'd finally found a home to go to, finally found work to pay him back all his kindness.

You didn't know what you'd get yourself into. Not before Shun had forced you to get the small tattoo on your wrist that would forever bind you to him no matter if he died or lived. Every member of the Golden House had to get it one way or another- there was no way around it.

It was burned into everyone's wrist, whether they wanted it or not.

And once you're in, there is no out.

"Jungkook won't harm you." Yoongi says as he pulls out a bowl of something prepared, before he puts it into the microwave to heat it up. "He's just.. he can be a bit.." the dog hybrid sighs, shaking his head a little, unsure how to phrase it properly. Jungkook has his own problems, and it's pretty obvious to everyone around him that he's not the sanest of people any longer. No one can blame him for cracking a few braincells after what's happened to him, that's true- but that doesn't mean that he's a monster.

He's just scarred by his past, and haunted by his potential future.

You want to ask Yoongi what your connection to the tiger hybrid is. You really do- but you also feel like it's none of your business. If anything, you're simply waiting for orders, for a job you'll be working as from now on, a task you'll be given in this new place. The dynamic of things here is confusing to you, how everyone seems to walk freely, no one ever standing in one place waiting to be needed. You even saw someone laughing in one of the hallways.

It's eerie. You don't like it here.

"Eat." Yoongi says, before he holds your wrist, one of his ears twitching in irritation when he notices it's the one with the fine lined burn mark of the Golden House. "- when it's cooled down a little, of course." He sighs, and you nod after a moment, staring at the bowl of pasta.

Waiting. Counting the ticking from the clock in the kitchen.

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"I don't give a flying fuck-" Jungkook growls, knee connecting with the man's jaw once more before he pushes the chair back, gripping his face to force him to look at him. "-about your so-called loyalty." He finishes his sentence. "The only reason I'm not breaking your jaw yet is because I need you to be able to talk." He threatens, before he steps back, and wipes his hand on a tissue.

"I'm not talking. Daeho will-" He starts, when Jungkook slowly and carefully loads a black gun in his hand, pulling the magazine back to ready it in his hands.

"Daeho will what?" Jungkook almost sings. "Kill you?" He asks with feigned innocence in his tone, while he walks forward, and points the nuzzle of the gun straight at the man's kneecap. "How nice. But you see, I'm not Daeho." The tiger tells him, tilting his head a little.

"And I'm not nice."

A shot rings through the small room, followed by agonized screaming, and the gun reloading in Jungkook's hands. "Now, I'll try again. Why did Daeho sell her to Chisoo?" He asks, and the man takes a few deep breaths.

"He wanted to fuck with you." He grits out from between his teeth. "He knew it would piss you off. He technically wanted to send you a tape- you know what kind." He says, and Jungkook's blood boils up again. Of course he knows what kind of actions that sick man would have forced you to do, what exactly he'd make Jungkook watch. "But he thought-.." The man needs to catch himself a little. "He thought it'd make more sense to give her to you instead. Alive."

"Why?" Jungkook asks.

"Because you'd lose your fucking- whatever the fuck you're doing!" He groans. "You'd turn soft. Maybe even break at the sight of her all fucked up like she is now." He explains. "That's why he messed her up before you got her." he says, clearly sweating now from his body trying to keep up with the rapid bloodloss.

Jungkook is silent, before he unloads the gun, clicks the safety in place, and puts it back into it's holster on his belt, turning to leave the room. "Wait- wait, what about me-!"

"You can bleed out right here like the pig you are."

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Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Mostly, because whatever was, isn't any better than what is now. The blood staining Jungkook's hands is still the same consistency as back in the fighting ring, it still washes down the drain the same way as it did before. There's nothing new to the way his knuckles hurt from the force of the punches he'd delivered to the man, and yet, there's a new sting in his chest that just won't leave.

Before you came here, he had at least a way of pacifying his worries about you. Before, he'd been able to just convince himself that you probably got yourself killed for him- that you'd been set free after all, finally escaping your cage once and for all.

The fact that you did not, and instead just went from one cage to the next, makes him nauseous. He doesn't even want to know what you had to endure throughout the years you'd been apart. Now you're just a shell- a plastic lifeless version of what you once were, nothing of your soul remaining inside of you. Could he even consider you 'you' any longer? Or were you now someone else?

Are you someone at all?

"Where is she?" Jungkook asks Seokjin, who'd brought him a plate of dinner into his office.

"She's eating with Yoongi downstairs in the kitchen." He tells his boss and friend, who's currently looking outside the window facing the balcony. "What do we do with her?"

I don't know, is what Jungkook's only answer can be. Because he surely doesn't- he's unsure if actually killing you would be a more generous thing to do than letting you simply waste away in the state that you're in right now. What you are, in this moment, can't be called 'alive'. There's nothing living behind those eyes, nothing but fear.

But he also knows that he'd never be able to put the gun to your head and shoot.

"Can I give a suggestion?" Jin asks after a moment of silence, and Jungkook turns his head, nodding. "What if you turn this whole 'joke' around?"

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks, body now moving as well to face his older friend.

"Right now, her presence is doing exactly what it's supposed to." The cat hybrid says. "She's making you lose focus, makes you act without thinking. That's what they want."

"I'm not killing her." Jungkook defends.

"I'm not asking you to." Seokjin says, walking closer. "But think about it. What about her is making you feel like this the most?" He urges.

The fear you have. The fact you forgot him. The terror in your eyes. The emptiness you represent.

"Jungkook, you told me once that back then, she was the only thing keeping you sane in that place." The man says, white ears twitching between his hair. "And she can become just that once again."

"Have you seen her?" Jungkook growls.

"Have you?" Jin challenges. "You're in a place of power here. You call the shots, this-" He gestures around. "-all of this is yours. You offer us protection, a home, a place to let our guard down for once. You're not who you were before. You turned your life around- and you can do it again, but this time, it'll be her's." He says, and suddenly, Jungkook understands what his friend is trying to tell him.

This is his place. His territory. He's in charge. He's in control.

Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Because he'll be the change it needs to turn this twisted joke around.

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"Remember, he's nothing to be scared of." Yoongi tells you, before he opens the door, and gently pushes you inside by your lower back- before he leaves you alone with the tiger hybrid in the room, no longer wearing his jacket, only dressed in a casually unbuttoned black shirt and slacks.

Even his gun is on the table. You could take it at any moment, shoot him, no problem. You know how to shoot a gun. Is he that stupid?

Probably not. There has to be a reason for his actions- you don't think he got to his position by being reckless.

He moves slowly, a lot more confident and most of all relaxed than when you last saw him- the person he is right in this moment a stark contrast to who he'd been when he first saw you. It makes you suspicious, unsure, because if he houses so many different versions of himself inside his body, how could you ever know who the real one is?

"The rules in this house, and under my hand, are simple." He says, voice surprisingly calm as he speaks. "Loyalty." He states, looks at you- and from the fact alone that he doesn't seem to mind, you guess that Yoongi was right when he said that you were allowed to do that. "As long as you don't betray me, I will offer you a safe place, and protection."

That doesn't make sense to you.

If that was true, that would mean that he'd just take in random people just because they don't snitch on him- what the hell would he even get out of that? Inside the Golden House, there were already rumors about him. That he's possessed by the drive to 'change the game' and put hybrids up on top, an odd way to live since apparently he'd escaped this entire circus years prior. Why would he willingly return to it?

Even worse, play the game he barely managed to get out of?

He sits down on the edge of his bed, and only now do you realize where exactly you might be right now. And it confuses you even more. He's letting you into his personal rooms?

Why?

"Come here." He says, and your legs move without any of your control. Like a puppet on a string you're pulled towards him, unable to really go against any orders told to you, like you're mind controlled. The moment you stand in front of him, he reaches out his hand- and you're torn by the possible choice given to you. But if he reaches out, you're supposed to take the hand, right?

Instead, you put your own in his, not making a decision at all.

Control is a scary thing. You don't want it.

He looks at your wrist as he turns your hand over, thumb running over the signature branding you have on your skin, burned in scar never fading. It's when you can spot something on the hand that holds yours, between all the ink and color he's placed underneath the skin. A scar, achingly similar to your own.

Your eyes find his- but he's not looking at you.

So he's from the same place as you once were. Is that why he smells so familiar? Did you forget him? Or did you never know him at all, and simply caught traces of him during your time at the Golden House?

Who is he?

"From now on, you're mine." He tells you, and you soak up that info like a sponge. "You belong here, and nowhere else." He says, and you nod to make sure he knows that you understand. There's a small moment where he simply looks at you, before he nods as well, and lets go of your hand. "Can you write?" He asks, and you eagerly nod, finally expecting a task from him. You'll be useful, you'll have something to do- you won't just have to stand around and wait for something that never happens. "Good. That gives me at least some way you can talk to me, I guess." He mumbles to himself as he gets up and walks past you, to dig around in a small drawer of a desk close by. "I want you to talk. If not with your voice-" He offers a small, palm sized notebook to you, a pen clipped to it's side. "-then with this."

You take the booklet with a nod, opening it to write something down. He expects a thank you- but that's not what he gets.

'What is my purpose here?' you've written, and he sighs to himself.

"Heal." He says, making you look at him confused. You're already starting to show a lot more emotions he notices, and it calms him down quite a bit, because that means that even though you may have forgotten him, you're at least slowly adapting to the overall environment you're now in. You move to write something again, before you hold out the booklet.

'There has to be a job for me.' you write, and he tilts his head at you, arms crossed, veins clear under his forearms, exposed since he'd rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"And I just told you what it is." He responds, face expressionless, but eyes glimmering with something almost mischievous. "Your job is to heal, adjust, and adapt to the way I run things." He tells you. "But if you want a.. job, I can try and arrange something for you." He huffs, dissatisfied, but still caving in.

You show him the opened page again, something added to the bottom.

'Thank you' is written there.

He just nods, and knocks on his door to give Namjoon the sign to take you to your room so you can sleep- and leave him by himself for a moment, as he watches the calm night-sky from his window, world steadily moving on while he doesn't know what's to come for him.

Even if Seokjin is right, there is no guarantee that this whole thing won't just backfire horribly. And there's still the looming threat of someone amongst his people who's currently the biggest danger to the house of cards Jungkook had barely built up over the years until now. If that person just so much as pushes one more card, it might all come falling down-

and this time, he'll take you with him.

If he dies, you can't survive.

Because if you do, you'll probably face a fate he doesn't even want to imagine.

LIMERENCE | jeon jungkook

[ mini series ] [ masterlist ]

lim·er·ence

noun

the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship.

LIMERENCE | 18+ | s | a … ex!jungkook

ONE SHOT

summary: a recent discovery of old VCR tapes takes you down a rabbit hole of self-pity, remembering what you once had and how it all went down the drain over youthful mistakes. suddenly, you find yourself playing back the old tapes of the best relationship you’ve ever had and all you can think about is how to get it back—if you could get it back

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ exes au | Y2K | grunge┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

warnings: TBD. angst. smut. [jk and oc in videos: 18-20 | jk and oc now: 26]

COMING SOON

[ song inspo : do I wanna know — arctic monkeys {crawling back to you, ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?}]

VIDEO LOGS :

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 3 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 8 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 11 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 14 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 19 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 22 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

․ ∘ ⊹ ✰ ┆ JJK 24 ┆ ✰ ⊹ ∘ .

COMING SOON

…

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog g @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover r @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura a @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

much ado about nothing masterlist - plug!eren x reader series - 18+!!

Between being an English professor and a graduate student, your time is valuable and often stretched thin, and does not include room for many "extracurricular activities". When you come home one day to find your roommate picking up from the local dealer, however, your dedication to your hectic schedule wavers. ⚘ i'm SO excited to finally share this series. i've been fangirling over this eren by myself for way too long and i'm super excited to bring you guys into the loop.

please find the best fan art of all time made by my bestie @fictional-d-supremacy for this series linked HERE :)

ALSO my lovely moot @animakemecry made a playlist, what the fuck?? so cute!! please find that linked here for listening <3

DISCLAIMER: this series contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor or ageless blog, please do not interact.

content warnings for smut, alcohol and drug use (duh he's literally a drug dealer), some slight toxicity, and historia being your adorable bestie throughout the series

here's the ao3 link for anyone who would prefer to read on there!

Chapter 1 - courtesy of historia, you land your sights on the cute drug dealer that services much of campus. your common sense wins out...until you have a few drinks at girls' night, that is.

Chapter 2 - eren invites you and historia to a kickback with his friends. hilarity and mind-numbing sexual tension ensure.

Chapter 3 - eren's gotten under your skin, but you've decided that a one night stand should solve your little obsession, and eren's not one to deny you.

Chapter 4 - historia and sasha finally get to find out if all the rumors about eren are true. you learn a little more about eren's past thanks to sasha's sex drive. eren is the king of bad timing.

Chapter 5 - eren, still reeling from a mysterious text he received, meets you at paradise, the local club. he debates the meaning of the word 'friends' and you drink too many vodka sodas.

Chapter 6 - you deal with the fall-out of your night at paradise. sasha goes back on her word. floch...floch just sucks.

much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

-

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,. 

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

 “Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however. 

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup. 

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar. 

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

꒷♡꒷ STUCK!

♰ featuring: nagi seishiro + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]

♰ note: thank you all so much for supporting my last work as much as you did. it really means so much to me that people genuinely enjoy my writing and my content! now, as my second-ever work, i would appreciate it greatly if you would continue to support my work by reading, liking, and reblogging! also, I tried to make their sections as even as possible, but i'm a ryusei simp so uhhh enjoy!

sypnosis: in which you find yourself stuck in a rather precarious position and your boyfriend decides to "help" you. not without proper payment first, though. wc: 3.4k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. SMUT. fem/fem-bodied reader. stuckage. shidou is a warning on his own. accidental choki abuse (nagi). dry humping. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. creampie/breeding. spanking. name-calling/dirty talk (ryusei). ꒷꒦

NAGI SEISHIRO.

It was a normal weekend, unlike any other. It was just before noon, and you were cleaning your and Seishiro’s shared apartment while he was at the gym with Reo. You were diligently working to remove the accumulated dust from your wooden dresser with a disinfectant wipe that had a coconut scent when, all of a sudden, your hand bumped into something rather hard.

“Choki!!”

You shrieked, watching in horror as your boyfriend’s beloved potted cactus flew off of the dresser and knocked into the wall behind it. Everything moved in slow motion, and you could only gawk in horror as the pot spun once, twice, and then tumbled behind the dresser. You grimaced inwardly, awaiting the sound of shattering ceramics and the dull shuffling of displaced dirt, but it never came. Instead, the sound of the pot sliding down the wall and "gracefully" hitting the floor was heard instead.

With baited breath, you grabbed your phone, turning it to flashlight mode. You used it as a visual aid as you peered behind the dresser to assess the damage, sighing with relief when you saw Choki, Seishiro’s child, lying almost undisturbed between the wall and the backboard of the dresser.

Now here comes the difficult part, moving the dresser.

Kicking off your fuzzy house slippers to give yourself some traction, you grabbed the back end of one side and mustered all of your strength to shove the heavy thing out of the way—slowly, of course. Choki’s life was at stake here. However, you were only able to move the heavy thing out of the way just enough so that you could slip part of your body inside to reach for the plant. It was still a very tight fit.

Getting on your knees, you maneuvered between the tiny space you created, squeezing your arms, shoulders, and ribcage between them until the tension finally gave way at your waist. Breathing out in relief, your fingertips finally managed to grace the pot’s edge, pulling it into your grasp.

“Got . . . cha . . !”

You tried to shuffle backward, but you couldn’t. Attempting once more, you would come to realize that the dresser and the wall had some sort of death grip on your hips, rooting you in place. You were stuck. Trapped. And Nagi wouldn’t be home for another 30 minu—

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

You breathed, overjoyed at your boyfriend’s sudden voice. He always had the habit of moving in complete silence, despite his massive size. You hadn’t even heard him come home.

“Sei, oh, thank god! C-Can you pull me out? I think I’m stuck!”

You could barely make out the sound of his soft footsteps padding against the wooden floor as he made his way over to you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he stood behind you, yet he made no effort to save you just yet.

“How did you even manage to do something like this?”

His confused tone held an unamused lilt, one that made your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I was cleaning the dresser, and I accidentally knocked Choki over. They’re fine! B-But I can’t get out . . .”

Still nothing.

Was he mad? Disappointed? Since you could not see him, you could not tell. You were aware, though, that his gaze was "burning" into you. You shifted, partially in discomfort, as you made a point to wiggle your hips so that he could focus on the task at hand. As a result, you could hear him drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. Before you could ask him what he was doing, you felt him kneel behind you. His two strong hands came into contact with the exposed skin around your hips, where your shirt was rising. He did not pull, though. The opposite happened; you felt him pressing against you, his bulge delightfully nestling against your folds through your thin pajama shorts.

“Seishiro?!”

He effectively silenced your confused warble in exchange for a surprised squeal when his open palm placed a firm smack on one of your cheeks. All the while, he shamelessly ground himself against your core, stating, “That was for Choki." You swore that you could hear the pout in his voice when he spoke.

“Removing you would be a hassle. Besides, I’m tired.”

B-But what about me?!

You wanted to protest, however, you refrained. You felt his lithe fingers pinch the fabric just over your clit as he pulled it to the side, resting it against your ass and exposing your pretty folds to his prying eyes. You heard his hands rustling with his sweatpants and boxers before you felt him tapping the pretty pink-flushed tip of his cock, which you loved so much, against your sensitive bud causing you to keen and your toes to curl.

“Wish you could see how pretty you look right now.” He mumbled, teasingly pressing the head of his cock against your entrance a few times, but never pushing in fully.

“I-If you got me out, Sei, then maybe I could . .” Your voice was unsteady as your anticipation began to build in the form of your puffy folds beginning to leak for him, the lewd sounds of it squelching around his tip echoing in your quiet room.

He answered you with silence and actions rather than with words. In one swift motion, he pushed entirely into you, and without waiting for you to adjust, he began to thrust his hips into you at a steady pace. You clenched around him, nails scratching against the backboard of the dresser, the wall, the floor—anything to brace yourself from your boyfriend’s fervent pace. Once he got started, he wouldn’t stop until he spilled entirely inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum.

“S-Sei, it’s too much!” You mewled, yet your body writhed with pleasure. You always said this, and yet, he knew you could take it. You've done it many times before. That’s why he reached further into the space you had created to bunch up the back of your his shirt and used it as leverage as though he were pulling your hair to pummel into you faster and deeper. Your ass rhythmically pounded on his pelvis, sending a lewd ringing through your own ears as it echoed off the bedroom walls. Something about this precarious situation you were in mixed with the feeling of Seishiro’s cock hitting those sweet spots inside of you, enthralled you more than usual. You were close and he could feel it.

“Gonna cum f’me, already?” He grunted as his other hands squeezed your hip, their blunt nails digging into your flesh. His moans were heavenly, a sound you longed to hear, as your walls fluttered around him. The hand that was on your hip pressed itself against the edge of the dresser, shoving it effortlessly to the side and thus freeing you from your confines. Although he appeared so unsuspecting, Seishiro’s strength, when he decided to use it, was frightening. Your lower half fell to the ground, your breasts and cheek smushing against the wooden floors as you felt his soft fingertips rubbing fast, furious circles around your clit.

“Oh my god, S-Sei, I-I’m gonna—”

“C’mon, make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did exactly that, creaming delightfully around his cock while mewing in ecstasy. Before long, you could feel Sei's hot seed bursting inside of you and filling up your pretty pussy to the brim, as well as his hips stuttering against you. Both of you were panting as he pulled out of you, your releases dribbling out of you and pooling beneath you onto the floor.

You finally managed to get off your sore knees and elbows as you turned to face your lover with trembling limbs. It was at this point that you noticed Seishiro's eyes, which were burning with something fierce and unknown, were boring into your own. His eyes resembled that hungry expression he would have when his ego started to rule him on the field.

“Let’s do it again, Y/N. On the bed this time.”

God, he was going to be the death of you someday.

SHIDOU RYUSEI.

You had a rather eventful day. Starting off leisurely in the morning, you and your boyfriend Ryusei enjoyed a pleasant brunch together before deciding to head out to the beach that day. You had to pick a spot with some privacy because Ryusei insisted he was only there to “freshen up his tan”, which required him to be in the nude, while you were there to enjoy his prescene, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, and the sensation of sand between your toes. Only a short while ago, the two of you finally arrived home. Ryusei was currently taking his own shower, as you had already finished yours.

Relaxing on the couch in nothing more than an oversized shirt and your panties, you had decided to turn on some Netflix with the intention of finding either a good or a fun-bad horror flick to watch, when all of a sudden, the slippery lotion residue on your hands caused the remote to slip from your grasp and tumble onto the floor and skid beneath the coffee table. You groaned, head tossing back with exasperation, as this minor inconvenience was nearly enough to ruin your entire night and make you not even want to watch a movie anymore. Nonetheless, you sulked off the couch and sank to your knees, searching for the offending culprit beneath the coffee table. Somehow, it had managed to slide to the other side of the room, mocking you as it lay motionless between the walkway in the middle of the coffee table and the television. Any normal person would’ve simply gotten up and walked around the table to retrieve it, however, you were not like most people. I mean, look at your taste in men, for starters. Not to mention, you’re incredibly stubborn.

Instead, you crept beneath the table's glass top and between the second shelf, stretching your slender fingers as far as they could reach until they touched the black exterior of the remote. However, it was a little too far away for you to grasp, and your touch, combined with your wooden floors, only served to push it further away from you. You swore, glaring at the thing as though it had just offended your loved one, huffing in defeat as you decided to rise and walk to the remote.

But you couldn’t.

Your brow furrowed in perplexity as you placed one palm flat on the ground and the other on the surface beneath you, attempting but failing to push yourself back. You were wedged between the table's glass top and bottom shelves, flat on your chest. The more you wiggled, the further you seemed to wedge yourself in between the two surfaces that held you taut.

You stopped, dumbfounded. As much as you dreaded calling Ryusei for help because you knew he would taunt you endlessly instead of helping you . . . you did not have many other options.

“Ah, Ryu!!” Your voice carried through the hallways, hoping that he was out of the shower to hear you yell.

“. . . Yeah, babe?”

His voice made your heart lurch in your chest. You were already debating whether you should just say nevermind and try to wiggle out on your own, or put your pride aside and ask for his assistance. In the end, the latter would be victorious.

“Could . . . Could you come here for a second? . . . Please.” Your plea was quiet, your cheeks already burning with shame as you awaited your impending doom.

You raised your gaze towards the master bedroom, where he was currently. How cruel fate was to put you in a position where you would be forced to watch him approach. Each second felt like an eternity until you heard the soft padding of Shidou's feet leaving the carpeted bedroom to shuffle along the wooden floors, only to abruptly pause.

Sheepishly, you peeked up at him through your lashes to where he stood, chest bare, droplets of water dripping from his unstyled hair and body, a towel that he used for his hair wrapped around his shoulders, and a towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist. His face was expressionless, his fuchsia oculars taking in the scene before them in silence. Your shy, embarrassed gaze, the position of you between the coffee table, and the cursed remote only inches away from his own feet.

“—You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

How you wished you were facing the other way to avoid seeing the way that maniacal grin that nearly resembled the Joker's formed on his face and how his cat-like eyes narrowed at you in amusement at your misfortune.

“ . . Yes.”

He barked out a laugh at you, his head tossed back in sheer, unabashed mania, much to your chagrin. Even though you knew this would happen, your cheeks couldn’t help but burn with frustration and shame. “I know, very funny. Now, could you help me out here, please? My knees are getting sore.”

Despite your whines, his mockery would continue, his large hands grasping both ends of the towel that rested on his shoulders as he waltzed over to you leisurely. “Hmm, I dunno, babe~.” He continued walking until he crouched right before you, his legs spread wide enough for you to see that he was already semi-hard beneath the fabric. Of course, he would be aroused by your misfortune. Tearing your gaze away from his manhood, which was only inches away from your face, you peered up at him only to see him grinning mercilessly down at you with mischief twinkling in his eye. “I gotta admit, I like this view of you. How’d ya know doggy was my favorite position~?”

Probably because you’ve put me in it multiple times before, asshole. You wouldn’t say that, though. You didn’t want to prolong your torment any further.

“Ryuseii.” You whined, mustering your best pitiful glance in an attempt to draw even an ounce of sympathy from your demon of a lover. “Please?” You tried with a pout.

You couldn’t tell if your attempt worked, however, with the way Ryusei’s feral grin would reduce to a playful smirk, you figured that you have gotten through to him. He raised his hand, patting your head twice and making sure to tousle your hair while he was at it. “I’ll see what I can do, cutie.”

He made a move to rise to his feet but paused mid-squat, “No promises, though.”

You waited until he was out of your view to roll your eyes at him, hands bracing themselves against the floor as you awaited to be freed from this nightmare. Ryusei sank to his knees behind you, humming aloud as though he were trying to make a big play out of figuring out how to get you out—or how you got there to begin with. His slender digits grasped at your waist, tugging halfheartedly. You knew better than anyone that Ryusei was capable of hoisting you into the air and tossing you around as though you were nothing. That being said, it was beyond obvious to you that he was obviously making a poor attempt on purpose.

“Wow, I dunno, Y/N. You see pre-tty wedged in here . . Maybe this’ll help.”

You had no idea when he had the opportunity to do it, but he had dropped his towel somewhere along the way, and you could feel him rubbing his semi-hard on against your panty-clad ass and making your clothed folds the focal point of attack.

“Ryusei—!” In frustration and arousal, you laboriously dragged out the syllables of his name. As much as you wanted to be mad at him, you knew that something like this was coming.

“Mm, yeah, keep saying my name just like that, baby.” He sighed blissfully, shamelessly now humping himself onto you until he was full mast, his hardened shaft twitching excitedly between your pillowy ass cheeks while his blushed tip beaded with pre. “Hah, shit, that’s it. ‘Could cum right now, all over ya’. You want that, angel? Want me to paint this pretty ass—” He paused, raising his palm high into the air before bringing it down unforgivingly against your rear to accentuate his point. “Look at that. Ya want me to paint this pretty ass with my nut, hm?”

"Yes, please, Ryu . . ?" You said against your better judgment as your thighs pressed against one another and your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

He chuckled throatily, already pulling your panties down your plump thighs until they rested on the backs of your knees. He lined himself up with your already drooling cunt, not wasting any time to push into you with one single thrust. He bottomed out inside of you, drawing all of the breath from your lungs. His pelvis pressed flush against you, blunt nails biting into the flesh of your hips and ass as he greedily pulled you against him. It was almost as if he were trying to force himself further into you than he already could. You whimpered beneath your breath, clenching around his cock as you felt his balls pulsing against your sensitive clit. He had only just entered you, and already he was about to cum.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy.” He snarled through clenched teeth, picking up his pace. “Grippin’ me so tight, suckin’ me in so good, ngh—s-so desperate to be stuffed with a cock.”

His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but he did everything he could to keep bullying his cock into you, drool dribbling over his parted lips. It should be illegal for you to feel this good. It wasn't fair. He wanted to ravish you—take his time turning your cunt into his personal little pocket pussy, his perfect fucktoy, already premolded to the shape of his dick. But damn, he was about to bust, and you were approaching your climax too.

His pace grew relentless, barely giving you time to breathe or even think as he forced your hips to fuck back onto him, drawing a helpless gasp or delighted moan from your pretty lips with each impassioned thrust. You squirmed in his hold, your breath coming out in hot tufts as your end grew near.

“R-Ryu, baby, hah, mphf!!” You could barely get the words out as he fucked you within an inch of your life. “I-I’m close! M-My clit, please! I c-can’t reach it; touch me, plea—”

“No.”

His response was curt—simple, snarled out in what could only be described as a ferocious growl. His movements grew sloppier, his hips faltering in their pace as his cock throbbed heartily inside of you, ready to burst. “You cum on my, ngh, fuckin’ cock or not at all. Ya hear me, y’little cock-lovin’ slut?”

You whined in protest, to which the forward brought his palm down heavily on your already reddening cheeks from just his grip on you alone. If he could’ve reached you, he would’ve had a vice grip on your hair by now. “Answer me, bitch.” He spat with false malice, “Y’gunna cream around my cock? Make this fat dick a mess, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Came your loud, unabashed chorus of unfiltered, unadulterated moans of sheer bliss.

Neither of you could hold back anymore. Ryusei spilled rope after rope of his hot, sticky seed into your abused cunt while your pretty folds creamed around his shaft in a way that could only be described as tantalizing. Silence, aside from both of your spent keens and blissed panting, filled the air around you. Once he was certain you were plugged full with his cum, Ryusei effortlessly snatched your body from between the coffee table, causing your exhausted body to collapse into his lap. As exhausted as he was, he made sure to cup your head so that it didn’t hit the ground too hard. He was always the sweetest when his post-nut clarity hit him. He took in your expression, noticing that your eyes were half-lidded and glassy with fat tears spilling from your waterline; your drool-covered lips were plump, red, and raw with the faintest of indentations along them from your pearly teeth; and your body convulsed and twitched ever so slightly from the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Not to mention the utterly fucked-out and euphoric look on your face.

. . . Ah, shit. He was hard again.

“Still with me, princess? . . Good. Come suck this cock clean and let me ruin that pretty face of yours even more~.♡”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

You've been writing to inmates in prison for almost two years now and have helped many feel more at ease with their current situations and possible futures. So it should come to no surprise when the warden of the most notorious prison seeks out your help with a difficult inmate they can hardly contain. The task proves difficult after you receive your first letter back from Bakugou Katsuki. More infamously known as Ground Zero, and you're not so sure you can help a man this far gone.

wc 6.8k warnings: dunno but he's mean and a villain so read at your own risk. MDNI 18+ content

Congratulations!

You've been selected for a special project due to your credentials with previous inmates. Letters exchanged between you and other inmates have had a positive effect on their rehabilitation which is one step closer to getting them assimilated back to the normalcy of society. 

We ask that you help us by reaching out to inmate B-001174 Bakugou, Katsuki. He has not had mail correspondence nor a visitor due to his self isolation since his incarceration. We are hoping that a letter from the most well received correspondent begins to pave the way for a brighter future for B-001174. Please see the below instructions on what topics to avoid for inmate B-001174

Family members of any relation to inmate

Previous crimes by inmate or inmate's affiliates. 

Current crimes by inmate's affiliates or any such nature of crime 

Current events of any kind including natural disasters, diseases, political elections or anything of relation. 

Current hero rankings, change of status or death of any hero since incarceration December 18th 2XXX

Any mention of hero(es) who captured inmate listed as follows : Aizawa, Shouta - Eraserhead, Todoroki, Enji - Endeavor, Toshinori, Yagi - Allmight, Usagiyama, Rumi - Mirko 

Current known affiliates are listed as follows : Kirishima, Eijirou, Midoriya, Izuku, Shigaraki, Tomura and Todoroki, Touya. 

We appreciate your efforts in brightening the dull lives of inmates and hope you pick up your pen and do what you do best, change lives for the better! Please see the following attachments for instructions on how to address the letter and seal inside the pre-paid postage envelope before dropping it off at any post office.

Remember each letter will be opened and read for any sort of criminal activity before being passed along to the inmate. 

Sincerely, 

Warden of Tartarus Maximum Prison Facility

You flip the letter over and skim the instructions, the same as they always are expect this time there is an extra line to add, maximum security level ten, as if you had to notate some sort of alert to the mailroom for an extra thorough check of this particular piece of mail. You bite the inside of your lip, toeing off your kitten heels before padding over to your computer with letter in tow.  

The request comes as a surprise, mostly because they listed a specific inmate instead of your usual list of inmates who wished to receive mail but had ties cut from their own families or needed some semblance of someone on the outside to speak with. Never asking you to address some sort of conversation with someone who sounded like they didn't want to have one at all. 

Snarling your lip when you read the affiliates that you needed to avoid as if their government names gave you any idea of who they were, some of them anyway. 

Two with whom you were already exchanging letters with weekly. 

Your usual routine to wind down from work is lost to your undying hunger of who this person was. Although you had to admit Bakugou sounded eerily familiar. 

A quick search brings up his villain name,  Ground Zero, captured during a raid of some sort and he alone needed several heroes for his capture. His quirk was dangerous, explosions detonated by sparks along his forearms and palms from his sweat that contained nitroglycerin and it seemed as if his mental health was just as stable as the fuel to his quirk. 

Looking at him wrong set him off and he was powerful enough to level buildings from just a few juls of output from his intense explosions. Still curiosity killed the cat and you delved deeper. 

Wondering how Izuku, aka Deku, who was quirkless and Eijirou, aka Blood Riot who could harden his skin, which you knew from their letters, got caught up with a living, breathing nuke. 

Thankfully most of the documentation and footage involving Katsuki's arrest was released to the public with redactions and edits of course but what you needed was the raw data. 

Finding unofficially released footage from Mirko's body cam, the only surviving body cam between the pursuing heroes. It starts right in the midst of the action, sirens wailing  and people screaming in the background as the scene unfolds. Ground Zero and Mirko exchange blows evenly while Endevor tries to ambush him from behind. The hulking blonde smirks, as if he had no blind spot, swinging his large arm backward hitting Endeavor right in the mouth, hard enough it sends him flying.  Katsuki's bromine eyes flicker to what must be vantage points off camera as if searching for something. 

"Got that pesky ass four eyes on me huh? I'm hurt ya don't wanna play with me properly, hops." He dodges a kick to the chest, sliding back and it's obvious his prowess as a fighter is unmatched, even with his quirk silenced.

"Shut the fuck up. Ya talk too much."  Shifting her weight to fein a kick that he catches, pinning her thick leg between his sturdy ribs and strong arm as he wears the nastiest smile. One that Mirko wipes off quickly with a swift kick from her free foot straight to his handsome face. Turning his cheek and blood arcs from his mouth, still he does not stagger nor falter. 

He even still has her leg pinned as she stands awkwardly, back arched to him and her bunny tail twitches. The viewer can only see the ground and her free leg but the mic still very much catches what he says next and you're sure the smile he was wearing earlier comes back tenfold. 

"Careful hops, ya get any rougher with me and I'll cum." 

His laugh echoes shortly after and the sound should not cause your stomach to flip the way it does before the footage abruptly ends. 

Taking the time to scroll through a few more pictures and articles, trying to find where it all went wrong when really none of that was your business, still it killed you to know. 

And when you fail to find anything, fail to find that butterfly effect that puts his whole life askew, it does little to quell the uneasy feeling that gnaws at the pit of your stomach. If anything it fuels it yet still you rummage your desk for stationary and a pen. 

Sealing away the envelope once you were done and setting it by your purse to grab in the morning when you think you'll be braver. 

Or maybe less brave as you hesitate by the mail drop off box, your train fast approaching the outside terminal before you shove it into the slot quickly. 

Too late to take it back now. 

Besides what were the odds he'd even send one back?

"B-001174, got mail." The guard grunts as he slips the already open letter under the cell door, finishing his rounds before the doors would open and the inmates could roam about the pod as they saw fit. 

Katsuki snarls, he didn't get mail, letters or pictures or even the cult following he once had he'd scared 'em all off. Tired of all the stupid bullshit they spewed at him, the ideals they placed on him or the words they shoved into his mouth. Worst yet were how they justified their actions, their own wrong doings in the name of Ground Zero, too pussy to even own up to their own actions. Katsuki hated that as much as he hated liars. 

Besides he didn't ask for all that shit, didn't care. He just wanted to watch the world burn. 

Wanted to set it on fire and Katsuki's philosophy was that anything was kindling. 

That everything is kindling. 

And he thinks he should just ignite the smallest spark despite the quirk "silencing" cuffs and let the letter be devoured by the heat of his palms. 

But the return address catches his eye, the name does. It's familiar in a way he can't quite place yet. Pulling the paper out of the envelope in the meantime. The first thing he notices is the faint almost perfumey smell of coconut from the paper, not from spraying the stationary but as if it were lotion rubbing across the parchment as you wrote in long looping letters, for a moment he finds the smell pleasant. His poisonous bromine eyes slide over the letter with ease. 

Dear Bakugou, 

I heard you don't get letters very often, if any, so I hope this one finds you well. The weather is warming up quickly, the cicadas are starting to scream even though it's barely June, we'll all be sweltering come August. Summer is my favorite season, do you have a favorite? Work slows down around this time and they usually grant us extra leave so we can enjoy the weather, which is quite nice. I hope you're getting to enjoy the sun as well. 

I know cooking is one of your favorite things, I can see why. It can be relaxing or make you feel good to nourish someone else. What other hobbies do you have aside from cooking? Any favorite books or authors? Maybe I can send your favorite one in! Just let me know. 

Do you have everything you need? Do you need any money for commissary? Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all, I'm only a letter away. 

Hope to hear from you and maybe soon I can call you Katsuki. 

Much Love

He snorts as he reads the last line and it finally dawns on him from where he knows your name. Lifting himself out of his prison cot with ease, the cheap thing groaning from his bulk as he exits his cell. Heading towards the neighboring cell that holds Deku and Riot, shoving his way into the too cramped space for the bulking men. 

"Ka-kaachan!" Izuku chirps, surprised to see the hot headed blonde out of his cell and especially surprised to see Bakugou in his own. Lingering by Izuku's half with a quirked brow, his eyes roaming until they found the hidden stack of papers. 

"Gonna grab breakfast with us?" Kirishima asks as he watches large hands snatch at the pile. Instantly Izuku stands, eyes darkening as he steps towards Katsuki.

"Put those down, Kaachan." It's that fake polite smile Izuku wears before a fight, the kind that never reaches his eyes and Bakugou doesn't heed the warning, "Please."

It's clipped and now Kirishima thinks to rise, doesn't want either of them to do solitary or to deal with the month long bickering if they do get into a physical fight. 

Katsuki looks over the letters, reading them quickly and appreciating that Izuku is meticulous enough to keep them in chronological order, each one signed off the same way. Much love. 

Such bullshit. 

Izuku shoves Bakugou when he still scowls down at the papers that also smell like coconut. Katsuki drops the letters unceremoniously and Izuku scrambles to keep them from hitting the concrete floor. Bakugou already on Kirishima's side who watches with a confused glare. 

"What are you-" But Kirishima doesn't get to say much else as Katsuki lifts the thin mattress from the metal frame to find the hidden letters. Tucked away safely as if the battle worn villain took comfort in the false words in shiny black ink. 

Same return address, same name, same bull shit sign off. 

"Katsuki!" Kirishima shoves him and the blonde hardly moves, Eijirou's skin half hardening out of habit before he tries to shove again. Katsuki hits his forearm harshly, a soft pop in warning although neither could do too much with the amount of sedation and silencing that came from the collar from around their thick throats. Izuku sans silencing cuffs, has no worries about a part of him being dulled. He was built like an ox with the metabolism of a pubescent teen despite being in his late twenties so sedatives or mood stabilizers hardly have any effect. 

Bakugou tosses the letters onto Kirishima's scratchy blanket before he scoffs. 

"Tsk, believe that bullshit?" He's rolling his eyes as he leaves the cell with nothing but the rustle of paper as they try to rehide what they act like is their dirty little secret. 

God weak hearted fools were so fucking annoying. 

Post through the prison system could take some time, especially when it came to newer exchanges. It could be anywhere between two weeks to two months before you saw a reply from Katsuki. If you got one at all. 

But the thought of his phantom reply slips to the back of your head what with your current workload and the other correspondents so when you see a sealed envelope the prison's return address you think nothing of it. 

Not until you open it to see an open envelope with your address but instead of your name is spelled out Fake Bitch. 

Blinking furiously you pull out the letter, unfolding it quickly to let your eyes scan over the page, each word burning into your retinas.

Piece of shit, 

Such a pathetic fuckin slut, writing any and every desperate man behind bars you think is hot, hopin you'll get a conjugal visit. Already fucked everyone at surface level ya gotta try prison dick? 

Or is it worst than that?  Mommy and daddy didn't love ya enough? Didn't give ya enough attention so you look for it in anyone that'll give ya the time of day? Prey on those with no one to talk to knowing you'd get a reply out of desperation. 

Lickin knives all ya know sweetheart? Pretty fuckin scummy if ya ask me. 

Fuck off and die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

Now you've received your fair share of mean and asshole letters but this? This was different. 

This felt personal. 

It was rule number one you'd given yourself when you were asked to start penning letters while in a shitty place yourself. 

And yet here you were breaking it for some asshat who thought the cityscape was his to destroy. 

Heart ringing in your ears as you try to calm yourself, counting your breaths until you finally could see straight. Penning up something simple yet effective telling yourself that even if he didn't reply it didn't matter. 

You drop it into the mail the next day, two weeks later the same guard is slipping another opened letter under Bakugou's cell door. A snarl to his lip, he didn't expect you to reply and if he was being honest he may have forgotten about you, still the envelope was addressed to his inmate number and no longer is his name written in your cute script. 

While you may think you know everything there is to know about life and me, I'd like to point out your position over mine. 

Last I checked I'm not miles and miles in the ground, under heavy security, among other things a civilian wouldn't be privy to. However I will put it into lame man's terms as it seems your cognitive abilities have declined. 

I'm not the one behind bars, asshole. 

Much Hate

Bakugou clicks his tongue, he was used to the insult, wore it proudly most days but he knew his first letter would go one of two ways.

One, you'd cry when you read it and never replied to him again, which was his hope or two there was a very slim chance he'd get under your skin enough you'd feel the innate need to respond and defend yourself. 

Bakugou does what he does best and burrows further under your pretty skin twirling the pen he finds in the library with ease as he takes to writing out a delicious reply. 

Mail from Tartarus normally came on Wednesday or Thursday as if someone at the facility always forgot to send it out at the beginning of the week. So it became a part of your routine to check your PO Box you set up in a prefecture over in order to preserve your safety should something ever go awry with any of your pen pals or to receive online purchases. Mail day used to be a day you looked forward to, something to help you get through the remainder of your work week but today it was a day you dreaded. 

The excitement from seeing the others' responses in the mail is overshadowed by one particular envelope that slips out of the Manila folder that all of the letters to the same correspondent were sent in to save postage. 

You should be reading Touya's letter or hell anyone else's for that matter, yet here you stood, going for that obnoxious scrawl as he still refused to spell out your name and instead gave you some horrible insult. 

Pathetic Slut

If lying to yourself by writing half ass disingenuine letters to prisoners out of pity makes ya feel like yer changing the world then by all fucking means write away sweetheart. 

Just don't be surprised when you get an asshole response from an asshole behind bars. 

Cause we both know that's what you think of all of us don'tchya? 

Die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

It shouldn't bother you, it shouldn't burrow so deep into your skin that his inky words scratch at your bones. Like his fingers could dig around in the marrow like maggots yet still it makes your cheeks heat. Makes your eyes burn from frustration and lack of blinking as your palms sweat. 

Soles of your feet burning as you walk further into your apartment to rummage through the drawers of your desk.  Uncaring how things topple over as you furiously grab for a permanent marker, pens and books scattering over the hardwood floors. 

Heart pounding as it resounds through your body like metal striking a bell. Each beat faster, harder than the last until you think your vision starts to ehb at the edges from how much hatred burns away at any of the kindness you built up over the last decade. 

Snapping the marker in half by the time you're done writing your final letter to the asshole. 

FUCK 

YOU 

You don't read it, don't care if it makes it past screening and he never sees it at all. Shoving it into one of your personal envelopes on your desk slapping on a floral postage stamp before stomping down to the express box that sat just outside of your apartment complex. 

It takes a full week for you to calm down, another week to stop thinking about it daily, and one more week to even reply to the letters you got almost a month ago. 

An email comes in from the post office, alerting you to something being placed in your box. You hope it's the new sun dress you bought as retail therapy after a long week and an even bigger bottle of booze that you'd drained. Spending quite a pretty penny on something you didn't even really have an occasion to wear it to. 

More like a nice date, the type of dress you could dress up or down depending on what sorts of accessories you paired with it. 

Taking the train three stops past your own to head into the post office. Turning the key to your decent sized box finding within the metal your promised package. 

And on top of that a familiar manila folder with the return address to Tartarus. 

You grit your teeth, holding onto the mail harder than you should as you take those three long stops back home. Swallowing thickly as you climb your steps, the folder and plastic bag package punctured from your sharp nails as you quickly press in your seven digit key code to get into your apartment and out of the sweltering mid August air.

When your door shuts it closed off the sound of the screaming cicadas and the few crickets that lie in the green space beside your apartment as you try to force yourself to follow your nightly routine. 

Remove shoes, take off makeup, eat, shower, sleep. 

But that damn folder was burning a hole into your fingers as you go to your desk, rocking your chair side to side before you just rip it open like you'd rip off a bandaid. 

This time the letter addresses you in a new way. 

Sweetheart, 

I dare you to come say that shit to my face. You fuckin better show up Saturday other wise I'll let your precious Izu and Eiji know just how much of a fake bitch ya really are. Imagine what it would do to them? Break their hearts I'm sure.  

Ya'd hate to mess with their progress wouldn't ya? 

Don't forget to wear something cute, it'd be nice to see some fat tits in my face at the very least. If a shitty woman like you even owns anything relatively sexy.

Fuck off 

Bakugou Katsuki 

You see red, breathing deeply as you re-read the letter again, who the fuck was this asshole? Black mailing you into visiting him so it wouldn't hurt your other correspondents because Bakugou was so fucking selfish. 

So black out angry you don't seem to wake up, not when you put yourself in that sleek summer sun dress that went to your mid thigh, not when you stare at your angry scowl as you apply light make up, and especially not on the hour drive and then two hour ferry ride to Tartarus. Especially not during the twenty minute descent in a cramped elevator box with a guard in front and behind you with AKs clipped to their chests, the sweltering heat seeping down this low in the ground due to body heat and poor ventilation of the prison. 

Not until the buzzer of the barred door in front of you screams its demands, that the handle was "live" and could be opened by the guard standing in the cage between the hallway that led back to freedom and the other where you could already see toxic bromine burning into your skin. 

This was a bad idea. This was a really fucking bad idea.  

You swallow thickly, it was too late to turn back now wasn't it? The door had already swung shut as the guard came closer to you for one final inspection.

"Dress is kinda short." Katsuki can overhear the guard mumble to you, can see how the guard's fingers twitch and for some reason his own do too. He watches how the guard lingers, how the man's hand press against your body and bunches up your dress as he pats you down a little too roughly. How you bite your lip when the man squeezes your ribs and under the weight of your breasts a little too roughly. 

Katsuki is starting to see red, sweat begins to collect on his brow. He hasn't even fully seen you at least not without an obstructed view but already he can tell he likes what he sees. 

Likes how the dress clings to parts of you you'd favor, the parts you want to really highlight. How the hem flusters higher with each step of your strappy flat shoes.

Loves the scowl that pinches up your cute face when the door buzzes to allow you into the room with him and another six guards. Likes how you straighten your spine as if you've gotten fresh resolve when you come in. 

Looking at him like he was trash and he smirks, like how you don't recoil from him despite how he looks now.  

Plexiglass spit guard with metal framing afixed to his face to keep more than his salvia to himself, more so to keep his gnashing teeth away from people's skin. How his throat is encircled with a thick black collar with a red light set far past stun and closer to kill that would send an electric pulse if he misbehaved but only if they could reach their remote fast enough. 

How the silver cuffs around his thick wrists chain him to the table top, thick forearms exposed from him rolling up his bright orange suit that was harsh on the eyes thanks to the flickering fluorescent lighting overhead. Soft ash blonde hair messy at the top with a self given undercut beneath, iris so bloody red it was as if he was born straight from the calf of Ares himself. 

"Hey Sweetheart." He purrs and his voice is pure sin. 

Pure fucking sin. 

Sending a jolt straight to your clit as his pretty lips curl up into a deadly smirk, showing his sharp canines. 

Bakugou can't contain the feeling of triumph that dances in his veins, purposely egging you on in his letter with the closest Saturday knowing you'd be allowed to come on such short notice. See, most visitors needed to have thorough background checks and intensive mental testing before coming to meet anyone in maximum security five hundred meters below sea level. 

But the conniving blonde knew you were special. 

Knew the warden of Tartarus favored you and would allow you to skip these precautions, especially after what that dumbass thinks you've done. In less than a month of writing to him, that damn Deku finally added Inko-san back to his visiting list, actually came to the visit and cupped her hands. Murmuring on and on that her baby boy with the wavy emerald curls was okay. Inko cried and returned every month since.

No different for Kirishima either, adding Fat Gum, who was like a father figure to him during their shared time at UA, to his visitor list. Surprisingly Taishiro came, still comes, him and Inko car pool together. 

Not even a few heartbeats pass between the two of you before you feel your tongue slicing up the sensitive skin of the roof of your mouth. Of the hard bone of your teeth. 

"Fuck. You." The words drip with sticky poison that even one of the guards behind him flinches but not Bakugou. 

No never Bakugou Katsuki, the Ground Zero himself who leveled a city for the fucking fun of it 

He smiles, both sides of his mouth curling up and it should be disturbing how much he obviously gets off on your frustration, on your hate. But it isn't, it's almost mesmerizing how he looks at you. Like you're something to triumph and conquer, something he wants to keep for himself. 

With that you turn to leave, skirt fluttering from the movement and Katsuki can see the tattoo on your upper thigh, the ink making his mouth salivate as he wonders if he can find any more you've got hidden on that fine body. 

He lunges despite the rattling chains that keep him close to the table, still he has enough leeway to grab onto your arm in one giant hand. Foolishly you try to pull free. 

"Oh come on sweetheart. I've got a whole hour of play time for this. Yer not leaving, sit down." 

His grip on you is tight, his hand big enough to engulf half of your forearm and it gets tighter still. Hot palm making your bones creak from the pressure as he smiles up at you cruelly. All you can do is glare down at him, bore all of your hate where the two of you are connected, his skin feels electric against yours. 

"Ya know, I could probably still blow your arm off." He doesn't bother to say it quietly, chuckles when you look at the quirk silencing cuffs and collar he dons, "They ain't shit against strong quirks." 

Your eyes flash, anger spiking your blood and stupidly you strike. Hand stinging as badly as the tears that come to your eyes and threaten to fall past your lash line. Clawed fingers met with the metal framing of the glass spit guard mask that covers his mouth. Still one of your claws cuts his cheeks and he howls with laughter. 

"Like I said-" He yanks you down harshly, playful tone from his voice gone as your ribs smack into the edge of the metal table, puffs of hot breath fogging the glass of his spit guard, "Sit." 

The awkward angle forces your knees to bend, settling on to the cold metal stool while his warm fingers leave blossoms of black and blue on the skin. As if returning the favor for the cut. 

"I can feel your heart pounding princess,yer pussy throbin this hard too?" He licks his lips, laughs when you lean away from him in disgust, "Ya like it. All sluts play hard to get at first." 

Your eyes flicker to the guards behind him, all six pretend not to notice, panic shoots through your veins and the realization of just how bad of a fucking idea this was settles over you harshly. Like ice water flowing from the nape of your neck.  

He follows your gaze, even cranes his head like he didn't know who was behind him and exactly where they stood. 

"Oh them? They ain't gonna do shit. They're too scared of me. Blew a guy's head off last week." He smiles and one of the guards suddenly finds the floor interesting, "Do ya know how drugged up I am right now baby? How much force these cuffs have to use to bring my quirk down to half power?" 

Choosing not to respond you let your eyes fall back on his handsome face watching it snarl as you ignore him. 

Oh he'd make you see him. 

"What cat got yer tongue now ya scared cause I'm so strong? Invincible?" Your eyes narrow as he speaks the arrogance of this man is far beyond your comprehension. 

"You bleed like every other man." He loves the way you speak, how you wield that sharp tongue. How he wants it pressed and slashing over his own as he's two fingers deep into your tight cunt, moaning into his mouth. 

He brings the thick digits of his free hand parting gift you bestowed upon him. The long thin slash as rough pads bring smeared blood into view so he can lick away the dark red beads. 

"Bloody men are usually the most dangerous, you never know if it's his or that of another's." He lets his hot thumb roll over the cut, cauterizing the small wound hoping it scars. 

Eyes widening as he blatantly uses his quirk as if there weren't armed guards behind him. You're watching his eyes closely as he does and finally you realize what he said is true. There is a dullness to them that was lacking in the raw footage you saw all those months ago. 

Then his eyes were vibrant, sharp and slicing, much more intense then the hazy glare he gives you now. It didn't make him any less of an apex predator. 

Still watching you, recording your small movements and committing your soft skin to his memory as he studies you. 

"Got a quirk?" He grunts out after a moment, after he collects whatever information he was looking for, "I wanna guess first. Manipulation?" 

He smirks at his own joke and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore how his thumb swipes at the underside of your forearm idly. How the motion twists your stomach violently with dizzying emotions. 

Rolling your eyes before you scoff an answer, "No. Besides you expect me to manipulate through what? Ink?" 

"Ya never know. Went to school with some asshole whose quirk was comic book sound effects." He leans back never letting go but now his hand is around your wrist. His fingers twitch when he looks at yours, fights the urge to roughly lace them with his own. 

"Well I don't. Manipulate I mean." You adjust in your seat, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, "And I won't disclose whether I have a quirk or not." 

"Haaah? Worried I'll like it?" When you don't answer he adds, "Is it compatible with mine?" 

Slowly blinking at him trying not to read into what you think he means. He groans at your silence, the higher dosage of his morning meds finally catching up making him a little lethargic. Taking his edge off when all he wants to do is rise over the crashing wave of the pending high he can barely keep at bay and whisk you out of the depths of hell the two of you currently sit in. 

"So then what? You just used regular words to manipulate them?" He fights back a yawn. 

"Who?" Your ribs still ache from his actions earlier, it doesn't warn you like it should. 

"Don't play fuckin stupid, Sweetheart." He's lurching into your space again, hand moving back over your bruise. It makes your stomach clench when it shouldn't, especially not as the chains rattle against the metal table top, serving as a heavy reminder of the setting of this conversation. 

Still his breath comes in quick puffs as it fogs up the glass again, "Shitty hair. Deku." 

Your brows furrow for a moment, another groan from him. 

"For fucks sake." Light squeeze of your arm as he spits their names, "Fuckin nerdy ass Izuku. Eijirou."

"I can't talk about them." Looking away from his darkened eyes that flash with a fury of emotion.

"Who's stoppin ya? Them?" He tilts his head towards the guards, "I told ya-" 

"B-001174, you have five minutes left for visitation." A voice crackled over an old speaker in the visitation cell, "Please remove your hands from the guest or we will apply force." 

The small light on his collar flashes red and he just smirks, looking up, well above your head. Staring directly at the warden like he knows exactly where he stood behind the two way mirror. 

"Yea? You'll apply force? Go ahead. Nothin but a little shock t' me but t' her? She'll die warden." There is no mirth in his smirk, lips twitching as his eyes are shrouded in dark warning, "And we wouldn't want that would we?" 

The way he speaks sends a chill down your spine, the haze of whatever sedative they had him on is now gone and you're left sitting across from those vibrant radioactive eyes. Burning through the mirror to sear the warden's skin in a threat, a promise. 

A buzz rings out as the seventh guard comes in, he scrunches his nose and it makes his oddly shaped mustache twitch. 

"Miss." He grunts holding out his hand for you to take too close in your personal space for your liking. Slapping it out of your face before following your right arm down to where Katsuki held fast. Peeling off his thick digits with your finely manicured claws. 

He hisses at the loss of contact, glaring at the guard when his hands hover close and the older man is smart enough not to antagonize a literal monster. Katsuki stands suddenly, a scream comes from the bolts securing metal to metal as he rips the table out of the ground, unable to break the chains for now. 

Everyone but Bakugou in the room freezes, guns cocked and aimed at the bulking villain who rose to his full height, sticking his prison issued white shoe onto the seat he just sat on to push down roughly. Thick thigh muscles straining against the fabric of the bright orange pants. A smile to his face when the chains finally snap and he can move his hands more freely before ripping off the plexiglass spit guard letting it clink on to the ground. His large hands run through his hair as if to fix it. 

"I'm entitled to a proper fuckin good bye." He hisses at everyone in the room, they keep their guns aimed at him but make no move to pull any trigger. 

Katsuki stalks closer, a wall of muscle, broad chest and shoulders, slim waist that leads down to powerful legs and you try not to let your breath catch in your throat. 

Try not to let the big bad wolf win by letting him know just how scared you were. Over how impressive it was that he snapped reinforced titanium chains so easily. 

He's well within your arms reach now, so close heat radiates from his chest. 

"I'll see ya soon, Sweetheart." He bids you a final goodbye, waving his fingers that pop with burning caramel explosions. You're not sure why it sets you off, maybe it was the way he wore that stupid smirk on his face, maybe it was the way he demonstrated his power or his dominance in an attempt to intimidate you one last time. 

Maybe it's the way he was arrogant enough to think you'd waste six hours round trip on his ass ever again. 

Either way it makes your temper flair, burrows deep into your subdermis to scarpe at your bones one final time before you unknowingly seal your own fate. Not knowing how his body would react to your parting words. 

"There won't be a next time. I came here for one thing and that was to say fuck you." Delivered with just as much clotting venom as it was before, middle finger held high.

His smirk turns deadly, blowing out a snort as he leans closer as if to share a secret. You can smell the cheap commissary soap that clings to his skin that's starting to lose out to the rapidly building nimbus of smoking caramel that clouds the air as his lips press to your ear.  

"Don't have t'. I'll come to you." He pulls back and winks as you're guided out of the room, glare fixed on him as he stands unbothered. 

He's lying, prisoners lie all the time especially if they think they can get the upper hand. He couldn't come to you. He couldn't escape prison for starters and lastly there was no way in hell he'd ever find out where you lived.  The prison made sure of that by always including a fresh envelope with their own return address in the top left corner, you should know. You only triple checked each time you sealed away the letter, even a fourth time at the post box staring down at the address on the envelope making sure both were correct.

So fuck Bakugou Katsuki for being a dirty liar, fucking hypocrite.

Shoving yourself into an oversized shirt after your body shower you finally get to plop down into bed. Relishing the feel of fresh sheets and blankets as you sigh deeply. It had been a long, long day and no amount of self care could get his toxic blood red eyes out of your head.

Switching on the TV to pull up some show to numb your mind with familiarity when the channel cuts out. Breaking news flashing across the screen makes your body go rigid. 

A prison break from Tartarus has occurred in the late evening hours, several high profile villains are believed to have escaped such as Shigaraki Tomura, Todoroki Touya, aka Dabi, Kirishima Eijirou aka Blood Riot,  Midoriya Izuku aka Deku and Bakugou Katsuki better known as Ground Zero. Please do not approach suspected escapees, please report any suspicious person or activities immediately. Most importantly keep all doors and windows locked at all times. I repeat do not engage with the inmates. 

A knock comes from your left, making you jump out of your skin as you fist the sheets. A cold sweat breaking out over your skin in goose flesh as your hearing rings in your ears. Unable to bring yourself to look at the sliding glass door to your balcony just yet as if you could ignore it and the cause of the sound would simply go away.

Another rapt of knuckles pulls your attention once more before you finally dare to peek to see glowing red eyes peering in. The devil himself at your door and you knew better than to let him in. 

Knew better that a locked door couldn't keep him out. 

Bromine burning in the night like ever fanned flames, orange jumpsuit obnoxiously out of place against the night sky, stained in deep burgundy red and ash grays, the same colors streaking his face before he knocks again. But this time it's in warning, hard enough to rattle the door that you both know he could rip off the track with ease.

"How- how did you?" Teeth chattering that you grit closed still refusing to give in to his tactics until he presses a small envelope against the glass. Your personal envelope with your real home address listed for return. 

Panic bubbles up your throat in a scream that dies at the back of your teeth as you sit frozen a minute longer while he gives a predatory grin, large hands pressing against the glass before his palms glow bright orange. Brighter than his jumpsuit before the glass shatters and your scream finally escapes your lungs. 

In an instant he's towering over you, palms pressing into biting shards as he cages you against the plush comforter dipping his head low so he can nose at your throat, hot palm at your ribs. Leave a searing bite pulling a strangled yelp from your soft lips that makes him laugh before his mouth is at your ear for the second time today. Finally speaking dangerously low.

"Told ya I'd see ya soon, Sweetheart."

┌─ “ ! „ FLUIDITY

tw. dubcon, monsterfucking, explicit size kink, interspecies sex, reader has sex pollen like effects, communication barrier, manipulation, yandere (other parts will contain a lot more explicit dark kinks so please read every individual part's warnings!) wordcount. 8.7k

part 1 of —

a/n. ♡♡ thank you so much rhi for keeping me going through this, idk if i would have pushed through if not for you so ily ily ily and this fic is just indulgence as a period piece and a monsterfucking fic but i hope you give it a chance and like it bc there's moresomes a-coming and this is just the beginning so! yeA i hope you guys enjoy mwuah mwuah mwuah ♡♡

tachibana makoto x fem!reader ( x other characters coming)

Dragonflies glint the prettiest, richest silver you’ve ever seen under the right light. The rosy evening sun casts the entire river into a blooming glow— complete with a soft blanket of fog that rolls along the base of the trees. “Your maiden servants worry about you, you know,” a voice softly calls, and the rustle of shrubbery makes you turn.

You don’t really want to know how long the man’s been guarding you without a word. If it were anyone but one of your father’s most trusted men, you’d probably have some distrust. Instead you only pull your knees to your chest, and continue tossing rocks into the babbling brook.

“Lady, it’ll get dark soon. Your parents don’t want you playing out here so late.”

The small area isn’t open enough to lure any visitors. You’d be fine. Still, you slowly bob your head, waiting for him to step away from the tree edge into the river bank with you. “I had a weird dream, only it didn’t feel like a dream.” The reeds sway in the wind, and you almost let the perfect surrounding whisk away the thought. But the man’s hand drops from his sword, and he gives the faintest of nods. “There was a monster here when I fell asleep— one with a huge mouth packed full of teeth. I saw eyes in the water, and hair so long it covered its whole body.” The tart remnants of your delicately applied makeup wash away as you swallow. “I think- it was a yokai.”

“There’s no yokai here, lady,” he patiently responds, and you turn to him better. This time taking a proper look. If the damp hair tied in a bun is anything to go off of, he was most likely called out of his bath to come out looking for you. You bite your lip, apology lingering on your tongue. But that’s where it stays, as the man continues. “There’s monsters only where people don’t go. You needn’t worry.”

“Are you comforting me?” A slight giggle passes your lips before you can help it. “I know you think I’m lying. You don’t believe anything you don’t see with your own eyes.”

“... It’s not for a lack of trying.” He smooths a hand over his hakama, before resting it back on the pristine handle of his sword. The dragonflies buzz over the low edge of the water, and your feet ache a little from the cold. You’d love to ask to be carried right about now, but spare the poor man the effort. It’s the least you can do. After another few minutes of silence and watching the sun disappear entirely below the tree line, he finally clears his voice. “Come on, lady. We should really get back. You’re precious to your parents. You’re precious to us all. I can’t leave you here.”

This river runs from the high mountains all the way through the small lake that borders the gates of your home; and all the way down the lowlands— and it’s said that on the day of your birth the river flooded, and provided the most bountiful harvest of the last few decades. Even as a child, there was no ignoring the gleeful whispering of the ladies, nor the calculated introductions of sons of poorer lords at every birthday or feast. Some day not too long from now you will get married and spread providence over the land… and there won’t be time for napping by rivers or running off half-dressed into the forest.

Somehow, despite the honor, a small part of you goes cold at that. The water glistens under the last of the light— and you take a long look into the deep of it. The eyes the color of hot coals flash through your mind once more, and you start pulling the fabrics of your dresses aside to put your zori back on. “I know it was a monster- but-” The wind picks up when you turn over your shoulder and smile your most genuine smile. “I wasn’t scared, I think. Perhaps it was friendly.”

The guard is quiet as he watches you get up from the riverbank, and sticks a comfortable distance after helping you gently up onto your feet. You suppose he doesn’t really have the heart, or perhaps confidence, to tell you what he really thinks of your childish talk. The barely-there path back to your home has you growing much more tired— as if weights are tied to your legs. You wish you could stay. The moss crunches softly under your feet, and the dewy air starts to feel a bit cold to the touch. Despite everything, it’s always peaceful here. You cast a brief glance up to the man as he pushes the shrubbery aside. His face has a vacant sort of look, until he catches you looking, and his mouth curls up. “I’ll tell your maiden servants to prepare a purifying ritual for you.”

“Ugh, no, please. Anything but that.”

+

“The koi fish aren’t around anymore, are they, lady?” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as your maid walks up.

You nod, lift your sleeves to brush your fingers through the water and wait. You got them as a present for your coming of age festivities— the most beautiful blue grey with red fins— much too expensive for your liking but a courting gift nonetheless. You’d been quite fond of the walks out of your houses’ walls because of them. The feed floats sadly on the surface of the inlet, where the clear river water shows no sign at all of the normally curious animals. “It seems like they’ve gone.” What a shame.

Your other maiden scans the area, before rushing to help you up onto your feet as she lowers her head. “Should we ask the master to procure some more? We know feeding the fish brings you much joy.”

The girl helps to fix your sleeves again, before awaiting your call. “No, that’s quite alright. There’s no use replacing a gift.” You cast a wary glance at the bay once more, not quite sure what you’re looking for; but fail to find anything out of the ordinary. A sight furrow comes to your brow, before you hike up your layers of skirts- much to the shock of your two servants- and turn to them with a softer smile. “I would like to be alone for a bit—”

“Lady!” one of them squeaks, but you only laugh.

“I am certain, Hitsu. Tell my father I will be home before tea and dinner, and if you could prepare my bath…” The dark brunette has a question on her tongue, but does nod with the same trained properness that you’ve come to know. “I simply wish to walk along the river, I won’t swim. It’ll be quick, I promise.” It’s not a lie. You have no intention of ruining your beautiful, expensive clothing by going any further than a shallow few steps. But there’s a nagging memory somewhere in the back of your mind— 

You used to have so many dreams, all of them now too faint to recall. Both young ladies give each other a look, before eventually bowing deeply and heading back towards the palace gates.

See, that nagging sense that you’re forgetting something important, something crucial, overcomes you. It’s almost impossible to ignore, and you kick off your shoes to tread carefully along the edge of the deep pool of fresh spring water. The moss is soft under your feet, keeping a tight grip on your embroidered silks.

When you were only a few years old, you used to have these dreams. Dreams of drowning, of ghouls and demons. They grew scarcer the older you got, and eventually even the weekly purification spells and chants became declared unnecessary. But where the memories once sat, now only a blank hole remains in your mind. And however hard you try to remember, you can never quite get there. You make it to the sloped edge of the river not much later, stepping up the small sputtering waterfall and a few round stones between stray bamboo— nearly still water pooling at your feet.

It’s chilly, but not freezing. Something scratches in the back of your skull, deep down. It trickles down your neck, and with a steady heartbeat, it breathes.

But you can’t catch the thought, and the harder you try, the cloudier it becomes— eventually you click your tongue and start walking along the water edge up stream. You should look for your fish. If they swam out of the inlet somehow, maybe they’d be around. They are, much like you are, bred for captivity and wouldn’t survive too long on their own. The sun casts warm spring rays onto your skin, walking in much needed solitude. When you barely realize you’ve spaced out, you’ve already made it to a bend in the river where peach blossoms float on the otherwise pristine surface of the water— and despite your previous care, you drop your dress.

The blossoms swirl in slow circles. And a raindrop lands on your nose. 

Arms, wrapped tight around your chest. Claws. Wide lashless eyes.

Something floods your brain so suddenly that you stumble back a few steps and gasp, sucking in a breath.

It was here. You can’t exactly make out what, but your gut recognizes the trees, the scraggly stones sticking out of the water. Your lungs full of water, and hands all over.

Bumps rise all over your back as you look around, and water seeps up along your tarikubi robe. It’s so quiet, and the stillness starts to trouble with each droplet that comes down. But you breathe. You’ve been here, perhaps more than once, and the aching, pressing itch deep in your head grows more unbearable. When a metallic flicker catches your eyes, you glance down. The rain now starts up more properly, and though the trees provide some shelter, there’s no hiding away from the cold as you walk in just deep enough to bend and pick up a dainty golden chain from between the smooth rocks.

It’s fine like thread, and cold to the touch, and though you can’t quite explain it; something about this finely crafted piece is familiar too. Even through the rain and the chills crawling all the way up your spine, you study the necklace closer. The intricate detail is almost too pristine.

A soft splash on the other side of the river startles you— The sudden scare makes you lose your balance and fall back onto your lower end. Hard. The ache immediately has you whimpering, but instead of worrying about the pain, you slowly try to catch yourself on the rocks; pained enough in the motion that you swear — you see a person diving underneath the water edge. Something pale and fast. You scream, and whatever you saw dashes away before you can think about doing different. The blossoms drift off as you scramble back up; your bruised palms sting, and your heartbeat still hammers hard in your throat when the silence returns.

But the blurry flash of maroon hair and fiery red eyes you caught is long gone.

And much too soon, the clouds that had seemed so fluffy and beautiful earlier turn a dreary grey. You turn on your heel and book it back down the river side on bare feet— still clamping the chain between your fingers.

+

The wick of your lantern splutters with thick oil as you fail to catch sleep. Even with the spring weather it’s chilly, with you remaining wrapped under a thick blanket. You breathe a long sigh, and listen to the crackling of the candle beside your bed in the absence of any other sound. The earlier lecture of your father, your mother, and even the normally quiet and collected matron of the house still lingers on your mind— it’s not like you can blame anyone. You wouldn’t be the first stupid, brazen young girl who happened to drown, and despite the quiet lives most girls like you live, you most likely won’t be the last.

You shouldn’t have been out there. Your servants had been ghastly pale from fright upon seeing the state in which you returned, and even the thorough scrubbing and hours-long bath didn’t do much to alleviate the ache in your lower back.

Despite all that, you’re stuck. Eyes -monstrous, unnatural eyes- appear in the crevices of your mind each time you close your own. No amount of prayer makes the longing fade, and the longer you lay here, the deeper they seem to dig into your flesh. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin once more. When you throw your blankets off you, you go digging in one of the woven baskets for the thickest bland garments you’ve got— tying them around your hips until you’re dressed enough to peer out into the hall. The frigid air current howls through the house when you gather your lantern, some woven socks, and after a brief bit of deliberation; snatch the golden chain from beside your pillow.

The palace is quiet at night, an almost eerie sort of calm that is broken only by the soft ‘pats’ of your feet on the hardwood— with the lanterns barely providing enough light to see a good arms length at a time. The wind pushes you forward, nuzzling deeper into the collar of your clothing until you make it outside. Even under the starry sky, there’s no doubt that this is a stupid idea. No good can come from nightly outings — though you’ve seen girls come and go in similar ways under the cover of night, you’re quite sure their purpose was less out-for-trouble than you are now. But what else can you do?

How could you ever sleep soundly not knowing what’s out there.

With only the flickering reflection on the water, you bow before your home— you’d be back soon enough. You love your clan— and you have no intention of getting caught in long lectures twice in a night. The guards at the gates have no way of noticing you as you slip into the brush and cover the lamp from sight, as cold breaths form clouds before your eyes.

Your legs move almost instinctively until you come upon the peach tree, and the pretty white flowers rain down with the breeze. You place the candle by your feet; and hesitate before taking your own seat on a round rock right by the water edge. You’ve never seen a yokai. Not that you can remember at the very least, but if you would have-you didn’t expect to here. Not the river that blessed your birth, or the one who gives everyone life by way of harvest. Maybe what you saw was a farmer bathing, or a particularly pale, large cod— wouldn’t that make more sense. Isn’t that exactly why you didn’t tell your father?

Because naïvity and silly wonder seems better than monsters lurking among the shrub.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, a soft splashing in the water sets every hair on your body upright— and your mouth goes dry. It’s so dark. So awfully dark that it’s hard to see even past your own feet, if not for the broken reflection of your candle in the water. You know it's there. You feel it, by the rancid sort of churning in your stomach, the rapid beating of your heart. You swallow the tightness in your throat as best you can. “I’ve come to return your necklace. I didn’t mean to steal it, so I’ve come to give it back.” You wish you could let your eyes grow used to the dark, but without candle light, it’d be so much harder to get back home in one piece.

After just the sounds of the river drag on, you slowly take another breath, and try to bite back the wetness that rises every time you try and fail to find the eyes you know are looking at you. “I don’t wish to harm anyone.” The wind seems to howl harder across the river, and you can’t fight the horrible visions of monsters all around you, just there in the darkness; tightening your hands into fists. “So I wish you would not harm me either. You can have it back.” Your hand shakes when you hold out the chain above the water— not nearly far enough for anything to reach it without coming into your sight. But you’re too frightened to go any deeper, and your lungs tighten.

“Please, I-”

The peaceful spluttering of the water is suddenly disrupted by a much louder splashing, and you freeze up with a sharp gasp, shoulders trembling despite yourself. You don’t dare move any more than that— only after a minute or so of silence, you continue. “Hello? Don’t you want your necklace back?”

The reeds shake in the wind, and one of the blossoms brushes along your cheek as it falls into your crouched lap. Your breathing is tense enough to almost hide the little mumble that reaches back. It’s soft, sweet like dripping honey, and makes your whole spine tingle. “We want.”

If you had any less sense, you’d probably run right back home. But the idea of moving is too terrifying, so you’re stuck rooted in place as you take a breath. The voice sounds young enough, but the Japanese is distinctly older than your own dialect, rolling off the tongue with a vague foreign lilt— and it takes your frightened brain a little longer than you want to process that the voice isn’t simply human. When another little splash sounds a bit closer, you pull your outstretched hand back to your chest. “Can you see me?” Your own voice wavers when trying to make out any shape in the river. Alas, it’s just so dark that any further effort hurts your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to give back your necklace. I got scared and took it, I’m sorry. I mean no harm-”

“He told.” The voice is unbearably clear. Almost like it’s being spoken directly into your head, even though it’s just a mere whisper among the rippling water. It’s distracting, and feels ice cold between your ears.

“Who’s he?” you try, biting your lip. The river seems to stare back at you, and you can’t do anything but hope you aren’t making some horrible mistake. Are you supposed to talk to the monsters that go bump in the night? “I- I don’t know where you are, I can’t see you.” Despite the soft, gentle nature of the voice, your heart patters wildly, unable to let go of your fear when there’s another closer splash. You must only be a dozen feet away from each other now, and still you can’t even see past the water at your toes. The voice stays quiet for a while.

“You don’t see is … better.”

You don’t respond for even longer. But for whatever reason, you almost want to agree. Not seeing, he almost sounds like a childhood friend of yours. The soft, honeyed words aren’t so frightening when you can’t see what they’re being spoken by; and you gather your last bit of courage to softly open your palm out again towards the night. “I’ll throw it over to you. Can you catch it?”

“No ‘throw’.” The -whatever- struggles with the word as he says it, before going quiet. You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you to throw it, or he simply doesn’t understand— so you just bite your lip and wait for any further comments that eventually do follow. “You put paw- h-hand.” Then, after another breath, “Come.” With a slight tremble in your voice, you breathe out a little laugh. You are really being asked to be braver than any girl with sense would— dragging your lantern closer over the pebbles until it’s right by your feet. Cursing yourself, you blink back nervous tears, trembling as you hike up the edge of your skirts, just the tiniest bit, and place only one foot into the shallowest part of the river for stability.

Your hand drops halfway outstretched, and you watch the flame where she glints back on the chain.

More splashing makes way for a more disturbing sound once it surfaces, of a body dragging over the shallow of the river towards you, scraping along the blunt stones— and you almost dart away when the sound comes close enough to reach. But your fingertips are almost frozen solid when another hand comes ever faintly into view, and wetness drops into your palm. To call it a hand is gracious, you decide. There’s longer digits, clawed, and webbed between each bony finger, and the wet glossy skin is more curved spike than thumb. The paw slides carefully along your hand, swiping up the chain as it goes— and leaves a cold coating all over your palm that you snatch back too quickly.

It’s unbearable to stay so close to something and not see it now, and you quickly hurry back to the safety of your rock as the same shuffling goes back to the water. Your heartbeat’s in your throat, and you can’t find any polite words to offer it until the yokai speaks again.

“Rin present, with- no, f-for you. You give present back, make happy. I am thank you.” You’re welcome, you think, but you barely manage to paint on a little smile before wringing your hands together and picking your lantern back up for safekeeping.

“I’m heading home now. If I’m not back soon my guards will find out.” It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate to thank it for not killing you when it had ample chance to, so you stay quiet. But there’s also a sense of gratitude that washes over you. Soon you’ll be back in bed like all of this was a dream. That seems right. That seems good. Your tongue lingers on your words. “You … What's your name?” The river bank feels much safer now you’re back on solid ground, and you can see the peach blossoms you almost slipped on.

There’s another long pause, where you almost make a run for it back all the way home, before the voice sounds out again from the dark— sugary sweet in its tone.

“Makoto.”

+

You’re pretty sure you should be questioning your own sanity. Everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to, and after the few restless nights you’ve had, you should be staying as far away as you can. But curiosity, mixed with a slight sense of obligation, has you walking the river bank like a little droplet flowing back to the sea. The quiet, scruffy man following behind doesn’t say much… never does, and you can’t say you dislike it. But you feel the glances your way, distracting you. Soon you find yourself clearing your voice. “You’re wondering why I’m walking this same path again?”

The older man only hesitates for a moment. “No, lady.”

“Sure you are. I would wonder if I were you.” There’s a faint smile that makes its way up, glancing out over the babbling brook to your left as grass tickles your ankles. “Not too long now and I’ll be engaged…” The peach blossoms above are almost done blooming— and you’ve never known your father to be an indecisive man. “Walking gives me a little break from all the fussing attendants, and father's advisors. Which is why it’d be even better if I were alone-”

It doesn’t take much pushback at all for the man to stop in place and give you a little look, resting his hand on the handle of his sword. “Lady.”

“Oh, please Azuma-san, we’ve had this same conversation for years.”

“I am not to leave you unprotected-”

You turn on your heel to face him. “I want to swim.” The stubborn frown on his face doesn’t move an inch, as your eyes go a little more puppy-esque. You have to know, so you have to lie. It doesn’t bring you joy either, but you might go insane if you have to live with questions for the next twenty years barred in some fancy prison of your future husband’s making. “-Swim right here. Without my very expensive clothing getting ruined.” Still that stone wall refuses to budge, and you throw your last bit of dignity into the ring. If this was anyone else you’d never hear the end of your unrefined words. “So I am going to get undressed.”

“—Ag-lright, just quiet. Your servants hear you and I’ll be lynched in the square.” He sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over his scruff, then gives a little bow. He wants nothing more than to roll his eyes when you offer back a self-satisfied grin, but instead takes a few steps the way you came with a stern look. “I’ll ask one of your maiden servants to make her way over here.”

“Don’t tell her to hurry!” you chant back, only taking off the heaviest layer of clothing once he’s out of sight. You lay it safe out of reach, before kicking off your shoes and socks and waddling towards the big stones again. Sure enough, the river here is a lot deeper than it looks. There’s a ledge in the pool that’s dark enough for almost any kind of monster to hide. This at least means your midnight escape wasn’t a total delusion. The peaceful sway of water grass settles when you dip your toes in the water, and wonder. There’s only a brief few minutes where you sit to think, before a slight thrashing once again captures your attention.

Only when you look up, the river is still, safe for a few tiny fish jumping out of the water. You get up, and tie your skirts up higher to inspect. A large maroon shape darts away into the darkness before you can take a good look, splashing droplets all over the river bank— and you hold your breath. You aren’t crazy. That definitely was much larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, and such a brilliant color that nothing but yokai could possess it. Brighter than all the finest silks, shimmering like a mirror. You wait for what could be a few seconds or an hour, before… someone- something else starts coming up from the darkness.

The olive-golden glitter rises so slow you have no choice but to take in another breath, but luckily don’t scare it away. His light chestnut hair is chopped short-ish, and a strangely human face— with cloudy black eyes, and green gashes either side of his neck— where he hovers below the water surface. It’s not human though. The eyes are big, round and deer-like, nose flatter, and his skin seems almost pearlescent. You don’t have the ability to think if you’re brave or just frozen solid. But whatever the case, the humanesque monster seems to stare for quite a while before judging it safe enough to approach.

It’s only then that you get to see the full extent of his body, scaled from ribs down, with a snake-like bottom half that’s at least longer than your entire body, and ending in a beautiful fish-like tail that feathers out in glittering threads. “Oh…” you breathe, and your arms wrap around yourself for protection, but you still don’t move further. Can’t, more like.

The half-man is close enough -and real enough- to feel a bit nauseating. Close enough to set every hair on your body on end and have your heartbeat a wild patter. But it’s the voice that really makes you feel frigid, gulping for air when that soothing tone comes out of a monstrous mouth. Whatever you had expected to see… wasn’t this. You can’t make out if the near-resemblance is comforting, or more frightening. You shiver at the black tongue, against porcelain white teeth.

“You come back.”

Your nod is hesitant, and you fidget with your jewelry in an attempt to calm your nerves. “I- wanted to see who I’d been talking to, that night. I haven’t slept well since then.”

He hoists himself a little further out of the water onto both hands, clawed and boney. “That was you, right? Makoto?” The brunet only gives a single nod of response, and doesn’t take his dark eyes off you for a second. And you want to laugh, though it isn’t too funny. The scene is just so absurd that you have nothing else to do, but laugh. “Isn’t this weird, talking to each other? How come yokai speak Japanese?” your voice comes, and you only hear how childish you sound when it seems to hang over the river without answer.

Out of all the questions you can ask, that’s what is most important to you? Makoto is gracious as he scoots a little closer once again, scraping his long, heavily muscled tail up over the pebbles and stones. “I listen very many year. Always listen, listen woman, listen warrior, listen you.” He blinks, and blondish lashes are the only normality you have staring back at him. “All can’t speak like me. I -hmm, pras-”

“Practice?” you try, and he clearly agrees when his tail pats happily on the ground. When you smile, he grins back wide and kind, his teeth are much sharper than yours. There’s something so human about the look, that you feel your muscles unwind a little further. You suppose, if he wasn’t so strange looking, with the wrong shades and fins here and there; he’d be quite handsome. He’d go over well with the maiden servants in the clan, too. “Many years, huh? Then- How old are you?”

“Hmmm- old. Very…” He doesn’t seem it, though. You avert your eyes when the water flicks over your feet, slowly dropping your shoes to the side. When you look back, he’s gotten closer yet, and is reaching out his hand towards the edge of the water, towards you. Despite your hesitation, and slight disgust— scaly and seemingly frost bitten pale lips, and unnatural greenish marks along his neck that flare out and in— there’s something that makes you want to follow.

A call, or instinct, to glide into the water and feel it embrace you. “You want come in?” he prompts, softly, and you do. You aren’t much of a swimmer even in high summer, and yet. You find yourself closing the distance and reaching out for his hand, letting your fingertips glide along as you get up to your knees into the water, and then get pulled along further step by unsure step. “Good, come.”

“Ah- it’s cold!” you squeak, but Makoto’s fingers wrap around your hand to support you even when you get almost up to your chest into the river, water crawling up your clothing and making your chest feel tight. “Sh- it's so cold.”

“Water not cold. You warm.” Only when he comes up in front of you do you truly notice how much bigger he is. His hands dwarf yours, and even though you’re higher up, his tail is curved aside to fit on the ground so he stares down at you— covering the sun from your view. He towers over any man you’ve ever seen, and his human-esque top half is still much broader than most. Like a hard plane of muscle, marked with thousands of golden freckles that shift in color the longer you look.

Shivers climb up your legs, and the water seeps your energy out of you. Wrapping your free arm around yourself, you rub some heat into your skin. Those pale lashes flutter as he gives you a half lidded glance, and the freckles that also go across his cheeks color a little more amber. “Lady is … cute.” Large hands suddenly slide along your sides up, before dragging over your shoulders and slowly taking your clothing with it, removing one of a few layers as he leans in. “Here, better without.”

“Oh. No- I don’t- think-”

“Shhh. Better, I know,” he seems to get closer, even though you are too busy staring back into the darkness of his eyes to really notice; and let him untie the robes enough to toss it towards the water edge. Then he pauses, and gets up higher onto his coiled tail to pull another layer off and throw it. Until you’re left standing in only your flimsier linen undergarb, and you’re suddenly much too aware of how peaked your nipples are against the scratchy fabric. But his hands slide up along your thighs to start peeling that off too, when you grab for him and shake your head.

Makoto insists. “No cold when not -this.” His hands keep going up even with your pressure on them.

Having a night encounter with a man is one thing, but you don’t know how you’d ever explain this if someone saw. You can’t dart away in a flash and escape the consequences. You have to go home after this. “I need my clothes to go back—” you quickly beg, ignoring the soft pads of his fingers along your upper thighs, “and if people see- Makoto, please.” Your whole body aches with the cold, and though the touch feels nice, it doesn’t seem right. Your nakedness isn’t a simple thing, even if his is.

“Clothes heavy. Water don’t like clothes.” He turns you around and you lose your footing on the stable flooring, arms quickly clinging onto his wide shoulders for support— it does make his point. Your clothes are incredibly heavy soaked, and pull down on you as strong arms ever so slowly wrap around your waist; nose only a few inches from yours. You can’t help it, your face gets hot. Cheeks, ears, nose- everything starts getting a distracting warm glow that you do your best to ignore, pulling your lip between your teeth. Even so, he seems to look down at you with intrigue, water reflecting in the black of his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very close…” you confess, and also try to release some of the tightness of your embrace— but amusement only brings him closer. He tilts his head, before leaning in until your foreheads meet, and the cooler skin consumes you. “Makoto-sama-”

“Human kiss, hm?” He’s so close, and his mouth is right there -and though you have no clue why, you really want to. The thought is almost as real as the air you breathe, feeling his hands roam all over your body through the soaked linen. Your voice doesn’t make it out when you nod, but he still lifts you into his chest, and your fingertips dig into his shoulders instinctively. “Show me how to kiss? You little one -hmm- good- fit.” You can’t help it, in place of physical heat there’s a sort of aching fire that spreads through your limbs the longer you stay close— and once you start you can’t stop.

Your mouth meets his first, lips moving with yours as his arms squeeze tighter; but when your tongue brushes his lips and meets his, he makes a noise. A low sort of purring that rattles his chest, and has him leaning in harder, trying to bury you into his body as your tongues brush and you suck and moan. His taste is mild but his tongue is heavy, and much longer than yours when it slips further into your mouth. Much longer, bigger, and the wetness soon has you feeling like you can’t breathe.

You pull back with a gasp, staring at the way his long tongue brushes along those sharp teeth before he leans in more. “Again.” You try to make some separation between your two bodies, but clearly Makoto doesn’t care for it when he clamps his hand down around your hip and kisses you more, melting to you as his tongue brushes against yours. He kisses like you’re the first and last thing he’s tasted, even when you moan a little whimper at the lack of air. His cold skin prickles against yours, grinding his waist against you slowly as your head pounds. Still, it feels good.

You don’t ever want to leave— and it’s this exact feeling that has you pulling back for air. You must be out of your mind. He stares with a blown out sort of hunger when you say his name again, and run your fingers along his shoulders up a little. “I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds me here- and- it’s not like we can—” Your cheeks get even hotter when you try to say the words, not even sure if he’d understand. Does a yokai’s understanding include human nighttimes? When he shows no intention of putting you down, you bury your face into his chest, feeling even smaller than before.

Though his skin is cold to the touch, there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two, almost impossible to ignore— and the way you’re positioned against him, large arms caging you against his waist that pushes into you— doesn’t help anything. You can feel yourself get more slick each time you move your legs. He seems to chuckle when you groan- and as if sensing your train of thought, he rubs his nose along your ear and down the sensitive of your neck with a lower voice. “I want see. Human body so little. Want see it.”

That’s the tipping point. Every fiber in your being aches to obey, to let yourself get touched, seen, taken by him— and your mouth drops open a sliver as you struggle to find words. Your feet can’t reach the bottom here, and Makoto seems content to keep rubbing against you in a slow sea-saw motion that makes your center feel entirely hot. And eventually you crack. Blinking up at him, you breathe a faint “okay”, and let him turn you around. His hands are quick in their exploration, sliding under the last layer up your thighs, squeezing every few inches as he goes up. When he gets to your center, there’s a little flutter of his eyes, before those digits slide in and brush over your pussy, rubbing just soft enough to leave you wanting. “Warm,” he breathes, and then pulls you a little closer. “You do me too.”

As he pushes your last layer of clothing open fully and starts sliding it off your shoulders, you allow yourself just a little curiosity. He’s handsome, and he’s close, and you just feel so needy. Your breathing is still short against his chest, but your numb fingers glide down his sides with purpose as the muscles flex under your touch. His chest rumbles when you whine at the prodding and circling of his fingers around your dripping pussy, and you glide your hands down to his tail. The touch feels a little coarse, but he’s warmer there, and when you rub your palm over the area he’d been grinding into your waist, your fingers feel a softer, spongey slit. Makoto hisses when you rub a finger up and down, and you feel more heat burn onto your face. “Here?”

The question is answered when your finger slips in and is all hot, and something bumps you. But he picks you up and with one swift dash, lays you down on the river bank to get up between your legs. You need to open wide to allow him to fit, and can only whine out his name when the weight of his body over yours pushes you into the cold stones. He licks the air a few times, before grunting. You wish you could do anything other than just flush and look away when his hands descend onto your tits and start touching and rubbing, and the pressure leaves you all exposed. But it doesn’t take long for his attention to shift back to between your legs, and now with a better angle, he sinks down to nose below your navel. “Hmn-”

The purring is paired with a flaring of the gashes on his neck, and his eyes roll back. When his hands spread your legs up as wide as you can go, he nuzzles into you, and that long black tongue peeks out to lick slowly. You can’t help it, you moan. Loudly. It feels like a million pinpricks are traveling your body, as the very long, heavy tongue drags a long strip up your center, and then the tip of it laps at the wetness coating your hole— that quickly gets pushed open further with each sloppy lick. His tongue pushes inside you as he sucks and the feeling of something so hot and so- squirmy makes you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s too strange, but you can’t pull back.

Your hands even reach for his head to tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, your back curling from the floor. You’re drenched- no longer just water as your pussy clenches around his tongue that he forces in to lick places you’ve never been licked. Makoto wraps an arm around your thigh to pull it over his shoulder when you curl and wiggle against him- you can’t help it, it feels so good. Everything’s so sensitive, like your entire body’s been doused into hot water and you’re drowning— only difference is, you’re actively longing for more.

It’s better than any drink-induced daze, late night tussle with a stable boy. It’s even better than your own touch and mind, because he’s just so big and you’re so full, so hot. Your hips grind against his face when he sucks again, and his nose brushes your most sensitive area— and try not to let the water into your mouth when you yerk again. “Ah, ahg, Makoto-sama. I can’t- I can’t handle this much, please. Oh dear gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Ah-ughhh, f- ah, please -keep going.”

Your lower belly is wound so tight, and even the sound of his breathing against you feels good. You could melt into the floor with how much slick is coating your insides, dripping out of you around the suction on your cunt. And Makoto doesn’t have any intention of moving. Your mind aches— you want more. You want to wrap your entire body around him and come apart— as his large hands squeeze your thighs tight and wrap them around his head like he can’t get deep enough.

The sloppy, wet sounds of his face burying between your legs to stuff you full of tongue, licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy. It has your muscles so tight as you roll your hips against him, and you can’t stop shaking. “Oh, I’m g-gonna cum— I can’t! I can’t. It feels so- gud. Ah, ahh. What is happening?” When your fingers clench in his hair, he lets out a long, animalistic groan as he glances back up. Still his tongue isn’t fully inside you. “I can’t- Makoto, I can’t!” Even though he’s reaching further than fingers can, he’s still able to fold the deft black muscle over your clit and slot his lips around it to suck. Hard.

And your body can’t handle any more. While his heartbeat pulses through his tongue against your clit, everything goes white, your muscles clenching so hard it hurts. And your heart beats so hard it feels like it stops altogether. If you make any noise at all, you can’t hear yourself over the pounding in your head, rattling your body so hard that nothing except you and him exist. Your eyes are shut until you’re aware of how he grunts against you and pinpricks get too unbearable. But he doesn’t stop, lifting your body to his face and allowing you to ride out your orgasm against him for what feels like forever.

When you feel like you can hear yourself breathe again, you unwrap your legs from around his head. “I thought my heart was going to explode. If Hitsu knew…”

Your eyes are teary when they flutter open against the light, and the black abysses that stare back are barely narrowed slits. Dipping his gills into water briefly before getting up above you again, Makoto seems different. There’s something predatory that wasn’t there before. You can’t help but go quiet. As his hands drag your body down a few inches, you swallow. “Are you okay? Sorry. I feel like I should thank you— I haven’t come that hard, ever. I don’t know about yokai but I don’t think I could feel that good.” His muscular body covers most of the river from your view, but you find it almost too hard to look at him. You’re still hot; but your skin feels cold.

His fingers slide down along your side when he lets out a little groan. “Yokai don’t do this.” Then he goes to brush his face and mouth along your throat, and you shiver a little at the feeling. “So pretty. Warm. I like warm. Stay with me?” You let him grind himself on top of you and embrace him the best you can, only fitting around the narrow of his waist, but after just a second you yerk up. Makoto pulls his head back when he notices, and you get another brush against your slit that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. Where the slit sat before, a dick has emerged- and your mouth drops open a little. The thing is vaguely dick shaped, but has spurs at the base like an anchor, is more pointed at the tip; and it also pulses with each breath.

“Pretty warm body, good. Smell good too.”

You can’t help but swear when you avert your eyes, and instead wrap your arms back around his neck. “Oh, fuck.” Surely, this is where you’d draw the line. Right? But the touching of that against you doesn’t make your body react the way you think it should. The prodding along your inner thighs just leaves you feeling empty, like you’d like to start all over again. Makoto grunts out a little breath when your tits brush his chest, before staring down at you.

After a few seconds of studying your face, and probably the heat that’s flooding your features, he licks his lips. “Human men have… hm-”

“Yes,” you quickly say. He smacks his lips and grinds against you again. “They uhm- put it inside.” If the answer shocks him, he certainly doesn’t show it— looking like he’s barely holding back from crashing his face back to yours and turning you over to fuck you like the begging whore you feel like. The longer he just keeps his solid body against yours, the harder it is to ignore yourself getting wet again against the pulsing of his cock. The purring, clicking noise coming from him feels nice, and you pull at him. “You’re not done yet, right? I can do more.”

You angle your hips a little, and try not to sound so desperate when looking up at him for a kiss. “Please- put it inside me. I- I want to feel you.” Your hands slide over the rougher scales down between you two to reach for him, and hesitate a little when his cock is heavy and covered in some sort of slime; and it seems to follow your touch. But you’re too far past embarrassment to truly care, and Makoto groans when you wrap your fingers around him to squeeze softly. “I need you.” You really don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel like your body’s being torn apart. You want to be filled, fucked full of him, and get pumped round of his kids— all things that you shouldn’t be thinking about. You didn’t with any men you’ve been with. You can’t.

Even though you know you’re being ludicrous, when he goes in for a kiss, you cling onto him hard; digging your nails into his back. You don’t even know if he could fit. His cock is proportionate to him- but it’s big and long and girthy enough to put any man to shame. You should care. You should care that you could regret being filled up to your breaking point, but you’re just so, so desperate. You might die if he doesn’t fuck you. You can feel it. “Please, please, please—”

—You slide a few feet across the floor, angry thrashing scaring you up into a flounder as you breathe in deeply. Makoto’s dragged off of you and down before you can even blink, water splashing everywhere; and you struggle back to the riverbank with wide eyes. Now you’re no longer side by side with another person- no, creature- you suddenly feel the entire ache of the cold water. The shortness of breath, the numbness of your lips and hands and feet. You feel the painful sting of your back where you’ve been sliced by a dozen sharp rocks, struggling to keep your head above water. And you feel the soreness between your legs of having been filled by something too big.

When you get over the pure shock, you notice the struggling has stopped, and you notice your creature’s golden shape next to someone else. They glitter and glint even in the low light of the afternoon, and you furrow your brows. The second shape only gets clearer when the light shines through the water and colors the flickers a blinding maroon. Your tongue feels cold.

Your arms wrap over your chest and cover up the best you can when Makoto surfaces again and gives you a kind smile, but you take a slight step back. His long, pale lashes flutter when he reaches out a hand. “Sorry. Rin don’t want to bleed you.” Your back and your painful scrapes are the lesser of your worries though. Whatever spell you were under, you’ve been snapped out of. You feel entirely strange- enough to have hot tears welling up along your waterline. What the hell have you been dragged into? You were going to… do things with some monster you didn’t know existed until today. Your brain screams and pounds, and your stomach is entirely flipped. But the brunet softly continues. “He don’t like I take you. Can you come here?”

“No.” Your hair now sticks to your neck and chest, and every second you’re out of the water, is one where the feeling comes back to your limbs. Your arms are so heavy as you keep them up. “There’s more of you?” You don’t know what you expected, really. Maybe you should have known. Maybe you should have questioned. But how could you have truly known?

“Yes.” he answers after a beat, and swims up a little closer with a frightening ease. “Shhh, okay. He will come. You stay.” You try to tell him not to, but he dips below the water surface before you get the chance to ask him not to, splashing water all over as he does— and you don’t know what else to do but to stare at the small bubbles that pop as peach blossoms wash over your feet. Before too long, the reddish shape surfaces alongside Makoto. He lingers in the deep of the river however; fiery eyes zeroing in on you without blinking at all. He stays submerged from the nose down, and you can’t help but feel too watched. 

Your heartbeat doesn’t calm when the brunet swims up closer, and you take a little breath. “Who’s that?”

“Rin,” Makoto softly, sweetly answers, as if he was expecting the question all along. He smiles wide like a saint, and you have to ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you to get back in the water. His hand reaches out though, and you almost want to. Almost. Your arms and back break out in goosebumps. Then Makoto looks back at the other yokai, and gives you a smiley once-over. It takes you a little too long to recognize something else that plays over his features though. A strange sort of knowing, like he’s seeing right through you. “You Rin’s mate.”

You don’t know why you don’t get up and run.

“Come back in?”

Only that the voice in the back of your head gets more unbearable. You wrap your hands over your ears, and try to hang on.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

this is the only car i can picture ghost in

imagine him fucking you in it

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 1: It Starts In A Bar

summary: your friends take you out to a local pub when you would much rather be grading assignments. a/n: hello! big surprise, me writing for john price! I don't know how long this will be, but I definitely have a general idea of where I want this to go. I hope y'all like it!

thank you @lethalchiralium for dragging me into the clubhouse kicking and screaming LMAO

Why did they pick this place again?

Ah, right. “It’s a hometown pub, a staple to the community,” they said. That was clear from the couple dozen men and women, ranging from middle-aged to elderly, scattered about, and a few younger folks peppered into the crowd. It wasn’t run down by any means, just…a dive. You mindlessly picked at the peanuts and pretzels in little bowls, elbows perched on the edge of the sticky table, for hours. You chatted and occasionally laughed at the stories they shared about their homeroom students and the shenanigans the other grades got up to. You’d been teaching year thirteen for a while, students taking their A-levels in history. 

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, spent with a stack of papers to grade, surrounded by glowing candles scattered around your apartment accompanied by soft white string lights stretched across the ceiling. Instead, your friends somehow managed to drag you out of your cozy home to a dark dive in town. You loved them dearly (really, you did), but you had a routine. Your ideal Friday night wasn’t in a damp bar.

Your kids could be challenging at times in their late teens. They occasionally cause trouble, known for getting into fights, interrupting class, or bringing drama into the classroom. Nevertheless, you’d never had a set of students that was more than you could handle. They turned their work in on time and were always nosy about your personal life, which – much to their chagrin – was uneventful. Your love life was stale, to put it nicely. And your friends tried everything in their power to set you up on dates, every single one striking out miserably. It didn’t feel natural to meet some guy at a restaurant for a blind date.

One of them talked about themselves the entire time, barely letting you get a word in. The next ordered about three more drinks than you and a meal that cost twice as much as yours but demanded you split the cost of the date. You were all for splitting the bill but on the first date? Not a good impression.

The rest were uninteresting and immemorable.

“Seriously? You haven’t been on a date since – Oh, what was his name again?”

“Zachary,” you pointed out, taking a long sip of your drink. “You should know; you set up the date.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realize he was such a bore one-on-one.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Loved talking to myself for two hours.”

You all laughed at the memory, starting to finish drinks and gather belongings. “Let’s get to the next spot to find you a man!”

Bar hopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you knew better than to resist. It would all be over much faster if you just went along. Your companions were much quicker on their exit, considering the nearly-full drink that you felt like you just bought, and they were already moving on to the next dig. You threw the rest of your drink back, flinching as the big gulp of alcohol burned down your throat, and hurried to catch up with them. You took one of their outstretched hands, giggling as they just about pulled you into the circle exiting the pub–

“Excuse me, miss!” a deep voice called out. You’re not sure why, but you turned, feeling like the man was calling out to you. Your assumption turned out to be correct, and a tall, dark-haired man with a beard and a soft smile approached you. “Sorry, you left this.”

He held your cardigan to you. You must have abandoned it in your haste.

“Oh! Thank you so much. That’s kind of you,” you said, taking the garment back and draping it over your forearm. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached,” you added, tapping your temple with a soft chuckle.

“Quite alright.” Behind you, an elbow nudged your spine; you barely caught yourself from making a face and snapping at whichever acquaintance decided to egg you on. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re heading out.”

He certainly was handsome. His beard was well-groomed, just like his hair. It looked like he went to a barber fairly recently. He even dressed well, in a cream, ribbed polo tucked loosely into his jeans. Dark chest hair peeked out where the top two buttons were undone. It was an enticing offer…

“Um, yeah, but….” You looked over your shoulder and met expectant glances. Some looked like they were about to bust apart at the seams with glee, which made you roll your eyes. Clearly, you wouldn’t be missed. “I could hang for a little while longer.”

The man's smile grew, and his stance shifted to open a path toward the bar. “Are you sure? Y’don’t have to,” he amended, his hands in his pockets. His energy was warm and soft but still masculine. He held a confidence that not many people carried, at least not the men you’d been on dates with recently. And the Liverpool accent? Maybe things were starting to look up.

“No, no, I honestly need another drink.” You flashed your teeth back to him, folding your arms over your chest with your sweater in hand.

“In that case, after you.”

Before taking his arm, you realized you’d yet to even ask for his name. “Thank you…?”

“John.” John’s right hand hovered before you and he flashed his bright teeth. His hands were clean, nails neatly trimmed. Although, one nail bed was bruised.

Man, he’s pretty for a grown man.

“Y/N,” you replied with an easy grin. He kept a steady hold on your gaze, carefully examining the bright twinkle they held. You didn’t know it, but John had just returned from a long mission. One that had left him yearning for a shower, a haircut, and somebody to come home to. He’d never had anything to look forward to and stay alive for; no affection or comfort after a rough assignment, no one to care for and spoil.

And he wanted that.

“A surname to that, John?” you asked, sliding your hand through the loop he created with his elbow. Holy shit, he was strong. Your hand rested on the soft but well-built muscle of his bicep. You figured he must have a labor-intensive job, or he goes to the gym frequently. John didn’t seem like the type to spend hours at the gym in his spare time, so you went with the first option. You’d keep that in mind when making small talk later.

“John Price.”

“Very regal name.”

John scoffed but laughed nonetheless. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

John couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unbelievably bubbly, especially for interacting with a stranger who only gave back your forgotten cardigan. He’d been watching you from his spot at the bar, laughing with your friends but zoning out every once in a while. He was no stranger to giving himself a mental break, particularly in a hectic environment like a packed bar on a cool, Friday evening.

“I’ll call you when I need a ride!”

You and John watched the giggly group exit the pub, happily waving as they piled into a cab. You waved back with your free hand, your other palm still pressed against his warm skin. They didn’t embarrass you too badly, thank god. You met John’s eyes, a dark color twinkling with mischief.

“Your friends seem chipper.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re just happy to see me talking to a man.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” he chuckled, nodding to your previously held table. John broke away briefly to retrieve his unfinished drink and denim jacket from the bar.

You followed his lead back to the booth, attempting to keep control of the flush you felt beginning to heat your cheeks. “They’ve set me up on many an unfortunate date. Not saying I don’t get along fine on my own, but–”

“It’s rough out there?” he finished, sliding into the cushioned seat across from you. When you nodded in return, John smirked. “Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

The man sputtered, choking on what looked to be an old-fashioned. Possibly a bad joke, but it was such a great opportunity; you were feeling frisky, and you couldn’t help the giggles that erupted following his reaction. “I teach history for year thirteen.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” John wiped the cocktail off his lip with the back of his hand, shaking his head at your laughter. “You had me going there. Five minutes into our date, and I’ve made a mess of myself.”

You quirked a brow. “So this is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I would consider it light conversation. Getting to know each other.”

“That’s a date.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s more casual than that.”

“I’m not looking for casual, love.”

You paused, examining his calm demeanor. He didn’t seem cocky, but honest, a welcome change to the pattern you’d observed over the last few months. None of your dates had been so bold as to know what they want and make their intentions clear. Especially not so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

You both sat in peace, pausing your conversation for the waitress. You ordered another drink, as promised, and folded your hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. “So, what do you do, John?” you asked, tapping your thumbs together.

“I’m in the military.”

You paused, expectantly waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

“Care to elaborate?”

He tutted once with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “I would love to, but I can’t.”

Interesting. Normally, resistance like that would be a red flag. On the other hand, his job could be “classified” or whatever is said in the movies. No alarms went off in your mind; your intuition told you that John was trustworthy, so you let it go. The pretty brunette dropped your new drink off and another for John.

“I can tell you that I’m a Captain.”

“So you have pretend kids too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. A slight tinge of the citrus notes from the expressed orange peel wafted across the table. John’s laugh was distinctive, chesty and rumbly, inviting. “Of course. Mine are bigger, though, I’m sure.”

“Oh? They’re not scrawny little soldiers?”

“No. One’s almost two meters tall.”

“Jesus. How many?”

“Five. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet them.”

“Likewise.”

You fussed with your hair for about the thousandth time in your bathroom mirror and huffed when it wouldn’t settle right. John was to meet you in about fifteen minutes. Knowing him, that meant he would be buzzing up to your apartment any second. You’d been on a few dates and knew his date habits pretty well. If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late. You had been out to dinner, grabbed coffee once or twice; you even grabbed an ice cream. So, it was a surprise when John suggested a trip to the museum. It didn’t seem like his thing, but you weren’t about to turn down a trip to the history exhibit.

As you expected, a familiar BZZT BZZT reverberated through your flat, signaling his arrival. The first time he picked you up, you let him into the building without using the intercom. You tried explaining that the speaker broke and your landlord had yet to fix it (shocker), but John wouldn’t hear it. You could have been letting in a random creep pressing buttons until some tenant unlocked the door. He insisted on creating a little system, so you would know it was him downstairs and not a kidnapper. From then on, he always rang the bell twice.

You gave up on your hair, switched the light off, and paged him in. Your unit was on the first floor (which wasn’t ideal), so it only took John a few seconds to reach your door. When you heard a knock at your door, you peered through the peephole (as promised) before unlocking the deadbolt, revealing a very well-dressed captain. John’s hair was a bit shaggy, but it suited him well. Your heart fluttered helplessly at the bright smile that appeared when he laid eyes on you, his gaze obviously taking in the sight before him.

It was a weeknight, and you didn’t have time to change between school and your usual errands. You threw a plaid skirt, thigh-high socks, and loose sweater together; just a sliver of skin showed between the top of your socks and hem of your skirt. You felt underdressed compared to John, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. 

“Hi,” he said, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Same to you. You always clean up well.”

“If you saw the state I’m usually in at work – you’d understand why.”

John kept a watchful eye to make sure you turned both locks for your door before guiding you outside to a waiting taxi with a hand on the small of your back. He held the door to your building and the car open for you. The drive was short, but the weather was starting to catch a bit of a chill, and you didn’t want to walk too far.

Ever the gentleman, the captain followed closely behind you up the steps to the gallery. Even if he weren’t perceptive, with years of experience reading people, he could tell you were excited to be there; however, he wasn’t so experienced in the ‘romance’ department. John honestly couldn’t even remember the last time he visited any museum, let alone a dedicated history exhibition. But when he suggested it and assured you that he would have a good time, he was only being partially truthful. Secretly, the man just wanted an excuse to listen to you talk. What better place to bring you than an exhibit where he knew you would talk his ear off for hours?

You slowly worked your way through each exhibit, explaining some pieces you recognized and their significance to the period; at displays you weren’t familiar with, you both quietly hovered closer to the title cards, reading through the description. While that kind of date wasn’t John’s usual cup of tea, he was glad he planned it; it helped him figure out how to slow the fuck down and try to be normal outside of a military setting or a pub.

His breath nearly stuttered every time you laid a gentle hand on his arm and drew his attention to the next section, beaming as you animately but quietly pointed out the tiny details in a Renaissance painting hung on the wall. The man couldn’t help but stare at how your lips curved at every syllable, wide eyes glued on the intricate scene portrayed. John hadn’t spoken much so far aside from the occasional affirmation that he was listening; he was very much in his head, unsure if you were excited to be there with him or just excited to be there. But, standing in front of the big painting, you went quiet. You met his gaze, and his lips pulled into a lopsided grin, which you returned before you both shifted back to the artwork. It was peaceful, absorbing the atmosphere and just existing together. Suddenly, John was jolted out of his reverie by the feeling of something brushing the side of his palm. 

You were itching to hold his hand all night but were too nervous to take that leap. What if he rejected you? That wasn’t likely after so many dates, but still. Your nerves got the better of you for the better half of the self-guided tour. Regardless, you had managed to work up the courage, cautiously grazing your pinky against his wrist and hand before wrapping it around his. You didn’t look away from the illustration, but he did, moving to you, then down to your hands.

He simply stared for a moment, surprised but positively giddy at the same time. Surely enough, John took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and leaning just a bit closer to you. He could stand there forever, basking in your warmth and energy, the sound of your voice sinking into his every thought–

“Oh no,” you said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him worried, wrinkles forming between your brows. “I-I’m sorry. I was teaching again.”

He immediately gave you a reassuring squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Don’t be. I like hearing you talk.” Jesus, did he have a way with words. He liked hearing you talk? With that accent, he could spew nonsense, and it would still draw you in. But hearing John Price give you compliments and praise? Flattery? You were a goner. “Tell me more about the next one?”

As if he could get any more fucking perfect.

“Okay.”

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

-

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.

Tailspin

it's still the weekend somewhere, right??

Matsuno Chifuyu, Baji Keisuke & Hanemiya Kazutora x female reader

w.c 6.3k

tw: noncon, yandere themes, character death, manga spoilers, minor blood and gore, violence, nsfw, smut, murder

Chifuyu remembers things he shouldn’t.

Events that never happened, fights, brawls, the death of his friends… his own demise, drugged and tied to a chair, the muzzle of Kisaki’s pistol, burning from the prior shot, pressed to his forehead in the split seconds before he pulled the trigger.

He remembers other things too. Futures that clash and diverge, timelines that can’t have existed, they play out in his head, over and over again.

“Who’s that chick talking with Emma?”

Chifuyu doesn’t have to follow Baji’s line of sight to know who he’s talking about. Inevitably though, he does, catching you giggle at something the blonde says, sipping absentmindedly at the glass of champagne clasped in your fingers. 

His gaze slips to the dress you’re wearing, a satiny, floor-length floral and blush number, lingering on the slit at your mid thigh – the flash of skin he gets when you shift your weight.

His throat dries, and Chifuyu covers it with a cough, tearing his attention back to the table, his own drink in front of him, a bead of condensation slowly rolling down the glass. “A friend of Hina’s.” He shoots Baji a brief, pointed look, “And she’s got a boyfriend.”

Fuyu remembers him, too. 

Baji’s canines glint in a toothy smirk. “Yeah? He here tonight?”

As if on cue, a familiar, handsome brunet appears at your side, leaning down to drop a kiss to your cheek, his arm winding loosely around your side. There’s nothing all that possessive about the gesture – it’s unthinking. Instinctual. It has you smiling, mid-way through whatever it is you’re saying to the youngest Sano.

His chest tightens.

That same man, not nearly so good looking with his face all smashed in, leaking brains and blood onto the concrete–

“Shame,” Kazutora, sitting on his other side, murmurs, his dark, honey eyes still drinking you in as he downs another mouthful of whiskey. The corner of his lip quirks up, “She’s cute.”

‘There. Problem solved.’

Chifuyu returns the grin, leaning back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh, “Do not get into a fight on Takemitchy’s wedding day.” He side-eyes Baji, “Either of you.”

“You scared of him?”

“No, I don’t want to be kicked out of the reception because you two idiots started an all out brawl,” he laughs, and prays that neither one of them notice that his hands are all clammy, gripping too tightly at his drink. 

“What kinda wedding doesn’t have at least one good fight?” Baji scoffs, only half serious – enough of a concession that something loosens inside of him and his next breath comes easier.

Baji won’t start a fight, Kazutora won’t start a fight. It’ll be fine. 

You’re close with Hina and Emma and friends with Takemichi by extension. But gone are the days of Toman, where they’d spend the better part of their time screwing around together. Their lives aren’t all tangled up like they used to be. Another few hours, and this’ll be over. You’ll be gone, taking your stupid, handsome boyfriend with you and Chifuyu won’t have to worry about seeing you again. He can go back to pretending that you don’t exist.

Anything else is…dangerous. 

Moments later, they’re joined by Mitsuya and Hakkai, Yuzuha drifting to join the girls, and the conversation shifts to other, safer topics. Plates of canapes come by, and they eat and drink and talk stupid shit, most of it laughing and reminiscing over the dumb things they’d done with Takemichi as kids. 

For a while, it feels like he can breathe. Relax, and enjoy this, because it didn’t come easy. 

And you, you look happy enough with whatever his fucking name is. Chifuyu tells himself that that’s a good thing, too. 

The night wears on, slow, romantic tunes drifting from the speakers. In small groups and pairs, their friends have begun to leave, either heading home to crash or to find somewhere more lively to keep the party going. 

Amongst the few couples remaining, Hina and Takemichi cling to each other, swaying drunkenly on the dance floor, oblivious to anyone or anything but the other. It’s cute, in a disgustingly mushy sort of way. For his part, Chifuyu hangs by the open bar, nursing a glass of whiskey and doing his utmost to focus on anything but the space you occupy, dancing with your boyfriend. 

“You’re staring again.”

“Fuck off,” the words come out more tired than anything else. 

Kazutora drops into the empty seat beside him. “From the moment she walked in tonight, you’ve been all… weird about her. Why?”

‘Please, you’ve gotta help me get out of here, he– he’ll be back any minute.’

Chifuyu shrugs, “‘s nothing, really she just… reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

Kazutora hums, looking entirely unconvinced. For whatever reason, and much to his relief, he decides not to push it.

Bruised, split knuckles grip your chin tight, ‘You’re gonna be good for us tonight,’ Baji smirks. ‘‘Cause I’m really, really not in the fuckin’ mood, princess.’

“C’mon,” Chifuyu says, knocking back the last of his whiskey and slamming the glass down. “We should head out. Some of us have to open the store tomorrow.”

Kazutora snorts, but follows suit without complaint. The sooner they’re gone – the sooner you’re out of sight, out of mind – the better.

—

When Chifuyu shoots awake with a gasp, pulse racing, heavy beads of sweat rolling from the nape of his neck down his spine, it’s to the sound of his phone vibrating insistently.

Kazutora, he realises when bleary eyes adjust to the bright screen, and with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he answers the call.

Wide, panicked eyes meeting his, hands grasping tightly at his arms. Two bodies lie on the floor; only one draws breath.

‘It was an accident, I swear to fucking god– you have to believe me. You believe me, right, Fuyu?’

The sheer relief that hits when the first words out of Kazutora’s mouth aren’t some combination of ‘I fucked up’, but ‘It’s Baji’ nearly knocks the breath right out of him.

Least ‘til they’re followed up with ‘accident’ and ‘ER’. 

He’s never thrown clothes on quicker.

The stuff he remembers from before – the timelines that don’t exist – they’re not always clear. Sometimes it’s difficult for him to place certain events in the right order, in the right timeline. He doesn’t always remember the knock on effect.

Baji’s death isn’t like that. 

You don’t forget that kind of pain. And yeah, maybe he got Kazutora out of it in the end, but fuck it almost destroyed him.

They saved him, though. They went back and they fixed it. He survived and Emma survived and Mikey and Draken and everyone – this is the future they’d fought tooth and nail for. This is their happily ever fucking after, and he can’t–

He won’t consider the possibility of another future without either one of his best friends in it.

Bursting through the doors of the ER, he feels all jumbled, heart beating out a frantic rhythm, breath coming ragged as though he’d physically run the five miles to get here. He scours the room… and spots Baji half propped up in a bed on the other side of the ward.

Awake, looking like he’d been dragged halfway to hell but–

Okay. He’s okay. 

The tension – part of it at least – lifts itself from his shoulders with a shaky exhale. 

Kazutora, sprawled across a chair beside him, notices him before Baji does. “You look like shit,” he comments, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

It earns him a smack to the back of his head as Chifuyu slides on past, grabbing another nearby seat and plonking himself down. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” He tries to laugh it off, really he does. There’s a few bandages, what looks like a broken arm, some cuts and grazes on his face. They’ve all landed themselves in the ER in worse states than this and come out the other side perfectly fine, but he can’t–

He can’t stop seeing it play out in his head, over and over. 

Baji dying. The sense of utter helplessness that swallowed him whole, clutching his dead body in his arms. The sound of his best friend’s last breath, that fucking smile–

‘I’d kill for some peyoung yakisoba right now.’

Baji scoffs, “Some asshole clipped me is what fucking happened.” Side-eyeing him, he adds, “Relax, dude, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He really needs to lighten the fuck up. 

“We’re waiting on–”

“–go already?! You got me here, I don’t need your help anymore, go home.”

Chifuyu’s eyes – Baji’s and Kazutora’s too– shift instinctively to the source of the outburst. Wheeled in by a nurse, your boyfriend trailing behind you like a kicked puppy, Chifuyu’s heart leaps into his throat at the sight of you, tear stricken, pain etched over every inch of the scowl you wear, clutching an ice pack to your ankle. 

‘Pick.’

Fearful eyes flicker between them, silently pleading for a reprieve. ‘But I-I haven’t done anything.’

He hums contentedly, and takes your hand in his, fingers entwining to bring it to his cheek, nuzzling against the soft skin. “Maybe not… but you were thinking about it. So pick one, or I’ll break them both.”

Something dark and unpleasant roils in his stomach.

“Babe, can we–” your boyfriend glances around the room, visibly cringing at unwanted attention the two of you have drawn. He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper, “Can we talk about this later? I get that you’re upset–”

Beside him, Kazutora’s head tilts, “Isn’t that…?” 

“…Yeah.”

“Considering it’s your fault that I’m here in the first place, yeah, you could say I’m pretty pissed!” you snap.

The nurse, doing her absolute best to ignore the squabbling and maintain some air of professionalism, gives you a sympathetic look as she parks the wheelchair next to a bed opposite the three of them and helps you up. “The doctor won’t be long,” she says, patting your shoulder before she turns to depart.

… Not without a sharp, pointed glare towards your harried looking boyfriend. 

That’s all background noise. Chifuyu’s too busy turning those words over and over in his head, waiting for them to click.

Your fault.

Your. Fault. 

And his eyes shift back to the ice pack you’re holding to a swollen ankle, the sheen of tears on your face, and a sudden, violent urge claws its way to the surface. It takes every ounce of self control he possesses not to launch himself across the room and start beating the shit out of him right there and then.

If he touched you, if that asshole fucking hurt you–

“That’s not fair. I said I was sorry–”

“Oh, you’re sorry?! Go to hell, Ginji! Actually, no. On second thought why don’t you go back to Rin’s instead, sounded like her bed was real cold without you there to fucking warm it!” 

While your voice quavers, the words are no less acidic. No less furious. You might be on the verge of shattering, but if looks could kill, your piece of shit boyfriend would be dead twice over.

Ginji stands there, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, floundering for words. 

He goes to touch your shoulder only to second guess himself, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment, then dropping back down to his side – a good decision on his part, considering Chifuyu’s half tempted to march his way over there and break it. 

Cheating? That piece of shit was cheating on you? 

Huh. Maybe the universe does have a sense of humour after all, twisted as it is.

Your boyfriend at least has the decency to look ashamed of himself, cheeks flushing pink. Rather than meeting your accusatory stare, his eyes are downcast, the speckled linoleum suddenly infinitely more interesting to the man. 

“It was a mistake,” he admits, choking the words out like they’re physically stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t– I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

Bitterly, you scoff, and Ginji flinches like you’ve struck him.

Good, Chifuyu thinks. Someone should hit the asshole. 

He, Baji and Kazutora aren’t the only ones drawn in by your argument. The doctors and nurses that breeze past, slowing their pace ever so slightly to catch a few seconds more, the patients in the beds around you, subtly leaning in, hushing their friends and families to better hear the drama unfold.

If you were less worked up, all the attention you two have drawn would probably bother you a hell of a lot more than it currently is. 

You weren’t the kind of girl who got off on causing a scene. The nosiness, complete strangers watching something deeply personal between you two unravel like it’s free entertainment, he almost feels bad for you. 

Then again, he’s seen you in far more compromising, vulnerable positions than this, and enjoyed it, too. 

Any guilt he might’ve felt – should have felt – was buried a long, long time ago. He’s not all that interested in digging it back up, and even if he wanted to, Chifuyu’s not so sure he could tear himself away.

“Just… go away,” you mutter. “Haven’t you done enough tonight?”

From your vantage point, staring misty eyed at your lap, you miss the way your boyfriend’s expression hardens. Chifuyu doesn’t.

He sighs, long suffering, “You’re being stubborn for the sake of it, you can’t get home on your own. You can barely walk, babe.”

“I’ll manage.” A curt dismissal.

“We can drive her home.”

Chifuyu’s soul ascends from his body, eyes incredulous – horrified – as he turns his head to find Kazutora staring straight at Ginji, eyes dark and glittering, a smile on his lips. 

It isn’t a pleasant expression. 

Your boyfriend rounds on the three of them, straightening his shoulders, shifting to hide you from view as though they’re some sort of a threat and he could in any way actually shield you from it.

(The first part is true, his subconscious reminds him. The second undoubtedly isn’t.)

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he sneers, shooting them a disdainful glower. “Mind your own damn business, we’re having a private conversation here.”

… A super private conversation with half the ER listening in. If he weren’t so on edge, Chifuyu might be tempted to laugh at that. As it is, his expression only tightens. 

Baji, bruised, bloodied and bandaged, matches Kazutora’s grin from his position propped up on the bed. The idiot barely escaped becoming roadkill, yet still manages to look like he wants nothing more than to start beating the shit out of your boyfriend right in the middle of the ER.

This is dangerous territory. His fingers twitch and flex, glancing uneasily between you, your boyfriend and his friends, trying to think of the right words to say to diffuse this situation, to get their attention off of you, you away from that asshole, and–

‘I hate you.’

Chifuyu presses a kiss to your naked shoulder, drawing himself closer to steal your warmth. ‘I know.’

“Oh my god, would you stop, Gin!” you snap, taking all four of them by surprise. Quieter, you add, “They’re Michi’s friends, don’t be rude.” 

That, it seems, is the breaking point for your boyfriend. 

He spares you an incredulous look, and shakes his head with a scoff, “Yeah, whatever. Call me when you wanna act like an adult about this and we can talk.” 

“Run along now,” Kazutora taunts, not quite quick enough to dodge the sharp elbow Chifuyu jabs into his ribs.

With one final huff, Ginji does exactly that. 

The moment his figure disappears through the sliding double doors, you let out a shuddering gasp, crumbling in on yourself as a fresh wave of tears bursts forth. On sheer instinct alone, Chifuyu’s halfway out of his seat before his brain’s registered he’s moved at all – only to stop dead in his tracks when one of the ER docs materialises at your bedside, chart in hand, and introduces herself. 

He swallows, forcing himself back into the uncomfortable plastic chair. 

“Dude, you good?” Again, if he were in a better mood perhaps he’d appreciate the humour in Baji, laid up in a hospital bed, being the one to ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah.”

Nobody says much after that. 

He’s distinctly aware of the curious, borderline concerned glances from his friends – not to mention the ones they share with each other – he’s hard pressed to care when his attention keeps getting pulled over to where you’re getting your exam, every wince and muffled cry of pain like knives under his skin, all too familiar.

You clutch at him with hands like claws, desperate, wailing, crying, a gross mix of snot and tears dribbling down your face as fingers poke and prod at your injured leg.

‘Stop being a dick, we need to set it or it won’t heal properly.’

Another twist of his wrist and you choke out another scream, burying your face in his chest to sob. 

His hand now rubbing soothingly at your calf, Kazutora’s expression turns thoughtful, ‘…Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?’ His eyes meet Chifuyu’s, ‘If it didn’t heal right, I mean.’ 

When they bring you back from getting an x-ray, rather than the bed you were in before, the one opposite them, the nurse wheels you over to the recently vacated bay next to Baji’s.

“So you can wait with your friends,” she says kindly, helping you up onto the bed. 

He waits for you to tell her that they’re not really your friends, that this has all been blown way out of proportion and you barely know them – which is the truth. 

You don’t, simply thanking her with a polite nod, and once she’s out of earshot you collapse back against the pillows with a sigh, “At least the pain meds are kicking in.” You turn your head to look at them, “Thanks, by the way. You don’t actually have to drive me home. You guys did enough getting him out of here.”

Baji opens his mouth–

“Did he do that to you?” Chifuyu cuts in before either of the others have a chance to reply, jerking his chin towards your swollen, most likely broken ankle. “You said…”

Your fault. 

There’s zero moral high ground for him to stand on, he’s perfectly aware of that, but it’s been bugging him ever since those words slipped out. If Chifuyu finds out that asshole actually laid a fucking hand on you, he’s gonna lose it.

If anyone – anyone – hurts you this time around, promises or not, he’s going to return the favour without hesitation; eye for an eye, tooth for fucking tooth.

Nobody touches you. 

For a second you frown at him, confused, and then something must click because you laugh, sad and more than a little sheepish, and shake your head. “No, no, not like that. We were fighting about the whole… sleeping with his ex thing.” His fingers curl into a fist. “I went to storm out of the apartment, he grabbed my wrist to stop me and I tripped. Pretty dumb, right?”

He doesn’t laugh with you. None of them do.

—

Chifuyu gets a text from Takemitchy the next day. Between all the emojis and the exclamation marks, it’s a thank you note. You’re practically a sister to Hina, and now that they’re married, a sister to him, too.

All he did was drive you home, and Takemichi’s acting like he stepped in front of a bullet.

Yeah, Chifuyu’s a real knight in shining armour. 

… A masochist, maybe.

Ignoring the fresh wave of self disgust that settles inside of him, he sends a thumbs up in response. 

What else is he supposed to say; yeah, no worries, it’s the least I could do after making her life a misery the past few goes ‘round?

They’ve all done bad things, he won’t deny that. Killed people. Hurt people. Kazutora stabbed Baji, Draken ended up on death row for murdering Kisaki, in multiple timelines Mikey was either directly or indirectly responsible for all of their deaths. Even Takemitchy lost his way once or twice before he caught up with himself.

And it’s not that he holds that against any of them. Takemitchy certainly doesn’t. Things were fucked up for a long time, and each of them became fucked up people trying to deal with that. 

But in the same way he can’t be around Kisaki without wanting to throttle him, Chifuyu can’t look at you without seeing every awful, horrible act they put you through play out in his head like a movie that won’t turn off. Rewriting the timeline doesn’t erase that. It doesn’t absolve him of the guilt.

So he stays away. Keeps Baji and Kazutora away. 

Or tries to, at least.

A few hours after Takemichi’s text, his phone lights up again, vibrating to announce a new message, this time from a number he doesn’t recognise. 

Hey, I got your number from Michi! Hope you don’t mind–

There’s more, he doesn’t read the rest. Deletes the message, switches his phone to do not disturb and shoves it back into the pocket of his jeans, forcing himself to focus on the inventory lists in front of him and not the pounding in his chest. 

Chifuyu’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard. You’re not making this any easier.

—

A week and a half later, the weather outside is miserable and the store is quiet when, a little before closing, the bell above the door rings, announcing a customer. 

Baji with his busted arm sits at the counter, Kazutora busy with restocking the shelves, so Chifuyu, out the back working through the month's expenses and wondering (not for the first time) why he hasn’t yet hired an accountant to do this for him, ignores it.

At least until he hears an all too familiar sound trickling through the door, one that sends a pang straight to his heart. 

Your laugh.

Unmistakable, unforgettable, Chifuyu’s mind goes blank and like a dog with a scent he’s out, weaving his way to the front of the store, chasing after it. He finds you, moon boot and all, leaning up against the front counter, laughing at something Baji’s said.

The image of you, relaxed, perfectly at ease, happier than he’s seen you for a while – the wedding included – does a funny thing to his insides. And then you turn to face him, your countenance brightens and for a good few seconds he forgets how to breathe.

You’ve always been beautiful to him – smiling, though, it’s a gut punch. Palms sweaty, heart racing, he’s struck dumb. 

“Chifuyu!”

‘Fuyu–Fuyu, please–N-ugh!’

‘Don’t know what you’re begging him for, princess. Chifuyu’s not gonna help you.’ 

Baji’s hand curls through your hair, dragging your torso up to meet his bare, sweat slicked chest. Dark eyes glint, his tongue drags along your neck, teeth nipping at your earlobe, causing you to whimper. 

He laughs meanly, ‘He’s enjoying this too much.’

“You’re here,” he replies lamely, glancing to his left to find Kazutora watching him with thinly veiled amusement. 

You take it in stride, “Well yeah, you never replied to my message, so I had to ask Hina for the address. You’re a difficult guy to get a hold of.” 

The teasing lilt in your voice tells him you’re only joking, his cheeks flush anyway.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks instead.

“Better! Still a pain, but you know, it could’ve been worse. I can walk… kinda. More of a hobble, I guess.”

“Least you can take yours off when you’re showering,” Baji grumbles from behind the counter.

You laugh, “True.” To Chifuyu, you add, “I wanted some stuff for Bean, and since you never replied to my message, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and swing by.”

“Bean?” Kazutora asks, completely abandoning all pretence of working to draw closer and join in on the conversation.

“My kitten. She’s a little terror.” 

… You used to play with the strays Kazutora brought home, he remembers that. Talked to them in that soft baby voice, coaxing them closer for pats and treats. Let them curl up and fall asleep on your lap when you were reading or watching tv. 

It was almost definitely an act of petty defiance, showering the felines in love and affection all the while ignoring them as much as they’d allow. Hard to take it to heart, though, when watching you fawn over them was pretty much the cutest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Anyway, there’s this new noodle bar that’s opened up down the road. You guys are almost finished up, right? Let me have a look around for a few things for Bean, you can close up and we’ll go. My treat.”

He arches an eyebrow, “Because we drove you home?”

“Because you didn’t have to drive me home, or stand up to Ginji, or keep me company in the first place,” you counter, still with that same open earnestness, that soft expression that has his insides all tied up in knots. “And because I want to. Are you really going to turn down a free meal?”

The universe is fucking with him. Punishing him, maybe. 

And it’d be so, so easy to blame you for it – you’re like one of those sad, beaten down dogs that keeps returning to its master no matter how many times they’re kicked – except there’s no version of this where he’s the good guy, and you don’t remember anything different. 

Chifuyu’s expression shifts into a paper thin smile. “Take your time looking around,” he tells you. “But dinner… It was just a lift, no need to make a big deal out of it. We’re good.” 

“Oh, yeah– no, of course! I um, I won’t keep you guys long.”

It’s Kazutora, watching the exchange with that same considering look he’d worn back at the wedding, who cuts in, saving Chifuyu from responding. “No rush, take as long as you want.”

Your eyes flicker back to Chifuyu, hesitant now, unsure. Still, you paper over that disappointment, your expression not quite as bright as the one before, but genuine all the same. “Thanks, I mean it. And… if you change your mind about dinner,” you shrug easily, “the offer’s open.”

He only nods, turning sharply on his heel to leave before you can get another word in. 

Before you can convince him that dinner is in any way a good idea. 

You shouldn’t make him feel like this – not guilty. No, he’d take the guilt in heaping droves, he certainly deserves it. You make him feel all off kilter, like his heart’s beating out of sync, and his whole body’s wired wrong. 

You stick in his head, refusing to budge. To give him a minute’s fucking peace.

And as he makes it back into the sanctuary of his office, firmly shutting the door behind him and falling back against it with an unsteady breath out, Chifuyu wonders if this isn’t your own brand personal of torture. 

If it is, it’s sure as hell working. 

—

Fingers wind into your hair, Chifuyu shudders, groaning appreciatively at the sight before him. 

Your eyes are big, swimming with desperate, pretty tears as you choke and gag around the cock stuffing your face. For him it’s heaven – the plush, wet heat of your mouth, the tiny spasms of your throat closing around him when he pushes in deeper.

He curses, moaning louder, dragging your face to his pelvis and holding it there, rutting his hips faster, fucking your face as you beat and claw at his thighs, unable to breathe. That blistering thread of pleasure deep in his core pulls taut–

Chifuyu’s eyes snap open, heart pounding, and he gasps for air. In his boxers, his cock twitches insistently, half hard and aching, the phantom sensation of your lips wrapped around it too fresh to ignore. 

If he had a shred of decency left in him, he’d go and take a cold shower. If he were more awake, if it weren’t the dead of the night, if his bed wasn’t so comfortable, and the memory of you swallowing him down any easier to banish.

His hand snakes down into his boxers, and as he bites down on his bottom lip to muffle any noise and takes himself in hand, rubbing the now throbbing length, he tries not to think about how disgusted you’d be if you could see him now. 

—

You’re at Takemichi’s birthday, chatting animatedly with Pah’s girlfriend when he arrives. You brighten when you see him though, and wave. Half heartedly, he returns it, then spends the rest of the night doing his utmost to avoid you.

Which in no way deters the birthday boy himself from plopping down beside him, beer in hand, and awkwardly attempting to set you two up. 

“She’s great! And y’know, she’s pretty and super nice. And um, she broke up with that Ginji guy so she’s single right now as well.”

He bites back an bitter laugh, and risks another glance your way. 

A few days later, Chifuyu runs into said ex on his way home from a late night beer and snack run. The brunet doesn’t notice him, minding his own business up ahead on the sidewalk. 

There’s nothing in particular that sets him off. He’s not even sure it was a conscious decision. One minute they’re walking, the next they’re down an alleyway out of sight and he’s on top of Ginji, beating the absolute shit out of him.

And he can’t stop.

His fists are slick with blood, knuckles split, and the wet thwacking of flesh hitting flesh drowns out the sound of his own haggard breath, the yelps that turn into grunts and groans, and then garbled nothings.

In his head, the images shift, coming one after the other, relentless–

You, flinching away from his touch, trying in vain to hide your tears.

Baji, panting, balls deep inside of you, forcing your lips together in a violent kiss. 

The sick, soft delight playing in Kazutora’s eyes, his fingers tracing idle patterns into your shoulder as you sleep. ‘She’s perfect, isn’t she?’

He can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

—

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Chifuyu blinks, jerking back to the present in time to realise that the shelf he’s been re-stocking is already full, and he’s been standing there mindlessly trying to shove extra products into a space they physically won’t fit for god only knows how long. 

He shakes his head, clearing his throat and glances at Baji. “Nothing, it’s– I’m fine.”

From the disbelieving look on his face, the single raised eyebrow, he can tell Baji doesn’t buy it. Chifuyu can’t blame him, really – it’s been days of this, operating on some weird, malfunctioning autopilot, pretending that everything’s a-okay when he hasn’t slept and barely eats. He can’t close his eyes without seeing you.

He’d honestly be more surprised if his friends hadn’t noticed anything amiss. 

“I’m good,” he repeats, forcing a tight smile. 

Is this what it feels like to lose his mind?

—

When Takemichi calls him late one night a few days later, he’s expecting some sort of well intentioned – albeit clumsy and heavy-handed – attempt at an intervention.

‘We’re worried, you’ve been acting kinda… strange lately. You know you can always talk to us, right?’

He’d have to be blind to miss the shared looks between Baji and Kazutora at work. More than once he’d walked in on the two of them whispering between themselves, only for them to separate and act completely oblivious the second they noticed him. 

Chifuyu wouldn’t put past either one of them to confide in Michi about it, either. 

As it turns out, he’s wrong.

The day of your funeral, it rains all day. Not a light drizzle either; black skies and rumbling thunder, a deluge that won’t let up. It feels fitting.

Chifuyu puts on a suit, drives with Baji and Kazutora to join Takemichi and their friends at the shrine. Neither one of them ask why he’s adamant on going to the funeral of a girl he barely knew.

They don’t say much of anything at all. 

An older couple is standing by the doors when they arrive, greeting the mourners as they enter. It takes him a second to realise that they must be your parents. Your mother cries quietly, your father shaking hands and thanking them in a stiff, thick voice for coming.

Once inside, he spots Hinata in her kimono first, crying her eyes out on a misty eyed Michi’s shoulder, Emma standing to her left, not faring much better. But the others are there too, dotted throughout the room; Draken, Mikey, Pah and Pe-yan. Mitsuya with his sisters, Hakkai with his. 

Whether they’re here for you or in support of Hinata and Takemichi, he doesn’t know, nor can he muster the energy to care. 

Chifuyu says little the entire time, jaw set, bloodshot eyes rimmed in red, and the only thing he can focus on throughout the service – the only thing keeping him together – is the deathly tight grip Baji keeps on his shoulder and Kazutora’s hand locked around his. 

A mugging gone wrong. What kind of sick fucking joke is that?

They put you through hell, you suffered and suffered and suffered, and he fixed it. He did everything right this time; kept his distance and nearly drove himself insane, and for what?

You were supposed to have some kind of a future.

If you weren’t with them, then you were supposed to be happy. 

Instead you’re gone, and Chifuyu can’t feel anything. 

There’s just… nothing. A gaping, jagged hole in his chest, and he realises that he was wrong earlier. Losing his mind wasn’t forcing himself to give you up and stay away, losing his mind is staring at the coffin holding your dead body.

—

Takemitchy, tipsy and loose-lipped, told him once about how he’d gained the time leaping ability. How Shin had, before him. 

—

A fist pounds at the door, “Oi, hurry up. We’re gonna be late!”

Chifuyu lets out a breathless laugh. 

His shirt’s rumpled, tie askew, the waistcoat and jacket laid out on the bed in preparation for today carelessly shoved aside, and as for his pants – they’re unbuckled and hanging from his thighs.

His hips snap forward, drawing a sharp squeal from you, which he’s quick to soothe with another feverish kiss. “Shh, almost–” he pants, licking his lips, “almost there.” 

And true to his word, he picks up the pace, moaning at the way your tight little pussy clenches reflexively around him, spasming under the relentless barrage of his cock stuffing you full, molding your insides to the shape of him. 

You’re probably still sore and oversensitive from earlier. They hadn’t been gentle, Tora spreading your legs and shoving his face between your thighs before you’d even woken up, Baji quick to join in on the fun. You’d whined and sniffled and pleaded, tearfully begging for them to stop, but you always look so cute like that, shuddering and wrecked, cumming for them in a fucked out stupor over and over.

He knows they should treat you better, take a little more care with you – at least with stuff like this. Right now, though, it’s impossible to think of anything but chasing his own pleasure, fucking you deeper, faster, the sheer bliss of you milking every last drop of cum from his cock while he groans out your name.

He’ll make it up to you later. 

Your nails rake down his back, harsh enough to draw blood if not for his shirt, and he hisses in pleasure. Your tears, the breathless pleas, even the weak struggles beneath him, none of it breaks through that haze, he’s wholly lost to the pleasure of your cunt. His grip on you tightens, drawing you closer, your naked, heaving tits pressed against his chest. He can feel your racing heart pounding. 

His head tips back, mouth falling open. The rhythm of the onslaught gives way to urgency, hips faltering, punching himself deeper in short, rabbitting paps.

You hide your face in his shoulder, clinging to him, choking back a sob–

“Fuyu! For fuck’s sake, if you don’t hurry the hell up and finish, we’re going to miss the damn wedding!” Baji snarls through the door.

You tense, toes curling, and squeeze so tightly around his cock that Chifuyu loses control entirely, pleasure exploding like stars behind his eyes, ripping through him violently as spurts of hot, thick cum splatter your insides. His hips rock into you, and he murmurs your name in a contented sigh, riding out his orgasm with a few last, lazy thrusts.

When the wave eventually recedes and he catches his breath, he carefully eases his cock free, lowers you down to the bed – paying no mind to the cum that dribbles from your abused cunt onto the bedsheets below – and presses an affectionate kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re so good to us,” he mumbles, collapsing down beside you. 

You stiffen at the words. Fat, glistening tears well in your eyes and spill silently down your lashes. Gently, he thumbs them away, but you don’t say anything.

You rarely do these days, if you can help it. 

If he weren’t in such a rush, he’d take the time to clean you up, get you some water. Instead, he has to make do with a quick kiss, forcing himself to get up and fix his appearance, tucking his spent cock back into his pants.

Takemitchy’ll almost definitely have a meltdown if they’re not at the venue soon. 

Racing around the room, gathering up his clothes and throwing them on, he keeps a half an eye on you. You don’t move beyond a soft, shaking tremble, your quiet sobs tugging at his heartstrings. 

This is better than the alternative, though.

You might not see that yet, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And they love you. He loves you. If it keeps you alive and safe and with them, he won’t apologise for it.

The simple truth of it is he, Baji and Kazutora – they can’t survive without you, and you can’t survive without them. 

fracture v

ran x reader

ran x reader w bonten sprankled in

summary: old friends become enemies. ran shows a bit more of his hand. so does mikey.

cw - drugs, smut, guns, murder, praise, degradation, dub!con, reader is a sex worker w a sick brother. ran likes you!!! likes you a lot!! too much probably, probably far too much. a/n extra long because i made you wait.

minors dni

prev

“Listen,” he says, “Kakucho said this shit to me once, that the only things in life that matter are the things that bring you happiness. I like the girl, so I’m keeping the girl.” A small spark burns in your chest as he speaks. “I like Mcallan 25 so I drink Mcallan 25. I like my  Bentley, I like my penthouse, I like workin’ hard but not too hard. You overcomplicate things,” he wrinkles his nose at the very idea of it. “You,” he says, “Get stuck between duty and happiness, and expectation, which, is a fuckin’ minefield considering our line of work.” Ran shrugs. “Me, I just go with the flow.” The car slows to a stop. “I gotta go have dinner with a beautiful woman and talk a bit about drugs over the best bolognese in the city. Try not to get your panties in an existential twist, maybe try finding some of that bratty pussy you like so much.” 

“Ugh.” Rindou groans. “Call me when you’re done.” 

“I won’t.” Ran grins, reaching for the door. “But you can call me. You can always call me.” Years flash in Rindou’s eyes, Izana, Juvie, their last halcyon days in Roppongi. 

“I know,” Rindou says. “I know I can.” 

Ran hangs up and sighs before wrapping an arm around you, and rubbing your shoulder. He presses his lips together before speaking. 

“This could get rough.” He says quietly and then brightens. “Big day for you, though, huh?” You nod, nuzzling closer to him. “It won’t be like this all the time,” he explains, “But we’ll need to sort out this mess.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you look up at him, “I’m so sorry about your friend.” A muscle in Ran’s jaw tightens, and he nods. 

“I’m alright, sweetheart.” He looks over at Yuuta, “Didja bring it?” Yuuta nods, palming him a box wrapped in white paper. “For you.” Ran grins, and you open it carefully, lifting the object out of tissue paper with reverence. It’s a purple leather holster, so dark it’s nearly black, with a short buckle, clearly meant to be worn around your thigh, and tucked inside is a tiny, adorable silver gun. “It’s a 4.25 Lilliput pistol.” He explains, “And I want you to have it everywhere we go.” You nod. 

“Yes, sir,” you run your fingers over the leather seam, and look up at him, eyes wide, “Thank you.” He shoots you a wolfish smile. 

“You don’t use it without my permission.” He says, and his stern tone flies you back to one of your teachers, nearly ten years ago. “Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” You repeat. Yuuta looks away, fidgeting as Ran pulls you closer. 

___

“Heard you were in a bit of trouble,” Rodrigo Alfizi shakes Ran’s hand, standing up from his chair at the restaurant. He’s tall but still shorter than Ran, and his dark eyes sparkle in the candlelight of the private dining room. It’s luxe, with soft white tablecloths, adorned with votive candles and lush greenery. The hostess ushered you back here without asking any questions and Ran only drops your hand when Rodrigo offers his. 

“Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Ran pulls out a chair for you, and you sit, delicately dressed in an outfit he chose, hands folded in your lap. “This is my assistant.” Rodrigo nods, reaching a hand out to you. You look to Ran, who nods, and you take it. Rodrigo brings it to his lips and then releases it quickly. 

“I’m afraid my wife was feeling under the weather.” He says, and you see Ran cock his head just the slightest degree. 

“Sorry to hear that.” The two men sit at the table and Ran glances at the menu and answers before the waitress opens her mouth. “We’ll have the Chateau Mouton red blend, and start with the carpaccio.” 

“Yes sir,” she stammers and then looks to Rodrigo, who shrugs. 

“I’ll stick to a negroni,” he smiles, “And the eggplant crostini.” She nods and disappears, and when the door closes he leans forward, leaning on the table. “So, Mr. Haitani,” he says, “I hear I owe you my condolences.” Ran shrugs. 

“Thank you.” He says, and it strikes you how he doesn’t engage in his usual banter, eyes flicking to the closed door. “I wanted to talk to you about the docks.” The other man raises his bushy eyebrows. 

“Yes, you’ve told me that there’s a chance you’d take your business to Sakusa.” Rodrigo leans back in his chair. “I have to say, disappointing to hear, given, of course, our long relationship.” Ran nods. 

“I don’t wanna do it, buddy, but you’re forcing my hand here. We’ve had three shipments lost in the last few months, that’s more than 150K of product.” The waitress comes, holding a bottle of dark red wine. They pause their conversation as she opens it in front of you both, Ran tastes it and then nods to her, she fills both of your glasses and leaves again. 

“Surely,” Rodrigo says, and you hear it now, an edge to his tone. “Surely you’re not willing to throw away years of friendship over a few lost boxes.” Ran shrugs. 

“S’not me, Rodrigo, it’s Koko.” Ran takes a sip of his wine, and you notice that Rodrigo waits to speak until Ran sets the glass back on the table. Ran wipes his mouth delicately, taking his time, measuring the power he still held. “Of course, I’d like to keep you on, but I can’t justify the losses at this point.” There’s another silence, and you feel Ran relax a little. 

“I think I may have a solution,” Rodrigo says, just as the waitress comes in with his cocktail. “I may be able to track a few of those boxes down.” Ran hums, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the table. “And I could offer you something more valuable, as, let’s say, a token of gratitude.” He brings the cocktail to his lips and Ran hums, it’s a deep, grumbling sound. 

“Whatcha thinkin’,” He says, and you’re struck by how fluid his speech patterns are, how he can go from high falutin and prissy to talking low and dangerous. 

“About that trouble you’ve been having.” Rodrigo says, “I might know something.” Ran sighs, taking another sip of his wine. You bring your glass to your lips and have to stop yourself from reacting. It’s the strangest thing, deep and sweet and rich, grounded in bitterness. Ran notices in his peripherals and rests a hand on your bare thigh. “I heard you had a regrettable loss.” Ran nods. 

“Knew Shion a long time. The service is on Thursday if you’d like to make an appearance.” 

“Of course,” Rodrigo says and he clears his throat before continuing. “I’ve got a lead for you, about the Silver Dragons.” You stiffen next to Ran and he feels it but squeezes your thigh tightly. “You were thinking about Daito Yagami, weren’t you?” Ran’s face remains impassive. “And I assume Mikey might have been wondering if a certain Osanai had any living relatives, and I wonder if Kakucho even remembers Honda Amaya.” Ran withdraws his hand from you. “You’ve been in the game a long time,” Rodrigo says, and you swear the room drops two degrees in temperature. You watch Ran’s hand fly to the waistband of his pants. “You’ve all left a trail of bodies in your wake, and you thought the day would never come where you’d have to answer to that?” He leans forward, but Ran doesn’t back down. “All men must answer for their sins.” 

“Is this the part where you monologue and feel self-righteous?” Ran says, hand flicking the safety off on his gun and you swallow nervously, mentally calculating how fast you could run, how far away Isami and Yuuta were outside. “Because I’ll skip to the part where I put a bullet in your head.” Rodrigo balks, and Ran puts the gun on the table, eyes narrowed. “You wanna fuck me over, Rodrigo Alfizi?” Ran says. “Go ahead.” 

“Easy,” Rodrigo purrs attempting to regain his composure, “Easy, Haitani. You know I’m not dirty, or you wouldn’t have shown up here. I’m just providing you with,” he trails off, thinking, you can see the flicker of the votives in his dark eyes, “Information.” Ran doesn’t frown, but the slight downturn of one corner of his mouth is enough. He squeezes your thigh and stands. 

“I won’t be played with.” His tone is short and clipped. “Come on.” You stand, pushing your chair in. 

“Wait,” Rodrigo sputters, “You don’t-” 

“Did you consider,” Ran says, whirling around, one hand on your wrist, “That we came here because we knew you were dirty?” There’s a silence, you can hear the clang of pots and pans in the kitchen nearby. “And I was offering you one last chance?” 

“I’m not-” Rodrigo starts, but Ran doesn’t let him speak.

“Did you consider?” Ran says, tone frigid, “That I’m a dangerous fucking man, Rodrigo Alfizzi?” 

“Of course I did,” Rodrigo’s eyes narrowed, “Which is why I’d never cross you.” Ran doesn’t move. “I’ll, I can give up my contact.” He says, shoulders slumping a little. “If you won’t go to Sakusa.” 

“We’re already going to Sakusa,” Ran snaps, “You lost 150K of product, even if it was a genuine mistake which,” Ran shakes his head, “You’re far too smart to think I buy that bullshit. You’ve been skimming off the top for years, but this time you took it too far, so we’re going to Sakusa.” A vein in Rodrigo’s forehead pulses. “Give me your contact and I won’t have my men kill your fucking family.” He drops your hand and takes a back towards the table. Rodrigo looks frozen, your own hands are trembling in a way you hope isn’t visible. “I know where your wife gets her nails done,” Ran says, eyes narrowed, “I know which window in your apartment your son sleeps underneath. You’ll give me the contacts.” A bead of sweat rolls down Rodrigo’s face. “Coulda played nice,” Ran coos, which is somehow more terrifying than his anger. “Coulda had a nice dinner, but you decided to push me. Was that smart?” Ran takes another step forward, Rodrigo is looking anywhere but at him. “I said, was that fucking smart?” He darts around the table when Rodrigo doesn’t respond and the other man speaks quickly.

“No, sir.” Rodrigo manages, and Ran breaks into a wide smile, drawing his weapon and whipping it across the man's face, blood spurting into the white tablecloth. 

“What was that?” Ran repeats, still sounding like a teacher reprimanding a child. 

“I said,” Rodrigo doesn’t look up, his voice small and broken, “No sir.” 

“This isn’t fucking amateur hour.” Rans's eyes darken. “There is one fucking way you walk outta here with a heartbeat, and it’s if you give up who you’re working with.” Rodrigo is sweating, you can see it glistening on his cheeks in the candlelight. Your heart thrums in your chest. “I just wanted to have one normal night out with my girl,” Ran sighs. “Sorry, sweetheart, that daddy’s friends don’t have any manners.” 

“That’s alright.” You chirp, you’re settling into a strange cool calm as if you’re far away from your body. Ran can handle this. Ran can handle anything. You know he can. “I can go outside and get Isami and Yuuta?” You offer.

“Nah,” Ran shrugs, smiling widely, lips pulled back over sharp teeth, and he shoots the gun, the silencer doing little to help with the immediate popping sound, the bullet entering Rodrigo’s shoulder, blood spatters on the tablecloth. “We got what, three minutes before your men get here?” Ran says, as Rodrigo swears violently, “‘Cept, are they coming? Because,” he shoots him again, this time in the thigh, blood staining the man's white shirt, “Maybe I got to ‘em first.” 

“Fuck you,” Rodrigo spits some blood on the floor, “I’m not saying shit.” Ran sighs deeply, cocking the gun again. “You’re all fucked,” he spits again, “Bonten is over, you just don’t realize it yet.” 

“Do I look over ?” Ran snarls, and in one short movement, he shoves the table over, wine staining the white carpet, glasses shattering. “I’m not fucking around,” he moves so quickly you’re not entirely sure you even saw him go, but when you blink he’s got the barrel of his gun pressed to Rodrigo’s forehead. “150K of missing product and you think I came here without backup? Without suspicion?” 

“You-” Rodrigo is struggling to breathe at this point, frozen, his eyes flick to you, “You brought your-” 

“She can handle herself,” Ran says, and his tone cuts like a knife. “Don’t you even fuckin’ look at her, you goddamn coward. Jesus Christ,” he presses the barrel harder, “Tell me. You’re gonna tell me right fucking now.” You hear movement, a crash in the hallway, but Ran ignores it. “Tell me who’s coming for us,” the noises get louder, and you hear Yuuta shout. Ran leans forward, “You think I won’t kill you,” he hisses, “You think I would hesitate to get your brains all over this pretty white room, but I don’t give a shit .” There’s another moment, and you hear Rodrigo choke out a sob, you stand up as he says, 

“It’s, it’s not just,” the tears fall from his eyes, “Please, don’t fucking shoot me, Haitani, I, if I give them up they’ll-” 

“I will sleep so fucking well tonight,” Ran says, ice cold, fully calm. “I don’t care what happens to you.” 

“I, it’s not just Yagami,” He says, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, “It’s, it’s all of them-” The doors burst open and you let out a gasp of pain as Yuuta plucks you up off the ground and throws you over his shoulder. 

“We gotta go,” He says, and Ran sighs. “Car’s out back.” 

“Fine.” Ran shoots Rodrigo one more time, in the opposite shoulder and this time the man yells. Yuuta turns on his heels and in the hallway you watch Isami’s hand collide with a man’s face, his blood flecking the white walls of the restaurant, and nonsensically your mind flies to the thousand-dollar bottle of wine that was now pooling on the carpet. The three of you leave quickly out the back, Isami following, you leap into the car and the tires squeal as Isami drives off. Yuuta hands you immediately to Ran, who fumbles with his Juul, angrily taking a puff, and yanking you half into his lap. 

“Fuckin’ liked that restaurant.” He grumbles, annoyed. He tosses the Juul in a cupholder as the car speeds through the city. His phone rings in his pocket. He answers without a greeting. 

“Alfizzi’s fuckin’ dirty, have Koko officially move us to Sakusa.” 

“Shit,” you hear Rindou’s voice on the other end of the phone. “What the hell happened?” Ran digs his fingers into your hip. 

“Weirdest fuckin’ thing, he essentially confessed,” Ran says, shaking his head, “Dangled information in front of me like I wouldn’t shoot him in his own goddamn restaurant for crossing me.” He rolls his eyes. 

“You shot him in his own-” 

“We got out already.” Ran says quickly, “I’ll lay low for a bit but he’s not stupid enough to go to the cops,” he holds you tightly, “You at the offices?” 

“Yeah,” Rin says, “Hold on, Mikey and Sanzu are still here.” You hear some muffled movement on the end and the click of the phone being put on speaker. “Alfizzi crossed us,” Rindou explains, bursting into the room where Mikey and Sanzu are working, or more accurately, Mikey is clicking through emails and Sanzu is napping on the couch. 

“Oh shit?” Sanzu rubs his eyes. 

“Ran got out,” Rindou explains, “But he said Alfizzi’s in bed with the Silver Dragons.” You tug Ran’s sleeve in the limo, having something to tell him, but he brushes you off. 

“Yeah,” Ran jumps in, “He brought up uh,” Ran hesitates, and you see an emotion you’re unfamiliar with cross his face. “He brought up Osanai. And Honda Amaya, and uh, Yagami of course.” 

“Haitani,” You can picture Mikey frowning. “Did you have to make a scene?” Ran rolls his eyes in the car, squeezing you affectionately. 

“In this case, I actually minimized the damage boss,” He shrugs, taking another puff of his Juul, “My fault for not just putting a bullet in his head the second I thought he’d turned on us a few months ago.” 

“I didn’t know you were capable of restraint,” Mikey says dryly, and Ran laughs, you look down at the red spots on your dress, unsure if they’re blood or wine. 

“I’ve got a girl to come home to now,” Ran quips, “I’m a changed man.” You hear a rush of static on the other end of the phone. “You want me to come by?” 

“No.” Mikey stares out the window. “No, go to bed. We can talk tomorrow.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ran says, and Mikey hangs up. Ran turns his attention back to you, tugging your soft body into his lap protectively. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs. “But you weren’t afraid there, were you?” You look up at him, twisting in his arms to meet his cool gaze. 

“No, sir.” You whisper. 

“Why’s that?” He says, hand settling on your hip, as always he touches you with little regard for the other men in the car. You think about your answer, before taking his free hand in both of yours, and bringing it to your chest like a child might hold a security blanket. 

“As long as you’re here,” you hold his gaze, “I know I don’t have to be afraid.” Surprise breaks over him for a moment before it melts into a smirk and he leans down and kisses your forehead. 

“That’s my girl.” His hand slips from your waist to push your skirt up, and your breath hitches in your throat, was he about to touch you in front of his men, did he want- your thoughts are cut off when you realize he’s touching the gun strapped to your thigh. “Safety’s still on.” 

“You said to ask permission before using it.” You answer, feeling Yuuta’s eyes on your back. 

“I did.” He shrugs, withdrawing his hand. “Just surprised you listened, since you grabbed Rin’s gun.” A thought bubbles to the surface of your mind, but you don’t speak it. Ran reads the hesitation on your face. “You can say it, sweetheart.” 

“I, I don’t belong to Rindou.” You say softly, so quietly it’s almost lost in the hum of the engine. Ran chuckles darkly. 

“No. No, you don’t.” 

_________

The next few days are calmer, you don’t have any missions or any work at all. You tail Ran at the office, doing your best to be invisible. He doesn’t let you stray far, he keeps you close whenever possible, tucking you against his chest when Sanzu’s eyes linger on your body, when Kokonoi scowls in your general direction. You spend the nights in his bed, and that’s where you are when you can sense his mind drifting far away from you. You scoot up on his chest, twisting your body in a way you haven’t been able to since you met him for the first time, feeling only a morsel of the previous pain that would have accompanied such a movement. 

“I,” He starts, rubbing circles in your back. “I like having you here.” You hum softly, holding onto him tightly. “Sit up for me.” He pats his thighs and you straddle him obediently, “Pretty girl,” he coos, reaching up and cupping your face, and you nuzzle against his hand affectionately. 

“I like being here.” You whisper, and he pulls you down, crushing you against his chest, “Thank you.” He hums. 

“You feeling better?” He asks, and you nod. “Good ‘cause uh, Mikey’s insisting you learn how to fight.” You stiffen against him, eyes wide. “Yeah, it’s par for the course. I know you’re a good shot,” he pats your back, “But uh, I don’t like it. I got overruled.” 

“Oh.” You whisper. 

“Rin’s gonna be real gentle with you,” Ran grumbles, “Or I’m gonna kick his fuckin’ ass.” 

He shakes his head. You realize this is an admission of sorts, that he seems more present after sharing it. That worries your physical safety was enough to keep him awake. 

“You want me to get you a pill,” you offer, and he nods, kissing your cheek. 

“You take one too.” You reach into his nightstand and brush past his loaded Glock, taking 

two purple pills, placing one of them in Ran’s mouth, and the other on your own tongue. He pulls you down again, and rolls half on top of you, burying his face in your neck. 

“Hate it when they look at you.” He mutters. “I fuckin’ hate it. You’re so goddamn lucky we didn’t meet while you were working, I’d have killed everyone else scheduled to see you that day.” You shiver, and he ignores it. 

“Daddy,” you whisper, and fuck, your soft little voice in the darkness drives him insane. “I, I wouldn’t want you to hurt anyone on my behalf, and I know it’s not my choice and you’ll do what you want, I know.” He nods, half opening his eyes to look down at you. “But I don’t, if it’s ever up to me, I don’t want you to.” 

“Okay,” he breathes, “Okay, baby.” He squeezes you. “Okay.” 

____

“I,” you swallow, even though he’s shorter than Ran, Rindou towers over you, eyes narrowed and impatient. “Are you sure this is necessary?” He nods, a single tendril of purple hair flopping from his headband onto his forehead as he crouches into a fighting stance. You’re at a gym that Bonten owns, and you’d assumed you’d be able to stretch, maybe run on a treadmill, but Rindou had immediately ferried you right to a back room with a mat on the ground. 

“You need to learn how to fight for your own good.” He says. “If you’re not gonna listen to me when I tell you to run,” you bite back your response, that he didn’t in fact, tell you to run. “If you’re gonna be reckless you gotta learn to handle shit.” You nod. Your hair is tied away from your face, and for the first time in days, you can stand without pain. 

“O-okay, am I, am I standing right?” You ask, and he softens a little, moving to correct your stance. His hands only briefly brush your hips. Sanzu and Mikey are in the corner, Mikey’s stretching and Sanzu’s curling a barbell, but you feel like you have their attention. 

“So if I swing at you,” Rindou says, “What are you going to do?” You press your lips together. 

“Um, duck?” 

“Sure.” He nods. “Let’s try it.” He swings a fist at you slowly, and you drop down underneath his hand before your heart breaks into a sprint and instinct overrides you. You spring up, pushing off the ground and punching Rindou under the chin with a hard uppercut. He looks at you, shocked, for just a second, before the life leaves his eyes and he crumples to the floor. 

“Oh god!” You cry out, and immediately Sanzu and Mikey are at your side, Mikey pulls you backward and Sanzu kneels and presses his fingers to the side of Rindou’s neck. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just instinct took over, I-” Sanzu cuts you off with a high-pitched cackle.

“Have you ever been in a fight,” Mikey says, turning to you, his grip on your arm iron. He watches you swallow and fidget. 

“I, I, my dad went to jail and it was, it was in the news I, people, um, they tried to, tried to say things to my brother about it, they'd um, they’d find me at recess but it’s been years, I, god Rindou I’m so sorry,” Rindou struggles to a seated position. “Sorry, sorry, sorry-” Sanzu snorts. 

“Nah,” He grins, his scars rippling around his mouth. “Nah, C’mon, get up Rin.” 

“Fuck off.” Rindou snarls, pushing to his feet. “I was going easy on you.” 

“I, I know,” you stammer, “I’m, I’m sure, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Stop apologizing.” Mikey snaps, and your mouth shuts. “Like this.” Mikey adjusts your stance. “Rindou, back off.” 

“I can-” Rindou starts and Mikey scowls. Rindou matches his expression but flashes his palms and steps away. 

“You won’t be able to hit me,” Mikey says quietly. “Let’s try this.” He moves in front of you on the mat, and sees your hands shaking. “You won’t, you won’t be able to.” You nod, still unsure. You take a deep breath, and Rindou and Sanzu watch, equally trepidatious. 

“Ran’s gonna blow his lid if anyone lays a hand on her,” Rindou mutters. “Even if it’s Mikey.” 

“He didn’t say shit to me,” Sanzu says, smirking, and Rindou’s fist clenches in his pocket. “Course, how could he? And he won’t say shit to Mikey either.” Rindou rubs his sore jaw. “Because he knows his place, and you do too.” Rindou doesn’t respond, watching the way you square your hips, leaning onto your heels. 

“Hit me,” Mikey says quietly. “Go ahead.”  You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, and instinct overtakes you once more, you reach one hand out like lightning, and for a millisecond Mikey’s not sure if he’ll be able to block it, for a fraction of a breath he wonders if he’ll let you hit him, wonders if he wants to feel the pain you could cause him before he knocks your hand away effortlessly. Your jaw sets, you knew it, knew you couldn’t be that good. “Interesting.” He says softly, glancing at Sanzu across the room, and you see the scarred man break into a wide smile, blue eyes practically glowing in the shadow of his brow. “Again,” Mikey says, and the two of you square up, sparring for the better part of an hour, before your chest is heaving and your thighs start to ache. He seems unphased, if you didn’t know better you’d swear the corners of his mouth turn up in almost, amusement. Rindou takes his phone out. 

Rindou: your bitch packs a punch

Ran: not my sweet little baby

Rindou: your sweet little baby practically dislocated my jaw Ran: LMFAO NO FUCKEN WAY

Ran: god thats hot 

Rindou: yeah well you know who else thinks its hot? Mikey. 

Ran: ….

Rindou: they’ve been sparring for almost an hour, she looks like she’s about to collapse. 

Ran: well fucking say something she’s still recovering Ran: or should I come down there, if you can’t handle it? Rindou: I can! I can handle it. It’s not about what I can  handle. 

Ran: if Mikey wants her he’ll take her and then lose her like he loses his keys. She’ll be back in my bed in a week, I’m not concerned. 

Ran: she knows what’s good for her. 

Rindou: She asked me on the way over here when she can see her brother

Ran: shit yeah

Ran: I wanna take her but Mikey doesn’t want any of us leaving town. 

Rindou: can you send her with Isami and Yuuta?

Ran: yeah if I wanted them both dead lmfao i could do that 

Ran: she’ll wait. I’ve got a surprise for her, anyway. She’s gonna be tired yeah? 

Rindou: If she doesn’t sleep the whole way home I’ll be shocked. 

Ran: that’s a good girl. 

While everyone showers up, Sanzu takes out his phone, standing in just a white fluffy towel in the mens locker room. Sanzu: yo hakkai

unknown number: what the hell do you want 

unknown number: I thought I told you if I ever saw you again you'd be dead. 

sanzu: I need a favor

unknown number: fuck straight off 

sanzu: better turn that frown upside down

sanzu: unless you want everyone to know what I know. 

fracture II

haitani ran x f!reader

summary - you spend the day at bonten headquarters, and ran makes a choice.

cw - drugs, smut, guns, murder, praise, degradation, dub!con, reader is a sex worker w a sick brother. ran likes you!!! likes you a lot!! too much probably, probably far too much. he's possessive! and ill behaved! my beloved.

prev / next

You sleep with him, and he curls his long body around you, burying his face in your shoulder. When he moves in the night he pulls you with him, and when you wake you find your face in his chest, his hands tangled in your hair. He stretches, picking his phone up off the nightstand, then glancing back over at you, bleary eyed. You’re still bruised, and the side of your face is even worse than the day before with the marks jaundicing slightly as they heal. He reaches out and brushes some hair from your face. You stir, and he leans over, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Ready for work?” He asks and you nod, even though you have no idea what he means. You’re still in no shape to have sex, or even to pleasure anyone else. He gets up and thumps off to the bathroom, tossing you a gigantic shirt to wear. “You’re coming into the office with me.” He says brightly, “Since apparently you can’t be left alone.” You sit up, the shirt covers most of your body, hanging down around mid thigh. 

“Do you have my suitcase?” You ask and he shrugs. 

“I think you look good like that.” He says casually, and you shake your head. 

“I, I, I need pants,” you manage, “I need-” 

“I said I think you look good like that.” He responds, shooting you an icy glare. You shut your mouth. “Good girl,” he coos, reaching for the bottle of pills, “Open.” You let him place the small purple pill on your tongue. He leans down and kisses your forehead as you let it dissolve. He pulls you to the bathroom and you brush your hair, applying minimal makeup, not bothering to try to cover the bruising, which looks even worse today. You catch Ran looking at you with mild concern, catch the way his eyes flick to the little cut on your face, to the bruises around your neck and down your chest, but he doesn’t say anything. 

You’re followed out of the apartment and into the elevator by at least four heavily armed men, and on your way to the office they open doors for you both, drive cars, walk in front of you and behind you. Ran boosts you up into the backseat of a sleek black escalade. He pulls you most of the way into his lap and you shiver, nuzzling into him for warmth, the cold piercing right through the shirt he’d given you.

“It’s freezing.” You whisper, and he wraps two arms around you, tucking your face into his neck. 

“I know, just get close to me.” He says, his voice is almost kind. If you were more sober maybe you’d wonder if he’d done this on purpose, kept you almost naked and vulnerable so that you’d be forced to hide and take refuge in him. Instead, you watch a light snow fall outside the car, feeling the circles he’s rubbing in your thigh. Bonten’s offices are above an old Italian restaurant, and he leads you through it, letting you hide your face from the waitstaff in his big blue suit jacket. You come up the stairs right behind him, holding onto his hand for stability, his silver rings cool on your skin.  The stairway is narrow and carpeted, and the office seems normal enough if it weren’t for the constant presence of security, the oddly expensive looking art on the wall, the little minifridges filled with booze, monster and red bull, and the slight smell of cigar smoke. 

“And who’s this?” You hear, and peek out from behind Ran. A huge man, tall and thin with dark hair gives you a predatory smile. 

“Bitch shot two guys in my apartment,” Ran says, fumbling in his pocket for his vape, patting you affectionately with his free hand. “I dunno what they’re after me for this time but I told her she could stay with me till shit calms down.” 

“Hanma Shuuji,” the tall man says, extending a tattooed hand. You reach out and accept it, taking just the slightest step away from Ran, and revealing more of your face. “What the hell happened to you?” He recoils initially, then bursts out laughing. “Didja learn to fight from Haitani or something?” 

“Shut up.” Ran snips, pulling you away from Hanma. 

“She fights better than Ran,” you hear, and see a younger man, with long pink purple hair framing his face. He has the same gentle sloping nose as Ran and the same light eyes. “She actually hit the guys she was shooting at.” 

“I, I wasn’t,” you pipe up, and then wonder if you should have asked permission to speak, “I didn’t mean to hit anyone, sir.” Ran takes a puff on his vape, rolling his eyes as he’s momentarily overtaken by a grape flavored cloud. 

“You got your ass kicked a lot, Rin, I don’t wanna hear shit from you, and you,” he turns to Hanma, “Don’t scare the bitch, she’s gotta get back to work for us when she’s all healed up.” He hits you lightly on the back of the head. “Got an email from your boss on the way over here, she said your regulars are complaining.” 

“Let ‘em complain.” Hanma says, smiling again in a way that feels distinctly unwarm, his stare making you shiver.

“That is bad for business.” Ran says, tugging you along the hallway and away from the other executives. You feel the purple haired man, Rin, Ran had called him, you feel eyes on you, sure that in the fluorescents Ran’s shirt was translucent. “C’mon. You gotta meet the others, they’ve each got their fun little thing.” Ran pulls you into what looks almost like a conference room, but you’re 90% sure there’s a woman's thong sitting casually on the table in between an empty scotch glass and an ashtray. Rindou and Hanma follow you inside, and Ran makes a show of introducing you to people. “That’s Kokonoi, he likes money more than he likes people. That’s Sanzu, he likes drugs more than he likes people, and Mikey, over there, more than he likes drugs. Mikey doesn’t like anything, and neither does Kakucho.” 

“Are you finished?” Mikey says, leaning forward in his chair, scowling. Ran just shrugs. You take a step back from the blond, his dark eyes covered in shadow. 

“I don’t think so,” Ran rubs his chin, “Did I introduce you to Rin or did he just insult me?” 

“Haitani Rindou,” the purple haired man says, stepping into the room and rolling his eyes. “Now she’s met me, can we sit down?” Ran sighs dramatically, plopping into a chair and yanking you into his lap hard enough to make you gasp with pain, a sound that the group largely ignores. Mikey, however, frowns.

“I’d prefer you not make her do that again.” He says, and you look up at him but he’s holding Ran’s gaze, not yours. “What happened?” The others take a seat around the table, some of them are drinking, and some of them look crumpled and disheveled like they’re still up from the party the night before. 

“Someone broke into one of our establishments,” Ran says, “Tried to kill her to send a message to me,” he glances down at you, “But she’s tougher than she looks, he about kicked the shit outta her but she stabbed him.” 

“Is that why she’s in your lap?” Kokonoi says dryly. “So that if she stabs someone this time it’s you?” 

“She’s in my lap because I want her there.” Ran says, still in his lazy drawl but with a dark undercurrent. 

“Keep going.” Mikey says, sounding bored. 

“I took her back to my place, for obvious reasons,” you’re still half hidden in his chest, “Can ya look at the people, sweetheart?” You nod, and obey, turning your face fully out from his chest for the first time. You get the sense that even in a room full of people who’ve seen terrible things, done terrible things, your face still looks pretty bad. 

“Embarrassing.” Kakucho mutters eventually. “Hitting someone who can’t possibly fight back.” Ran shrugs. 

“I mean you can’t say all the fights I picked were fair but I did win them.” He grins, “You can go back to hiding, I’ll let you know if you need to speak.” They all watch as you obey, still high, wrapping the inside of his jacket around yourself. “Anyway, she came back to my place, I asked for two decent guys,” he glances at Rindou, “Which I thought my dear brother was capable of providing,” Rindou scowls, “But someone broke in, kicked the shit out of them, and she shot ‘em.” Mikey rubs his eyes. 

“And they seemed only interested in you, not in us?” He asks, and Ran gives you a little nudge. 

“They said it was about something he did in Roppongi.” You murmur, peeking out to look at Mikey. 

“That could be almost anything.” Kokonoi takes a sip of his drink, it’s cherry red, and you imagine it’s syrupy and sweet. “And nothing to do with you?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Piss off one of your johns, princess?” You open your mouth to speak but Ran chuckles. 

“She’s actually very well reviewed.” He says, and you feel your face burn. “But don’t get your hopes up boys, she’s got three broken ribs.” 

“I mean,” Sanzu speaks for the first time. “We could get her high enough so that she doesn’t feel it.” You shrink even further into Ran. 

“Every day that she’s not in her little room downtown we are bleeding money.” Ran shakes his head. “Which is why I would like to find these people quickly.” He slides some paper across the table. “I think honestly I know who it is.” Rindou looks up. “I mean, who hates me personally more than Daito.” 

“Hmmm,” Rindou rubs his chin, and for a moment you’re struck with the mannerism of Ran’s he’s unconsciously mimicking. “Daito Yagami, shit.” 

“Are the two of you speaking in your own cute little language or do we all get to know what’s happening?” Hanma drawls. 

“We killed his brother.” Ran explains, “When I was sixteen.” He feels you tense in his lap, “Oh baby,” he coos, looking down at you, “Does that scare you?” You don’t respond and he chuckles. “I’d never hurt anything as defenseless as you.” You don’t look convinced and there are a few laughs from the group. “I’ll have my men look into that, but it could be new rivals, could be Taiju, or somethin’ else entirely.” He leans back in the rolling chair, testing to see if you’ll keep taking refuge in him. You do, following his movements no matter how he shifts. They spend the meeting planning something but you’re too high to hear what’s happening. You’ve got two little fistfuls of Ran’s shirt, he’s got one hand on the back of your head, petting it softly. “Sweetheart,” he says, and you’re not sure how long it’s been when you blink back to reality, the light in the room has changed and there are more drinks on the table, more cigs in the ashtray. You blink a couple times. 

“She’s fuckin’ gone.” Sanzu mutters. You rub your good eye, head pounding. 

“You hungry?” Ran asks, and you nod dumbly. “You want another pill?” You nod again and he digs in the pocket of his suit jacket, producing the bottle. He takes a pill out and you open your mouth, he puts it directly on your tongue, and before it can even dissolve you’re back to hiding in his jacket. 

“You’re gonna have to give her back,” Mikey says coolly, “If she’s really as high an earner as you say she is.” Ran shrugs. 

“I’m thinking about promoting her.” He shrugs. “Considering she’s technically already completed initiation.” Kakucho looks troubled, but Mikey leans forward, his thoughts plain on his face. 

“She could probably come and go from different places without being suspected,” he muses, “Of course, when she’s not,” he gestures to the bruises visible all over, “Like this.” He stands, “Sanzu, Haitani and I have some business, you’ll watch the girl.” 

“I don’t think she’ll go with him.” Ran says quickly. 

“I said he’d watch her.” Mikey says coolly, eyes narrowing. “Is there a problem?” The room drops several degrees in temperature, all conversation stops. Ran doesn’t appear affected by it though. He shrugs. 

“Let’s give it a shot, boss.” He peels you off of his lap, your eyes go wide with fear. “You’re gonna hang with Sanzu, baby, can you handle that?” You frown. “Gonna miss me?” He teases, but you hear the implicit threat and answer immediately. 

“Yes.” You whisper. He cackles, pushing you towards Sanzu. You crash hard against his chest, and he rights you without care for your injuries and you suck in a sharp breath at his touch to your waist.

“Why,” Mikey pinches the bridge of his nose, “Haitani why isn’t she wearing pants?” Ran takes a puff on his vape before responding. 

“Because I didn’t give her pants to wear.” He grins, turning to Sanzu. “Try and keep her in one piece for me?” Sanzu grins, lifting you off your feet, cradling you to his chest. 

“And shoes, Haitani.” Mikey seems genuinely annoyed. “It’s snowing.” 

“If you care so much, do something about it.” Ran takes another drag on his vape, “Are we gonna go or nah?” Mikey nods, leading the lavender haired man out of the room. Sanzu bounces you like you’re a child he’s trying to soothe. He smells different than Ran, sweeter, a honeyed smoke. 

“Haitani’s little plaything,” he says softly, and you lift your head to look at him. His eyes are a crystal clear blue, light and haunting as a wide open sky. You feel him looking at your bruise, examining your injuries as the rest of the men file out. “Losing a fight’s no fun, huh?” He says and you nod, unsure if you’re being encouraged to make conversation with him. You don’t have to wonder long because he looks away and carries you out of the conference room, down the hall. He has his own office. The desk is a mess of papers, there’s a couch and coffee table, and a window with the blinds closed. He sits you on top of the papers, and you blink a few times, trying to focus. Your head is spinning, this feels stronger, different from the painkillers.

“What,” you mumble, and realize your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, “What did he, what did he give me?” Sanzu glances at you and shrugs. 

“Dunno.” He says, and you run your fingers through your hair, trying to focus. “Don’t fight it though,” he advises, “Just relax and enjoy sweetheart.” You take a deep breath, your nails digging half moons into the skin of your palm. “You eaten?” You shake your head. He picks up the phone on his desk and you think he orders food, but you’re not entirely sure, floating in and out of the conversation. 

“Sitting up hurts, please, god.” You barely manage the words, your voice tight and pinched, and evidently you’ve interrupted him mid sentence because he cocks his head at you.

“I fucking forgot,” he cackles, “That’s what I told Ran I wanted bitches to call me,” he laughs like a hyena, running his fingers through his already wild cotton candy colored hair, “Whaddya want me to do about that?” You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“I,” you take a gulp of air. “I could lie down on the floor.” He cackles again, but the offer was genuine, you start to move. He gets up quickly, stopping you. 

“I was kidding, I,” He helps you onto your feet but you can’t tell if he’s purposely touching your tender spots or if he’s genuinely clumsy, and you can’t bite back the gasp of pain that rushes from your lips as he guides you by the waist to the soft leather sofa. You curl into the fetal position, tears sparking in your eyes, every sensation heightened as Sanzu squats down next to you, studying you for a moment before brushing some hair from your face.

“So sweet,” he coos, “Sweet little girl.” You moan softly, it feels nice and safe. “Does it hurt baby?” He asks. 

“Mhm.” You whimper. He keeps playing with your hair, like he’s fixated on it, sitting on the ground next to you while you float in and out of consciousness. You’re not sure how long he does it for, the repetitive motion and the drugs is making you feel soft and warm. It must be a long time, because when your eyelids flutter open the light has changed and he’s still there, scrolling through his phone with one hand and massaging your scalp with the other.

“Why did you do it?” He asks, so quietly you nearly ask him to repeat himself. 

“Do what?” 

“Why didn’t you stop fighting?” He asks, and he holds your eyes, stare intense but not cold. 

“In, in my room I,” you sigh, “I just, when he said he was going to kill me I could have screamed,” you roll onto your back, eyes drifting shut. “I had a moment where I could have screamed, and someone would have come.” He withdraws his hand from you. “But I couldn’t find my voice, I,” you laugh lightly and then moan in pain as it blooms uncomfortably in your chest, “I reached for it but I was so afraid I couldn’t speak. So I decided I’d have to save myself.” Sanzu nods. You reach up and run your fingers through your hair. 

“Haitani called you a tough bitch.” He says, and you look at him again, pressing your lips together. “You don’t like that, being called a bitch?” 

“I’m not strong.” You clarify in a high pitched whisper. “Just, just trying not to die, I, I have people, people I care about.” He nods absentmindedly, setting his phone on the table and reaching down to touch your bare thigh, you hear him grunt a little as he stands. He pushes your legs apart, and you feel his fingers on your panties. “I, I don’t know if, If Mr. Haitani-” 

“I don’t care.” Sanzu interrupts you, and you feel him slip them to the side. “I’m just looking, anyway,” you feel him part your folds and you try to sit up but you can’t. “Do you not want me to, sweetheart?” He asks, and you shiver. 

“I’m afraid it’s going to hurt, god.” You whisper, and he chuckles. 

“Of course it’s going to hurt,” He coos, “It’s definitely going to hurt.” Your eyes widen. “Shhh,” he breathes, “Shhh, if you’re gonna cry don’t get too loud, I, I’ll try to be gentle, I will.” You swallow, steeling yourself, closing your eyes as your hands curl into fists, your nails digging half moons in your palms. You feel him part your thighs, and can’t even conjure the embarrassment at being so casually on display, “Such a pretty pussy.” He says, marveling at you. “You work for Bonten, you know that kinda makes you my property.” You don’t respond. “Kinda makes this pussy,” he mutters to himself, as he pushes two fingers inside you, “Kinda makes this pussy my property, what do you think about that?” You breathe in slowly, but you know an order when you hear one. 

“P-please,” you muster, “Please use your pussy, god.” He cackles again, utterly tickled at the sacrilege. 

“Are you damaging our property?” You hear a new voice, Rindou, and when you look at him he’s leaning against the door frame, an utterly neutral expression on his face. 

“Fuck off,” Sanzu says, without missing a beat, pulling a soft moan, half pain half pleasure from your lips. “M busy.” 

“She needs to go back to work.” Rindou presses, but you’re having trouble focusing on it. Sanzu shrugs. 

“Not my problem,” He leans over you, “Is it my problem sweetheart, no, no it isn’t.” He reaches out and cups your bruised face, “You’re gonna sit still while I use you, aren’t you baby?” You nod, gritting your teeth. Rindou sighs deeply, but feels the odd power dynamic at play, clearly more logical, clearly more centered but also, in Bonten, he’s clearly out ranked. “You wanna watch,” Sanzu grins, “You sick fuck.” 

“I want to make sure you don’t kill her.” Rindou protests, but you don’t have time to process that because Sanzu’s thrown your legs over his shoulder and is easing himself inside with a soft groan. 

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, watching the pain bloom on your face with his first thrusts, “Fuck that’s my girl, that’s my pretty girl, huh,” you let out a whimper and he picks up the pace, but you’re grateful he keeps from slamming his hips against yours, only jostling you a little bit. Tears still pool in your eyes, even as he reaches down and plays with your clit, even as you gasp and clench around him. 

Rindou’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t move, waiting for Sanzu to finish, unable to tear himself away from you. With the light coming in from the window it’s almost like a renaissance painting, Sanzu is beastly, tyrannical, scarred and wild, and you arch your back dutifully, unable to keep still, perfect lips parted as he coos praise at you, tears falling from your eyes. 

For you, the pain has given way to pleasure, and you’re lifting your hips to the best of your ability to meet him, his hands digging into your hips, occasionally reaching up to wipe some of your tears. 

“So sweet,” he coos, “So good for me, hm, is that why they like you so much, you’re a good girl?” You swallow, unable to respond, he doesn’t seem to expect you to. He lets out kind of a strangled snarl and pulls out, cumming onto his hand and grabbing a pile of napkins from his desk. You let out a low cry of pain as he lets your legs fall onto the couch, but try to focus on breathing. 

“Has she eaten?” You hear Rindou ask. 

“Oh shit,” Sanzu says, “I ordered food and then I ate it, nah you should probably take care of that.” You feel strong arms lift you up off the couch, tucking you into their chest. “Yeah just bring her back,” Sanzu says, tossing the napkins in his office garbage can. “I’m supposed to be watching her.” 

“Yeah.” Rindou shrugs. “Whatever.” You open your eyes and lean into Rindou’s chest, he carries you down the hallway and sets you on the couch in his office. You float out of your body, high out of your mind, and the last thing you feel is a blanket being tucked around your body. 

You hear his voice on the phone, arguing loudly with someone, something about billing and private information. You open your eyes just once, and he scowls at you, tucking the phone back into his neck. 

“Go back to sleep.” He snaps, and you do. 

____

“Oi,” you hear, “Heard you skipped lunch.” You open your eyes and Ran is in front of you, his shirt somehow even more unbuttoned than it had been earlier, a single tuft of purple hair flopping on his forehead. You struggle into a seated position, feeling a bit better, he pushes something into your hands and you hear a crackle of plastic. It’s dark out, but the office is light in the hallway, you glance around Rindou’s office, wondering if he turned off the light so you could sleep. 

“Thank you, sir.” You whisper, and peel the plastic off of the onigiri, stomach growling. Ran nods, inspecting you. Even after a few hours, you look a bit better, eyes more clear, bruises having retreated even by a degree. 

“Look good,” he grins, plopping on the couch next to you. “Know what we’re gonna do tonight?” You shake your head. “You up for a party?” He boops your nose. “You’re my plus one.” You look down at your clothes, you’re still dressed in his shirt and you have no idea what Sanzu did with your panties. “We’ll change at my place, I had them send over some options.” He stands, and lifts you, putting you on his hip like a child, one arm hooked around your waist. “Hold onto my neck,” he instructs, and you feel his gun in its holder on his belt, digging into your thigh. “Let’s go.” He leads you through the office, which is largely empty. You pass a room where Mikey and Kokonoi seem to be having some kind of argument, and you catch the blonde’s dark eyes for a moment as you pass, shivering and hiding in Ran’s shoulder. Ran looks down at you, about to speak, when the conference room door opens behind you. 

“Wait.” You recognize Mikey’s voice even before Ran turns around, adjusting your weight on his hip. 

“What’s up, boss?” Ran says, oozing nonchalance in a way that feels nearly, like it could be, just a degree performative. There’s something about the way he says boss, maybe it’s the pop of the b sound, the hiss of the ss. You can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“I promoted you.” He says, holding eye contact with you. You swallow. “You won’t be going back to your,” he pauses, and you wonder if he’s avoiding the word whore, avoiding the word slut, avoiding the word prostitute. “Previous employment.” He says eventually. “Haitani has informed me you have some debts that we’ve taken care of.” You raise your eyebrows, looking sharply up at Ran, whose face remains placid and unreadable. “You’re now,” a little smile, “An executive assistant. Better pay, healthcare, no more spreading your legs for men with money.” Your mouth goes dry, you wonder if he expects you to thank him. You find your voice. 

“Thank you, Mikey.” You say softly, and feel Ran tightens his grip on you. Mikey shrugs. 

“Technically,” He gives you a lazy smile, “You completed our initiation ritual twice, in protection of an executive, and ah, the men whose lives you saved now report to you.” 

“I, I won’t know what to do,” you blurt, and Ran gives you a squeeze. 

“I gotcha, sweetheart.” he says. “That it boss? Idiots forgot to give her anything to eat all day.” Mikey sighs deeply. 

“Of course they did.” He shrugs. “No. Whatever. See you tonight.” Ran turns and takes you back out through the restaurant. You hide your face in his chest again, conscious of how much of your bruised body is on display. He helps you into a car and the driver takes off, you feel his lips on your cheek as the engine purrs. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, sitting you on his lap so that you’re facing him on your knees. 

“Better, sir.” You say softly, and he takes your face in two large hands and kisses you, it’s soft and deft, he moves with more skill than you expect, and you’re suddenly reminded that he’s a few years older than you, as you feel one of his hands cup your ass, you feel the cool of his rings through your shirt. He hums with satisfaction, pulling away and tucking you into his chest. 

“I don’t care, by the way, that Sanzu touched you.” he says, one hand on the back of your head as he pushes your face into his neck. You stiffen, in your experience, that usually meant men did care, very much. “It’ll never happen again.” Ran says, still sounding calm, still speaking like he’s discussing the weather, or lunch plans. You snuggle into him, he’s so warm, and you’re freezing. “If anyone else touches you though,” he says, rubbing the back of your head, “I want you to tell me. Understand?” You nod. 

“Yes, sir.” Your head finally feels clear, and your ribs don’t ache as badly as they did that morning. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.” He leans back, holding you tightly. 

“What did you give me, today?” 

“Oh,” he has to think about it, “Mostly downers with a little upper to keep ya conscious, what’s up though, you want more?” You shake your head. “Aw, what’s wrong, didn’t like napping?”

“It was hard to focus,” you explain, “And I,” he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, genuinely holding him back for the first time since he’d first touched you, his heart hammers in his chest. “I want to focus, when I’m with you.” You feel his lips on the top of your head. 

“Can’t believe Sanzu couldn’t just get another fucking whore,” Ran complains, and the 

scent of artificial grape fills your nostrils, and you know he’s taken a hit of his vape. “Your fucking ribs are broken.” You don’t speak, understanding that likely you’re not supposed to. “Whatever, though,” he softens, and it seems genuine. You feel his 5 o’clock shadow prickling against your face as he swallows. He reaches up and squeezes your arm, feeling the way you’re genuinely clinging to him. 

“What happens now?” You mumble. 

“You’re my executive assistant,” He explains, “You’ll help me with my schedule, attend meetings with me, get me drinks when I tell you to get me drinks.” You don’t have to ask if that means you’ll be staying in his bed, sleeping at his apartment. “You’ll have some ah, men reporting to you, you can think of them like bodyguards but trust me I’ve threatened them within an inch of their life, they know what happens if they touch what’s mine.” Logically, that should make you nervous, you realize, that he was so possessive, so willing to threaten, but you only feel a warm relief spread across your chest. 

“Good.” You murmur, lifting your head, looking up at the only person who’d ever saved you from anything. The only person who’d ever bandaged your wounds, who’d ever cared if you’d eaten, ever cared if you’d rested.

“Yeah?” He says, a smile spreading across his face, his canines glinting as a panel of light passes over his face, the driver pulls up in front of his apartment complex but he doesn't move. You nod, and he runs his knuckles down your cheek, “Such a pretty girl,” he breathes, “Such a pretty, pretty girl.” You squirm with pleasure at his praise, and then wince. “Alright.” he grins, more businesslike. “Let’s getcha some food, and then dressed up, huh?” He ruffles your hair. “I wanna see how you clean up.” 

___ 

Security is omnipresent, you realize, they’re there in Ran’s kitchen, standing outside his bedroom, one of them, Shion, you’re told, stands with you in the bathroom as you style your hair, and attempt to paint makeup over your broken face. You don’t speak to him, afraid at first of getting him in trouble, and then the silence gets comfortable. Ran takes phone calls as he gets dressed, apparently Bonten is acquiring a few new warehouses and they’re haggling the price a bit lower. 

“It’s not a threat, Rodrigo,” You hear Ran say, through the bathroom door, you imagine him partially dressed, pacing in his bedroom. “It’s not a threat, it’s a statement of a fact, you don’t want to fuck us anymore than you wanna get fucked,” there’s a pause. “Tell ya what,” he says, “Tell ya what, let’s get dinner, tomorrow, bring your girl, and we’ll talk it through, see if we can’t come to an agreement.” He laughs, but it’s a joyless terrifying sound. “Well, we’ll see what happens after, we’ll see.” Ran pokes his head into the bathroom a moment later, you’re adjusting your eyeliner. 

“Sweetheart, we’ve got dinner plans tomorrow, don’t let me forget.” 

“Could I,” You turn to him, and his mouth waters, despite the constellation of bruises still visible, your form in the tight, red velvet wrap dress is positively intoxicating, your eyes are wide and a little fearful, he realizes what animal you remind him of now, doe eyed and skittish. “Could I get a notebook, something to write these things down in?” Ran shrugs, and glances at Shion. 

“Yeah, get her whatever she wants.” He says, shrugging, and Shion takes a phone out of his pocket, “You wanna meet your bitches, baby?” He coos, offering you an arm. You’re still barefoot, your dress drags on the floor but he smirks at the haste with which you move to be close to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You beam at him. He’s nearly dressed, for once in a full, dark suit and crisp white shirt. He’s so tall, you imagine everything has to be tailored and custom. He’s got another silver chain around his neck, his shirt only mostly buttoned, his hair coiffed. He shaved again, at some point, you realize, and he catches you staring. 

“Eyes up,” he says, directing your gaze out to his living room. You almost don’t recognize the space as the room you’d shot two men in, but you absolutely recognize your bodyguards. “Boys,” Ran drawls, “Think you might owe the lady something.” 

“Thank you.” The one of them with raven hair, and some kind of a panther tattoo on his neck steps forward, looking at the ground. “For saving my life.” 

“Thank you Yuuta!” Ran crows, and the first man, Yuuta, takes a step back. “And you, Isami, anything to share?” 

“Thank you,” the second man nods a bleach blonde head, “Thanks for saving my life.” 

“Good.” Ran says, grinning. “Now, if anything happens to her you know that neither of you has any use to me, correct?” 

“Yes sir.” They both say in unison. 

“And you know what happens to things that have no use to me?” Ran presses, rubbing a circle in your lower back as he casually threatens their lives. You lean into his touch. 

“Yes sir.” They say again. They’re both tall, you realize, though shorter than Ran, they’re more broad and muscular. 

“Regrettably, I can’t spend every minute of every day with you,” Ran explains, “But they will,” he pauses, glancing around, looking annoyed, “Didn’t she ask for a notebook? God.” he runs his fingers through his hair, and it’s another few minutes before a leather book is pressed into your hands. Ran takes another phone call before you leave and you wait for him on the couch, sitting in between the large men. You look up at them. 

“Ah, Yuuta, and Isami?” You ask, and they nod. “Okay,” you take a shallow breath. “Can I ask one of you to get me a drink, or do I-” Yuuta steps away immediately, returning in seconds with a glass of chilled white wine. “Oh, ah, I prefer whiskey, actually,” you look up at him and he shrugs. 

“Mr. Haitani specified what we’re allowed to give you.” He says and you chew the inside of your cheek, taking a sip of the wine. It’s grassy, maybe something from California, or southern France, you wonder if you’d live to see those places. It’s winter now, icy rain beating against Ran’s wall of windows, and you wonder, shivering, surrounded by these men with guns, if you’ll live to see spring, to feel a warm breeze again. Ran saunters back into the room before you can start to catastrophize, handing you something. It’s your cell phone. 

“A little embarrassing for you that there are no notifications besides work and your little otome game,” he teases, “But I assume based on the call history you call your brother most nights around 9PM.” 

“That’s right before he starts chemo.” You say softly, taking it in your hand. “He’ll be nervous that I didn’t call yesterday.” Ran sighs deeply. 

“Yes, well if Yuuta and Isami were capable of doing their jobs,” his words slice through the artificially heated air, “You’d have made that call.” You give him a little smile, and reach for him experimentally. He takes your hand, pulling you into his chest. 

“Be nice, maybe?” You try, looking up at him with just a bit of pleading in your face, he leans down and kisses you. 

“No,” he says when he pulls away, smiling widely in a way that conveys not a drop of warmth. “Lion can’t change its spots sweetheart.” You have one moment where you consider correcting him, but don’t bother. “How about, I don’t throw their worthless bodies in the river, and you,” he pauses mid sentence, kissing you again, “You just sit there and look pretty. I’ll be done soon.” You pout a little, sitting gently back down on the couch. 

“I’m not quite, pretty again.” You murmur, your bruised face fresh in your mind. He shrugs. 

“Look fine to me. Call your little brother.” You put on a big wool coat, it’s black with fur cuffs and a fur collar, you’d have to ask Ran if it would be possible to exchange it for something faux, wondering if he’d care. It’s freezing, and you’re barefoot, but you pad onto the stone, flanked by your new security. 

“Hey,” you hear, there’s a little crackle, reception in the hospital was always bad. “I was worried, when you didn’t call?” 

“Oh yeah,” you play it off, something about the warm familiarity of your brother's voice after the chaos of the previous days makes you want to cry. “I got into a bit of trouble, it worked out but ah, I got a new job.” 

“Really?” You hear him shift a little in bed. 

“Yeah, just admin work instead of cleaning, so um,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, “Scheduling, that kind of thing.” 

“You’ll be so great at that!” He says. “I’m, ah, I’m proud of you. I wish I could help out more, I know you’re really on your own right now.” 

“I’m not on my own,” you protest, just as Ran cracks the sliding door to the balcony to eavesdrop. “I’m not on my own, dummy I have you, and ah, I think with this job I might make some friends, so there.” 

“Who would want to be your friend?” He teases, and you both laugh.

“No idea.” You wrap an arm around your ribcage. “You feeling okay?” 

“Sure.” He says, “Sure never better.” 

“I’ll come see you,” you promise, “I’ve been saving up, it’s just a three hour train up to-” 

“I’m the reason you can barely afford a train ticket,” Your brother says, and Ran watches your face fall, “You don’t have to come see me.” 

“I want to.” You try. “I want to come see you, I’ll um, I’ll text you, okay?” 

“Yeah, alright, I’m um, I’m pretty tired.” He says, “They’re gonna take me in soon. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You barely get the words out before the phone goes dead. “Okay,” you say out loud to yourself, shivering in the cold, “Okay, I’m, I’m okay.” You glance over at the bodyguards and nearly catch Ran snooping but he ducks away just in time. “I’m alright to go back inside.” You say softly and one of them opens the door for you. The second you step back inside Ran sweeps you into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Would it be possible for me to um, to visit him?” You look up at the executive who remains inscrutable. Ran considers, possible, yes, but it was a bad time for him to leave Tokyo, and a worse time for you to be out of his sight for more than a few hours. 

“I’ll think about it.” He says. “It’s dangerous right now.” You nod, snuggling into him. “Are you worried about him?” He tries, testing the water, remembering the little whimpers you’d made that first night when he’d pressed on a bruise. 

“Yes, sir.” You don’t let go of Ran. “Also I need to know the details about the dinner tomorrow, so um, so I can make sure you remember.” He grins at you. 

“Of course.” 

_____ 

The party is loud, and there are cries of joy when Ran walks in, immediately some gigantic man embraces him, and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. You hold his gaze for a moment, and he offers you a wide smile. 

“What did you let happen to such a pretty little thing,” He says, speaking to Ran, who raises a single eyebrow before forcing a smile. “You know, all of my girls are-” 

“Routinely vaccinated against various viruses,” Ran cuts in, smirking, “I know.” 

“Haitani,” He shakes his head. “You never change, and you,” he looks back at you, “Can’t blame a man for trying.” 

“She’s actually my assistant.” Ran says smoothly, his grip on your shoulder tightening. “Not one of our girls.” 

“Ah, that’s not what I heard,” He releases your hand, “You can call me Benkeii.” His voice is deep, a little booming, you have to fight the urge to cower. He takes a step to the side. “Make your rounds and then come see me.” You get the impression he’s talking to Ran, even though his eyes haven’t left you. Ran nods, pulling forward into the crowd. There are rows of velvet booths with curtains, a populated dancefloor, and a dark wood bar that Ran pulls you to, ordering himself a scotch and another glass of white wine for you. He doesn’t ask you what you’d like, and you don’t comment on it, glancing at Yuuta and Isami behind you. Yuuta looks calm, if tired, and Isami looks annoyed, you wonder if bodyguards who resented their charge were worth anything. 

“Unfortunately I can’t babysit you the entire night,” Ran boops your nose, “And,” he takes a step forward, speaking in your ear. “You’re working.” You keep your face neutral, and then smile a little, as if he’d said something intimate. 

“Of course,” your drinks arrive, Ran intercepts them, inspecting yours before handing it to you. 

“I’ll letcha know what I need in a few,” he downs his drink, and pushes off into the crowd. As soon as his silhouette is obscured, your bodyguards step closer, and you wince. The wine is terrible, tasting sweetly cheap. 

“How are you feeling?” Yuuta leans down and speaks in your ear. “Are you in pain?” You nod, you can still feel the dull throbbing of your ribs and head but it’s not prohibitive. “We can find you a place to sit.” Yuuta points, and not for the first time, you notice how much they go out of their way not to touch you. Somehow, they guide you to a booth where you sit by yourself, staring out at the throng of people. Normally, if you were working, you’d be making conversation with the richest looking man in the room. The girls used to try and guess who that was, based on bespoke suits, jewelry, and pure aura. You’d never had much luck, despite your brief brush with childhood wealth you’d spent your life on the outside of that world looking in. You take another gulp of wine, and finish the glass, pushing it away from yourself to find it nearly immediately replaced by a passing waiter. One of the bodyguards takes it before you can, looking at it before handing it to you. You consider taking your phone out, you’re in too much pain to dance, not that it would be allowed you assumed. 

Your hands shake on the table, and you force the rest of the wine down, as you take a deep breath in through your nose. You see him then, indisputably, the richest man in the room. It’s not the suit, which has to be hand dyed, you decide, in order to get that purple that was nearly black, almost black, so deep and rich. It’s not the rings decorating his hands, or the flash of the heavy chain around his neck. It’s not the intricately beautiful tattoo work on his chest, curling up onto his neck. It’s not his posture, his smirk, his delicate features. 

No, it’s the way he looks at you, the way he returns your gaze like a panther in the forest, the way he sizes you up, the little smile, intensity burning in his eyes, barely visible under a mop of light blonde hair. It’s the way he walks to you, swagger is the wrong word, his movements are sure. Deft. Intentional. You’re fully aware that he’s walking across the room to speak with you, and the crowd parts for him, his lazy smile hiding the intensity of his presence. He holds a hand out to you, his eyes flicking to the bruises around your wrist and on your clavicle. 

“Wakasa Imaushi.” He says, and your bodyguards take a slight step to the side, allowing you to take his hand. “You look miserable.”

if you enjoyed pls consider commenting, reblogging or sending me a lil ask <3 thanks.

“spare me the details”

Pairing: matsukawa x fem!reader Genre: angst with a happy ending (i promise lmao), friends to lovers Summary: matsukawa is a good friend, which is why when you ask for his help figuring out what to wear for your date, he agrees without thinking much of it. but the longer he spends watching you get ready, the more he realizes how much he doesn’t want you to go. WC: 10,446 Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, lots of suggestive lines, and on top of it all they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) A/N: this fic happened because i wanted to write literally one scene of mattsun zipping up reader’s dress and now, 10k+ words later, we’re here :) also shoutout to luna for coming up with the fic title! <3 -Dawn

When you text Matsukawa right after his shift with a series of panicked voice notes and a string of siren emojis to match, he expects nothing short of a bug armageddon. He comes home fully prepared to find you standing on the kitchen counter, broom in hand as you frantically shout for him to get rid of whatever creepy crawling thing has invaded your home, the way he has on three separate occasions since the two of you moved in together.

Instead, when he arrives at your shared apartment, he finds you standing in the middle of your bedroom, heaps of fabric scattered across your mattress and pouring out from your closet. Thankfully, there’s no bug in sight, but you still look far from pleased, scowling at the floral-printed dress you’re holding as if it’s personally offended you.

Keep reading

“spare me the details”

Pairing: matsukawa x fem!reader Genre: angst with a happy ending (i promise lmao), friends to lovers Summary: matsukawa is a good friend, which is why when you ask for his help figuring out what to wear for your date, he agrees without thinking much of it. but the longer he spends watching you get ready, the more he realizes how much he doesn’t want you to go. WC: 10,446 Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, lots of suggestive lines, and on top of it all they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) A/N: this fic happened because i wanted to write literally one scene of mattsun zipping up reader’s dress and now, 10k+ words later, we’re here :) also shoutout to luna for coming up with the fic title! <3 -Dawn

When you text Matsukawa right after his shift with a series of panicked voice notes and a string of siren emojis to match, he expects nothing short of a bug armageddon. He comes home fully prepared to find you standing on the kitchen counter, broom in hand as you frantically shout for him to get rid of whatever creepy crawling thing has invaded your home, the way he has on three separate occasions since the two of you moved in together.

Instead, when he arrives at your shared apartment, he finds you standing in the middle of your bedroom, heaps of fabric scattered across your mattress and pouring out from your closet. Thankfully, there’s no bug in sight, but you still look far from pleased, scowling at the floral-printed dress you’re holding as if it’s personally offended you.

Keep reading

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 2

The second day gives you a moment of reflection, and an interesting insight into his position in not only this arrangement, but the scene in general. And he also helps you use your past bad experiences go create a new one- one you'll probably never forget.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, discussion of past bad experiences (sexual and general relationships), bondage (tied wrists), sensual dominance, Oral (male receiving), handjob (female receiving), squirting, more of Jungkooks dirty thoughts but its pretty tame this time haha, aftercare, romantic tension is that a thing I'm making it a thing now

Length: 5.3k

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hello hi I hope this doesn't disappoint 💗

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

The next day, it's him who wakes up first. And for a minute or two, he's actually unsure where he is- why is he on the couch? And why does his chest feel so heavy?

And then it all bleeds back into him, fills his head with nothing but memories of what happened yesterday.

He wonders if it feels the same for you as it does to him. Do you enjoy it? Sure, it looks like it, feels like it- but what if you only pretend to not make him feel bad?

He knows what's going on with him, so he decides to be a little selfish for once. You'll understand- he's doing it to stay sane and in a good headspace after all, and that only benefits you at the end of the day.

His arms move around a bit, adjust as he carefully pulls you a little closer, just to reassure himself. You're sleeping deeply, resting comfortably, and that can only mean that he's not scary to you. You still like him, you still want to spend time with him.

You wake up slowly, stretch your limbs for a second before you yawn, eyes slowly opening to look at him. "What's wrong?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing." He smiles, speaks with an equally as tired voice towards you, as you to him. You don't buy his cheap lie though.

"If I need to be honest at all times, I want you to do that too." You argue sleepily. "Thats only fair."

"You're right." He sighs, running a hand through your hair. "You remember how you dropped yesterday, during your shower after I warned you what could happen?" He reminds you, and you nod, suppressing a yawn. "Well, I'm having somewhat of a similar situation. It's fine though- I'm already feeling much better." He reassures, but you move, and lean on your hands before you sit up.

"No, wait-" you shake your head. "-can I help with that? Like, you helped me, there's got to be something I can do in return." You tell him, and he can't help but lean his head back, close his eyes and laugh.

You're just too precious.

"I just need you." He says after a moment, hand reaching out for yours to take. "Thats all." He shrugs, and you watch him with suspicion, though you do take his inviting hand and lay back down close to him.

"Can you.. you don't have to if it's weird!" You instantly interrupt yourself, making him chuckle. "But.. okay so, it made sense to me that as the.. receiving one and stuff, you'd go through a drop of emotions. Like, of course, sure. But like, I don't really understand how you'd get the same feeling? You're the leader and stuff, right?" You wonder, and he nods, humming to himself as he thinks about how to properly explain it.

"People tend to think that the sub is.. some sort of 'victim' towards the dominant person." Jungkook says, while the arm you lay on is bent, hand drawing shapes on the tip of your shoulder. "In reality, it's a clear power exchange, right? I only do what you tell me I can. You're calling the shots. You make the boundaries- I only ever have as much power as you're willing to give me." He explains to you, and you nod. "And with that comes.. responsibility. Pressure. Because in order for you to be able to let yourself fall, I have to be able to hold you for that time." He continues, as your hand reaches out to let your finger follow some of the inked lines of his tattoos. "I go through just as many emotions as you do. It's why I told you aftercare is important for us both." He says, looking at where your finger is tracing his skin. "Without it, I can drop just as hard."

You adjust your position as he finishes his explanation, looking at him. "Is there.. can I do anything to make sure you.. like, don't?" You ask. "As in- what do you need to feel good afterwards too?" You wonder, and he laughs to himself, shaking his head before he pulls you a bit closer for a second.

"Like I said-" he says, stretching his arms as well. "-I just need you. As long as you make me feel wanted, I'll be fine." He offers, before he kisses you're forehead, only to get up and walk into the bathroom right after.

You're not entirely sure if you understand what he means by making him 'feel wanted'-

But you'll do everything that you can to make sure he's gonna enjoy this week just as much as you know you will.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

You're both having breakfast, simple foods on the table, and in a way, it feels almost domestic. You already don't want to ever leave his home ever again- everything's so calm and it feels almost.. surreal. You've never felt like this. Up until now, you've always been somewhat stressed about things, so much so that it's become normal to you. The pressure of work, someone ringing the doorbell even if it's just the mailman, your boss calling you into office every now and then- pressure and stress have always been there for you. So, in a way, this calm and carefree bubble you're currently in, is intimidating you.

A lot.

"Have you ever given head before?" Jungkook asks suddenly, making you choke on your glass of water, making him pat your back with a grin on his face. "Sorry, I should've waited until you were done drinking." He laughs, and you slowly catch your breath again.

"I uh- tried but it was awkward really quickly so he.. kind of told me not to.." you reply to him, your words growing quieter towards the end. He feels an odd sense of pity for you- not really in a demeaning manner, but more so in a way of empathy. After all, he's been through a bad relationship in the past too- one that had given him major insecurities from himself and his body, issues he needed time for to solve them for himself. He feels for you. You should've never had to experience those things.

But if he can do anything to help you heal, he will do it.

"Did you not like it?" He asks casually, eating the simple breakfast food he's made earlier. He's so at ease with these things that you can't help but be as well- shrugging.

"I.. don't remember." You answer honestly. "I'm not sure anymore. I think.. like, the idea of doing it with you seems a bit intimidating, but not.. unattractive, you know?" You say, carefully lifting your gaze to look at him, who's lips are slowly turning upwards at the corners as he chews his food.

"Would you like to try? After we're done eating?" He asks, and you nod. It's another sign that you're growing more comfortable with him- clear answers falling more freely from you, you're no longer as eager to make sure you keep your true intentions hidden. And while he knows you still hold back a lot, he still appreciates the steps you're taking towards him.

Because it makes him eager to finally take your hand and never let go.

"You know.." You start, slowly, and he let's you go at your own pace for a moment, not pressuring you by looking at you or anything. He knows you're easily intimidated and pushed backwards whenever you try and jump over your own shadow in any way, so he tries to keep things as comfortable as he can for now. Just like he said, he's getting to know you, after all- not only on a physical level, but an emotional one as well. He's got the unique opportunity to really look behind the scenes of your otherwise always carefree nature you put up.

He wants this simple act to become a reality with him. He wants to be able to actually make you feel relaxed, and comfortable, and not so stressed all the time. Because he felt it. In the tense muscles of your body, in your need to somehow prove to him that you can be independent, and even before he got to touch you he's known. You seem awfully terrified of relying on someone, of trusting, or simply letting someone else take the reigns. You never truly let yourself go, and while he wants to know why- this week, he's rather gonna focus on showing you that he can be a safe zone for you.

He can't erase what memories you've already made. He can't undo what's happened to you- but he can make sure that your future experiences will outweigh any bad past you're carrying around.

"How about we.. uhm.." You start, instantly gaining his attention. You seem to think deeply before you bite on your bottom lip, a nervous habit he's already noticed. He does it too, mostly with his piercings- so he's in no position to try and scold you for it. "Like, I feel like you're not.. uh.." You don't know how to say it, and it's clear to him. He wonders what you want to say. He's not- what? What do you want him to do?

"You know you can be honest with me." He chuckles. "Really. If there's anything I'm doing that's not comfortable to you, you should actually said it." he offers, and you nod, putting your cutlery down before you lean back on your hands.

"It just.." You still struggle clearly. "You're the.. dom, right?" You ask, and he nods. "But, it doesn't really feel like it?" You carefully phrase, probably because you don't want to scratch his ego in case he'd feel attacked. But he's not so fragile. He won't break from a simple observation like that.

Mostly, because you're right. And that's been a calculated move from the very start.

"I don't want to overwhelm you, simply." He shrugs. "I hardly think you would've enjoyed our first experience together if I was to push you around and bark orders at you, would you?" He jokes almost, and you nod after thinking about it.

He's right. That would've probably more or less traumatized you.

"But we can definitely increase the intensity, if you want to." Jungkook offers casually. "I go at your pace, after all."

"But is that even enjoyable to you then?" You wonder, a bit insecure. "Isn't it boring?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Trust me-" He smiles, collecting the empty dishes on the table. "-having sex with the person you love is never boring." He winks, before he takes your dishes too, and brings them into the kitchen to wash them.

All while you're left stunned by his words spoken so effortlessly and out in the open as if they were nothing.

You wonder when you'll be able to do that.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

It's only Tuesday, and for some reason, sex has already begun to feel.. almost natural with Jungkook.

He doesn't make it into an awkward show, or something you need to endlessly prepare for- and neither does he keep it strictly bound to one place or setting like you've known it to be in the past. Jungkook is a free spirit- and it shows in the way he approaches sex and intimacy.

It's odd, how you're already noticing that.

"Now remember, Tiger stops everything. Saying it is nothing bad, it won't make things awkward-" he recites to you, as he crawls onto the couch, already shirtless. "-well simply calm down, clean up, and talk about what made you use it. Not to put you on a pedestal-" he continues, and you nod.

"-But to communicate and learn, I know." You reassure him, and he smiles, tapping below your chin.

"Good Girl." He teases, probably accidentally making your heart jump.

Whenever he says things like this, does things like this, you feel like you're actually falling in love with him. And that's fine, right? After all, he wants to love you too.

He's just waiting for you, patiently.

"Alright. Eyes on me from now on." He demands, commanding tone making it clear that the scene has begun- and the excitement of it easily begins to bubble up in your veins, filling your bloodstream with warmth and anticipation, while he moves, buckle of his belt jingling a little as he discards his pants- and you just know, from the way he moves, that he's also stripping off the rest of his clothes.

But you stay strong, even though your eyes desperately want to wander lower, curiosity spreading as he moves to sit behind you, when you feel something cool but soft against your wrists he's holding behind your back. "Remember-" he lowly speaks. "-If you feel like you'll panic, say the word." He reminds you one last time, before he pulls his pelt tight, experienced movements of his hands binding together yours, making you unable to use them anymore.

And then, you feel his lips. Faintly, almost teasing, pecking your skin, from the spot where your wrists rest straight up your spine to the back of your neck.

You shiver, but not from the cold. He chuckles as if to answer, before he moves to sit down with his back against the headrest of the pull out couch you've slept on with him last night, reaching out to you.

His hand on your chin, thumb almost gently running over your bottom lip, before he dares to make you open your mouth, his finger on your tongue. Throughout it all, your eyes stay on him, just like he told you they should, and you can feel something happening to you you didn't know was possible.

You feel like you're reaching your peak just from this alone- the sight of him, your hands bound behind your back, the knowledge that he's entirely bare in front of you. You want to see him.

But you wait. He's in charge, after all.

"So pretty.." he chuckles with eyes dark, licking his own bottom lip until the tip of his tongue plays with his piercing a little, while he watches you struggle to stay calm. His hand leaves your face, before he seems to think-

Just for a second though. He won't go there yet- slow steps, steady progress, no rush, he reminds himself.

"Look at you, so patient." He praises, and your breathing picks up at the sound of his words, eyes sparkling. You're so cute, he thinks to himself. Dangerous, most of all. "Tell me what you want." He commands, and you swallow, before you speak.

".. you." You answer. He chuckles.

"I'm right here." He snickers, amused.

"No, like.. I want-" you say, looking down his chest, his stomach, muscle defined as you reach his belly button, before the prominent V-Line greets your vision, soon followed by his hard length fully erect.

It twitches once, and you can't look away.

"Eyes up, darling." He demands, and your gaze snaps back up, earning a pleased smile. "Good Girl." He grins. "Now, I'll ask again. What do you want?" He asks, and you have to physically force the words out of you.

"I want you inside my mouth.." you tell him, and he tilts his head to the side, faking innocence.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling." He purrs down at you, hand around your neck angling your face upwards to straighten your back, fixing your posture for you. It helps- though the simple touch around your throat makes you clench around nothing, oddly enough. It's clear that he's slowly increasing the intensity of the powerplay- no longer as easy to convince.

You've probably already leaked onto the sheets underneath you. And you couldn't care less.

Maybe it's the way he's gotten you to straighten your back in an almost confident position. Maybe it's the praise getting to your head. Or maybe you're just being consumed by your own lust. But suddenly, your words aren't so hard to say out loud any longer as you speak.

"I want to please you." You say, and it catches him off guard a little. "Please let me have it.." you plead, and in this moment, he doesn't care that you're technically still not speaking out what you want specifically. He really couldn't care less.

How could he, with a goddess Aphrodite on her knees right in front of him, asking to pleasure him?

"Go ahead, darling." He says, finally offering his permission. "Let's see what you have to offer, hm?" He teases with a low purr in his tone, and at that, you realize you've received the green light from him.

And quite honestly, suddenly you don't care anymore if you've ever given head- because after all, Jungkook will guide you. Jungkook will use you in any way he deems right.

And you don't mind one bit.

You're not to sure what you're doing, but you're going small steps at a time, threading carefully to check what works and what doesn't. It's intimidating, yes- but not in a bad way. More like, you know what you want, you got the goal right in sight of you, but the road there seems a bit tough to navigate.

But you'll figure it out. You'll earn his praise, his affection, and most of all-

The sight of his face bathed in pleasure.

You lick the very tip as if to taste first, eyes looking up at him to check if there's any change in his expression- but he just watches you for now, not much to be seen on his face yet. Only when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock does he lean his head back, eyes closed and lips parted, and you know that while yes, you're getting what you wanted-

It's not enough. You want to see more.

Your wrists struggle for a second as you're reminded that they're out of order for now- and instead of starting to panic like you thought you might, you instead think of any other way you could use your mouth on him. You don't want to be boring.

If you're boring he might just not want you.

And you want him to want you.

Rolling your tongue around his head, you notice the way the muscles in his lower stomach contract- a clear reaction, face also scrunched up in what you know must be a positive reaction-

Because he's smiling, after all.

You're taking him deeper and deeper, testing your own limits, and its really making him use up all his willpower not to grab your hair and fuck your mouth. Your lips are shiny with your saliva, you're slowly easing that tension in your bones too- you're becoming comfortable, and that alone is reward enough.

That, and your goddamn tongue running over his cock like a succubus.

You're not sure how to properly stimulate him considering you can't fit much of him in your mouth, so you occasionally let him pop out just to lick the rest of him base to tip. You like the way it makes his breath hitch.

"So good." He praises, breathes out mostly as you hold him flat on your tongue, swallowing around him.

And he gasps out at that, a moan escaping him that sounds so forbidden that it sends pleasure right down your core. You do it again, and it makes his face scrunch up, teeth biting his bottom lip as he starts to look concentrated on something.

"You can spit it out." He says, and for a second you're not sure what he's saying, having just started to play around with sucking the head slightly, when his thighs seem to struggle keeping still, a drawn out groan escaping him as his release shoots into your mouth.

You drink him up, and he can't help but laugh.

You really are dangerous, a demon in disguise.

The moment you let him go, you lick your lips, although the bitter taste makes you involuntarily cringe slightly. He can't help but chuckle in endearment at the sight, moving in his position to kiss you, tongue cleaning your lips it feels like, his kiss both incredibly dirty but sweet.

It makes you feel butterflies, and they're just as excitedly fluttering around as your body is as soon as his hand finds its way between your legs.

"So wet- desperate to get off, aren't you?" He asks, and you nod, easily falling onto your back to lift your legs as he strips off your underwear, clear strings of arousal clinging to the fabric for a moment before its discarded somewhere you don't care. "Look at that pretty cunt." He chuckles, hand easily moving, fingers dipping between your lower lips to cover themselves in your juices, every motion smoothly gliding. Two of them enter your achingly empty core, and he feels you clench around his digits already as he moves them in and out. "So soft and warm.. makes me wanna bury myself balls deep inside it." He says, and you whine at the thought of it.

You want it. No matter if you can't take it- you want it.

He takes out his fingers just for a moment to teasingly tap your clit, making you kick out your legs in frustration as he keeps on providing never enough friction or stimulation to truly get you off.

"Please-" you beg, out of breath. "-please make me cum!" You tell him, and the corners of his lips move upwards at your first true demand voiced out clearly.

"You wanna cum, huh.." he hums almost to himself, when he moves to perk your butt up on his thigh, before his hand cups your heat for a moment, as if to contemplate what to do next.

And then his fingers are back inside, curling and moving rapidly, heel of his palm finally giving you that friction you've been seeking. But it's fast, it's rough, and while you don't say the word that would stop it, you're unsure what's happening to yourself.

"Let go." He tells you, free hand grabbing one of your tits to let his thumb run over your perked up nipple. "You wanted to cum-" he almost mocks you, "so cum." He demands, and that you do.

You don't know what exactly happens, but you know that he doesn't seem to mind it, so it's probably nothing bad.

Wet sounds suddenly echo off the walls as he moves a bit slower, pushes you through your orgasm and straight into another, softer one that doesn't make you almost deaf and blind. It soothes you a little, until the sting of overstimulation makes your hips jump.

You only barely notice his palm soothingly running up and down your thigh now, having let go of your still throbbing cunt as you recover from whatever that was, sheets visibly darkened below you while his hand and forearm are glistening with liquid.

You can see him smile down at you, and that's enough. You don't need to understand anything to just enjoy his affectionate eyes on you.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

You're in the bathtub, when you inspect your wrists, his own hands carefully holding them, thumb running over the red marks left. They'll fade soon, you know that- and it makes you almost sad, looking at them.

"Leather is a bit rough." He hums in thought. "I'll use something softer next time." He offers, moving your wrists closer to his face to kiss the skin there.

"Its fine.." you say quietly, voice echoing off the tiled walls of his bathroom. "I like.. this." You say, and he chuckles.

"Me kissing you, or the marks on your skin?" He wonders, and you shrug, water moving a bit.

"Both." You say, looking up at him from over your shoulder.

"Noted." He jokes, though you can see something sparkle in his eyes. "Though, I gotta say.." he says, moving a bit as the water sloshes around, "...that was quite impressive for a first-timer." He jokes, and you roll your eyes, face turning red.

"I didn't even know what I was doing." You deny, making him laugh openly.

"Well, once you know what you're doing you're gonna send me straight to the moon then." He exaggerates playfully. "That'll be an out-of-body experience!" He tells you, and you just lean back into his chest, shrugging.

"Well, I've got five more days to work on my skills." You proudly say, and he nods quietly.

"Only five?" He teases, and you groan.

"Yeah.." you hum, looking up at him. "Tonight I just wanna.. cuddle?" You ask, and he nods softly down at you, arms wrapping around your shoulders.

"Cuddling it is then." He tells you, reaching over your shoulder to drain the tub of the soapy water.

And true to his word, the rest of the day is in fact spent mostly domestic and without any further mention of any.. adult activities, until a question begins to bother you, as you watch him scroll for something to watch on his TV. "Hey, Jungkook?" You wonder, and he raises his brows, humming a reply to you that shows his peaked interest in what you've got to say. "Isn't it.. gonna be, I don't know.." You mumble, unsure how to phrase it. "How come we haven't had.. sex yet?" You ask, and he looks confused for a moment, before he looks at you, task immediately abandoned at your words.

"I'm not sure if I follow." He jokes. "I'm pretty sure we had sex just a few hours earlier? When you squirted-" He starts but you wave him off like an annoying insect in panic, making him laugh at your shy antics.

"No no no, that's not-" You shakes your head, before you clarify. "That's not- like, proper sex. You know." You try to get him onto the right path, and he leans back into the couch, crossing his arms.

"Ah-" He hums out after a moment of contemplating what you've said, finally processing it correctly. "Okay, I get what you mean now. Though I've gotta correct you-" he says, putting down the remote to the TV for now. "-I don't have to put my dick in you to be able to call it sex." He corrects you in a gentle way, before he uncrosses his arms, turning his body more towards you. "But I have a feeling that's not entirely your point." he continues, and you shrug.

"I don't know how to explain it." You complain. "Like, even if I'm gonna like everything you do this week-" You offer, trying to convey your feelings properly. "-I'm still not gonna be able to.. have that kind of sex with you." You say, and he scrunches up his brows for a second, before he shakes his head.

"Doesn't mean we can't try." He tells you. "Is that something you'd want?" He asks, and you nod. "No, I mean- is that something you'd like to do? Don't just say yes because you think I'll need that from you to feel satisfied. I can think of numerous different ways to get myself off with your help, don't you worry about that." He chuckles, especially when you grow clearly flustered by his blunt way of talking about this entire topic.

"I already know I can't do it." You deflate, averting your eyes. "I told you- it didn't work-" You start, but he shakes his head.

"Just because it didn't work with him, doesn't mean anything." He denies. "There's tons of reasons you weren't able to take him. Maybe actual size, maybe poor preparation, maybe you were too tense, maybe all of it- we'll never truly know." He shrugs his shoulders. "Trust me when I tell you, that if you want to try, I'm gonna make sure I'll use any way I know of to make it as comfortable as I can." He offers, but you don't seem too convinced.

"But you're- like, a lot bigger than him." You say, probably unaware how that fuels Jungkook's ego in secret, as he suppresses a smirk.

"So?" He asks, unable to see your point. "I'm not like him. I actually care about my partner's pleasure together with my own. You'll just have to trust me, and I'll make sure to try any way to make it work." He offers, and after a moment or two, you nod.

"Okay." You say. "I want to.. try then. Like, not right now- but, I don't know. At some point." You nod, and he grins brightly, nodding as well.

"I'll keep it in mind."

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

"You're still awake." He notes as he sits down on the edge of the pulled out sofa, having left his bedroom to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night, and you sigh, admitting it with that reaction. "What's on your mind?" He asks, and you shrug, turning towards him.

It'd be selfish to ask him to sleep in the same bed with you again, right? After all, this week is about sex, and finding out if you're.. physically compatible, so to say. Or maybe not even that. He'd just said he wants to convince you of his ways, not that he'd be with you at the end of this week. Have you lost that out of sight, already?

It's only Tuesday, and you're already somewhat regretting things. It feels weird, like that feeling of disappointment you get when thinking of a past experience or achievement you missed out on because you'd been simply stupid or selfish.

This doesn't mean anything to him. He's just so caring because that's what he's like with everyone he fucks.

"Nothing." You say, refusing to open up to him, and he doesn't know what brought that on. He's not sure what he's supposed to do now- after all, you both agreed to exploring each other on an intimate level, but you didn't actually clarify if you wanted to explore anything romantic either. He doesn't want to overstep a line for you, doesn't want to push anything you wouldn't feel comfortable with.

But at the same time, he can't help but feel like you're constantly reaching out for his heart, though careful, and unsure.

"If it keeps you up at night it's not nothing." He declines your answer, reaching out to adjust one of the pillows so it doesn't hide your face from him. "Tell me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He reminds you, and you stay still for a moment or two, clock on the wall of his open kitchenette ticking the only sound in the apartment for a good while.

"I think I-" You start, unable to finish that sentence how you'd like to.

I think I'm falling in love with you.

"I think I don't want to sleep alone." You instead say out loud, sounding horribly selfish in your own ears. But he just chuckles and nods, patting the blanket you're under.

"Scoot over then." He teases, making you move just like he'd requested, before he sneaks underneath the blanket where you're already warm and cozy. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asks quietly, as you look at him in the darkness of the apartment.

You nod, silently, hoping he sees.

He does- but he doesn't believe in it. There's something on your mind you're not telling him, and he knows he's gonna have to coax it out of you at some point this week, because there's this odd feeling in his chest that suspects, and maybe even hopes, that what he himself is feeling might just be what you're battling with as well.

And he wants to hear you say it.

He wants you to love him.

"Hey, Kook, seriously, this is not a good idea," you mutter, nervously nibbling on your bottom lip. Your gaze flickers back to your house, nervousness swirling within you.

Standing beside Jungkook and his–very scary–motorcycle, you can't help but feel a tinge of guilt tingling through you. You hated going against your parents rules...

"They won't even realize you're missing, sugar" Jungkook reassures you, his hand casually resting on your hip, his touch bringing a safe warmth to your side, making it hard to resist his proposal of a late night drive. "it's already late, and all the lights in your house are off, they won't even notice you're gone"

You glance at the familiar surroundings of your home, the huge tree in front of your window, the small but pretty fountain in your garden..., contemplating the consequences of your decision you sigh, crunching up your brows–you know that it's good to break free from the boring routines; to experience life.

Your heart races with fear, but as soon as you feel Jungkook's grip tighten around your waist, you know it's time to break free even if it was just for a few hours. With a hint of a smile and a spark in your eyes, you nod at him, signaling that you're ready and all in–at least you hope you were.

"I promise I'll take you back home before midnight" Jungkook smiles "you're not getting in trouble because of me"

"I'm super scared" you mutter, clutching your jacket tightly against yourself as you gaze at the intimidating vehicle before you

"You'll be totally fine, I promise" Jungkook reassures you, flashing a confident smirk. "I mean, I'm sure your parents-"

Cutting him off, you shake your head vigorously. "Nonono. I don't mean my parents," you clarify, pointing directly at his shiny Harley.

"Oh?" Jungkook chuckles, clearly proud of it patting the seat.

"What if I fall off and you don't even realize?" you pout, your eyes wide with worry. "I've only been on that motorcycle twice in my entire life, and each time it was only for like five minutes tops. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be on it for any longer."

You look up at Jungkook, fear evident on your face. The thought of being on that thing for longer than a few minutes makes you want to throw up.

"Fall off?" Jungkook laughs "Sugar, the chances of you falling off this thing while I'm in charge are 0." He shakes his head now looking serious "I won't let anything happen to you. If I knew this would endanger you I wouldn't let you ride it"

"You can never know, Jungkook!" you whine, bouncing on your feet with anxiety. "I mean, I've watched some videos online of people getting really hurt by motorcycles and stuff" you ramble on, but before you can continue, Jungkook swiftly shuts you up by squishing your cheeks together with his hands.

"Hun," he says, his voice filled with amusement, leaning in and placing a kiss on your pouty lips. The cute nickname and the touch of his slightly wet lips make you go weak in the knees, melting into his affectionate gesture.

"You're so cute," he sighs, patting your cheek gently, leaving a faint red mark behind by the way he squeezed them earlier

"Kook," you whine, protesting his actions, still unsure about all of this

But then Jungkook, being Jungkook, cracks his knuckles and leans against his harley. "Sugar, how about this," he proposes with a mischievous smirk. "You get on here, and I'll take you to somewhere really pretty with a nice view. We can grab some snacks too" he suggests, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"And if–at the end of the night–you decide I was just talking shit" he looks around "I'll dye the bike pink" he finishes

"Fine," you nod "and youll add cute stickers as well"

-

The wind was blowing through your hair as you desperately tried to divert your attention away from the heart-stopping speed Jungkook was driving at.

You had no idea where you were heading– Jungkook said it was a surprise. The darkness of the night made it difficult to make out anything more than a distant lights and blurry outlines of bushes anyway.

Attempting to ease your nerves, you hum softly, leaning back against Jungkook's muscular shoulder. Your eyes instinctively shut, seeking solace in the darkness, but you quickly snapped them open. Panic in you as you realized that the fear got worse when you couldn't see

So you kept your eyes wide open, stealing glances at Jungkook every few minutes. His face was concentrated, his brow furrowed as he focused on navigating his Harley through the night.

He was so handsome... features enhanced by his piercings, each one adding a certain something to him. You always liked his nose, and his lips–oh, they were just too kissable

It was only when the bike finally came to a halt that your daydream abruptly faded. Jungkook extended a hand as you hot off, your legs feeling slightly wobbly from the combination of the ride and drowsiness. "Woah there, sugar" Jungkook grinned, "you good?"

You nodded, giving him a small smile to reassure him. Jungkook held onto your hand tightly, never letting go as he secured his Harley. "We gotta walk a bit now" he said "Ever been to Namsan Tower?" One eyebrow raised as he waited for your response.

Dragging you along behind him, you hurriedly caught up, your hands intertwined as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Because it was.

"No," you shake your head, "it's a bit too far to walk, isn't it?" You nudge your face against Jungkook's strong shoulder, trusting him to lead the way as you blindly follow him

He hums "Yeah, it's a bit of a walk from yoru home, thank god your boyfriend has a bike" he teases you "It's so pretty, especially at this hour. We can pretend it's all ours for the night" he chuckles nudging your hip to get you to look up

When you do, it takes your breath away. From this point, you could overlook the entire city, lights stretching as far as the eye could see. It leaves you speechless.

"Woah" you sigh

"Pretty, isn't it?" Jungkook sighs, his arms wrapping around you from behind as both of you take a moment to fully absorb the scene

"Like you," he murmurs softly after a while.

Confused, you turn to him "what do you mean?"

Jungkook takes a deep breath, wanting to choose his words carefully "it's almost as beautiful as you, sugar" he confesses, his arms holding you even closer "I wanted to bring you here to show you just how I see you through my eyes" He nods, silently reassuring himself that he's expressing himself correctly, just as he practiced in his room before he came to pick you up

"In my eyes, you're like a million sparkling stars" he admits, his vulnerability shsining through. He hopes that his words won't seem strange or weird, but rather sincere. To his relief, you don't find it weird at all.

"Really?" you ask, a hint of shyness in your voice, your small hand gently playing with his much larger one.

His gaze softens as he looks at you from the side. "Yeah, really" he confirms, his voice filled with determination. "I can't help but think of you, all the damn time, and right now...I just...I want to kiss you so fucking badly"

"Why don't you?" You giggle "I'm right here" you nudge him playfully only for him to lean in and do just that, kiss you.

His lips are unsurprisingly soft and slightly moist as they touch yours, they feel different. It's more sensual, more longing more...loving? It's a moment that catches you off guard

Did his kisses always feel this...good?

Of course they did you shake the thought off

But thsi felt different

Jungkook breaks the kiss after a few seconds, his brows furrowed as they stare into yours

What are you doing Jeon? Jungkook thinks to himself

Why are you feeling like this? Why are you so worked up after just a kiss?

As your lips part, you're left breathless. Looking into his eyes that tell so much more than they did before.

"Kook...-"

"Wanna to grab a snack before I take you back home?" Jungkook interrupst you, clearing his throat, his smile lighting up his face as he helps you stand up

"Sure" You nod still a bit caught off guard a small smile on your face as you look around "but there's not much going on around here"

"There's a 7/11 pretty close by, I'll buy you one of those fancy ice teas you like" he nods towards the direction of the store smirking

"You think they'll have the blueberry flavour?" You ask lips pursed as you decide to ignore what just happened. Thinking about how much you enjoyed it when Jungkook passed by one night and brought one with him. You instantly fell in love with the newfound flavour.

"I'm sure they do, and if not we'll just drive to another one until we find it"

-

"You're telling me you've never had boba before, sugar?" Jungkook asks confused, his voice filled with surprise as you both stand in front of the closed boba shop

"What is it then?" you pry, taking a sip of your blueberry ice tea and gazing at him with your wide, curious eyes. Jungkook shakes his head, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"It's ice tea, or actually, you can make it with any drink, I think... Coffee too....I think," he nods, confused himself

"And then you just add flavored pearls to it. Some are apple-flavored, some cherry. Oh, I know you'd fucking love the strawberry ones" he adds, unable to resist pinching your side.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, enjoying the innocence and curiosity that always radiates from you, it made him feel like the world wasn't bad after all...

"Ah, so it's basically a drink for when you're bored?" you chuckle "so you can play with the little pearls in your mouth?" You ask

Jungkook nods, unable to hide his amusement. "Uh, yeah, something like that," he agrees, a soft smile gracing his features.

"I just thought you'd know about it since... well, I don't know, you give off the vibe that you'd like it," he explains, his voice laced with affection as he grips your hips tighter walking towards his bike with you.

- In the studio -

"Seven and eight and nine and-" Mrs. Chuu's instructions echoed off the walls, it was another solo class today, which meant all eyes—actually just Mrs. Chuu's—were focused on you.

Despite the pressure, you found these classes much more enjoyable. They allowed you to express yourself more freely, cracking jokes, and even sharing tidbits about your life, and about Jungkook—though conveniently leaving out his boxing activities, knowing it wouldn't sit well with Mrs. Chuu

As the class winds down, you let out a sigh, relieved that you could finally sit down. Mrs. Chuu starts tidying up the room, humming a tune under her breath when suddenly, she turns to you with a curious smile. "You've never told me what he does, by the way, dear" she says, "that boyfriend of yours"

Glad that she isn't looking directly at you, you bite your lip, contemplating how to answer. "Oh..." you begin, hesitating slightly. "Well, he's... uh... he's...he goes to the gym a lot" you respond, hoping she would accept that answer

Mrs. Chuu's face lights up with understanding "oh, so he's like a personal trainer?" she asks, trying to fill in the gaps.

You nod, "sorta," you reply, biting your lip as you try to maintain the act

In that moment, relief washes over you. Mrs. Chuu's assumption offers a coverup, allowing you to keep Jungkook's true job safely tucked away.

You appreciate her concern and interest, but revealing the truth about his boxing stuff would only make things worse

With a grateful smile, you start helping Mrs. Chuu in tidying up, thankful for her belief of your half lie

"So when am I meeting this handsome young man?" Mrs. Chuu asks and you almost spit out the water you were drinking. Quickly swallowing you clear your throat "uh-oh-" you struggle with your words

"Dear, he's probably wanting to pick you up sometime, and just like I know you, you won't let him" Mrs. Chuu teases, finishing up cleaning.

A lump forms in your throat as you swallow nervously. "Um... Mrs. Chuu, heh...my mom doesn't know about us yet... that's why" you manage to say, your smile awkward

Mrs. Chuu's expression shifts to surprise "Still not?" she asks, genuinely taken aback. "Are you dating a criminal or something?" She teases

A weak chuckle escapes your lips, but you choose to remain silent, not ready to say further

Sensing your hesitation, Mrs. Chuu's tone softens. "Come on, dear. He's your first boyfriend. Your mom would be delighted-" she suggests, however, your plea interrupts her sentence.

"Please don't tell her," you shriek, urgency evident in your voice.

Mrs. Chuu straightens up, her posture more attentive than before. "I wouldn't ever," she assures you, "your secrets are safe with me" she adds

"Good afternoon," a guy interrupts, walking into the studio as if he owned the place. His confident way catches your attention immediately. He looks insanely good, dressed in an all white outfit with some touches of black here and there. It's evident that he has an eye for fashion, which brings a smile to your face. His blonde hair, with just a hint of black roots, adds an extra touch of uniqueness

"Ah, Jimin-ah, you're very early today" Mrs. Chuu greets him with a warm smile. You stand there, feeling a bit awkward, observing their interaction shyly. Approaching people has never been your strong suit.

"I am" Jimin answers and then turns his attention towards you, surprising you as he extends his hand. "You must be y/n" he says, his voice carrying a friendly tone.

Your smile widens as you confirm "I am. You're Jimin?" you find reassurance when he nods affirmatively

"The one and only," Jimin jokes, his tone lighthearted.

"Hes the intern i mentioned tk you a few weeks back" Mrs. Chuu introduces him, explaining how her back troubles had limited her ability to manage things around the studio. You nod in understanding, gently rubbing her shoulder in a comforting gesture

She was really like a grandma to you, and you loved it

"I thought you said it got better? Do you need me to get something for you?" you ask, concern lacing your words. However, Mrs. Chuu quickly dismisses your offer. "No, dear, that's what Jimin's here for now" she reassures you with a smile, and Jimin joins in with a warm nod

"Oh" you nod, relieved by the reassurance. "That's good, then. I don't have to worry about you anymore?" you tease, earning a small pat on your arm from Mrs. Chuu with a disapproving look

Mrs. Chuu continues, sharing more about Jimin. "He's going to the academy too. I got him a scholarship in return for his help" she explains proudly "He's a great guy."

Jimin's cheeks tint with a blush, while you simply smile at him

-

"So, are you in my class now?" Jimin jokes, as he starts to prepare for his class of fifth graders.

You chuckle at his remark. "No, no, I just had a solo class with Mrs. Chuu. I'm sorry, I'll leave now" you apologize, thinking it's time for you to make your exit

But Jimin stops you, his curiosity piqued. "Solo? You don't go here?" he asks, genuinely surprised, referring to the fact that the academy doesn't typically offer solo classes to non regular students.

"No, I don't," you reply, shaking your head. "My mom knows some people here, so I'm able to do this. I come here every day" you explain with a smile

Jimin's eyes widen slightly, puzzle pieces slowly falling into place "Ah, I see," he says.

With a friendly smile, Jimin resumes his preparations, and you start to gather your things, preparing to leave the studio. As you take off your shoes and begin massaging your feet, a groan of pain escapes your lips when you come across a small wound you got earlier in the day from a fall. It's nothing too serious, but it feels unfortunate, especially considering you're a ballerina

"Need some help?" Jimin quickly walks over, his eyes focused on your foot as he points towards it.

You attempt to brush off his concern with a smile, but he interrupts you. "I don't accept 'no's.' Come on, let me help you. I'm good with stuff like this" he insists, his smile inviting and warm.

Without waiting for your response, he heads towards the first aid kit located at the back of the room

You glance at your phone and sigh, realizing that you'll have to send a text to Mr. Lin, informing him that you'll be walking home today. It's a fairly long walk, but you find comfort in it, and it gives you the opportunity to listen to some music and unwind

You also see some texts from Jungkook, but decide to answer those when you're out

Returning your attention to Jimin, he comes back holding a small container of cream in his hand. He places it gently on your small cut

"Thank you, Jimin," you smile, your voice filled with sincerity. His willingness to help and made you soft

"You know what?: you laugh "I actually do feel better now...thank you" you smile again

"It doesn't look as bad, but keep an eye on it. You never know what could happen," Jimin advises with a smile before standing back up. "I have around 15 more minutes until the kids arrive" he sighs, settling down on the floor to stretch

You bite your lip contemplating whether to stay a bit longer, the thought of making a new friend excites you.

Taking a deep breath, you gather the courage to speak up. "So, you're a teacher and a student here?" you ask, curiously

Jimin chuckles at your question "yes and no" he responds, his eyes lighting up. "This is supposed to be Mrs. Chuu's class, but she called me earlier to replace her because of her back" he explains, and you nod happily, delighted to have met a new friend. And as minutes pass your conversation continues, you discover shared interests, like favourite food and shows-

"No way you've watched gossip girl?" You laugh covering your mouth "That's so cool! Who's your fav? Be honest" you ask

"Mh, I always liked blair" he shrugs and you nod

"I'm basic, I liked serena" you laugh and Jimin gives you a look making you roll your eyes "she's not that bad" you defend her

-

Walking down the clean halls, Jungkook's every step echoes throughout the entire floor. Heading past various classroom doors, bits of lectures reach his ears, but his sole focus is on locating room 7—the studio where you always had practise.

Lookig at his watch he sighs–he was in a bit of a rush, hoping that you haven't already gone back home

He wanted to surprise you. He even bought some flowers and bubble tea for you to try. But he had been caught up in some last-minute stuff, making him run behind schedule.

Nevertheless, he's determined to see you, to head to the beach together and have some alone time. The thought of your smiling face and the sound of your laughter echoes in his mind, bringing a small smile to his face

As he turns the final corner, relief washes over him when he spots your street shoes at the door, signaling you were still inside

Thank fuck

Gently pushing the door open, expecting a half empty room he clears his throat, ready to surprise you when he suddenly spots you close–too close–with some guy he didn't know

His eyes narrow as he lays eyes on the scene before him. His jaw clenches tightly, waiting for you to notice his presence, and when you finally do, you...smile? "Kook!" you exclaim, walking up to him with a big smile, ready to wrap your arms around him in a warm hug.

However, your hug is stopped by the sight of the flowers and bubble tea in his hand. "You got me flowers?" you pout, looking up at him with an adorable expression "that's so cute"

Instead of reciprocating your mood, Jungkook's expression remains stern. His frown is not directed at you, but rather at the guy who had been way too close to you just a few seconds ago. His protective instinct kicks in, and he can't help but feel a bit of jealousy

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down before speaking. "Yeah, I got you flowers," he says, his voice tense. "But who the fuck is this guy?" he asks, nodding subtly towards Jimin who just laughs making Jungkooks frown deepen

You follow his gaze and your smile fades slightly as you notice Jungkook's displeasure. "Oh, this is just my new friend Jimin" you explain, "We were just talking. Nothing more," smile not really sure why he looked so mad

"Hey man" Jimin greets him only to earn a hard glare from Jungkook

He shakes his head forcing his gaze to soften as he processes your words, a friend.

"Alright, just a friend," he says, his voice now more relaxed. He hands you the flowers and bubble tea

"Thank you, Kook," you say, sincerity shining in your eyes. "I appreciate the flowers and you coming all the way here." You smile

"Of course, anything for you"

Frowning slightly you ask. "Did anyone...did anyone see you?"

"No" he simple says wrapping his arms around you protectively and staring at Jimin with no mercy

Sensing the tension in the air, you decide it was time to call it a day at the studio. Casually reaching for your bag, you shoot a friendly smile at Jimin and bid him goodbye.

Jungkook, always the gentleman, takes the bag from you as you both made your way out of the studio.

Stepping outside, the fresh air greeted you, instantly lightening the mood.

Jungkook reached out to take the flowers from your hands, offering to hold them for you while you tried your drink "So, what's the the flavour?"

"Strawberry."

-

The beach is quiet, just a few birds chirping away, as you sit perched on a rock, thanks to Jungkook being all sweet and giving you his jacket to soften up the hard ground.

Your head is resting on his shoulder while his hand is all snug around your waist. It's one of those rare peaceful moments you get to spend together until Jungkook breaks the silence

"So, that Jimin guy... he's new?" he asks, trying to play it cool but you can sense the tinge of jealousy in his voice.

Lifting your head, you flash him a smile. "Yeah, kinda... he's Mrs. Chuu's intern," you say, excitement lacing your words. "He's been lending her a hand cause she's been struggling with her back lately. Such a nice guy..."

Jungkook lets out a hum, but you can feel his grip on your waist tightening a bit "I don't get why you don't like him," you say, sitting up a little straighter "he's genuinely nice, you know? He even helped me clean this tiny cut I have on my foot earlier"

That mention of a cut catches Jungkook off guard, and his eyes widen as he straightens up as well now, lookibg at you with concern. "Cut? What cut?" he blurts out, clearly worried.

"Oh, it's nothing serious, just a little scrape. But my point is, Jimin was there for me. If I like the guy, shouldn't you too?" You quickly reassure him "if there was something to worry about, if tell you" you reassure him

His gaze softens, and he tugs you a bit closer, like he's staking his claim. "Alright, I get it," he mumbles, a hint of a scoff in his voice. "I just... don't want anyone else to take care of you like I do."

You can't help but melt a little inside at this. Despite his tough exterior, there's a softness that only you get to see, and you loved how you were special enough for him to show it. Cupping his cheek, you lean in, brushing your lips against his. "You know, Jungkook, you're the only one who I genuinely couldnt live without seeing ever again" you whisper, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin

The waves crash against the shore, the birds continue their chriping, and here you are, locked in a moment with the boy who makes your heart skip a beat.

As you pull away from the kiss, you both exchange a knowing smile. Maybe Jimin is nice, but there's no denying that Jungkook is the one who truly makes you, feel like yourself

Peering into your innocent eyes, Jungkook can't resist leaning in for another kiss. This time more intense, with a hint of roughness, as his tongue explores your mouth. His hand firmly cups your cheek, keeping you in place, while your own hand rests against his strong chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart

Between kisses, Jungkook pulls away "You're mine," he says, his voice possessive. "And I trust you more than I trust myself," he confesses, biting his lip, clearly struggling with his emotions. "But I gotta be honest, sugar" he continues, his tone a mixture of frustration. "I don't trust any other guys around you. So... don't get mad if I feel jealous from time to time" he sighs

Cute

You can't help but let out a soft giggle, finding his possessiveness oddly cute. Gently caressing his cheek with your fingertips, you respond, "Kook... I know how much you care about me."

"But you have nothing to worry about kookie" you reassure him, your shy smile radiating warmth. "I've chosen and only you." It's true. Despite his reputation, there's a side of him that draws you in, a softness that makes your heart flutter. You feel safe in his arms, knowing that his protectiveness comes from a place of love

Jungkook's tension starts to ease. His lips curl into a smile, and he pulls you in. "I'm a lucky fucker" he murmurs, "But, don't be surprised if I occasionally get a little possessive."

You nuzzle your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. "As long as you're not fighting anyone were okay" you whisper teasing him a bit.

-

The gym is packed, as usual, with people busily working out. Jungkook strides through the people, his gaze fixed on his phone, a hint of annoyance flashing across his face. He had sent you a good morning message earlier, but there had been no response yet. You were probably caught up in something, he hoped

Just as he's about to reach the boxing ring, Wendy, with her irritating voice and overly touchy demeanor, stops him. "JK! Long time no see. We've missed you around here" she purrs, her voice getting on his nerves

Jungkook barely spares her a glance, his eyes still glued to his phone "yeah, well, I've been working out at my apartment blocks gym. Couldn't be bothered to see your fucking face." With that, he brushes past her, not wasting another second on her

Entering the changing rooms, Jungkook finally lets out a frustrated sigh. He throws his phone into his gym bag and changes into his workout clothes, his mind still thinkingabout yesterday. You talked about everything, yet he still felt some tension

As he emerges from the changing rooms, the loud hits of gloves against punching bags fills the air, mixed with the grunts and shouts.

Each punch he throws is laced with frustration and anger. He puts his energy into his training, letting his muscles do the talking. The rhythm of his punches is like a release, drowning out the distractions of the outside world

-

Wendy's mouth hangs open in disbelief at Jungkook's cutting remark. Irene, sensing an opportunity to stir up gossip, can't help but laugh under her breath, earning a slap on the arm from her friend. Wendy's annoyance quickly turns into anger as she rolls her eyes, marching back to join the rest of her clique

"Here" Irene retrieves her phone and shows Wendy a picture–you and Jimin talking at the studio yesterday.

Wendy's eyes widen as she takes in the image, her mind immediately jumping to conclusions

"I made Joy send me this photo. She says Jimin is new, and look how close the two of them seem. It's definitely going to upset Jungkook if we show him this." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, trying to catch Wendy's interest

A smile spreads across Wendy's face as she contemplates the idea of using the photo to her advantage. "You know what, Irene? Maybe it's time for Jungkook to forget about her and finally notice me"

Irene chuckles, fully on board with the plan. "Exactly, DyDy! This is the perfect opportunity. If he sees that photo, he might just realize what he's been missing and come running into your arms." The two girls exchange knowing glances, giggling

Little did they know, their little plan wouldn't cause any harm

-

Kook🩷: Good morning Sugar take it slow today

Today 8 am

You: Morning! On lunch break right now😋

Today 12 pm

You: *Insert lunch picture* made it myself 👩‍🍳

Today 12 pm

Jungkook can't help but smile as he glances down at his phone, reading through the messages you've sent. Your way of texting was the most lovely thing ever, making his heart flutter "She's so cute," he mumbles to himself, taking a sip of water before composing a reply.

Feeling relieved that you're not upset or mad about anything, Jungkook's tension eases. He knew that sometimes his jealousy gets the best of him. But seeing your messages reassures him that you two are okay

As he hits send, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

Kook🩷: looks good, tonight my place?

Today 12:15 pm

Kook🩷: food + movies?

Today 12:15 pm

"Jeon, 1 on 1 match in 5?" Kai challenges Jungkook, interrupting his peace after reading your messages. Jungkook puts his phone back and empties his water bottle, ready to leave for the day

"Nah, man, I'm done for today," Jungkook brushes off Kai's challenge, his mind already occupied with thoughts of you. He starts taking off his shirt, preparing to head home

Kai rolls his eyes at Jungkook's response, clearly unimpressed. "Man, you've gotten weak since you started dating," he scoffs. "You used to be so reckless, always ready to beat the shit out of everyone in the ring. What happened to that Jungkook?"

Jungkook feels anger bubbling in his chest, turning to look at Kai, his eyes burning "Shut the fuck up, man. You don't want to take this any further," he warns, his voice laced with a scary edge.

But Kai refuses to back down, "Fuck, I didn't know you became such a pussy," Kai taunts, rolling his eyes dismissively

In a split second, Jungkook's patience snaps. His temper flares, and he pushes Kai against the wall, trapping him with an intense grip. "Fuck did you just call me?" Jungkook growls

For a moment, the room falls into a silence as the tension between Jungkook and Kai hangs in the air. If there's one thing about jUngkook is that he refuses to let anyone underestimate his strength or question his status in this gym

As his grip tightens, Jungkook's mind races. He knows he needs to regain control of his anger before it spirals out of hand. With a scoff, he lets lose of his grip on Kai

Kai swallows hard, his brave autitute disappearing "Alright, man, I didn't mean it like that," he stammers, realizing the line he crossed. "L-let's just forget about it, okay?"

Jungkook nods slowly "Yeah, let's leave it at that," he replies, pushing him against the wall a last time before turning away

Jungkook walks out of the building, feeling an insane amount of stress. He can't help but light up a cigarette, muttering a curse under his breath.

"For fucks sake"

With each drag, he tries to calm his racing thoughts, but all he can think about is you. Jimin and you.

He hates that he craves your presence, longing the comfort and reassurance that only you can give him

Leaning against his bike, Jungkook's mind races with thoughts of you. He needs you by his side, now more than ever somehow. He didn't know what was happening to him, he knew he liked you, but lately it's been through the roofs.

Inhaling deeply, the smoke swirls around him, "shit"

He exhales, the tension in his body releases with each drag.

His fingers itch to type out a message, to let you know he's coming over but he just can't wait one more second

Gathering his thoughts, he stubs out the cigarette withhis shoe, and takes a deep breath, getting on his bike.

-

"You're careless and selfish, you can't just be so stupid and get hurt! Ballet is your job! What will you do when you suddenly can't dance anymore? What will I do?" Your mom selfishly yells at you.

You feel like crying, but you try to hold back your tears. You know that your mom is just worried about you and your future as a dancer.

You remember the advice of Mrs chuu who always reminded you of the importance of taking care of your body and avoiding injuries

You sigh

"Look at me!" Your mom yells at you, her voice laced with frustration. You glance up from where you're sitting on your bed, trying to ignore the urge to cry

"Do you understand what a disgrace it would be if you were to injure your foot and couldn't dance again? Your whole life, you've been working towards becoming a ballerina. I've put so much money to get you to where you are. And now, with one careless mistake, you could throw it all away." She sighs heavily

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, your mother abruptly speaks up, "If you do not want to talk, that's fine," she scoffs, "but you should know that there will be consequences if you continue to make mistakes." With that, she slams the door shut, leaving you alone and vulnerable.

As you try to regain your composure, you hear a knock on the window. Your heart races as you hope it's just the wind. However, when theres another knock, you reluctantly turn around to see none other than Jeon Jungkook himself–his timing could not be worse.

"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" You ask, your voice tired and frustrated. His eyes scan your face and body, and he immediately senses that something is wrong. "Sugar, what-" he begins to ask, but you cut him off.

"Jungkook, I asked you what you're doing here, especially this early in the day! My mom was just in my room and could've easily seen you!" You panic and start to ramble "I don't know what to do! I feel like everything is just spinning out of control. I've been dealing with so much lately and it's all just piling up. I feel like I'm suffocating and I don't know how to fix it." you start crying mid sentence, too tired of having to deal with it all

Jungkook quickly moved to lock the door behind him before anyone could walk in. You couldn't help but feel irritated at his presence. "I needed to see you," he finally breathed out. You let out a sarcastic chuckle and rolled your eyes.

"Well, have you thought that maybe not everything is about you?" you accused him, feeling the frustration from your terrible day bubble up inside you. "I've had the worst day ever and you just barge in here. Can't you see I don't want you here?" you snapped. Despite your outburst, Jungkook stood there, looking at you with concern. He slowly walked towards you, his arms opening up for a hug.

"Sugar..." he said softly, "dont cry- hey" he wipes a tear away "don't cry, pretty girl" You hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to his embrace.

As he held you close, you could feel the tension in his body. You knew he was aware of your anger, but he chose to ignore it. Sensing your discomfort, he asked, "Did you have a fight with your mom again?"

You only nod your head in response, burying your face deeper into his chest. Taking a deep breath he speaks up "I'm sorry. I should have at least sent a message letting you know I was coming over." His gentle touch pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and you felt the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

You couldn't help but feel guilty "no, I'm sorry." You needed him now more than ever.

"I need you"

Humming Jungkook squeezed your side, hugging you even closer "I'm here"

You couldn't help but smile through the tears as you felt his warmth. It was moments like these that made you realize how grateful you were to have him in your life.

As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety. “I think it's cause there's like an invisible string attached to us, and whenever I'm hurt, it pulls you closer to me” you explain and he smiles.

"You think so, sugar?" he asks softly

"I know so"

Jungkook's chest tightened at your words, and he felt a warmth spreading through him. He couldn't help but wonder if what he was feeling was more than just "liking"

Was he beginning to fall...in love with you? Looking into your eyes, he knew one thing for sure–he never wanted to let go of the invisible string that connected the two of you.