#and like who the fuck needs to track their pulse? or whatever else?
Note
Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz
A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ
You can read the first part here!
Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?
You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]
As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward.
If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats.
The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you.
Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind.
With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.
The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend.
"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks.
"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up.
"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively.
"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?"
"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable."
He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself.
Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned.
"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible.
"Um, Spencer?"
"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up.
"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day."
"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise."
"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on.
"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work."
"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier.
"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?"
You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.
He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out.
But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again.
You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.
"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well."
"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.
"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist.
"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this.
"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.
You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up.
"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs.
His fingers find your clit and you whimper.
"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves.
His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target.
"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck.
"Spencer, please, need you…"
"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you.
You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest.
He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice.
"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements.
You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion.
"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck.
"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust.
He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath.
"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess.
You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him.
"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours.
"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly.
"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply.
"What? I… What?"
"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements."
"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully.
"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?"
"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh.
"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint.
"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds smut#maturereiding
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I Promise
Slade Wilson x Fem reader
Requested by: none
Warnings: Swearing, angst, Violence, mentions of death.
A/n: If you don't like the warnings please don't read! PLEASE KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE! If you're comment is rude in any way, you'll be blocked. Ive been wanting to write a story like this for a while but haven't gotten around to it, my service is terrible so the app might just eat this lol
I know this isn't how Arrow went, but I'm just making my own thing out of it 😁
___
"Y/n, This is Slade Wilson." Moira said, holding her hand out towards a man on the couch.
Y/n felt dread wash through her as he stood, stepping over to her with a smile on his face. He firmly grasped her hand, the smile fading.
"A pleasure, Miss Queen."
"Let him go." Y/n had said, fear in her voice at the sight of Slade holding a knife to her brothers throat.
"Or what, little one? You'll attack me? Not likely."
Y/n and Oliver had fallowed Yao fei's directions to the crash site of a plane, only to be ambushed by a rather intimidatingly large man, Y/n had to admit she found him quite attractive.
"Fao Fei sent us!" She yelled, "I doubt it was so we could be killed by you."
He lowered his brows, staring her directly in the eye. No doubt trying to see if she was pulling a fast one or not. It took a few moments but he let go of her brother, but still didn't drop the knife.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"I'm Oliver Queen, and this is my sister Y/n."
"Sister? Funny, she looks nothing like you."
"I was adopted." Y/n grumbled. "Now who the hell are you, and why are you so fuckin special?"
"I'm Slade Wilson, and I have no idea why Yao Fei sent you to me."
Y/n threw her hands in the air, "Great, Ollie. This is great! We have an army attempting to track us down! We have an Australian jungle man with a sword and no way to get off this fuckin island! Yao Fei sends us here and none of us know why! This is just fuckin great!"
Y/n shook her head and sat on a nearby box. The men watched her, almost as if they thought she'd set the place a blaze with just one touch.
"What?" She asked.
"Nothing." Oliver replied, "But we need to get him out of there."
"Do you two know how to fight?"
"She does, I don't."
"Well then, I guess we begin your training tomorrow."
As time went on the three had gotten close, Y/n was surprised when Oliver learned how to fight. They had rescued Yao Fei, and met his daughter. Only for the poor SOB to get himself killed . Y/n and Slade had been attacked, Slade had gotten hurt and she had to drag him into a cave that was well hidden by large shrubs.
"Stay still, if I don't take this out then it will get infected!" Y/n yelled
"I'll do it myself!"
"The fuck you will!"
"It'd be wise to not argue with me!"
"Then shut the fuck up and there won't be an argument!"
Slade was almost shocked by her words, Y/n was never afraid to fight back or curse someone out, even if they were holding a gun in her face.
"It's not as bad as I thought, I stole some medical supplies on my way out of the camp."
"That's why you stopped?" He asked.
"Well yeah, can never have enough bandages and whatever else I grabbed."
Slade chucked, wincing in pain as she pressed a rag doused in alcohol against his wound.
"We need to keep moving." He grumbled. "They'll find us if we stay."
"We aren't leaving until night. Rest, Slade. I'll keep watch."
"Y/n? Are you alright?" Moira asked, gently gripping her arm.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"Okay, ill let you two get acquainted while I grab us some drinks."
When the older woman left the room Slade pulled Y/n closer, his breath hot against her ear.
"What's the matter, little one? You look surprised to see me."
"You were dead, Oliver said he killed you."
"Tell him to check for a pulse next time."
"Here we are!" Moira cheered, bringing a tray of whiskey glasses and the bottle.
"I can't stay." Y/n said. "I have some very important business that-"
"That can surely wait until after we give Mr. Wilson a tour of the mansion." Moira interrupted.
"Yes, Y/n. Why don't you stay?"
"Stay." Slade whispered. "If you leave me and they find this place, I won't be able to defend myself."
Y/n hesitated, ready to run out and find her brother, but her feelings for Slade pulled her back to his side.
"Alright, but one more hour and I'm hauling you out of here."
It was Y/n who saved him, who fought and defeated all those men to get him back to the plane. But he still had eyes for Shadow, when he was healed they began sparring again. Y/n had to watch as the man she loved was being swept off his feet by the woman who wanted Oliver.
She felt sick watching them roll around and tackle each other. Oliver could see how she felt and it made him sad, she deserved to be happy after all she had been through. It was because of him that she was cooped up on this island, nearly being killed every day.
"I'm outta here." Y/n muttered under her breath.
"Where are you going?" Slade asked, grabbing her arm.
"I don't know, I'm gonna go disarm a mine or catch a fish. Just let go of me."
He did. Watching her disappear through the trees, oblivious to how she felt for him.
"What's her problem?"
Oliver shrugged and went back to fumbling with a stick.
Y/n walked through the forest, climbing a tall tree and watching a few soldiers sneak around. She jumped down and took them out, bringing them to a cliff and pushing their bodies off.
She could feel the anger building inside her, the pent up rage just wanting to get out. Y/n wanted to hate Shadow, but it wasn't her fault. She felt so controlled being stuck on the island, not being able to leave, having to worry that she'd wake up in a cage or not wake up at all.
"You have a lovely home, Miss Queen." Slade said, kissing her hand.
"Oh please, call me Moira."
"Of course, Moira. Unfortunately I have to be going, I look forward to seeing you again."
"As do I. Y/n could you see Mr. Wilson to his car?"
Y/n nodded and lead him outside. The trip was quiet, all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.
"Slade, why are you here?" She asked, watching as he got in his car.
"Five years ago I made you a promise, Y/n. Well I'm here to fulfill it."
Y/n pointed a gun to his head, tears running down her cheeks.
"You won't do it, princess. You and I both know, your heart won't let you. Best to stop pretending to be someone you're not."
"I won't let you kill her." She whispered.
"How do you know it's Moira I'll kill? Maybe it'll be Oliver, or Thea. We'll just have to see, won't we?"
Tears stung Y/n's eyes as she sat with Slade, the others had already left but she couldn't pull herself away just yet. The sight of him drove a knife through her, his dead body leaned against a crate. A lantern casting their shadows over the wall, the cold of the room making Y/n feel so lost and alone.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered. "If I could've saved you I would've, even if I had to suffer through watching you fawn over Shadow. Id go through that pain, just to have you breath again."
She couldn't hold back anymore, her quiet sobs filled the room as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.
"I would give my life for you Slade."
The sound of people yelling outside ripped Y/n from her sorrow. She took Slade's gun and slowly made her way to the noise, watching as Shadow and Oliver were put to their knees by the same people they've been fighting on this island since they got here.
"Where is she!?" The leader yelled, pointing a gun at Oliver.
"I'm right here you fuckin chump!" Y/n called from over his shoulder.
"Ahh, Y/n. So good of you to join us, put her on her knees with her friends."
She was pushed to the ground next to Oliver, all she could think about was Slade as the man started his big speech on how long he's been trying to catch them.
"But you Y/n, you've caused me the most trouble." He growled. "Whenever I got close to finding you or perfecting the Mirakuru, you had to destroy it. You've ruined everything I worked for! So now...I'm gonna make you choose."
"What?" Y/n asked.
"You heard me! Choose! Who do I kill!? Shadow or Oliver!?"
She was stunned by his question, the pain of Slade's death still raw in her system.
"Who!? CHOOSE!"
"Me! You son of a bitch!" She cried. "Me! shoot me for fuck sake!"
The man chuckled, pointing the gun at Shadow. "Wrong answer."
The sound of a gun shot rang through her ears and Shadows lifeless body falling to the ground had Oliver screaming. Y/n shook her head, not knowing what else to do. She charged at the man, throwing him to the ground. Y/n took his gun and fired it at a few of his men, taking Oliver by the arm and running into the woods.
They made it back to the plane and Y/n collapsed, her breathing was rapid and her heart was racing. Her hands shook with the rest of her body as her vision went black.
"Oliver!" Y/n yelled, running into Arrows headquarters.
"What!? What's going on!?"
"It's Slade! He's back! I don't know how but he's back!"
Oliver ran over, wrapping his sobbing sister in a hug. The same memories racing through his head.
"It'll be alright, everything is gonna be alright."
"H-he's gonna kill you."
It had been weeks since Shadows death and here Y/n was running from more men with guns, she had just escaped a cell, and was on her way back to the plane when they came out of nowhere.
"Get her!" They yelled, racing through the trees and vines.
She was about to book it down a hill to the shore, when a hand came over her mouth, and she was pulled into that same hidden cave.
Y/n attempted to pushed the person away when she felt their chest against her back, but she was hushed by a familiar voice.
"Slade?" She asked, her own voice sounding shakey.
"Quiet, Princess. They're right outside."
They watched through the brush and vines as the men ran past and down the hill. Slade loosened his grip on her, allowing Y/n to turn around.
Her eyes scanned his face, not a scratch.
"How?" She asked.
"The Mirakuru. It healed me."
"It thought it killed you."
"Yeah, then it healed me."
Y/n pulled him into a hug, the feeling of his arms wrap around her made her heart race.
"Is Oliver and Shadow alright?" He asked.
Y/n slowly pulled away, dread written all over her face. "It's only me and Oliver now..."
Slade swallowed, "Where's Shadow?"
"After you died, we were captured. And a the guy that made the Mirakuru shot her."
His eyes filled with tears, "Do you know where he is?"
"Y-yes, Slade I'm so sorry."
"Can you take me to him?"
"...yeah, I can."
The two of them made it to the camp, they hid just outside and watched. Y/n could feel the anger and hurt radiating off of him. He's feeling just how she felt whenever she saw Slade and Shadow together.
"Is he in there?" He asked, pointing at the largest tent in the camp.
"Yeah, but he's got guards."
"You stay here, I'll make this quick."
Without another word he made his way through the brush and out of sight. Y/n did as she was told and stayed there, she was expecting him to be out within minutes but when an hour had passed, she knew something was wrong.
Y/n was about to go in after him when she heard a twig snap behind her, and a gun press to the back of her head.
She slowly put her hands up and turned around, it was the man that killed Shadow. His face was twisted into an evil grin. Y/n was about to jump at him, but before she could a hard object hit her in the side of the head.
Y/n woke up in a cell, it was wet and she could hear waves outside. She rolled over to see that she was below deck of a ship.
Y/n sat up clutching her head, she looked around to get her bearings. She saw the man who killed Shadow, a few of his guys and...Slade?
"Slade?" She asked.
He turned, the look in his eyes was hatred and pain. This wasn't Slade, not mentally anyway.
"Are you okay?"
He didn't answer, only stepped closer to the bars of her cell.
"He just shot her, huh?" He asked.
"What?"
"Shadow! He just shot her!? Funny, he tells me you chose to have her shot!"
"Slade I-"
She was cut off by the feeling of a blade being pressed to her stomach.
"I wanna show you something."
He opened her cell door and stepped away so the guards could grab her, once again she was thrown to her knees in front of the same man.
"Show me how you did it." He growled.
"What?" The man asked.
Slade handed him his gun, "You killed her didn't you, show me how you did it."
"No, she chose."
"I chose?" Y/n asked, getting to her feet. "You wanna know what happened? All three of us were on our knees, he told me to choose but I was so torn from seeing you die that I couldn't comprehend what he said. So he said it again, and I told him to shoot me. And you know what he did?"
She stepped closer, "He laughed, he pointed the gun at her and said "Wrong choice" then he shot her."
Slade looked at her, he could see the tears in her eyes as well as what she was saying was the truth.
"I didn't choose Shadow, he did."
Y/n was expecting I'm to put down his weapon and let her go free, but that wasn't the case.
"I don't care." He said. "If you hadn't chosen yourself, Shadow would still be dead."
Slade turned to the man who killed her. "Is that how you pointed the gun?"
"Y-yes."
Slade suddenly sliced the man's hand off, taking Y/n by surprise.
"Take him out of here."
Y/n watched them drag him away as Slade slowly came towards her. "You love me." He whispered.
Her heart sank at his words, "How-"
"Oliver told me."
"When?"
"Two days before I died."
Y/n felt small and helpless as he got even closer, towering over her.
"You would've chosen Shadow anyway, because you were jealous of her. You hated her didn't you? Because she had my love and you didn't."
"That's not true, Slade. I didn't hate her, she was my friend."
"No, I bet you were happy to see her die. Only to remember I was gone as well."
"This is the Mirakuru talking isn't it? You're not acting like yourself, the Slade I know wouldn't blame me for Shadows death!"
"It is your fault!"
"Then kill me! Then fuckin kill me!"
Slade shook his head, and began circling her. "No, you cannot die until you have suffered the same way I have suffered. Until you have felt every single shred of pain I have."
He got close to her once again, she could feel his hot breath against her neck.
"I won't kill you, until you feel complete despair. And you will...I promise."
To be continued...
I hope you enjoyed ❤️
Reblogs are welcome 🤗
#fyp#fanfic#foryou#foryoupage#x reader#slade wilson#slade wilson x reader#slade wilson x Fem reader#requested#deathstroke#death stroke x reader#slade Wilson x y/n#slade wilson x you#arrow slade wilson#slade wilson arrow
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On Set (2/2)
Warnings: smut!
Words: 2.6k
A/N: i feel like i always write too much someone pls help me
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It had been a week since your little interaction with Q and ever since then, you had avoided him like the fucking plague. Ducking behind equipment and hiding when he passed by, pretending to be immersed in a conversation when he was close, outright changing the direction you were walking when you saw him. You even went out of your way to take a sick day when you knew Q had to film a part of the show on his own for one of the Jokers’ punishments, just so you wouldn’t have to be around only him.
Q hadn’t tried to approach you, but you knew you could only play this game for so long. It was tiring having to be on your toes, and it made your job much harder when you were never relaxed.
“Sound check?” One of the crew yelled out. You came back into the moment and sent your coworker a thumbs up, signalling that everything was good on your end.
“1, 2, and,” Pete pointed towards the Jokers on ‘3’ and they filmed their intro, this challenge being ‘putpocketing’ in the grocery store. This was one of the crew’s favourite challenges as it was always amusing to see the Jokers make new ways to place pencils or whatever it was into unsuspecting peoples pockets.
“Got it, everyone get set up and we’ll meet back in an hour,” you listened to Pete’s orders and slid your headphones down so they hung around your neck, the heavy material pressing against your skin uncomfortably. You grabbed a few things you needed and walked into the grocery store, discreetly fixing a couple mics that you taped up against counters and shelves to pick up audio clearly.
You had finished your job for now but you were too afraid to go out and smoke, knowing that the risk of running into Brian and not having an excuse to avoid him was far greater outside than it was around other people. The craving of a fresh cigarette was on your mind though, and with the stress you had carried the past week, you needed a break.
If you were quick about it, you wouldn’t bump into him.
With that thought, you scoped him out in the crowd of staff and made sure he was engaged in conversation before silently whisking out the door and around the corner of the store. You let out a hefty sigh and leaned your back fully against the brick wall, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting with your elbows resting on your knees.
The ground was disgusting, you knew that, but you didn’t care. It felt nice to be in the slight breeze, away from the suffocating humidity indoors. You pulled out a cigarette from your pocket along with a lighter that you now made sure to carry everywhere.
You lit the dart and took a drag, allowing the smoke to warm your insides before letting it out through your nose, the familiar smell encasing you. You had a hard time smoking without thinking about Brian and the way you almost kissed him. It proved difficult to smoke even on break at work, just because the thought of running into him and having to talk to him made your pulse quicken.
The world seemed to work against you, though, because you heard the door open a couple feet away on your right. Who else would it be but Q?
You knew he already saw you but you hastily stood up and brushed yourself off, turning to your left and stepping away as fast as you could. That was the plan, at least. You only made it a few steps before his voice stopped you dead in your tracks.
“Y/N, hold on,” he huffed, and you heard the gravel crunch beneath his sneakers as he walked closer to you. He was now behind you and you had no choice but to turn around, desperately looking everywhere but in his eyes.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?” Brian’s voice was strained and you could tell he was upset. The anger in his voice startled you a bit, as he was never the type to get mad at anyone.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you played dumb, still looking down at your boots. You saw his feet step closer and when you finally looked up, the closeness between you two made you lose your breath.
“Right,” he scoffed, “I feel like I haven’t even seen you since we smoked together.”
“Okay? I’ve been busy,” you retorted, shuffling away from him slightly. He scoffed again and crossed his arms, trying to catch your eye. You kept looking away.
“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I told you I’ve been busy,” you wanted nothing more than to turn on your heel and bolt, but you knew that would only make things worse.
“Fuck sake,” Brian used one hand to rub his face, “I’m sorry if what I did made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Okay.”
“I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Okay,” you responded again. You could tell he was growing more and more frustrated, but you didn’t care. If he had kissed you and Pete saw, you would have lost your job. It didn’t matter who he kissed because Pete couldn’t fire one of the Jokers, but he could fire you without a second thought. You risked your job by being that close with Brian and he risked absolutely nothing.
“Please stop avoidin’ me. I can’t deal with it.”
“Why does it matter if I avoid you? It’s not like I’m the only person you talk to on set,” you quipped, feeling annoyed.
“I enjoy talkin’ to you, and after what I did,” he huffed, “I felt like I almost fucked up the relationship we have.”
“Almost?” You repeated incredulously, “what the fuck do you mean almost?”
He gave you a quizzical look and you felt every emotion you carried brew up inside you.
“I know you don’t give a shit who you flirt with, but it matters to me. If Pete had seen that, I wouldn’t fucking be here,” you raised your voice a bit, “I can’t believe how hard headed you are.”
“You’re kiddin’,” Brian furrowed his brows, “I know I did somethin’ wrong, but that doesn’t mean you get to call me hard headed.”
“It’s the only thing I can think of that describes you. You think with your dick, Brian.”
You could practically see the steam pouring from Brian’s ears, but you felt the exact same. You were furious with him.
“Don’t fuckin’ talk to me like that.”
Despite the heated moment you two were having, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar wetness pool between your legs. With the way Brian’s voice grew deeper and more commanding, his arms crossed and his shoulders looking bigger, all you could think about was dropping to your knees and relieving both of your anger.
“Or what, Brian? You know that it’s true.”
“Do you ever know when to shut the fuck up?” He growled, and you were taken slightly aback. You didn’t expect that from him.
Before you could even blink you were being pressed up against the hard brick wall, your breath speeding up and your heart working overtime. You didn’t even think as you grabbed the collar of Brian’s shirt and roughly pulled him towards you, connecting your lips.
The kiss set off fireworks in your stomach and it made your mind fuzzy. If Brian’s big hands weren’t planted firmly on your waist, you would have toppled over.
Brian was relentless in his hungry kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and his teeth pulling your bottom lip slightly when he detached his lips from yours. He took a second to breathe deeply and you did the same, trying your best to calm yourself down. Your face was hot, your palms were sweaty, and you were turned on beyond belief. Everything you were feeling was wrong.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” Brian murmured in a low tone. The only thing you could do was pull him in for another breathtaking kiss, all but melting into him. He held onto you like his life depended on it.
Brian pulled away from you and held onto your wrist, gently but sternly guiding you back into the grocery store. You loosened your wrist from his grip and he looked back at you, confused.
“What are you doing? Everyone’s gonna see us,” you whisper-yelled at him.
“So let them. If Pete fires you, I’ll fire him,” he told you, not leaving any room for arguments. You were still extremely nervous but did your best to discreetly follow Brian as he slipped into a nearby bathroom.
Once the two of you were in there, his lips were attached to your neck, littering hickies on your soft skin. He was careful not to make them dark, which you were grateful for.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Brian murmured into your skin, his hands sliding under your shirt and tracing the bottom of your bra. You felt tingles every time he moved his hands. He slowly lifted your shirt, holding the bottom of it to your lips until you bit down on it so your bra was exposed to him.
“Every time you walked past me,” he mumbled through the kisses he left on the top of your breasts, “I could smell your fuckin’ perfume. It drove me crazy.”
You moaned in response, your hands tugging at his hair and pulling him closer. The shirt you held between your teeth blocked some of your view of him, so you quickly took it off.
“Fuck, you feel what you do to me?” Brian groaned, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on top of his pants. You could feel his cock through his jeans and he let out a sharp exhale when you squeezed gently.
He allowed you to leave your hand on his pants as he leaned into you again, kissing you once more. This time it was slow, and you let yourself pour everything you felt into the kiss. You felt him do the same, one of his hands cupping your cheek as he pulled you impossibly close.
“Brian, if we’re gonna fuck, you better hurry up,” you whispered against his now swollen lips. He laughed and gave you another quick peck before shedding his shirt and throwing it on the ground next to yours.
Your pants were next, and he pulled them down to your ankles but didn’t waste time on taking them all the way off. He did the same with his own pants and boxers, only lowering them enough for his cock to spring free.
You reached out to touch him but he swiftly pinned your hand against the door, leaning in to kiss your cheek affectionately.
“I’ll cum too fast if you touch me right now,” he admitted with a chuckle, but you could tell he was slightly embarrassed. In your opinion, it was hot. It was hot that he was so desperate for you that even your touch could set him off.
“I won’t. Touch me,” you answered. He grinned at you and pulled your sports bra down so your breasts could spill out from the top. He quickly took one nipple in his mouth and used his free hand to tug and play with your other nipple before switching.
His movements were sloppy and needy, but you couldn’t blame him. You felt the exact same way. You had for quite some time.
A loud moan caught in your throat when Brian’s hands traced the waistband of your underwear, pulling it slightly and letting it snap against your skin. He slid his finger down to rub over your clit through your underwear and you tried to stay quiet as you moaned, reaching one hand down to hold onto his wrist.
He rubbed circles on your clit, leaving you impossibly wet. You messily pressed your lips to him and hummed into his mouth when he moved his finger just right.
“Enough, Quinn, we don’t have time,” you mumbled, nibbling on his earlobe and placing a few kisses on the side of his neck. He only grunted in response before removing his hands from you in order to pump his cock a few times, making sure you both were ready.
Brian didn’t bother taking off your underwear, he instead pushed it aside and in one swift movement, he entered you. Both of you moaned at the satisfaction of the feeling, and his head dropped to your shoulder as soon as he started to thrust.
The cold wall was uncomfortable on your naked back but you paid it no mind because all you could focus on was the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, and the sound of his fast breaths meshed with the occasional grunt.
“Fuck, right there,” you whined into his ear as you felt him hold onto your hips and pull them down to meet each of his thrusts. He was going at a fast pace, trying to make sure you both could cum before you had to leave.
“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he groaned, his words muffled as he bit down on your shoulder slightly. You scratched your hands down his back, feeling ecstasy pumping in your veins as he hit your sweet spot over and over.
You felt Brian tap two fingers on your thigh and you took that as an invitation to jump up. He caught both of your legs and guided you so they were wrapped around his waist, allowing him to crowd you further against the wall and reach even deeper with his movements.
Each of his hard thrusts drove you closer and closer to the edge, and in no time, you were falling over it with barely any warning. Your core tightened around Brian and he groaned loudly, his hands running up and down your body.
“Shit, Y/N, ‘m so close,” he stuttered through his words. You once again clenched around him and he whimpered at that.
“Cum for me, Bri,” you murmured into his ear along with a few more praises. That was all it took for him to twitch inside you for a moment, his cum spilling into you as he let out a sharp exhale.
“That was-“
“Perfect,” he finished your sentence, slowly pulling out of you and smirking when he saw his cum leaking out onto the inside of your thighs and all over your underwear.
“Are you gonna stand there and smile like an idiot or are you gonna help me clean up?” You snorted, pushing past him to get the toilet paper and wipe yourself off. You tossed him a few clean squares and he also cleaned up before tossing it in the trash.
Once you fixed your clothes and hair, you made your way to the door. As soon as you put your hand on the handle, Brian was holding your waist from behind to stop you.
“Before you go,” he mumbled into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime.”
You turned around and looked at him like he had three heads.
“Do you know how crazy you sound?”
“Why is that crazy? I love bein’ around you and the sex is fuckin’ incredible,” he grinned, making you smile a little in turn. You knew that a relationship with him would be difficult.
But with the way he held onto your waist so possessively and the way his eyes stared down at you with nothing but care behind them, you just couldn’t resist.
#brian quinn#brian quinn imagine#brian x reader#quinn x reader#q x reader#james murray#joe gatto#sal vulcano#the tenderloins#impractical jokers
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Coffee break drabble time::
(Because oh I need this )
****
"Coffee time"::
***
There was something....distinctly different about the Noah sitting in that chair, Evie couldn't quite put her finger on it but the usually staid if...uptight man was...honestly it seemed a bit frazzled today.
Maybe that jolt from this morning had affected the Bridge more than they'd ever allow publically, nonetheless one had to feel bad for the guy.
It couldn't have been nice being stuck as the Harridan's messenger boy. Especially when, at least to Evie's admitted biased eye...Noah was far...far more capable than Lieutenant Vera or whatever imaginary military title she had given herself.
Was there even still technically a "military"? Sure the Bridge was well in charge obviously but it wasn't like they were reporting to any of the known Higher Ups of the world, definitely not the US. If those pictures on TV were actually...and they were...awfully...
...was anyone left up there?
It seemed too horrifying a thought, that for the whim of a madman and Evie's own impulsive curiosity to follow a text from an unknown number...
She shuddered. Never mind, the nip in her head was also a slight reminder just don't worry about it, don't think too much, live by the day.
Noah had invited her here as an apology or whatever- she wasn't all too sure she was going to accept it yet, he had been an absolute - do excuse her crass language - asshole.
So why was Evie walking over to the quaint little out of place cafe area that was disturbingly... passing for a nice coffee shop on the Bay. Only instead of sea gulls and sea lions yelling out the window it was... silence.
Just....silence.
Who knew the ocean was so damn...quiet.
The man straightened up before near jumping out of his seat at her approach, fuck he was quick, she was taken aback by the sheer speed, again, he must have done track. There was no way he hadn't. Maybe if they got him in a stadium or something it'd jolt his memory.
Still though.
"Miss Noire!" She bristled but he adjusted his shirt- ah, look at that, sporting a nice "Civilian" look today, well wasnt that nice.
"I don't see the jacket, my name is fine."
"o-oh. Right. Of course uh, I knew that."
"no you didn't."
"...yeah you're right." He muttered but then cleared his throat. "Won't you sit down?" He pulled a chair out.
"I agreed to give you five minutes to state your case so don't go treating this like having coffee lala la." She saved his chivalry off. "Your timer starts now. Go ahead, tell me why you're not an asshole."
He said nothing, only sat down himself and pushed a pulsing cup of coffee towards her. She raised an eyebrow. "You know, ordering my coffee for me isn't going to help the whole - you're a control freak - just saying."
"I know, I know but just- drink it, trust me, you'll like it"
"again...not helping your case." She mumbled but....impossible. no...no way.
"is this mocha?!"
"it might be."
Evelyn hurriedly put the cup down and if that wasn't a shit eating smug - I win kind of smirk on that...that ...
"how...?"
"I have my ways."
"I thought we had a shortage so we have to ration sugar, that's what the Bridge said."
He scoffed, "Well, she's not the boss of me."
"uh...yes she is? And I said the Bridge not Vera, what is she pulling a coup or something?" Evie scoffed. "Oh yes, I too want full control of the world's most glorified sardine can, but seriously how'd you get this?"
He snorted, "the woman has a stash, she won't miss one-."
"oh you wanna bet? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" She hissed. "The woman loses her shit at the drop of a hat, for fuck's sake she almost pulled a gun at someone just...back talking her."
"she's easily irritated."
"she's a power hungry maniac!"
"That too, but I'm not afraid of her, you miss your mocha coffee, well here you are. I will get you mocha."
"that's hardly fair to everyone else."
"the shortage will end soon enough, you deserve a treat for what you've been through."
"... do I now?" She murmured.
He leaned forward then, almost nose to nose before he cupped her hands over the steaming mug.
"I believe very much you do so that's the end of it."
"...she's gonna kill you."
"worth it." He pulled back. "Now then, has this earned me...even a hint of a brownie point? Hm?"
Evie averted her gaze. "... you have seven minutes because I'm a sell out." She mumbled.
"Lucky me." He murmured.
****
CHaSM:
Because after that meeting fuck it give ME all the coffee in the world xD
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I forget what I was at Best Buy for at the time, but I told the employee who was helping me that I thought Apple Watches were stupid and he acted like I fucking punched him or something. He was so fucking offended.
#rachel’s rambling#I keep thinking about this because I mentioned shirabu wearing one in this fic#I still think they’re fucking stupid like use a phone???#I don’t even know what they do tbh but I was always like why??? when I worked in a restaurant last and everyone had one#like we were getting paid minimum wage and they were like yeah!! they’re so cool!! and they like didn’t do anything???#you could read texts?? but like you can do that on your phone??#and like who the fuck needs to track their pulse? or whatever else?#my dad said you could make calls on them because I told him about the employee at best buy#but like it seems like they just do things your phone can do without actually doing those things??#like you can SEE texts but you can’t fucking reply??#but also I mainly use my phone for like writing or tumblr or music so I guess it might be useless to me#I only have an iPhone because it’s what I’m used to#and I’m used to it because I was 11 when they came out which they were the first smart phones#and eventually all the other kids in school got them and I wanted one too!!#so by the time I was like 15 and ready to drop out I finally got the 4#that would’ve been in 2012#I think?? timeline wise I might be wrong but like I dunno#but I probably wouldn’t have an iPhone if they weren’t the popular ones first tbh#I know I’ve mentioned before I was a ‘I’m not like other girls teenager’ but I also fell into ‘everyone else does this’ make up your mind#also I’m coming back after I threw this in my drafts and I googled what an Apple Watch does#and google just gave me shopping recommendations for a $98k watch#which gave me flashbacks to the time I was at Joanns in Pittsburgh and they have high end sewing machines set up and a sale person was like#oh are you looking to buy? some of them cost more than my car which I do not pay for so um no no I wasn’t#I’m talking like $12k sewing machines I’d love to have a high end husqvarna or janome or something but that’s more than my car
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Too Much to Handle
Type: One-Shot (Completed)
Warnings: NSFW !!! , Explicit Content
Tags: Orgasm Denial, Smut, Slight Angst, Hurt/ Comfort, Fluff, BDSM, Edging, Crying, Creampie, Pwp
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: Noritoshi edges you every single night for 5 days. But edging you repeatedly, may not have been the best idea.
You currently have a very pleasant sex life with Noritoshi, your beloved boyfriend. Everything was in place. Trust, mood, and of course, safe words.
Adzuki (red beans) to stop. Matcha to slow down. Simple as that and usually nothing went wrong in the bedroom. You were on birth control pills, which made it so much easier for the both of you.
"Hey, how do you feel about orgasm denial?" Noritoshi asks you one night. You've been curious about it, knowing that you have good stamina and a solid track record of being patient.
"Sounds okay," You shrugged. You've done all sorts of things with him already in bed, and so far you've loved every single one. "Why not?"
Oh you were going to eat those words of yours.
You both agreed to edging you and only you for 4 days, while Noritoshi got to come over your body at the end of every session. He loves seeing you covered in him. Smelling like him.
You enjoyed it at first, loving it when he pumps his cum over your lips. Then you suck the head of his cock into your mouth, taking in as much cum as you can. His soft groans and praises make you light up.
He carefully thrusts two fingers into you, pumping in and out while he presses a vibrator against your clit. Removing them everytime you come near climax.
He was able to watch and experiment with your body a lot. Knowing exactly where your sweet spots are, and what makes you cum.
Noritoshi found it simply divine. Hearing you sob and moan his name so beautifully. Begging and promising to do anything in exchange to cum. Your hips lifting and following the vibrator everytime he moves his hands. Pink pussy watery and so wet, but unable to cum. Twitching and fluttering around nothing.
How your mouth waters as you stare at his long fingers.
He gives you consolation from time to time, letting you suck either his fingers or his dick. He also leaves sloppy wet kisses in your inner thigh and against the skin around your clit, making your hips push up.
You fall back against the bed after every session. His cuddles and kisses trying to cover up for the aching feeling down between your legs.
But on the night of the 4th day, you were at your limit. It was actually so frustrating to be edged, only to be stopped. It was difficult to fall asleep after.
You were miserable and horny, but incredibly excited for the next night.
Only for Noritoshi to suggest something else the next day, "Do you think you can try for one more night?" He asked.
You gulped, seeing him look not so secretly pleased. 'He looks like he's really enjoying this. I don't wanna disappoint him.'
"Don't worry, I'll let you come tonight. I just have some ideas in mind, but I wanted it to be a surprise." He smirked.
"Okay. I'll be good for you." You meekly answered. His smile was so warm and loving, you forgot about your needs for a bit, hugging him tight.
"Such a good girl for me darling. I love you."
"I love you too Toshi."
But you were at wits end later that night. Stark naked, with the addition of handcuffs and some ropes to hold you down. Your legs spread far apart, exposing your quivering cunt.
It's been 2 hours of edging. Scratch that, it's been 5 nights. You were close to breaking.
You sobbed for the millionth time that week as Noritoshi kissed your pussy and sat back to pause.
He pressed the vibrator against your clit, watching as your legs shook, only to remove it as you started trembling.
"You can't come yet." He said softly, yet firmly.
"Why not?" You gasped. "I've been so good for you."
Noritoshi's eyebrows raised. "Because I say so." Edging you multiple more times. He was so focused on your body that he failed to see tears streaming down against your temples.
"Toshiii," You were full on sobbing and shaking. "Please let me cum. Adzuki! Adzuki! I can't do this anymore! Adzuki!"
Static white noise.
Noritoshi heard his pulse thunder against his ears upon hearing you use your safe word. Never had you ever used it before. Not even when he tied you up and fucked you over 5 rounds that one night until you were a sobbing drooling mess.
"Nuh-no more!! No! Don't want!" You babbled and shook your head, trying to move away from him.
His heart broke to see you like this.
He dropped everything, undoing your ties and massaging your limp arms, pulling you close as you cried frustratedly into his chest, cuddling and frantically hushing you.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You were apologising as you shook your head and pushed him away.
No. This was not how it was supposed to go.
"Baby I'm the one who's sorry. Shhhhh, Toshi is here. Okay, I'll stop, I'll make you cum. I promise." He rushed the words out in a hurry.
"I'm sorry," You kept repeating apologies, crying and shaking your head. You didn't seem to hear a word he was saying.
He pressed his lips tenderly into yours and breathed air into your mouth. "Follow my breaths." He commanded.
That tone. He used that voice you could never resist listening to and following. So you slowed down your breathing until you matched his pace. He rubbed slow circles onto your back.
"You're such a good girl. The best, my one and only angel," he softly cooed. You preened, feeling yourself slip further into a subspace. Your head felt so foggy.
"Why are you apologising?" He asked gently as he finally notices your tears and wipes it away.
Your lips started trembling, " buh-Because I cuh-couldn't do it anymore. I'm not *hic* good enough for yuh-you. I wuh-wanted to come but you…. said… hold off longer… can't-" you started breathing heavily again but he kissed you to distract you.
"No, no that's not your fault. That's mine for not taking care of you properly. I pushed you way past your limits. I'm sorry. You are more than enough for me, you know that. Can you forgive Toshi?" He nuzzled into the side of your face.
Deep inside, Noritoshi was actually losing it. Mentally slapping himself for letting you feel this way to the point you had to use a safe word. He never wanted you to feel this way with him.
"But I wuh-want t-to feel good together with you. I can handle maybe 3 days of no cumming, but 5 is too much," You hiccuped.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I know that now. Whatever you want, I'll do for you now. Okay?"
You looked up at him with the biggest eyes ever, his heart clenched. "Anything?"
"Anything. As long as it won't hurt the both of us, I'll do it for you." He promised.
For someone who was so desperate to come, he watched you become shy. But the words that came out weren't, "Make love to me. Cum inside me Toshi." You begged him.
"Okay, if that's what you want." He quickly set to removing his clothes and fixed the bed, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be.
"Like this. I wanna face you. Stay close." You whimpered, holding out two hands.
Missionary position. Noritoshi's and your personal favorite, because of how intimate it is. He pushes your legs far apart, revealing your aching hole.
You were still loose from the stretching he did earlier, but there was a slight burn as he entered you. You welcomed it wholeheartedly.
His cock was inside. His cock was inside of you. Finally!
You teared up again, wanting this for so long.
"Shhhh," he tried to calm you down as you cried some more.
"So happy, you're finally inside of me Toshi," You sniffed.
Distantly, Noritoshi thought he heard something like a tightly coiled string snap. You looked absolutely delectable right now. Pussy a bright red and your face a teary mess.
He was rock hard down there as he started out with deep and shallow thrusts.
"Yes, yes, more, give" You moaned, hooking your legs around his waist to prevent him from pulling all the way out.
"Anything for my angel." Noritoshi sucked on that tender part of skin under your ear.
You felt him glide in and out of you and it was such a relief against your vaginal walls.
You went on like that with him for a while, with Noritoshi stroking your cheek, making sure you felt good as he started to move faster.
But something felt off. "Toshi," You cried.
"What is it baby?" He looked over you in alarm.
"Can't cum. Don't know. Feels weird." Your body wasn't used to it anymore, the sensations feeling familiar but not exactly the same as before.
You felt absolutely horrible, your body was at that knife's edge of tipping into orgasm, but it wouldn't.
"Listen to me okay? Let it happen. Do you trust me? Do you trust your Toshi?"
You looked up into his eyes, and was surprised by their intensity. So dark. His hair, his eyes, his expression. His focus was 120% on you. On making you feel good.
You loved that about Noritoshi. He was incredibly sincere and pure hearted about everything he did. "Yes I trust you. I love you."
"I love you too Angel. Hold on tight." He let you grip onto his shoulders as he held onto your hips and started slamming his hips up and down, driving his cock so deep like it never did before.
He watched as you yelped at a certain angle, and changed his thrusts to hit that soft spot deep inside.
Your arms shot out to grab the sheets beside you as you keened, feeling intense pleasure while Noritoshi hits your G spot repeatedly.
"Please, please," You whined, tears falling past your cheeks, breaths uneven.
"There there now. Toshi is here. You're allowed to cum anytime. I will give it to you." He kissed away your tears and pressed close as he continued to pound into you.
Your breath hitched, feeling him poke against your tummy. "Toshii, I ugh-" you started to lose coherence as you felt a wild spark of heat down below.
"Let go." Noritoshi refused to come before you did, holding off his orgasm despite how your velvety wet insides molded and squeezed him perfectly.
He reached down with one hand to furiously rub your clit, lighting up all the nerves in your body. He used his cursed technique to move faster and faster, hips moving at an unearthly pace.
"Toshiiii-ahhhhn!" You screamed as your body violently convulsed, your pussy creaming around his cock and contracting madly as you finally came. It was the hardest and most intense one that you've ever experienced.
"That's it, my angel, come for me." He praised you as your screams increased in pitch and volume. He held you down as you thrashed about, not wanting you to slip off of him.
You tightened so much that it almost made him cum right away. Almost.
Noritoshi hooked his arms around your legs as he chased off his own orgasm. Skin slapping harshly against skin. He pushed in at a deeper angle.
"Yesyesyes," You moaned despite still reeling from your orgasm high. "Fuck me, fuck yes, more!"
Noritoshi was practically snarling as he continued pummeling into you, finally cumming and stuffing you full. "So tight! You've been so good for me, and look at you. You're perfect baby."
You trembled even harder upon feeling his dick throb and the cum slosh inside of you.
"Are you still coming? You're such a good girl, coming on my cock like this. So pretty." He grinded deeper and continued playing with your clit and nipples, making you twitch as you rode out your second orgasm gently.
You made sounds of choking and gasping which made him slow down. "Is that too much for you? It's okay baby. It's okay."
You tried to reply, but all that came out was a string of incoherent sounds, like a baby's babbling. Noritoshi smiled.
He made you cum 4 more times and stuffed you well past your capacity, feeling his seed seep out of your cunny and run down your ass. Pressing you down against the mattress as he rutted into you as he continued spurting loads inside of you.
You refused to let him pull out even when he grew soft.
"Stay."
And so Noritoshi did, because he promised you anything you wanted.
You sniffed quietly, but he heard it of course. "Baby" He cooed as he held you closer, but you refused to look into his eyes.
"Don't tell me you're still mad?"
You pouted, but shook your head. "I agreed to it. I wanted to be so good for you-"
"You are," he cut you. "You are so good. 5 days as opposed to the original 4 nights. I really was supposed to make you come tonight. And you did so well to make it this far, but I won't push you to do something like this anymore. It's my fault for extending it."
You shut your eyes. "I thought you would be disappointed if I told you I couldn't do it. You looked so excited to try out so much stuff in the bedroom." You bit your lip hard, but he reached out to stop you from doing that.
You sucked on his fingers while he pressed his lips against your forehead. "I won't be disappointed if you tell me no. I need to know the extent of your boundaries, so we can work out what's best for the both of us. Don't think I'd leave you for someone else who could last a week without cumming just because. That's not how I feel. I want to experiment with you and you only. You understand?"
You finally looked up at him and you were shocked to see how worried he was. Eyebrows all scrunched up. A big frown on his face. You kissed him, "I understand."
He pressed in closer. "Good girl. Such a good girl for Toshi. I'm so proud of you."
You let out a sob at that. And he patted your back as you cried off whatever heaviness you had left inside of your chest, emotional baggage now a lot lighter.
"You're right. I was scared you'd leave for someone who could handle you better in bed." You whispered after you finally calmed down.
"Mmm, not gonna happen. Ever. You're stuck with me. Forever."
"Forever sounds nice Toshi."
Author's Notes: When I say that I'm so down bad for Noritoshi, I legit am on Noritoshi brain rot. And me being stuck at home with a lockdown is definitely fueling this XD. I'm supposed to be working on Blood Bound, but I couldn't help but write this because I felt the sudden urge to.
Hope you enjoyed reading! - Mon
#Jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk imagines#Noritoshi smut#kamo noritoshi x you#kamo noritoshi x reader#kamo noritoshi smut#kamo noritoshi#jjk smut#jjk fluff#jjk angst#noritoshi x y/n#noritoshi x o/c#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x oc#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen smut#noritoshi hcs#noritoshi headcanons#jjk hcs
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Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)
Rating: M (Explicit 18+)
Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship
Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader
Word Count: 15.1K
Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.
CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook
Series: Activate your SIMCard
Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)
Do not repost.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.
At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.
While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.
It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.
You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.
You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.
Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.
Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.
Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.
You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.
You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?
When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.
[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]
How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.
You: I told you not to fucking find me on here
It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.
Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you
Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me
You: Don’t worry I’m gonna
Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh
You: ???
Jungkook: Your legs
Jungkook: Like oreos
Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜
Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.
You: I wish I could unread 🤢
Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites
Jungkook: Just like you 😘
You: 🙄
You: I hate you so much
Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?
You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.
Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀
You: It means I’m tired
Jungkook: Of?
You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.
Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?
Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴
Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.
You: You know what? I want you
FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.
You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.
Jungkook: 😈
Jungkook: My place
Jungkook: Ten minutes
You: *to stay off my profile
Jungkook: 👉👌?
You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT
You: 🤢🤢🤢
Jungkook: 😩
Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess
Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴
You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego
Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here
He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.
Jungkook: Hey quick question
Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻
Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.
There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?
You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?
Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.
You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.
The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.
He forgot.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.
It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.
“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”
“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”
“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.
As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.
“What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.
“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.
You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”
“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”
Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.
Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.
He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.
With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.
Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.
“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.
You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?
You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."
“What?"
“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”
You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.
“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”
Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.
“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”
Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?
“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”
Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”
“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."
As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.
Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.
You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.
"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”
“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.
“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”
Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?
“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”
“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”
“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”
Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?
“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”
“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”
“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”
“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”
“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.
“Zip up your hoodie.”
You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.
Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.
“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”
Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”
Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”
Even he knows that argument is flimsy.
“Guk.”
“It was always just a joke.”
“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”
Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.
Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.
Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”
“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”
“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”
Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.
Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”
Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”
“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”
“Yeah.”
“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”
“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.
"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"
The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.
"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."
You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”
Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"
Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.
After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.
"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.
He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”
“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.
“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”
“But—”
“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”
“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.
Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.
You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”
“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”
In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”
“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”
“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.
“With beef,” he agrees.
“Gyoza?”
“Mhm.”
“And takoyaki?”
“...You’re pushing it.”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”
He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”
“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.
“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”
“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.
"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"
You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.
"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.
Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?
“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.
Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.
“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.
“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.
"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”
He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.
“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.
The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”
“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”
Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”
“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.
He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”
Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.
“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.
“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”
“What? When?”
“The other day. We hung out.”
He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.
“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”
Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”
“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”
“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.
“You guys talked about me?”
“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.
Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”
“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”
“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”
You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”
“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”
You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”
Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”
“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”
“Y/N.”
“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”
“We allowed to talk about Jason?”
“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”
He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”
“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”
“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”
You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.
You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”
He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”
You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.
“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”
His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.
“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”
He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.
“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”
“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”
“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”
“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”
“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.
If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.
“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”
He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.
NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to
JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry
JUNGKOOK: I got u
Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.
“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.
“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”
“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”
Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”
He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.
“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”
Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?
“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.
Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.
As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.
You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.
It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.
He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.
When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”
He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.
“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”
You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”
He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”
Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.
“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.
Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.
“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.
The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.
The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"
"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.
You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.
Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.
"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"
He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.
The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"
His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"
You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."
He nods. "Mm. We can split it."
"Um, how about... tempura?"
"Banana?"
Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.
The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."
The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.
“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."
"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.
He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."
“Oh, really?”
You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.
“I’ve been a dick.”
“No shit.”
Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”
How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.
“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”
“You don’t say.”
That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.
“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”
“Well, you did,” you mumble.
“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?
“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”
Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”
It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.
He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”
“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”
“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”
“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.
“For real.”
You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”
He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.
“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”
Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”
You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”
He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”
Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”
He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”
“I want that in writing,” you snort.
Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”
“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”
“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.
You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.
Princess
I’m sorry. I can make it right.
I promise. Please give me another chance.
If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.
As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook
Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.
“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”
His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.
“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”
He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.
“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.
“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.
“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.
Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”
Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”
“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”
Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”
“Joonie—”
“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”
“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”
As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.
Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”
“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”
The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.
Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”
The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.
“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.
Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.
“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.
Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”
Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.
A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”
Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.
A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?
His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.
You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.
He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.
It’s also kind of cute.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.
After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.
It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.
Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.
As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.
“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.
“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.
He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”
“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.
Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.
“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.
Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.
“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.
“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”
“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”
“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.
“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.
His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.
“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.
“Like, full body?”
“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”
“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.
“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.
“Which one?”
The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.
“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”
You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.
“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.
“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”
“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”
“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.
He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”
He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”
“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”
The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”
He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”
You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”
“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”
“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”
“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.
He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”
“Really.”
You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.
“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”
The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?
“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”
“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.
“I hear a pop.”
“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.
“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”
“Oh no. Knees?”
“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”
His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”
“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”
“Uhh…”
“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”
“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”
He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”
You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?
“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”
The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.
“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.
“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”
“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”
His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”
As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.
Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.
It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.
Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.
“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”
“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.
Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”
You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?
Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.
You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.
Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.
Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.
Y/N.exe has stopped working.
Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.
“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”
Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”
“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.
“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.
“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.
“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”
He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”
You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.
“I think… A lot.”
“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.
Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.
Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.
“So…” he begins.
You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.
“I was thinking. About that guy…”
You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.
“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“
Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?
“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.
“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.
It's cry hours, isn’t it?
Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”
“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.
“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”
It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?
‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.
“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”
He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”
If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.
“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”
A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.
Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.
"It's late. I should sleep."
Or masturbate.
The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.
"Whoa. You okay?"
"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."
"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"
"Just wanna stop spinning."
His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.
"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."
"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.
“You gonna make it there?”
“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.
"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.
Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.
You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.
He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.
“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.
While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.
Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.
You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.
Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.
"Princess?"
Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.
You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.
Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?
Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.
But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.
The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.
“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.
He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.
Oh shit.
You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.
“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.
The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”
You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?
Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.
Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.
Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."
Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"
As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?
He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.
“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.
You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”
He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”
“‘Night,” you mumble.
As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.
The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.
He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.
Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.
He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.
Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.
He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.
#smutcentralnet#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#bts fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#bts fluff#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic
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cracks
Sasha feels the moment the change happens. Something electric in the air, wire going taut. Something she hasn't felt properly in three years. She has nightmares that night, the worst she's had in a long time, the kind that have you shooting up screaming in bed, and when she wakes up, she just knows, somehow. That hasn't happened in a long time.
She finds a tape on her kitchen table. A new one. The last one. She doesn't even need to listen to it to know it's the last one. And she has a voice-mail on her phone from Annabelle Cane.
She calls Tim first, right then, at one a.m., and he picks up. She knew he would. She knows he felt the change, too. "We have to go," she says. "Right now. We've got to go back. Something's happened."
---
Tim knows this trip and he knows what lies on the other end of it. He made the reverse of this trip over a year ago: tired and quivering in the passenger seat of Sasha's car, unable to stop staring at her, explosion still echoing in his ears. It's been a long time since then, but it's still hard to shake the memories. He remembers it all well enough.
"Something's changed," he says, in the silence of the car.
Sasha's fingers are tapping frantically against the wheel. "You feel it, too, don't you?"
Tim winces. It's like a weight returned, like he's gotten a burden off of his back in the time since he woke up here, and now it's… now it's back. "Of course I feel it," he says. "I thought I'd never feel it again. I… I thought we were safe here!"
"I didn't think it was over," says Sasha, hushed. "All this time. I-I knew there had to be a reason we ended up here, i-instead of somewhere else… o-or nowhere at all…"
"I thought we left it all behind," says Tim. His voice comes out choked; his hands are jammed together in his lap. "I thought it was over, I thought we were safe, I-I thought we could… I thought we could move on…"
"Did you really?" Sasha says. "After all this time, a-after you came through alone, without Jon… did you think we'd never see any of this again?"
"We're in a different fucking world," Tim says, strangled. "I thought that'd be enough."
Tim stopped listening to the tapes a long time ago. Tim couldn't bear to hear it, the mess left behind; he didn't want to think about it, wasn't supposed to think about it, it's gone, it's over, he's done. That's what dying is. He doesn't want to sit and listen to Jon and Martin and the others suffering and slipping away and becoming strangers. It's too hard. Sasha lets him know, every now and then, that they're still doing okay, or whatever resembles that back there. That they're still alive—that Jon and Martin are together, which is strange to hear, but Tim is glad for them, he is. (He's missed them. Waking up here, alive somehow, with the Fears gone, and his Sasha alive, and some version of Danny alive and all right… since then, since everything, he's genuinely started to miss them. Miss the way things were before everything went wrong. Miss when they all used to be friends. He misses his friends.)
"Hey." Sasha covers his hand with hers. "If this is too much for you, we don't have to… I mean, I can take you back. I don't want to… pull you back in if you don't want it."
Tim chews at his lower lip, stares down at his hands. It's tempting, to say the word. To go home and be out of this for good.
He can't do it, though. If things are really changing, if the things that touched their world could possibly touch this one, do what it did there here…
"No," he says. "N-no, if… if what you said is true, then I… then we…"
"We have to check," Sasha says, hushed. Her hands clutching at the wheel. "We have to. We do. If there's any chance…"
"Any chance," Tim repeats. "Yeah. Let's do it." He squeezes her hand, tells himself it will all go all right. Ahead, there are signs for Oxford on the road.
---
There is a house on Hill Top Road, looming and dark and just a little bit wrong. Tim and Sasha know this house, know it well. They woke up in the house, in the basement, several years ago—Sasha alone, Tim with Sasha waiting for him. Both of them tangled in a mess of recorder tape.
There are people in the basement now. Sasha leads them through the dark, cobwebby halls, down to the bottom, and Tim can immediately see the two human-like shapes in the dark of the room, lying huddled on the floor.
He halfway hopes it isn't them. Doesn't like seeing how still the shapes are. But Sasha shines her torch on their faces and this confirms it. Tim sucks his breath in sharp through his teeth.
Jon and Martin lie there, tangled in a fierce embrace (arms coiled around the other's necks, legs tangled, foreheads together), both of them tangled in the tape, both of them covered in blood. There is a knife in Jon's side, dust and tear tracks and more blood on their still faces. They aren't moving, their eyes shut.
Sasha swears, loudly. "Jon? Martin?" she says, nearly shouting, and neither of them answer. Neither of them stir. Sasha stumbles a few steps back and mutters, "S-she didn't say… no one who's come through has been…"
Tim isn't breathing. Can't take his eyes off their stone-still bodies. Can't stop wondering if this is it, if they've finally all died like he always thought they would. He'd thought Jon would die with him, when he pressed the button on the detonator, felt something like sick relief push through when Sasha had told him he hadn't.
"I-I'm going to call an ambulance," says Sasha, pulling out her phone and going for the stairs.
Tim goes to his knees, beside the entangled forms on the floor, and reaches for Jon and Martin, to take their pulses. He can't get to their wrists—the tape is tangled too thickly, and the grip the two of them have on each other is too strong, anyways. Dead or alive, they aren't letting go. So Tim reaches for their necks instead, fumbles to find the pulse point under their jaws. He's mumbling something under his breath, something nonsensical—maybe an apology, maybe a plea. He feels like he hasn't taken a breath in many long minutes—can't stop thinking that if this is it, if they died after everything, after he and Sasha somehow managed to live…
It doesn't matter. Tim presses two fingers to Jon's neck, and then Martin's, and he finds what he is looking for: two heartbeats, pulsing weakly, but as steady as anything. They're alive.
#i dunno!!!#tma fic#the magnus archives#jonmartin#tma#mag 200#tma spoilers#i wrote this#blood tw#death tw#post 200
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Day 125.5 Accidental Bonding (Part Five)
(You can start at Part One, if you’d like.)
Harry really liked the chasing down criminals part of his job.
Blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline surging; he loved the way it felt to get to do the action part of his job. He and Draco were assigned to be part of a team that was raiding an illegal potions ring and the criminals were not giving up easily.
Spells flew through the air, sizzling and sparking, and Harry found himself locked in a duel with one man in particular, sending spells zipping back and forth, blocking and parrying. He was so focused on taking this guy down that he lost track of everything else for a moment.
It was a foolish mistake and he only realized exactly how foolish when Draco shouted, "Potter! Look out!"
His awareness came online just as Draco barreled into him, knocking him out of the way of a stunner coming from the man he'd been dueling and a man who'd been sneaking behind him.
As he caught his balance, he saw Draco absorb the impact of the spells and crumple to the ground.
His vision went white around the edges as panic clawed at his throat. "Stupefy!" he roared, aiming first at the man he'd been dueling who immediately fell to the ground, then following it up with a second, "Stupefy," shot at the man who'd been coming up behind him.
The second man's shield shattered when Harry's spell hit it and he was knocked out cold, too.
"Draco," Harry said, kneeling next to him and casting a shield charm around them. He rolled the other man onto his side, finding him completely unconscious. "Anderson!" he shouted to the Auror who was closest to them as she disarmed her opponent. "I've got to get him out of here."
She nodded, "There's only a few more anyway."
Harry lifted Draco into his arms and apparated straight to St. Mungo's.
(Read more below the cut)
He staggered as he landed, he'd never been the best at apparation and the added weight of Draco's limp body didn't help. "Help," he said, tripping toward the desk.
"You're Harry Potter," the witch on duty said.
"Yes," he replied. "And this is my partner and he needs help."
A handful of healers had been attracted by the raucous by this point and Draco was quickly lifted from his arms and taken into a room as Harry followed, explaining what happened.
"I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside," one of the healers said once he'd finished telling them about the stunners he'd been hit with and then she closed the door without giving him a chance to reply.
He collapsed into the chair across from the room, his heart beating too fast and his pulse loud in his ears. This wasn't supposed to have happened. He wasn't a child; people weren't supposed to get hurt for him anymore.
His chest felt too tight and he couldn't seem to draw a deep enough breath; it felt like an eternity before the door opened and three of the healers emerged. "He's going to be fine," the first said.
"He'll be sore for a few days," the second woman added.
"But he'll make a full recovery," the last said.
Harry nodded, "Can I see him?" he rasped.
The fourth healer emerged, "He's been asking for you," she replied. "He's quite keen to see you, too."
He rose quickly and entered Draco's room without another thought for the healers that had just saved the other man's life.
"Hey," Draco murmured, voice sounding a bit hoarse. "Are you alright?"
"Am I alright?" Harry repeated as he took Draco's hand in his, letting the bond sooth his frayed nerves, "You're the one who got hit by two stunners. You utter idiot."
"Well, I couldn't let our precious savior get hit." And Harry knew he was teasing but it sparked something irrational inside of him.
"Don't," he whispered. "Godric, Draco, that was terrifying. You can't do that for me."
"As if you wouldn't have done the exact same thing," Draco huffed.
He shook his head, "It's different."
"It's really not," the other man replied.
"I can't have people I love getting hurt and dying for me, Draco," he hissed. "I can't-"
"Potter," Draco said firmly, "Get a hold of yourself. This is the bond talking. Don't you see that?"
"It's not!" he protested.
Shaking his head he replied, "It is. You just said that I was a person you love. You don't love me."
Harry blinked, he supposed he had said that, "I mean as a friend, obviously," he said. "Like I love Ron or Hermione," he shrugged, "Or Neville or Luna or-"
"Yes, I don't really need to listen to the whole list," Draco said, cutting him off. "But the point stands that you don't really love me. Potter, I know it's hard but you have to try to separate whatever the bond is pushing on you from what you actually feel."
"What if I actually feel that?"
"You don't."
He scowled at the other man, "You're so fucking irritating."
"Better," he replied, relaxing back against the pillows. "The head healer will be in to clear me soon. You can stay if you want or you can go pick up dinner for us and meet me at home," he added hopefully.
"Fine," he replied, not really able to deny the other man anything at this point. "What are you in the mood for?"
"Curry," Draco said immediately, obviously already imagining that Harry would say yes.
He nodded and gave Draco's hand one more squeeze, "I'll see you at home. Shoot me a patronus if you need anything else, yeah?"
Draco nodded through a yawn.
And it was only as Harry was walking out that he realized he'd referred to Draco's house as home and really felt that way about it.
He couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond and how much was just him. The line was getting blurrier by the day.
-----------
Part 4 | Part 6
#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days#one year of drarry drabbles#drarry#drarry ficlets#drarry drabbles#drarry fic#part 5#accidental bonding#slow burn#falling in love#auror partners#enemies to friends to lovers
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Egg
Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do
I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-
___________________
“This is a terrible idea.”
“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”
Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.
The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.
Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.
Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.
He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.
Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.
It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.
Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.
“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.
Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.
He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.
That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.
How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?
It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.
And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?
“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”
Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.
“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone. “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”
They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.
“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”
Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.
It felt almost unreal.
As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.
Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.
The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.
“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”
Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It’s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.
After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.
With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.
The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”
The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”
“....sounds reasonable.”
As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.
Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.
“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.
As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.
“I- ….is this normal?”
His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.
“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”
Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.
On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.
__________________________________
“....is this really necessary?”
Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.
The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.
The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.
Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.
And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.
_________________________________________
By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.
Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.
“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.
His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.
As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.
“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.
Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.
A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.
The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.
Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-
The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-
By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.
#mhst2#monster hunter stories 2#monster hunter stories wings of ruin#monster hunter kyle#monster hunter fanfiction#fanfiction#tobi-kadachi#monster hunter stories#give this boy a monstie im begging you
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last call | jjk x reader
pairing: jungkook x reader
rating: 18+
word count: 4.4K
synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.
warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage
A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get. Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!
*********************
Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.
That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan. The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.
The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --
Jeon Jungkook.
On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention. You can’t blame them, really. It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile. And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.
Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave.
Suckers just like you.
*************************
Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you. The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”
“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it. Who sent this to me?”
Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.
He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.
“I did.”
Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise. Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot?
You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.
Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass. But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.
You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.
You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.
“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.
***********************
Something strange happens a few nights later.
You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room. Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.
He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.
It’s your name.
You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar. He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear. His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.
He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?
You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next. Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.
“What’s up?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile. You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you. “I’ve got something else for you tonight.��
“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you. “What’s on the menu?”
Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.
“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot. “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.
He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible. “I figured this might be more your speed.”
Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.
And your name, apparently. How does he know your name, anyway?
“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.
“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.
Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.
“So, um -- how do you know my name?”
You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask. Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.
Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”
“Ah,” you smile. “Well, thanks, again. Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” he grins.
But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.
You turn and head back to the bar.
“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook. “I’ve never paid with a credit card here. I always pay my tab in cash.”
“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.
“Is that right?”
**************************
“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”
“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head. “Keep your voice down. Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”
Tifa shrugs, unbothered.
“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails. “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”
Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?
You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.
“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth. Tifa rolls her eyes.
“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
You sigh.
It would be, actually. The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like. Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.
Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed. You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.
You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron. She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you. His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.
“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her. “The man is trying to fuck you. I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”
You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.
“We’ll see about that, T.”
*************************
Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.
All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on. No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.
Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.
He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time. He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.
So you wait. And wait.
The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash. No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception. From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.
Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.
You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.
How long have you been sitting here?
It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen. Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place.
Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds.
Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave. You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.
“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”
Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.
“Your tab was paid hours ago.”
Oh.
“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face. Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.
“Yup.”
You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.
Jungkook laughs.
“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open. You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.
“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.
“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal. His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night. The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.
“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases. “My vision is 20/20. My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”
Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.
“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation. “‘Cause I want you, too.”
You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence. Then he waits for you to speak.
“I’m, I -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts. Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence. “ -- I think I need another drink.”
Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar. He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them. You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.
“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses. He nods, handing you your glass.
“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.
“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.
You clink the glasses together before draining them.
You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins. The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.
“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move. He leans closer.
“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath. Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless. “That depends. Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”
“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans. You suck in a breath.
“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”
Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses. His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back. This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.
You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on. Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips. You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.
He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.
“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close. You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs. “I like the way you think.”
He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt.
“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton. You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.
Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off. You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple. You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.
“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”
Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar. You shudder.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier. You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.
It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples?
Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold. “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”
Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.
You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.
“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat.
A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”
He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.
“Wait, are you gonna -- “
“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast. His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud. “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol. “I can do whatever I want in here.”
You certainly can.
He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin. He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties. Your breath hitches in your chest.
“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar. You laugh.
“You’re the boss, right?”
“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop.
You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties. In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life. Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs. The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.
He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue. You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.
Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth. But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.
“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side. You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs. Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper. He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication -- but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.
“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”
“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel. The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.
“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”
He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar. Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.
The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth. He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone.
“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you. Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.
“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight. “Do it.”
The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar. Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train. Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans.
It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return. When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.
“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile. “How has your service been tonight?”
“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt. “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”
Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath. He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing. His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.
“Better now?” he chuckles.
“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar. You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips. “The jeans have to go.”
“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim. Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.
“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him. “Your review has just improved.”
He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock. He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth. He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.
“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe. “Turn around for me.”
You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop. You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar. You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.
He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance. One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip. He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“Let me in, sweetheart.”
You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.
“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”
“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you. After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.
He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip. Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.
Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.
“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper. “Open your eyes.”
Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time. His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.
“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror. “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”
Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track. He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.
“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic. “Can you come for me again?”
You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs. Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.
That’s all it takes.
You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.
His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning. But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you. You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you. Inside of you.
You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.
“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath. He leans his chin against your shoulder.
“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.
“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”
*********************
You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs.
The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.
The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story. That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life. And it’s not going to stick around.
You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.
Tifa picks up on the first ring.
“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”
***********************
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I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki
All Parts
PART 11:
It’s been a long day. A long, arduous, day of plastering on your best customer service voice and smiling pretty for each and every person that walked through your door. Luckily though, your last patient was waiting just behind the door. Rubbing a tired hand down your face, you stride in, trying to look cheerful.
“Hello! So I see from your chart that you’ve-“
The sight that greets you is not what’s on your clipboard. It leaves you stopped in your tracks- trying to figure out why there was a child where a grown woman should’ve been sitting. You check your paper again, making sure you’ve got the right room. You do, and that just confuses you all over again.
The little boy is dirtied, grime lining his cheeks and staining his clothes- he is clearly not the middle aged woman who was on your schedule for today. His hair is a little matted, oily and very obviously unkempt, but that's not what worries you the most. No, what worries you the most is his skin.
All across his forearms, and down his legs is strange tearing. It's like the skin as been split from the inside out, leaving behind a pattern of angry red scabbing and pink scars. They're not clean slices either; the edges are clearly jagged. The cuts were laced together, overlapping and intersecting in a pattern not consistent with any blade or claw you'd ever seen before, and you had seen almost everything.
The sight leaves you reeling, but you don’t falter. A measly schedule mix-up wouldn’t throw you off this easily, especially not with how clearly this little boy needs your help.
"Alright, do you think you could give me your arm?" You ask gently, trying your best to sound friendly. You're not sure if it really matters though- the boy looks straight past you. Focuses his eyes on the wall behind you, like you're not even there. "Can I have your arm? Just to clean up the wound, I promise. It looks like it hurts a lot, and I'd love to help you feel better."
The boy looks at you then, and you're horrified by what you see. He looks at you, big gray eyes and dark eyelashes, but there's nothing there. Absolutely nothing. It's like looking into a void, and all you can see is your own reflection in his irises. It leaves you unsettled. Itching in your own skin, almost tempted to look away.
The boy puts his arm out. Holds it completely straight, locking his elbow robotically. His face stays perfectly impassive. He doesn't even blink while the open cut visibly shifts with his sudden movement.
"I- alright, I'm just gonna clean around the wound. Sound good?" You try again, taking his tiny arm in your hands.
Under your fingers tips all you can feel is skin and bones. He's practically skeletal, and you can't see any veins under skin that was already paper-thin. You're not sure who this boy is, where he came from- but you could tell from a mile away; he didn't have anybody looking out for him.
The thought made your heart break, made your fingers itch with the need to take all his pain away. Fueled by that, you did your best to clean his wound quickly.
It was a fairly large wound, but it wasn't very deep. That would have been a bright side except when you took a closer look, this new cut resembled all the old scars lining his arms and legs. Whatever did this to him, whatever caused the tearing and the weird pattern of scarring, had been doing it for a long time. A disturbingly long time considering the state of the rest of his body.
The current wound is no longer actively bleeding, but it definitely isn’t scabbed yet. Its vulnerable to the air and to infection, so you quickly start cleaning it. The boy doesn’t move the entire time- not even wincing when you spray disinfectant on the cut. It’s the strangest thing you’d ever seen. It was like the boy wasn’t even in the room with you at all. Like he was somewhere else entirely.
He only needs a few stitches, for the broadest part of the cut, but the boy doesn’t react when you tell him that either. He doesn’t flinch when you smear the cold numbing gel, nor does he even blink when you thread your needle. He watches the entire time though- empty eyes tracking each time the needle sinks into his skin. The process is over and done with in minutes, but nothing feels simple. Everything feels wrong and your fingers still itch red-hot beneath your gloves.
A part of you is tempted to use your quirk, just for a second, to see what he was feeling. To try and connect with him at all, since none of your earlier attempts had even remotely worked. But you don’t, you don’t do that- even was you begin cleaning up. You keep your hands to yourself as you wrap up the extra gauze, terrified of what you’d feel if you touched him.
The boy suddenly murmurs something, voice hardly a whisper.
You can’t make out his words- not from where you are a few steps away. So you near a little bit, taking care not to scare him with any sudden movements. He watches you, mouth pressed into a neutral line until you’re close. Then he chews his cheek, takes a deep breath and speaks.
“I-I’m sorry.” The boy whispers.
He shoots forward grabbing onto your wrist with tiny fingers. A chill like you’ve never experienced before runs through you.
It’s like your blood’s gone glacial- freezing up and stalling the flow in your veins. Goosebumps cover your skin almost immediately, teeth threatening to chatter after hardly a few seconds. You’re frozen in place, fear squeezing your heart in your chest, and all your can do is look at the small child holding on to your forearm.
His face is no longer neutral. His eyes are staring right back at you, wide and unbelieving. You can see now that his eyes aren’t translucent gray. They are blue. Pure blue when they catch the white light from the ceiling above and not the dull grey of the floor tiles. You only catch it for a second, then he’s dropping his head, throwing your arm away from him.
“I’m sorry.” He says again.
You spin on your heels, eyes wide. He doesn’t sound like a child. Throughout your time at the hospital, you’d seen many children come and go through the doors, but he didn’t sound like any of them. He sounded withered, tired, like even speaking took the wind out of him. It was a hollowness that had your heart stopping in your chest.
Then he kicks his foot behind him, grabbing at a handle shoved between his heel and the back of the shoe. All you see is the glint of the blade as he unsheathes it and your blood runs even colder than before. You bring your hands up, defensive and terrified but he just blinks at you. Blinks at you and doesn’t even flinch as he drags the serrated blade up the entire length of his forearm. Blood pools around the wound and drips onto the floor, forming an unnaturally perfect circle in front of him. You’re freaked, but the boy is passive. Passive even as the blood congeals, turning thicker and darker until it’s black.
He steps forward, into the center of the black puddle. The void eats him whole.
Your heart lurches in your chest, pulse speeding up, as you watch the void begin to shift once more. The boy’s blood retreats into itself, twisting and pulsating until it’s completely gone. The floor is spotless, and you’re left suffocating.
You can’t remember leaving the room, only bursting through the backdoors and into the cool night. You brace an arm against the brick wall, and snap at the waist gasping for air.
“Oi- leech. Leech.” He calls, and when you look over he’s suddenly right next to you. “What’s up with you, huh? Called your name. What, couldn’t fuckin’ hear me or somethin’?”
You hear his voice now, but it doesn’t do anything to quell the panic. Your heart is racing. “Bakugou. I need to-“ Your breath catches. “Fuck, there was this kid and he- cuts all up his arm and then he took out a knife and s-sliced-“
“A knife.” Bakugou repeats, eyes like wildfire even in the dark. “Where—what the fuck are you talking about? Slow down, can’t understand a damn thing.”
You try to listen to him, you really do, but even repeating the words makes you feel sick.
Throughout your years as a nurse, you’d seen a lot of gore. You’d seen more injuries, and more blood, and more horrific aftermaths than you could recall, but something about this boy made you sick. Maybe it was his small frame- how he couldn’t be any older than 11. Maybe it all the scars lining his arms. Maybe it was his quirk. The way he had to gravely injure himself just to use it.
You try to explain, but the words are coming out wrong. They’re clipped and panicked and Bakugou looks unhappier with each new one punched from your lungs.
“Stop- stop.” He says, fists clenched at his sides. “Did he come at you? Try to get you with the knife?”
“No- I- he got himself. Bakugou, he took the knife and cut himself. And all the blood, it just- it pooled on the floor and turned black and then he stepped in it!” You’re gasping now, hands out in front of you making a wide circle to demonstrate. “He disappeared and I don’t know where he went and I- he was bleeding so much. He was bleeding and he was covered in all these scars and he just cut himself and didn’t- and didn’t-”
You watch Bakugou curl his lip, shifting on his feet. He doesn’t say anything. Not for a long moment, and then he’s surging forward, large hands on your shoulders and forcing you to look him in the eyes.
“You need to breathe.” He says, voice quiet. Like he meant it to carry for just the two of you. “You need to breathe. Can’t do anything if you pass out in the street. So breathe. Just breathe.”
Bakugou squeezes your shoulders, thumbs digging into your collarbone until you look up at him. His eyes are wild, like solar flares, darting back and forth across your face. It’s obvious he doesn’t like what he sees. Still, you try to follow him. Try to look to his own ribcage for guidance until your world stops spinning.
You’re not sure how long you stand there. With his hands on your shoulders, trying to remember how to breathe. It sort of feels like forever.
“I- I need to,” You say suddenly. There’s something caught in the back of your throat, causing you to clear it before speaking once more. “I need to do something. Find him. I-I need to find him. I can’t. He’s bleeding.”
“I know. But you’re staying here. You can’t be reckless.”
Bakugou’s eyes are still blazing, but his voice isn’t like you’ve ever heard it before. It’s quiet, even, just low enough for you and you alone to hear. His thumbs on your collarbone are tracking gentle circles- you wonder if he knows he’s doing it at all.
“You’re gonna go home.” He says. “I’ll take you home, and then I’ll go back out and look. But you’re not goin’ anywhere like this. It’s reckless. Understand?”
Every bone in your body screams for you to fight- to tear off down the alley shouting and screaming until you found the little boy that so desperately needed help. But that seems impossible with the way Bakugou is looking at you now- so sure and certain of his plan. Like there’s no room for argument. Even if you tried to run, you’re sure he’d just catch you.
“You’ll look?” You ask quietly, all wide eyes looking up at him. “I- I need you to promise me. Promise me. Please.”
He squeezes your shoulders once, averting his eyes. “Yep. I will. Promise.”
Then he’s retreating like he’s been burnt, spinning away from you. He drops his hands by his sides, flexing his fingers, and starts off down the alley.
You figure that Bakugou expects you to follow, but your shaking makes that a tall order to fill. Still, you put one foot in front of the other, trying not to see pooling blood in each shadow that lines the empty street.
“What’s he look like?” Bakugou asks suddenly, just a few feet in front of you. “How old?”
“Um, blue eyes, but they look grey unless you really see them. Dark hair. He wouldn’t say his age, or anything really, but he’s definitely no older than 11. Maybe 10.”
That thought has your heart lurching in your chest, spinning your world on it’s axis once more.
“Why- why would he- he was covered in all those scars,” You start, running a heavy hand down your face. “They were from him. His blade- because his quirk is with his blood and- oh god, he was doing that to himself.”
Your heart collapses in on itself. It sits heavy at the bottom of your ribcage, weighing your entire body down with lead. It’s like you’re carrying a mountain with each step, and all you can think about is empty blue eyes and angry red scars.
“Why would he do that?” You ask quietly, eyes following your feet closely just to keep you moving. “Hurt himself just to do that? He can’t want to- there’s no way. Someone has to be making him- someone has to-“
Bakugou spins around, eyes like steel. “Kids’ll do anything to feel powerful.” He flicks his gaze down to his own hands, fingers twitching. Then he shakes his head, begins walking forward once more. “Even hurt themselves and others.”
“So you don’t think- you think he’s doing that all by himself? He can’t, that’s not, it can’t-“
“It can.” His voice is quiet, devoid of all the explosive inflection you��ve come to expect from him. “Trust me, I know.”
Bakugou’s walking in front of you, clad in his hero costume. His black mask is intact, but even without it you’re not sure he’d let you see his eyes. They gave too much away.
Bakugou keeps moving forward, hardly even turns back to make sure you’re still following. He’s quiet, strangely so, and you’re not used to this kind of silence with him. It’s odd- makes the already inky streets bleed darker shadows, every twist and turn heightening your anxiety. You walk a little closer to him.
He turns his head, red eyes catching you close behind him. His lip twitches up for a moment and he slows. Broad shoulder’s slot into place next to yours, and you swear the streets get a little less scary.
“I’ll find him.” He says. “I will.”
Then the silence hangs thick and heavy over the both of you.
Before you know it, you’re opening the door to your apartment building with tired limbs. Bakugou stays back, but you can feel his eyes watch you. Even through the glass when you shut the door behind you. You give him a half-hearted wave but it doesn’t feel right even to you.
You enter you apartment, immediately flicking all the lights on, tilting your lamp until it’s shooting light through every dark shadow. You know that’s not how it works- that the child used blood and not darkness to teleport, but it still helps ease your mind a bit. Anything to get rid of the blackness at the edges of your vision- the blackness that reminds you so much of pooling tar.
Curling your knees up to your chest, you press your back into the cushions of your couch. You wonder when the fear started settling in. At what point on the walk home that the adrenaline faded- when you started wanting the boy and his blood to disappear instead of being found.
You glance at the clock and then to your balcony door, rinse and repeat for the next few hours. Awake and fearful, practically begging Bakugou to show up. As the world seemed to grow more dangerous, you felt more and more helpless without him.
It was a thought that left you feeling even sicker than before, but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt at the sound of knocking.
“Hey,” You yawn, tiredly, sliding the door open for Bakugou. “You find him?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” He admits, brushing past you. “No fuckin’ trace. You sure he was a kid?”
“Positive.”
“And he was covered in scars?”
“Mhm.”
He drops on your couch, tipping his head all the way back with a groan. “I didn’t see any shitty brats. Sorry.”
The apology comes out sharp, a little sarcastic, but his eyes give him away. He is sorry. At least, as much as you can expect from him.
You drop down onto the other side of the couch, tucking your legs up close to your chest. There’s warmth clinging to the cushions, left-over from where you’d been sitting, but you’re still freezing- skin left with a perpetual chill.
Bakugou lets his head loll to the side, rolling against the back of your couch, until he’s looking directly at you. “You alright, leech?”
A part of you wants to lie- but you figure it wouldn’t do much good. He’d just see right through you anyways.
“No.” You say softly, winding your arms around your legs. “Sat here the whole time. Awake. Thinking.”
He looks at you a little strangely then, shifting until he’s sitting straight up.
“Something bad ‘s happening, I think.” Your voice comes out hollow. “With the boy. He’s- I’ve never seen anything like that. He said sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“Mhm. Sorry. To me. And then he grabbed my arm.” You scratch at your arms, trying to keep the itch in your skin away. “I don’t- I think he knew. About my quirk somehow. He touched my skin. Under my sleeve.”
“What?” Bakugou jolts forward, eyes crazed. “Tell me again, from the fuckin’ top. Don’t leave a single goddamn thing out.”
So you recount it, once more, paying extra attention to the way Bakugou reacts to each one of your words. His eyebrows knit together, eyes hardly leaving your face for even a moment. It’s not until you explain the way you’d felt, when the boy had grabbed you, that Bakugou clenches his fist. His knuckles go white as he grits his teeth.
“He fuckin’ knew.” His voice is venomous, steely and serious. “He knew- but that doesn’t- I sat out. Watched- everything. Fuckin’ kid couldn’ta slipped past me. Must’ve come in the same way he got out.”
“You were outside?”
You question is swallowed up as Bakugou stands, gravely voice steamrolling entirely over your own.
“Fucker knew,” He seethes, crossing his arms. “He fuckin’ knew, and he got past me. Gonna- gonna find him. Swear to fuck-“
“He’s a child.” You try to protest, but Bakugou isn’t listening. “Not some crazy super villain and-“
He’s practically worked himself up into a frenzy now, muttering threats under his breath while he paces. You’re not exactly sure why he’s so upset, but he looks at you and suddenly there’s no mistaking the funny little crease in his eyebrows.
Worry.
You can help yourself then, standing and nearing him. Reaching out your hand until your gloved fingers make contact with his forearm.
“He’s just a child.” You say, eyes wide and imploring. “And he said sorry. It’s- I think he didn’t want to. Someone’s making him. So it’s not his fault, alright? He didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.”
Bakugou flicks his eyes down, to where your fingers are resting on his skin. He scrunches his nose up, but he doesn’t shake you off.
“This time.” He says, red eyes staring back into yours, his voice just as serious as before. “This time you’re fine. But it’s not- there’s not gonna be a fuckin’ next time, alright? I won’t- it’s just not gonna fuckin’ happen.”
You think he’s finished, but then Bakugou is flaring his nostrils, and clearing his throat. “‘m gonna find this fuckin’ kid, okay? Swear it.”
“I know.” You say, because you do know. When he looks at you like that, it’s clear there’s never any other possibility. Nothing but the future he carves out for himself. “I know you will.”
Bakugou nods, and after that it takes only seconds until he’s deflating. You’re almost sure you’ve forgotten your gloves then, when his chest settles and the angry red seeps out of him complexion so suddenly. But when you look down, you see nothing but silk where your skin should be.
“You didn’t sleep.” He finally says. “Kid used up some of your quirk, and you’re not fuckin’ tired?”
You look up at him. “No. I- I am. Couldn’t fall asleep though. Freaked out and everything, you know?”
“You’re home now.”
“I know.” You say, finally stepping back and turning away. Wringing your hands together, you settle back into your spot on the couch. “I tried, earlier, to sleep, but I just keep seeing stuff. In the shadows, I mean.”
He looks at you a little weird, hardly for a second, before pursing his lips and shifting his eyes away.
“I know, I know, it’s dumb. Childish, probably.” You backtrack, a nervous, tired laugh leaving your lips. “Couldn’t help it though. Still can’t- actually, I have no idea how I’m gonna sleep tonight.” 
He shifts on his feet, obviously uncomfortable. “You scared of the dark now or somethin’?”
It sounds even more ridiculous when he puts it’s like that- when he phrases it as something so minuscule. But it doesn’t feel tiny to you. The fear isn’t manageable at all when you think about retreating to your bedroom, cowering away from all it’s dark corners and crevices.
Well, you reason, tomorrow was a day off for you. Losing out on a night of sleep is probably the least expensive loss you could’ve suffered tonight.
“Maybe I’ll just stay up.” You finally decide, rubbing at your eyes. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna stay up, I think.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous. You’re fallin’ asleep right now.”
“I’m not. I’m good.”
You lie and you’re sure Bakugou can see through it. Still, he says nothing, choosing instead to bide his time. But with each passing minute he squints his eyes, knits his eyebrows together a little more with each yawn that you try to suppress. He gives it another few seconds before swearing under his breath, spinning around until you’re only looking at his back.
“J-just sleep there.” He grumbles, pinched and tight while he clenches his fists at his sides. “‘s your fuckin’ house.”
“I can’t,” You yawn, once again trying to hide it behind your hand. “Where are you gonna sleep?”
“I’ll sleep later, ‘s fine. Stop complanin’.”
“I said it’s fine. ‘n besides, I’ll stay up, yeah? Nobody’s gonna fuckin’ get ya.” His voice is a little soft, and you think Bakugou knows it too, because then he’s clearing his throat. Loudly. Making a show of setting his shoulders back until he looks intimidating again. “A-and if you’re not sleepin’ in the next 5 fuckin’ minutes, you don’t gotta worry about anyone anyways because ‘m gonna kill you myself. So go the fuck to sleep already. Leech.”
You can’t help the giggle that leaves your mouth. Nor the second, louder laugh that tumbles from your mouth when he whips his head around at the sound.
“I get it.” You say gently. “I’ll sleep. But please don’t murder me while I’m at it, okay?”
Bakugou smiles something tiny and satisfied, but he covers it up by turning back around. By sinking to the floor a few feet in front of you, crossing his legs beneath him. He keeps his eyes trained forward, palm unturned and clearly ready to explode whatever lurked in the dark.
For lack of better words, he looked like a guard dog. The most blood thirsty one you’d ever seen, maybe, but that still didn’t change the fact that as long as he was around, nobody out to get you was leaving the room unscathed.
It was thought that settled your mind, had your heart slowing down in your chest. Enough to have you easing down into the cushions, stretching out on your couch with a tired sigh.
You try not to think about who is sitting directly in front of you. Try not to think about how you can’t tell if the blanket you’re using smells like him, or if he’s just sitting too close to tell. Try not to think about how easy it’d be to whisper something tiny-a thank you maybe, for everything he’s doing.
But you know he’d hate that. You know he’d pinch his face up, like you’d just burned him, and that knowledge of him only has you warming a little more.
So you pull the blanket up around your shoulders and settle instead for watching the back of his head as you drift off. The way he never stops moving- making sure to look at each and every corner of the room as often as he can.
//-//
oh my god y'all semester's finally over,, i cAN DO THINGS I LIKE AGAIN - pls my blog has been so dead for the last like, month but i swear im bout to revitalize tf out of it babey !!!! ;))))))
taglist: @fluffyviciousbunny @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9 @the-shota-king-masayuki @shy-panda02 @devastyle @shoto-supremacy00 @shotoful @falloutgirlzz
#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bakugou mha#bakugou bnha#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x self insert#bakugou fic#bakugou imagine#bnha fic#mha fic
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late common room nights
ron weasley x fem!gryffindor!reader
summary: after hermione and harry leave the common room to go to bed, you and ron have to find something to keep yourselves... entertained
word count: 1.9k
warnings: first of all that summary is ass but, unprotected sex (DONT FORGET TO WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT), uh fingering?, RON IS A CONSENT KING, this was also my first smut so don’t expect anything amazing 😭, uhm underage drinking, lowkey an innocence kink, exhibitionism, and c*rmac again
“guys, ‘m out m’tired.” harry spoke, getting up from his seated place on the common room floor and stretching out his arms.
“me too, ‘ve got a new book to catch up on” she says, slowly walking over to the girls dormitory tiredly from the long school day.
“night y/n, night ron.” harry says, before making his way to the boys dormitory.
“so, ronald, what do we do now?” a smirk grazes your lips with an arched brow, chuckling a bit at the end of your sentence.
“oi! stop calling me that!” the boy basically cried out, grabbing a fluffy pillow from the vermillion couch throwing it at your chuckling body.
you catch it with ease shoving behind you, thinking of something to do with your best friend.
“how about.... 21 questions?” proposing your idea whilst pursing your lips, looking at the boy again with narrowed eyes.
“alright, darling. you first.” his voice lacing with an amused tone at your proposal, leaning back on his hands that laid comfortably on the mahogany floor meanwhile sitting across from you.
“ok...” your voice slightly trembling in nerves, whilst wringing your fingers together. “whats your favourite colour?” your voice swift, his ears barely catching the question. having a small internal battle with yourself for chickening out from your original question.
“navy blue..., what’s your favourite memory?” his sentence pausing in the middle, attempting to maintain eye contact with his azure irises.
not bad, you quickly thought while trying to think of another question. a chortle falls from your lips thinking of the amusing memory, “that one unsupervised quidditch match when i was knocked off m’broom and broke my foot”
“the one where i had to bring you to pomfrey at two in the morning and serve a months detention for being out past curfew.” you both reminisce at the memory.
as the night progressed the both of you passed around the fire-whisky the questions got bolder, and to say the least dirtier.
“okay... okay...” giggle escapes you, the alcohol clearly in your system. ron chuckles at your disgruntled face, leaning closer to your face wiggling his eyebrows.
“have you ever like... done it?” a tinge of awkwardness runs rapidly throughout the room, you giggle again nervously taking another swig of fire whisky.
“it..?” he looks at you cluelessly, waiting for more information. you widen your eyes at him like you’re trying, and failing, to send him a mental message.
after a few seconds he looks at you with widened eyes, a small chuckle leaves his mouth as he takes the fire whisky from you. “merlin y/l/n i didn’t know you wanted me like that” he says taking a swig.
“no! i don’t!” you attempt to explain, with a vermillion running up the expanse of your next directly to the apples of your cheeks. “i’m just.... curious, because i know lavender has it bad for you” you attempt to cover your tracks, but your intentions already revealed.
“yes i have, for your information. not with her though.” he says with a sassy remark, passing you the bottle again. “have you?” he spoke while eyeing you suspiciously.
“well now i’m embarrassed.” you divert your eyes to the staircase. “oh so, you haven’t! my oh my, i guess you and mclaggen never got that far.” he adds with a raised brow and smirk.
“for your information, we never did anything because he was busy gazing at every other female in his vicinity” you punctuate and return to his sassy-tone, and a hair flick. you steady your eyes back to ron who looks at you amused.
“if i was with you i wouldn’t look at anyone else” he mumbles, gaze strictly on the floor his face matching his hair colour; a bright scarlet hue.
“what?” you look at him, widen eyes, face flushed and hair dishevelled. thinking you heard wrong, scooting closer so you can pick up his head with your thumb and pointer finger.
“i said...” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “that if you were mine, you would be the only person i’d look at” he says nervously, grabbing your wrist looking up at you.
you inhale and close your eyes for a second thinking about every single possibility this night could lead too. you choose wisely and opened your eyes looking in his direction finally choosing your words.
“prove it.” your tone stern, looking in his cerulean irises to prove your sincerity.
after that he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, moving together while subtly maneuvering you to straddle his waist. he opens his mouth so swiping against the strawberry chapstick that was worn into your lips and pleading for entry beneath your lips.
your mouths synced together in a deep harmony while both his larger hands came to grapple at your hips to keep you steady on the planes of his thighs. your core just above his clothed cock, you sink down slightly swivelling your hips slightly to create friction.
“bloody hell.” you hear him mumble while your lips were slightly seperated before rejoining them, his slowly growing tighter at the slight friction. one of your dainty fingers tugging at his reed tresses and the other on his placed on his jaw. you move forward again and create more friction against his strained erection, a low groan falling from his mouth.
you had a butterfly feeling erupting in your stomach, as one of his hands made its way into your hair giving it a small tug. a barely audible moan left your mouth, ron pulled away just a millimeter to look into your eyes.
“i want you, right here, right now.”
“what if someone see’s-“
“let them.”
he captured your lips again, placing both of his large hands right under your thighs maneuvering you to the nearest vermillion couch to lay you on. He hovered over you before kissing down your neck, sucking marks on the nearest skin he could find.
you knew you would have to cover them up in the morning, but you didn’t care. you could only focus on his lips sucking on your skin, and tangling your fingers into his fiery red hair.
he kissed up from your collarbone, kissing the fresh red marks that laid beautifully on your skin before hovering over your face again.
“you’re beautiful, darling.”
he leaned in again, tongues prodding at each other lustfully, while his warming taste of spearmint and pumpkin bleeds onto your tongue. one hand aggressively gripping your hip and the other one fiddling with the buttons of your uniform top, robes and ties already discarded when you entered the common room.
“are you sure you wanna do this, m’love?” he asked gently, affirming this is what your intentions were. hearing the repetitive pet names conform out of his mouth sending shockwaves of butterflies erupting through the warming of your belly, mixing with arousal.
“i want you ron, all of you.”
you leaned forward pushing your lips together in a passionate kiss, slotting them together the mess of the kiss being your last concern; while you both worked and attempted to rid each other’s clothes off. both of you left in your undergarments, he disconnected your lips for a moment to take a look at your body and seeing the heavy breaths you took from the frequent moving of your torso.
the eyes the stretch marks on your hips, the small scars from quidditch on your body, the birth marks scattered on your body and he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.
“w-what?” you stumbled on your words, as he looked upon your body thinking he was judging you. you instinctively almost went to cover yourself, he quickly grabbed your wrist pinning it beside your head before looking deep into your irises.
“you’re the most stunning thing, i’ve ever seen.”
he went to kiss the column of your neck again, slowing down before he mumbled again.
“i want to get you ready for me first, can i do that?”
“please.”
he took off the rings on his middle and ring finger seeing the callouses from the handling of his quidditch broom, and slowly slipping them on your agile fingers and leaning in towards the shell of your ear.
“hold on to those for me, darling.”
he kissed down your bra-clad chest, to your stomach and down to where you needed him most. he slipped off your panties, throwing them on the common room floor before kissing up your thigh.
he looked at your glistening core with lust, his pupils blowing wide before running a finger down your wet folds. you let out a breathy whine before he continued, slowly slipping his middle finger into you and slowly pulsing it in and out.
“ron- fuck.” you hissed in pleasure, from being touched for the first time. “you like that, princess?” ron mocked, seeing your face slightly contort.
a small whine slipped from your slipped from your lips as a response, before he continued his torture on your cunt. you bit your lip, trying to keep quiet hoping nobody from upstairs would hear ron pleasuring you.
he kept a steady rhythm, pulsing his fingers in and out of you knowing how hard it was for you to keep quiet. he kissed your thoughts and stomach while teasing you by speeding up his pace in and out of you.
you let out a moan escaping your lips before biting them harshly,
“come for me darling, come all over my fingers”
you let out a loud moan in response, unable contain it anymore. you felt a wave of euphoria wash over you as you came for him, gripping whatever was close to you. he puts his fingers in his mouth with an exaggerated moan before leaning over you again kissing your lips, making you taste yourself feeling arousal wash again all over you.
he kissed back up your stomach before his hand slid up towards your back, undoing your bra before throwing it towards the floor, along with the matching set of panties. he looked at you in adoration of your naked body, before looking up at you,
“are you ready, angel?”
“but i want to help you too, ron”
you said leaning to grab at his briefs before he grabbed your wrist in his hand, and interlocking your fingers.
“tonight is about you, your my priority.” his tone was hoarse but a mix of gentle lacing it, the last sentences being whispered in your ear. you tried to suppress a shiver before grabbing his face and looking into his sheer-like azure irises.
“i want you inside me” your voice slow and and heaving, you spoke then kissing him again. he moved up, placing himself between your legs and leaning on both of his forearms, one of his hands tangled in your tresses and the other grabbing at your hip.
his cock hard, almost painful and leaking with precum started to slip into you, only managing the tip in before a whine escaped your lips while digging your nails into ron’s flexed bicep.
“it’s ok, m’right here”
he took your nod as a sign to keep going before slowly pushing fully into you. at first his strokes only small, barely there. he didn’t want you to hurt, he adored you and he just wanted to make you feel good.
“ron, please. go faster” you said gripping his hair in one of your hands, and his dipping your nails again in his bicep with the other. he slowly started to build up a pace, he knew you both wouldn’t last long considering this was your first time and the girl he loved was withering in pleasure under him, and only pleasured by him.
he let out a grunt into your neck, as he littered it in kisses while murmuring small praises into your ear. you tried to suppress your moans by biting into your lip, hoping hermione wouldn’t come looking for you.
“ron i’m gonna- fuck”
“me too, come with me” he said in between small grunts. you both let out low moans at the same time before he let white ropes of cum shoot into you and another wave of euphoria washed over you, harder this time. he laid beside you, both panting as he grabbed a blanket covering the both of you. he leant his head on your shoulder, his arm winded around your waist, pulling you closer to him and kissing your shoulder.
“keep the rings, darling, they look better on you.” he said in between pants.
you looked at him before speaking,
“is this the part where we separate and go to our dorms?” you mumbled, scared of his answer.
“no.” he whined, “i don’t know about you, but m’tired” he said sleepily, closing his eyes.
“we’re also naked, the first years will be mortified-“
“don’t care. they can close their eyes” he said, with sass.
“your brothers and all of our friends will tease us for all eternity” you teased with a laugh.
“they’ll be more relived that the pining is done.”
“pining over who?” you said, arching your brow.
“YOU. merlin woman, you are blind.” he picked his head off your shoulder to look at you before putting his head in the crook of your neck, giving it a small peck.
“mortified, ron. i’m telling you—“
#regulus black x reader#ginny weasley x reader#pansy parkinson x reader#blaise zabini x reader#fred weasly x reader#hermione granger x reader#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x reader#neville longbottom x reader#lily evans x reader#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#harry potter smut#george weasley x reader#draco malfoy x y/n#james potter x y/n#sirius x y/n#draco malfoy imagine#harry potter fanfiction#remus lupin x reader#ron weasly imagine#ron weasley#ron weasley x y/n#ron weasley x reader
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no place like home (ao3 link)
“For fuck’s sake,” said Fake Mr. Stark. His arm turned glowy, only for a second, and then it was covered in blue and silver armor.
One fast movement and he seized Peter’s arm.
“Stop,” he ordered, with a dangerous chill lacing his voice.
Peter stilled, though his breaths still came fast and heavy, and Fake Mr. Stark released him, with a soft shove. He tried to reel it in. His breathing. His panic. The tears he fought back, and the fatigue that threatened to overtake him. He felt like… someone else. Younger. He felt stupid.
He lost the battle to remain sitting up, and let his head slump against the window, where he idly watched as they passed building after building, speeding off somewhere unknown, somewhere away from May and Ned and MJ and the real Mr. Stark.
OR
Peter Parker is kidnapped and forced to survive in a darker universe, one that is ruled by a darker Tony Stark. The people he leaves behind struggle with not knowing what happened to him, eventually prompting Tony (our Tony) to reunite the Avengers to bolster the search efforts.
read after undercut
A man stepped out of a car, and a ring slipped off his finger.
It hit the concrete with a bounce, with a quiet noise nobody except Peter could hear. He stopped, in his tracks, with both his hands clasped around the straps of his backpack. He wasn’t in a hurry to reach Midtown High, where an exam waited for him in his first period English Lit class, but maybe he should have been.
He’d replay that day, over and over, many times in the future, and imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t stopped. If he’d kept walking. If he’d made it, somehow, safely to school. But those were just fantasies. Future Peter knew there wasn’t anything, really, that could have stopped something as inevitable as Tony Stark getting his own way.
“Oh, hey, Mr. Stark,” said Peter, tearing his attention away from the ring sitting in the ditch, and forcing his eyes to meet Mr. Stark’s sunglasses. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
Peter’s ears began to ring. The little hairs on his arm stood straight up. His spidey senses scratched and clawed at him, begging him to listen.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he told him. “Thought my favorite spider-ling might need a ride to school.”
“Oh,” said Peter. He scanned the street, looking for the threat, but there was nothing. No aliens falling from the sky, not even a petty criminal searching for a purse to snatch. There was nothing, no one, except for Peter and Mr. Stark.
“You feelin’ alright there, Pete?”
“Yeah,” he said. He shook his head, trying to shake the dread away. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”
“Good,” said Mr. Stark, hitting him with a smile that looked a bit out of place. He put his hand on the open car door. “Come on, I have a suit upgrade I wanna show you on the way.”
“Awesome.”
A warm breeze combed through his hair as he climbed into Mr. Stark’s car, out of the sunny day and into the dim lighting and air conditioning of the sleek, black Audi.
It’d been a beautiful day for a kidnapping.
Too gorgeous, actually.
Peter never imagined horrible things could happen on a day like that one. Not before, at least, when his world had been colored in brights that had nothing to do with what the weather was up to outside.
After he saw the world in drab, dull greys, and occasionally but still too often, splashes of dark red.
Peter clicked his seatbelt into place just as Mr. Stark shut the door behind him. The Audi rejoined traffic automatically, without a driver, and before Peter could ask why Happy wasn’t driving them, Mr. Stark handed him a metal bracelet. It glowed with the same shade of blue as an arc reactor. He accepted it, and handled it with care, as if it were very fragile and it might break if he breathed on it the wrong way.
“Do me a favor and put that on,” said Mr. Stark.
He slid it on his wrist without hesitation and admired the way it looked on his arm. “Oh, cool. Is this the upgrade? Is it nanotech?”
“Something like that.” Mr. Stark tapped his phone a couple of times, and the bracelet shrank until it secured, tight, around Peter’s wrist.
An eerie calm pulsed through Peter’s body, numbing his distressed spidey sense, but somehow, kindling a deep sentiment of unease. He didn’t like feeling trapped. Something that Mr. Stark knew, and this bracelet, whatever it was, felt suffocating.
“Hey,” said Peter, his head snapped up as the Audi turned. “I think there’s something wrong with your nav system. Midtown is the other way.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my tech, Petey,” said Mr. Stark. “You’re not going to school today.”
Peter blinked. “But I have a Lit test.”
Mr. Stark let out a booming laugh, a sound so uncharacteristic and dark that it sent chills down Peter’s spine.
He frowned, confused, and let his back hit the car’s seat, unable to resist a wave of drowsiness that attacked him out of nowhere. Peter watched Mr. Stark, his heart thumping away, as the man took off his sunglasses and met his stare. It was an instant revelation. The truth sat there in the cold and empty eyes of this man somehow wearing Mr. Stark’s face.
A rush of adrenaline shook the tiredness away. He tugged at the bracelet locked around his wrist, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled at the car door handle in vain, and when that didn’t work, resorted to using his fists, attempting to smash the windows open. His fist blared with pain, but the window remained intact.
“So dramatic, aren’t you?” said Fake Mr. Stark, in a bored tone. “Just relax, kid, we’ll be home in a jiffy.”
“Home?” asked Peter, unable to keep the tired, whiny panic from dripping into his voice.
“Yep, your real home.” He quipped.
Peter took a deep breath in. He needed to think, but his thoughts swirled around in a misty haze as the tiredness crept back in.
Think, he urged himself, come on Spider-Man.
He was stuck in a car with a maniac who looked like Mr. Stark. They were driving further and further away from the streets Peter was familiar with, and he’d willingly imprisoned himself with some kind of bracelet that was zapping his powers, turning him into an exhausted and powerless shell of himself.
That last word, powerless, floated around in his foggy mind, drifted in and out of his consciousness until a cord snapped deep inside him and he was desperately scratching and clawing at his own skin, until his wrist started to peel and bleed.
“For fuck’s sake,” said Fake Mr. Stark. His arm turned glowy, only for a second, and then it was covered in blue and silver armor.
One fast movement and he seized Peter’s arm.
“Stop,” he ordered, with a dangerous chill lacing his voice.
Peter stilled, though his breaths still came fast and heavy, and Fake Mr. Stark released him, with a soft shove. He tried to reel it in. His breathing. His panic. The tears he fought back, and the fatigue that threatened to overtake him. He felt like… someone else. Younger. He felt stupid.
He lost the battle to remain sitting up, and let his head slump against the window, where he idly watched as they passed building after building, speeding off somewhere unknown, somewhere away from May and Ned and MJ and the real Mr. Stark.
Peter’s eyes fluttered, but he fought to keep them from closing.
“Please just let me go,” said Peter, forcing the words out, thinking about May coming home from work, thinking about her watching the sky grow darker and darker, waiting for him to return.
“Don’t beg, Pete,” he told him. “It’s beneath you.”
“Who are you, even?”
Mr. Stark turned and looked at him. “Oh, that’s right. How rude of me. I guess we haven’t officially met. I’m Tony Stark.”
“No you’re –“
“-not your Tony Stark. Can you imagine? What a miserable man that guy turned out to be,” he said. “No, not him. I’m Tony Stark, but better. Some might say superior, even.”
“Not me,” said Peter, with a raspy voice, a definite sign his body was giving up, no matter how badly he fought to stay awake. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Oh really? You wouldn’t?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, and with a hint of shock “Well, you will.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
Fake Mr. Stark smirked. “Why don’t you take a nap? You seem a little grumpy.”
Peter channeled his remaining energy into shooting Fake Mr. Stark a glare. He took a slow, steadying breath, then frowned again.
“Wait, that doesn’t make sense,” said Peter. “There can’t be two –“
“Stop fighting it,” he cut him off. “Just make it easy on yourself and go to sleep. First trip through the multiverse is hell, even for someone like me.”
“…Multiverse?”
His head swam and remembered, or tried to, the conversation he and his Mr. Stark had had about the possibility of a multiverse. Not something we’ll ever have to worry about. That’s what Real Mr. Stark had said. Peter heard it, heard the memory, and saw the man with kinder eyes and a warmer voice, reassuring him. As his eyes slipped shut, he managed to convince himself that this was all just a nightmare.
Until the cold voice came back.
“That’s a good man,” said the imposter, as if Peter were choosing to fall asleep all on his own. “It’ll all make sense when you wake up.”
But Fake Mr. Stark was a liar.
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MERCY
• pairing; toji fushiguro x reader [ nsfw ]
• premise; it’s the same dance with him, a shameless game of cat and mouse in which he always win but maybe losing is equally as rewarding.
• words; 2078
• note & warning; i’m back with some toji content, he’s just been in my mind a little to long for me not the write about him. some warnings for this one is public, unprotected ( wrap it and then tap it folks ) sex, with the usual grammatical errors—I swear I try to proof read ya’ll but they just manage to find a way to stay in there. i am slowly but surely getting my mojo back.
Old habits die hard; it's easier to hate each other that way. Labeling whatever that was manifesting between the two of you as that, a bad habit. A dirty secret only an onyx sky could appreciate enough to hide. Perhaps that's what kept it alive and kicking, midnight turmoil, where even the most terrible of bad ideas are more seductive.
Though it's debatable if the alcohol left you unhinged, mindless, and bold. What other excuse did you have for allowing the bastard to enter your domain? There was no shame from the thinking without a conscience, but with the pounding music and pulsing lights, you weren't sure there was even space to think. He held a brazen stare all evening, keen to every move you made.
A man's attention was never anything to sneeze at, but when it was a straggler like Toji Fushiguro, it was intoxicating. And more than the liquor, everything seemed to be within reach under his spotlight. He held his distance, clung to the darkness, yet with such an adamant gaze he could have been right there beside you. At least, that's how you imagined it but the game wasn't that easy.
He'd stay in his dark corner, not quite able to step closer until you were ready. Until the heat underneath your skin became unbearable, leaving you an aching mess. That made it easier to devour you. Whether it meant burying his head between your thighs or hooking his arms around your waist and keeping you open. Or bottomed out inside you, mouth feasting on your chest.
The club was full, Friday night packed but it would work in your favor. You knew none of the songs, not that it mattered, it was mere fuel to your movements. A nice accessory to the sway of your hips, to suggestive temptation behind them.
It wasn't worth looking in his direction; he was always watching. At that thought alone, your clothes become a nuisance. A means to an end, that would start with him. Toji was a patient man but knew that patience didn't extend to everyone, you in particular. He was a tease, and as your dress inclined it almost felt as if he'd been the one to hike it up.
A sensation too similar to his hands moving over your bare thighs, ready to pry them open. His smug chuckle was right there feeding your imagination, and as one song faded into the next, there wasn't a spot on your body that hadn't been kissed in theory. With one thought, you were drooling over a man less than ten feet away, fantasizing about all the ways he could take you. It was more of a headache than it seems, and as the pace of the songs picks up, the conscience returns. Whilst you make your way back to the bar. You'd need a little more liquid luck to get through the rest of the night.
“That was quite a show.”
“Didn’t know I had an audience.” What else could you have done but tell a bald-faced lie? Telling him the truth didn't do anyone any good. How you envision him fucking you in the middle of the dance floor.
“Could’ve fooled me." The bar was located farther away from the DJ and next to the restrooms. The quieter end of the venue, but you're sure you'd have heard his smirk regardless.
After all this time, it's only then that you turn to him.“What are you doing here Fushiguro?”
Big mistake, ten feet away he looked the same as when you last saw him, but up close and personal, some details that had escaped memory came back to haunt you.
“Would you believe me if I told you, I’m here to see you?”
Yeah right, “Not in the slightest.”
“It’s true for the most part, had a job in the area and thought I’d pop in do some sightseeing." He shifted his weight back to the counter, his elbows well-rested on either side.
“Well you came and you saw.”
“On the contrary,” he said. The double meaning has turned your cheeks crimson, and you're thankful for the red lights underneath the counter. “Cute dress.”
Images from moments before gloss over your eyes, heating every part of your body. They burned a path down your chest before settling below your hips.
“Seriously Fushiguro what do you want? You made it pretty clear we both want different things the last time you popped in.”
“Things are different.” Sincere wasn't the word you or anyone else would use to describe the guy, but his demeanor defied all expectations. He seemed to be a completely different person.
“Yeah, they are,” you mumbled, tossing back a shot you managed to order before his interruption.
“Look," he started and turned to face you. Face inches from yours, his scent enveloping both of you. "I tried the settling down thing and it doesn’t work with my kind of lifestyle.”
It wasn't the words you wanted to hear, but you probably wouldn't have had them anyway. Wishful thinking, “Then that’s clears things up doesn’t it?”
Toji Fushiguro didn’t do apologies, much like he didn’t do commitment, and even as he called after you, that would never change. Something you wish your body would recognize, no matter how much it longed for him.
The corridor to the restrooms was too quiet for him being that close to you...too intimate. In the quick second you had turned you back to him, ready to sober up and head home, he’d already been behind you. Pushing you up against the wall in the far corner, his arms barricading you in.
“You’re quite stubborn, you know that.” His voice was low, quiet all to maintain the secrecy veiled in the darkness.
“Thanks, I’ll be sure to add it to my resume.” You witted, going to duck around him but he was quick and with a step forward his hips pushed yours in back place.
“Will you just listen,” he pleaded. Not that you had much of a choice, but he took your silence as obedience. “I won’t make excuses, I’m a shitty guy but it’s gotten me this far. You won’t get the white picket fence with me. That’s not who I am.”
It was true, he was a shitty person. One minute here and the next gone with the wind. All with impeccable timing, usually around when he’d finish fucking you senseless. Truthfully it wasn’t something too much of a problem, it was better if he had his life and you with your own. Though you supposed between the kisses, and that final thrust that brought you both over the edge left some vulnerability.
“If I’m stubborn, then you’re quite dense. I never asked for that Toji. I was fine with the wild sex but was a little conversation too much to ask? You’ve got baggage, newsflash so do I, but you’d think we’d handle it like two grown adults. You’ve always been on the move, please, slow down every once in a while.”
The silence is deafening, louder than the upbeat track in the distance. You were irritated, angry, and, to make it worse, aroused. What else did he expect from you but a meltdown? As he moved his head to your back, he lowered his arms, allowing them to ghost your waist. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, kissing it.
In retrospect, you should have jumped for joy, climbed to the top of the bar, and screamed at the top of your lungs like a lunatic, but you didn't. You didn't want to abandon his embrace at that moment; he had really changed.
The kiss in trial is slow and tender, responsive to not only the worries but any emotion in between. Everything you didn't think he was capable of and all rage bleeds into desire. Each of you starved and desperate to find a fill.
The stiffness of his pants condemned his hold, which found its power over your hips. You want to propose that he return the excitement to your place or whatever hotel he was staying in, but he broke the kiss to turn you around. His patience had reached its maximum for the night.
“Wait for a second,” you mumbled out. A slight moan slipped through feeling his erection firm and strong against your rear.
The ends of your dress taunted by his fingertips liked how you pictured them too. “Sorry princess, no can do.”
It’s almost impressive how quickly he lifts your dress and slipping a finger past your thong. But should anyone know your body in grave detail it was him.
There’s a ceremonial cheer from the crowd as the DJ lets the beat drop, Toji’s opportune moment of intrusion. Your own cry, not one in interest to the music but the long slender finger to part your folds.
“I’ve waited all night to get my hands on you,” he mumbled out, lips pressed to the back of your neck.
“Toji—”
“I’ll be quick, just the way you like it.”
It’s in your best interest to stop him there, keeping private matters just that, you should stop him...should.
“Fuck…quickly.” you cursed out in compliance. There’s a smirk on his face, you know it. Sure he’s different, but some things never change.
In the second he pulled his finger away, you whimper half expecting for it to slip back in, maybe even with a partner but a casual Friday night turns into Christmas.
“I'll take my time with you later, right now—” he started face pressed into the back of your shoulder. “I just need to be inside you.”
First was the tip of his cock, a feeble tickle before the rest of his inches followed. Stretching you full, slipping deep into your heat. Coaxing the ache that was for him, letting the world see just how easily your body welcomed his own. Yet, it was hard to care about the rest of the world when your own revolved around everything below your hips.
He gripped them tightly, anchoring you there at the hilt with a slow sure thrust before looping a hand to your front. Twisting the nerves in time with his sudden thrust. Quick like he said, but still slow enough to feel him move inside you. In and out, then over again. The excitement of having him there indulging with your body, and the anxiety of getting caught clashed. Making you even more aware of your walls around him, but in his muffled moans there are words of encouragement. Sweet nothings that make your arousal fierce, sexy, and less wrong.
“Don't stop, ” you say a little too loud for doing something taboo but you don't care, “Don't fucking stop.”
The million and one fantasy that flooded your mind on the dancefloor spirals, winding with the moment and coiled in an untamed void. Ready to snap at those trying to control it. And there, shrouded in the thin veil of privacy Toji picks up his pace, teasing it with each stroke until finally, it shudders through.
Coming in waves, meeting your peek every time he pushed forward. Bolting down your legs the more sloppy and anxious his hips became.
“Fuck, ” he grunts hands shooting to your chest. Pulling you closer to him, eating up your moans with his.
Almost feral with the way he continued despite his cock’s twitches, he wasn't nearly satisfied but that was a mess neither of you was capable of cleaning up at the moment. Regrettably, you push back on his rhythm stopping it completely. Snapping him from the haze.
“We should go, ” you whisper out on his lips. Which he can only grunt back in response to, hesitant to slip from your warmth.
His hands are glued to your body, unable to null all contact as you tugged your dress back down or as he tucks himself back into his pants. You'd ask whether it was back to your place or his but the languid look on his face as the two of you shamelessly stepped into the light made it fruitful. It didn't matter where the two of you went, he'd have you crying for mercy.
#jjk#Jujutsu Kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader smut#fushiguro toji x reader smut#gojoho
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Suna x reader: Final part (smut)
Here’s the final part to my Suna series! I wasn’t satisfied with my fluff version of the ending (which you can read here if you’re interested) so I decided to write a more smutty version.
Warning: degradation, angry sex, light choking, mostly just a lot of degrading lol
I genuinely think this is the hottest fanart I’ve ever seen of him I can barely look at it without ✨butterflies✨.
Art creds go to @minghuaa_art on twitter!
Despite Kita seeing you that day in the car, Suna still asked to keep whatever was between you a secret. That was fine with you--you didn’t particularly want a boyfriend, especially with the second semester of college work picking up. You still got to see him pretty often, hooking up in his car or your dorm at least three nights a week or more. Never the frat house; apparently his roommates were annoying.
It was nice. Easy. Far easier than you ever expected friends with benefits to be. And beyond the sex, you loved talking to Suna; laying together on your tiny bed, legs tangled, while he explained the new music he was listening to, or walking together to the cafeteria as he made you laugh so hard that water came out of your nose.
The good parts were enough to overlook the bad parts. At first.
Suna was an abnormally horrific texter, barely ever responding within the day, if at all. If you ever wanted to get in contact with him, you’d have to call directly. And honestly even then he didn’t have the best track record.
What was more frustrating was that it was always on his time. He would text you asking to hang out that night, and you would say yes, and then he wouldn’t respond until the following afternoon with some vague excuse about being busy. The first few times it happened, you got so mad that you didn’t respond to his calls, until he showed up at your dorm with panda express and forced you to watch Tokyo Ghoul with him.
He had apologized...but it didn’t stop happening. It made you feel like you were some sort of side whore, who he called when he was bored and had nothing better to do. Like you were second best to everything else he had going on in his life.
You had promised yourself from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get close enough to get hurt, but it was hard. You really, really liked him.
You liked the way he would stare at you while you talked, actually listening and curious as to what you had to say. You liked the way he hugged you after a few days of not seeing each other, burying his face in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough to you. You liked the way he laughed, both the usual, quiet chuckles and the rare snorting wheezes. You liked the way his mouth looked when he smoked, the way he moaned your name when he came, the way he could make you laugh at anything at any time.
You didn’t want to get the “I told you so” talk from Kiyoko, so you avoided the topic all together: with her, and yourself.
After one month of hanging out with Suna, you were planning on meeting up and going to see a movie. Both of you were more homebodies, preferring to stay in rather than party, but you had decided that you wanted to try and expand your horizons once again. The movies seemed like a happy compromise.
The film was something Suna had been talking about for a while, an action thriller that honestly looked like shit but got good audience reviews because of all the flashy fight scenes. He had been so excited when it came out that you hadn’t been able to say no to going, especially not after he pried you with food.
He was coming to get you at 6 pm, and your last class ended at 3pm, which gave you plenty of time to get ready. You stared at the face of your teacher on the screen within your zoom class, zoning out as he explained the flood system around the school. You glanced over as your phone buzzed, a message from Suna popping up on the screen.
Suna
Wha u doying rit now?
You
What?
Suna
Sorr little drynk
You
You’re drunk?
Suna
im at psrty
You
Are we still seeing a movie tonight?
There was no response, and you felt your stomach drop. You didn’t even notice as your teacher ended class and logged you off the meeting. Suna was at a party at 3 in the afternoon, drunk, and didn’t seem to remember you had plans. You swallowed, shoving your phone aside as you ground your teeth. Why was he so frustrating?
You stood up, angry at yourself for caring, furious at Suna for making you feel this way, for being such a piece of shit. You knew what party he was probably at--Kiyoko had said she was going at some point--and suddenly you were moving before you could think about it.
You dressed nice, but casual enough that it wasn’t out of place at a frat party. Sexy enough to make him want you though, of course.
You didn’t give yourself time for nerves as you strode from your dorm and headed in the direction of the frat house, following a steady stream of people already going in that direction. You knew it was Friday, but how the fuck were so many people already getting ready to party when it was literally 3:30????
It wasn’t overly crowded in the house when you entered, but enough where it was confusing as you wandered through the crowd. You snatched two drinks from the counter, downing them as fast as possible as you searched for Suna in the crowd. You’d need to be at least tipsy before having this confrontation.
You found him in the living room, sprawled out on the couch next to who you recognized to be Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita, and Iwaizumi--all who you knew through Kiyoko. There were a few others you didn’t know, and they were all clearly drunk out of their minds.
As you entered the room, Suna met your eyes for a brief moment, but then they moved on without a reaction. He didn’t care at all that you had come to find him, or that he had never responded to your text.
The drink in your hand trembled, and you walked out of the room without looking back.
Instead of talking to Suna, you decided to get wasted. An hour after first coming to the party, you were deep in a game of beer pong and you had a pleasant warmth in your gut, the world a little hazy. You felt braver, more angry, and suddenly all you wanted to do was track down that yellow eyed idiot and slap him.
“Where’s Suna?” You slurred, turning to look at your partner at beer pong. You knew him vaguely as one of the frat boys, Suna’s friend Atsumu.
Atsumu grinned, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at you. “Suna? Why?”
You weren’t drunk enough to tell him of your “friendship” with Suna, so you just shrugged.
“He’s over there,” Atsumu pointed towards the kitchen, and you felt all the blood drain from your face as you followed his gaze. Sitting in a chair, his back to you, was Suna...and on his lap was a beautiful blonde girl with her hands in his hair as she kissed him fiercely.
You must have made some sort of sound, because Atsuma looked back at you. “You good?”
You forced yourself to nod. “I’m...going to go get some fresh air.”
“I’ll come,” he said, and you decided not to argue.
Seeing Suna had sobered you up considerably, but your emotions were still a complete mess. All you could feel was a deep, unending hurt.
As you headed down the hall, Atsumu grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face him. “So...you and Suna huh?” He said, a strange smile on his face.
“What are you--?”
“It’s fine, you don’t have to keep it a secret.” He took a step towards you, and you raised your eyebrows.
“We aren’t together.”
“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind,” He gently took your chin, lifting your face. “If I did this?”
“I--”
“What the fuck.”
All the breath wooshed out of you at the familiar voice, which was now laced with anger. Suna stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets as he watched you and Atsumu. He was smiling, but it was icy with rage and...jealousy?
“Suna,” Atsumu grinned, releasing your face but not stepping back. “What do you want?”
Suna jerked his chin in your direction. “How about you get away from her, and then we’ll talk?”
“Dude,” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “She just told me she was single. I don’t get what the problem is.”
Suna’s face tightened. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here in the next three seconds, I swear I will break your--”
“Chill, ok!” Atsumu stepped back from you, given you a frustrated look before heading away down the hall.
When he was out of sight, Suna’s head slowly turned to face you, his eyes dark. “Single?” His voice was a low snarl.
You swallowed, feeling your anger return full force. How dare he. “Yes!” You snapped, “Since you clearly don’t view this as any sort of relationship.”
“What are you talking about?”
“So you can go off kissing other girls, but I can’t flirt with Atsumu?”
“Looked like a bit more than flirting,” he said, teeth bared, before the other part of what you said caught up to him. “And how drunk are you? I wasn’t kissing shit!”
“Are you seriously lying to my face right now? I saw you!”
“I didn’t kiss anyone! Do you really think that little of me?”
You clenched your fists. “Atsumu said--”
Suna was in your face in a second, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. “What did he say?” He growled.
You clenched your jaw, glaring at him in silence.
Suna gave a dark chuckle. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”
You barely had time to react before he gripped your chin, kissing you roughly and shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, and the sound snapped whatever restraints Suna had. His hands ran down the back of your thighs, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you through the nearest door into a random bedroom. He kissed down your neck as he kicked the door shut, and you gasped as he tossed you on the bed.
Your eyes slid down his chest and across his toned stomach as he pulled his shirt over his head, completely at a loss for what to do. You could feel the heat pulsing between your legs, making your heart race and your body tremble. But this was wrong. Right?
You didn’t have anymore time to think about it as Suna gripped your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed.
“Why do you still have clothes on?” He snarled, yanking your leggings off and leaving them in a tangled mess on the floor. His eyes darkened as they swept over the pair of lacy underwear you had worn, sliding towards your center where you kept your thighs clenched tightly together.
He didn’t say a word as he forced your legs apart, dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, yanking down your underwear, and positioning one of your legs over his shoulder. You shuddered as his hot breath caressed you, and he ran lazy circles along the inside of your thighs with his long fingers.
“Fuck…” He murmured under his breath before looking up at you. “Do you want me to--”
“Stop teasing me Suna,” you groaned, shifting your hips, and he laughed darkly.
“Fine.”
You practically screamed at the first sweep of his tongue, managing to turn your face into a pillow to muffle your noises as he worked around your clit and used his fingers in your core. You bucked your hips up into his face, and his laughter vibrating through your body almost had you coming within the first minute.
You let out a low cry of protest as he pulled away, raising his head to glare at you. His mouth was covered in your juices, his hair rumpled and eyes glassy. He leaned over you, yanking away the pillow you had been using to cover your mouth and throwing it across the room.
“What are you--”
“I want to hear you begging for it,” he snapped, and you managed to roll your eyes before he shoved his fingers back into you.
“You’re so--ah!” You shuddered.
Over the course of a month of fucking each other, Suna had figured out exactly how to make you fall apart under his tongue and fingers, so it didn’t take long for him to work you into an early climax. Your legs shook, and you let out a series of moans as you came all over his mouth.
He got to his feet after making sure he had licked you completely clean, gazing down at you with possessive smugness.
“Why do you look so fucked out already? We’ve barely gotten started.”
You didn’t even argue as you got onto your knees on the bed, hands sliding into his hair as you kissed him angrily, unsaid words erupting. He allowed you to shove him onto the bed, and you focused on unzipping his pants and throwing them aside, ditching your shirt and bra along with it. His boxers went next, and then you had his dick in your hands, stroking it while Suna groaned.
“Here,” he panted, tossing you a condom, and you slid it over his cock just like he taught you. You positioned yourself over him, impatient, your knees on either side of his hips as you thrust yourself down on him in one go. You both moaned at the feeling of finally having him inside you.
“F-fuck,” you gasped, slowly rolling your hips as you rested your hands lightly on Suna’s chest. You went slow, taking the time to feel how deep he reached inside you, the movement on your clit enough to send tingles up the rest of your body.
Suna watched you ride him lazily, his yellow eyes half closed as he took in the way your naked body shifted to move on top of him.
“Ha, you’re doing so good...god--you’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, and you glared down at him.
“You make me so...mad…” You managed between pants of pleasure, and Suna raised his eyebrows.
“You can still talk? I guess I’m not doing enough…”
Before you could protest, he flipped you over so that you were lying on your back with him hovering over you, his dark hair falling around his face as he gripped your throat lightly.
“You’re such a little cumslut aren’t you?” He murmured in your ear, and you arched slightly. “Don’t you ever try and fuck someone else again, got it? You’re only allowed to come around my cock.”
You moaned in agreement, and Suna rolled you over onto your stomach, dragging your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He gave you no warning as he thrust back in, practically fucking you into the mattress.
Your eyes rolled back in your head as he used his fingers to reach around and rub your clit, his other hand running along your breast. You could barely think through the pleasure, and the only coherent word you were managing to say was his name.
Suna leaned over you, yanking your head back to murmur in your ear. “You’re mine, got it?” His words were rough, and you clenched hard around his cock. You could feel your second orgasm approaching, and he could tell too by the way you shuddered around him. He paused in his motion, and you wiggled your hips in protest, trying to get him going again.
“Why’d you stop?” You snapped, glancing over your shoulder when he didn’t continue.
Suna grinned. “Beg for it, bitch.”
He moved slightly, letting you feel the friction, and you gasped in anger and pleasure. This bastard wanted to tease you, make you submit to him…
Despite knowing this, you broke almost immediately. “Please, Suna, please please, I need you so bad--”
Immediately, he picked up his pace once again, adding more pressure to your clit, and you jerked. “That’s a good girl.”
“Ah, ah, Suna, fuck, I love-- you, ahhh…” You cried, feeling moisture spill down your thighs as your stomach erupted for the second time that night.
For a moment he stilled, and you bit your lip in tired confusion. Did he want you to beg again? You weren’t sure you had another round in you.
You looked over to see him with a shocked expression on his face, but it quickly melted into smugness again once he caught you staring at him. “Of course you love me while I’m fucking you like this,” he growled finally. “It’s because you’re such a slut for it, right?”
Your mouth dropped open, but you didn’t have time to say anything as he started moving once again, making you yelp at the overstimulation. Had you said you loved him? Out loud? Oh my god…
“Have I fucked you stupid already?” he purred in your ear, pulling out of your dripping cunt before slamming back in and picking up his pace. You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his as all thoughts flew from your head.
“S-Suna I--” You could barely speak, it felt so good, despite the fact that you had already come. Twice.
He began to pant in your ear, groaning as his grip on your hips tightened.“F-fuck--” He grunted, arms sliding around your waist as he jerked and came.
You both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and Suna easily pulled the condom from his dick before tying it and tossing it in the trash. After a long moment, you rolled to your feet to padded over to where your clothes lay--until you realized that your leggings had a massive rip in them.
“Suna!” You cried, holding up the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, and had the decency to at least look vaguely guilty.
“Sorry.”
“What do I wear?!”
“Here.” He threw the shirt he had been wearing earlier at you, and you gave him a glare.
He had already wiped himself down with the tissues on the counter, and had pulled on his sweatpants once again, leaving him shirtless. His eyes swept lazily down your still naked body, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and you crossed your arms in annoyance.
“Suna,” You snapped, but finally pulled his shirt over your head, not seeing another option. “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” you said, before heading out the door without waiting for a response.
The bathroom was thankfully right down the hall, and thankfully empty. You didn’t feel very guilty about fucking Suna when you should have been communicating in a healthy way, but you definitely still felt mad.
After you had wiped all the fluids from your inner thighs and core, you headed back to the room to grab the rest of your stuff.
You found Suna on his phone lying on the bed, but he looked up as you came in.
“Where are you going?” He said as you gathered your stuff, and you huffed.
“Back to my dorm.”
“Wait,” he lunged out of the bed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t go.”
“Now you want to spend time with me?”
“Just...stay. Please.”
You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Fine.”
His expression relaxed into a happy smile, and he dragged you onto the bed with him before flicking out the lights. You weren’t sure what time it was exactly, but you were sure it was far past two in the morning. Your eyelids drooped as Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.
You were right on the edge of sleep when he murmured, “Did you mean it?”
Immediately you were awake; you knew exactly what he meant. “U-um--” You hadn’t worked out any of the problems between you two, and you were sure he didn’t feel the same way. How were you supposed to admit to loving him like this?
“It’s fine,” he finally muttered. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”
You swallowed. “Yes. I did mean it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt Suna tense around you.
“Really?”
You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to say it. “Yes... I love you.”
You felt his sigh against your air, ticking the little hair on the back of your neck. His hand slid across your stomach while the other gently began to stroke your hair, and the movement had you relaxing despite the tears that had built up at his lack of response.
You closed your eyes and set it aside; you would deal with it tomorrow. Now, it was time for sleep.
“I love you too.” You heard, so soft that it was almost just a breath of air.
It was probably just a dream.
#suna#suna x reader#suna rintaro x y/n#suna rintarō#haikyuu suna#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader#fanfiction#fandom#fanfic#smut
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