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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Billy Hargrove is into you, and you assume that you don't deserve better than that narcissistic douchebag. When heartbreak inevitably happens, Eddie Munson is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (f! receiving), protected p in v, Billy is a POS, reader is insecure about her body (no descriptions given, though she mentions not liking her stomach)

**Billy is very manipulative to get reader to sleep with him, though she does consent**

WC: 5.7k

A/N: This is based on two real experiences I had when I was younger. It's incredibly self-indulgent, but has also been wonderful for my healing process. I hope it can help someone else, too. (Also, sorry if it's rambly; it was cathartic but also emotionally difficult to write).

As the last swimmer exits through the iron gates, you breathe a sigh of relief at the end of another shift. Lifeguarding at Hawkins Community Pool wasn’t necessarily a difficult job, but it sure was tedious. Your flip-flops thwap against the pavement as you pad into the locker room to get dressed, skin sticky from sunscreen and that infamous mid-July humidity.

“So,” Heather says, twisting her blonde hair into a ponytail as she changes from her swimsuit into shorts and a t-shirt, “you ready to hear that secret?”

You nod enthusiastically. It’s all you’d been thinking about since you’d climbed down the lifeguard tower when her watch duty began, and she’d whispered that she had something to say to you privately.

Heather’s eyes gleam as she announces, “Billy told me he thinks you’re hot!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Not that he needed to; anyone can watch him check you out all day long,” she adds with a smirk.

“Me?” you ask incredulously, unable to muffle your surprise. On instinct, you wrap your arms around your waist protectively. Heather might be comfortable changing in public, but your own body insecurities made it torturous for you to even be naked privately.

“Yes, you!” your co-worker giggles. “You should talk to him.”

You’re still mulling over the prospect of Billy Hargrove being into you when your ride pulls up to the pool gates. Waving goodbye to Heather, you hop in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. He picks you up every night you work, and the two of you always split a joint in your backyard before he heads back to the trailer park. It makes your crappy summer job all worth it; God knows the pay isn’t even going to cover your textbooks when you go back to college in August.

“Save any little gremlins today?” he jokes, turning down his music so he can hear your answer.

You shake your head and laugh. “Nah, just yelled, ‘no running!’ about 84 times.” Leaning back in the seat and stretching your legs, you glance over at him. “But Heather told me something interesting.” Eddie cocks his eyebrow, and you take that as a sign to continue. “Apparently, Billy Hargrove thinks I’m hot.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Sure, he’s not exactly your knight in shining armor, but he’s an attractive guy who has a thing for you.

“Oh, ew.” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Please describe the look on that douche canoe’s face when you turn him down.”

“Who says I’m turning him down?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest.

Your best friend sighs. “Well, you should,” he says pointedly, never one to mince words. “Guys like Hargrove only want to get in a girl’s pants and then find a new victim.”

“Why are you being such a bummer?” you snap. Eddie just keeps his eyes on the road, oblivious to your glare. “If Jeff was about to get laid, you’d be throwing him a goddamn parade!”

He chuckles tersely. “That’s because Jeff getting laid would be a fuckin’ miracle.”

You look around, exaggerating your movements for emphasis. “Well, asshole, I don’t exactly see a line of people forming to sleep with me, either.” With that, you pull your knees to your chest and turn your body so that your back is to him.

The car is silent, save for the sounds of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning album crackling through the speakers. After what seems like an eternity, Eddie pulls into your driveway and throws the van in park.

“Did…did you still wanna smoke?” he asks quietly, twiddling with a loose thread on the ripped knee of his jeans.

“Nope.” You jump out of the van, slamming the door shut behind you. “And you don’t have to drive me home tomorrow. I bet Billy will do it.”

You hear him calling your name as you stalk into your house. Honestly, you could really use some weed right now, but you’re too infuriated at him to push it all aside for a quick smoke session.

The next day, you make a point to sit next to Billy when you take your break. He’s smoking a cigarette, occasionally flicking ash into a chipped tray on the table.

“Can I bum one?” you ask, pointing to the rolled tobacco between his plush lips.

Billy smirks, reaching for the pack of Marlboros and holding it out to you. “Didn’t peg you for a smoker, sugar.” He passes you his lighter, and you spark up and inhale deeply.

“I usually prefer something greener, but this’ll do.” You take another drag, trying to work up the nerve to say what’s on your mind. As the smoke curls around your mouth, you notice Billy’s eyes trail down the curves of your body, as though he’s trying to drink you in. “Something I can help you with, Hargrove?” you tease, impressed with the way you easily flirt with him. It’s so unlike you, but it feels good.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly. “You can hang with me tonight. Got the place to myself, so, y’know…” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

Your stomach flip-flops despite yourself. This is what you want, right? No more waiting around for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet. It’s not going to happen, never going to happen, not when you look the way you do. And if a gorgeous man like Billy Hargrove is actually willing to have sex with you, you’re in no position to turn him down. “O-Okay,” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness. “I’m working till nine tonight; is that–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts, flashing you a megawatt smile. “I finish at six, but I’ll stick around just for you, pretty thing.”

Pretty. He called you pretty, and he wants you. Wants you enough to hang out at work for an extra three hours just to be with you.

The rest of your shift drags by; all you can think about is Billy. The way he feels, the way he tastes, what he looks like underneath those swim trunks.

The only problem is that he’ll also want to see you naked. The thought sours your mood. You try not to catch glimpses of yourself in the bathroom mirror after you get out of the shower, and now you’re about to let him see you, completely vulnerable.

Stop being such a baby, you scold yourself. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Billy’s waiting outside the locker room once your shift ends. He takes your hand in his larger, stronger one, and leads you to his car.

“Seems kinda silly, getting changed out of that cute little swimsuit,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “when you’re gonna get undressed again so soon.” He leans you up against the passenger door, pinning your hips back and kissing you hungrily. One hand roams under your t-shirt to the swell of your breasts, breaking away when he feels the fabric of your bra. “You tryin’ to hide these from me, sugar?” He starts to reach for the clasp, but you stand up a bit straighter.

“Did you wanna, like, grab something to eat?” you ask shyly. “We can stop by Benny’s on the way to yours if…if you like burgers?” You cringe as the words leave your lips. Could you sound any more pathetic?

Billy just chuckles patronizingly. “That sounds like a date, and, uh, I don’t do dates.” He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “But I do other stuff real well.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t what you want, but you should want it, and so you push down the apprehension and try to focus on the man in front of you. “That’s fine,” you murmur, even though it isn’t. People have casual sex all the time. It doesn’t mean he’s any less attracted to you. Like he said, he’s not the dating type, so why cause problems where none exist?

“I don’t know if I can wait until we get to mine,” he growls, and you can practically taste the spearmint gum that he was chewing earlier. “Might just have to do you in the backseat, hm?”

You nod as he opens the door for you, pretending for a millisecond to be a gentleman. He clambors in behind you and slams it shut, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his waist. You can feel his erection pressed against your clothed sex, and you allow yourself to smile. You did this to him. You got him hard. Not Chrissy Cunningham, or Heather, or Bo Derek. You.

He starts to take off your shirt, but you push his hands away. “Something wrong?” he asks, giving an exasperated sigh. Did you already fuck this up?

“N-No, it’s just…” you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “Could I keep my shirt on? I don’t really like my body, and I’d just feel better if I didn’t, um, take it off.” Heat blazes behind your cheeks, and you will yourself not to cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy grumbles under his breath, flexing his biceps as he stretches. He lets his hands fall to your ass with a soft smack. “You got me all worked up, and now you’re not even gonna let me see your tits?”

You duck your head in shame. “I’m kinda insecure about the way I look,” you admit, hoping it will soften his heart. Though kinda is an understatement.

He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth impatiently. “Y’know,” he finally says, squeezing the plush of your ass, “you might feel better about yourself if you got naked for me.”

You inhale sharply; that’s not at all what you expected him to say. Maybe something reassuring; something about how much he liked the way you look. Instead, he’s clearly irritated with your hesitation.

“M-Maybe.” It’s worth a shot, and you slowly peel off your top and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor of the car. You watch anxiously as his eyes flit across your bare chest, waiting for his reaction. An indication that he just has to have you and only you.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and simply says, “not bad.” He fumbles with your shorts button before unfastening his own. He strokes his cock lazily, staring at you. “Touch yourself, sugar. Get yourself ready f’me.”

There’s something screaming at you that this isn’t right; he should at least attempt to get you off instead of asking you to do the work for him. But you do as you’re told, not wanting to humiliate yourself further.

You shimmy out of your shorts, pushing your panties aside and rubbing slow, timid circles around your clit. You’ve done this plenty of times to know what feels good, yet you can’t seem to get it right when it counts. Billy doesn’t notice—or care—that the moans floating past your lips are fake, and he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Condom?” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes again.

“Doesn’t feel as good,” he grumbles, but he reaches into his wallet and pulls out the square piece of foil and tears it open, sliding the rubber over his thick cock. He pushes into you, not bothering to take his time as he ruts up. “Move your hips for me,” he tells you. “Bounce up and down; damn, do I gotta walk you through everything?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, and you manage to blink them away before he can see. Maybe this’ll get easier with time, you think. Maybe I’m just too nervous. You will yourself to relax, holding onto his broad shoulders as you lean down to kiss him.

“Feels good, yeah?” Billy grunts, and you nod as you zone out. You throw out a few more half-hearted whines as his hips stutter against your pelvis and he spills into the condom. “Fuck, there ya go, take it,” he croons, sweat trickling down his forehead. As soon as he rides out his orgasm, he’s hoisting you off of him so he can clean himself up. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You try to sound enthusiastic. “Could you, um, drive me home?”

“Whatever,” he shrugs, but waits for you to put your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.

He wants to do this again tomorrow, meaning he wasn’t completely repulsed by your body. So everything should be good, right?

The next week and a half is filled with lust-fueled backseat romps, usually ending with Billy coming and you…well, returning home to use your trusty vibrator. You’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable, but not in your own skin. It’s more that there’s a certain power behind Billy choosing you when he could be with literally anyone else. You hold your head a little higher, walk a little taller. Even your parents notice on your weekend trip to visit your grandparents in Indianapolis, though you didn’t clue them in on the source of your newfound confidence.

When you get back to the pool that Monday, you’re about to whisper in Billy’s ear to ask if he has a second to “check out a situation in the locker room” with you. What you find stops you dead in your tracks.

His arm is wrapped around Heather. They’re laughing together and she presses her lips to his cheek; he tilts her chin so he can kiss her passionately. It’s more tender, more loving than the way he kisses you.

The ground starts to spin, and you grab onto a plastic chair to steady yourself. As soon as Heather walks away, you march over to Billy.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, trying to keep your volume down. You wince as your voice cracks, giving away the sadness tucked inside your frustration. “Are you with Heather now? Like, with her?”

“Uh, guess so,” Billy replies snidely, twirling a toothpick between his teeth.

You bite your lower lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I thought you said you weren’t the dating type?”

He shrugs. “Just kinda happened,” he says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just destroy your world. “You were away, she asked me to go to Scoops and grab some ice cream; one thing led to another, and…” he trails off. “Not like you and I were exclusive or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t wanna be!”

“And why do you think that is, huh?” Billy shoots back. “Why do you think I’d rather be with Heather than with you?” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair slightly. “You’re so goddamn uptight, y’know? Always worrying about the way you look, about people seeing us in the car. Heather just…goes with the flow. I can’t deal with someone so high-maintenance. Actually, most guys can’t.” With that, he storms out of the break room, leaving you trembling.

A wave of nausea washes over you as you slump down in a seat. All you wanted was to be wanted, and you blew it. Billy’s right; your insecurities keep you unloveable.

You try to take deep breaths, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Your shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so you pray that you’re able to collect yourself before you’re due to start your watch. You’re sobbing too hard to notice the two boys peering into the lounge, watching you with growing concern before dashing to the nearest payphone.

You slide on your sunglasses to hide your red, puffy eyes. The last thing you need is people asking you what’s wrong. Just as you’re about to walk over to the lifeguard stand–to switch with Billy, of all people–you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Eddie.

“Um, hey,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Will and Dustin called; said they saw Hargrove yelling at you, and you crying. Told me to ‘get my scrawny ass here, stat.’” He gives a terse chuckle. “Exact quote, by the way.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and never let go, but you remember what he said to you. Worse, that he was right. “‘M fine,” you lie, and Eddie sees right through it.

He gingerly takes off your sunglasses, heart breaking as he gets a glimpse of your tearful expression. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. It’s so tender, sweet, and selfless. It’s Eddie.

“Go tell your boss that you’re not feeling well, yeah?” he says finally, still not letting you go. “We can go grab something to eat, and you can tell me everything.”

“‘M not hungry,” you shake your head, “and I just wanna go home.” Your voice is whiny, but you’re too sad to care.

“Okay, well, you’re still leaving,” Eddie insists, and you don’t have the energy to argue. “The sheep,” he gestures to where Dustin and Will are standing, and they wave as though they’ve been caught, “will tell your boss that you’re sick. Lady problems or whatever.” You feel his fingers intertwine with yours as he leads you to his van. “And you can tell me as much as you want, ‘kay?”

You nod wordlessly as Eddie gives the younger kids a thumbs-up. He normally chooses the music, whether he’s the driver or the passenger, but this time, he tilts his chin towards the radio and says, “all yours.”

You turn the dial until you hear a Fleetwood Mac song, expecting Eddie to crack a joke or complain about your selection, but he just taps the steering wheel to the beat. When he drives to a gas station to fill up his tank, you don’t think anything of it until he comes back out with a bag full of Haagen-Daaz.

“Got all your favorite flavors,” he announces, plopping back into the driver’s seat. “I know you said you’re not hungry, but you will be at some point. So…sustenance.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you manage a small “thanks,” as he drives you back to your place. When he pulls into the driveway, he waits awkwardly for you to say anything else.

Finally, he breaks the silence by handing you the bag from the Shell station. “Don’t want this to melt,” he offers lamely, frowning when you burst into a fresh round of tears. You hear him mutter, “that’s it,” and he kills the engine, jumping out of the van to run to your side. “Up and at ‘em.” He pulls you out of your seat, scooping you up and flinging you over his shoulder with ease. He kicks the van door closed, walking to your front door before setting you down.

“That’s my favorite method of transportation,” you giggle softly, and he breathes a sigh of relief as your humor peeks through.

“Save a horse, ride a Munson, right?” he jokes back, blushing when he realizes the double entendre he just made. “Uh, anyway, I can leave if you want…” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets nervously.

“You can come in,” you say, unlocking the door. He follows you, heading straight for the kitchen and grabbing two spoons from the drawer.

“Figured we could start with cookie dough,” he says, holding out the pint. “Ladies first.”

The two of you sit on the couch in comfortable silence as you dig into dessert. Halfway through, you look up at him through misty eyes. “I’m waiting for the ‘I told you so,’” you say softly.

“Huh?”

You tell Eddie everything: Billy’s claim that he wanted something casual, his reaction to you asking to keep your shirt on, the venom he spewed earlier today. “I never should’ve trusted him.”

But Eddie’s seeing red, fists clenched and jaw squared in pure rage. “The fuck did he say?” He stands up so quickly that he nearly knocks over the pint of ice cream.

“Where are you going?”

“To kick his sorry ass!” Eddie exclaims, grabbing his keys from the table where he tossed them.

“He’s not worth it,” you tell him. “Just…can you stay here and eat ice cream with me? Please?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, plopping back down next to you. “But I still wanna punch him in the face.”

“You and me both,” you agree, taking another spoonful before posing the question you’ve been too afraid to ask. “Do you think I’m a slut?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his bite of cookie dough. “A slut? Because you slept with some douchebag?”

“No,” you say quietly, “for having sex with someone because I wanted to feel beautiful.”

His whole body deflates. “That’s why you…why wouldn’t you think you’re beautiful?”

You bark out a tense laugh. “Where to start? Um, my face, my hair, my body…oh, and apparently, now I’m too insecure and uptight to love, so…”

Eddie cradles your face between his strong, calloused hands. “Listen to me,” he says. “You are the most goddamn beautiful person on this Earth. Your eyes…I could stare into them all day. You have the cutest nose I’ve ever seen. Your smile makes me smile. And your hair…no matter how you wear it, you always look good. Sometimes you say things like, ‘ugh, my hair’s a mess today,’ and I’m just flabbergasted.”

“Flabbergasted?” you interject, amused by his word choice.

“Flabbergasted,” Eddie affirms. “And your body is…I’m gonna sound like such a creep here, so forgive me, but your body is so fucking hot. Like the night we had that argument, you said something about no one else wanting to sleep with you. But I know for a fact that that’s not true.”

“It’s not? Who wants to sleep with me?”

Eddie laughs nervously as he slowly raises his hand. “Um, me? But not, like, in a smash-and-dash way. Like in a take you on dates, hold your hand, be your boyfriend kinda way? Oh my God, just tell me to shut up. Please.”

“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” you mutter.

“Nope. It’s the truth. Cross my heart.” He makes the slashes across his chest with his fingers. “Wait…the thought of us together cheers you up?”

You nod shyly. “Just never thought you’d be into me like that.”

“Well, I am. I so fuckin’ am, holy shit.” Eddie looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s holding back. “Can I take you on a date? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d love a date with you, Eddie Munson.” You watch as a grin spreads across his face, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He lays his arm along the back of the couch, not quite sure whether to put it around you. That’s how the two of you fall asleep as the remaining ice cream melts in its container.

Seeing Billy at work the next day still stings a bit, but it’s easier than it was. You know he’s an idiot, a player, a manipulative piece of shit. And you have a date with Eddie, who is the kindest, gentlest soul you’ve ever met. And you deserve that kindness.

Eddie picks you up from work as usual, but instead of his typical ripped jeans and a concert tee, he’s wearing…well, un-ripped jeans and a concert tee. But he smells like a new cologne as he kisses your cheek, blushing as he pulls away.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he muses, reaching over to hold your hand. “Seriously, I’m so lucky you agreed to go out with me, shit.” He smiles at you, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just…” He can’t seem to shed his dopey, lovesick grin. “Told myself I wasn’t gonna kiss you; like, kiss you kiss you, until the end of the date. But you just look so goddamn gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” you duck your head, trying to hide from him. “I’m the lucky one. My date is hot and has a kickass personality to match.”

“Guess we both got lucky tonight.” Eddie bites his lower lip when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean–”

You squeeze his hand, effectively silencing his racing thoughts. “Where are you taking me?” you ask, trying to change the subject. It’s not that you were embarrassed by his Freudian slip, but after what happened with Billy, you weren’t looking to rush into sex.

“You’ll see,” Eddie says, excitement building in his voice. A few moments later, you’re walking into the Coffee and Contemplation Café, with Eddie holding the door open for you. Your sundress swishes along your thighs as you take a seat across from Eddie. He immediately takes your hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs.

“Eds?”

“Mm?”

“I need to look at the menu.”

“Oh.” He lets go of your hands, looking a bit sad as he does. “Sorry, baby. Shit–can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really like that, actually.” Baby. You’re Eddie’s “Baby.”

When the waitress comes around, you order a vanilla latte, and Eddie orders coffee with cream and two sugars. “That’s what Wayne always orders when we go to the diner,” he explains. The two of you decide to split a piece of crumb cake–one slice, two forks.

“This is a really nice date, Eds.” You wrinkle your nose. “Hmm. I need a cute nickname for you now, huh?”

Eddie taps his chin as though he’s deep in thought. “How about…stud muffin?” He feigns offense when you giggle. “What? Am I not studly?”

“Oh, the studliest,” you reassure him, still laughing. “I like ‘babe,’ though. Because you are a babe.”

“I dunno…kinda like stud muffin better,” Eddie teases, taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, tell me all about your day.”

And so you fill him in on every detail, from the kid who peed in the pool to the mother who berated the lifeguards for “allowing” it to happen. “Like we can control their bladders or something,” you add with an eye roll, and Eddie cackles. A strand of hair falls in his face, and you tuck it behind his ear.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, peering at you from under impossibly long lashes. That’s when you lean in and kiss him, soft and slow and sweet. He’s not expecting it; probably thinking he was going to initiate when he dropped you back off at home. His lips remain frozen for a second until his brain registers what’s happening. Then he’s kissing you back, palm on your cheek.

“Was that okay?” you ask finally. Eddie’s response is to slam a $10 bill on the table and grab your hand, leading you back to his van. He kisses you again against the side door; it reminds you of how Billy kissed you that night that you…

Eddie notices that you’ve stopped kissing him back, and he pulls away. “Baby? You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. He’s not Billy. Not even close. Not even a little bit. You take a deep breath. “Just nervous, c-cause the last time I did this, it, uh, didn’t end well for me.”

Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling you towards him. “Hey, hey,” he coos. “There’s no rush, yeah? And I’d never–never make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I know.” And you do. So for now, you just rest your head against his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of his heartbeat.

The next month before you leave for school is filled with dates, each better than the last. Eddie takes you to the carnival, the drive-in movie theater, picnics at Lover’s Lake…anywhere he can. The kissing gets more fun; you’re able to focus on Eddie–your Eddie–and not on your past experiences.

The night before you’re set to go back to college, you’re ready to take that next step with him. The two of you are sitting on his bed and listening to music; your plans for an outdoor music festival having been squandered by the pouring rain. You move closer to him, straddling his waist as you press your lips to his neck.

“‘M gonna miss you s’much,” you pout, moving your mouth to his. “Want you, babe. All of you.”

Eddie gives a terse chuckle. “I want you too; so fuckin’ bad. But we don’t have to do this just because you’re leaving. I’m not gonna break up with you. In fact, I…” he swallows thickly before continuing, “I think I love you, baby. Shit, no; I know I love you.”

“I know I love you, too,” you smile, kissing him again. “And I want to have sex with you because I love you, and I want to show you.” You dig your fingers into Eddie’s hair, nuzzling your noses together. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he breathes, hands settling on your hips. “You’ll let me know if you wanna stop, right? Just tell me, and we can go back to cuddling. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you say, and it’s the truth.

Eddie nods. “Okay. On your back, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You do as he asks, and you feel his lips trail down your torso, stopping just before he reaches the throbbing ache between your legs. “Yes?” he looks up at you patiently.

“Yes.” With that, he unbuttons your shorts and tugs them down your legs, running his middle finger along your lace panties. He shivers as he feels how wet you are, all for him, and he nearly tears the underwear in half trying to yank it off of you.

“Wanna taste you,” Eddie mutters.

“Y-You can taste me.” You whimper, and Eddie wastes no time licking a soft stripe along your folds, easily finding your clit. “Right there.” His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over it. “Holy shit, yes, right fucking there.”

Eddie detaches from your sex for a second, chin already shiny with your slick. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises f’me, please.” He sounds just as desperate as you do as he plunges back between your legs, this time slipping a finger inside you as he licks. You’re moaning, and there’s no faking it this time. Eddie’s touch has you floating, You can vaguely sense him rutting up against the mattress, so turned on just by eating you out. He’s holding onto your hips, eyes never leaving your body.

“Gonna come, feels s’good,” you whine, never wanting this feeling to end. You grind up into his face as you ride out your orgasm, gripping the sheets and screaming his name. “Eddie, Eddie, I’m coming, holy fuck!” After he brings you back down from the high, you push yourself up onto your knees.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Was that too much?”

“Just wanna return the favor.” You lean over to rub him through his tented jeans, but he shakes his head.

“Not tonight,” he mutters, “I’m too pent up. I’ll never last in that perfect little mouth of yours.” He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips. “Can I be inside you?”

“Yes, babe. Please.” You look down, realizing that your shirt is still on. You want to show him all of you, let him touch every last inch of your body, but you hesitate to take it off.

Eddie must be able to read your mind, because he tilts your chin in his direction. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wanna see you naked,” he admits, “but only if you’re ready. You can keep it on if you’re more comfortable.”

You inhale in for three and exhale for three before you respond. “I’m ready. I’m comfortable.” You lift the shirt above your head, revealing your bare breasts. The incredulous stare on your boyfriend’s face is almost comical. “Are you okay?” you giggle.

“No, I think I died and went to Heaven,” he says, letting his thumbs graze over your hardened nipples. He undresses himself in record time, revealing his long, thick cock. Pre-cum drips from the tip. “Baby, I wanna spend all night touching you, but I’m gonna bust if–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him.

He reaches into his dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and removing it from its wrapper. “Can you put it on me?” he whispers, and you oblige, rolling it down his length. He hisses at your touch, too sensitive to ask you to linger there. He sets you back on the pillows, slowly pushing into you a little at a time until he’s fully inside. “Good, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl. “S’good. You can–you can go faster, whenever you want.”

Eddie threads his fingers with yours, putting your hands up next to your head as he rocks into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you.” He punctuates each I love you with a kiss to your lips.

“I love you, Eddie. ‘M all yours.”

“All mine,” he echoes, “my baby’s all mine. And I’m hers. Her pussy belongs to me and–shit–my cock belongs to her.” He squeezes your hand, not possessively, but as a reminder that it’s him. It’s him, it’s you, it’s the two of you together. His eyes never leave yours, and he suddenly smiles. “You make me so damn happy.”

“This has been the best summer of my life,” you agree, “and it’s all because I have you, babe.”

His chest rubs against yours ever-so-slightly, and the sensation of your breasts has him weak. “I’m gonna come.” His expression is apologetic. “Shit, I didn’t wanna–”

“Let go for me,” you assure him, feeling yourself come undone as you speak. “We c-can come together.” Your second orgasm of the evening happens on his cock as he spills into the condom with a wanton moan. He’s still for a minute, catching his breath before removing himself from your warmth.

“I love you,” he says as he kisses you, sliding off the barrier and tying it. “Let me toss this, and then can we cuddle? I kinda just wanna hold you.”

“I’m down to cuddle before round two,” you say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a few minutes to reload.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says, climbing back into bed and sighing happily as you snuggle into his chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic

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wolkoshka · 17 days

Text

Paranormal II

summary: after your injury in the birthday party, Ghost takes you home, takes care of your wound - and finally gives you a night you’ll never forget… Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 2/3

an: here is part ii, and yes, yes, I know! It’s long overdue. You’re gonna have to forgive a girlie and her lack of awareness to the passage of time.

"I said go get him, not split yer head open. Ooch, lassie, look at ye bruising up. That's an ugly one."

Johnny hassled over you, thumbing your temples as he examined your wound.

Ghost had temporarily dropped you at the bar to go hunting for a med kit. When your gaze had arrayed the room, your best friend had caught your eye, smirking - only to then gasp and push his way to you.

"So what happened?"

"Mating dance," you retorted dryly.

You pressed the glove back to the wound when Johnny released you, leaning against the counter in a snort.

"Did he fall for it?"

"Hardly." Your shoulders slumped defeatedly. "I don't think he likes me very much, Johnny."

"That's Lt for ye, lass. Guy wears a skull for a face. Says he sleeps soundly in it. Shudders, I tell ye. You'd think that'd make ye think twice before approaching him, eh?"

"I think my brain short-circuited precisely for those reasons. I think maybe this hit to the head will remedy that. God knows I need to get him out of my system. A full-on purge. Like those, uh, uh, really intense only-water-for-dinner kind of diets."

"It's hard to get someone ye don't know out of yer mind."

"Exactly! Jokes aside, this is insane even by drunk me standards. Never thought I'd have a crush at this age, but, whelp, here goes nothing! Will get him out of my mind as soon as I stop gawking at those muscles, okay?"

Your friend chuckled.

Over Soap's shoulder, you caught sight of Ghost's form paving way to you, broad shoulders squared, back straight and gait commanding. And yet, there was an almost endearing swagger to his stride, subtle as it was, and it only added to the unmistakable confidence simmering underneath that quiet outfit.

Suddenly, you were air-headed. In the manner people jumped out of his path like he was the most lethal being they'd ever beheld had you seeing rainbows and hearing angelic hymns.

A stupid girl with her big, stupid crush. When was the last time you got one, anyway? High school, that's when. And you felt like a silly schoolgirl again, all those eighth grade magazines on how to talk to boys and attract your crush flooding back.

You wondered what three-way advice they would spell out for someone like Ghost.

Bathe in the blood of his enemies. A sexy look can go a long way!

Rip out the heart of his enemy and gift it to him. All men enjoy a sincere show of affection every now and then!

Take a bullet for him. Take several! Nothing says I have the hots for you like bleeding out in the arms of your crush!

When his eyes found yours, uncompromising and intense even from such distance, the choir increased until you felt like your chest might implode.

"Never mind," you dreamily sighed. This particular crush wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Johnny," Ghost voiced, coming around the man. To you, he crooked a finger. "They got band-aids, but I need to stitch you up. We'll resolve the matter in your place."

Your head perked. "We will?"

Was your night actually going to end with Ghost in your apartment? Maybe even bed?

You looked at Johnny, Johnny looked at you - and you both raised your eyebrows in a knowing look.

"What the bloody hell you two peepin' at each other for?" Ghost growled.

"Peepin'? What's peepin'?" Johnny.

"We're not peepin'." You.

Eager, you hopped down - and immediately regretted it when your vision swayed. Whoops... You clutched your head tighter.

"Easy there," Johnny voiced, hands supporting your shoulders.

Once you righted, you looked up at Ghost. Expectant. Would he carry you?

You kind of, sort of, definitely desired his arms around you again.

As if seeing right through your needs, the muscle below his eye twitched. He set a challenge with his gaze, forcing you to admit defeat and walk a soldier's walk.

You faintly winced. Shrugged. "Owh, my poor head. I feel...dizzy. So dizzy. Don't know...might even trip in the rain. Get a concussion..." Another meek yet daring shrug. "So inconvenient, no?"

"Maybe ye need to go the hospital, lass - Umpf!"

You shut Johnny up with a backward punch to the groin, attention never wavering from Ghost.

There was a soft inquisitive sound, an arch of your brow, before he conceded with a weary blink of his eyes. You had to love the way his lashes fanned every time he did that. Long, thick, and softly curled, they might just make a girl jealous.

Internally, you performed a victory dance. Externally, you outstretched an arm.

His killer biceps bulged around your frame, tugging you close, as he lifted you off your feet. When you corded your arm around his neck and nestled your face on his pec, lashes batting up at him, Ghost looked like he was near to dropping you on your arse and dragging you by your heels instead.

"Don't get used to it, poppy," he grated low.

You wore a look of mock-surprise. "Never."

Gaze too slow to leave your face he spoke to Johnny next, "I'll meet you at the base." He strode past, strong legs falling into pace. "Don't be late. And for fuck's sake, Johnny, get some rest."

Johnny grinned, the act slightly laced with pain due to your earlier assault. "Ye got it, Lt." To you, he gave you a proud thumb's up.

Over Ghost's shoulder, you blew him a kiss and mouthed happy birthday, and I love you big time, you sucker.

When the bar door closed behind you, you pointed out to Simon that he'd forgotten your umbrella and proton pack.

For the umbrella, he said the rain might help sober you up. As for your proton pack, he didn't even bother providing an answer as he took down the street, all pleased with himself as rain mercilessly pelted your face.

When lightning crackled and thunder roared overhead, you thought you felt his arms slightly draw you closer, a bit nearer, but dismissed it, blaming it instead on your active imagination and stupor.

What the bloody hell was he doing, Ghost questioned, standing in your open kitchen and preparing tea for two.

Steam curdled up, obscuring his masked face as he poured green tea into two cups. Clasping the handles, he turned from the counter to place them on the marbled island.

Your abode was a spacious loft with four large windows peering out into the bustling city, the London Eye and the River Thames a distant view, with a ceiling that rose six meters high.

Before him was a sitting area with a comfortable couch, plush armchairs and a TV stand. Fully-stacked bookshelves flanked either side while pots of myriad flowers and wild ferns decorated the space.

A dining table perched to his left, a family photo and Mesopotamian antiques lining the dark cherry wood surface in display. He spotted Johnny in the frame, younger than he's ever seen him, dimples deep in a cheery smile, and he spotted you, hanging onto his shoulders with an eye-crinkling laugh of your own, also young and exuding innocence.

To his far right was your bed, propped against the wall and neatly made, accompanied by nightstands and a reading lamp. To its left was the entrance, separated by a narrow wall of stained glass depicting two mermaids frolicking about. By that, he clearly meant the large cock sprouting from the merman's groin and gripped by the mermaid's slender fingers, their tails entwining as deeply as their tongues, their bodies writhing in unabashed pleasure. It was beautiful, no doubt, made to come alive in colors coral blue, golden, and violet, but Ghost also knew it was custom made.

Anyone would've missed the unorthodox tableau at first glance, but he wasn't anyone.

You had wild fantasies, it appeared, and he wanted to bash his skull in for taking interest in that.

Just like he wanted to bash the mug of green tea in his hand because he couldn't will his feet to walk away.

Granted, you'd asked he stay, at least for a little while, to thank him for taking care of your wound, and sprinting to your bathroom thereafter for a quick shower.

It's been ten minutes now, and Ghost should've been long gone. He couldn't be here. He didn't do one-night stands. He had a number for that, a special visitor, that took care of his needs without him ever needing to undress. Left just as wordlessly when the deed was done. No unnecessary pillow talks, goodbye notes, or call me laters. No strings attached, just as Ghost preferred it.

But you...

The way you wanted him, the way you watched him, eyes growing dark and heavy with desire, it made him realize he'd never been pursued that ardently. Sure, he had instances where he attracted certain women his direction - any bloke with a look like his warranted that - but a simple glower from him had them scurrying off just as quick.

He should be scaring you off too, not exciting you.

Not making you out to be an intoxication he was uncharacteristically impatient to divulge in.

Hell, with his given background and formidable expertise, no one even dared to hold his gaze for longer than three seconds. When he talked, everyone shut up. His reputation preceded him. Yet you... Bloody hell, you not only held your ground, but also eye-fucked him every chance you got.

Ghost didn't quite compute; you were a perfect stranger to him, someone he met but once, and yet you had a face that could make a man happily dream into an early death.

God, there was something about you that made his palms itch for a touch...itch to wrap that hair of yours around his fist, lift his mask, and descend for a proper feeding. A sick, twisted part of Ghost perhaps wanted to see how good you could get him to pillow talk.

It was a passing thought, but chills abraded his forearms. The challenge in it gave him a heated rush of red.

What the hell was the matter with him? he questioned for the umpteenth time.

He shouldn't be wanting such nonsense.

He shouldn't be caring for it either.

He should walk away now. But...

The moment he chose to act, turning, the exit his target, the shower stopped running. The naked pad of footsteps resounded. A towel flapped open. More footsteps, and then -

You emerged from the bathroom, all robed and clean, leaving steam in your wake. It looked like you'd just walked out of a dream, cherub cheeks flushed pink and skin dewy, almost satiny, and - fuck. He internally groaned. He wanted to bite.

What in nine hells? He popped his jaw in frustration.

Upon spotting him, excitement flashed in your eyes, and you nearly skipped over.

"You stayed," you breathily commented, the towel you were using to dry your hair tossed atop the dining table. Traces of vanilla and coconut saturated the air, infiltrating his mask, and his mouth involuntarily watered.

He needed to call that special number tonight, he decreed, or else he wouldn't survive the coming days. Days? More like hour. Keep it together, soldier.

Such unpalatable delight seeped from you, he slowly shook his head.

If only you knew he sewed another man's skull on his mask, beaten to a pulp before stripped clean of all tissue. A constant reminder of what he’d lost. Who he'd lost. If only you knew he viewed the outside world from the eyes of a dead man. If only you knew poison swam in his veins, immortalizing the infectious ichor that damned any soul to near him. Touch him. You would flee the other direction.

You would curse at him, curse him, see him for what he truly was.

A rotting corpse unleashed to the world to haunt. To terrorize.

Would you crave him then, knowing those very hands you wanted wrapped around you had ended lives, and most not so humanely?

He wasn't capable of holding you without hurting you.

Anything good and decent in him had long ago been buried away, and in their stead festered rancid tendencies that worked his mind and body tireless.

Nothing survived him, and you would be no different.

Even tonight, his somber mood a result of the death toll that ripped through his heart, deadened as it was, when he heard - witnessed - the scream of little children blown to pieces by a human bomber he was meant to stop, was no coincidence.

His main objective was to retrieve classified documents, but it had come at a cost when the enemy understood they were compromised.

He had done a bloody good job clearing the entire building, knives soaked crimson, fists even more so, but he'd forgone the basement, a bunker where bombers kept their own hostage. It was a gruesome tactic the enemy utilized to throw their foes off balance. He had a moment's decision before the bomber pressed the button - shoot him with the off-chance of saving the children, get obliterated to pieces and fail the mission, or succeed.

It was either them or the classified intel. He’d ducked for cover.

Choices have consequences, he remembered telling Johnny once, and, fuck, if he didn't hate himself for his.

He tasted the sulfur, the clogging dust saturated with human remains, in the back of his throat. He couldn't wipe those deaths from his eyes no matter how many times he bathed, scrubbed, scraped.

So, no matter you being a perfect stranger, feeding him look upon look of insatiable hunger any man would gladly sacrifice a limb for, he couldn't go down that road.

Especially when you meant so much to Johnny, his brother-in-arms, a man with a heart of gold that reminded Simon of his own. He couldn't do that to him, to you. Christ, he couldn't walk through fire again.

He wouldn't survive it.

And - bollocks, he nearly chuckled - he never sounded more miserable. It didn't matter. He'd be dodging a bullet with you, all right. All his physical needs, he could deal with them like a grown man in the confines of his own four walls.

Besides, he was a goddamn mess tonight, his feelings and thoughts blown asunder. He hadn't slept for seventy-two hours and was in desperate need of some shut-eye.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," your lilting voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked down at you. You shrugged, a small smile forming. "Funny how that works, don't you think?"

Maybe he should give you a taste of what it meant to know Simon Riley. Maybe then, and only then, would you understand the favor he'd been extending you.

Silently, he pushed the steaming cup of green tea your way.

A soft gasp. "A man after my own heart." Your fingers came around the mug, hugging it close to your chest and taking a cautious sip. "Mmm. Just what I needed."

"You feelin' better?" Christ, he might as well have spat out shards of glass with how rough he'd sounded.

You licked your lips, pink tongue darting out. "Yeah. Much," you whispered. "Thanks."

Your lips enclosed around the rim again, plump, red and eager. Red as poppies. He imagined them closing around something else, something harder, hotter, sweetened by your spit.

His muscles stiffened, the itch flaming his palms. Palms he then curled into tight fists - before releasing.

He unsuccessfully cleared his throat. "Right, then, you get that rest, poppy."

He turned on his heel, the exit never appearing more distant as he marched to it. At the end of the island, he'd left the box of med kit and his glove, and he reached for the latter as he bypassed.

A blur of white and he was staring down at your delicate features again.

"Wait, wait, you can't just leave. And you definitely can't take this." You snatched the glove from his grasp and quickly hid it behind your back. You pursed your lips at his quiet glower. "Because I'll, uh, wash it for you. More polite that way."

Bollocks. You meant to keep what was his, you wily little thing. He could easily wrestle it out of your hands, but he didn't want to give you more incentive to put your hands on him. Or, worse yet, his on you.

"You got somethin' you wanna say?" he roughed out.

"Only that I want to thank you. Properly."

"Properly thanked. Now out of my way."

He meant to sidestep but you halted him with a soft, warm palm on his chest. His heart, for the briefest second, quickened at the gesture. Didn't need incentive at all, it seemed.

You struggled for purchase. "Well - Well, what about your tea?"

"I'll live, poppy."

Another step, another pressing of your hand against his body. More adamantly this time.

Bloody hell, such a tiny thing, you were, but he'd never encountered a bigger hindrance. Especially when he was oh, so close to the exit. He was positive you were going to lock your door and swallow the key if he did not indulge you a moment's courtesy.

His abrasive exhale of defeat finally brought your palm down from his chest, and he - what? Wanted to beat your white-bricked walls in at the loss of contact? Absolutely not - couldn't have felt better.

His lids dropped, and his look of defiance rivaled yours. For a second too intense for his liking, both of you were stuck in a battle of wills.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four se -

Christ. That pulled a reaction from him, primal and almost aggressive. The kind that had the blood in his veins rushing hot and wild.

His low, grumbling voice, a contrast to the sudden, violent need unfurling in his lower abdomen, vibrated the still air between you.

"Properly thank me how?"

Of all the answers he could've expected, with how your teeth worried your lower lip, nibbling at the fleshly petal, or how your lashes fluttered, somehow nervous, or even with how your cheeks dusted pink in evident arousal, that is, a meek, "Biscuits?" was definitely not it.

His head jerked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Biscuits?"

He fuckin' loved biscuits.

"Yes. With tea?"

Hell, he loved that more.

He let your words sit for a while. Then, "You got any ginger nuts there, poppy?"

A bashful smile revealed a row of straight, white teeth. He wanted to scrape his own against them, his tongue coaxing in to steal a little taste of you. At the heady image, he tensed.

Growled.

You swallowed. "You don't have to be so angry about it. I've got them. Come on, then, I'll share my favorites with you."

In under five minutes, you had the Ghost sprawled atop your bed goddamn picnicking with a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea in hand.

Having made away with his leather jacket, he leaned back into a heap of pillows you'd placed for him, and - oh, that felt good - his muscles hissed in pleasure at having finally relaxed.

He grunted, his lids threatening to drift shut. Your bed was warm, soft, and smelled of wild lilacs - all qualities Ghost was estranged to in the field, which happened to dominate the better part of his life.

"You'll love this," you said from your spot next to him. He'd momentarily slacked off, and your voice brought him back from the abating garden of flowers he was surrendering himself to.

He breathed in deep, pulling focus.

Having dimmed the lights to your loft, you wiggled to a comfortable position and succumbed to your own nest of pillows.

You smelled like a peachy sunset over a beach of glistening sands, and if he touched you, you'd feel even better.

And now he was turning into a bloody poet.

If 141 ever saw him like this, Ghost would never live it down.

He balanced his plate of biscuits and mug of tea on his lap, but when you pressed your shoulder to his, he nearly spilled the hot liquid over his pants.

It also chased the sleep from his burning lids, and, quietly, he suffered your presence.

His body seared where you touched him, but he made no show of it.

You outstretched your lithe legs, soft and enticing, over the bed, and crossed them at the ankles. At the movement, your white robe parted in the seams, revealing the supple flesh of your thigh, but you made no move to cover it. You simply lay there, still delectable with a kind of sweetness Ghost wanted to languidly lap at with his tongue.

So much so that the muscle now ached in his mouth.

He swore under his breath, his own legs shifting to distance his body from you. His booted feet, he dangled at the edge of the bed. He wasn't that barbaric.

"I thought you were the patient one," you chided, misreading his mood. In your fingers, you clutched some kind of a remote. It possessed two buttons. "Watch this."

You pressed the green one.

A soft whine reverberated from above, and then a portion of the sloped ceiling slid up to, inch by inch, reveal the thundering clouds in the sky.

Not many things had the power to surprise Ghost, but this... Well, suffice it to say, his jaw slightly slacked open.

Rain dazedly pelted the glassed frame, the droplets snaking down in rivulets, and distant strikes of lightning illuminated the cloudy world above, and in consequence, the dark room.

You dreamily sighed, sinking further into your pillows. You reached for the biscuits on his thighs.

Simon hadn't realized he'd placed them too close to his groin, and thought you went in for a different feeding, body abruptly tensing.

The faintest drop of your hand's weight on him had his throat contracting.

Subtly, he had the plate relocated to his abdomen. Much better.

"I had it installed when I moved in. It helps me sleep better at night. Oh, especially in such nights." You hummed out a chuckle and pointed. "Look at that cloud. Kind of looks like the head of a chihuahua, don't you think?"

Lightning crackled. The sky brightened in hues murky gray and electric blue - before plummeting into darkness.

He followed your finger, and released a contemplative sound. It was all he offered, but it seemed to be enough for you.

There was something about the sound of rain and your soft breathing that had Simon lulled to a cozy quiet. Snugged by the pillows, his weight sank deeper into the mattress, and he thought he was in a haven of your making.

This could put him dead out if it weren't for the tempting graze of your shoulder against his, forcing him awake ever time his lashes sluggishly fluttered shut.

You sipped your tea and reached for another biscuit.

Slowly, he lifted his own mask 'til his nose and watched, warily, if you'd sneak a peek. You did no such thing.

Ignoring the twitch in his brows, he bit into the biscuits. The tea smoothed them down his throat, and the warm nourishment felt good in his stomach.

All the while, you talked about your sweets and pastries, the corner shop you bought them from, and how it was your favorite with it having opened almost eighty years ago. And how he also should visit it once he gets the chance.

You finished your tea and placed the mug on your side of the nightstand. Brushing the crumbs from your fingers, you plopped back down, head on your pillows this time.

You still did not look at him.

Sober you seemed to have a few bit reservations than wasted you, it appeared, faintest traces of amusement pulling at the corners of his revealed lips.

Downing the rest of his tea, he put away the empty plate and mug to his side of the nightstand. With that, he masked his lips anew.

In the silence, the only sound the pouring rain, he dwelled in the dark with you.

Then, so softly, you said his name.

"Simon."

His breath hitched dead center in his chest. His eyes arrowed down at your lying figure.

You continued to look away, spiky lashes fanning delicate cheekbones.

"You can stay the night, if you want," you made out, swallowing tentatively and moistening your lips. With a tiny jump, you turned over - and finally tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. You cupped the underside of your cheek. "We don't have to do anything. Not that you - Not that you said you wanted to. I'm sorry. I only mean, it's late...and you must be tired." Then, oh, so gently, "Heard you had a long night, too."

Ghost remained silent for the duration of your speech, and at the last sentence, quirked a brow up. "Yeah? And who told you that?"

"Johnny," you murmured.

"Johnny," he echoed. A low crackling sound sizzled in his chest, but it dwindled out before ever reaching his throat. "You discuss me with Johnny, do ya now, poppy?"

Your eyes dropped from his masked face, and your fingers drew small circles into the pillow next to his.

"Sometimes, I do, yes." So effortlessly admitted. Fuck. "It was merely an evaluation of your person, is all. I could see it too. Your eyes are red. Bit groggy too."

He rasped out a low chuckle, if it could be called that, seeing as some sounds tended to get lost in the wide expanse of his chest. "That it, eh?"

A small smile crinkled the corner of your eye, and if he had a heart, he might've gone as far as to call you a darling right then and there.

You shrugged. "Yeah."

He ran the tip of his tongue against his teeth. Simon knew it was best he end the conversation now, rise from your bed, and exit your apartment. Your life. He got his proper thanks, after all.

But, like a damned fool he could only blame on his exhausted state, he stayed put - and probed further. "What else you bothered Johnny about me, mm?"

You licked your lips again, the tip of that tempestuous pink muscle wetting the seam, and he bit back a wanting grunt.

He'd never been more arrested by a mundane act.

Focus, soldier.

His eyes trailed the gentle curve of your jawline...and down your slender neck.

No, not there, you daft geezer. Away.

"Your mask," your tentative voice filled the room.

"What's wrong with it?"

Your soft hair rustled against the sheets as you shook your head. "Nothing. It's merely got something honest about it, is all. As paradoxical as that may seem, I realize now. It's pleasant."

Pleasant? That's a new one.

But he couldn't have you building false notions about him like that. Maybe it was time he warned you away for good.

"I have more blood on my hands than the one running in your veins, poppy. There is nothing honest about me," he coldly provided.

"Well, I think you're wrong."

Bloody hell, what would it take to dislodge you?

You moved, body climbing up the pillows until your head rested close to his shoulder. And then a little bit more, until you leveled with his face.

The sheer heat emanating from your skin traveled past his clothes, seeping into his pores.

Yeah, you were a darlin', all right. A damn appetizing one, at that.

You shifted slightly, weight on your left hip and bared legs so dangerously close to his.

Through the thick rim of your lashes, you regarded him. "Ghost," you said, and he nearly corrected you. "Would you like to know what else I discuss with Johnny?"

A burning sensation infiltrated his cheek, and he realized you were tracing your fingertips over his masked features. Carefully, cautiously, so as to not chase him away.

"For one, those pretty eyes of yours," you hummed lowly. On cue, you gently trailed a finger down his brow bone.

Heat speared his cheeks at that, and he was grateful for the coverage. Simon Riley, blushing. His lashes fluttered a bit, but other than that, you remained clueless as to his expression.

"And they change color every time I look upon you. Sometimes blue, sometimes silver, other times brown, like sweet caramel, and my favorite, pitch black. How do you do that?"

You studied him enough to have a favorite? At that revelation, his throat tightened.

Wordless, he performed a small, almost undiscernible, shrug, the pillows underneath shifting.

A slow, deep smile curved your cheeks. "You should let me study them in broad daylight. I'm sure I'll solve the mystery in no time." With a cheeky air, you booped the tip of his nose with your finger.

Quietly, he watched your face, coal-dark eyes intent and focused, the only sounds from him his steady breathing.

"God, they're so black." Tenderly, you ran your knuckles across his jawline, angled your head, and then softly guided his face closer to yours.

Once, someone had told him he had no present, past, or future, and he'd told them that he'd see them in hell. Now, Ghost realized hell was here, in the breath of a space between you, where you sat so close to him, and yet he could not close it.

"None of that, poppy." He nudged your hold off.

Disappointment colored your eyes, drooped your shoulders, and brought those pearl-white teeth to gnaw at your fleshly lower lip. And with so much bite, he spotted teeth marks form.

"Easy there," he murmured, fingers acting without his explicit permission and pinching your chin.

At that, the discouragement washed away and your eyes clouded with something dark and promising, putting the storm outside to shame. There you went again with that look. If his career in the Special Forces hadn't driven him mad, this surely would.

Understanding that he shouldn't have touched you, he made to move away, but your fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him close - and sliding your body closer.

The second your hip meshed against his, his muscles seized up, locking tight upon his bones.

God, you were hot against him. Burning up.

Simon nearly bolted from the bed when he felt your legs entangle with his, the blistering tension having unwittingly made away with much of his resolve and rendering him stimulated in places he'd rather not feel stimulated in.

Your toes teased his legs, rubbing up against the coarse material of his pants. Then, they glided over them, finding purchase in his inner calves - and massaging. Up, up, they traveled, then dooown they dropped, creating a spine-tingling friction.

Ghost grunted, shoulders bunching before undulating. He straightened a bit. Good God. He was suddenly too aware of his own body heating up and all his intimate areas. All too aware of his blood pumping and where it was rushing.

"You better stop that before you get hurt, yeah, darlin'?" he grated past his teeth.

You sighed, no doubt relishing in his deteriorating strength. "A little pain never hurt nobody. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

As you said that, you wedged your leg more firmly between his, parting them, and slid your knee upward to lightly grind it against his sensitive groin.

Christ. He grunted with less control now, the feeling slowly slipping through his fingers.

You shouldn't be using that kind of language with him. Shouldn't be talking in such a tone. Because addiction was another sin he didn't mind adding to the list.

His body sweltered from the inside and his heartbeat increased, beating in his ears. He had to leave.

Jerking slightly at another shiver inducing motion, he pushed at your leg.

A final, "No, poppy," scraped past his throat.

"Simon," you tugged at his wrist, voice hoarsely breaking at the end and so desperately, it nearly unmanned him, "I - I'm on fire. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Need... I need you. I can't stop. I don't know why I can't stop. I just - God, I've been needing you for so long now. Every night, I dream of you, do you know that? Every night. Please, please...I'm going insane. I'm - "

That did it.

With a ferocious snarl that was more animal than man, his arm shot forward, calloused fingers latching onto your cheeks and unchivalrously burying your head in your pillows with the abrupt maneuver of his body over yours.

His weight suffocated you into the mattress.

You gasped, eyes gaping wide in alarm.

His ire flared, his desire, even more so.

"Shut the fuck up," Ghost gritted in your face, now panting hot and fast. "Shut your fuckin' mouth now, poppy. Fuck. You ever heed a warning? You ever heard of using your own goddamn fingers? You ever use that pretty little head of yours? Bloody fucking hell, darlin'. Bloody. Fucking. Hell."

You squirmed under him, releasing small, breathless sounds.

The image of you rendered so helpless roused the most primal parts of him and his cock painfully hardened, straining against the strap of his pants.

It was blooming into an ache his hands alone wouldn't be able to assuage. Goddamit.

Your eyes searched his, arraying back and forth, attempting to grasp what just occurred within the span of a blink.

Then, they narrowed, pretty lashes fusing. "I have," you ground out, baring your teeth at him. "I do. But they're never enough." Fuck, you were talking about your fingers. You almost pouted insufferably. "Never what I want. Need. Crave."

"And I am?" he growled out, baring his own teeth. You seemed to like the intensity he exuded, even heatedly roamed your eyes over his masked lips, expression devoid of all fear.

You nodded eagerly.

Yes.

He cursed under his breath.

Lowly, lethally, "How hard did you hit that head of yours, mm?"

You bit your lips to suppress a moan, "Hard enough to get you in my bed."

"That mouth of yours is goin' to get you in trouble, poppy."

You keened at the warning. "Promise?"

At that, he couldn't will himself away even if he wanted to. Not even all the soldiers in his team combined could drag him away when you stared up at him so wantonly, so desperately, silently begging to make away with the terrible ache that shadowed over your every need.

So be it. You would learn your lesson.

"Open your legs," he growled - and slipped his hand underneath your robe.

an: i made it into 3 parts bcs, well, i just had too much fun writing ghost suffering in his self-imposed ✨ agonies ✨

suffice it to say, the next part will be pure filth. pinkie swear this time. strap your seatbelts, girlies, we’re going to the horniest, dirtiest bangtown.

on another note, if anyone is willing to chat/discuss fics relating to cod or any other fandom of their liking, I’ve created a new discord server and pinned it on my blog; all are more than welcome to join ✨

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hotchs-big-hands · 11 months

Text

What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|6.7k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): slight angst, daddy kink, lead up to sex, body insecurities, Dom/sub relationship, sex clubs/strip clubs, confrontation with an unsub who has a knife, minor violence, firearm.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hello everyone!!! Gosh, I didn't expect people to enjoy the first part so much so thank you 💖💖💖💖 it means a lot! If you would also like to join the taglist then please let me know :) Thank you for reading!

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Another couple had been found dead soon enough, they'd also visited the same sex club the night before the estimated time of death. And just the same as the other couples, they were also in the middle of intercourse when they were murdered. But once again the killer had evaded being discovered. Everyone who worked in the club or had visited during the same night the couple had were interrogated, a process that had taken a few days but ultimately turned up no-one of note. Needless to say, the atmosphere in the station was exceedingly tense.

The chief of police was clearly at his wits end, his thin, greying hair was tussled and sticking to his skin from the sweat beading on his creased forehead. He stormed into the conference room yourself and the rest of the BAU were set up in and he made a beeline towards Hotch, of whom was reading back over the profile that you were all struggling to put together.

"Why the hell aren't you all doing anything?! I don't see why you're even here!" He snapped, causing everyone to focus on his reddening face. Hotch slowly turned to him, towering above him effortlessly, and glared.

"If you'll recall, you requested our assistance. And as you can see my team and I are working."

He turned slightly to gesture around the room and his eyes immediately met yours. Your brow furrowed slightly, wishing the chief would project his frustration on all of you, rather than just one person. You straightened up from where you were reviewing the footage from the night of the recent incident.

"I-I- think I have a theory that will help us figure out who the culprit is." You said. The chief spun sharply and you inwardly praised yourself for not flinching when he focused on you. Your eyes flicked to the man beside him for a split second.

"Well? Say it." Your eyes returned to the former again, unimpressed by his rudeness.

"The women. The victims that were women were all wearing a collar of some sort, but when their bodies were discovered there were no collars in sight, not even in the locations they were found in or amongst their belongings." You spoke smoothly, beckoning all to the computer screen you were at.

"You think the killer takes them?" The chief wondered aloud. Rossi answered on your behalf.

"Some killers take trophies from their victims, something to remember them by." He said.

"But what would the unsub do with the collars?" You heard JJ say. Emily crossed the room and pulled off the photos of the victims from the white board, bringing them back over to the monitor to compare with the different footage.

"Maybe they just collect them."

You narrowed your eyes a little as your mind rewound over the different people that had been interrogated over the past couple of days since the latest murder.

"Or they wear them." You mumbled.

"What was that?" Rossi prompted you and you cleared your throat, repeating yourself.

"I think they could possibly be wearing the collars until they find a new couple, then replace the collar with the newest victim's."

The chief huffed.

"The footage isn't clear enough to pinpoint who's wearing them though."

All eyes were upon Hotch now, of whom stood with his left hand on his hip, deep in thought. He glanced at Rossi.

"We'll have to go in." He said after a moment.

"As in...?" JJ trailed off. Your eyes widened. Hotch nodded and his eyes flicked from face to face.

"Yes. Two of us will need to bait the unsub out." He clarified.

Oh boy.

"Well Morgan and I wouldn't be able to go back there given that we would be instantly recognised as federal agents." Emily said and you hummed in agreement. Hotch's brow furrowed moreso than ever before sighing.

"I have not been in there, so I'll go."

Your eyes flicked to JJ, who stared back and slightly shook her head. Without breaking eye contact with you she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm not so sure about doing this."

You winced. Emily elbowed you subtly, making you tense up. You felt eyes on you and your breath hitched when your own met brown ones. Hotch gazed down at you. Oh no.

"(L/n)?"

Fuck. This was a bad idea. You drew in a shaky breath and nodded.

"I guess we have no other options." You said finally. Something shifted in his face, a very subtle expression you couldn't read, before it was gone and his attention returned to the whole group.

"It's settled then. This unsub will follow us to wherever we are headed to once we have their attention," He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts. "With that in mind we should book a room in a different hotel if there aren't any new rooms available in the one we're in currently."

Your heart was pounding now, and you knew Emily could feel just how tense you were.

"We'll help (Y/n) with finding an appropriate outfit for tonight." She said. Hotch eyed her and nodded, pressing his phone to his ear.

"Garcia, I need you to..."

Your thoughts drowned out his voice, circling in your mind as you realised just what your undercover mission entailed. Pretending to be a dominant and submissive couple with the man you harboured strong feelings for? Absolutely awful. A truly terrible idea. And the fact that the couples were all found murdered mid-coital--

A hand appeared in front of your face and you blinked, slowly focussing on who was stood in front of you. Emily fought back a grin as you took her hand and you realised you'd been staring at Hotch, of whom was behind Emily eyeing you. With cheeks warming, you returned your attention to the woman in front of you and took her hand. She hummed.

"Lost in thought, hmm?" She asked casually.

"Shut up."

"Aww, don't be like that. We have to go find you an outfit now anyway."

She pulled you out of the office, JJ tagging alongside you and you turned your head back, meeting eyes with Hotch one last time. You were absolutely fucked.

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Oh, you were absolutely going to kill Emily Prentiss for this. You'd managed to purchase a velvety little burgundy number that was more form fitting than what you were used to, some heels to match and even a black collar that had the words 'GOOD GIRL' adorning it in silver metal letters. Not only that, you'd treated yourself to a lovely red lingerie set to boost your confidence. But that wasn't the problem. The woman had insisted on visiting the back of the lingerie store to purchase one more item, an item that you had refused to buy until Emily simply took it to the clerk herself.

You huffed quietly as you walked alongside Hotch down the corridor in a different hotel that Garcia had booked for you both tonight. You weren't wearing the clothes you picked out for the club, instead wearing a black pencil skirt and the shirt you had been wearing earlier, tucked into the skirt. It was again, Emily's idea for you to wear a pair of heels for this as well. The sound of the suitcase wheels rumbled softly on the carpeted flooring and in your hands the room key-card warmed to your body temperature.

"Are you okay?" You heard Hotch say as you came to a stop outside your hotel room door. Not trusting yourself to look at him you simply nodded.

"Yeah. Are you?" You asked weakly and it was his turn to huff out a breath.

"Fine."

You flicked the card against the pad and pushed the handle down to enter the room. Garcia had, admittedly, found a double bed in a higher end hotel near the club but you certainly were not expecting this.

The room was huge. The hallway had an expensive oak wood table laid out against one wall with a vase of flowers on top. The walls were a pristine white and the decorating retained a theme of red accents, from the artwork on the walls to the duvet and pillows on the bed. Oh right, the bed...

A luxuriously large double bed stood in the centre of the room adorned with expensive sheets and pillows. You had to admit, it did look like a very comfy bed. You kicked off your heels and padded through to the main area of the room and perched on the side of it.

"If anything, Garcia certainly knows how to get us a good deal." You said light-heartedly and Hotch hummed, carrying the suitcase over to the bed and laying it down on its side. Your eyes drifted around the room still, slightly in awe of it all. It was incredible enough to almost have you forgetting the reason you were actually there.

"Let's read over the profile and notes one more time before we get ready to head out." Hotch murmured as he pulled the zipper on the case to open it. "We should also discuss what our dynamic is meant to..."

You blinked and turned your head in his direction. He was tense, brows pulled together. In hand was the casefile but his attention wasn't on it.

"What's wro...ng?" Your eyes drifted down to the suitcase and in an instant you knew the problem. Nestled on top of your clothing was a pastel pink vibrator and a matching remote. Fuck.

"Why is this in here?" Hotch asked slowly. Your eyes trailed back up to him. His gaze was dark, intense. A shiver shuddered through you.

"I.... It wasn't meant to be." You dipped your head and your cheeks felt hot, a coil forming in your lower abdomen. "Emily, uh, she bought it to apparently help with getting into character. I'd say she was joking but I never know with that woman." You trailed off and fiddled with the fabric of your skirt.

"I see..."

You lifted your head up and drew in a shaky breath when you realised he was still staring at you.

"I think she must have snuck it back into the suitcase because I left it in my room. Sorry about that."

Hotch studied you for a while, clearly debating something in his head with the way his eyes narrowed slightly. It made you uncomfortable, shifting under his gaze and after a moment you grabbed the device and made a move to shove it into the bottom of the case.

"Let's just forget about it, I'm SO gonna have a go at her for this." You rambled, that is until a warm, large hand came to grab both of your smaller hands, and ultimately made you pause. What the...

"Maybe... I mean, if you were comfortable, we could use it- as in you hide it under your dress and I'll have the remote- so it draws more attention our way." Hotch said and now it was your turn to stare. Holy shit, he wanted to actually use it?! You swallowed thickly and nodded.

"S-sure. Uh, I'll pin it to the side of my thigh with my pantyhose."

Hotch moved his hand away and you and this allowed you to grab your clothing for tonight. You pushed off the bed rapidly and made a beeline for the bathroom.

"Gonna get changed." You mumbled quickly and closed the door behind you. Fuck. Sitting down on the lid of the toilet after placing your clothes on the bathroom counter you rubbed your thighs together, attempting to ease the throb between your legs. This whole situation was a bad idea. The fact that you'd have to pretend to be a couple with him of all people whilst battling the complicated feelings you had going on troubled you. You hadn't forgotten what he told Rossi the other night, the ache in your chest lingering still. How would you return to normality after this? To pretend your feelings for him didn't exist, that you wished this wasn't just for an undercover job.

Both upset and horny now, you huffed and stripped off so you could change into the new lingerie and dress. Your eyes glanced at the mirror whilst you pulled the set on and you had to admit, you looked incredible. And when you finished pulling the dress into position you stepped back and gazed at your reflection your eyes widened.

The fabric hugged closely to your body, your hips curved with delicate drapes of fabric that spanned across your plump stomach deliciously. The queen anne neckline concealed your bra but the openness displayed the tantalising plain of your chest. You felt good, really good. With a smile, you grabbed your discarded clothing and exited the bathroom, only to stop short at the sight of Hotch's bare back as he pulled on a black dress shirt. He glanced back at you in surprise, not turning to face you though. You stammered and averted your eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were changing."

Hotch hummed, fastening the buttons of the shirt whilst you passed him to place your folded clothes back into the suitcase.

"It's alright, no harm done." He responded quietly and at the corner of your eye you could tell he was watching you as he tucked the shirt into his dress pants. You lifted your gaze to him properly and you frowned a little. He noticed and raised a brow. "What's wrong?"

You approached him and lifted your hands to the top few buttons, unfastening them to show off more of his neck and collarbones.

"That looks better I think." You mumbled. When your eyes flitted to his face you trembled, stepping away quickly whilst your cheeks flushed. He was smirking ever so subtly at you.

"Oh? Well I'll take your word for it."

You nodded and grabbed the heels that matched your dress and sat down on the bed so you could put them on. Irritatingly, the bed was quite tall and made fastening the shoes difficult. During your struggle you didn't realise the man before you had knelt down until his hands came into view, one grasping your ankle gently whilst the other took the shoe from your hand. Your head shot up and you let out a squeak when you realised how close to his face you were whilst slouched over. That little smirk was still there.

"Let me help you." He insisted softly, voice deep and breath fanning across your cheeks, only emphasizing just how close your faces were to one another. You straightened up and bashfully looked away from him. The sight of him kneeling in front of you like this had your thoughts spiraling, imagining him grasping both your ankles and spreading your legs and leaning his face closer and closer to your throbbing slit-

You cleared your throat, feeling perverted, and internally scolded yourself for thinking about such things, especially with him so close to you right now.

"O-okay. Thank you, sir."

He hummed again and made swift but gentle work of fastening your shoes on, his large hands skillful as though he had done this many times in the past for his ex-wife. You tried not to think too much about that though.

Once ready, you hopped off the bed and grabbed the vibrator. You puffed out a breath.

"I'll, uhm, pin this to my thigh now." You said and turned away from him so you could shove your hand down your pantyhose and slide the toy into the correct spot on your leg. When you pulled the skirt of the dress back down you were satisfied that it was undetectable. Spinning, you held your arms out to present yourself. "Well? Do you think this is okay?"

Hotch studied you with dark eyes, trailing up and down your figure slowly.

"Beautiful," He said finally and stepped towards you. "However, you forgot this-"

In his hand was the collar you'd picked out. Your eyes widened a little as you reached for it.

"Oh, yeah I did. Thanks, I'll-"

Hotch pulled his hand out of reach, surprising you. His eyes bored down into yours as you frowned at him.

"Let me."

"Oh." You trembled a little as he turned you to face away from him and carefully, he fastened the collar around your neck, fingers brushing against your skin slightly and causing a shiver to dance down your spine. His hands lingered a moment longer, then he took a step back.

"There you go."

You turned to face him again and his eyes lingered on the new piece of jewelry. You swallowed thickly.

"Thanks. Uhm, let's read the file and then we can go." You said and Hotch hummed.

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Everything would be okay, you thought to yourself. But realistically, you felt almost sick with nerves. You never did undercover work, let alone something as confronting and intimate as this. Hotch walked alongside you in the warm, slightly clammy night towards the sex club, his hand on the small of your back. Initially, when he rested his hand there you'd jolted, making him pull his hand back and apologise. You'd shyly let him know it was okay, you just hadn't expected it. Your heels clacked on the sidewalk, the only noise besides the passing of cars or other people dotted around. You felt Hotch's thumb gently rub against your back, causing your cheeks to feel flushed.

"Just follow my lead." He murmured into your ear. You shuddered as his breath fanned against your neck and you knew he felt it from the more firm grasp of his hand on your back.

Eventually, you both came to a stop in front of the unassuming door which led down to the club. Glancing at one another, you nodded once and assumed the act of an overly affectionate couple for when you pressed the buzzer to be allowed inside. You wrapped your arm around Hotch's waist, feeling his torso tense underneath you as he pulled you closer towards him. The action made you automatically lay your hand against his chest to balance yourself and you could feel the warmth of his body, the strumming of his heartbeat.

A short moment later you were walking down the staircase that separated the outdoors from the club. Loud, pulsing music played through unseen speakers and immediately the two of you were greeted by the sight of scantily dressed women and men, eyeing you both as you crossed the room to the front desk. You were very uncomfortable. Hotch took charge talking to the woman at the desk whilst your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the environment. Your attention was drawn back to Hotch and the woman when his arm tightened around you and his hand squeezed your hip.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's have a look around." Hotch murmured and you jolted. He called you sweetheart. You bit your lip and hummed, letting him lead you away from the entrance. You found a crescent-shaped booth in the middle of the main lounge to settle in for a moment and you snuggled closely up to him, inhaling his scent. His hand was around you, resting on your lower back again and stroking you with his fingertips. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, you bit back a noise as you tried to calm yourself down.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to kiss you and get handsy with you?" He asked again, despite having discussed yours and his boundaries back at the hotel. You nodded and swung your leg over his hips, pushing yourself up so you could gaze at his face. He was watching you through lidded eyes and his hands came to grip your hips. You felt hot, needy.

"Of course I am. What should I call you though?" You murmured back, eyes flicking between his lips and the rest of his face. He raised a brow.

"Whatever you want to, sweetheart."

You shuddered again and hummed.

"Okay, daddy."

Something flared in his eyes and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap properly, straddling him with your hands bracing yourself up on his shoulders. Your eyes flew open wide and you gasped, he held back a smirk. You pouted.

"A little warning next time."

His hands squeezed again.

"Sorry. Are you alright?" He asked quietly. You nodded and craned your neck, peeking over the top of the booth and scanning the area, trying to spot anyone of note. You felt a hot breath against the valley between your breasts and you gasped out, hands gripping tighter on Hotch's shoulders. You slid back down to straddle one of his thighs and blushed, avoiding his gaze.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't think I would be all up in your face like that! I was just trying to look over the top of the booth." You fumbled out quickly and Hotch's hands tightened, moving slightly just shy of your ass.

"It's fine." You heard him say, but it sounded strained. "Do you see anyone suspicious?"

"No, not yet. Maybe we should get refreshments so we have the chance to interact with people more."

"Yes. I'll wave over someone." He murmured. A moment later, a woman wearing a black lingerie set and heels approached your booth and swayed her hips, smiling seductively at the two of you.

"What can I do for you two tonight?" She asked, eyeing you from head to toe. You tensed a little, not enjoying the staring. Hotch stroked your hips, holding you closer to him.

"Two cokes, please." He responded. The woman sauntered off towards the bar with one more scrutinizing glance over and you slumped a little.

"I can't wait until we get out of here." You grumbled. All of a sudden, the hands on your hips were grabbing your ass cheeks tightly, making you squeak. "H-Hotc-!"

The man below you pressed his lips to yours roughly and you felt your body short-circuit, utterly stunned by him. You kissed back, a whine lingering in your throat which escaped when Hotch pulled away from the kiss. He looked stern.

"What did you call me?"

You whimpered.

"I- I called you Hotch, instead of daddy."

He hummed and smoothed his hands over your rump, encouraging you to roll your hips.

"I hope that wasn't too far, I think I just spotted our unsub though and wanted to solidify their attention on us." He murmured gently. You drew in a shuddering breath.

"N-no it was okay. Very believable I think." You managed to choke out. Reality set back in again for you. This wasn't a fun little night out with your boss, finally getting the touches and kisses you craved, you were there to do your job. You felt tense again and very embarrassed that you'd been caught up in the moment, wishfully thinking of it all being real with your boss. Hotch's brows scrunched together as he felt a shift in your mood.

"(Y/n).. I-"

"-Two cokes for the very cosy couple." You heard from behind you and you jolted, turning your body to see who it was. Your eyes widened.

A slender woman with straight, dyed red hair was standing at the edge of the booth holding two glasses of the fizzy drink. She too was wearing a black lingerie set and heels but that wasn't what your eyes were focused on. Around her neck was a pink leather collar with the phrase "DADDY'S KITTEN" on it. The collar had belonged to the latest female victim. Your eyes drifted back up to her face quickly and you smiled at her.

"Oh, thank you!" You chirped at her in a cutesy voice. She smirked and placed the two glasses down, condensation already rolling down onto the table.

"You two seem to be having a lot of fun."

You felt your cheeks warm and Hotch adjusted you to sit facing away from him, his hands on your expansive thighs. His stomach was tense against your back, a clear sign of him being on high alert.

"Mmm, we don't get to spend much time together. I have to travel to my little girl, you see." He said, then pressed his lips to your neck to kiss it. The sensation of his lips on your sensitive neck made you shudder and grip onto the fabric of his trousers, not even remotely acting. The woman in front of you stared.

"Oh?"

You nodded and pouted.

"I'm studying here but we're going back to our hotel though 'cuz I struggle staying quiet enough in my dorm."

Hotch chuckled and ran his hands up and down your thighs, fingers dipping between them slightly and causing you to whimper. The corner of the woman's mouth twitched.

"Mhm, you looking for a threesome tonight, huh?"

"Actually, I'm trying to teach her to control herself and behave." Hotch answered before you could even open your mouth. And then you felt it, the vibrator stirred to life and began to vibrate violently against your thigh, startling you. You gasped out, hips automatically rolling forward and grinding down on Hotch's lap. The woman in front of you eyed you up and down, realising what she thought was happening and smirked. An unseen woman called for her attention and she stepped back.

"Well, if you need any help with that just let me know."

She turned on her heel and walked away, your eyes following her until she was out of sight. You returned to facing Hotch, pouting.

"That scared the fuck out of me!" You hissed. His eyes glinted mysteriously in the dim lighting, the vibrator continued to buzz against you.

"At least we know who our unsub is. And we got a first name: Tanya."

You nodded slightly.

"We should finish up here then and make a move."

Reluctantly, you climbed off his lap and eyed the drinks on the table. You didn't exactly trust consuming anything the possible unsub had brought out to you. Hotch took hold of your hand.

"Leave them. We need to go." He said and you nodded, letting him pull you out of the booth. He held you close to his body, gazing down at you and leaning close to you. "I'm going to kiss you again and grab your ass before we leave. Is that okay?"

You wanted to laugh at how formal he sounded but held back, instead nodding and gripping onto his shirt.

"Yes, sir."

He pulled you tighter against him and pressed his lips to yours, growling lowly as his hands grabbed handfuls of your ass again. You squeaked, arms throwing over his shoulders and hanging on tight to him. You never wanted this to end, craving his touch over and over and over...

Your lips departed when he pulled away, a smacking noise causing you to shudder a little. His hands smoothed up your body to rest at your lower back and you shifted uncomfortably.

"The vibrator- could you turn it off?"

He blinked at you, then fumbled one of his hands in his pocket.

"Right, yeah. Sorry."

The vibrator stilled and you exhaled, resting your head against his chest. His heart was pounding, chest rising and falling deeply with every breath. God, you were desperate for him to fuck you at this point. Scrunching your eyes closed for a second, you exhaled and pulled away from him to take hold of his hand.

"Let's go." You said softly. You felt eyes on you as Hotch guided you back out of the club and for a mere moment you dared glance around. The unsub was watching you through a fierce glare, eyes following as you walked away. Gotcha, you thought.

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The walk back to the hotel was brisk, still holding onto one another just in case the unsub had already begun following you. Discreetly, Hotch sent a message to Derek to indicate you were both heading back to the hotel and to monitor the security cameras for the unsub, typing out a brief description as well. You were nervous. Nervous about what the unsub would do, but even more so nervous about what you were about to do next.

Once you were back in your hotel room you quickly kicked your heels off and exhaled, gracious that they were finally off your feet.

"I don't know why people wear these things, they fucking hurt." You complained quietly. Hotch watched you for a moment, then pulled his phone out again to call one of the others.

"Give me the word when they head into the hotel." You vaguely heard him talking as you eyed yourself in the large mirror situated on the wall on the right side of the bed. None of your colleagues had seen you dressed in anything less than your current outfit, you never even thought your boss would be the one you'd be undressing for in a moment's time. You bit your lip, hand subconsciously moving to rest against your plump stomach. You shouldn't care what he would think, this was for a job. It wasn't as though you'd ever become a couple from this. And yet...

"Are you alright?" Hotch murmured softly from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. You hadn't realised he'd moved to stand behind you, his brows pulled together and his mouth tugging downward. You dropped your hand immediately and smiled.

"Yes of course. I guess we're playing the waiting game now, huh?"

He didn't smile back, appearing more concerned instead.

"We are, yes. Morgan will give us the signal. Which would mean..." He trailed off. You dropped your gaze, feeling hot and a slightly upset.

"Yeah.. uhm, what should we do?"

"Well, we would have to look as though we were about to engage in intercourse."

Hotch raised a brow when a bubble of laughter escaped you, making your cheeks flush. You covered your mouth, trying to calm yourself down enough to explain yourself.

"Sorry, you're just so formal when discussing something like this. I didn't mean to laugh." You said, revelling in the faint smile that slowly formed on his face. He placed a hand on your arm and turned you to face him. Your eyes widened, heart rate increasing as you gazed up at him in surprise. He thought for a moment, then spoke.

"I was wondering, when this case is finished, if you-"

The shrill of Hotch's ringtone cut him off and the two of you sighed, pulling from one another. He answered. You knew it was time to get ready for the next phase of the job, there was no room for anymore hesitation. When Hotch ended the call and pocketed his phone you were gripping onto the skirt of your dress tightly, trembling a little. You avoided his gaze.

"I'm gonna...uhm, take my dress off now." You warned him gently. And then you slipped the dress up over your head and discarded it on the ground near the bed. You heard a sharp intake of air and cringed, expecting the worst. "You should, uh, keep your shirt on. Just undo a few more buttons. The dominant in the relationship usually is more dressed than the submissive during sex."

"You seem knowledgeable on the subject." Hotch murmured, making your ears feel hot. You quickly pulled the vibrator out from inside your pantyhose and huffed.

"Shut up."

There was a pause, then Hotch was dragging you by the arm firmly but gently and pushing you down on the bed, manhandling you until you were laying amongst the now scattered pillows. You'd let out a yelp and a shout of his usual nickname until you found yourself being straddled by him, your chest heaving and your mouth slightly agape. Hotch sneered down at you, pinning your wrists either side of your head.

"What did you just say to me?" He asked dangerously calmly. You gulped.

"U-uhm.."

He tutted, leaning down to graze his nose along your neck, inhaling.

"Do at least one thing right for me; be loud, let everyone know who you belong to. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

You trembled, legs falling open a little.

"H-Hotch?"

With a quiet rumble in his chest, he began to suck harshly on your neck, avoiding the collar, and making you cry out.

"Wrong name." He muttered against your skin. Oh... You were unable to think straight, mind feeling mushy and your body tingling and throbbing all for him. The last thing you cared about was the unsub, the man sucking on your skin taking over your entire being. You pushed your chest up against his and whined loudly.

"S-sir, please!"

Hotch growled, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss whilst his hips pinned yours down, his crotch against yours. You spread your legs wider, wanting him closer to you. His lips detached from yours, a trail of saliva connecting you both for a mere moment, but he wasn't finished. He moved slowly downwards, kissing and sucking your neck again, then your collarbones. Your back arched and you moaned as he sucked a hickey on your left breast, his hands moving from your wrists to your thighs. You could feel him smirking against your skin.

"Such a good girl, let out all those noises. Daddy wants to hear them whilst he marks you up. Gotta make it look like we were up to something, haven't we?." He cooed, spreading your legs wider and grinding against you. You bit your lip as you whimpered; you could have sworn you felt something hard and thick pressing into your clothed pussy.

And then the door burst open.

"Don't fucking move!" A familiar voice snapped, causing you and Hotch to flinch and turn your attention to the doorway.

"W-what-" Hotch played up a stutter. You'd been right, it was the woman who had given you your drinks. She glared at you both as she slammed the door shut behind her, you noted she hadn't locked it, seemingly because she had broken the lock to get into the room as she had done with all the other victims. In her hand was a long kitchen knife, glinting in the room light.

"Shut the fuck up." She stepped closer, pointing the blade towards you. "You disgusting freaks, playing around with such a horrible dynamic! Do you even understand what such relationships do to people?!"

Hotch moved slightly, shielding you from the unsub. It was like whiplash, one moment you were losing yourself to the pleasure of him and the next you were face to face with the murderer under the guise of her having the upper hand. Your eyes drifted slightly, eyeing Hotch for a brief moment, then returning your gaze to the unsub before she noticed.

"Ma'am, I understand that you may not like the lifestyle but why do you think you should kill us for it?" Hotch said calmly, hands raised to show he meant no harm to her. She sneered.

"All you people are the same. Prepared to have a horrible imbalanced relationship but so pathetic when that's threatened." She stepped closer, the handle of the knife trembling slightly with the tight grip she had on it. It wouldn't be long before Derek and the others appeared, but she was getting too close to you and Hotch. Without hesitating a second longer, you lunged towards the man still encasing you below him and grabbed the gun he always had strapped to his ankle, pushing back the safety on it and pointing it at the unsub. Her eyes widened, you stared her down.

"Tanya, put the knife down. We're with the FBI. We know what you've done." You said unwaveringly, forgetting your state of undress as you sat up straighter and faced her. She opened her mouth a few times, unable to think of what to say.

"B-but- you both- you were going to fuck! You seemed so much like a real couple!"

You ignored the sting in your chest, instead lightly pushing Hotch backwards with your shoulder so you could stand up.

"You were good, Tanya. We couldn't quite figure out who it was murdering all those couples. We had to resort to going undercover." You stepped closer, gun still trained on her. "It's over though. Put that knife down."

Hesitation flashed across Tanya's face for a moment, her hands shaking more erratically the longer she stood there. Absently, you sensed Hotch standing behind you and felt proud of yourself when you didn't flinch. Before any of you could make another move the hotel door swung open and the room was flooded with people, Derek leading the way.

"FBI! Put your weapon down now and put your hands up where we can see them!" He yelled. Tanya jolted, dropping the blade as she spun on her heel in utter panic. It was over. You barely registered the arrest being made, instead making quick work of putting the safety back on the gun, placing it on the bed and pulling the dress back over your head so you didn't feel so exposed anymore. You needed to get out of the room, needed fresh air to clear your head. Before anyone could speak to you you were gone, slipping your feet into the heels again and struggling with the buckles, then rushing out of the room.

"Hey! (L/n)! Where are you going!?" You heard Emily shout but you didn't stop, not until you reached the outdoors.

Back in the hotel room Rossi casually approached Hotch, who was staring after your abrupt exit with a deep-set frown.

"What was that about?" Rossi asked, feigning disinterest.

"I don't know. I need to go after her."

Before the taller of the two men could run after you, Rossi grabbed his arm and raised a brow.

"I would wait a bit. Unlike the female body, it's much easier to tell when the male body is in the mood."

Hotch froze, breath caught in his throat. He tried clearing it as he turned away from his longtime friend.

"Excuse me." He muttered.

Back outside, you ran your hands over your scalp, heart racing still and an array of emotions spiralling within you.

"(L/n)!" Emily shouted, having caught up with you. Her eyes widened when she came to stand in front of you, eyes fixated on your neck and chest. "Oh wow, he really did a number on you, huh?"

You flushed, scowling at her and folding your arms.

"Shut it! Leave it alone." You snapped but she didn't back down, grinning widely at you.

"I bet that felt really nice, huh? You look absolutely frazzled."

"-There you are. Looking frazzled, are we?" Derek said as he exited the hotel lobby. You wished you had a jacket right about now. He chuckled when his eyes found the hickeys decorating your skin. "Damn! Didn't know boss-man had it in him!"

You scowled at the two of them as you hugged your arms closer around yourself.

"We did what we had to do for the job. Now leave it be."

"Come on now, I bet it was a dream come true for you, right?" The dark-skinned man pressed. Shame consumed you as your gaze dropped.

"Not his though." You said quietly.

"-I wouldn't say so."

The three of you turned to find Rossi approaching you, a mischievous glint in his gaze. Your eyes narrowed a little.

"What?"

The old man shrugged, hands in his pockets.

"Let's just say he's not here right now for a reason." Was all he said. Emily snorted at the same time as Derek hollering. And yet it did nothing to help you, your thoughts having already set themselves in your mind.

"It's probably involuntary. We were in a sex club and such for a while so.."

"Come on now, you know it's because of you." Emily retorted, but you were not convinced in the slightest.

"Let's just- we need to go back to the station to do the interrogation. The sooner we get that done the sooner I can get these damn shoes off."

You turned to find one of the FBI cars and began to walk towards it. You ignored the calls of your name, waiting desperately for one of the others to give in and drive back to the station with you. In the end, Rossi unlocked the vehicle and once again he drove you away to your salvation.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

Thank you all for reading!! This one I kept getting carried away 😭 idk if it's that good but I hope you all enjoyed regardless! I wonder what will happen in the final part 😳😳

Taglist: @cr1minalskies @modern-mermaid @aaronhotchnersgirlfriend @aaronhotchswife @emptybagofchips77 @crimeshowjunkie @igotanidea @gogococopuffs @prentissesredtanktop @louderfortheback @howabouticallyou @lalalove-56 @abbyschmaby @constantwritingblock @boredelle @powerlvr25 @aad1993 @idkbubs (not sure why some don't work 😭)

#a writes #a's writing #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotch x reader #smut #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #plus size!reader #plus size reader

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Note

I am obsessed with how you write for one piece characters (especially angst-fluff XD) I was wondering if I could request a Sanji x male!reader where they both barely got together yet sanji still fawns over nami and robin which causes reader to start feeling insecure, then later in private reader asks sanji if he’d love him more if he was a girl instead. Angst to fluff/comfort pls:))

Btw idk if you have any rules so sorry if this goes against them! Feel free to ignore/delete this!<3

Please and thank you :)

So love this idea! I'm splitting it into two however! So don't worry this will have a happy ending I promise!

Curiosity pt. 1

Sadness

Sanji x MaleReader

Support me on Ko-Fi! Enjoy!!

P.s the sanji quote I used was actually in the Japanese sub so don't @ me

You sat there as silent as stone eating your meal as the chaos and laughter of the ship sounded around you. Nami angrily yelling, Zoro drinking, Luffy yelling for more food while eating, Usopp spinning another story and your boyfriend fawning over Nami's tits openly- In most cases you would have been embarrassed but at this point... the disappointment was expected.

You'd only been together for a few months, starting out as flirting with each other- Him approaching you since he had felt conflicted in his attractions and you guided him through the maze of identity and attractions. Finding him in your arms and in your heart-

Sanji later admitting you were the first guy he has ever liked and the first person he dated. You thought it was sweet- a romance unfolding that you two would one day tell the world... but that didn't seem like the case anymore.

"Nami~ Can I see your panties! Wait let me get a camera!" Sanji laughed loidly as you could see the love in his eyes as Nami looked red in the face and angry.

"You're vile" Zoro hissed at the laughing Sanji, his nose bleeding as Nami gave him another hard punch to his head knocking him to the floor.

Zoro had been getting more aggressive against Sanji- mainly due to the fact he find his acts disrespectful towards you.

Lowering your gaze at this you took another sip of the mixed rum drink your boyfriend had served. However the sweet cocktail tasting bitter on your tongue now- not bothering to announce you were dismissing yourself from the joyous dinner.

Zoro gave you a sympathetic nod, watching you silently stand as you gave him a tight lipped small smile in return and left.

Stepping out you take a heavy sigh- Trying to keep the tears from falling and Biting your lip to swallow the pain once more.

That ache in your heart had faded letting a numbness settle instead. Taking a seat on the main deck you stare up at the sky, watching the stars above you as the fading sounds of laughter echoed behind you.

Sitting out looking over the open ocean you thought- Thinking about the pain and embarrassment that Sanji had brought you. He had been the one to approach you, asking you out on a night like this. Thinking of how he held you close and whispered that you were his one and only. Yet you felt like those moments were now just empty words- Maybe they had always been that way even after such a short amount of time....

"(Y/N)! What are you doing out here?" You heard a all too familiar voice call out, seeing a cherry checked Sanji smile brightly at you. His smile did freeze slightly at seeing the rather stoic look on your faze, his brow raising.

"Is something wrong?" He questioned, stepping closer in worry.

"No" You say calmly, looking back out on the water. Knowing you would kill the mood of you brought up how you felt- however it seemed you couldn't have your way... He sat next to you nudging his shoulder against yours.

"Come on- I know my boyfriend well enough to see you're sad" He said sincerely. You didn't meet his gaze however, sighing in defeat instead.

"Would you have preferred it if I was a girl?"

Sanji's eyes widened at this, confusion and shock going over his features.

"What kind of question is that?- Of course I"

"You still fawn over Nami and the others.. stare at their chest and droll over their figure.." You say softly, touching the thin fabric that covered your lack of breast.

The blondes face falling as he realized what he had been doing to you-

"(Y/N) dont be ma-" He started but cut him off again.

"I'm not mad at you... I'm not going to scream at you or yell if that's what you're expecting.. I'm just telling you my reasonings" You explain and you could practically feel the dread rolling off him.

"Reasonings?"

You nod softly at this, not having the heart to elaborate further on that. You see the flash of panic.

"I don't want to ruin the night Sanji so I didn't want to have this conversation now"

"We are having it now- I don't want you to go.. I care for you" You heard the careful side stepping of his words, avoiding love or like with 'care' it made your chest ache all over again.

"Like how you care about my feelings?... It's okay to say you were just.. experimenting-" You say and he grabs your shoulders suddently so you were facing him, a flash of anger in his eyes as he stared at you, the sharp rum from his breath burning your nose.

"You aren't a experiment to me okay? It's not like that? I just- It's hard to explain okay?" He tried to reason as he released your shoulders and reached forward grabbing your hand to try to reassure you. But you pulled away calmly.

"Do you still like Nami?.." You finally ask and watch his face twisted up as he tried to answer.. but couldnt-

You close your eyes, almost greatful he didn't answer. Not knowing if his excuse would hurt you more then his actions, standing up from your seat you smooth out the invisible Imperfections in your trousers.

"It's okay Sanji... I can understand if I was a curiosity for you. Thank you for the meal, I'm going to bed. Goodnight" You say calmly and head below to get some sleep- you still heard the laughter from the kitchens as you faded into the belly of the ship to hopefully hide your tears.

Sanji sat there, dazed over what just happened. Pulling out a cigarette from his pockets however he just silently started at the stick of tobacco, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders as guilt tore through his chest. Closing his eyes tightly like he was force away the shame he felt.

"Shit.."

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #op sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x male reader #x male reader #x male y/n

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those-late-night-feels · 7 months

Text

Take Care of You

Summary: Steve Rogers seems to take care of everyone. But who takes care of him?

Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader; a little Loki x reader (because I can’t help it)

Warnings: smut; angst; drinking

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Actually, it's interesting…"

In all honesty, the contents of your wine glass was the most interesting thing at the table. Between the appetizer and main course, it has become apparent that this date had been a mistake. The downtown restaurant was quite popular and loud, easy to drown out the one-sided conversation from across the table about whatever was incredibly interesting. Had he even asked a question all night?

Smiling your way through dinner and dessert, he rambled on until the bill was paid and you could finally slip on your coat to leave.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," you said at the main entrance of the restaurant.

"Let me take you home." It was a statement more than a suggestion. Protesting was futile as his car pulled up from the valet and, with a sigh, you gave in.

"Thank you, again," you said as he parked his car and started to walk you towards the Towers, not taking the hint.

"Let me get you safe inside," he offered, placing a hand on the small of your back. Cringing, you gently guided his hand away and turned to face him.

"Thank you," you said all the more sternly. "I can take it from here."

He frowned, as if he had something to say, and then his eyes darted behind you for a split second before saying a quick good night and leaving. You spun on your heel to find a shadowed figure emerging, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Steve.

You let out a breath, a little thankful, a little frustrated. Of course, one of the most emotionally unavailable bachelors in America would be your knight in shining armor. He walked up, looking between you and the man bee-lining it to his getaway vehicle. "Don't start, Rogers." You didn't need a lecture after the night you had.

His hands shot up in animated defense. "Only here if you need me."

He held the door open, waiting patiently as you strutted toward the entrance. Maybe he was emotionally unavailable, but he was still Captain America, and you'd be damned if the little dress you wore went to waste. You passed by him, imagining how confident and sexy you must appear when your heel caught on the door frame, tripping you forward. On instinct, Steve grabbed your hand and waist before you landed on your face. Adrenaline rushed through your veins for a moment, and when you turned your head, he was closer than expected. "You okay?"

"Guess I needed you after all," you laughed a little breathy, attempting to lighten the mood amidst him everywhere on you–his hands hovered on your hip and back, his chest pressed against yours, his face only inches away.

He smiled warmly, helping you upright. "Let's get you upstairs."

The glass elevator held a perfect view of the skyline, and you watched the planes above while waiting to reach the main loft. Leaning against the railing, you slipped off your heels, your feet finally rejoicing.

"Bad date?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"I don't think he even remembered my name." He chuckled quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets. The elevator doors opened and he walked in stride with you down the hall while you gave him the play-by-play highlights of your disaster of a date. He paused when you reached the front of your bedroom door.

“I dunno,” you said with a sigh. “Somehow I just continue to attract the self-absorbed assholes. Maybe that's just the type I'm meant to be with.”

He shook his head. “Don't think that. You deserve better.”

“You really think so?”

He gave you a look like it was obvious. “Come on, you're too good of a girl to end up with someone like that.” His words made you smile, and they lingered in your mind long after you had said good night, making you wonder if anyone took care of the captain the way he took care of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Pancakes and coffee. That was all you could think about in the morning, and the aromas wafting from the kitchen brought some of the team to slowly trickle out.

"So, how was the date?" Natasha asked, pouring a large cup of coffee and settling in a seat near the kitchen island. You gave her a look. "That bad?"

You turned to flip pancakes and pour more batter on the skillet. "Let's just say I'm glad Steve was there to send him on his way without a word."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Steve, who shook his head like it was nothing, but she gave him an amused look.

When you turned back around with a fresh stack of pancakes, you were faced with hungry eyes. "Alright, you guys have to share!"

Taking your share of the prepared breakfast, you settled into a chair at the island.

"So, is that a no to any future blind dates?" Natasha asked.

"That's a definite no. But I will absolutely say yes to a date with you at that new club downtown."

"Alright, alright, we'll go. Steve, what do ya' say? Wanna join us and make it a threesome?" she asked, leaning up against him.

Flustered and choking on his coffee, he turned three shades of red and shook his head. "No no, you ladies have fun."

You and Natasha sighed in unison. "Suit yourself."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your night out with Natasha was magical. The club was classy and modern, the kind where you'd find paparazzi hiding out. Both men and women lined up to buy you and Natasha drinks, join the VIP lounge, and dance the night away.

By the early morning hours, you had stumbled back into the loft with Natasha, giggling and shushing one another way too loudly. Natasha went to the kitchen, making a racket of noise with glasses and cupboards while you laid down on the couch, feet aching from hours of dancing. A glass shattered on the floor, followed by Natasha cursing and a very tired and irritated Captain storming out of his room.

"Seriously Nat?"

"Sorry dad," she said, attempting to pick up bits of glass from the floor. Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Just stop, your gonna cut yourself. Go to bed, I'll take care of it."

She was stubborn, but he was firm, and soon she was scampering out of the kitchen and down the hall to her room. Steve sighed and you heard the sweeping of the broom, the metal grating of the dustpan.

When he shut off the kitchen light, you sat up from the couch. "You're good at that."

Steve turned and practically jumped, placing a hand on his heart. "Jeez, you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," you said meekly.

"Have you been drinking too?" He didn't sound upset or accusational. More amused.

Putting your index finger and thumb close together, you scrunched up your face in guilt, making him laugh. "Alright, come on."

He offered his hand out and you took it, faltering when you stood. "I see Nat forgot how much of a lightweight you are," he joked.

"Hey," you said and smacked him on the chest. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, looking down and holding you in his arms for a moment. You felt so small in his arms and swallowed the lump in your throat before breaking the silence. "You take care of everyone."

"Is that what I'm good at?"

You nodded.

"I guess I do," he said, and in one swift movement hooked his arm under your legs, causing you to squeal while he carried you down the hall.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint light of the moon. He laid you down on the bed and sat next to you. "Need anything before I go?"

You took hold of his hand and he looked down at the touch. "Steve… Does anyone ever take care of you?"

He considered the question. "The team takes care of me when it's needed."

You shook your head. "No." And then, heart pounding in your boldness, you sat up and climbed over to straddle him. Arms wrapped around his neck and his breath grew heavy. "Does anyone take care of you…like this?"

You leaned in slowly, in case he was uncomfortable, in case you were reading it wrong, but he allowed you to kiss him, and after a moment, his lips responded, his hands slow and steady guiding up your legs, your hips, your back. He whispered your name, a question, a desire, a need.

He pulled back to look at you, a little in shock, a little in lust. Like he wanted to be good, but he also wanted you. "You're… you've been drinking."

Your head tilted to the side. Should have known–always the chivalrous one. "Steve, I want you."

Kisses trailed down his neck and across his jaw line as you spoke.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered, pulling up the end of his T-shirt until he allowed you to pull it over his head. He was torn, hesitant. He didn't allow his desires to normally take precedence over honor. But, this time, he did. Hands ran over his thick chest, his hardened abs, to play with the little grooves on his hip bones. "Sit back," you ordered, and he obediently listened, watching with want and desire while your fingers hooked into his shorts and underwear, sliding them down in one go.

His cock sprang forth from its confines, already hard and pulsing and wet from precum, and your eyes went wide at how incredibly well-endowed he was. The ladies had all speculated at how big the super soldier actually was, but you'd never imagined…

You knew then how you wanted to take care of him. With a devilish smirk you crawled up, your tongue running along the underside of his cock, never breaking eye contact. A little moan escaped him, making you want to hear the range of all his noises. Your fingers stroked at his balls as you slowly guided your tongue along his shaft, causing his breath to shutter.

His fingers ran through your hair and when you lifted your head he brushed your cheek with his thumb.

"God, you are gorgeous," he whispered. You closed your eyes and then took him full in your mouth and down your throat. The response he gave was guttural, claiming your name when you took a breath, only to go down again. In that moment, you were in control and he was yours. His breaths became faster, his moans more frequent, and you knew he wouldn't last much longer. But that was perfectly fine; you were here to take care of him.

Your mouth became hot and full of him and was swallowed down like it was nothing. It took a moment for him to catch his breath and come back down from his high and he started to ramble, from embarrassment or being unsure of what to do. You shushed him gently, curled up next to him, and grabbed his hand to wrap his arm around you.

He laid there quietly, kissed your shoulder and fell asleep in your bed. But in the morning, he was gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You weren't surprised. Disappointed, sure. But not surprised. More than a dozen times you had reminded yourself that Steve Rogers was emotionally unavailable. But that didn't stop your drunk ass from what you did last night.

In the light of the morning, you were determined to not walk out of your room looking like some drunken whore. You'd be damned if you were someone he regretted. Extra time was taken to scrub yourself clean, brush your teeth twice, and make yourself not only presentable, but gorgeous.

Taking a breath, you walked out to the foyer. Natasha looked up from her cup of coffee, a tired smile on her face. "Sorry I bailed on you last night. I don't even remember what happened. Where did you go?"

You shook your head at her apology. "No, it's fine. I just passed out."

Natasha raised a curious eyebrow at you. "No midnight romping?"

You laughed, maybe a little too loudly. "Nothing of the sort, I can assure you."

She hummed in response. "Morning Captain."

Your eyes went big for a slight moment as he passed behind, a scent of evergreen lingering behind. "Morning," he acknowledged evenly.

Pulse starting to race, you slipped into the kitchen before Natasha could question you further. Pouring a cup of coffee (the larger, the better after the night you had), Steve walked in casually.

"Morning agent," he said, grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.

"Hi," you said, stirring your coffee as if it was the most fascinating cup of coffee you'd ever laid eyes on.

"Sleep well?"

You raised your eyes up to meet his, a small smirk on your face. "Yes…" you said slowly. Was he playing a game with you?

Steve waited until he was sure Natasha was gone and out of earshot. Then, crossing his arms and studying the floor, he said, "Listen, I need to apologize for last night."

You blinked but kept silent, stirring your coffee and watching him. He was infuriating! Just wouldn't let you have that moment with him.

"I took advantage of the situation and should have stopped it before it went that far," he continued.

Your breaths were even through your nose, but internally you were screaming. As frustrated as you were, you knew there was no point in arguing. Once he had gotten something in his mind as fact, there was no convincing him otherwise.

Sighing, you made to leave the room. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Steve."

He grabbed your bicep as you passed by, making you pause in your tracks. "It can't happen again."

You looked from his grip on your arm to his piercing stare and bit to your lip to refrain from screaming at him.

"Got it," you choked out, and pulled away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was easier to just avoid him in the following weeks. If he hadn't made a thing of it, you could have gone back to being friendly and flirty. But he didn't make things easy

You chose the missions he wasn't on and made excuses for the ones he joined. But it was hard; you missed him, his kindness, his stories, his listening ear. He was your leader and you just felt…lost.

There was no use in regrets, but sometimes you'd wonder if you'd make a mistake and lost a friend.

It was a strangely quiet Saturday night for most of the team. After a few weeks of intense missions and undercover work, it was nice to finally have a break. The last thing you wanted was to go out to a bar or club and Natasha agreed. Giving you a look like she was up to no good, she pulled out a deck of cards and a bottle with a language you couldn't translate.

"What are you doing, Nat?" you asked with a warning tone.

"Making our own fun. We aren't a couple of spinsters. If we don't want to go out, doesn't mean we can't still have a little fun," she said with a wink.

You smiled while shaking your head. "You're the worst influence."

"No, I'm the best. Now round up whatever boys are still around."

You trailed down the hall and paused at Steve's door. Knocking, you prayed that he wouldn't answer, but the door opened before you could slip away.

"Hi," he said, crossing his arms. He appeared standoffish, but there was a kindness in his eyes.

"Hey, um, Nat is setting something up out there. Wanted everyone to join."

He raised an eyebrow. "What did she pull out from her bag of tricks this time?"

"Box of cards and a bottle of something."

"Blue label? Foreign writing?"

"Yeah." As silly as it was, you missed this–the normalcy, the casual chat, feeling comfortable with him again. There was a beat where you two locked eyes, getting lost for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something, a sorry, an I miss you, anything, but he beat you to the punch.

"I think I'm gonna stay in tonight, but… you should be careful with that bottle. Asgardian firewater isn't for the faint of heart."

He started to close the door. "Steve?"

He paused, but the words caught in your throat and you just stood there like an idiot.

"Have fun," he said, and hearing your name on his lips brought it all back. You wondered if he thought about it as much as you did.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He was right about the firewater. Natasha had poured you a shot and it burned like kerosene going down. You shuttered, turning the bottle to study its label. A hand reached out, clasping the shot glass and pulling it to the side. Your eyes followed the hand to the dark haired Asgardian prince who leaned toward you.

"Please do not tell me you drank this in a shot glass."

You smirked at him. "Blame Nat. I just do as I'm told."

Shaking his head at your naivety, Loki refrained from engaging on your comment further and slid the used shot glass to the sink, pulling a clean large glass from the cabinet.

"If you're going to drink this, you're at least going to learn how to make a proper Asgardian beverage out of it." He rolled up his sleeves, rummaging through the bar and pulling out an assortment of bottles and citrus fruit.

"You making me a drink or breakfast, Loki?"

He stood, pointing a paring knife at you. "Hush. Now come around here, you're making it yourself."

He taught you how to skin the rind off an orange without the pith, instructed you to juice a lime, showed you the measurements for the other spirits to add before pouring it over the liquor. He didn't touch you, but his close proximity somehow still made you feel warm.

"Stir it, slowly” he drawled. “The point of this isn't to rush and hit your high as fast as possible. Savor it, enjoy yourself."

He slid the glass toward you and watched as you took a sip, an eyebrow raised in a question. Your eyes widened as that first sip went down, not burning like fire, but sweet like honey. "It's good. Thank you Loki."

Satisfied, he leaned forward, palm landing on the back of your arm to whisper in your ear. "Now don't let me catch you with that shot glass again. You deserve more than just a quick fix."

You took a short breath in as you laughed nervously, something twisting deep inside. Was he…flirting with you? Your eyes darted to the side to see Steve talking to Tony, but watching you. He turned, patting Tony on the back before walking straight out the door, his jaw firmly set.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The night had been fun, playing an assortment of card games. Loki and Thor attempted to teach everyone a complicated version of Asgardian poker, which turned into peals of laughter. You wiped your eyes, both from laughing so hard and feeling exhausted, when Loki stood. "Thank you for a pleasant evening, but it is time for me to retire for the night."

You nodded and yawned on cue. "Me too. Goodnight guys."

Natasha shuffled the cards and dealt out a hand to the rest of the night owls, saying a quick good night.

You followed Loki the short distance down the hall to your separate bedrooms. "Sorry Loki, I think we're a little hopeless at learning your game."

"If my brother can master it, there is hope for you all yet. Plus," he paused, turning to you in front of your door, "it seemed like a welcome distraction for you."

You looked up at him, a little alarmed at his observation. Hadn't you been more discreet watching the front door for Steve? Apparently not.

"Oh, I…" you stuttered, but he shook his head and put a hand on your arm to reassure you.

"No need to be embarrassed, little one. I wasn't trying to pry. It was just nice to see you carefree and smiling again."

He was right, it was a nice change. You were tired of walking on eggshells and needed an attitude shift.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You couldn't sleep that night though, as tired as you were. Between Loki's flirty antics and Steve's frustrating behavior, your mind was swimming and needed to be cleared. After tossing and turning, the blankets were finally ripped off and gym clothes slipped on, deciding a quick workout would help.

Earpods turned on, you entered the gym and started up the treadmill. A mile in and sweat starting to drip, a resounding boom caused you to pull out your earbuds. Pausing on the edge of the treadmill, you pulled out an earbud to listen, a rhythmic pattern of beats down the hall. That was odd, you thought you'd be alone at this hour.

"Hello?" you called out, wiping the sweat from your forehead and chest and following the sound. You opened the door to an open studio used for combat practice and paused in the doorway. On the opposite side of the room, Steve focused on a punching bag, his back muscles rippling and contracting within a tight T-shirt. Standing mesmerized, you watched as he worked the bag until one final blow busted it off the hook and he went to grab a new one.

His eyes turned up and locked on yours, startling you out of your trance. "Sorry. I…" you fumbled at your words.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Came down here to clear my head."

"Yeah," he said, hooking the bag on with one arm. "I've been trying to do that for a while now."

"Well, I'll let you get back to it." You made your way toward the door. Halfway through the door frame, he said your name, staring at the bag, making you pause. "I haven't… I haven't been able to sleep for a while. I can't stop thinking about that night."

You almost didn't hear him, almost asked him to repeat himself. When he turned to look at you, you were like a deer caught in headlights. Too afraid to move or look away.

"I know that I shouldn't. And I tried to stop myself, tried to push you away and ignore you. My focus should be on the team and our missions. That's why I told you it couldn't happen again."

He unwrapped the boxing tape from his hands, walking toward you.

"But I can't get you out of my head. You're all I can think about."

You ignored the pounding of your heart and the tingling in your core. He was so close to you now, and you were furious. How dare he say all this after how he treated you! You wanted to slap him, yell at him, anything to show him how much pain and frustration he had caused you. But then, his next words cut to your core: "I'm so sorry. I miss you."

His blue eyes searched your own, no doubt looking for a sign that you would forgive him. He hesitantly raised a hand slowly up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, melting your resolve and angry exterior with the swipe of his hand. Who were you kidding? You missed him too.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun was creeping up along the horizon when your eyes opened. Your bed was warm and cozy and your arm clutched onto the arm wrapped around your body.

You turned slightly, Steve still asleep and breathing steadily. The man was probably exhausted from his lack of sleep the last few weeks. It didn't help that you both stayed up late the night before as well.

He had walked you back to your room after your encounter in the gym, stood outside your door to wish you good night like the gentleman he was trying to be. No, he was a gentleman, he reminded himself; only you had ignited something inside him that he was fighting hard to resist. You gripped onto the edge of his T-shirt and pulled him into the room with a coy smile that he reciprocated.

Neither knew what to do, and you didn't want him to feel like you were expecting him to reciprocate for the prior night together. After keeping your distance from him for weeks, you just knew that you wanted to be near him again.

"For the record, I missed you too Steve." You grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one across the room to him.

He downed half the bottle before recapping it. "I'm not very good at this. I've spent too long focused only on whatever the mission is and not anything else."

"This," you said, gesturing between the two of you, "can be whatever we want it to be. I just know that I want you back in my life. However you want that to be."

He nodded, taking in your words. Then stood and walked over to you leaning against the dresser. His blue eyes looked down to yours and you could feel your heart instantly picking up pace. He could probably hear what he was doing to you by the uptick of your pulse, but didn't let on. "However I want?"

You nodded, words lost to you. Even though you had had him once before, he still made your nerves twist. He leaned down and kissed you then, and it felt like you both let go of a breath that was held for far too long.

When he pulled away, you almost whined, wanting more.

"Let's start by taking care of you," he said, and gripped your ass to sit you on the dresser.

With easier access, he trailed kisses down your neck, body shivering in response. He pulled you into him and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Lifting you up, he carried you easily to your bed and gently set you down, hovering over you.

“What do you want?” he asked, and you knew that his question was meant for more than just pleasure.

You hooked your finger into the hem of his t-shirt, bringing his lips to yours. A girl could get used to those soft lip caresses. The warmth of his hand traveled underneath your shirt, up your ribcage to the curve of your breast, and you gasped as his fingertips circled your nipple. He pulled his lips back from yours to watch the expression on your face, and with a little hesitancy, you told him, “I want to be yours.”

It was like you had lighted a fire within him with your words, and he engulfed you in flames. Your leggings were removed, his lips trailing kisses lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, finding solace in your warm folds. His tongue was like a flint, unyielding until sparks flew. Without mercy, he gripped onto your thighs, making you rise higher and higher. You gripped onto his hair, moaning his name at a higher octave until you fell into bliss, and were cradled in his arms.

There was no telling what would become of you and him, but for the moment, you would take care of each other.

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p4rallel-universe · 1 year

Note

Can I request a fic where the reader walks into the Gallagher house, looking for Ian but instead hears soft panting and groans coming from upstairs. You ignore it until someone shouts your names, looking around to find out what's up reveals lip with his hand down his pants and back arched- whimpering your name until- oop, I'll let you decide how it ends;)

encounters

(Lip Gallagher x Male reader)

nsfw

walking down the street, your phone held to your ear, you hear the call go to voicemail once again. Ian must be busy - working, or fucking, who knows - because he's not picking up your calls. you really need to see him, to talk to him about some family stuff that's been seriously bothering you.

Ian's your best friend. your ride or die. you get along with his whole family. helping Fiona whenever you can, even Lip smokes with you once in a while despite being pretty busy these days.

thinking of your last option, you decide to stop by the Gallagher house. you still have a spare key from sometime Ian let you borrow one. unlocking the door, you enter nonchalantly. the Gallagher household is like a second home to you, so there's no real boundaries for when you arrive. you kind of just...come and go.

"Ian?", you call out, to no answer. no sign of him, in fact, the whole house seems pretty empty. must be a busy day. you try shouting a couple more times, still to no reply.

figuring since you walked all the way here, to no avail, you may as well take a minute to rest on the couch. and take a beer from the fridge, what's one missing, right?

relaxing on the couch, sipping the beer (which always tastes better when stolen from the Gallagher fridge) you suddenly hear your name. you figure you must've misheard something, or imagined it completely - probably sleep deprivation, it wasn't a great night.

then you hear it again. it's loud in the way you can tell it's not meant to be shouted, so it's not like anyone's calling to you. it's kind of desperate. like someone's running, chasing you, trying to get your attention.

weirded out, you set your beer on the table and stand up, warily approaching the stairs. listening in, you hear a couple more sounds. there's a kind of out of breath panting. shortly after, another breathy call of your name.

perhaps against your better judgement, you ascend the stairs, making sure to be quiet - just in case. the sound of quiet groans becomes more clear as you reach the top of the steps.

"what the fuck-", you whisper to yourself. the sounds are coming from the spare room. where Lip's been sleeping. pressing your ear to the door, you hear the chorus of moans, groans, pants and desperate iterations of your name.

your face burns bright red, and a familiar feeling of anticipation and excitement pools in your stomach. the truth is, you've always found Lip crazy attractive. he's rough around the edges, intelligent and honest. and surprisingly, very loyal and caring. in short, he's sweet and hot. you'd be lying if you didn't say he was definitely one of the better perks of being Ian's best friend.

you wonder for a split second if what you're about to do is a good idea, before deciding you don't really care. you push open the door and see Lip in his rather desperate position. he's spread across the bed, dressed in only boxers and a tank top. his face is red from panting, and his back is arching him off the bed.

he's clearly very into his self pleasure, so he doesn't seem to notice you right away. trembling with every step, you move towards the bed, stopping by the side. one of Lip's eyes open and look at you. shockingly, he doesn't freak out. he doesn't even seem embarrassed. he is, as usual, cool as can be. he says nothing, just looks at you. his remaining pants turn into a bit of a chuckle.

hesitantly, you sit close to Lip on the bed. he furrows his brow at you. looking him right in the eyes, taking a deep breath. you reach and grab the bulge in his boxers. Lip's breath hitches.

he's absolutely rock hard and you can feel it. you can feel the strain, the need. you want to relieve Lip of this. of everything. you want to help him.

kissing him forcefully, you don't waste any time. hand reaching inside his boxers to stroke where he needs you most. he groans immediately. he grabs the wrist of the hand you're touching him with, he guides you up and down, faster. gripping your hand, making you hold him tighter.

his eyes are squeezed so tightly shut, his head is thrown back. harshly, with little to no patience, Lip grabs the back of your head, taking a second to play with your hair. there's that playful softness. the reason you've always liked Lip. the roughness, the want and need for something more, paired with a gentle goofyness. he flashes you a smile and before you can even go in to kiss him again - which you really want to do - he's guided your head downwards.

you figure there will be time for intimacy once the rush is over. eager to fulfill Lip's fantasy, - if you're honest, it's definitely yours too - you dip your head down immediately. taking him into your mouth, and he groans louder then ever. his big hands immediately grip onto your hair.

your hands are resting on his thighs as you bob your head up and down. he lets go of his iron grip on your hair to sit up and take off his wife-beater, the only piece of clothing he still has on.

he's glistening with sweat, you reach your hands up to feel his chest. when you groan around him at the feeling of his strong body, he growls in appreciation.

his grip tightens, back arching again. you pick up the pace, putting your all into giving Lip what he wants. what he needs. his groans get deeper, growls more frequent. you can tell by the tightness of his grip on your head that he's close. really close.

"fuck...", Lip grumbles, his deep voice rings out and settles in your head. playing on loop. fuck, fuck, fuck.

he cums with a deep shout of pleasure, arched body spasming as he pulls harshly on your hair.

working him through his aftershocks, his tensed body falls backwards onto the bed. his hand wipes sweat from his forehead. his hand, joined with yours, pulls you to lie next to him.

he turns to you, "fuck me, Y/N. didn't know you were so wild." he chuckles, blue eyes glossed over. in the afterglow of your hot encounter, you take a second to appreciate his boyish beauty. his curls, messed up from rolling around in his bed. smug smirk, a smile that reaches his bright eyes.

he glances down to see that you are, obviously, very hard. smiling to himself, he figures he'll give something new a shot today. he grabs your head, gently this time, and kisses your forehead. there's the intimacy.

he's rubbing you through your jeans, biting his lip in anticipation.

fuck.

(finished this one for the very nice anon 👌 )

#ooft #lip gallagher x male reader #male reader #x reader #shameless #mlm #smut #lip gallagher x reader #p4rallel-universe

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mysteryshoptls · 7 months

Text

SR Cater Diamond - Playful Dress Voice Lines

Summon Line: Amusement parks are all about snapping cool photos with your friends! It's fine to skip school once in a while and just have some fun like a student should, right?

Groooovy!!: The front row seats for the show is this-a-way. Cay-kun will now show you to your seats. Follow me～

Home: Let's have a ton of fun ♪

Swap Looks: This look might be kinda stylish… in its own way, I guess?

Home Idle 1: Fellow-kun's pretty nimble, huh～ Cay-kun's never been very good at making that kind of split-second movements.

Home Idle 2: I heard that this amusement park is a place where "Everyday is Like Sunday." It'd be great if we could enjoy our school life with that same kind of feeling.

Home Idle 3: Me and Ortho went to check out the character meet-and-greet. That's definitely a must whenever you're at a theme park!

Home Idle - Login: Amusement parks are so rad～! Why don't we take a selfie together right here at the gate? Think of it as the first of many to remember today!

Home Idle - Groovy: Look at this photo that got taken of ol' Cay-kun right as the roller coaster dropped! I just had to buy it, it's hilarious.

Home Tap 1: Whaddya think of my outfit? The way it's snug tight around my waist makes me feel like I'm one of the amusement park cast members!

Home Tap 2: Huh...? Do you hear something that sounds like buildings being destroyed, or breaking glass? I wonder if it's some kind of construction for an attraction.

Home Tap 3: There was a certain sharpness to Jack's movements in the show～ Even though the choreography was more on the cute side, he definitely made it look cool.

Home Tap 4: Hey look, there's a pony over there! Its ears are long and cute, just like a rabbit's～! Looks like a real unusual little pony.

Home Tap 5: There's way too many photo spots at this amusement park! I have to keep on uploading my selfies and food pics to Magicam ASAP ♪

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh hey, think you'd want any popcorn? If so, tell me your favorite flavor. Your boy Cay-kun'll get it for you.

Requested by @thelonepearl.

#twisted wonderland #twst #cater diamond #twst cater #twst translation #twst playful land

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depravitycentral · 5 months

Text

General Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara Profile

Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of masturbation, mentions of non-con, mentions of murder, threats, slight emotional manipulation, Jin is a creep and goes through your stuff, breaking and entering, mentions of horrible men who don't respect women (not our lovely Jin), brief mention of strip clubs, mental breaks/Jin's Splits, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Perceptive

More than anything, Jin looks for a darling that can understand him.

He so desperately craves a human connection full of trust and caring, and having a darling who is able to read him like a book would be absolutely perfect.

He needs someone who is able to tell at a glance what he’s thinking – not getting bogged down by the multitudes of personalities shining through at any given time and instead seeing what the real him is feeling.

He craves someone who can offer him a sense of normalcy, someone who can make him feel like less of a freak, like less of a fuck-up, more like a real man. He grows attached to a perceptive darling quickly, feeling at ease in a way that he normally doesn’t.

They’re just perfect – he feels like he can be himself, letting himself be truly authentic and truly Jin.

It’s a luxury he’s nearly never afforded, his darling creating a safe space for him without even realizing it – something he’s beyond grateful for, and something that keeps him running back to his darling at every turn because it feels so damn good to just let himself go and not hold himself back.

It’s wonderful, and as soon as his darling displays this quality, Jin is helplessly, hopelessly hooked.

Sweet

At his core, Jin is a good person who’s made many bad mistakes.

He’s not a bad person by nature – and as a result, Jin finds himself attracted to people who are similar to him. He wants someone who is genuinely a good person – someone who is nice, sweet, someone who’s heart is generally positive and full of happiness.

And Jin particularly likes when this trait is aimed at him – compliments melt his heart. As soon as the words slip off his darling’s lips, Jin’s gaping at them, his heart racing in his chest and his face feeling hot because when was the last time he was complimented?

When was the last time someone praised him, the last time they smiled at him like that, the last time they seemed so genuinely happy to see him?

It doesn’t feel real when he first meets his darling, his interest immediately peaked because god, it really feels like they see him, like they understand him.

It’s euphoric in many ways, leaving his skin prickling in excitement and his stomach fluttering in nerves and pride.

A sweet darling is ideal for him – because even as his obsession festers and his behavior becomes more and more extreme, a darling who remains kind to him will only fuel this infatuation, only pushing him to try harder to win them over, to become more and more desperate to have them as his, just as he begins daydreaming about.

It’s just perfect for him – and he’ll do his absolute best to return the favor, complimenting his beloved as often and as honestly as he can, even if the compliments are more disturbing than flattering.

Calm

Jin needs a darling that can handle his Splits. He needs someone who is not only patient with him, but is also able to take the things he throws at them in stride, not even blinking when Jin falls into a particularly nasty split that’s got him spouting nonsense and panicking.

They need to be able to be calm and help them, assessing the situation and knowing exactly how to talk him down from the episode, to keep him breathing steadily and hold him so that he stays oriented.

He needs a darling that can handle the way his mouth doesn’t seem connected to his brain – random words spilling from his lips that sometimes embarrass him.

When a personality reveals something embarrassing that Jin did as a way to get closet to you, his darling needs to be able to calmly respond, to assess the situation and hopefully come to the conclusion that it’s not true, that there’s absolutely no way that Jin would do something so crazy and strange.

And yet, a calmer darling will be absolutely shocked when they learn that all of the things Jin had divulged without meaning to are true – all of it, down to the stolen socks and stalking to the graphic dreams and preparations of his apartment to make it seem a little more like his darling’s – a little more like them.

A calmer darling is ideal for Jin because he’s simply too excitable and tightly strung to not have a calm darling.

Oblivious

A darling that doesn’t notice the multitude of red flags in his behavior would make Jin’s life much, much easier.

A darling that is oblivious or perhaps blinded by their positive assumptions about people would work in Jin’s favor, because it would allow him to push the boundaries just a bit, just as he does without meaning to, all without having to explain the slip-ups he makes, all without having you grow scared by the way he seems to become more and more present in your life.

He needs a darling who doesn’t realize just how deeply Jin has invaded their life – so they can’t run before he manages to ensnare them, so they can’t leave him and abandon him like he’s so afraid they will.

Plus, there’s something endearing about this trait that Jin just can’t shake.

It makes him feel like a protector, making it easier to convince himself that his darling needs him to be around in order to safely function, to not be taken advantage of by some creep with bad intentions.

It makes justifying his actions much, much easier, lessening the small sense of guilt that eats away at him, lessening the insecurity that pushes him to draw back every once in a while, convinced that he’ll never be good enough for his precious lovely darling.

An oblivious darling would allow him to operate with less secrecy and fear, something that Jin is grateful for. Plus, they’re just so damn cute – cute enough to eat.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

Once Jin’s feelings for you take root, it’s over.

He’s so broken and lost, quite literally unsure of his place in the world, his purpose, himself. And so once you step into his life, with your pretty face and even prettier voice that says the nicest, most caring things to him, Jin’s reaction is nearly out of his control.

How can he not become absolutely, utterly enraptured with you when you’re so kind to him?

When you smile at him like that, all teeth and appled cheeks and this sparkle in your eye that he can tell isn’t forced, how can he not find himself swooning? How can he not be smitten with you when you look at him like he’s a person, like he’s worth something, like he has value and isn’t just a waste of space?

It’s euphoric, something that makes his pulse race and his cheeks tinge pink, and so of course he’s desperate to spend time with you, to be in your presence and soak up every ounce of you that he possibly can. In the beginning, when his feelings are freshly formed and still having some semblance of normalcy, Jin’s too shy to directly ask you to be with him.

He’ll struggle to look you in the eye, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his gaze flick to you every few seconds as he mumbles out a rushed, awkward, so um, I was uh, wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend…

It’s hard to hear and you’ll ask him to repeat himself, only furthering his embarrassment and making him wince because obviously you’re going to say no – you’re too pretty and smart and sweet for him, why would you ever say yes to a washed-up criminal like him? But before he can even get the chance to respond, he’s blurting out a let me take ya to the theater, yeah? We can get seats in the back where it’s just the two of us.

He’s mortified, immediately clasping a hand over his mouth and his eyes going wide; he didn’t mean it like that! Well, okay, maybe he did, and maybe the idea of being a dim, warm place with comfortable velvet seats and sugary drinks with his body pressed right next to yours is incredibly enticing and enough to make him salivate and pant like some fucking dog –

Except you’ll still say yes, because at this point Jin’s infatuation – while still painfully obvious – seems like just a crush. He’s awkward and flustered around you, but that’s kind of endearing and sweet, isn’t it?

A fully grown man – and one who’s seen more horrors than you can imagine – is bashful over you?

It’ll have you looking past the way that he always seems to show up at the places you frequent, that same nervous and hopeful look on his face as he scans the crowd for your familiar figure.

It’ll have you looking past the way he puts his hand on your back and keeps it there for much, much too long, never moving downwards but always staying firm, as if he’s glued to you, as if separating himself from you is physically painful.

It’ll have you looking past the way he begs you to share just one more glass of cheap booze, telling you that it’s good for you, that it’ll help you relax and destress from that job of yours that you hate.

(Plus, you look so damn cute when you’re tipsy – all clumsy and giggly, your inhibitions lowered so that you don’t notice when his gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long, when his hand skims across your thigh, when he leans in much too close and inhales much too loudly.)

You’ll write off most of Jin’s clingy behaviors with a wave of your hand and an excuse that it’s simply how he processes his trauma. And it’s true, to some extent. Except you don’t know the full extent – you don’t know how he follows you home every night, trying his best to stay quiet as he lurks in the shadows, making sure no one approaches you on your commute back to the quaint little apartment he’d give absolutely anything to share with you.

You don’t know the way he borrows small items of yours, keeping them on his ragged nightstand next to the bare mattress he sleeps on, your hair clips and toothbrushes kept as pristine and safe as he possibly can.

(He’ll pick them up with trembling fingers, scared that even simply touching something of yours will break it, yet simultaneously thrilled that he has something of yours, something of an angel’s.)

You aren’t aware of the way he fantasizes about you constantly, imagining everything from linking your pinkies together to burying his face between your legs. (And in vivid, vivid detail, too – even going so far as to mimic your voice and sit on his own hand so that it'll go numb, just like some teenage boy.)

You’ll write it off, but Jin sees this as permission to push further, to try harder, to test the boundaries of your ‘friendship’ as far as he can without you growing suspicious. He’ll pull you into hugs with higher frequency and longer times, keeping you pressed against his body while he buries his face into your neck and tries not to moan at the smell of you.

He’ll spam your phone with text after text, conveying conflicting messages that showcase just how little control over himself and his split personalities where you’re concerned.

(You’ll have to turn off your ringer permanently with him around – he will drive you insane, the buzzing noise and the obnoxious little bring making you lose your mind. He texts you day and night, your peaceful sleep interrupted with the notification of fifty unread texts from him, ranging from single sentences to near paragraphs.)

He’s not exactly subtle, and while you’ll cling to your excuse of him just being lonely and struggling to cope with his past, eventually you’ll have to realize that Jin isn’t just using you to help him work through his previous experiences – no, he wants more.

He wants you. He needs you, to a degree where his every waking thought revolves around you, and most of his dreams do, too. He’s clingy and needy and always, always demanding your attention, and eventually you’ll find yourself nearly ripping your hair out because you just can’t seem to get a moment of privacy around the blond, his eyes always watching you and his fingers always itching to reach out and touch, to press against your skin, to make sure that you’re real and present and with him.

He just needs the reassurance that you won’t leave him, that you’ll stay with him, that you’ll always be with him – you keep him from splitting after all, and how could he ever thank you?

By being your personal watchdog and eagerly completing each and every request of yours, no matter how depraved or inhumane and dehumanizing. Anything for you.

Obsessive

Tying hand in hand with his clinginess, Jin finds himself drowning in a sea of you once his feelings form. He finds himself so overwhelmed with all the warring desires in his heart – he wants to see you, his fingers twitching and itching to set his eyes on you, to be in your presence and bask in you you you.

But he also wants to spend time laying on his dingy mattress, his eyes closed as he mentally lists all of the things he loves about you, all the things that leave him breathless and blushing and reaching out towards you with trembling hands.

He wants to speak with you, to maybe make you laugh and hear that wonderful laugh of yours all because of something he said, but he’s also too afraid to instigate conversations with you because he’s worried he’ll somehow fuck up and scare you off.

(And just the mere thought of that gets him in a cold sweat, hands gripping at his blond hair and his eyes squeezing shut, lips moving like lightning as he repeats the mantra that you want him you want him you want him… Splits caused by his doubt for your feelings for him are always the worst – they last longer, they leave a more harrowing impact, and – worst of all – he’s so distracted by his feelings that he loses all awareness of his surroundings. He’s no longer aware of the vase nearby, knocking into it and sending the thing shattering against the floor, the sound and the feeling of glass shards pricking at his feet not even pulling him out of his stupor.)

He’s a mess in every meaningful way, and yet the only thing he can regularly, consistently bring himself to do is amass more and more information about you. You’re his own personal drug; one that calms him slightly, that makes him feel more whole – thinking of you is the only thing that can keep him focused, and this manifests itself in many ways.

Mainly, Jin takes to stalking you very, very early on. He’s simply too intrigued and attached to not follow you home, unwilling to let you out of his sight for even a few seconds. He’s worried for your safety, sure, because he’s sure that a sweet, lovely thing like you could never defend yourself should a villain confront you, but that’s not why he’s trailing you in the shadows like some loser, like some freak.

No – the real reason is much more depraved, sadder and more pathetic than Jin himself would like to admit. It’s really because with every moment he watches you, he learns more and more about you.

Each night that he trails you home from work, he’s learning enough things to fuel his dreams that night – you avoid sidewalks with people when it’s late at night, preferring instead to cross the street so that you won’t pass them.

(Not that he’d let anything happen to you – he’d kill whoever laid a finger on you. He’d start by punching them, getting them to the ground and sinking his fist against their cheek and jaw again and again and again, then wrap his fingers around their neck and squeeze, feeling the way they’d wheeze and choke and desperately grapple at this fingers, begging him to save their worthless life. Begging with that same voice that they could’ve been calling out lewd and inappropriate things to you in, touching him with those hands that he’s sure they would’ve used to touch you, to taint and mar your pretty skin and leave you scared and trembling and shaking and needing someone like Jin to come and rescue you –

The man would be dead before Jin knows it, his lip caught between his teeth because although killing someone doesn’t necessarily feel good, there’s something pleasant swimming in his gut because now this person will never, ever get near you again.)

He learns that you always stop to look at pretty window displays, the glittering Christmas lights and decorations making you twinkle in turn, the colors shining against your skin and clothes in a way that makes Jin swear you’re an angel, as if you’re a personal piece of heaven just for him, no matter how undeserving he may be.

He learns that you keep your spare apartment key under your welcome mat, always fishing it out before you slip into your apartment. Your apartment, which he’s visiting numerous times – enough times that if he had to, he could navigate with his eyes closed. He’s poured through every square inch of your home – digging through drawers and marveling at each little trinket he can find, no matter how mundane.

He rifled through your kitchen drawer last month, noticing with baited breath that you have a variety of spices in your cupboard – you must like your food well-seasoned. He’s not a very good cook, but for you, he could be – and all too soon images of you leaning close to him, your lashes fluttering and your eyes sultry as you eat the bit of food off his outstretched fork, making a show of swallowing and telling him that his cooking is so good Jin, you’re so wonderful for me…

He’d also found a pair of scissors, something that’d made his brows furrow in worry because although he trusts that you’re responsible, it still makes him nervous for you to have something like this laying around your house – something that could easily cut you, something that has the potential to hurt you.

He’s gone through each and every piece of silverware you own, looking at each fork and knife and gulping, his cheeks red as he thinks of the way you’ve used these pieces of metal – your lips and tongue have pressed against the material, your saliva coating the fork’s prongs, the slurping and sucking noises you make as you eat the soup off of your spoon.

He’ll gulp, looking around your empty apartment, then quickly shove the fork into his mouth, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head because although you’ve washed it, he swears the fork tastes like you – and isn’t this almost a form of an indirect kiss? Aren’t his lips touching something yours has, his tongue rubbing and caressing the prongs just as yours might have?

(The thought leaves his knees weak, his pants unbearably tight, the fork clutched tightly in his fist as he wills himself to stay strong, to keep going and not crumple to a ball in the middle of your kitchen and fuck his fist like he so desperately needs to.)

He’ll sit on your couch, his breath uneven as soon as the soft cushions rest below him, his muscles tense and tight because he’s seen you sit here, watched as you laughed and roared at some television show, your pretty body molding to the couch’s cushions, your pajamas looking so cute and adorable and sexy on you.

His hands idly run over the couch fabric, his Adam’s Apple bobbing because oh, you’ve touched this before, haven’t you? He’ll meander into your bathroom, fingering your towels and letting his tongue slip over his lips, internally debating if it’s really such a good idea, if it’s crossing a boundary, if it really wouldn’t hurt…

And soon he’s stepping into your shower, the hot water (set to the temperature he knows you like) cascading down his nude body. He’ll open each of your shower products and eagerly smell them, something like a strangled groan slipping past his lips with each smell. He’s using your hair care products, lathering himself in your body wash, using your loofah and even using your razor, just because he wants the full experience of you, to be as close to you as possible given your current absence in the apartment.

And of course he’ll be using the towel once he’s finished – your towel, the one that still smells like you and has a strand or two of your hair sitting so perfectly and neatly on it.

(Jin picks up the hairs in awe, swallowing and bringing the hair up, his tongue brushing against the strand, his teeth clenching down as he chews at it.)

He wants to touch your toothbrush (so badly that it nearly hurts), but he stops himself, deciding that he should save that honor for when you’re sharing a toothbrush, when you’re with him every morning and night.

And of course, he’s tiptoeing into your bedroom, his eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring because oh god, it smells exactly like you and he thinks he might faint because it feels like you’re really here with him, like you’re by his side and hugging him and he’s surrounded by you you you.

He’s mostly respectful – or at least, as much as a man breaking-and-entering into your apartment can be, avoiding your underwear drawers despite the voice in his head urging him to snatch a pair of panties.

(The sexy ones, you know ‘em – the lacy black ones, the ones you were thinkin’ of last night when you jerked off so many times you were shootin’ blanks.)

He’ll open your closet, whistling at the sight of all your clothes. He’ll try on as many things as he can, hoping that things will fit him, always careful to hang them back up exactly as he found them, though a small part of him hopes that you can smell him on the clothing, that you’ll be reminded of him and be comforted. He’ll sit on your bed, breath hitched as he feels the way the mattress sags under his weight, before laying down slowly.

He’d showered that morning and was suddenly thankful for it – he wouldn’t want to sully your comforter with any dirt or grime. He’ll even dare to get under the covers for a moment, letting his eyes flutter closed as he imagines laying with you, spooning you with sunlight streaming in through the window, feeling your body (nude, of course, because he sleeps nude and all couples should sleep without clothing, yes?) against his and relishing in the smell of your hair and the nape of your neck.

All the while, Jin is noticing and mentally cataloguing every little detail he can process while in your apartment – the color scheme, what photographs you have up, what decorates your walls, whether there’s dirty clothes on your floors or bed or if you’re perfectly clean. Because really, everything is important – every little scrap of knowledge he can glean about you feeds the insatiable desire he harbors for you, this uncontrollable urge to be with you at all moments of the day.

This satisfies him, for now – it’s enough for the time being to be living as your shadow, but soon he’ll want to be by your side, hearing you say his name and feeling your soft hands touching him.

And he’ll do absolutely anything you tell him – all with an eager nod and a franticness to his actions that would leave him wildly embarrassed if it was anyone other than you.

Anyone other than the woman he’s hopelessly infatuated with – the one he'd get on his knees and literally beg for, even just for a simple glance his way.

Gentle

As a general rule, Jin absolutely does not want to hurt you.

Despite his status as a villain, he’s caring and soft to almost a debilitating degree, the notion of violence often necessary but not something he actively pursues. And so, of the small list of people in this world that he cares about, he would never purposefully harm any of them – and because you sit smack at the top of that list, this sentiment is only more extreme.

He thinks of you as perfection, idolizing you in every possible way, and so to even entertain the idea of leaving any sort of physical or emotional damage to you makes Jin physically ill, a Split oncoming as his stomach heaves, his head feeling dizzy and light as panic engulfs him. He absolutely does not want to harm you or upset you in any way, and this ultimately results in Jin being a yandere who is neither harsh nor patronizing, but rather simply gentle.

He treats you like an absolute queen; though he’s in a financial position that makes legally procuring gifts for you a little trickly, Jin goes out of his way to try and provide you with everything and anything he can to make you happy.

Before kidnapping you, this looks like buying you small, simple little token gifts – a small, modest bouquet of flowers (bouquet being a stretch – more often than not it’s just a single flower that he himself plucked from the ground, keeping the flower safe and preserved on his journey to find you – searching your most frequently visited locations, of course, and tapping into the tracker he'd managed to get Skeptic to install into your confiscated phone).

It looks like him offering to treat you to dinners and lunches, always at places that are within his price range (because stealing food in front of you would be a tacky move and although he can’t keep the façade of his occupation away from you forever, he’d like you to think of him as a dignified man), with greasy tables and even greasier meals, dingy lighting and seats with duct tape holding the leather booths together.

It’s not much, but it’s all Jin can offer you – and he does so with the most heart-melting, hopeful smile, his eyes soft and this look of utter vulnerability scrawled across his face that’ll have you giving in almost immediately, agreeing to getting lunch with him despite the way that his blatant staring bothers you.

(As does the way he leans in and inhales deeply when your back is turned. You can hear the breathing, the strange gulping sound that follows, and although it makes the bad kind of shivers race up your spine, you don’t bring it up with him.)

And once he’s stolen you away, that façade of being a dignified man is up – he’s still spoiling you, even more so than before your forced captivity with him, but now he doesn’t feel that he has to pay to spoil you. Now, he can steal your favorite things – because really, anything is worth seeing your smile light up your whole face when he brings home that expensive pastry he knows you love.

(The sweet is perfectly preserved, not a single wrinkle in the pretty, ornate parchment paper it’s wrapped in, nor is any portion of the sweet itself squished. He’d paid extra care to keep everything perfectly in-tact – perfect for you, because anything less than that would be an insult to his love for you.)

He’s bringing home all sorts of movies for the two of you to watch together, his hand slowly inching to your thigh as you sit side by side on his shitty old couch, the television on but all his attention focused on trying to be subtle about showing you just how badly he needs to touch you. He’s trying his best to get your favorite foods every night, getting you a few new clothes (and some of his own – he’s got a few sweatshirts that he will be forcing you into wearing, the sight of you in his clothing making his face scarlet and his face buried in his hands, his lip caught between his teeth as he tries and fails to compose himself because god, you look so good and it looks so fucking right to see you in something of his.)

Really, while Jin knows that he can’t buy your love and acceptance of his feelings, he’s desperate for any sort of help to get you moving that way. Any aid he can enlist in helping spark and develop any sort of reciprocation of his obsession with you is eagerly used, hope springing up inside his chest that maybe, just maybe, if he can make you happy enough you’ll forget that he’s a criminal, that he’s kidnapped you, that you’ve found out about all the stalking and stealing used socks and living in your apartment while you weren’t home.

He’s hopeful that all his hard work will pay off – you’ll see him as a man who really, truly loves you, even if he doesn’t deserve you.

God, he’ll never deserve someone like you – but he’ll never stop wanting you, either.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

In general, Jin’s jealousy stems less from a place of selfish possessiveness and more from a place of insecurity and genuine worry for your safety.

Jin is more than aware that he’s not your ideal man – he’s a criminal with deaths to his name, renting a shitty apartment he can barely afford, riddled with mental health issues stemming from his quirk, and perpetually smelling like cigarettes. He’s very aware that if you were left to your own devices, you’d never pick him – and he can’t blame you, honestly. He’s a loser, a grown man with so many voices inside his head that he can’t keep track of them, and if he were a woman as pretty, sweet, and smart as you, he’d choose someone more successful, wealthier, more stable, just better.

And so, when he sees another man interact with you, his initial thought is that this is it – you’ll like this man more than you like Jin.

Maybe he’s funnier and wittier, or maybe he’s charming and suave with his words, two things that Jin himself certainly isn’t. Maybe he’s more attractive – without a nasty scar down the center of his forehead, or maybe you prefer brunettes like him, or maybe he’s taller.

Regardless, insecurity immediately eats away at Jin, forcing him to notice all of the things that man does better than him, all of the things that could pull your attention and feelings – whatever those may be – away from Jin and instead towards this stranger.

And while he initially feels that this is true, that this is the natural course of things and it’s how it should be, the longer he watches the interaction, the less satisfied with that he becomes. He grows restless, his fingers twitching at his sides, his muscles tensing and flexing and urging him to do something, whether that’s interrupting the two of you or causing a large enough distraction to end whatever conversation you’re having. It’s nearly unbearable, an internal war raging the longer he watches on, his lips moving and all sorts of different arguments and urges slipping off his tongue.

Go interrupt them!

No, it would be wrong of me to insert myself into a conversation that I’m not a part of.

Fuck that, he wants to steal her! He wants to make her his own!

You don’t know that, you can’t claim something that extreme without any foundation to base it on!

You can see his face, you can tell he wants to fuck her – look at that, he’s practically undressing her with his eyes!

It goes back and forth, seeming to never end, until eventually Jin forces himself to turn around and walk away, the part of him that’s insecure finally winning out the longer he notices things that are simply better about this stranger. It’s torturous and makes him bit his lip so hard it draws blood, his steps labored and heavy, but it’s the right thing to do.

And if you respond to his texts later that night, Jin will know that you haven’t completely forgotten him – perhaps you’ve forgotten this stranger, though, because you’re choosing to respond to Jin’s texts, not his. And this idea makes a wobbly smile spread across Jin’s face, his thumbs typing away at his cracked phone, deleting and retyping over and over again as he tries to think of ways to keep the conversation going, wanting so very badly to keep talking to you and keep your attention on him.

However, although Jin is fairly complacent and non-confrontational when it comes to most of your interactions with other men, there are a few circumstances where he’s not nearly as controlled – that is, when Jin can tell that the man has bad intentions.

It’s one thing to see you talk with a man that clearly finds you attractive, but it’s an entirely different story when Jin can see the gun or knife glinting in the man’s pocket, or when he recognizes the man’s face as a petty criminal known for pickpocketing defenseless women. It’s in these circumstances where Jin’s face will harden up, his lips a thin, straight line as he approaches the both of you, butting his way in with an excited greeting aimed at you, his eyes cold as he stares the man down.

And frankly, most petty villains will recognize him – sure, he isn’t the most famous villain, but he’s still a member of the League, and the perpetrator will often make some excuse and scurry away, not wanting to stir up any trouble with the League over some stupid woman.

And though Jin won’t want to explain why the man fled so quickly, he’s absolutely smug that his mere presence was enough to deter the man from bothering you anymore. He’ll look at you with excited eyes, his cheeks lightly flushed, hoping and praying that you’ll compliment him, that you’ll praise him and thank him because really, you wanted the man to go away but you were too scared to do it yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, if he’s really lucky, you’ll even give him a peck on the cheek as a thanks, the feeling of your lips against his skin making his heart race, this strange half-whimper slipping from his throat because you’re so close that he can smell you, and it’s fresh and real this time – not just the residual scent of your pillow your towel.

It’s wishful thinking, but Jin likes being your guardian angel – he’s anything but an angel, really, but it makes him feel important, needed, good. Like he’s actually giving you something, instead of just taking and taking and taking.

This is wrong, and Jin knows it. He shouldn’t be here – the cute little café is a public space, sure, but there was absolutely no chance that he would’ve found himself here if he hadn’t been trailing you for the last thirty minutes.

And he’d enjoyed it – watching you walk, seeing how your hair flittered a little in the breeze, the sway of your hips (something he tried hard not to look at but still found his gaze wandering down to every few minutes, his cheeks growing pink and palm coming up to smack at his cheek).

But the moment you’d entered the café, Jin following a few steps behind, he knows something is wrong. Instead of sitting at your own table, you make a beeline to the larger wooden one by the window – the one where a man is already sitting. Jin sits at his own table, some twenty feet away, bringing a flimsy newspaper up to cover his face.

The man greets you with a smile, introducing himself, complimenting your outfit and even pushing your fucking chair in, and suddenly it becomes very apparent what’s happening.

You’re on a date. A fucking date. Jin feels his face slip, a deep frown etching its way onto his lips. It’s torture to listen to you; your voice is a little higher than usual, he notes, and something sharp wedges its way between his ribs.

You never speak to him with that kind of voice – does that mean you aren’t interested in him? Does that means you don’t like him? Don’t say stupid crap like that! Are you stupid? It’s probably true! He winces, knocking at his head with his hand as a feeble attempt to get the warring thoughts to stop.

The date goes well, as far as Jin can tell – conversation flows easily, and with every passing moment he finds himself growing more and more restless, the hopelessness beginning to take its toll. He wants to interrupt – badly, really, with every fiber of his being. But that wouldn’t be fair to you – you obviously seem to like this man, perhaps even more than you like Jin, as loathe as he is to say it, and what right does he have to take that happiness away from you?

It hurts him, yes, but if it means staying in your life and seeing you happy, even if it’s with another man, he’ll grit his teeth and not play dirty. Your happiness is top priority, after all – and as you leave the café, you and the man going your separate ways, Jin can only hope that you will not be receiving any calls or texts from the man, even as you happily give him your number. He’s still gripping his hands into tight fists, even as he begins trailing the man.

This sight is significantly less pleasant than when he follows you – he doesn’t mind looking at you, not when you’re all pretty and sweet and you seem so very innocent. But this man? Well, as he approaches a bar a few blocks away, Jin’s brow cocks up. A mid-afternoon drink seems a little strange, and as Jin steps inside the bar after the man, a small burst of pride blooms in his chest.

Because really, this is not just a bar – there’s a stage, at the far back of the establishment, with all sorts of different colored lights beaming down on the main act: a scantily clad woman leaning back on a pole, winking at a man sitting in the front row. Jin’s taken aback – surely this can’t be a good sign, right?

You didn’t need to be seeing any men who frequent strip clubs – and with the way the man immediately went up to the bar, ordering a shot and acting friendly with the bartender, Jin’s sure this isn’t the first time he’s visited.

With a smile, Jin decides that this is finally something that Jin is better at – he’s many things, sure, but he only has eyes for you and he’d never seek out the visual comforts of another woman.

And as Jin approaches the bar, ears perked up, anger brews in his gut. Yeah man, just wrapped up a date – girl’s awful, talking about her family and shit, who the hell wants to hear that? She’d look better if she just shut the fuck up.

Jin’s jaw is on the floor, rage swimming in his veins. How dare this man speak about you that way – as if you’re just some random woman, as if everything you say isn’t gospel, something worthy of being revered and paid the utmost attention to. How dare this man dismiss you like that – after you’d been so happy, after you’d thought the date had gone so well, after he’d asked for your number, for God’s sake.

And with that, Jin sinks into his jacket, closing his eyes and trying to subdue the urge to walk over and sock the guy across the face so hard that he spits out a few teeth. No, that wouldn’t accomplish anything except a few moments of satisfaction – no, Jin has to take more drastic measures, something that will ensure that you and your fragile little heart won’t be hurt by this horrible, disgusting man.

And so, as Jin slips away, it’s not so hard to send you a fake text from the man, asking if he can swing by your apartment.

And you, being flustered that your date had contacted you to fast and so eagerly of course say yes, inviting him over for dinner. Jin smiles down at the phone with a big, bashful beam, able to pretend for just a few moments that he was supposed to be the recipient of that text, that really it was him you were inviting over for a homecooked meal, then maybe a movie, then maybe you’d stay up and talk with him for hours, falling asleep in his arms and letting him hold you like he spend hours dreaming of.

(Or, if you’re feeling a bit frisky, perhaps you’d let him spread your legs and spend hours with his head trapped between them, your taste and smell clouding his senses as he brings you to your high over and over and over…)

It’s not hard to make a copy of the man, to get him at your apartment door, that same suave walk and the high cheekbones making you bashful as you open your apartment door. But then, the man sneers at you, looking you up and down just as Jin had instructed, scoffing under his breath and telling you that you’re even uglier the second time I see you. I just came by to tell you that I don’t wanna see you anymore – you’re not my type, you know? I like ‘em a little more interesting. But if you wanna fuck, I’d be more than happy to –

You slam the door in his face, chest heaving and tears pricking at your eyes, and although it nearly braks Jin’s heart, he closes his eyes and breaths deep, reminding himself that although hurting you is making every bone in his body feel brittle and about ready to snap, this is necessary.

It’s necessary because the man probably would’ve done worse if left to his own devices – if his conversation with the bar tender was any indication, you would’ve been used for your body and then unceremoniously dumped in the trash. And you deserve so, so much more than that – Jin is sure of it, and Jin can give you that if you’d just let him.

He gives you some time, sure that you’re sobbing behind the front door, and it’s only an hour or so later that he texts you (from his real number, of course) if you’d like to grab dinner. He’s equal parts nervous and ecstatic when you respond with a simple yes, already eager to get you distracted from that loser – and, perhaps, even manage to show you how much better Jin can treat you.

He's charming that night, on his best behavior, telling you all sorts of jokes and asking about things he knows you love to ramble on about, just wanting to hear your voice and watch your lips move. And soon, the guilt is totally washed away – because really, would you have ever been able to speak this freely with that man? Absolutely not. Jin may not deserve you, but at least he can treat you well – so why can’t you see that?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Jin doesn’t want to kidnap you, but he will eventually reach a point where his anxiety, paranoia and profession leave him with no other choice. He’s fully aware that his obsession with you has grown to such astronomical proportions that it’s literally controlling his life, but he doesn’t seriously entertain the notion that you’re just as deeply in love and devoted to him as he is you.

(Obviously he likes to think that you are – pleasant daydreams star you with your lips pressed against his jaw as you tell him just how much he means to you, just how badly you want him, just how much you need him, but he’s always brought back to reality with a cruel slap, Dabi barking his name or an alarm clock going off and leaving him feel empty, alone, restless for you.)

He knows that he possesses a one-sided love for you, and in the beginning of his obsession, that was enough. It was enough to simply be seen by you – to have your attention on him if only for a few seconds, your smile and warm and inviting and genuine as you spoke to him. It was enough that he was a silent admirer, watching you from the shadows of your life and eagerly anticipating your next encounter, no matter how large or small.

It was enough, until suddenly it wasn’t. Suddenly Jin needed to have more contact with you – getting your phone number had been one of the most nerve-wracking things he’d ever done, his fear of rejection so incredibly high that it made his voice a bit scratchy and he’d almost stuttered, leaving him mortified but only more enamored with you when you just laughed and gladly filled out your contact information into his phone.

And that had been enough for a time, too – he could text you, sending you photos of the sunset that he spent five minutes trying to find the perfect camera settings and angles for, just so that he could send as good of a photo to you as possible and have you be impressed.

(He’d been hoping you’d even compliment him as a response, perhaps telling him that it’s so beautiful, Jin! You’re so talented at photography! Or, in an even more idealized world, you’d tell him how beautiful the stars are and then immediately follow that up with an offer to go star gazing, to spend the evening together curled up in some remote field staring up at the sky and using each other as body heat to stay warm in the cold night air.)

But then the texting and calling wasn’t enough – soon he needed more, and that’s when the stalking began. He’d follow you to work, then immediately return to your apartment and snoop around, touching everything and picking everything up just so that there was at least some memory of him on everything you own.

And this had to be enough – this was the furthest Jin could get away with without you noticing, without you cutting him out of your life completely once you realized just how truly deranged for you he was.

But then somehow a hero finds out about you, and suddenly your position in his life is threatened, and Jin panics. He totally, utterly panics, a Split intense enough to bring tears to his eyes forcing him to rely on the one person he trusts more than any other soul on the planet: you.

He comes to you, babbling and going on about some sort of internal debate that you can’t follow, and as you try to calm him down, your words start slowly sinking into Jin’s psyche. You keep saying that you’re there, that you’ll always be there for you, I promise.

You’re pulling him into your side, a cloth bag placed over hie head while you rub at his arms and back, shushing him gently and even rocking him back and forth every so slightly. And so, as the Split slowly fades and he calms down, two things happen – one, you sigh in relief and hope that Jin has processed some of his emotions and will leave, and two, Jin hearing your words as a promise that you want him, that you need him, that you want to stay by his side for the rest of your life.

And so, in the aftermath of a horrible mental health episode, Jin decides that you’ve essentially given him permission to make sure you really are always going to be there for him, just like you said.

It’s not hard to sneak into your apartment that night, the chloroform soaked rag sitting underneath your nose in a way that made it difficult not to swoon over your adorable sleeping figure.

(Jin gulps and swallows as he stares at your limp body, his hand reaching out to very, very lightly brush his fingertips over the expanse of your clothed hip, wide eyes staring at you as if you’re some piece of art, something for him to keep and cherish and love.)

And when you wake up the morning, you’ll find yourself in a strange bedroom with a strange man who’ll spoil you rotten – even if you beg him not to, even if you say the only gift you want is to be let free.

As a captor, Jin isn’t too terrible – all those desires to spoil you and make you happy are still very much present within him even once he’s stolen you away.

In fact, if anything he’s even more desperate to get you smiling, to see you be happy and looking at him with anything other than fear and hate. Because really, after that Split that led to him kidnapping you calms down, Jin is only left with complete and utter regret – you’ll hate him now, he’s sure of it.

You’ll be afraid of him, thinking of him not as the sweet, funny, and harmless Jin you’ve come to know but instead a monster, a criminal capable of hurting you in more ways than one. And this kills him – he hates being looked at like he’s ruined your life, even if he basically has. And because of this, he decides that the only way to get you to slowly see him in a positive light again is if he makes your life with him as good as possible – if he spoils you, treats you like a queen, pampers you and cares for you with the level of devotion that you deserve.

And frankly, Jin is more than happy to give you this – he’s a worshipper through and through, already revering you like you’re something holy and in need of constant praise. He’ll outfit his dingy apartment the best that he can – there’s freshly stolen furniture in your favorite colors and fabrics, changed lightbulbs for his overhead lights work, a stocked refrigerator, a new mattress.

(Only one though, so you’ll still have to share with him – but don’t be too worried, because he won’t actively try anything without your explicit permission. At least, he won’t while he’s awake – when he’s asleep is an entirely different story, because that’s when his real desires come out, unchecked and uncontrolled as he grinds his hips against your ass, his little moans and whispers of your name as he presumably has a wet dream about you more than a little awkward to lie next to. Don’t mention it to him though, please – he can tell that his cum is staining his boxers, but he’s always hopeful that you slept through it all, that you didn’t notice the way he was probably trying to get stimulation, that you didn’t see just how depraved and desperate for intimacy he is.)

He’s getting you comfortable clothing; lots of sweatshirts and lounging pants, fuzzy socks and even a few hats for when the heating in the building goes out (as it often does).

(He really likes to see you in his clothing, of course, but Jin isn’t too terribly pushy – he’d be ecstatic if you willingly wore something of his, his face bright red and all sorts of things coming out of his mouth, but he’s really and truly pleased, a satisfied and smug feeling burrowing in his chest that’s difficult to hide. Sometimes he’ll even wear the new clothing first, making sure that it smells like him, before handing it off for you to hear, biting his lip and struggling to stay calm because god, you look so damn good in what he’d just worn, god you’re really here with him right now and looking at him and touching him and acknowledging him.)

He’ll stock up on all your favorite foods, paying special attention to making sure he has every snack under the sun. And while he does care about your health, when he’s buying you all these snacks, he’ll get absolutely anything you want, even if there’s so much sugar and such little nutritional value that it makes him nervous.

He can’t cook very well, but he’ll order takeout or swing by a restaurant and steal something for dinner, always loving the look of hunger and shy thankfulness as you bite into the meal he’s brought you, trying hard to ignore the way he’s blatantly staring at you and awaiting your approval.

And really, that’s another part of your captivity with him – the staring, the touching, the constant talking, the constant him. He’s always been clingy with you, but it’s even more so once he's got you trapped under his thumb. He always has to be looking at you, observing you and feeling like he’s a part of whatever you’re doing. He wants to see everything you’re up to – when you’re watching television, he’s watching you.

(And nervously playing with his fingers, like there’s something he wants to ask you but is afraid to, right up until he blurts it out, something crude and rude and it immediately makes him apologize, gripping at his hair a bit and telling you about how he didn’t mean it, oh man I promise I didn’t mean it!)

When you’re doing one of the puzzles he’d stolen to help keep you entertained while he was busy, he’s sitting on the other side of the table, those eyes of his glued onto your fingers as you try each piece, watching with rapt attention and marveling at how you slowly make progress, feeling smug and prideful because his girl is so smart.

When you’re stepping into the shower, you can see him out of the corner of your eye, not peeking at you but simply staring at the open doorway of the bathroom, his back facing the shower but his presence still suffocating you.

(He refuses to leave alone during showers, simply because he’s terrified that you’ll slip and fall, that you’ll crack your head open or accidentally swallow shampoo or any number of other wild, outlandish things. And, as he listens to the sound of running water, he’s hoping that one day he’ll get to join you – that one day you’ll be able to bathe together. He’ll run his fingers over your roots, massaging the shampoo into your hair slowly and deeply, your body pressed close to his as the water cascades down your back. He’ll have you lather up his body with that scented body wash you love, and maybe you’ll even draw shapes with the bubbles, press kisses to his naked chest or press yourself against him, whispering in your ear that you love him...)

Truly, Jin is not so bad – he's clingy and you’ll have absolutely no time to yourself, but he’s not too invasive. He doesn’t treat you like an incompetent child, and he at least tries to make you happy – he won’t push you into a physical relationship, not does he demean you in any purposeful way.

The only true negative with Jin (aside from your kidnapping in the first place, not to mention the stalking and hyper fixation) is that although he tries his best to control it, Splits are not pretty, and you’re always the one he comes to her help. When you’re around they happen significantly less often, his comfort level higher and his concentration wavering from his own identity crisis and instead towards you, just as his thoughts often do, but they still happen.

And when they do, he’s blindly searching for you, reaching out bleary, teary eyes and all sorts of babbles and rambles coming from his mouth, every muscle in his body tensing up as he clutches onto you, begging for you to help him, to please, please make me whole again, ‘m not sure what’s – what’s real.

And while you may hate Jin for kidnapping you, for occasionally breaking into your apartment while you’re asleep and watching you rest, for threatening others in your name, for keeping you safe and sound, you still can’t watch this. Somewhere buried inside the monster that stole you away is the Jin that you were friends with – and that’s the Jin you want to help, the one that’s driving you as you shove the paper bag down over his head, letting him engulf you in a nearly too-tight hug as he sobs and his shoulders shake.

It takes him a while to calm down, but as his grip grows tighter and he starts murmuring your name under his breath like a chant, he’ll slowly pull away, swallowing heavily and telling you that he loves you, that he needs you, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And perhaps it’s Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps you’ve simply gone crazy, but as time passes something about that sentiment will start becoming romantic to you, something that makes your heart race and gets your palms sweaty.

Because really, eventually you will end up playing out Jin’s fantasies – where the two of you are deeply in love, living together, sleeping together, bathing together, eating together, doing every possible thing in one another’s company because he simply can’t stomach the idea of being aware from you for any small amount of time.

It’s bliss, everything he’s ever dreamed of – and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get there, even if it means acting like your slave just to see you smile at him once a while and give him any scrap of positive affection you can muster.

Anything at all.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Jin worships you. He finds you to be absolute perfection – you’re beautiful and caring and patient, everything wonderful and nearly too perfect to even be real. You’re certainly too perfect for a fuck-up like him – and yet he wants you, in such a primal and raw way that he can’t hope to fight it.

You’re like air to him, and because he’s grown so attached to your praise and presence in order for his mental health to stabilize for a few moments, Jin can’t stomach the thought of punishing you.

You’re supposed to be happy with him – you’re supposed to be growing to love him, something that he works hard at every day that he has you trapped with him. He gets you flowers (they’re a little wilted and old, but they’re the best he can find), little chocolates (never quite in the flavors and styles you like, but as close as he can get), and tries to keep you happy and placated by having all your favorite things in the apartment.

And so, even more than being upset that you attempted to escape or hurt yourself, Jin can’t really fathom why you’d even bother doing something worthy of a punishment in the first place – are his efforts not enough? Is it not enough for him to run himself ragged trying to think of ways to keep you happy, to show you that despite having kidnapped you, he’s not an entirely bad person?

It’s demoralizing and sends him spiraling into a state of panic and confusion, leading to particularly bad Splits that get him ripping at his hair and frantically grabbing for something, anything, to stop the episode in its tracks.

And so, punishments aren’t common at all – with a few hard exceptions that he does, with time, deem as worthy of his punishments.

(Harming yourself is a large one, as is attempting to harm Jin. Most other things are fair game, and things that he understands why you’d do. But once there’s the question of safety, Jin’s hairs are standing on edge, worry eating him alive because he absolutely cannot have you bleeding or in pain or any number of horrible things.)

You’ll never, ever be physically harmed while with him – the mere thought makes him anxious enough that he feels like he’ll hurl, the images of you bruised and battered flashing behind his eyes and making him feel on edge, anger boiling up in his chest because he absolutely will not stand for you to be harmed in any capacity, whether by another person or by himself.

And he doesn’t even really like to emotionally punish you – he’s not the best manipulator in the world, and something about purposefully warping your mind makes him feel dirty, a grimy feeling that makes his skin crawl and that he wants to avoid at all costs. But sometimes, certain infractions – especially towards the beginning of your captivity – have to be addressed, the bad behavior in you stomped out before it can really take root.

And so, Jin relies on other methods to get these points across – that is, he decides to show you just how good you have it with him by taking some of that good away.

He’ll revoke your dinner privilege for a night, or showering privileges for a few days.

He’ll forbid you from listening to music by removing all electronic players in the apartment, his phone hidden on his person (and yours having been long destroyed, even from before he laid your unconscious body out on your bed, marveling at the sight of you and oh-so-gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face).

It doesn’t feel good, you being even minorly uncomfortable in any way a difficult a difficult sight, but Jin pushes through, his personalities arguing audibly but all eventually agreeing that showing you exactly what you do have is the best method to go about making you as happy as you possibly can be with him.

Besides, there’s something inexplicably satisfying about the moment that you finally admit that you need him, that as much as you hate the hell he’s created by kidnapping you and keeping you all for himself, you must rely on him if you want to survive.

And Jin is smug – finally, you’re starting to see that he can be good, that he’s really not the monster you’ve cracked him out to be. And as soon as the punishment is over, Jin is back to the ever-loving, clingy mess that he always is, desperate to be around you and get your attention.

Jin’s hurt, more than anything, when you lunge at him and swing your fist like you’re trying to punch him.

He stops you easily, of course, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that has you shrinking back, shame withering through your body because god, how can he look so genuinely heartbroken, so genuinely betrayed?

It’s silent for a few moments as he holds your wrist in place, his mind too distracted to even focus on the feeling of physical touch that you initiated, even if the intention was less than ideal. His voice is small when he asks you what you’re doing, hurt lacing his words as he asks why are you trying to punch me? Are you mad at me? What did I do?

And in a different voice, though still somber are you on your period?

And although you have a few choice words to spit at him, all kinds of answers popping into your mind immediately, there’s just something about the way he’s slumped over, shoulders drooping and defeated, the downturn of his lips and the soulful look in his eye that have you unable to speak, the words simply not rolling off of your tongue.

Jin waits for a moment, expecting a barrage of hatred to spew from you, but nothing comes. And so, with careful fingers and slow movements, he slowly lets go of your hand, watching with careful eyes for your next move.

When you don’t swing at him again, Jin takes a step back, the action looking like it physically pains him.

It’s late, we should get to bed. It’s silent again for a moment, but then he moves towards the couch.

Listen, I don’t want to be the bad guy, but tonight you’ve gotta, uh, you’ve gotta sleep here tonight.

You look at him like he’s a little crazy, and he sends you a sorry glance, that same hurt written across his features.

You’ve gotta understand that I’m trying to do what’s best for you, I promise! I know kidnapping you was wrong, but you’re here now and we’ve gotta make the best of it.

God get over it already! It’s already been a month!

You watch with wide eyes as he grabs the blanket off of the back of the sofa, folding it over his arm and gesturing to the furniture.

Sleep here, you’ve gotta learn that hurting me isn’t okay, and neither is hurting yourself so don’t you try anything!

I’ll sleep with an eye open, you hear?

The night is long without the blanket, the apartment’s heating out again as you shiver against the material, using the mangy couch cushions as a makeshift blanket. It’s horrible, and you roll over with a sigh, sure that you’ll never manage to fall asleep in this position but fully knowing that Jin would wake up if you tried to join him in the warm bed. Shutting your eyes and sighing, you again try to drift into sleep – unaware of the way Jin lays in the bed, staring across the room at you with fully awake eyes.

Watching you struggle is torture; he wants more than anything to get up and come bundle you up in the blankets, the sound of your clattering teeth and shivering audible even from his position. But he can’t – not if he wants you to learn your lesson.

Not if he wants you to understand that you absolutely cannot be trying to instigate violence between the two of you – you’re supposed to be a loving couple, happy with one another and perfectly content to live out the rest of your days together.

A punch doesn’t exactly fit that happy dream that Jin has whipped up, and although he knows it’s far off in the future, he fully expects it to become reality one day – you’ve just got to stop fighting it so hard.

And as morning arrives and you both lie in your respective places, neither of you having slept a wink, Jin decides it was worth it. Because when you get out of bed, crawling over to him and asking with that fucking look on your face if you can use the blanket or get in with him, he’s crumbling.

You’ve never asked before – you’ve never used the word ‘please’ with him since being kidnapped, and here you were now, asking him for a favor, politely, sweetly, like you actually appreciate him.

All he can do is stare dumbly at you for a few seconds, but then he’s sputtering out a yes and scotting over, opening up the sheets to expose the beaten-up white tank top he’s sporter and the boxer shorts. Immediately you jump in, the sudden warmth feeling heavenly on your chilled bones, but Jin can only shudder, the feeling of your body so close to his driving him crazy, your smell engulfing his senses and he swears he can even taste you.

He’ll pull you close, experimentally, and when you don’t fight it he’ll let out a slow, long breath, letting his hand rest on your side lightly, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you.

Almost as if you’re not real – and by extension that this sort of fondness you seem to be developing for him isn’t real either. But God, he hopes it is.

OVERALL DANGER:

5/10

Jin is not particularly dangerous.

Mostly, he’s just incredibly and overwhelmingly needy. He’s so sure that he’s not worthy of you, that you’re much too good for him that it causes him to overcompensate, to try much too hard to get you to like him, to get you to want him.

He’s always texting you, running into you at seemingly random places and times, always talking your ear off and looking so genuinely enraptured and intrigued when you respond to him that it’ll make you a little uncomfortable, the intensity in his eyes a bit scary.

He sees you as being something genuinely divine, his idolization of you terrifying in its sheer degree. He spends every free moment trailing behind you, always living in your shadow, pretending with a dopey grin that he’s actually living out your life with you, that you’re somehow aware of him stalking you, that you actually want him to be involved in your day to day life.

(And he only feels a little pathetic about this – his love for you and his intense desire to be recognized by you too strong to bar him from having some dignity and stopping this disturbing obsession.)

He’s always trying to interact with you, becoming addicted to hearing your voice and feeling your attention on him, becoming addicted to the feeling of protecting you, of being needed. And when he eventually snaps and steals you away, Jin only becomes more needy, trying desperately to compensate for the fact that he’s kidnapped you by spoiling you with any gift he can, respecting your privacy and autonomy, trying to keep you as happy as possible given your situation.

And really, while you’ll hate him at first, betrayed beyond belief and scared of this strange new person that seems to have replaced the Jin you knew, eventually you’ll slowly come around. You’ll start to realize just how truly pathetic he is, how he can’t help himself but want you and your attention, and although you’ll hate yourself for it, some part of you will be flattered by how badly he wants you.

Some part of you will be pleased that someone desires you so much that they’ve become such a mess, that they want to please you badly enough that they’re willing to throw their pride out the window for you. You’ll feel guilty and like you’re betraying yourself, but really it’s in your best interest to not fight this new development – because really, while Jin may seem a little scatterbrained and easy to manipulate, he’ll find you if you escape.

And he’ll find you remarkably fast – and although he still won’t hurt you upon your reunion, you’ll come to find that Jin has treated you very, very well. And when that’s suddenly taken away, you’ll find yourself wishing that Jin – your Jin, the one that would steal the stars and sky for you – was back, that he was with you and telling you just how beautiful you are.

You’ll slowly learn that you need him just as badly as he needs you, now – a sentiment that makes Jin beam so brightly that it nearly hurts.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere jin bubaigawara #yandere twice #_lee's profiles #_bnha #_jin bubaigawara #twice x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader

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miraclesabound · 10 months

Text

My Hero

Summary: Luca helps Reader feel better after her date at his restaurant goes to shit.

Pairing: Luca/F!Plus Size!Reader, pre-relationship

Notes: I've been pondering this story for several weeks, and now I'm finally getting it down on paper.

Warnings: Date gone wrong, canon-typical language, self-esteem issues, mention of dirty thoughts, food and dessert descriptions, tiny bit of food kink?, past fat-shaming, still fluffy with a happy ending (mention of future relationship)

Tags: @pettyprocrastination @cinewhore @nolita-fairytale @phoenixhalliwell @grogusmum

"Chef, we have a problem at Table 5."

Luca sighs when Petra tells him this - she's his most trusted waitress, and she can usually handle anything on the floor. "What kind of problem?" he asks.

"The woman's date snuck out on her, and he stuck her with the check." Petra points out into the restaurant space, and Luca sees the patron in question. She's plump and pretty, but the way she's hunched over her table, Luca can tell how upset she is.

"Was the guy acting weird?"

Petra shrugs. "I mean, he was a little under-dressed, and he'd been twitchy. I guess he was looking for his opportunity to dash - he mentioned needing the bathroom, then he disappeared. That said, the lady has been lovely; I just hope this doesn't sour her on this place for good."

"Okay..." Luca ponders a minute, and then he takes his apron off. Calling to his staff, he says, "Chefs, I'll be right back, keep it moving!"

"Yes chef!" "Heard, chef!" Luca smiles to himself; he's always known his team is dependable.

When Petra comes back to check on you, she's not alone - she's accompanied by a striking man with dark blond hair and an attractive lift to his eyebrows.

"Petra, is this the manager?" you ask. "I'm good for the check, I wasn't trying to angle for a discount."

Petra shakes her head. "No ma'am - this is Chef Luca, our head of pastries. He just wanted to chat with you and see how you were doing." She pats your shoulder and takes her leave.

"May I sit?" Luca asks.

"Sure," you say. FUCK, he's cute - up close, you can tell that his nose and jaw could cut glass.

He sits across from you, and his expression is sympathetic. "Petra told me the basics - are you ok?"

"Well, like I said, I'm good for the check - but mostly, I feel stupid," you admit. "All the warning signs were there that this was a set-up."

"Oh?"

"Yeah - I'd known Oliver for five years, and he'd never gone out with anyone who....who's built like me - and then suddenly he says, "Oh, let's go to this great place I heard about, but can you put the reservation under your name?" We get here and Petra asks us about splitting the check - he says there's no need, it'll be just one check, and when I thank him, he says, "No, thank you for coming out." "

You pause, and then you groan in annoyance. "Shit, I bet he heard about me getting my inheritance from my aunt; that's why he knew I could afford this place."

Luca winces - he's heard of some cowardly shit in his time, but this is ridiculous. "That's the worst; I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, but thank you," you say. "Petra was great and it's sweet of you to check in." You pull out your purse. "I'll pay up and be on my way."

"Actually, do you have to go just yet?" Luca asks. "If you're not in a hurry, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

Your mind briefly goes to a dirty place, but thankfully it doesn't show on your face. You put your purse back down and look at him questioningly. "What kind of favor?"

"I have a new dessert I'm working on, but I don't think it's quite right yet. Want to try a few samples and tell me what you think?"

That's not what you were expecting, but you won't argue with a handsome man presenting you with handmade delicacies either. You nod, and Luca signals Petra to the kitchen to get a tray together.

Petra returns with a plate full of different variations on the same dessert, along with a glass of sparkling water for a palate cleanser. Your eyes go wide - there must be a dozen different versions of this miniature treat in front of you. Each piece is unique, either by stacking order or by ingredient proportions.

"You don't mind me eating in front of you?" you ask Luca. Unfortunately, you've had it happen once where someone made oinking noises while you ate, and you've never quite lived it down.

"I wouldn't be in this business if I did," he reassures you.

"Ok, that's fair." Looking down at your platter, you decide to start from the left top corner and work your way down each column. It's hard not to notice Luca's eyes on you as you go through, but you figure he's just gauging your reactions.

It's all absolutely delicious, but there are samples that particularly stand out. When you're done, you have your answer. "Keeping in mind that I am the opposite of a professional at this sort of thing," you say, "I think if you took the stacking order of the third one - plum then chocolate then cookie - but then used the proportions of the seventh one where it's heavier on the chocolate than the other ingredients ... I think you'd have a winner."

Luca breaks out into a smile that makes your heart flutter. "I can see that," he agrees. "I'll test a full size version - and maybe you'd like to come back and try it tomorrow?"

"...Chef, are you asking for a food taster or for something else?" After the stunt Oliver pulled on you, you don't want any confusion.

"Well, let me put it this way," Luca says, helping you to your feet and hooking your purse over your shoulder. "If you were to come back tomorrow...there would be dinner before the new dessert premieres - if you're up for that?" He's still holding onto the strap of your bag, and it means you're looking right in his eyes.

"I am," you tell him with a smile. "And even if there weren't dinner, I'd still owe you for saving my night, so...yes. I'll be back tomorrow."

Years later, you and Luca still can't agree which of those nights actually counts as your first date. If someone were to ask Luca, he says it was the first night when you tried his desserts. If that same person were to ask you, you would say the dinner the next night was the change because that's when you had your first kiss.

Petra, who's no stranger to these conversations after all these years, keeps her opinions to herself - but in her mind, you're both off the mark. From what she could tell, Luca was yours as soon as he'd looked at you.

#luca the bear #chef luca x reader #luca x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 28 days

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Am I the asshole for keeping the dog after a breakup? 🐕

I (33F) recently found out my ex (34F) cheated on me with one of our mutual best friends (33F) for over a year. Any attraction and love I had for her evaporated as soon as I found out, she honestly disgusts me. This is relevant because she is using that disgust to try and tell me I'm being unreasonable about the dog and that I'm being difficult because of me hating her now. My "friend" is dead to me btw.

We had been living together for 5 years and I already had two dogs before we started dating. Once my oldest dog passed away we decided to get a new dog a few months after (the dog is now 4 years old).

Since I'm a dog trainer she decided that I should do most of the training and such. I wanted her to raise the dog together but she didn't want to. I mean fine, I like working with dogs and on my own I would have gotten a second dog anyway and done the work on my own as well. But it did irritate me that she would just refuse a lot of basic care because "you do it so much better". The work never was a big deal to me but again, her just cuddling "her" dog and doing nothing towards the long daily walks unless we went together did irritate me mildly. She only wanted to do the "fun" stuff basically. But I don't like confrontation and just left it at that. But all in all, I did 90% of the care.

Now to the current issue. She wants the youngest dog in the split. I refused. I can keep the dog legally because all vet bills are on my name, I order the food and pay the dog taxes (that is a thing here in case people are wondering). I also was the one initially paying for the dog at the breeder. So legally the dog is mine.

I do see she loves the dog very much and she always has her on her lap in the evening while reading. I may think very ugly thoughts of her but she is kind to animals and I don't think she would ever purposefully hurt then. Maybe she will be able to take care of her properly and actually give her what she needs (she is a working line Border Collie) but I'm having my doubts. Plus I work and train a lot with my dogs and I do not want to loose them at all. So I flat out refused and told her I understand it's hard but I think the dog is better off with me and I will not be discussing it further.

Also there is not really a risk of her stealing the dog, I already moved out and have both dogs with me.

So, am I the asshole?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bangtanficsforyou · 1 year

Text

They Reject You (maknae line)

Pairing: maknae line x reader (fuckboi! Jimin x Reader, Co-worker Taehyung x Reader, Idol Jungkook x Reader)

Warnings: swear words here and there.

Word count: 4.6K

Park Jimin

"Well if it isn't my favourite girl." A voice slurs slowly, right next to your ears which makes you flinch in surprise.

"Jimin, gosh, what's wrong with you?" You say in an annoyed manner, immediately recognising the person. "Also, maybe keep some distance?"

Jimin pouts exaggeratedly and puts extra effort into widening his eyes for special effects. "Don't you find me being this close to you, heart racing-ly desirable?"

"Heart racing-ly? That's a new one," you snort and roll your eyes. "But to answer your question; no. It is not heart racing-ly desirable."

"Lie all you want but we all know the truth," Jimin smirks and you can't help but wonder how on earth he manages to remain this cocky even when drunk.

"Cut the crap and stop wasting my time." You turn around to leave, not wanting to give Jimin the time of your day. From your previous experiences, you know that Jimin only ever causes trouble.

"I'm not feeling good, Y/N," he whines, all cockiness suddenly gone from his tone as he pleads gently. "Don't leave me."

You contemplate for a split second before huffing in defeat. "What do you mean by you're not feeling good?"

"I don't know," he shrugs with a sad frown. "I just don't feel good."

Instinctively, you place your palms on his forehead only to find his skin to be burning hot.

"Jimin!" You exclaim, your feelings of indifference instantly turning into that of concern. "You have high fever."

"That might explain why I was feeling so hot," he nods. "But I thought that was because of how attractive I am."

Any other time, you would have retorted with a comeback but right now you pay no attention to his words. "Come with me, we need to get you back to your room. You need rest."

Much to your surprise, Jimin doesn't throw a protest and lets you hold his hand as you make way for the both of you through the partying crowd.

Thankfully his room is only upstairs (one of the many pros of being a frat boy living in a frat house) and you don't have much trouble getting there.

Making Jimin sit on the bed, you look for medicines that can help with his fever. "How long have you been feeling unwell?"

"For about an hour."

You have half a mind to lecture him on how drinking should be the last thing he should have done while feeling unwell, but you decide to keep it in. Maybe when he's sober and in a better health condition, you will give him an earful.

Right now, it's more important to understand the severity of the situation.

"Did you stay out for too long at night? Or stayed with wet clothes on? Or something that might have led to you having a fever?"

Jimin's drunk mind feels perplexed by the series of questions you're throwing his way. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does," you respond shortly.

As a nursing student, you know how important it is to know the source of any sickness. If his fever can be tracked down to any possible cause, you'd have this reassurance that there's most likely nothing to worry about. However, if the fever seems to have appeared out of nowhere, there are chances that it may be a symptom of some underlying infection.

Your response makes Jimin think. Has he done anything in recent days that could have led to this? At first, nothing comes to mind. But after a few moments of intense brainstorming, something clicks in his brain.

"Does having two hours of shower sex count?" He queries seriously.

Your hands momentarily falter on their journey of looking for the first aid box but you recover quickly.

"Should have expected something like that from you," you grumble in annoyance.

"Don't be mean," he complains in a whine. "It's not my fault that the sex was so good. Plus, she kept asking for more and you know I can't say no to that."

You slam the drawer shut and aggressively open the box, having finally found it. You take out a tablet and hand it over to Jimin with a glass of water.

Once Jimin has taken the medicine, you arrange the pillows for him and take a blanket out. "Go to sleep. Let your body have some rest."

"Are you leaving?" He asks in a quiet voice, reminding you of a small child asking a question they already know the answer to.

"I don't think I have any purpose being here. I'll ask Jungkook to stay with you in case you need something."

"Jungkook won't take care of me the way you do," Jimin replies with a huff, thoroughly displeased with the idea of you leaving him.

"That's not my issue," you shrug.

Jimin switches to his last option, one that works every time and on everyone; his famous, irresistible puppy eyes. "Do you not have any sympathy for me?"

You scoff, your patience running thin. You really don't want to have a fight or speak your mind while he's having a fever, but if he continues to prod you this way, he will be responsible for the inevitable outburst.

Jimin feels unhappy with your lack of response and he attempts once again. "Won't you do this much for me? Please?"

That's it. The way his soft voice pulls at your heartstrings does it for you.

"Can you, for once, not think only for yourself?" You snap.

Now that was not the reaction Jimin was expecting. "What do you mean?"

"Don't try to play dumb," you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Don't tell me you have no idea how I feel about you."

Although drunk, Jimin's mind registers the seriousness of your words and he immediately looks sheepish. "I don't."

Well, that's a lie and both you and Jimin know it.

A sarcastic smile appears on your face. "I'll spell it out for you, again. I like you Jimin."

Jimin looks down and starts fiddling with the end of the bedsheets as he nods, having no other response.

You sigh, wondering why you expected any other, perhaps a more thoughtful reaction from him. Feeling disappointed with yourself, you make your way out without another word.

On your way, however, you make sure to find Jungkook and ask him to look after Jimin.

Once you're out of the frat house and have booked a cab to your rented apartment, you sit on a small bench and take a deep inhale to relax. Sadly and much to your frustration, the emotions that have come to the surface refuse to let you have your peace of mind.

You really should have stayed away from Jimin, from the very start.

Your brain chimes at you and it reminds you that perhaps there's no one else to be blamed but you. You are the one who has been entertaining Jimin all in the name of not entertaining him.

It was a frat party much similar to that of today's when Jimin had first tried to add your name to the long list of girls he has had sex with. You were surprised, caught off guard and admittedly a little flattered by his flirtatious actions but irrespective of that, you weren't willing to be a part of his list.

You had asked him to fuck off and to leave you alone. Which he had done at the time but only to return later with much more determination to win you over. By then, you weren't feeling flattered by his repeated attempts, you were annoyed. Something, which Jimin found amusing.

The more he tried, the more your annoyance flared and so did Jimin's amusement. It went like this for a couple of weeks.

Things started to change when you stumbled upon a drunk Jimin sitting alone on the terrace. That was the first time the both of you had a proper conversation with each other. It made you realise that the whole fuckboy thing he has going on, is only a small part of him. You realised that there's much more to the guy than what meets the eye.

From then on you stopped treating him like a guy whose sole identity was that of the 'campus fuckboy'.

That doesn't mean that his actions stopped annoying you. But you sure found it more tolerable.

However, exactly when your feelings for him turned romantic, remains debatable. Was it the night when he drunkenly kissed you? Or was it when he drunkenly confessed that he enjoys your company more than anyone else's? You don't know.

But you do remember, exactly when you realised that your feelings for him don't fall under the category of platonic. It was when you saw Jimin making out with a petite blonde in a bar. The pain and jealousy that shot through your veins was an indication enough for you to see how your feelings have bloomed into something more.

You, upon realising, did not hesitate to confess. His response to your confession was simple. He does not do relationships and he sees you as a friend.

You could do with that. You weren't expecting Jimin to return your feelings or to commit to you. After all, you were well aware of his lifestyle and how he likes having lovers instead of a lover.

The only reason you had confessed to him was in hopes that he would stop trying to bed you and realise that it isn't just fun and games for you anymore.

Unfortunately, Jimin didn't stop with his antics.

Annoyed and angry, you had decided to cut Jimin off. But of course, he wouldn't have that. He would, in some way or the other, sneak into your daily life and cause a ruckus as if it were his birthright.

Truth be told, you weren't hurt by his rejection as much as you were by his total disregard for your feelings and how his actions and choices could affect you.

The events from today serve as another example of the kind of emotional turmoil he stirs within you. The question is how long will you put up with this?

Your cab honks to announce its arrival and it causes you to break out of your thoughts. You give a small nod to the man in the driving seat and get up. As you walk towards the cab, you make up your mind.

You're not going to entertain him any longer.

Kim Taehyung

You: that's very mean of you 👿

You type with a wide grin plastered on your face.

Tae 🐻: mean? me? Never 🥺

You: putting that emoji won't help you 👿

Tae 🐻: ☹️

Tae 🐻: I sent you the snap of the chocolate because it reminded me of you 😔

You: that was NOT your intention 😤

You: you do this every time and then i start craving chocolates 😭

Tae 🐻: then have some 🙇

You: i have to complete the excel sheet by today :(:

You: which mean i can't go out

You: and if I opt for ordering online, I'll end up ordering a bunch of other stuff along with it and that won't be good for my wallet

Tae 🐻: awwww

Tae 🐻: It's okay! I'll bring you chocolates tomorrow

Tae 🐻: from your favourite brand 😉

You: you sweetheart 🥺

Tae 🐻: says the sweetest ❤️

A bashful giggle escapes from your lips when you read his text. He sure has a way with words.

You: now let me do my work

You: shoo

Tae: ☹️

Tae: I'm being chased away

Tae: but okay xD

Tae: I'll let you get back to it.

You bite on your lower lip to stop smiling like a fool and try to focus your attention on the computer screen. Keyword; try.

The butterflies in your stomach and the fluttering of your heart make it extremely difficult for you to think about anything else that's not Taehyung.

Gosh, he really is the greatest distraction of them all.

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

The next day, you find a big pack of chocolate from your favourite brand, on your desk. Attached to it is a note that reads for my favourite girl ;). You smile involuntarily and wonder what you ever did to deserve someone like Taehyung in your life.

You sit on your chair and while the computer boots, you take a small bite from the chocolate bar. As you relish the sweetness that spreads in your mouth, you can't help but think of Taehyung and how much he has come to mean to you, in the few months that you have known him.

When he first joined the company he was shy, barely talking to anyone and having a hard time socialising with his co-workers. It took him about a couple of weeks to get comfortable and once he did, there was no going back. He somehow became everyone's favourite.

However, the way you two became friends is a bit different.

Four months ago, on a fortunate day, there was a huge mishap with the data files. Small groups were formed to work on the mistakes and correct them as necessary. As fate would have it, you and Taehyung were a team. And the amount of jokes you two made about your higher-ups, were perhaps the only source of energy for you both to carry on with the work and ultimately, finish it.

And those three intense working days were enough for the two of you to become friends.

It started with having small conversations via text, which then turned into full lengthy regular conversations. In the midst of all of that, when the flirting began, you have no clue. All you remember are those nights when you stayed up late, talking to him and smiling into your pillow, feeling like a teenager.

He would sneak little compliments and warm affectionate words that would have you looking like a tomato in a matter of seconds.

Most importantly, he has become one of your closest friends. He has been there whenever you needed him and has confided in you whenever he faced challenges. The bond you two share is something you treasure deeply. He has become such an integral part of your life that there hardly goes by a day when the two of you don't talk to each other.

It's one of those 'more than friends' but 'not really dating' scenarios.

You had never given much thought about giving a label to what the two of you were. You were happy having him the way you do. But recently, you can't help but think of taking things to the next level. You find yourself wondering what it would be like to call him your boyfriend.

As the all too familiar windows tune plays, notifying you of the booting process being completed, you decide to subtly ask him about it.

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

"Did you like the chocolates?" That's the first thing Taehyung asks as you take the seat opposite to him.

"Do you think I would not like it?" You answer his question with a question of your own. Because honestly, that's a very silly question to ask. Anyone who knows you knows how much you love chocolates.

Taehyung grins, his boxy smile making an appearance. "I mean, it would still be nice to hear it from you."

"Well, then, I loved it."

He nods, satisfied with your answer. Placing one of his hands on his chest, right above his heart, he bows. "I'm honoured to know that."

You chuckle softly, endeared at his actions. "How was your day so far?"

He rolls his eyes. "Eh, the usual. Mina got some files messed up and I had to do twice the work to fix that."

"That sucks," you grimace. "Work has been so tiring lately, I wish we could take a small break from all this shit."

"Oh, that reminds me–" Taehyung exclaims suddenly, startling you, "–I have got these free tickets to a movie, would you like to go with me?"

Excitement bubbles in your stomach. "Sure! I'd love to."

"Then it's set! I'll let you know of the date and time later, okay?"

You nod, feeling giddy at the thought of watching a movie with him. It won't be the first time for sure, but it has been a while since the two of you last did something like this. Work hardly leaves any spare time for rest and fun.

However, the thought of spending some alone time with him, makes your mind go back to what you had decided while you were devouring the chocolate. You clear your throat before bringing the topic to the table. "Tae?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing?"

He looks up from his food, with a confused smile. "What do you mean by that? We are eating lunch."

You shake your head softly, and make your question more obvious. "What are we?"

You see as his confusion clears out and his smile fades. A look of discomfort appears on his face as he swallows the food. "Well, we are friends."

"Are we just friends though?" You raise a brow in question, not willing to accept his answer.

A soft sigh escapes his lips when he realises he can't really back out of this or push the conversation away for some time later. "You aren't just a friend to me. I like you. I like you a lot."

You stay quiet, sensing that there's a but coming.

"But I don't think I'm ready to be in a relationship." He adds, figuring out that there's no way to put it subtly.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting and naturally, you feel disheartened by his words.

Taehyung notices the way your face has dropped and he immediately feels guilty. "I know I should have told you this before. My intentions weren't to string you along, I genuinely do like you–"

"Then why?" You cut him off, confused and unable to understand what could be the issue if he really likes you the way he claims to.

"I am scared it will distract me from my career."

Your first instinct is to counter his statement and say, it doesn't work that way. That relationships are not a distraction. But you hold yourself back from saying so.

If he believes that having a relationship will distract him, you cannot force or persuade him to believe otherwise. If anything, you understand where he might be coming from. He has only recently joined the company and you know he has experienced financial issues while growing up. You can see why he might be scared of something making him lose his focus. Having an established career is what he wants and what seems to be his priority.

Although you have been hoping and looking forward to putting a label, you know you can't expect that from him anymore. You could try and ask him to reconsider his choices but what good would that do?

Even if he were to get into a relationship, he would most likely still have that thought in the back of his mind and will keep worrying about getting sidetracked. What's the point of committing to someone if you can't really enjoy it to the fullest? What is the point of calling someone yours, if you can't fully feel the beauty of it? You see none.

"Maybe, we can wait for each other?" He suggests meekly, too scared to see what your reaction to the question is.

Now, waiting for each other and whatnot sounds really romantic in movies and romcoms but you have to remind yourself that this is not a movie. In real life, irrespective of the intentions the individuals may hold, somewhere along the line, something usually happens that causes chaos and turns things sour.

"How about we just let things flow and see where it takes us?" You suggest as that seems like the best possible choice at the moment.

Taehyung nods knowing he's in no place to bargain. He will take whatever you will give him. However, it bugs him to no end when you spend the rest of the lunch in silence and with a frown on your face.

Jeon Jungkook

"Can you sit still for a moment?"

The person in question, aka Jungkook, pays no attention to your words and hollers when something exciting occurs on the screen of his mobile phone.

You sigh and place your palms on both of his cheeks and make him look up. However, the adorable sight of his squished cheeks, pouty lips and doe eyes wide in surprise, has you snorting. When you let go of your hold, he frowns, offended by your laughter.

"What's so funny about my face?" He grumbles.

You shake your head and apply blush on his cheeks. "You just looked like a real bunny for a second there, couldn't help but laugh at that."

He pouts. "That's supposed to be cute, not funny."

A fond smile appears on your face at his displeasure. "You're both cute and funny, I guess."

Jungkook grins at you, now satisfied. "Now make me cuter."

"I'll be able to do that if you stay still for a moment," you retort.

Jungkook huffs and closes his eyes. "Fine! I'll stay still."

You hum in response and get to work.

Being Jungkook's make-up artist was fairly easy. You just had to make his beautiful face appear flawless for the cameras. Nothing too difficult. Jungkook was friendly and so were the other BTS members. The pay was, of course, more than satisfactory.

Recently, however, being Jungkook's make-up artist hasn't been easy. It hasn't been easy being this close to him and keeping the fluttering of your heart under control. It hasn't been easy to see his eyes this up close and not let yourself get lost in them. It hasn't been easy to notice that small mole under his lips and resist the urge to kiss it. Oh no, it hasn't been easy at all.

One might call you unprofessional and to be honest, you don't have much to defend yourself with. Rather, if someone questions your professionalism, you'd challenge them to take your job and not fall for the guy.

You think it's simply impossible.

But you see, that's the simple part. Falling. The consequences of falling, however, are where the complications begin.

The very first question that comes to mind is; what are the chances that they might feel the same? Then one realises that there's no way to answer this for sure as it's only the other person who's aware of what they feel. Which leads to a major dilemma; to confess or not to confess.

Confessing your feelings is a very vulnerable thing to do. It feels like exposing yourself at one's mercy. Like a delicate bud that you hand over and whether the flower will bloom or wilt, totally depends on the other person.

It's beautiful yet scary.

For a long time, you haven't been willing to be that vulnerable with Jungkook.

All anxieties that come with confessing aside, you can't ignore the fact that he's a world-famous idol.

You are not worried about word getting out about you falling for him. You hardly think that it will cause a stir. If anything, the fans will probably make memes out of it and will agree with you on how impossible it is to not fall for the guy. The memes will be all over the internet for a few months and after that, they will be gone and will resurface every once in a while. That doesn't seem like much to you and you think you can handle it.

What does worry you is word getting out and you getting fired and not getting a job henceforth (you're pretty sure that the agencies won't take up on your 'don't fall for Jungkook' challenge).

This particular fear is what has been holding you back from letting Jungkook know of your feelings.

However, the thing with love is, you cannot bury it no matter how hard you try. It's like the sun that comes out to shine no matter what. Love blooms in the heart and it refuses to stay hidden for too long behind whatever fears the mind comes up with.

After all, in the battle of mind and heart, when has the former ever won?

Once you're done with the finishing touches, you let Jungkook know that you're done.

Jungkook opens his eyes and they automatically land on yours. The sharp spike in your breathing rate and the loud thumping of your heartbeat, makes you look away immediately.

You clear your throat and take a slow deep inhale to calm your racing heart. "I'll put the lip balm and foundation in the kit. Just in case you need it."

"You say that every time before a performance as if you're not going to be backstage," he chuckles in amusement.

"Jungkook, the performance is in fifteen," Taehyung says loudly from the other side of the room.

It's like a switch being flipped on. Jungkook's eyes widen and he gets up from his seat instantly. Bidding you a quick goodbye, he exits the room in a hurry.

You sigh in relief, finally feeling like you can breathe again. Taking a seat on the chair previously occupied by Jungkook, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You notice the red hue on your cheeks and your lips part in awe at how flustered you look. Almost, as if you have run a mile.

Something about this moment makes you come to a quick decision. For a long time, you have been toying with the idea of confessing but have always backed out every time you had a chance. But not anymore.

You grab a small piece of paper and a pen and write down what you have been wanting to tell Jungkook.

You make it direct and simple and put it in Jungkook's handbag.

The moment you zip the chain, you feel this urge to take the chit out and throw it in the dustbin but you somehow, withhold yourself from doing so.

You are aware that he won't notice the chit until he's back in his dorms. The bag contains all the skin care products (handpicked by you) he uses before going to bed. Which also means you would have to wait until tomorrow when you're back to work to know Jungkook's answer.

Seems like it's gonna be a sleepless night for you.

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

The next day, you go to work with nervous excitement. While in the car, you couldn't wait for your destination to arrive yet at the same time dreaded it. It's this mixed feeling where you can't decide what you want but in the end, realise that it's better to just get over it.

However, while you're walking towards Jungkook's make-up room, Namjoon calls your name.

"Y/N," he shouts to get your attention. Once he notices he has it, he walks up to you. "My dressing room is the other way."

"I know that," you say with a small frown, wondering why he is telling you this.

"Oh," Namjoon realises that you're unaware of the changes. "You don't know, do you?"

You shake your head, your confusion only increasing. "Know what?"

"Jungkook has requested a new make-up artist. So now, you're in charge of my make up," he replies.

Namjoon's words ring in your ears and you feel the world around you fade. You knew that there was always the chance that he doesn't feel the same way. You knew if that were the case it'd hurt but you'd accept it. However, you didn't expect Jungkook to do this.

It feels like the unbloomed flower has been stomped by someone and you're left to feel the crushing pain.

A/N: if you wish to support me and want to have early access to all my works, consider visiting my patreon!

#Jungkook reaction #Jungkook angst #Jungkook scenarios #Idol Jungkook #Jungkook au #Taehyung reaction #Taehyung angst #Co-worker Taehyung #Taehyung au #Jimin reaction #Jimin angst #Jimin scenario #Fuckboy Jimin #Jimin au

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