#do you ever volunteer for things? do you ever actually. give a fuck about things?
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mfs cant even dress. fuckin. wearing basketball shorts and a nondescript t shirt and short ass hair and have the gall to make fun of other people for dressing different. okay background character
#ok least memorable guy in the room#oh? oh what josh? do you play sports? you real good at your sports ball?#you smoke weed after school n shit? listen to rap music?#and thats your entiiiiiiiiiiiiiire personality. lol. lmao.#oh and its mainstream rap too. like wiz khalifa or somethin. and you never listen deeply to the lyrics or what they say#you only listen to it to feel cool while you smoke your weed.#oh and i bet you make having a care a personality too since theres literally absolutely nothing else remarkable about your character#car*#do ya go fishing? maybe like guns? maybe you just got a dog recently. wow. a real step forward for you and your empty ass soulless life#do you ever volunteer for things? do you ever actually. give a fuck about things?#do you have a hobby outside of sports? do you spend literally any time alone introspecting?#do you cope with life by drinking and vaping with your pals to avoid having to ever have a thought or feel an ounce of regret for being a#piece of shit?#crazy how i can read you like the back of my hand tyler josh stevenson#and by golly do you never question the ethicality of owning a lawn either. thats never crossed your mind. because giving af about anything#has never crossed your mind besides yourself#wonder how dissapointed your mom is in you but never tells you outright#she prolly hoped you would become more. stay a nice sweet little boy. but naur#ya didn't. and now you're pinning after celebrities who wear designer brands. because your life is empty and soulless.#too mean? eh. he needs to hear it.
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motive
PAIRING choi san x f!reader
WORD COUNT 3.37k
GENRES kinda fluff ig﹒smut
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, friends to lovers, reader is lowkey down horrendous, but san is too i guess, um tbh this is just porn with minimal plot… 😭, reader gets jealous, Tension, i can’t think of anything else for the tame aspect so, making out, exhibitionism, soft dom!san, marking-ish, scratching, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, they’re like kinda clumsy in the way that everything is a fucking joke to them, actually a lot of kissing, san’s a sweet talker, public sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (pls be safe), creampie, cutesy ending
SUMMARY it’s annoying that your gym partner constantly gets flirted with right in front of you, especially when you have a crush on said gym partner. good thing your gym partner has a crush on you, too.
MORE HELLO oh my god okay, this is my first written fic on this blog and im actually so nervous posting it… but fuck it! we ball! this wasn’t originally the first fic i was gonna post but,,, the other one is still marinating in the drafts so you get mr. choi san instead <3 ALSO THANK U SM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HELLO. my blog is 2 weeks old that’s insanity 🤕 big thank u to the loml @kimsohn for betaing for me ilysm maya <<3 pls reblog if u enjoyed and pls moot me :( i need more atiny friends 💔
“Wow, San, you’re so strong,”
You scoff to yourself as you watch the trio of girls surround him, dainty fingers touching anywhere they can. He laughs sheepishly, shifting his seat on the weight bench. You think it’s funny, really, the fact that he was eating up their attention and acting like he was so shy about it. He was supposed to be your gym partner.
With a small grunt, you take the dumbbells in front of you and focus on your form in the mirror. You make attempt after attempt to ignore the commotion behind you, but ultimately fail. How could you not stare with all the obnoxious giggling? Even as you lunge, eyes zeroed in on the perfect 90° angle your legs make, you can still make out the group’s reflection in the mirror.
Every drag of a manicured nail along his bicep, each twirl of hair, it was pissing you off. You had no real right to be mad, though. It’s not like San was your boyfriend or anything. You were just friends, and he’d volunteered to help you out when you mentioned struggling at the gym. What started as him spotting you when needed and giving tips to help improve your workouts, turned into waiting around for him to stop flirting with the girls who flocked over to him.
Maybe you were being a bit dramatic. It’s not like this happened every time you came to the gym, but it was enough to be irritating. There was also a very high probability that it ticked you off so much because you had a crush on San yourself. Your infatuation was less superficial, however. Yes, he was an attractive man, that was one fact that couldn’t be refuted, but there was more to him than his big muscles and handsome face.
You’d known San since you met in your first year Anthropology course. This was way before he started hitting the gym and building his physique. He used to be this thin, pretty boy. Girls thought he was cute, but that was about it. No one was jumping at the chance to ask him out, or giggling at his every word. No one except for you.
He was not only cute, but he was sweet and funny and just about every good quality you could think of. You didn’t want to be one of those people who thought you were special because you knew him before his insane bodily transformation, though in a way you were. San was your good friend above anything else, and you had a fear instilled in you that that’s all he would ever be. The idea made your stomach churn.
”Do you think you could bench me?”
A sigh pushes past your lips when you see one of the girls get a little closer to him. You’re over working out at this point, ready to just call it a day and go home. What were you doing here if your partner was going to ignore you the entire time? You set the dumbbells back on their respective rack, grabbing your phone and water bottle while simultaneously turning up the volume on your headphones to drown out everything around you.
You don’t bother telling San that you’re leaving, making your way into the changing rooms to grab the rest of your things from your locker. The frown etched onto your face as you do so serves as a reminder that he would never see you in that way. Perhaps you were perpetually stuck as the girl space friend. With a giant emphasis on the space.
There’s a gentle grasp around your wrist, making you jump in surprise. You turn around with wide eyes, pushing your headphones off your ears. San stares back at you with an unreadable expression, lips slightly pursed.
”God, San, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you hold a hand to your chest, heaving up and down a little.
”I tried calling your name, but you didn’t hear me,” he shrugs, releasing your arm and shoving his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ready to leave?”
”You looked busy.” Really, you wanted to hide the jealousy and bitterness from your tone, but ultimately failed, even throwing in an unintentional scrunch of your nose. It feels like your heart dropped to your stomach, resembling a prey caught by its predator when you realize the connotation behind your words.
San smiles at you, a smug grin that’s so out of character for him, you’re a little nervous now. He takes a step forward and you back up until you reach the lockers, one of his hands coming up to rest on the surface near your head. A small chuckle breaches the sound barrier, his eyes drinking in your figure like he might never get the opportunity to do it again. “Y/N… are you jealous?”
Instinctively, you shake your head. What he doesn’t know can’t kill him. But then he’s raising an eyebrow in question and you feel like a puppy with its tail between its legs. You blink up at him, nails digging into your palms to keep your composure. “Should I be?”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, that same cocky smirk on his features. He knows what he’s doing, you think to yourself. He has you cornered and he’s using it to his advantage. The hand that isn’t holding his weight comes up to your face, fingers gliding along your jaw with a feather light touch. “No, I don’t think so. The only girl who’s attention I really care about is right where I want her.”
Your breathing stutters, halting in your throat and momentarily winding you. Choi San might very well be the death of you. Especially with that darkened look in his eyes, the chocolate brown color now resembling the night sky. His thumb swipes across your lower lip, letting it resume its original place. “What do— what do you mean by that?”
He was giving you a bone, a hint that he could potentially feel the same as you, but you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted the words to leave his mouth and verbally confirm that for you. Want wasn’t even good enough. You needed it.
“There’s no way you don’t know,” San says, voice hushed. “No way that you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you since first year.”
Something similar to a choked groan departs from you, your pulse racing in your ears, thumping beneath your chest. You’re too stunned to move, frozen in your spot in case this is all some fucked up dream. It doesn’t even occur to you that someone could walk in, doesn’t even cross your mind that you’re in too public of a setting for this conversation or where it could go.
“I don’t— I didn’t…” Your eyes attempt to stay on his, but keep flickering down to his mouth.
“It was so hard for me to play nice guy for so long,” he whispers, a pout adorning his expression. “And today? I couldn’t even stare at you shamelessly because of those damn girls. It’s so fucking annoying when they bother me while I’m trying to flirt with you. But since I’m Nice Guy San, I can’t be rude.”
“You flirt with me?” You snort, your shell shock wearing off and a goofy smile worming its way onto your face. He laughs along with you, tilting away to hide the warmth blooming on his cheeks. The tension is still present, but it’s a lot more bearable.
”I guess I’m not very good at it if you couldn’t even tell,” he glances down at his feet, the confident San from before long gone and now replaced by a bashful version. “Am I going crazy, or is this gonna go somewhere? I don’t want to misread anything and ruin what we already have. The ball is entirely in your court.”
It’s your turn to be shy, shrinking in on yourself slightly. Acknowledging that you had feelings for San was a separate can of worms. There was a big difference between him confessing to you and vice versa. You know if given the stage, you’d just start blabbering on and on about how you feel for him, and that would just be embarrassing for both of you. So instead you say, “Can I show you?”
When he nods, your fingers raise to his jaw, cupping it gently as you lean up. Your lips brush his softly, barely grazing them. His eyes flutter shut, a shiver running down his spine simply from your kiss. A pleasant buzz courses through your veins from your lips to the tips of your fingers. You’ve wanted this forever, you don’t think you could ever go back.
You pull back and San fists the fabric of your t-shirt on your waist, eyes still closed as he chases your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N, can I kiss you again?”
“Please,” you whine, enveloping your lips with his as soon as you get the green light. This time is desperate, noses bumping each other. You’re going lightheaded and dizzy, already intoxicated by him. Your back presses into the lockers behind you, arching into his chest for more.
He deepens the kiss and it’s almost too much. You’re overwhelmed by the emotions taking control of you, not at all prepared for what would come with actually being with San. It had always been a distant fantasy, something that felt so completely out of reach that you didn’t dare let yourself indulge in the notion for too long. The way his lips lock with yours, fluidly and synchronously like missing pieces of a puzzle, you think you can die happily.
“As hot as it would be to fuck you right here, I’d rather not get kicked out of this gym,” he chuckles breathlessly. “And since we’re both sweaty from working out, I think we could use a shower. Don’t you?”
You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, nodding frantically at his suggestion. Though you imagined your first time with San being in a bed, slow and sensual, you’d be so stupid to complain about this. Fucking in one of the gym showers, where anyone could hear you? Go big or go home.
He scopes the area to ensure the coast is clear before hauling you into one of the stalls, dragging the curtain shut. You kiss roughly between removing articles of clothing, San turning on the water while his lips make quick work of your neck. Goosebumps form on your skin when the cool water hits it, your fingers combing through his wet hair as he sucks harsh marks into your collarbone and sternum.
“You’re so gorgeous, babe,” he mutters into your skin, nipping lightly at the tops of your tits. One of his hands travels south, sliding through your folds with ease. He rubs tight circles into your clit, prodding at your entrance with his ring finger. “I need you to cum for me once before I fuck you for real, okay?”
“Mhm,” you moan quietly, hiking one of your legs around his waist. His finger pushes inside you to the knuckle and then curls. Your eyes all but roll to the back of your head, back arching off of the tiled wall. “Feels so good, San…”
“Yeah?” He smiles against your skin, trailing pecks up your neck and along your jawline. You whimper in his ear, cunt sucking in his finger greedily. He adds a second, the middle one, and applies pressure to your clit with the heel of his palm. The sight of you falling apart by his hand alone is sending blood rushing to his brain.
Your body feels hot to the touch, risking a downwards glance at where his fingers disappear into your pussy. It forces another whine out of you, your head tossing back. You tug at the strands of hair that stick to the nape of his neck, steeling yourself the only way you can in this position. San just seemed to know you, to know exactly what you needed without you having to tell him. Either he was really good at guessing, or everything he did seemed to be perfect, because you’ve never climbed to the summit this quickly before.
There’s a knot in the pit of your stomach that weaves itself tighter and tighter with each curl of his digits and each swirl of his thumb on your clit. You think you could cry from how attentive he was, from how determined he was to provide you pleasure. Your cunt contracts around his fingers, and he can sense the precipice of your orgasm, speeding up his pace.
You squirm around in his hold, allowing him to spread apart your thighs so he can brush the pads of the digits buried inside of you up against that spongy sweet spot. You’re trembling now, nearing the edge of that familiar cliff. “San, baby, I’m— god— I’m so close,”
“Let go for me, my love.” He coos into the corner of your mouth, hushing your moans. He doesn’t slow his assault, inching you further and further towards your release like it was his own personal mission. That knot in your belly begins to unravel until it slips through your grasp completely, your orgasm rocking into you like a tidal wave.
San aids you as you ride out your high, already spent before he’s even gotten the chance to be inside of you. He kisses you tenderly, pulling out his fingers with caution since you were still so sensitive. Your nails claw down his front, scratching his abdomen with a purpose. He shudders beneath you, lips curling up into another soft smile.
“What?” You ask with a giggle, mirroring his expression when he wipes water from your face.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, grin unwavering. “You just look really pretty like this.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get into my pants, Choi San.” You tease, yanking him down for a saccharine kiss. He reciprocates without hesitation, drawing his palm on your thigh so he can wrap it around his waist again.
“Me? Never…” He laughs along your mouth. “Is it working, though?”
You roll your eyes playfully, reconnecting your lips. “Are you gonna fuck me for real now?”
“What kinda question is that?” He glides the tip of his cock between your folds, shutting you up instantaneously. He’s heavy where he sits, slipping the shaft through your lower lips. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you forget where you are, baby.”
Before you can even let out another sound of appreciation, he’s stretching you out, cock thrusting up into your pussy without warning. You jump up a bit to hook your other leg around his hips so he’s supporting your whole weight. The new angle makes it easier for him to delve deeper in your cunt, his dick accessing places you’d never knew existed.
After he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his length, he starts to move, pistoning in and out of you much more forcefully than he did with his fingers. Your lips part for a voluminous moan, but then you hear a group of loud girls entering the shower area and San slaps a hand over your mouth. He makes no effort to stop, fucking into you without a single care for the people on the other side of the shower curtain.
“Did any of you see where San went? He disappeared so fast.”
You recognize the voice as belonging to one of the girls who was openly flirting with San while you were working out. Not even needing to see her, you can picture the exaggerated pout on her face based on her tone alone.
“He probably followed after that stupid bitch he’s always with.”
Your half lidded eyes meet San’s but he still pays no mind to them, digging his nails into your plush thighs. He pulls all the way out, just to slam his cock all the way back in. His pace leisures, but his power doesn’t, abusing your cunt with every snap of his hips.
“I think I’m gonna ask him out next time I see him. I have to stake my claim before someone else does.”
He holds back a laugh, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You drown out their conversation after that, too focused on the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so deliciously to even worry about those idiot girls. Little did they know he was closer than they thought…
Thankfully, they leave not much longer after that, and he uncovers your mouth. You gasp for air, panting feverishly when he picks up his speed again. Your bottom lip quivers with a whine, too fucked out to conjugate words that make sense.
“You’re taking me so well, baby. Taking me like a fucking princess,” San praises. He groans, water droplets slipping along the valleys of his sculpted chest and abdomen. It drips with every roll of his hips and every thrust of his cock into your pussy. This was what he had been building up to, what he’d been dreaming of for years. “Who’s fucking you like this?”
“Mmm,” you moan, supping him in deeper, further, as cavernous as humanly possible. “You, San— fuck— y-you are.”
You arch your back, sneaking a hand in the middle of the two of you and pressing the pads of your fingers harshly on your clit when you do so. San holds you closer to him so your pelvic bones nearly clash each time he punches into you. The change in depth that he fucks you has your cunt squelching, any semblance of coherent thought escaping you.
Your vision goes blank, stars decorating the backs of your eyelids as your second orgasm blindsides you. Not a sound leaves you after it knocks into you, cumming with so much force you think you might pass out in San’s arms. When you’ve finished, you let out a guttural groan, walls fluttering around his cock.
“Gonna cum— shit— where do—“ you interrupt him with a whimper.
“Cum inside of me,” your begging tone has him spilling into you practically on command. He fills you up perfectly, a moan from deep within him reaching your ears. You both stay like that for a moment, skin sticking to the other’s due to the thin sheen of sweat coupled with the steam of the shower coating your bodies.
You can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes, one of your hands coming up to caress his back gently. He pulls out with a wince, palms resting on either side of you as he recuperates. He breathes through his nostrils, forehead glued to your shoulder. His hands rub up and down your sides soothingly.
“It’s safe to assume you’re gonna turn that girl down when she asks you out, right?” You ask suddenly, attempting to diffuse whatever’s in the air between you now. San laughs into your shoulder.
“Y/N, I’m turning down any girl who asks me out from now on,” he stands upright, biting his lip before kissing you gently. “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that very much.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Girlfriend?”
“Am I being too overzealous?” His nose scrunches up.
“You’re being the right amount of zealous, I think,” you brush away a strand of wet hair that falls into his eyes. “But I think your ‘girlfriend’ would like it if you actually asked her to be your girlfriend.”
Choi San is the prettiest man you’ve ever set your sights on, but somehow, he looks even prettier smiling down at you after having sex with you in a gym shower. It’s a feat that should be considered illegal, and you should receive restitution for the distress it’s caused on your heart.
“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”
And well, maybe you’d deal with that later. It was kind of difficult to ignore that sparkle in his eyes, especially when it was directed at you. You nod without a second thought.
“I would love nothing more.”
© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez san#ateez choi san#choi san#choi san x reader#choi san smut#san x reader#san smut#yunhoszn
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you have some really evil, selfish and toxic ideas irt whos allowed to have friends, you know? i see pop psy people like you all the time making lists of things that are clear and obvious trauma induced behaviour, and then immediately flip to how if you have a friend who ever behaves like this they are evil and need to be cut off, theyre not allowed to have support systems to get better! you really hate bad victims, huh? if someone isn't demure and cowering and self effacing in their symptoms they don't deserve anyone? i got assaulted and when my friend group threw me out on my ass and called me too fucked up for acting erratic and strange in the aftermath and being unable to communicate why they used your posts to justify it. its sick that people like you will look at someone uncontrollably acting out their ptsd and go wow you aren't doing this nice enough to be tolerated! people like you talk so much about compassion but when it comes to people in actual crisis you don't give a shit. no, theyre acting too problematic. just cut them off! no one should help their friends!
original post
Please allow me to take this opportunity to make some things clear.
First, you do not know me. You do not know anything about me. You do not know where I've been, where I'm going, or where I am. All that you believe that you know is extrapolated from information I have volunteered to share. Information that is, by clear and honest choice, edited for both safety and personal security. Remember this.
Second, and I say this in the kindest of ways, because I have had to learn this lesson myself:
Nobody Owes You Shit.
Have you ever saved someone from drowning?
I have.
Do you know that a drowning person struggling to get air will instinctively drag you under them?
It's hard to save people in the water. It takes specific skills and knowledge that not everybody has. Not everyone can save a drowning person without drowning in the process.
The lifeguard needs energy, and strength, and expertise, and persistence.
The swimmer needs self-restraint, and composure, and the desire to be helped, and the ability to do what they can to facilitate their own rescue.
I believe in kindness, and generosity, and compassion. I believe in trying persistently, and in giving the benefit of the doubt wherever possible. I believe that people are good, and small, and trying. And I believe that I can give all the energy I have inside of me to help someone and still come up short.
So you're drowning? I'm sorry. That must be terrifying. That must be miserable. You must be experiencing the worst moments of your life. I hope someone nearby knows how to help you. I hope they have a raft you can climb into, or a rope for you to grab, or a float you can cling to. I hope things get better. I'll call for help, and give you what I can to get you to shore.
But don't you dare drag me under water and curse me for saving myself.
Now get out of my fucking inbox.
#Negativity cw#I don't owe you my medical history#I don't owe you my personal history#You don't know what kind of person I've been#But I promise that person was not always pleasant#Kindness is a choice#Kindness is a blessing#And blessings can be withheld#It doesn't mean you deserve your pain#But nobody else does either#Yeah it sucks#But what are you going to do now#Nobody can rescue you#So what's the plan
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Leather & Lace 2
Hello my loves! Leather and Lace 2 is now yours. The next and last official part is available on our Patreon early, but I’m willing to write some more for them if you guys want 👀 they’ll be classified as ‘extras’ but oh well hehe
Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings
Leather & Lace masterlist
Warnings- possessive H, kind of a dickhead
WC- 3.7k
Things had shifted between Harry and Y/N.
He hadn’t been sure what to expect after she’d blown him, but she didn’t make it awkward at all. If anything? They were more comfortable around each other. Harry was less nervous to touch her, pulling her into his side as they sat on her new couch the next day or adjusting the hair from her face when the wind got it stuck in her lip gloss when they’d met for lunch. The way she reacted to his touch was much more noticeable to him now which made him feel particularly chuffed. Y/N was important to him before, but it seemed like the intimacy had elevated them to a different level.
It had only been a week since the night at her place where she’d given him the best blowie he’d ever received, but they hadn’t done much else. They had cuddled in bed that night, kissed a little bit, but he hadn’t had a chance to get her truly alone and it was driving him nuts.
Y/N was popular and she had a lot of activities she liked to do. Paint n’ sip classes she helped run, volunteering at the library, at the animal shelter, helping her new neighbor with her cat, on top of her own workload. The closest he’d gotten to alone time with her was when she arrived at his place on wednesday to climb into his bed and pass out, which she’d done with a smeared kiss to his lips. She’d been asleep once her head hit the pillow.
He’d gotten to see her out quite a bit as he was often wrangled into helping her. He used to pretend to be grumpy about it and huff and puff when she’d pat his head but he hadn’t even tried to do that this week. Instead he let his touches linger and watched her smiles grow, happy to get a few seconds to hug her before she had to move on to something else. It had been driving him out of his mind, and if they didn’t have the promise to go back to her place tonight he may have lost it.
House parties weren’t something he particularly liked, but when Y/N called him on video chat and gave him her puppy eyes while asking him to help her set it up for Sarah, he couldn’t say no. He did like the other girl well enough and he knew how crazy Y/N was about birthdays, so he’d given up his friday night to the whole surprise party.
Though he wasn’t feeling very generous with Y/N’s time anymore. For the first hour of the party he’d followed her around and lingered in the corners to make sure she was okay as she chatted to people, but this observing really did him in. She was so fucking perfect.
It hit him again how much he actually liked her. The whole experience was odd considering he hadn’t considered being in a relationship in this point of his life, content with hooking up and never seeing the other person again, but that was pre Y/N. Now that he had her in his world, it was hard to imagine himself with anyone but her. Sure, she was his opposite in a way, but they attracted. That’s what all the books and movies said, anyways. He want content just observing her, ignoring mostly anyone else who would come up to him or give them one worded answers with his eyes on his girl, the pretty little butterfly fluttering around the room.
The feeling had been so unfamiliar that the first time he’d felt it, he’d thought it was heartburn or something.
Harry had already admired her before but it was a whole other level seeing how much she tried to make other people feel seen. She gave them attention, smiling and listening intently before gracefully getting her exit out only to be stopped by someone else. How a woman like that had been into him enough that she’d wanted to blow him and keep him around, he had no clue. But there was no taking it back, and he was feeling greedy.
Cornering her in the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes at her as she looked at him with a giddy smile. “M’tired of sharing your attention.” he said it simply, placing his hands on her hips and backing her into the quieter corner. She squeaked as her back hit the wall, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as he loomed over her. “Barely got a lick of your attention all week, and m’not happy about it, pet.” His lip pouted slightly, the ring on it glinting at the motion.
She frowned, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I know it’s been really busy, H, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to help people out.” She sighed, watching him look over her face. The girl looked a little tired, which he didn’t like.
“I know you do, sweets, but you’ve got t’learn how to tell people no. You’re spreading yourself too thin and you barely have a moment to breathe. Yeah, m’greedy for your attention but I don’t like the idea of you being tired and running ragged because people ask you t’do shit. They know you’ll say yes.” It actually did piss him off. He didn’t think everyone had malicious intent, no, and he knew Y/N was a big girl who could handle herself. But sometimes he had to wonder why they were so comfortable asking such big things of her.
“I do like to help, though.” She tried to protest but really couldn’t, because he was right. She was bone tired and despite her bubbly nature, she had been deflating slightly as the night went on. Their weekend together was the reprise they got to have where she knew she’d have time to breathe. Selfishly she liked that Harry was able to be blunt and a little mean. He wasn’t to her, but his protectiveness of her really showed.
“Yeah, but it means I get less time with you. And m’a selfish man, Y/N.” Tipping her chin up, he lowered his face towards her. “Not to mention you’ve been too busy to let me properly fuckin’ kiss you. Like your little pecks darlin, they’re cute, but where’s the kiss you gave me with my load on your tongue? Hm?”
Y/N sputtered, whining at his dirty mouth but he could tell she liked it. Her eyes had widened but she had no real heat to her scolding, instead leaning into him a bit more. “I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you like that.” The admission followed a beat of silence.
“Always want you to kiss me, are you fuckin’ kidding?” He grumbled. “Can’t jus’ give me the best blowie of my life and fuck off. Didn’t let me return the favor which m’dying to do, but even more you’ve been keeping this mouth from me. Don’t like it one bit.” His thumb brushed over the plump bottom lip, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head. “S’a fucking shame. Can’t get how good we tasted together out of my head. Not trying to pressure you if you don’t want to do that stuff, you can tell me to fuck off but.. I don’t think y’want me to.”
“No, I…” She stumbled over her words. “I do want those things. I just didn’t expect you to talk so dirty.” The tilt of her lips gave the clue that she liked it. “I didn’t want to assume it meant more than just that even though I wanted it to and - oh”
His mouth cut her off. Catching her off guard her lips opened a little bit, letting him be selfish and slip his tongue into her sweet mouth. Humming at the taste, his arm leaned against the wall as he held himself over her while the other kept her jaw angled the way he wanted it. The kiss was just like him. Intense and hot and a little sweet at the end when he pulled back and pressed three more pecks to her lips, rubbing his nose against the side of hers. “None of that shit. Meant a hell of a lot to me, silly little thing. Want to do it all the damn time. So you’re gonna have t’take it easy with giving all your time away, hm? Think I need some more of your help soon… and maybe…” He released her jaw to slide his hand to the back of her neck, massaging it just a little. “Maybe you’ll let me help you, hm? Someone’s got t’take care of such a sweet little thing. It isn’t fair.”
“H-Harry.” She felt her cheeks getting hot. Harry’s attention had always been intense and maybe that’s part of the reason she’s been so busy this week. Anxiety over being truly alone with him again in case he regretted it, if he didn’t like what they did and didn’t know how to let her down easy- but this was the ideal, she thinks. Regardless of how much he flustered her, or how he was the biggest energy in the room, she found herself preening at the attention he gave her. “It meant a lot to me too.”
Her hushed voice made him smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss between her brows. “Good. Can we get going, then? Or would y’let me lick your cute little cunt in one of these bedrooms?” Did he say it just to watch her squirm? A little, but only because it was really fucking cute.
“We can go. I’ve just got to say goodbye to some people.” She sent him a shaky smile as he nodded, pushing off the wall to wrap his arm around her shoulders. It was a new feeling for her to feel so… claimed. They had been around each other pretty consistently for a while but she could feel people looking, considering Harry was usually the victim of her clinging to his arm instead. Open affection wasn’t something anyone had seen from him, let alone with a girl that was so clearly different than him, but something about that made her giddy.
Harry was impatient in general, but he tampered it down as Y/N said goodbye to the people she knew here. It was just in her nature to be a polite little flower, floating around the room to wish everyone a good evening. Her manners, oddly enough, aroused him. He liked seeing her be so sugary sweet and knowing that it was 100% genuine. It was even more nice to see considering he’d had a glimpse of what a bold and filthy girl she could be. The blowie the night she’d moved in had completely taken him off guard and let him know then and there that her innocence wasn’t all encompassing. She had some shadows to her, and he planned to see how full they could extend.
His arm was around her as she said goodbye, merely nodding when people acknowledged him and not bothered when they didn’t. All that mattered to him was they were polite to her- though one of the guys had been a bit too bold, especially considering he was right fucking there.
“Her eyes are on her face, not her tits.” He said lowly. “And if you’d like t’keep yours, I suggest you remember that.” There was no full aggression, only a promise that he intended to keep. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d go at someone for her.
Thankfully the prick flushed, muttering apologies before dashing away so he could use this as an excuse to get them the fuck out of there.
Harry didn’t love parties. He didn’t like lots of people. He went for 3 reasons only, and they depended on the night. To get a drink, to get a fuck, or for Y/N. Though now he supposed he’d have an excuse for not going to many others. The plan was to keep Y/N to himself and not have to deal with the people he’d fucked around with not getting the hint even after he stated what he wanted. For once in his life he wanted one person and one person alone, and she was under his arm.
To his surprise, she didn’t say anything about his snarky reply to the guy they’d last said goodbyes to, instead leaning into his side as they approached his car. It was a bit nippy outside and he knew she ran cold, so he’d remedy that quickly. “C’mere.” He sighed, picking her up and placing her on the hood of his car. Stripping his flannel off, he motioned for her to splay her arms out, helping her put it on. “Wasn’t too bad when you left but it’s a little too cold out for you now, hm?” His voice was softened as he stood between her knees, face level with her as he slipped his hands under the new layer.
“I never remember to grab a sweater.” She admitted, smiling shyly as she felt palms running over her back. This was different. The whole thing was, seeing as Harry’s treatment of her had considerably softened up. He’d always been nice to her, don’t get her wrong! He let her sit on him and mess up his hair and hold his arm but… feeling him be the touchy one for once really made her feel… validated? Appreciated? She wasn’t sure of what the right term would be, but she felt like he liked her more than she had originally thought. “Who’s place do you want to go to?”
“Hm… maybe mine. I just did a grocery shop. I know you’ve been busy this week, so I don’t want to go and mess up your place.” Y/N would be a bit unsettled if it got messy and he was planning on seeing what exactly he could get her to do with him.
It had been circling around his mind the whole week, how he wanted to make it up to her. How he wanted to take her properly and feel her cum around his cock and his tongue and his fingers- anywhere he could get it. He was a man starved, pathetically so, but he didn’t have any shame in it.
“Okay. I like your place.” It was the truth. He had a nice place in her opinion. It was bigger than her own, but not cold. Darker in aesthetic, brick and dark colors and richer patterns. She’d helped him make it nicer after she had seen the state of it the first time, a real bachelor pad that made her worry for his comfort. Thanks to the sweet girl, he had a much more comfortable sectional couch, a coffee table- with coffee table books, no less- and some art. She’d helped pick out his bar stools for his island in the kitchen, too. Little bits of her were all over his place, but that’s how he wanted it to be.
“I’d hope so. You helped make it.” He snorted, tugging her closer to him so their centers were flush. The silence happened again, this time a little heavier. “I missed you this week.” The sentiment was repeated as he dragged a hand from under the warmth of his flannel and brushed the hair out of her face. The breeze hadn’t been much of a help. “I sleep better when you’re around. Know I like to give you shit and call you a needy pup, but I love it when you’re like that.” Tipping her chin up, he sighed as he observed her soft features. The slope of her nose, the mascara on her lashes that had flaked just a little bit, the slightly faded lip stain. He couldn’t imagine not being obsessed with her.
“I’m glad. I used to think I was a little annoying to you.” She admitted, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I was so busy. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Historically he’d get grumbly about it but he understood- and she’d usually pop over or invite him to her old flat.
“Course I mind. Not that you have stuff to do but you overwork yourself and…” licking his lip, he debated on whether or not to say it. “Was just hoping that you weren’t avoiding me, is all. That I didn’t make you uncomfortable last weekend.”
Her heart clenched in her chest as she saw his eyes dip to the side, for once in his life showing a bit of vulnerability. Harry never seemed anxious about much, his general setting being a blank stare or a smug smirk, so it wasn’t something she saw often. Sometimes when he was drunk he’d get a little mushy about things but he hadn’t had much, if anything tonight. “No. Of course not. I initiated it, remember?” Her hand lifted to his face, the skin slightly cool from the night air. “I wanted to do it. I promise. If I was uncomfortable I’d tell you. Listen…” adjusting slightly, she caught his eye. “I feel the most safe when I’m with you. Sure, sometimes it feels like I’ve got a guard dog, but I feel really secure. I know you’d never hurt me, you always are so careful with me even if everyone else thinks you’re all rough and tumble… I know you and I know you’d only even touch me in ways I like. I really was busy, but I was just nervous you’d regret it too.”
Harry’s brows furrowed at her admission. While he was over the moon that she always felt the safest with him, he had no idea why she would think he’s regret it. “Never. I just kept thinking about it. I wanted to do it more. I don’t regret anything, and I feel like I’ve got t’make sure you know that I don’t think of you as one of those quick fucks.” Even if she hadn’t said it, he was sure that was a thought that had lingered around in her head. That was his reputation and he’d be stupid if he didn’t know better.
“I.. I never thought of it as that, no, but I wasn’t expecting commitment.” She admitted back, eyes wide as he looked into his own. It squeezed his chest, the idea of just being with her sexually. That wasn’t what he wanted.
“No. I want commitment.” He said lowly. “You aren’t just a fuck to me, Butterfly. Not in the slightest. I fuckin’ adore you, y’know that?” He sighed, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip and tugging it slightly before letting it snap back into place. “You’re my girl. You’ve been my girl for a while. I’ve jus’ been a bit of a pussy in trying to initiate anything because the last thing I wanted was for you t’think that you were just someone else I went to bed with. M’tired of that.” All he wanted to do was crawl into bed with her at night and feel her kissing him in the morning or watch her sleepy little face as she dreamt. All the fluffy, mushy shit he used to feel sick from were the exact things he craved. “Couldn’t get it up for anyone else after a while. I was only able to thinking about you and… after a bit, I had no desire to be around anyone else. They didn’t smell like you, didn’t sound like you. My cock was set on you and I think my heart wants to follow.”
Y/N had to laugh at his last words but also in shock. She’d heard herself at the beginning of their friendship how he’d scoff at the idea of a relationship, made fun of the romance movies she liked, heard about him disappearing at a party for a bit before coming back with messy hair and swollen lips, sometimes a fly undone. But slowly that had stopped, if she recalled. The hookups, the snarky comments about love. It dwindled. Snark still existed for other things but he seemed to be more lighthearted around her. “You… you want like, a relationship with me?” Her eyes rounded at the thought.
“I’d say don’t act so surprised, but I get it.” He had to admit that, a smile on his face. It surely was a lot for her to process, considering it still had him in a tizzy and he’d had months to work over these feelings. “Yeah. Want you to be mine. M’not good at sharing, though, so you’re gonna have to tell some of these people that you have a boyfriend that wants to love on you a bit when they demand your attention.” There was another pause as his ears turned a bit red. “If, if that’s what you’d want, though. I don’t want to rush you into a label or anything, m’fine with jus’ figuring shit out but I’ve thought of you as mine for a while and-“
Her hand pulled him to her, shutting him up with her lips.
The man, for all his dark demeanor and rough glances, melted under her touch. Hummed into the kiss in surprise, cupping her jaw and reciprocated immediately as her hands went to the back of his neck to hold on to him. That giddy feeling in his stomach was buzzing as she giggled against his mouth as he chased it when she pulled back to get a proper breath.
“C’mere.” He mumbled, nudging their noses. “Lips are cold. Don’t be cruel, little Butterfly.”
Y/N couldn’t have that, could she? “Sorry, boyfriend.” She smiled against his lips, pressing them right back where they belonged.
#jarofstyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry writing#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#opposites attract#harry styles au#harry styles fluff
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h-hey 👯♀️😕😜🎀
Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!
What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)
☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader
☆ — TYPE: NSFW
☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)
☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏
Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost
Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL
You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you
Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do
It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up
Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"
You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.
When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.
Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"
"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."
"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.
"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."
"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."
You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."
"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."
Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."
"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."
"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."
"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."
"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.
...
The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...
The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.
"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."
"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."
Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared
When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS
When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh
Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc
SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷♀️
You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((
I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering
It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3
Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?
It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.
Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...
Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.
Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.
(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)
She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.
..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.
She could stop you if she wanted to.
If she wanted to.
But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.
She finds that she doesn't really want to.
(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)
(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)
(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)
#hazy demos!#hazy explicits!#raiden ei x reader#ei x reader#raiden ei smut#ei smut#sub raiden ei#sub ei#yae miko x reader#yae miko smut#sub yae miko#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#sub genshin impact#genshin#genshin x reader#genshin smut#sub genshin#genshin women#genshin women x reader#genshin women smut#sub genshin women#gn reader
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7x04 Coda
Sprained ankles hurt. Eddie shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by the pain, because he knows all too well that the amount of pain injuries feel like is almost inverse with the actual damage they cause. A shot from a sniper felt like almost nothing, while a stubbed toe sends ricochets up his spine.
But that’s nothing compared to the encroaching feeling of dread as Eddie thinks back on his interactions with Buck over the last two weeks, and what might have caused his best friend to lash out at him.
“I think we fucked up,” he grumbles to Tommy, who gives him a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.
“You mean with Evan?” Tommy says.
Evan. That was kind of weird, right? Eddie had only ever heard Buck’s sister and parents call him by his first name before. He’d only used the name once himself, when he told Buck about his will.
But Buck hadn’t corrected Tommy on it, so he must not mind, Eddie supposes.
Eddie shakes that stray thought away.
“Yeah,” he continues, even though talking kind of hurts right now. That didn’t seem fair, it’s Eddie’s ankle that’s injured, not his lungs. “I mean, with me kind of blowing him off to come to that karaoke night… and the UFC fight in Vegas… and the pickup game…”
Looking back on it now, Eddie’s not sure when it all got so out of hand. He and Tommy had hit it off on the Coast Guard ride back to LA, while Buck was off checking in with Bobby and Athena. He’d been so excited as they shared their similar interests and history- army, MMA, old cars- that he’d immediately made plans to hang out. When Tommy mentioned that he could get them rinkside tickets in Vegas, Eddie had jumped on it immediately. He didn’t even think about mentioning it to Buck.
And the babysitting thing… Eddie kind of wants to curl up thinking back to the strange face Buck had made when Eddie asked him to watch over Chris. Buck usually loved hanging out with Chris, even volunteering for it when Eddie mentioned having plans, so he didn’t think twice about asking it of him. He should have known.
“Ooh, yeah.” Tommy lets out a whistle. “We did fuck up, huh. Could have at least invited him to muay thai after the match.”
Eddie laughs a little, strained by the pain and the stirrings of shame. “Buck doesn’t know muay thai. Just boxing.”
“Yeah?” There’s a funny tone to Tommy’s voice. “Maybe we should teach him.”
Eddie does a careful rotation of his inflamed joint. The stretch does help ease the pain a little. “Maybe you should offer him lessons,” he says. “I’m gonna be out of commission for a little bit.”
Tommy glances at him again. A slightly longer one, with them stopped at a red light, kind of searching. “You think he’d be interested in learning from me?”
“Oh yeah. You’re great. And Buck’s a quick study for sure.” Eddie glances out the window, and sees the urgent care clinic sign just past the intersection. “Actually, you think you could do me a favor?”
The light turns green. Tommy drives forward. “Of course.”
“Could you talk to Buck for me?” Eddie asks. “I’m sure he’s feeling all sorts of guilty right now, and it’s not his fault. He just got a little too aggressive at the game.”
It’s really too bad. Buck’s really good at basketball, for someone who hates the game so much. Eddie’s sure he’ll never get Buck to touch a ball again.
“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, slowly, as he pulls up into the parking lot. “If you’re sure you want me to speak with him.”
Eddie nods. “He’s probably licking his wounds at his loft right now, and he’ll need a bit of a kick in the pants before he comes to see me. I trust you.”
Tommy chuckles a little. “Alright, then. I’ll swing by his place in the morning, before my shift, check in on him for you.”
That’s a relief. They find a parking spot close to the clinic entrance, and Eddie hisses a little as he opens the door and swings his legs out. He needs to be more considerate of Buck’s feelings, going forward. He has the sinking feeling that he’s started to take him for granted.
He’ll have to pay him more attention.
#911 abc#eddie diaz#tommy kinard#evan buckley#i did not expect to be able to pack in as much subtext in this as I did lmao#god this was fun
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Hero AU where school counselor!Phil has to deal with… interesting students.
Namely, the three boys he sees constantly bickering in the hallways.
And slamming cars into each other on the news.
Ridiculously, none of them know who the others are.
But Phil notices the *moment* new young vigilantes start popping up. The trio’s dropping grades, spotty attendance, and injuries only confirm it.
Or, y’know. Tommy mumbling, “What would you do if you were a hero?”
Phil helps in the least obvious ways he can.
Modifying their grades to be a bit less suspicious, leaving out ice packs by his office door (easy to steal), writing late passes without a bit of resistance.
But he can only be so subtle.
“So, Red.”
Tommy’s head jerks up.
Phil almost laughs. “You’ve heard of him, huh? I figure he’s your favorite.”
Tommy shifts awkwardly in his chair — readjusting the wound Phil knows lies beneath his sweater. “Better than the fuckin’ Blade.”
Techno. Honors student. Flawless GPA. Volunteer. And vigilante.
Far closer to a villain.
“If only I could give the Blade a lecture,” Phil says, unable to stop a chuckle, and barely managing to not say, *You two have to stop beating the shit out of each other.*
Eventually, Phil gives up on subtlety & calls them all down to his office.
“So. I heard you’ve been getting into fights.”
Wilbur, drama kid — or Siren, smooth-tongued — is the first to act, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Then Techno. “Mr. Watson, I would *never.*”
“Then what’s that?”
Phil nods to the bruise beneath Techno’s turtleneck — from a hit Siren landed. Then, to Wilbur’s knuckles, ever so slightly battered.
And neither seem to notice a thing.
Phil pinches his brow, sighing.
“Alright. Then Tommy. Care to explain the state of your shoes?” (Burnt, melted from running through rubble the Blade had created.)
*There* it is. Techno frowns, leaning back to peek — and Tommy quickly tucks his feet beneath the chair.
“Nothing.”
“Where were you all last night?”
Every single kid tenses.
And starts rambling out excuses.
“I was— studying, of course—”
“Well, *I* was trying to get ice cream, and that bitch the Blade showed up—”
“Bitch?” Techno cries before catching himself. “I think you mean *Red* and *Siren*—”
“What the fuck?” Wilbur splutters. “Siren was trying to calm those two fuckers down—”
“Boys,” Phil says. “Look. All three of those heroes would be better *together,* right? Not fighting, not hurting each other?”
“Maybe,” Tommy finally mumbles, toeing at the floor, “but… why are we talking about heroes?”
Phil tips back in his chair, face in hands.
“Come on. Someone figure it out.”
Silence.
Phil groans. “Wilbur, you quit band two months ago. Techno, Tommy, who showed up two months ago?”
More silence.
“Uhh… I don’t know.”
“Techno,” Phil says, almost desperate. “You tutor Tommy, right? What happens after he disappears from your lessons?”
“I… go home,” Techno lies.
Phil lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, you go where *he* goes. And where’s that?”
Tommy’s eyes start to narrow.
“You like Greek shit. Like… the Blade,” he says quietly, staring at Techno. Then, at Wilbur. “And *you’re* a pretentious bastard. Like *Siren.*”
Phil raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile.
“And you’re a little shit,” Wilbur snaps, then— pales. “Like… Red?”
“*There* we go,” Phil says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now, I have a plan. If you three work together, I truly believe that—”
It’s a shame Phil’s office is so tiny.
There’s no room for three vigilantes to sufficiently beat the shit out of each other.
.
.
.
Just the idea of the three of them curled up at Phil’s, working on homework before heading off to fight crime (together, for once).
Phil being their “man in the chair” (even if he directs them to safer areas, too worried for anything more).
And of course, the best (worst?) part of being a school counselor — the actual *counseling.*
Except it’s not about what classes to take, or bullies to avoid.
It’s holding Wilbur as he sobs after killing his first villain to protect his brothers. (Because that’s what they are, now).
It’s comforting Techno as he fails his first class, too busy with heroics to focus or study.
It’s reassuring Tommy when his brothers get hurt, always ready to defend their youngest.
And it’s crying like a father when they graduate.
It’s *loving* them like a father, his home always open to them, filled with medical supplies and bedrooms for each kid, newpaper clippings pinned proudly on the fridge.
There’s a reason the city’s strongest trio of vigilantes always protect one specific man.
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Getting a job:
How to Write a Resume so You Actually Have a Prayer of Getting Hired
How to Write a Cover Letter like You Actually Want the Job
Ask the Bitches: What the Hell Else Can I Do to Get a Job?
How to Frame Volunteering on Your Resume When You’ve Never Had a Job
How To Get Ready For a Job Interview: Prep Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself
Common Job Interview Questions and How to Answer Them with the Confidence of a Mediocre White Dude
10 Questions You Should Never Be Asked in a Job Interview
What to Wear (and What Not to Wear) to a Job Interview
What to Do When You’re Asked About Your Salary Requirements in a Job Interview
How NOT to Determine Your Salary
How to Find Remote Work: On Getting the Elusive Work-From-Home Job
High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?
The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career
Myers-Briggs Personalities and Income: What Your Type Says About Your Salary
I Just Applied for a Job. How (And When) Should I Follow Up?
Our Best Secrets for a Successful, Strategic, and SHORT Job Search
Season 2, Episode 11: “I Tripped and Fell into a Career I Don’t like. How Do I Reinvent Myself?”
Freelancing and side jobs:
Should Artists Ever Work for Free?
Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool
Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough
The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships
Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract
Ask the Bitches: My Boss Won’t Give Me a Contract and I’m Freaking Out
I Lost My Job and It Might Be the Best Worst Thing That’s Ever Happened to Me
Becoming a Millennial Entrepreneur (in the Midst of a Pandemic) with Katelyn Magnuson
11 Awful Mistakes I Made as a Self-Employed Freelancer, and How YOU Can Avoid Them
Workplace benefits:
Workplace Benefits and Other Cool Side Effects of Employment
Your School or Workplace Benefits Might Include Cool Free Stuff
Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist
Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?
How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year
Season 2, Episode 6: “Someone Offered to Mentor Me! How Do I Be a Non-Sucky Mentee?”
Navigating the workplace:
My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations
Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace
Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job
Can Looking Weird at Work Be Good for Your Career?
Why Is Short Hair Controversial? An Examination of Expensive, Annoying Beauty Standards
Season 1, Episode 1: “Should I Tell My Boss I’m Looking for Another Job?”
You WILL Regret Accepting Your Coworker’s Social Media Friend Request
Season 1, Episode 5: “I Don’t Love My Job, but It Pays Well. Should I Quit—or Tough It Out?”
Season 2, Episode 7: “How Do I Throw My Incompetent Coworkers under the Bus?”
Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace
Getting a raise:
Salary Range: Are You Asking for Enough?
A Millennial’s Guide to Growing Your Salary
The First Time I Asked for a Raise
You Need to Ask for a Fucking Raise
Should You Increase Your Salary or Decrease Your Spending?
Getting a promotion:
Santa Isn’t Coming and Neither Is Your Promotion: How To Get Promoted
How I Chessmastered Myself Into a Promotion at Work
Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers
The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll
I Hate My Job and I Don’t Know How To Leave It: A Confession
A New Job, a New Day, a New Life, and I’m Feeling Good
Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”
Working remotely
How to Successfully Work from Home Without Losing Your Goddamn Mind (Or Your Job)
How to Find Remote Work: On Getting the Elusive Work-From-Home Job
8 Genres of Productivity Music (Plus Our Secret Stash of Personal Favorites)
My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD
#resume#cover letter#job search#job hunt#getting a job#get a job#career advice#job search advice#job#freelancing
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because this has been on my mind wrapping up the epilogue, here is a little story about how writing fanfiction for very silly sometimes awesome sometimes genuinely terrible SYFY show the magicians changed my life for real.
i started writing help, i’m alive in may 2020. as i have stated many times on this blog, the overarching goal from which this story sprung was my passionate desire to give quentin coldwater each and every last thing he deserved: i wanted to follow him all the way through a downward spiral, and then i wanted to figure out what it would take for him to climb out of the darkness and make it to somewhere he actually wanted to be. the first part of that, the part that became damage control, was some of the easiest writing i’ve ever done, even accounting for the hours spent google mapping the most depressing road trip of all time. the second part was harder, and not just because it wound up being more than four times as long (lmao). it was thornier; there were more threads to weave through; and, frankly, quentin was so fucked up that it took a lot of effort even to outline what it was he needed in order to change. i had written one story already in which the pivot happened entirely internally, an act of self-forgiveness that proved transformational, and i knew that this time i needed to give him more: actual wants, actual actions, an actual life, with actual ties not just to the people already in his circle but to the world beyond. once i had that outline, the first four chapters flowed pretty easily, anchored by the goal of hitting the story’s first big win, which is when quentin finds a way to fix something for the first time since his magic broke; chapter five was where i got stuck.
by that point, it was fall. i had quit my teaching job mid-pandemic with some modest savings, no back-up plan, and a growing realization that after five years in the classroom, teaching was no longer something i could see myself returning to; working obsessively on this story was, among other things, a great way to quiet the constant humming freak-out of what the fuck i was going to do with my life. in october doing some jump squats after sitting in bed all day i threw my back out so badly i couldn’t walk to the bathroom unassisted and paid a hundred dollars to talk to a telehealth doctor for fifteen minutes for some muscle relaxants. the pain sucked, but so did not knowing whether i was going to be better by election day — i’d signed up to be a poll worker, and i really could have used the money.
i’d started dipping my toe in some local volunteer stuff when i quit, but it was during this time that i signed up for the first time for a particular project i was really excited about joining. i did the zoom training with my camera off because my back still hurt too much to sit up; the follow-up involved scanning and emailing some personal documents and signed agreements. i didn’t do it the next day because, whatever, my back fucking hurt; i didn’t do it the day after that because…? and then, well — then i started feeling like i had missed my chance, and it was too late now.
now, here’s the thing: i say feeling like because by this point i had learned enough about the world that i knew — like, knew — that, objectively, taking a few days to send an email (during a pandemic, while i was having previously established health issues) is not considered by most people to be an unforgivable crime. i knew that i should still send the email. and i also had learned enough about myself that i could actually recognize the thing happening in my brain as an example of the kind of overly self-protective mechanisms in which i have many years of practice; i knew by then that i was an absolute expert at finding reasons to not do things that felt like they were based in truth but were really just cleverly disguised manifestations of fear, because if you do things then bad things might happen, but if you don’t do things then nothing bad happens, except that you ruin your own life. i knew all of this!! i could diagnose and analyze exactly how i was once again perpetuating the same anxiety-driven patterns that had governed so much of my life. i was conscious of the workings of my own unconscious. but i still couldn’t bring myself to send the fucking email. instead i was spending 16 hours a day alternately lying in bed and gingerly pacing in my apartment to regain mobility, feeling like shit about the fact that i wasn’t sending the email and also trying fruitlessly to unpack whatever was going on in chapter five.
the election came five days into this mess, and i did feel well enough to go work the polls. this was a great way to experience election 2020, by the way; i had to leave my apartment at like 3:30 in the morning and by the time the returns started coming in i was too delirious to have any emotions about them whatsoever. it was also, not to be a shill for electoral politics, genuinely kind of inspiring: all these people lining up to Do Democracy, the deployment of translators to assist across languages, the columbia undergrad from the neighborhood we were in i was paired with at the info desk who told me he wanted to go into politics and said very seriously, upon hearing i had a friend in the grad school there, “you should tell them to join the union.” plus, you know, the high of doing something, surrounded by other human beings, at a time when that sort of thing had been in short order for the work-from-home crowd for months, and i personally had recently been confined to my bed for several days.
leaving the site that night, entering my twentieth consecutive hour awake, i felt this weird mix of spiritually rejuvenated and psychologically worse. i had just lived through this physical proof of how doing things is both not that scary and kind of awesome, i had spent a day living in alignment with the kind of person i wanted to be, i felt a fresh rush of love for my city and its people — and i still couldn’t imagine sending the fucking email! it was like i was looking at the thing i wanted most through a pane of glass, and the glass was actually really easy to break, so the only thing stopping me was that i was too much of a baby to do it.
and the thought that i had then, i fucking swear, was: i would be such a fucking hypocrite if i wrote quentin coldwater into a happy ending i’m too cowardly to give myself.
which is, first of all: SOOOOOOOO corny, like omg. unbelievably cringe. embarrassing as hell. but it was also my truth at that moment in time. i had no faith in my own ability to change, but i had spent five months and counting thinking about almost nothing else except the story i was writing in which quentin also has no faith in his ability to change but is brave enough to do it anyway, and i really felt like — i could not live with myself putting these ideas out into the world and refusing to integrate them into my own life. i could not write this promise that something better was possible for quentin if i wasn’t even going to try to make it possible for me. i could, apparently, live forever with my constant self-sabotage, but i couldn’t live with myself making this story a lie (this story being, again, fanfiction for a TV show that was, at its best, so great, and also, at its worst, so, SO stupid).
and like… that worked. i emailed the documents the next day; i attended my first monthly zoom meeting that weekend, during which the election was officially called, which felt like a good omen. i summoned the idea that had presented itself to me that night — don’t be a hypocrite! do what you would want quentin to do! — again a while later when my email got lost in the shuffle and i had to send a check-in following up, and again every other time something came up where my fear had to war it out with my desire. (or, well, most other times — it's a work in progress, and yes, i do still find myself calling upon this logic to this day.)
my life now looks more like the happy ending i wrote quentin into than it did almost four years ago, when i started this story, or even three years ago, when i finished it. it looks more like that future than i ever imagined my life could look when i was writing it, and not just because, as i have mentioned before, a few weeks after my election night revelation, i did do as quentin did and befriend a community-minded extrovert who invited me to join a book club. even the fact that the final part of the epilogue has taken me so much longer than expected is a funny case of life imitating art, because while i have had work and illness and travel and general life stress, i have also had many days in the past few months where i was not very productive because i was simply too busy doing something fun — the kind of never-quite-solved balancing act quentin was set to deal with in the epilogue back when i first started kicking it around, well over two years ago at this point, but which was not really applicable to my own life until basically now. and it sounds even to my own ears so, so, so insane to say this, but it’s true: i can trace every aspect of that shift to the fact that i wrote this story, and that writing it fundamentally changed something inside me for the better. (shout-out to the people in the comments who noted that the story was, in a meta sense, my own version of quentin’s coffee maker; i knew you were right, but i don’t think i knew how right until this recent bout of reflection.)
i don't really know that there's a take-away here, because "quit your job and write four hundred thousand words about a weird TV show with a niche audience" is not exactly universally applicable advice. but if i were to try to find one, i think it would be something like: i felt really crazy and kind of embarrassed the entire time i was writing this story, not because i was writing fanfiction, or because it was incredibly horny and wildly self-indulgent, but because it mattered to me so, so deeply. it was one thing to have a fun goofy hobby, even a fun goofy hobby i took semi-seriously and poured a lot of time and effort into, but it was another to actually, like, care, and to care a lot, which i did. but if i hadn't accepted that this story mattered to me, i don't think it could have been as personally transformational as it wound up becoming. the heart wants what it wants, and you're only going to find out what that is if you're willing to listen to whatever rhythm it beats.
i solved chapter five on the way home from the poll site, by the way. i knew there needed to be some problem with quentin’s first semi-successful attempt to mend the coffee maker, but i couldn’t figure out how it tied in thematically with where he was in his life. on the bus it hit me: quentin and the coffee maker were both trying to remain unbreakable. an appealing idea if you’ve been broken, but one more conducive to stagnancy than to growth; you can stay there for a while, but eventually you need to let yourself want more.
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Okay, I made a rant post about it, but Tumblr posted the draft rather than the finished one, so my points went uncomplete, so let's try again. Yes, this is about the N*zi drama bullshit happening in the EverymanHYBRID fandom.
TLDR; Stop defending Summer. EMH fans are not the problem. EMH itself is not the problem. The problem is N*zi supporters clinging to the N*zi reference and twisting it for their own agenda.
People defending Summer are not grasping the full situation and are contributing to sweeping harmful content under the rug instead of doing something about it.
It does not matter what your intentions are. If you draw a N*zi/Swast*ka in a cutesy little art style, it's a hate symbol. It's hateful content and makes you look like a N*zi supporter. Putting anything of this nature in a remotely good light is going to ruin your chances of ever being respected.
Summer drew a cutsy little N*zi in a sexual situation and then turned around with, "I don't support them!!!" Are you actually being real right now? Holy fuck.
I literally couldn't give a rat's ass about talking to Summer about this because holy hell, their "I feel so bad" guilt trippy shit will not work on me. There was no formal apology and no deletion of what was made. Summer is not sorry, they just don't want the heat.
Well, guess what? Brandishing a swast*ka is exactly how you get it, and until those posts come down and it's acknowledged in a non half assed way, you're gonna keep getting the heat.
Summer is making ALL OF US look bad. Summer is scaring people away from joining the fandom.
Depiction does not equal romantization. EverymanHYBRID used N*zis to disgust the audience and make HABIT a universally hated character. It was a throwback to an old media trope that mainstream movies do all the time. "Ooo, N*zi experimentation created a monster, ooo, spooky corny villain!!!" This is not the problem. Movie depictions of these fuckers were always made in a mocking light, and it seems like EMH did the same thing.
HABIT could barely remember who they were and spoke about them like they were shit on his boot. From what I've heard and seen, both the creators and the fandom agreed on minimizing and rewriting this reference out of EMH. You know why? Because people turned HABIT into a slutty fanonized mess of a concept. HABIT was not made to be romanticized for a fucking reason. They thought they were safe to use this trope because they weren't banking on people being ravenously thirsty and then using that reference as an excuse to connect N*zis with the "sexy serial killer" thing. HABIT was not to be sexualized in any way, shape, or form. HABIT was a mockery of real-life evil people. Dehumanizing monstrous people.
And then people turned around and humanized him to a terrifying degree. They made him "relatable," and people are raving about making him the new Tumblr sexyman.
Some of you guys, not all, but some, have no idea what the hell HABIT was made to do and it creeps me the fuck out.
Summer drew HABIT wanting to fuck a Jewish person. They drew a swast*ka next to a drawing of a real-life, non-celebrity, volunteer actor. It's disrespectful and just fucking mean, dude. On top of that, the Amon Göth quote??? The dude ran a labor camp, you've got to be kidding me.
"I'm just a history buff!" All N*zi supporters are history buffs. Your excuses mean nothing. If you didn't mean it, those art posts would be gone.
It's not the fandom or EMH itself. We agreed on being mature about this. Don't pin some 18 year old kid's edgy N*zi bullshit on anyone else but the person doing it.
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what about alpha!kisaki, like do you think his yandere tendencies would be worse if he was an alpha? you’re very consistent btw, I love your blog 🥹🫶
(Finally Alpha!Kisaki <3!!! Thanks for the request and compliment this will be one of the last ABO requests I do so I'll try to make it good. Also I feel like an ass because I went overboard on this one... oops can you guys tell I have a favorite)
Yandere!Alpha Kisaki
Met you through a Rut Aid service. Sort of...
Kisaki was taken aback when he presented as an alpha. He was pleasantly surprised and was at first excited to be apart of an elite. Then his ruts hit and apparently they're out of control.
After a few doctor visits he's diagnosed with over producing dominate pheromones. Its apparently common when a young Alpha is surrounded by other very strong and dominate Alphas.
Because he is so much younger than most of the gang members and finds himself in a leadership position his body is trying to overcompensate.
When his ruts hit is when domineering pheromones' overproduce and cause him to have hyper aggression and feral behavior. His room was in complete shambles and he actually tried to fight his own parents.
Its decided he will be going on intense suppressants and will be having his ruts at a private facility where he will be supplied with artificial omegan pheromones that should calm him down.
They don't. Nothing fucking works for years and years. He's an adult now, and not one thing has helped. He just eats suppresants like they're candy and prays to god he can keep it together.
Nobody else notices his issues though. He keeps it under wraps and when he needs to rut, he usually has his lackeys prepare him a special room.
He's almost killed omegas that volunteer to help him through, he hopes one will actually work but they all smell like shit and his Alpha just wants to rip them to shreds when they get too close.
Then comes a new service that provides alpha's with fresh real omegan scents for their rut. If he likes one then he send his own scented item in. If you're a match you two will begin an anonymous pen pal service.
The idea appealed to him, because he was a very dangerous and private man. He needed his anonymity. It was worth a shot at the very least...
They send him a box of samples filled with items like plushies or sweaters (some freaks send their underwear wtf-)
Kisaki has gone through at least 4 boxes and he's about to give up when he stumbles upon a hoodie. Your hoodie. With some inane cartoon or video game (insert favorite cringe character here)
He throws your bag across the room hard as he can because he's so annoyed and it snags on the edge of the table and rips. Then he smells it.
The most perfect soothing calming thing he's ever had the pleasure of smelling in his life. And its your hoodie. He buries his face in it, drinks it in like its water and he's been dying of thirst.
Oh yes, thank fuck, dear god. You're perfect.
If he had a little more restraint he'd be embarrassed at how fast he comes that night. He's not even in rut but he's fucking his own hand like he's 12 again...
Calls the service the next day and tells them he's incredibly interested in your items and wants them all. Exclusively. He also asks (demands) for your personal profile.
They tell him "Thats not how this works sir." and he almost burns their headquarters to the ground, but decides against it. He has to be smart and safe about this. He can't loose his omega.
Plays along with the service, has his best cashmere sweaters and silk shirts sent out to you.
Its a match! Of course it is. You're all but mated to him at this point, and its decided then that for your heats and his ruts you'll be exchanging scented items.
While that happens he has his men infiltrate the company and find you. Finally gets his hands on your information and wants to puke.
There's nothing wrong with you, its just the circumstances.
You suffer from a pheromone diversion disorder and a pheromone deficiency. Your body has a hypersensitivity to alpha pheromones causing you reject the majority of them and your body produces a miniscule amount of omegan pheromones because of being unable to handle others.
Its like you were made for him. His perfect match...
You're younger, and poor. At least by his standards. He can't stand the fact that you send him your cheap shirts and sweaters. Not because he finds it to be pathetic, but because he knows you deserve better. You need what Kisaki, your alpha, can provide.
Lets you go through one heat with his scented items and gets a letter from you explaining how thankful you are.
"You were the only alpha to like my scent, funny right? Saved my butt though, your smell was the only one I liked too."
Kisaki decides that's it. He's gonna make you his Omega soon. He's got an imported collection of hand crafted luxury collars on the way, you'll pick one out when you're ready he just wants to have them prepared and he plans a meet cute.
He had his men tracking you for weeks, since the first time he found out your name and address. Knows you like to just listen to music and walk in the park. You'll bump into each other, smell one another on accident, and fall in love.
The guy is so dedicated to this that he even wears casual clothes, (Vicuna Wool isn't casual you pompous shit), and when it happens he loses himself for a moment.
Your shoulders brush, your eyes meet, and for once in fucking years, he feels at peace. He doesn't even say what he was planning on saying and you take the lead (that wasn't supposed to happen shit-)
"Uh, heya stranger," you smile at him cocking your head, "Smell'ya around?"
This was easy, you two hit it off. You make it easy... Your personality is incredibly calm compared to his own highstrung one. The only problem is that he doesn't want to wait. He needs you now.
Fate is finally on his side, and you ask about the item exchange. He says "What if we just...Shared our heats and ruts together.
He has you convinced it's a good idea. When else will you meet an Alpha whos smell you actually love?
The key to his plan. You're going to bond Kisaki. He's going to get you so high on his over production of pheromones that you're going to go feral and bite him right on his mating mark.
You'll wake up after your heat and feel like a total monster, while he's on cloud nine. That was the best week of his life, his knot felt so at home snuggly inside you...
Kisaki will comfort you. Tell you its not your fault, that he should've done something... Don't worry baby, he knows you'll take responsibility.
#yandere tokyo revengers#yandere kisaki tetta x reader#yandere kisaki tetta smut#yandere kisaki tetta#yandere kisaki
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sorry, sorry.
pair : bully!sakusa x fem!reader
warning(s) : noncon to dubcon (sakusa says that he's raping reader but trust me he's just saying that to torment her, u can take that however you want), physical assault, bullying, choking, forced throatfucking, non descriptive impregnation, videotaping + leaking, manipulation, gaslighting, misogyny, sexism, all characters are aged up, alcohol
bully!sakusa who cornered you in the girl's locker room, will literally throw a bucket of soap water at you because you're so "dirty." he'll look down at you with satisfactory when your entire body and uniform is soaked with soap buds and the strong oder of cleanliness. he'll mumble a "finally, you don't smell like shit," down at you, eyes shamelessly leering at your now transparent shirt.
bully!sakusa who forces you to sign up to become the volleyball's team manager. he'll either forge your signature or he'll straight up almost break your wrist making you write that shit down. he'll laugh at you when you cry about how your grades are now suffering because being a manager for the team is taking up all of your free time, so you can't study without being tired. "what? you really expected that you'll do something great in life? you're too dumb." he'd say when he catches you trying to study inbetween practices and games.
bully!sakusa who rips up your notebooks and notes when he does catch you trying to study. then the day afterwards when the teacher asks if anyone wants to offer to share their notebook/notes during class, he'll raise his hand up, getting praise for being a good classmate and for volunteering to share with you for the nth time. during those class times, he'd be whispering nonsense into your ears, telling you not to touch his shit or he'll "break your hands and actually give you something to cry about."
bully!sakusa, who during those class lessons, instead of paying attention, he'll be pinching your thighs and wrists, telling you to pay attention. he'll roughly squeeze your inner thighs, making you yelp out in pain during class. he scoffs when you mumble out an embarrassed apology because you can't keep your damn mouth shut.
bully!sakusa, who forces his cock down your throat after class when everyone has left. "maybe this will stop you from interrupting class, huh?" he'd say, burly calloused hands gripping each side of your head, violently pumping your head up and down on his cock. his cock would twitch when you begin to claw at his thighs, lips turning blue due to the lack of oxygen. he'd pull you off his cock suddenly, and pull you by your hair so roughly it gives you whiplash. "don't touch me, damn whore. are you too dumb to breathe through your nose?" he'd yell, and without another word he would shove his cock back down your throat.
bully!sakusa, who would fake being unaware when he gets questioned for being a possible perpetrator for creating, and spreading a video of you getting fucked dumb in the same classroom after he came down your throat. it's clearly him in the video, big hand's wrapped around your throat, teasing and mocking you as your teary, crying eyes roll back in bliss, face flushed with shame as he forcibly splits you open on his thick cock. he has your knees up to your ears, practically bent in half as he batters your cervix on your desk. he mocks you for enjoying being raped, and tells you that nobody will ever listen to you because nobody loves you, and that you should be happy a guy like him is even willing to breathe the same air as you. "he's too good of a student, he'd never do such a thing", the teacher would say before letting him go.
bully!sakusa, who acts surprised when he hears the news about you dropping out. everyone seems to care suddenly, but at the same time; they don't seemed surprised. rumors circulate about the possibles on why you dropped out. "she probably dropped out because of that video of her getting fucked," some idiot would say to him. he'd shake his head, "no, that's not true. it's actually because she's pregnant with her rapist baby and her family is so ashamed of her so they made her drop out because they don't want anyone to see her."
bully!sakusa, who plays dumb when everyone finds out he's the actual father. when asked if he actually raped you, he says that you were actually begging for it and wanted to be treated like a whore. "she's just an attention seeker," someone said after he had told them that you lied. he internally laughs, he was right. nobody even cares about you enough to even take your word.
bully!sakusa, who basically barges into your house after school, giving a respectful nod to your timid mother. he has a little conversation with her as he takes off his shoes. wouldn't wanna make this little place dirtier than it already is. she embarrassingly mumbles apologies for you being a fuck-up, and begs him to forgive you. he fakes a smile at her, "of course, i'll forgive her. i'll make sure to take care of her, don't you worry." as he makes his way up to your room, he scoffs in amazement. not even your own mother cares about you.
bully!sakusa, who isn't surprised when he sees you sitting up on your bed, eyes low with emptiness. you were anticipating him. he doesn't waste a second to fuck you once again in your childhood home, not caring about the fact that your parents can most likely hear your cries and pathetic screams. his hands grope and painfully squeeze at every part of your body as he marks you up with bloody bites and hickies. he's a little more gentle than the previous times he's aggressively raped you. you're carrying his child of course, he has to make sure that he doesn't kill his son (he hopes it's a son because he doesn't want a daughter because she'll become a whore like you.)
bully!sakusa, who while he fucks you, mocks you for falling pregnant with your rapist. he tells you that it's so easy to control your body, and that you basically wanted to be raped with how easily you became pregnant. he puts you into the meanest mating press of your life, cock threatening to break your cervix. threatening to break you. by the end it, you're nothing but a shell of the person you once were, eyes and brain dead with defeat. "you've got nothing left good goin' for you, just give up, damn bitch." he says as he zips up his fly, leaving you sprawled limp onto the bed, pussy sore and leaking full of his cum.
bully!sakusa, whom after he graduates, makes you come live with him as his wife. "nobody will take care of you in the way i do." he tells you when you cried after realizing you're stuck with him forever. pregnant with his child, no education to your name, no support, you do give up. maybe he is whats best for you.
if you like my work, please leave a like and repost with tags :)
#haikyuu breeding#haikyuu smut#haikyuu pregnant#haikyuu!! smut#yandere sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa x reader smut#sakusa smut#sakusa kiyoomi smut#yandere sakusa#haikyuu dark content#haikyuu yandere#⨳ noncon#⨳ dubcon#⨳ yandere saku
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Tags/Warnings: fem!tutor!yn, football player!Bakugou, werewolf!Bakugou, college au, werewolf mates, yn is hit on my a douchebag and bkg punches him <3
Werewolf!Bakugou who decides he wants to go to college after high school in order to use the football scholarship he earned as the star quarterback.
Werewolf!Bakugou who can’t imagine a life not spent chasing the ball in front of him and mowing down the opposition.
Werewolf!Bakugou who figures out the hard way that chasing the ball requires good grades, actually, and that college is nothing like high school.
Werewolf!Bakugou who walks into his first tutoring session with you gross, sweaty from practice, and about fifteen minutes late, and you clock three things immediately.
One, Bakugou Katsuki is in fact a werewolf; you have The Gift just as you mother had, and you can see it, smell it instantly as he walks through the door. In your mind's eye, you see the beast you know he is in an awkward overlay over his human form, and you don't catch whatever excuse he offers for his tardiness because you're distracted by gleaming crimson eyes and the black ring around them that you know not to be eyeliner, but instead simply his natural coloration.
Two, he's sexy as hell, and that makes you wanna rage-quit your job then and there. You work so hard, and yet the higher-ups always plague you with the hottest students to tutor— you swear they do it on purpose just to dangle what you can never have in front of you like some cruel joke.
Three— he's looking at you. Not just looking, but looking. You can't meet his eyes any longer, so you roll them to heaven in a silent plea for help.
"Just sit down and let's get started now," you tell him, willing your hands to steady as you gesture to the computer monitor next to you. "I only have forty-five minutes left in my shift, and judging by your sheet of objectives, we've got a lot of work to do."
He sits next to you, sweaty, earthy, and a bit smelly, and instead of logging in, he stares at you a bit more, heavily sniffs the air, then sneezes, and sniffs again. You squirm, uncomfortable, and he seems to sense this, because he reluctantly turns to the monitor and puts his too-big hands over the keyboard.
You sigh, and think that this will be a long semester.
***
The first tutoring session does not go as poorly as Bakugou anticipates— but it does not go as well as it might have, either. He spends most of his time there being redirected by the sweet, funny-smelling little thing they assigned to work with him. He doesn't think you realize that you're what's distracting him, or else you'd stop leaning in so close to show him things he couldn't care less about on this google docs thing or whatever— but he's certainly not going to complain, even if it is a pain to keep his teeth to himself the whole time. You just— you smell like a chew-toy made specifically for him, but he can't figure out why.
It's maddening.
Even so, to the relief of his coaches, Bakugou decides to keep showing up, and things get better from there. He gets used to your scent— something earthy, something natural beneath the smell of pencil lead, pen ink, and paper-smell— and he tries not to stare quite so often. Meanwhile, you're ever patient, ever gentle, even when he snaps and growls a bit when you apply more pressure than he'd like while working on assignments he doesn't want to do. You make it easy for him to know things about you; you easily volunteer personal information as a way to build rapport, he thinks. It's… it's nice to get to know you in this way.
There's just one thing that keeps bothering him.
"Why don't you ever come to any of my games?" he sulks one day as you comment on your weekend plans— Netflix with Ben and Jerry, whoever the fuck they were. Fuck Ben and Jerry.
You give him a funny look.
"And how do you know I don't go?" You ask him, quirking a brow in a way that makes him feel like he's missing something. "There's thousands of people in the stadium when you play— you wouldn't know if I was there or not, now would you?"
"Yes I would," he shoots back immediately, forgetting himself, and then to his chagrin, you challenge him.
"Oh yeah? How?" you demand, arms crossed with a smirk, and he knows he's been had.
He couldn't very well say "I could smell you if you were there," now could he?
"I just would," he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair. "Still didn't answer my question.'
You look at him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then you admit,
"You guys get hurt a lot," you said, eyes cast down on your lap. "I used to go, but my heart leaps into my throat every time I see one of you go down— which is all the time, really."
Bakugou immediately regrets his attitude when he remembers his teammate, whose knee was in a couple different pieces currently. Of course you had such a sweet and noble reason for not going. Of course he'd made an ass out of himself about it.
"Oh," he says, awkward in the face of your revelation, but you reach out and take his hand with a soft smile.
"It's alright," you say, your skin warm against his. "In fact— if you really want me to go, I'll come out this Saturday and watch you guys play."
Bakugou immediately perks up at that. Some part of him preens at the thought of you in the stands, watching him being better and faster and stronger than every other man under the lights— an irresistible part that makes his teeth itch.
"You will?" he asks, uncaring of how eager he must appear to you.
"I will," you smile, and he grins back a little too widely.
It's not until he leaves the session with you that he realizes that this Saturday is the full moon.
***
That next Saturday, you don't tailgate or otherwise celebrate. You're a bit nervous, on edge, but also excited— you had forgotten what the collective energy of a fall football crowd had felt like, and now that you're sitting in the stands, watching the game, you remember why you ever even bothered to go.
Bakugou is stunning; as you watch him, he's fast and strong and clever as he twists in and out and around the other team's defense, unstoppable, a true alpha. Your heart skips a beat as a huge, hulking player almost Bakugou's size moves to tackle him— but Bakugou dances just out of reach and all the other player catches is air, warmed slightly by Bakugou's former presence. You've never seen anything like this. He's incredible, and you curse yourself for not coming to watch him sooner.
By the end of the game, there's a nervous energy in your chest, a restlessness in your mind; as you wait in line to get down to the field to see Bakugou, part of you wants to shove through the crowd, using your shoulder and sharp elbow to make a way for yourself. Something inside you needs to see him, a deep and desperate urge that you don't quite understand… but once your feet finally touch astroturf, you don't see him, and the world suddenly feels too big, too vast— dizzying.
You feel a presence at your side, and a shadow falls over you. You look over, and although the player who has approached you isn't quite Bakugou's size, he's still huge, hulking, and you suddenly feel small.
"Hey pretty thing," the man says, smiling widely in a way that makes guttural fear pulsing sickeningly through you. "You looking for somebody?"
You shake your head, finding yourself both literally and figuratively on the back foot as you back away, but the man closes the distance easily, with a single step forward that equals two and a half of your strides.
"I think you want to get into the after-party with me," he said, still grinning. "Don't you think you'd look good on my arm?"
The and in my bed goes unspoken, but you hear it anyway, and something wild rises in you— but then something happens faster than you can blink, and the man is suddenly gone. Instead, you see Bakugou's back, his jersey number printed in large font and your school's colors, and his shoulders are heaving with labored breaths.
He'd punched his teammate straight in the mouth.
You watch on, frozen for a moment as Bakugou tears into the bastard, and then suddenly you find your voice and your feet, and as the full moon peaks out from behind the clouds, you call his name:
"Katsuki!" you scream, and when he turns to you, you see that his eyes are no longer human, but flashing fully wolf in the cold, bright light of the stadium. His teeth, you notice, are unnaturally sharp and white, and he looks now somehow more like beast than man.
As the other player scrambles to his feet, you lose Bakugou’s attention, and he lunges at his teammate, tackling him to the ground.
I'm that moment, something surges within you; somehow, you feel sure that Bakugou won't stop until his teammate properly submits to him, and you know that no one knows how to actually do that—
Except you.
Heedless of danger, you step in front of Bakugou, wedge yourself between him and his teammate; you lock eyes with him briefly, enough to catch the attention of brilliant vermillion, then expose your neck, tilting your head to one side as you close your eyes. Immediately, you feel a whiskered cheek rub against yours, accepting the submission with a pleased rumble, and the tension leaves your body entirely.
"We need to get out of here," you tell him as you look up and catch a glance at the moon. "People probably saw what just happened, and you don't need to be around humans when you—"
At that, Bakugou flinches away. He's suddenly, jarringly apart from you, eyes wide and mouth agape, putting pencil-sharp fangs on display.
"How— how did you—"
His eyebrows scrunch in a heart-wrenching mix of confusion and betrayal, but there is no time to deal with that here and now.
"Later," you assure him, grabbing one of his hands and pressing it against your neck, once again submitting to his wolf. "Come on, let's go."
Together, you make your way out of the stadium, your hand in his, until you're in a park, surrounded by trees, and far enough away that you're sure not to be bothered by any untimely interruptions. Blessedly, the moon is covered by the foliage of the trees you stand beneath, and you feel certain that Bakugou is relaxed a bit by its absence.
"Are you alright?" you ask him, and he looks at you like you've grown another head.
"Am I— you mean to say— uhh—"
He blinks, shakes his head, then tries again.
"What the fuck just happened?" he asks, this time fully articulate, and you giggle.
"I don't see what's so fucking funny," he huffed, crossing his arms. "Are you insane?"
"No more than you are," you grin, and he frowns at you.
"How— uh, I mean— why did you—"
You've had enough of watching Bakugou flounder. Slowly, you step forward, exposing your neck once more, and you say,
"It's alright, Katsuki. I have The Gift. I've known what you are since the day I met you."
You look up to meet his eyes, and Bakugou is… less himself. The awkward overlay of his beastly form is back in your vision, and even when you blink a few times, it doesn't go away. The only thing that remains consistent are his eyes— vibrant, blood-red, and alluring.
"Did you take your wolfsbane?" you ask him, and he grunts in what you assume is the affirmative. It would only make sense that he would because of the game, but with the way he's acting—
"I think the wolf wants to shift anyway," he says, visibly struggling with the words. "I want— I mean, it's— Jesus fuck, woman, stop with the neck thing before I start gnawing on you!"
You stiffen a bit at that, and Bakugou looks like he could shove his foot in his mouth— but then the implication of what he said begins to dawn on you, and you smile.
"You think of me as pack," you say with a grin. "How cute!"
"N-not pack." He looks at you meaningfully, then. "Not… quite."
You blink. You swallow.
"Not… pack?"
Bakugou looks miserable.
"No," he affirms. "Not pack."
It was always a possibility, you knew. Your mother had warned you long ago. Your own father had been human, of course, but where The Gift was concerned, one could never be sure.
"So… like mate?"
Bakugou hunches his shoulders with shame, but nods tentatively.
"Before, I wasn't sure," he admits, "but now, under the moon…"
He grimaces, and your heart breaks for him. Slowly, you step forward and reclaim his hand with a smile, and he lets you.
"How close are you to your shift?" you ask gently, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his knuckles.
"Close," he huffs. "You— you gotta get outta here, you can't be here for when I—"
"I know," you tell him, understanding.
"Don't— don't run, though." He eyes you up and down, and you swear you can see a wolf-tail swish despite his rueful expression. "I'll want to chase if you run."
An interesting detail— you file it away for later.
"I won't," you promise, still holding his hand in yours, "but in return, I need you to make a promise to me."
Bakugou growls lightly at that, frustrated, but you lift his hand to your neck, place it there, and it soothes him.
"Promise me that when you're recovered from your shift, you'll find me," you say. "We need to talk about this properly— and from here on out, I'll need to tell my supervisors that I can't tutor you anymore."
Hurt flashes in Bakugou's eyes, and you can see that he's wounded, but you press his hand more firmly against your neck as you add,
"After all, tutors aren't allowed to date their students— can't give HR a reason to fire me."
A million different emotions flicker in Bakugou's eyes, and the vision of his wolf gets a little stronger— but he takes his hand away, shuddering.
"Get the hell outta here," he says, looking at you now with eyes that are peeling off your clothes layer by layer, "or else I don't think I'll give you a choice in the matter."
At that, you grin.
"Is it a deal, then?"
Bakugou grunts.
"You bet your sweet ass it is. Now fuck off— I'll find you when I'm me again."
It is with a certain thrill of satisfaction that you turn on your heel, leaving Bakugou there in the copse of trees in the center of the park. You know he will do just as he said; you know that he is made for you, and you for him.
You know you've found your mate.
#hannah's freaky fridays#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou#mha x reader#werewolf!bakugou#tutor!reader
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Would you be able to write one with reader defending George to her friends and soft boi overhears and practically melts. If you would be so kind.
Low-key got excited that you did you might start writing for Fred as well as I'm a slut for both twins :) (Most definitely George thou but Fred kinda close second 😉)
I love this! Thank you for requesting it, anon. I hope you enjoy it!
Wonderful You
Warnings: cursing, depression
~•~
There are some days that just lay on you like a stone. Today was one of those days for George. Nothing in particular caused it. It was just something that happened to him from time to time, and he didn't know why.
George pushed the covers off, already exhausted. It was as if his body was made of lead. He could barely lift his head from the pillow, and it ached, no... hurt, to pull himself out of bed. To get dressed. To put one foot in front of the other. But it would hurt more without you by his side. So, he did all of it and made his way downstairs.
It was Thursday, which meant you were already up for your volunteer shift at the library. He'd get there just in time for your shift to end. Then you could go cuddle for hours on end, as the two of you always did when he was having one of his black days.
~•~
He could hear voices outside the library before he rounded the corner.
"I just don't understand what you see in him," one said. "I mean, he's cute, I'll give you that. But he's such an annoying prat."
It didn't occur to George that they were talking about him until he heard his girlfriend's voice.
"Well, it's a good thing he's my boyfriend and not yours," Y/N snapped.
"Look, Y/N were not trying upset you," said another voice. "We just think you could, you know, do so much better."
George peeked around the corner to see Y/N standing with her arms crossed, facing two of her Ravenclaw friends, Abby and Lydia.
"Excuse me," Y/N retorted. "But, you don't know a damn thing about him or our relationship."
"I know enough to know the only thing he cares about are his precious pranks and ridiculous inventions. He'll never amount to anything. Even his own mother knows that." Lydia said.
George slunk back into the shadows, sinking down on the nearby bench, head in his hands. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it refused to budge. What if Lydia was right? What if his mum was right? What if he was nothing more than a series of disappointments?
What if?
What if?
What if?
What if he didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Y/N? What if he'd only bring her down?
He was seconds away from shuffling back upstairs and burying himself in bed when Y/N's voice stopped him in his tracks. George turned and peeked around the corner again.
"As I said," Y/N's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that hinted at the rage seething just beneath her skin. "You don't know a damn thing about him. You only see what you want to see. So, until you get off your high horse and make an effort to get to know the most amazing, sweet, brilliant human being to ever come into my life, I suggest you shut the fuck up."
Abby snorted. "I'm sorry Y/N but, brilliant? Brilliant? Really? He can barely be bothered to do his schoolwork. I shudder to think of his grades."
George watched in awe as his barely five foot girlfriend rounded on the very tall, wide-eyed Abby and backed her against the wall.
"You should have stopped at 'I'm sorry,' she said. "But, that's ok, because now I know who you really are. An arrogant, elitist snob. George is more intelligent than ten of you. He actually knows how to use his brain instead of just parroting back facts."
"But..." Abby started.
"Nope." Y/N cut her off. "I don't want to hear anything else you have to say. You've lost the privilege to talk to me."
Abby looked like she might cry. Y/N didn't care. She whirled around and ran smack into Lydia.
"The same goes for you." Y/N tried to go around the girl, but Lydia stepped in front of her.
"Please, Y/N, don't be like this," she pled. "I know we came off a bit gruff, but it's only because we care. We don't want to see you--" Lydia's words trailed off.
"What?" Y/N asked, stepping closer. "You don't want to see me what?"
"Well, it's just, you have so much potential and we just don't want to see it wasted on a--"
"A Weasley? Is that what you're saying?" Y/N was now almost nose to nose with Lydia, who stumbled, trying to back away from the irate witch.
"Let me tell you something, both of you," Y/N began. "I'm am the luckiest girl in the world because George Weasley loves me. And I'm doubly lucky because his family loves me too. And I ever catch wind of either of you saying one word against George or his family again, I will hex you with so many spells it'll take decades to untangle them all."
Y/N bent down to pick up her cloak, which had slipped off her shoulders and onto the floor. "Stay away from me," she warned her ex-friends. "And away from George." Then she turned and stomped away.
~•~
Y/N was so furious that she didn't even notice George when she rounded the corner. A yelp escaped her lips before she realized it was her boyfriend who'd grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh hi, sweetie!" Y/N gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I love you so much, Y/N," he mummered into her ear. "How are you even real? How are you even mine?"
Y/N heard the tremor in his voice and pushed back a little so she could see his face. "Georgie, have you been crying?" The question was rhetorical, of course, because his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes gave him away.
"Uh, maybe a little."
A little, my ass. "Did you hear any of that conversation?"
George nodded, releasing his hold on her to wipe his eyes.
Dammit. "Now, you listen to me, George. Don't you dare believe one word they said. They're stuck-up idiots who don't deserve a second thought. Ok?"
George nodded again. "Will you marry me?" The question came completely out of the blue. "I know we're only seventeen, and we still have to finish school, and I don't have ring, and--"
Y/N silenced him with a kiss. "Yes," she said, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. "A thousand times, yes! But let's graduate first, ok," she added with a smile.
George nodded and gathered her up into another bear hug. "I love you, and I promise I'll take care of you and never disappoint--"
"Georgie, sweetheart," she gently interrupted. "Are you sure you're ok?"
"No," he whispered. "But I will be."
Y/N looked at him, really looked at him, and it hit her.
"Oh lovey," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I am--I was," he stammered. "I came down to find you, but I heard those things being said about me, and it hurt. I started to think that maybe they were true and I almost left. But, then you said all those wonderful things, and you made me feel like the most special person in the world."
Y/N smiled up at him. "That's because you are the most special person in the world. And, to me, you always will be."
A smile spread across George's face for the first time since he woke up. "Just when I think I can't love you anymore than I already do." He leaned down and kissed her gently, their foreheads resting together even after they pulled away.
"Now, how about we grab some breakfast and go find a quiet place to snuggle the day away?" Y/N asked.
"Yes, please." George smiled sheepishly. "As long as you don't have anything more important to do."
"There is nothing and no one more important than you, my sweet Georgie."
#george weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley x y/n#george weasley x you#george weasley angst#george weasley fluff
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It probably doesn't count as kink but I would love to read about it (it's okay if you skip it)
Eddie who loves just playing with reader tits. Not in a sexual way, just because he's boring, they're soft and squishy
So they're both watching tv or doing homework and Eddie's hand going under reader's shirt and squishes boob. He boy is not even aware of it
Okay, because this is 💯 accurate, and because I need to get my creativity flowing/need something soft, I wanna talk about this too! 😉
Warnings: Boob talk & overall fluff.
~*~
Eddie has always worshipped pretty much every single part of your body. If he enjoyed actually doing his home work, you’d get a fully written thesis about each specific thing that he loved. Be that as it may, the energetic man has a favoritism, however, for two pieces of you that… well— in his own words… jiggle. That’s right, your galactic, bitchin’, otherworldly, better than when he hits that hard chord right, steadier than a deep campaign late into a Friday night, topping anything Ozzie ever did on stage — tits.
They have their own names, he says. Pretty much a list and whatever he comes up with at the most random of times. On days he’s particularly distracted with them during a time when you’re visiting a campaign meeting or a band practice, he’s inking two googly looking circles with diamond shaped eyes, jotting down in his chicken scratch — the newest name additions. He prefers Dolly and Elvira, but on his more active days he goes for references that you don’t even try to make sense of.
Because what do your boobs have to do with rolling a perfect score? What even is a perfect score? You’re fond of Eddie’s antics though, but he doesn’t need to always be privy to this information. So what if you purposely forget your bra during movie nights at his place or study nights at yours? And did Eddie really give two flying fucks if you accidentally stretched one of his shirts out with the soft swell of your chest?
You aren’t the only one with devious little antics. On days when his trailer is sweltering in heat and there’s usually a window air or a fan to satiate the sticky perspiration, Eddie might forget to turn them on. Hell, maybe they don’t even work. It’s a shame you shimmy down to your panties, with nothing more. An absolute tit-tragedy.
On this particular day, you’ve both been under the stresses of school and work. With the last semester’s workload counting more than ever for Eddie, you’ve doubled down to help him wherever, whenever you can. And he has been as equally amazing in volunteering at your job, hanging around and helping you put away stock, making grabby hands that caused your worries to melt into puddles of glittery goo. He’s invited you over for pizza and hot fudge sundaes (on him), to which you’d eagerly obliged. After a two hour study session and numerous Eddie-centric metaphors, followed by a nap inducing meal — you’re currently resting easily on his bed.
This past Christmas you had gotten Eddie his own television, so that Wayne didn’t have to put up with the constant variety of whatever Eddie was watching for the week, giving him his own downtime before his night shifts. It also gave you and your boyfriend more privacy to just relax and be together. You aren’t really sure what’s playing, something that Eddie picked out for the evening. All you know is that it’s Sci-Fi related, and Eddie it makes him happy. After all he’s been through with school and everyone there, you’ll do anything to get him to smile in that doe eyed way that he has about him.
He’s got his head in your lap, your fingers combing through his hair. It’s one of the many positions he’d turned you in throughout the first hour of the film. So it’s not exactly surprising when he shifts again and your head finds his shoulder, cheek able to feel the rise and fall of his chest with every steady breath that he takes. That position lasts another fifteen minutes, give or take, with Eddie once again turning over. This time it’s you in front of him, being spooned from behind, his left arm wrapped around your waist, his right arm propped above him, leaving his elbow to squish into his pillow pile, and his palm resting over top of his cheek. You sign in a blissful pleasure, easing back into him and tugging his arm tighter around your waist until it’s squishing your chest.
You don’t mean to, but this man has you having him touch your chest as much as he does it on the daily. You aren’t sure what happens in the next few minutes of the film, your lids closing you into a doze. The sound of some laser effect on the television set is what rouses you. And that’s when you notice Eddie’s forearm has pushed up your shirt, his wrist dipping underneath, his thumb bad grazing over your bra cup. Already, you can tell what he wants before he knows.
He doesn’t have to ask for permission, but you know he will. It gives you enough leeway to have pity on his poor heart. He’s engrossed in the movie, his chocolate eyes dancing with an intense mirth as you drink him in. You don’t speak, simply lifting from his hold and using your fingertips to lift your bra cups, exposing your chest. You’re aware that it’s worked almost immediately, upon laying back in his arms.
Having your bra halfway up isn’t exactly comfortable, but you wanna see what he’ll do, what you’re sure that he’ll do. Mere seconds go by and his hand snakes back beneath your tee, humming a honey-coated appreciation when he finds your bare breasts filling his hand. He squeezes, rolls, pinches, and tugs on the flesh, as if it’s some toy that he can’t contain himself from playing with. You’re giddy with a smirk, arching into his hold. He’s still glued to the screen, a fight sequence breaking out.
His fingers drape across your sternum and begin to lavish the other globe with affection. You sigh loudly, unable to help yourself.
He has no idea what he does to you sometimes.
#kristenwrites#kink hour#kink hour went soft your#my work#my writing#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things blurb#stranger things 4 fic#stranger things 4 fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things 4 blurb#stranger things 4#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson drabble#stranger things drabble#stranger things 4 drabble
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Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 8
Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors
Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence
Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate
Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.
And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.
A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.
At least that was what he thought at first.
He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.
Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy.
There was no way she could take him seriously.
Aprox. time of reading: 21 minutes
Previous || Next
MASTERLIST
Her eyes instantly rolled when she opened her door and he was coming out, too. She had been trying to forget what happened between them a few days back, and she probably would've volunteered to get a lobotomy if someone knocked at her door with the offer. She enjoyed it, she surely did while they were at it, and even at some point she thought that her neighbor could be a good pick to spend a random night every once in a long while. Until he poke. Jungkook and his annoying tongue always acted right after she tried to walk in his shoes.
He wasn't even that attractive... if it weren't for his strong arm daubed in ink, or the piercings on his lip that made his pouty lips stand out even more, or those wide shoulders where she'd gladly sink her nails on... But that cocky smirk made the pout disappear, and the mock on his voice distracted her from the sin his body was.
Thankfully.
—Yo, 3A. How was your weekend? Jumpy? —he asked, poking his hands in his pants after closing the door.
That word didn't even have the meaning he was trying to give it. There was no point in arguing back with him. The best thing she could do was to simply ignore him.
—No answer? Okay —he sighed—. I've been thinking...
Her eyes went blank when she realized he was the type not to get the hint of when to shut the fuck up. Jungkook just went on, trying to get a reaction from you.
After Carly threw that curse on him, he didn't really have to worry about seeing his hookups a second after sleeping with them, they were always gone by the morning after and he hadn't seen either of them. But there was Y/n, a person he'd have to keep seeing as long as he lived there, and a person that he wouldn't mind keeping in bed with him for a second round if he was offered the chance.
He was attracted, but there was also in the bickering they had going on in the previous week that made him feel... entertained? His neighbor wasn't only dangerous in the sheets, she was also funny and witty.
And he liked that.
—Maybe... One of those days that you need a hand... Instead of using yours, you can use mine.
Jungkook was forced to quickly stop from advancing, turning down every wrong idea he had to hop on the lift with her. Her tongue clicked, while her index lifted with a dangerous warning as she pointed at him.
—Go back to your side.
He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that comment. He thought that after what happened the other night, Y/n would just get over that dumb idea. But he seemingly thought wrong.
—You talked about things. But if I step on your side, will you also do what you want with me?
—Yes, and that includes tying up your tongue and making you eat it —she clicked on the button to call the lift—. Or put you in that arcade box and bury you four meters underground.
—Wait, that's not... —he stopped, thinking of her words.
—What was I even thinking when I fucked with you? —she mumbled, massaging her temple.
—That's an easy one! You were thinking of my —his eyebrows raised, playfully, teasing her— big attractiveness.
—Average —she commented, twisting her lips.
At that comment, Jungkook chuckled, trying to hide the fact that he was indeed offended by her words. Before he was able to land a hand at the side of the lift door, her eyes were already throwing him a warning glance so he would pose that palm on the side that wasn't marked by the tape on the floor.
—Over the average.
—Below average.
Dedicating him one last smile, she stepped inside the lift, clicking on the ground floor button to set an ending for that conversation.
Or so she tried to, before she found an out of breath Jungkook, supporting himself on the wall as he tried to hide his shaky breathing.
—Why don't you just admit you're dying to repeat what happened?
—I'm not the one almost coughing my lungs out —she mentioned, disinterested.
—Because you're keeping it all inside —Jungkook tilted his head, walking in her direction—. You'll feel lighter once you start being honest.
—I'll feel lighter once I get rid of you —before she continued speaking, Y/n made a short pause—. Listen carefully, because I want you to get this as clear as possible: getting in bed with you was the biggest of the mistakes I could've ever made. And never, in my life, I will ever sleep with you again. Are we clear on that?
Jungkook just puckered his lips, adopting a leant back pose as he looked down at her.
—We'll see.
—We're seeing now. It won't happen —she cut him off—. And if I ever end up in the same bed as you again, it'll probably be to choke you with a pillow. Don't ever talk to me again unless it's for something serious —she rolled her eyes.
Jungkook sighed, trying to extend the conversation and the time they were together in the same place, for some odd reason.
—Do you want a ride to your workplace?
—And let you know where I work? —Y/n shook her head— I have enough with you knowing where I live.
Just like that Jungkook saw her go, following the gentle moves of her body as she rushed on the other side of the street to make her way to work. He got captivated in an instant, hooked by the way her hips swayed one way and the other, getting a short flashback of how they looked when they moved on top of him.
He shook his head, trying to move on from that image and concentrate back on anything else that wasn't her. It was a matter of time for Y/n to crawl back to him, and surrender to him the same way he did a few nights back. There was no point in insisting and making a fool of himself when he could have some fun somewhere else in the meantime.
It was all probably due to the new temptation of living in front of someone he had slept with. Before, they usually disappeared the morning after, but Y/n would stay there.
It was interesting to see how that'd play out.
Hanging his helmet by his elbow, Jungkook started dragging his emerald Kawasaki Z650 RS. That motorbike was probably one of his most precious relics, acquired with half of the money he was paid for one of his wins in all of those fights. And he sighed while he remembered the good times, when boxing was actually a thing, and it didn't all depend on the grafts some people did by rigging some of the fights he was in.
Usually he never woke up so early. Hardly ever he had the chance to meet up with Y/n by chance. But that day he'd receive the visit of one of his sponsors, which meant he'd probably get to give some upgrades to the gym that was almost in ruins.
That was the reminder of why he did what he did.
Those fights were a headache in a lot of different senses, but the amount of income, not only monetary, he received was always backed up for it. Last time one of the sponsors was happy with him, he managed to change all of the boxing bags to ones with better quality, and add some machines to actually give it the gym vibes he was looking for when he opened it in the first place.
He parked his motorbike in the narrow alley next to his gym, and that also had a door that connected directly to the office, and that he never used -basically because of the door being stuck.
Jimin huffed when he saw his friend trying to fix his hair, moving his fingers through his locks before his bangs fell over his forehead to cover it.
—What took you so long? —the brunet reproached, walking over to him to snatch the helmet away— Today it was the only day you needed to be here early, yet you are thirty minutes late.
—He isn't here, isn't he? —Jungkook answered, relaxed— Then what are you even talking about? —he huffed at the silence his friend used to answer.
—He could've come by now —Jimin sighed—. You know that dude makes me uncomfortable, and you know how to deal with him.
Jungkook walked past his friend, throwing his head back as he sighed. It wasn't like he knew how to deal with him, but he knew how to talk to him, while Jimin only stared from afar and waited for the inspection to be over.
But it wasn't like he expected him to do more. Jimin was only there as a guide into the gym, and a point of information for the training and schedules.
Nothing else.
And he was already doing more than what he was paid to do.
—I'm sorry —he sighed—. Something came up at the last minute.
Y/n.
Y/n came up at the last minute.
He knew he had to be there at the establishment before the opening time, but he still found himself peeking through the peephole to manage to come out at the same time as her and seeing her. Delusional enough to think what happened two days back would open a door for him instead of closing it on his noses.
—I don't even know why I even try. You always have an excuse for everything —Jimin rolled his eyes.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard, making the typing louder with every tap of her fingers on the latest keys before she was peeking her eyes over the monitor before they fell over her finished article:
"Underground Brawls: Uncovering Illegal Fights in South Shore"
And right below, there was a good quality pic of the two fighters of the night. The blond boy was easily recognizable, while Jungkook's face looked a bit blurry -while the other half was covered by the thick boxing glove. She could've picked many of the other screenshots she made out of the video she managed to film, but something in her kept insisting that the shot was the right one.
Although maybe it wasn't a bad idea to blast her neighbor's face in the middle of the page, linking him to a crime that could take him out of her way.
Her lips twisted with disappointment, thinking there was something off with the article itself. It felt empty. It didn't trap her, and she was sure the chief editor would have an even worse opinion on it.
Y/n got up from her seat after her boss called her into his office, knowing a little bit too well that meant his opinion would be so harsh that it was bad to even say it out loud in front of everyone. She closed the door behind her, assuring herself that she'd keep her own shame trapped in those four walls.
—Is that the article you've been working on? —he lifted one of his thick eyebrows.
—Yeah. I think it's ready to be released on the special of Monday.
—It's not a bad one, but I don't think it's enough.
She wasn't able to know what exactly he meant, as her eyes tried to dig into his blue gaze that kept looking lazily over his screen.
—Police showed up, and somebody also took my phone away before I could take better pictures.
—I don't mean that —he stopped her—. The article is good, the exclusive is great, the content is brilliant, but I think it'd be better to get a bit deeper.
Deeper? She almost ended up either arrested or with her hand cut off by the gangsters who were behind those fights. She knew what the consequences were when someone crossed their boundaries and put their territories at risk, although she had only seen them on things that weren't as important. She couldn't imagine what the consequences would be if they had caught her that night.
—I don't think I understand.
—Try to give something that people haven't seen before. Your article seems more like the script of one of those news anchors. Try to give it a more personal touch.
—A more personal touch?
—Yeah, like trying to do some covert work, or interview one of the fighters... —he shrugged—. Or, if you want to go on with this type of article, try to get more information than just what you've seen. Use as much time as you need, and come back to me when you think you're ready.
—But... the release date? I thought you were in a rush for this.
—Let's leave it aside, alright? Work on it, while you also work on other things. Take your time.
A more personal touch... If she gave it a more personal touch, she'd probably be censored and arrested after writing all the barbarism that went through her head. The owners of the club used the people that were desperate for money, or a career, to to represent their clubs, all while just seeing it all unfold from afar, or by receiving the results of those same fights when they received the envelope with all the betted money. Meanwhile, the high-ups looked at them from their comfortable places as if they were watching a TV show.
It was disgusting.
She threw the pencil over her desk as she approached it, before letting her body fall on the office chair.
At first, she hoped that the first article would sum up chaos in that community, slowly for all of them to crumble and expose themselves, so she could write one last article with the faces of all those involved on the website.
She didn't think the editor would like the article so much to turn it into a full coverage, so now she had to think in a way to make it personal, but not too personal to spill all of her feelings on it.
The location in her phone marked right in front of where she was standing: the shabby and filthy establishment that looked like it'd collapse at any point.
That was the place Jack sent to her.
Apparently a friend of his source trained there a few times per week, while said source kept the club they trained in to themselves so they wouldn't end up in trouble.
Y/n couldn't blame him, and it wasn't like she could see much difference. Seen one, probably seen them all.
From outside she could only spot three people inside the gym, through the wide windows. One of them was training on the boxing bags, while the other two were lying on the ground with two ropes in between them. She could just assume they were probably getting some rest after one of the sets.
—Good morning —she greeted, after stepping inside—. Is any of you the owner of this place?
The two boys whose backs were lying on the ground lifted their heads, looking at her over their knees before they sat to answer her.
—He's busy right now —the tanned one answered.
—So he isn't here? —her frown furrowed as she looked around.
—He is, but he's dealing with something —the dry punches on the boxing bag stopped so she could be able to hear his reply—. Did you book an appointment to his love nest? —her jaw twisted by the cockiness in his tone and the sided smile he dedicated to the other two boys.
When he finally turned to her and stopped bending his arms, she managed to see some small red marks that turned darker on the center, on his inner elbow. Her eyes moved over him quite fast, scanning his features: he was slim, but maybe a bit too much to be a boxer aiming to compete on those fights and thinking he could win, and those dark circles under his eyes kind of gave her a hint of what he could be spending they money of those fights on even if it was left destroyed.
She had seen all that before.
—No, but I bet a look into your bag could send you to one big dude's love nest in jail. How does that sound?
His mocking smile disappeared almost instantly, dedicating one of the younger boys a quick look to motion him somewhere. Right after he demanded him to stand up, and pointed somewhere in that place, the boy disappeared.
Jungkook motioned Peter to leave where he came from, waving his hand in the air as soon as he saw his head peeking through the door to his office. Although either he was blatantly ignoring him, or the few knocks out in the past fight killed some of his brain cells, because his head kept popping inside every few seconds.
—There's someone asking for you —the young boy whispered, when Jungkook interrupted the tall man in a suit in the middle of his office.
—Tell them I'm busy.
—We did, but she's still outside.
Jungkook sighed, wondering who the hell could be in such a hurry to see him at that exact moment, right when he was in the middle of getting a few improvements for his business.
—Tell her to get lost then?
—I think she's a cop.
Could be it was her imponent aura, or how she didn't double down when Rob tried to intimidate her. Or how she stepped inside like she was looking for something more than just aerobic lessons.
His blood froze at the mere idea of it, looking at Peter with wide eyes before he quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure the man inside didn't hear a single thing he said. Elijah was a serious person in general, but he was completely strict over anything related to his image. The last thing he needed was dealing with a cop right in that moment. He couldn't scare Elijah away.
—I'll be right back —Jungkook announced.
One look was demanding him to stay, Jimin was trying to convince him that whatever was happening outside wasn't more important than what was going on in that ofice. But Jungkook left either way.
To no one's surprise.
As he walked through the corridor, his head just tried to get to the way to kick that person away from his gym. There was no way they could be there for neither of those fights. Last time he received one of those visits was five years back, and he managed to get away from it quite easily.
His walk slowed down when he recognized that brown long thin coat, shaking his head as he tried to take her out of his head. Not only was she constantly in his head while he was at home, now he was also seeing her in a cop?
—You have to be kidding me —Y/n whispered.
As soon as she saw the thin boy looking over her shoulder, along with some steps sounding at her back, she knew she got what she went there for. Although the smallest glimpse of victory disappeared when she saw her neighbor walking next to the other boy that welcomed her earlier.
—Nice to see you, too —Jungkook tilted his head—. I know you can't stop thinking about me, and whatnot. But can you not tell people you're a cop to have an excuse to see me?
—I didn't say I was a cop —she frowned.
Her eyes instantly moved to the short-haired guy, who lowered his gaze and walked past her to go back to the place he was sitting on before she interrupted.
—Also I'm not looking for you, I'm looking for the owner of this hole.
Jungkook felt tempted to tell her he was indeed the owner of said hole, but he knew she'd only throw one of her bothersome phrases, like "It makes sense that you are".
—Why are you looking for him, Hops?
—That's something I will tell him only —she crossed her arms, not falling into his provocations—. Can you get lost somewhere and stop wasting my time?
—Princess, I'm already telling you you don't need to pull up any excuses...
—Don't you ever shut up? —her eyes rolled before she turned to him— I'm here to talk about the fight you were in a few weeks ago, not about your dick and your size complex.
His face drastically changed, although she didn't know if it was because of the way she teased him back for what happened that damned night. His fingers enclosed around her elbow, motioning her to walk out of the gym
—You have to leave.
—What? —her heels stepped on the ground as hard as she was able to, trying to make sure he would have a hard time moving her body away.
—You have to leave.
—I'll leave if I want to —her voice cracked by the strength fight they had going on.
All that push and pull ended before Jungkook was able to move her body one step away from where they were, by a sedated deep voice behind him.
—Any problem, Jeon?
—No, nothing.
Jungkook stepped closer to her, trying to cover her up with his body. The few seconds it'd take Elijah to get bored of that pathetic situation before he stepped back into the office.
—It didn't seem like nothing.
With two taps on his shoulder, the man with slicked black hair was warning him that he'd probably push him, and that it was better for him not to fight it back as much as she was.
—Your face looks familiar —Elijah murmured when he finally was able to see Y/n properly.
Of course she was familiar. He was at the fight, and he was the one who sent one of his men in her direction so she'd stop recording after being caught. He didn't want to know what Y/n's response could be to that, his head was working faster than her tongue, turning his body towards Elijah to speak again.
—She's my girlfriend.
Elijah's lips puckered, lifting both of his eyebrows in surprise as he completely ignored the confused look on Y/n's face after Jungkook came up with that.
—You probably remember her because she was in one of the fights —he mentioned, stepping closer to her—. The girl whose phone you broke?
The oldest man's face finally expressed the click on his brain after Jungkook shared that last bit of information, finally getting an idea of who she was.
—Technically, it wasn't me. But yeah.
There were several possible answers going through Y/n's head at that moment. But she chose to be careful, rather than making use of her sharp tongue.
—She was filming me, she loves watching me fight —he started to explain, wrapping his arm around her shoulders—. She's one big fan, I'm almost like a god to her, righ...Ah!
His body squirmed when she managed to pinch his side with two of his fingers, grasping a slim bit of skin on the area of his ribs.
—I think you're confusing what you feel about yourself with what I feel about you... love —she smiled at him.
Elijah looked disinterested as soon as the people in front of him seemed to start having one of those couple bickerings that only made him cringe.
—Right... I already talked with Jimin, but I'll send you more details through email. I gotta leave now, but I hope to see you soon —he dedicated those last words to Y/n, making her gulp thick.
Both of them stayed hugged to each other, until he disappeared from one of the windows. Almost as she was relieved from a heavy lift, she pushed Jungkook away, slapping his shoulder.
—What's wrong with you? Wh... Hey! —she called him out.
Jungkook dragged her away from any public area, getting her to walk to the office. It wasn't like that assured them more privacy, but at least gave him the idea of it.
The way he stepped inside the room with her made Jimin get up from his chair and look at the both of them, trying to understand what was going on before either of them could try to give him an explanation that would either be a lie or would make no sense.
—Should I leave you two alone? —he asked.
—No —Jungkook rushed to answer.
—Yes —Y/n said at the same time.
—Alright, then.
Jimin sighed, picking up his phone before he made his way to the door, closing it up right after he left the small office.
—Do you know who that man was? —Jungkook answered the question she asked before he dragged her there— I was just saving your careless ass. Normal people say "Thank you".
—Normal people also warn the other person before pulling that dumb act that no one with working brain cells would buy —she replied back—. "Hey, I have a dangerous gangster in my office. Come back in thirty minutes'' it'd have been great, actually. But obviously your dick and your ego were more important, that didn't click some sense into you.
—You're never happy with anything I do, right?
Y/n simply shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest while her eyes were still fixed on him. Jungkook simply sighed, overwhelmed by how difficult to handle she actually was. Nothing was well done, no words were proper either... How was he supposed to deal with her at all?
—I don't really know why you were playing around so much, instead of saying you were the owner of this place —she mentioned, looking around.
—Why would you want to know?
—Because I told you I needed to see the owner —she mocked his tone—. Business.
—Business? —he scoffed, raising both of his eyebrows.
—Not really business, but similar.
—I'm intrigued now.
As the minutes went by and the tension slowly went easier on them, Jungkook felt free to relax again, moving over his office to support his back over the edge of his desk. Y/n followed his movements, finding herself disconnecting from reality, and concentrating a bit too much on how his tattoos moved by the way his muscles flexed when he crossed his arms over his chest, imitating her pose.
—Remember the reason why I went to the fight? My editor wants me to...
—No.
—You don't even know what I was going to say.
—I don't care. It's a no.
—Honestly, I wasn't really asking for permission —she started moving in his direction—. I was just telling you you're going to help me.
His serious expression quickly changed, molding to his smile and the cackle that came from the deepest part of his throat when she mentioned that. Annoyed by how he didn't want to take her seriously, she sighed, sinking her hand inside one of the pockets of her jacket to take her phone out and look for a picture in the gallery before she placed it in front of his face, at the height of his eyes.
Slowly, his laugh decreased its volume, until it completely disappeared. He could only focus on the image in her hand. He was clearly visible on that ring, even if the shot wasn't in the best quality his face and tattoos were on full display, enough to make him recognizable to anyone who knew him.
—What about it? —his tone was calm, trying to hide how nervous he actually was.
—If you don't help me, your face will be all over the news by next Monday.
—And your corpse will appear in the gutter by Monday night —he answered back.
—You really think I'm scared of that? —she challenged him.
—The people that work for the man you met before will reduce you to nothing, I'm just warning you because I know how they work.
While he gave her something to focus her attention on, Jungkook moved, trying to snatch the phone away from her hand. Y/n was faster anyway. Her reflex had her moving her hand away on her back before he was able to move a centimeter closer to her. His arm was wrapped around her body, and her torso was rubbing against his chest while they were so dangerously close that he could even smell the strawberry gum scent that came out of her lips.
If he wasn't so annoyed, he probably would be kissing her.
—I want an answer before eleven —she whispered—. I'll write this article with or without your help.
There was something in him that had her wanting to be glued to him for a bit more, just five seconds more. But she stepped back while the third second was still processing in her brain, starting to perceive that subtle cigarette scent that came from him.
—That's blackmailing, and it's also a crime.
—Says the person who broke into my home and also filmed me without my consent to, surprise, blackmail me. I want an answer by eleven, 3B —she mocked the way he used to refer to her—. Have a good afternoon.
Jungkook watched her go, supporting the weight of his body on the edge of the desk as his head fell back.
That woman was the biggest pain in the ass he had ever met.
Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett
#armpirate#jungkook smut#jk smut#jungkooksmut#army#boxer#bts#btsfanfic#btsff#btsjungkook#btssmut#btsxreader#fanfic#ff#jeongguk#jeonjungkook#jk#jkxreader#jungkook#jungkookxreader#kook#kookie#kpop#reader#readerinsert#anti-romantic#smut#wattpad
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