#I love this man I will SCREAM IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ja3yun · 2 months ago

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On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day.

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist.

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win.

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either.

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick.

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward.

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop.

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again.

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.”

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him.

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air.

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space.

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept.

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking.

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around.

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown.

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.”

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday.

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger.

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy.

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him.

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?”

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom.

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?”

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice.

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock.

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through.

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family.

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders.

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard.

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this.

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago.

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.”

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers.

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some - that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier - you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA.

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment.

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably.

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right.

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine.

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it.

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?”

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues.

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought.

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose.

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more.

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts.

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most.

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep.

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow.

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it.

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities.

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…”

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen - and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning.

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate.

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway.

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it.

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite.

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another.

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white.

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance.

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy.

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock.

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace.

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you.

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible.

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.”

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes.

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige.

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull.

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn.

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity.

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes.

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #aj writes #jake x reader #jaeyun smut #jaeyun x reader #enha x reader #enhypen x reader

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edandstede · 11 months ago

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also how softly stede says “there we go” when he folds the silk into ed’s pocket? he is gentle just for the sake of being gentle, because it really is second-nature and instinct for stede to treat ed with love. he knows ed is vulnerable in this scene, is second-guessing himself, is hurt over how the night ended. and he’s been there, he’s dealt with people like that all his life, he knows how deep it can cut. and he handles ed with care, the way nobody ever has with him when those posh knobs hurt him. he refuses to let ed suffer the same. he says “no, don’t listen to them, you are sophisticated and you do wear fine things well, i’m sorry tonight was a bust but i’m here and i think you’re wonderful” and he never lets ed think for a second that he’s anything other than worthy. he holds ed’s smile, and he turns around again to smile one last time after saying goodnight. THAT’S HIS ED.

you ever just think about how truly sweet stede is on ed. takes him on a treasure hunt because he thinks he’ll enjoy it. busts down his own door because ed’s upset and says he’s ed’s friend when ed says he has none. learns how he takes his tea. sets two places at his breakfast table every morning. gently but firmly insists ed stand down when he’s angry and hurt and goes to deal with ed’s tormenters himself. reassures him he’s sophisticated when ed is being hard on himself, and tells him he wears fine things well with the biggest sparkliest warmest smile. lip-wobble cries when ed leaves with jack, and beams like the sun when he comes back. watches ed’s fuckery excitedly like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, and suggests the theatre of fear as a name for it. he’s so enthralled by ed, so obviously falling in love, and it’s never any less of a joy to watch.

#i just want to scream from the rooftops how much stede loves him #he loves him as easy as breathing just like mary said #it isn’t even a conscious thought #ed lives between every beat of his fucking heart man. he’s right there in his pulse.#he said ‘you’re a good man ed’ when they first met and never wavered on it once #his good man ed ❤️#quill to paper #ofmd #ed x stede

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enigmaticsal · 2 years ago

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AIGHT I'M BACK HERE TO SCREAM ABOUT THE UNCANNY COUNTER AND HOW BEAUTIFUL OF A KDRAMA IT IS like there is so much screaming to be done I am going to brace myself to unleash it all :D

#sal watches: uncanny counter 🤍❤️🖤#GOOD GOD HAYE BHAGWAN THIS DRAMA IS VERY VERY AMAZING #second favourite after days i WILL scream it from the rooftops #got me howling and excited about life again it is a big moment indeed aaaaaaaaa #MAN I LOVE THIS CAST AND STORYLINE AND SO MUN

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writeriguess · 1 month ago

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Omg, your Bakugo fic Heart of Dynamite was so good!! Had me all up in my feels lol.

Here's an idea for you: Fem!reader and Katsuki are good friends and they have undeniable chemistry, but neither have acknowledged it or what it means. But reader get severely injured in a villain attack and ends up in the hospital fighting for her life. Katsuki finally admits to himself that he does in fact love her and desperately pleads for her to wake up so he can tell her.

Happy ending of course, and first kiss? ♡

author's note: Thank you <3

What It Means

The city was in chaos.

You barely had time to catch your breath before another wave of civilians came at you, their eyes glazed over, movements jerky yet disturbingly determined. Their screams echoed through the ruined streets, a mixture of agony and forced rage, as they lunged at you with makeshift weapons—bricks, pipes, even their own bare hands.

It was all because of him.

“You heroes are so predictable,” the villain sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. He stood on a crumbling rooftop, the tattered ends of his coat fluttering in the wind. “All this power, yet you hesitate. You can’t even fight back properly, can you?”

Your grip on your weapon tightened. He wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. The civilians—these people—were innocent. You couldn’t just cut through them like any other enemy. The hesitation, the careful dodging, the constant effort to subdue instead of hurt… It slowed you down. It slowed everyone down.

And the bastard knew it.

“I could end this right now,” he continued, stretching his arms behind his head lazily. “One little command, and they all turn on each other instead. Imagine that… You wouldn’t even have to get your hands dirty. They’d do all the work for me.”

A furious blast of fire shot past your shoulder, barely missing your head. Katsuki landed beside you, his palms still smoking, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. “Why don’t you come down here and say that, freak?”

The villain laughed, a grating sound that made your skin crawl. “Oh, Bakugou, Bakugou, Bakugou… Always so brash. So explosive. But even you know you can’t just blow them up. That’d make you no better than me.”

Katsuki’s growl was low and dangerous, his body tense like he was barely holding himself back. You knew he was struggling, just like you. Every hero in the field was. The battle was turning into a nightmare.

More civilians attacked. You moved on instinct, twisting around a woman swinging wildly at you with a crowbar, disarming her with a precise strike to the wrist. She crumpled, unconscious but unharmed. A man charged next, screaming incoherently, his pupils blown wide with unnatural bloodlust. You dodged, swept his legs out from under him, and knocked him out with a quick chop to the back of the neck.

But the numbers didn’t stop. For every one you took down, three more surged forward.

Katsuki blasted them back with controlled explosions, never enough to burn, just to incapacitate. But even he was breathing harder, his usual reckless abandon curbed by the damn situation.

“We’re getting nowhere like this,” you muttered, shifting into a defensive stance as more enthralled civilians surrounded you.

“No shit,” he snapped, glancing at the rooftop. The villain was still there, watching, smirking.

Then he moved.

A blur.

Before you could react, a force slammed into you like a freight train.

Your body was airborne.

The world spun.

The impact knocked the air from your lungs as you crashed through a shattered storefront, glass slicing through your hero suit and biting into your skin. You barely had time to register the pain before the villain was on you, his hand around your throat, yanking you up.

“Tch,” he scoffed, tilting his head. “You’re pretty, you know that? A shame you’re on the wrong side.”

You struggled, gripping his wrist, but his strength was monstrous. His fingers tightened, and the edges of your vision blurred.

A roar—familiar, raw, furious—pierced through the haze.

Then boom.

Katsuki’s explosion sent the villain flying, his grip loosening just enough for you to suck in a ragged breath. You collapsed to your knees, coughing, the taste of iron heavy on your tongue.

“Oi,” Katsuki was at your side in an instant, gripping your arm. His hands were trembling. “You okay?”

You nodded, barely. Lying. You felt like you’d been hit by a truck.

The villain was already back on his feet, dusting himself off like he hadn’t just been blown halfway across the street.

“You two have chemistry,” he mused, cracking his neck. “Unspoken tension. How tragic it’ll be when one of you dies.”

Katsuki moved before he finished the sentence, his explosions roaring through the air. The villain dodged at impossible speeds, weaving through Katsuki’s attacks like water slipping through fingers.

And then—

Pain.

Blinding.

A scream tore from your throat before you even understood what had happened.

Blood.

It pooled at your feet, warm and sticky, seeping through your fingers as you clutched your side. A deep, jagged wound carved into you, muscle torn apart. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed.

Your vision blurred, darkened.

Distantly, you heard Katsuki roar your name.

More explosions. More screams. A battle raging on without you.

You were lifted. Strong arms cradled you against a warm, trembling chest. The familiar scent of smoke and sweat and him wrapped around you.

Katsuki was running. Running like the world was ending. His heart thundered beneath your ear, fast, erratic.

“Stay awake,” he barked, his voice raw, desperate.

You wanted to. You tried. But the pain was so much. The darkness pulled harder.

“Damn it, don’t you fucking—” His voice cracked.

You swore you felt something warm drip onto your cheek.

The last thing you heard before everything faded was him whispering your name, over and over, like he could hold you together just by saying it.

Then—nothing.

The world was cold.

Distant.

Muted beeps echoed through the silence, rhythmic and steady. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and clinical. Soft murmurs, the shuffle of footsteps, the quiet hum of machines keeping you tethered to life.

You didn’t feel the pain anymore. Not really. Just a dull, distant ache that existed somewhere far away from where you were.

But outside of the void swallowing you whole, the world was still moving.

Katsuki hadn’t moved from his chair in hours.

His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes—red and rimmed with exhaustion—stared straight ahead at the unmoving form on the hospital bed. At you.

Wires and tubes. Machines and bandages. Bruises and pale, lifeless skin.

He felt sick.

It had been two days. Two fucking days since you collapsed in his arms, since he carried you out of that nightmare, screaming at the paramedics to do something. Two days since he watched them work frantically to stop the bleeding, saw your heartbeat nearly flatline before they finally stabilized you.

Two days since you slipped into a coma.

The doctors said you were strong. That you had a chance. That you just needed time.

But every second that passed without you waking up felt like another piece of him was being ripped away.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His fingers trembled, but he clenched them into fists before the shaking could take hold.

He wasn’t going to lose you.

The door creaked open. He didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge the quiet footsteps that entered the room.

“Bakugou.”

It was Kirishima. His voice was soft, careful, like he was afraid of setting Katsuki off.

Katsuki didn’t answer.

“You should eat something,” Kirishima tried again. “Rest. You’ve been here since—”

“I’m not leaving.”

A pause. A sigh. “She wouldn’t want you to—”

“I said I’m not leaving.”

Kirishima didn’t argue. He just pulled up a chair and sat beside him, resting his arms on his knees as they both stared at you.

“…She’ll wake up,” Kirishima said, voice steady. “She’s too stubborn not to.”

Katsuki swallowed hard, his jaw tight. He wanted to believe that. He needed to believe that.

But the longer you lay there, motionless and silent, the more the fear sank in.

What if you never opened your eyes again?

What if the last thing he ever said to you was yelled in the heat of battle, instead of—

His hands clenched. His throat burned.

He hadn’t said it. Not once. Not even when he wanted to.

And now, you might never hear it.

The days blurred together.

Katsuki refused to leave. The nurses tried, Kirishima tried, hell, even Deku had the audacity to show up and tell him to take care of himself. But none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was you.

He stayed by your side, watching, waiting, silently willing you to wake up.

You didn’t.

Your body healed. The doctors were hopeful. But you still weren’t there.

And it was killing him.

He wanted to hear your voice. To see you roll your eyes at one of his grumbled complaints, to feel you nudge his arm when he was being too much of an ass. He wanted you to fight back, to argue with him, to be you again.

But most of all—

He wanted to tell you.

It had been clawing at his chest for days now, twisting and burning, suffocating him with the weight of everything he’d been too much of a coward to say.

So he finally did.

It was late, the hospital quiet except for the beeping of the machines and the distant murmur of night-shift nurses in the hall. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the floor. Katsuki sat hunched over in the chair beside your bed, his forehead resting against his clasped hands.

He exhaled shakily. “This is bullshit.”

His voice was rough, hoarse from lack of sleep, but he kept going.

“You’re just laying there, like some weak-ass extra, when I know you’re stronger than this. It’s pissing me off.”

Silence.

Katsuki sucked in a breath, his throat tightening. His fingers curled around the edge of the bed.

“I—” He hesitated, gritting his teeth before forcing the words out. “I can’t do this shit without you.”

The admission made his chest ache. But it was true.

He’d spent so long ignoring it, shoving it down, pretending the pull between you was nothing more than friendly chemistry, that his need to be around you was just habit.

But the truth had been staring him in the face this entire time. He’d just been too damn scared to see it.

“I should’ve said it sooner.” His voice was raw now, unsteady. “I was a fucking coward. Thought if I ignored it, if I just kept things the way they were, it’d be fine. But it wasn’t fine. And now you’re here, and I—”

His hand found yours, warm fingers curling around your still ones.

His grip tightened.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely more than breath.

He bowed his head, pressing his forehead against your hand. “So wake up. Please.”

Another pause. Another silence. Another beat of the machines.

And then—

A twitch.

His breath caught. His head snapped up, eyes locked on your fingers as they twitched again, just barely, but enough.

His heart slammed against his ribs. “Oi,” he rasped, standing so fast the chair scraped against the floor. “Oi.”

A flutter of eyelashes. A sharp inhale.

Then, finally—

Your eyes opened.

Dazed. Confused. Blinking sluggishly against the dim light.

But open.

Something inside Katsuki broke. Relief hit him like a punch to the gut, so intense it made his knees weak.

“About damn time,” he muttered, voice rough with something he refused to call tears.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, and the second recognition flickered in your tired eyes, he was done for.

You opened your mouth, but your voice came out cracked, barely there. “Did I—”

“You almost died.” His grip on your hand tightened. “Don’t ever do that again.”

A weak smirk tugged at your lips. “Wasn’t exactly my plan, Bakugou.”

His heart clenched. He hadn’t heard your voice in so long.

He should’ve said something witty back, should’ve snapped at you like normal, but his body moved before his brain could catch up.

His hand cupped your face, and he was so close, warmth radiating from him, breaths mingling. His thumb brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Then, carefully—almost hesitant—he kissed you.

Soft. Gentle. Uncharacteristically tender.

You exhaled against his lips, fingers weakly reaching up to tangle in his shirt.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breaths still uneven.

“You better not make me say that shit again,” he muttered.

You smiled—tired, but real. “Say what?”

His lips twitched. “You know what.”

You closed your eyes briefly, still exhausted, but when you spoke again, your voice was warm.

“I love you too, dumbass.”

Katsuki let out a sharp exhale, relief and something softer settling deep in his chest.

“Damn right you do.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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x-gabrielle-x · 6 months ago

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Sweet Like Candy

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader.

Warning: MDNI, Oral (F receiving), fingering, swearing, masked Dick.

Summary: Nightwing might just think you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

"I didn't think you'd come," you breathed as Nightwing's lips traveled from the nape of your neck down to your collar bone, your head tilting to allow him more access to your skin that he practically devoured.

He pressed a few more open kisses to your flesh, leaving marks in his wake before he pulled back slightly, a dazed look to his gaze despite the mask.

"How could I miss this opportunity?" Just as quickly, he was back to kissing you. "You taste so good."

The cool night breeze caused for goosebumps to litter your skin, and sitting on a rooftop of Gotham city with Nightwing was not exactly ideal, but in the current moment you couldn't care.

Your breaths became more irregular, and gently Nightwing pushed you onto your back, hands beside your head as he sucked at your neck some more.

"Relax," he trailed, hands running along your body. You gasped as his hand squeezed at one of your breasts, before he began to go down your body.

You lifted your head, eyeing him curiously when he gave you a small smirk, his black mask staring back at you. His gloved hands worked at your pants effortlessly, pulling them off along with your panties and throwing them off to the side, forgotten.

When he made no movement, you attempted to close your legs from the outside breeze and his burning gaze, but his arms were quickly pushing at the plush of your thighs, keeping them apart.

He clicked his tongue. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl," he whispered, your bare pussy only mere inches from his face. "Let me have a taste."

You let out a moan when you felt his warm tongue lay flat against your cunt, sliding up and collecting all your juices onto his tongue. Your fingers racked through his hair harshly, and you swore you may have even pulled some of his hair out, but it didn't seem to bother him too much. He was lapping at your pussy eagerly, and you let out a curse when his lips latched onto your clit. He gave it a small suck.

"Oh my god," your back arched up, trying to keep you as close to him as possible, but he only let out a chuckle that vibrated throughout your body. You shivered from the vibrations of pleasure it sent.

"So sweet," he mumbled against you.

He was slurping at your cunt like it was his last meal, his tongue fucking into you and swirling around. You already declared that this was better than what any man has ever given you. Your slick was coating his mouth and chin, though he pulled back and inhaled a large chunk of air.

"You taste fucking delicious," he breathed, staring your pussy down as his fingers came up to toy with your clit. You let out another moan and resisted the urge to close your legs.

He pinched and swirled at it teasingly, one of his fingers eventually dipping into you and curving upward, hitting your g-spot. His finger slid in and out, in and out. Then a second finger. In and out, in and out.

Your hands were desperately searching for anything to stable themselves against, since now you didn't have his hair to tug on. In the end, the only thing you could grasp onto was his left arm that was holding your leg down. Nightwing glanced up and gave another one of his charming smirks.

Although you and Nightwing have had these reoccurring 'meetups' many times before, you never asked the lingering question you wished to ask him when he was pleasuring you.

"Wha-" you were cut off by a strangled moan, and you tried again despite the coursing pleasure building in your lower stomach. "What's your name?"

You wanted to scream it, to moan it, you needed to have him.

His mask only shook back at you. "Nothing you need to know right now, my love," he delved down to suckle at your clit again, and the buildup was finally beginning to become too much for you to handle.

Your breaths were erratic, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. Nightwing loved the sight, your body adorned and glowing in your sweat and your glistening pussy presented just for him. All him.

With a few more pumps of his fingers and a particularly harsh suck to your swollen clit, your orgasm washed over you in a massive wave. Your thighs shook and overstimulation was all you could feel when Nightwing was collecting your last few juices on his tongue, swallowing eagerly.

You were definitely right. Nightwing was the best pleasure anybody could've given you.

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

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THIS DUO AS CAT!READER X LUCIFER!

prompt: a sinner comes into the hotel not expecting to gain a friend so quickly because of their personality.

Note: you can be like a humanoid cat or just a normal sinner with cat ears and tail.

This man fell in love so fucking QUICKKK

He loves you as you first came or when he first met you in the hotel! Like literally this man after petting KeeKee, wanted to pet you next as your fluffy cat ears flicker at his dumb stare at you. You scoffed and went to husk to who gave you a shot a whiskey before hand.

Now after he started living in the hotel, you better be prepared to have this man clinging to you. It’s like if he is the cat instead of you being the cat in this troupe. Literally Lucifer will always be beside you smiling as he tries to pet you. You just use your hand to smack it away quickly with your reflexes.

How dare he even pet you like a cat and you purr uncontrollably on his lap. 😭💗

I can see you just literally clawing the ceiling because Lucifer tried to spray you with water and you were actually acting demonic as fuck😭 pure red eyes and loud raspy hissing.

If you are shorter than Lucifer, he is most definitely picking you up like a baby, doll, pet, you name it. He dead ass would try to flirt with you or just want you to praise his duck making and his building skills. Would wrap his arm(s) around your waist while you bear your teeth at him. Yeah you scratched him, but it’s definitely your love language! 😍 Lucifer had heart eyes as you were forced to tend to the scratches you gave him. Bros whipped, I mean he loves cat, you’re basically like a cat. You two are a match made in hell🤭.

If you are taller than Lucifer, you better pamper him. Cause you being taller makes him feel more attractive to you as he definitely has a thing for taller things. He probably will fly up to your face to get you’re attention, he’s like a love starving puppy wanting to get your longing attention as you are just a cat who has a bitch attitude towards love things. Literally one time you put your foot paw/foot to his damn face as he was trying to pet you. This man will never get tired of your attitude towards him. You probably do pick him up by his coat like a damn kitten with your hand as you stare tired from hearing his yapping.

Imagine how you literally run like a cat because you are faster on all fours so Lucifer will get on your back sometimes for fun and literally holds on tight cause you weren’t playing about being fast as fuck.

Headcannon on you shedding from your tail and Lucifer would happily clean it up so you won’t get scowled. He loves treating you like a baby, but he is the baby.

Back when you were alive, you were homeless. So that made you have a rough cattish look in hell, like a stray cat. But all you knew was how to street fight. Not a professional fighting way. So imagine you fighting some type of hotel guest and they were piss off at how you basically gave them a “dirty look.” They gave you a swing and BOOM BOOM BOOM! You gave that hoe a three piece combo to the face. Literally there was people screaming shocked and people hyping you up. You didn’t hit them as they hit the ground not getting up. But you most definitely dragged that person out by their shirt.

You had one time actually roundhouse kicked Lucifer on accident because it was dark in your room and he wanted to wake you up. Never in Lucifer’s life has he gotten his ass kicked by a sinner before.

I imagine Lucifer gifting you rubber ducks and you just smile a little liking how you are being loved but your heart closed as you think he is just playing with you.

You literally jumped and stretched around the rooftops as Lucifer flies above you finding you amazing. You are like hell hound but a feline as your body is easy to stretch and how you are so flexible.

I headcannon you actually curled your tail would Lucifer’s wrist or waist as Lucifer was going crazy in his head. Like bouncing around mentally as he just looks so calm outside

Imagine how Lucifer found it hot when you cornered him when he annoyed you to the point you pinned him to the wall with a scary expression.

I can see you sometimes just staying silent, scowling people as Lucifer just smiles.

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latenightdaydreams · 11 months ago

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Can you write about Viking!Konig who's the leader of his clan. One time he raids a random village and meets fem!reader, who's beautiful with her hazel eyes and round breasts. Then he takes her as his wife!!!!! Ahhhhh I'm crazy about this. I'm sorry for asking too much 😭😭😭 BTW thank you for accepting my previous request ❤❤❤ love ya so muchhhhh

König is 100000% a boobie man and I will die on that hill😮‍💨 lmao, I LOVE this!!!! Don't ever feel bad for requesting. I'm having a bit of a writers block and this story helped me find my flow again🩷. I hope you're well and taking care of yourself🥰🥰

Viking!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, violence, naughty thoughts

1.0k word count

Part 2 Part 3

You wake up from your slumber hearing the screams from your neighbors in the small village you live in. You rush past your family who is now also scrambling to their feet, your husband rushing to gather himself as your children panic. You open your door slightly to see rooftops on fire and dead bodies lying in the roads.

Quickly, you close the door and turn to your husband with wide eyes, “Callum, it’s Vikings…” Your voice shakes with fear. You’ve heard stories from other villages about their attacks, leaving nothing but death and sorrow in their paths.

“We have to run, grab the children!” Callum whispers loudly as you stand there feeling overwhelmed with emotions. Everyone always assumed this village would be safe, untouchable, but this proved them all wrong.

Rushing to your children, you quickly squat down, “We are going to have to run, as fast as you can, okay?”

The children nod their heads crying, your oldest trying to be brave for you. Just then you all jump as the door is flung open. Screaming, you turn to see three big men and an equally large woman enter your home. An even bigger man, ducks to enter your home. Your eyes go wide seeing him, you’ve heard of the giant Viking man, but you assumed he was more of a myth to instill fear in people.

Using your body to shield your children as you step in front of them, you look to your husband. Callum seems to be frozen in fear, unable to even breathe. There’s a moment where no one moves and it’s quiet other than the sounds of your children crying.

The large man has a mask covering his face, his pale blue eyes are the only part of his face that is visible in the low light in the home. He has an aura about him that could strike fear in any warrior’s heart.

“P-please leave us, we don’t have much.” You speak up, your voice trembling.

The leader turns to two of the other Vikings and speaks to them in a language that you’ve never heard before. They nod and move to my husband, restraining him. He screams and the woman hits him, making you fear for your lives more. You look up wide eyed as the tall man begins to approach you.

König sees the family before him, a man frozen in fear, three children cowering behind their mother, and then their mother… you. A small but brave woman, brave enough to speak up when her husband couldn’t. It makes him impressed, wondering what type of woman could be so bold.

König approaches you with a hungry look in his eyes. His gaze drops down to the way the thin fabric of your nightgown clings to your body. Your breasts are massive and perfectly round, nipples hard and poking through the fabric. König has always loved a woman with large breasts and a little extra. Your breasts looking so perfectly full, his mind begins to wonder if you are still feeding your youngest. Your body is simply perfect for him.

“Name?” König asks in a low voice.

“Leave her alone!” Your husband shouts, trying to protect you. He gets hit by one of the people restraining him.

“I- I’m y/n.” You respond trying to be brave.

The closer he got the more his true size became obvious. The smell of his clothes-stained copper from the blood and his natural musk filled your nostrils. You feel small as he towers over you. His eyes are still wandering your body.

“I’m König.” He says finally.

He feels himself getting lost in your eyes as he takes in the beautiful color. You gaze up at him with the most stunning sage green eyes speckled with golden brown. The most beautiful hazel eyes he has ever seen. Gently he raises a hand to your face and caresses it, leaving a streak of blood behind. Your skin is so soft to his large and rough hand. He can only imagine the rest of you is this soft.

“Is this your husband?” He points to Callum.

“Yes, and these are our children. Please, we are simply farmers. We don’t have much.”

“Hm, I see.” König takes a deep breath and looks down at your breasts again. “Are you still feeding the youngest?”

“Y-yes…” You answer hesitantly wondering what type of question is that.

That is exactly what he wanted to hear. You are not only bold, daring, and beautiful; but also soft, desirable, and can create children for him. This is what he’s been looking for, and he finds you here. Wasting your milk on a weak man’s offspring.

“Perfect, you’ll be coming with me.”

Your jaw drops stunned as you look up at him shaking your head no, “I- I can’t leave my family. My husband-”

“That man? He’s not worthy of you. You deserve more, and I intend on giving it to you. Now please Liebling, don’t fight.”

König steps to you and grabs your arm to pull you away from your children. Your husband begins to yell at König, saying that he can’t do this. He can’t just take you. Your children stand confused, not understanding the whole situation completely while the youngest cries.

“Please, don’t.” You whimper, looking back at your family as he drags you away.

“You’ll be happy with me. You aren’t a farmer's wife, you’re a queen. My queen. Now come.” König scoops you up into his arms bridal style, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your thighs as he carries you away from your small home.

“Don’t worry, my people will let your family live.” König whispers to you as he walks. His eyes are drifting down your body. He feels the anticipation rising as he begins to walk you back to his clan’s ship on the coast near your village. He wants you in his home, in his bed, undressed where he can enjoy you and gaze into your eyes as he makes you cum. Soon.

Part 2, Part 3

#konig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #konig cod #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader smut #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you #viking könig

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doumadono · 6 months ago

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Synopsis: Dabi finds unexpected solace and love in the arms of an ordinary woman he once saved, proving that even the darkest hearts can find their way home

A/N: this episode left me heartbroken for my poor Touya, so I decided to treat him with love he deserves. I'm utterly sad 😢

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The wind whipped through Dabi's hair as he stood atop an abandoned building, leaning against the edge of the rooftop with his hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets. The city below was a mess of flickering neon signs and honking traffic, a world that moved on, unaware of the moments happening above it. For once, the usually calm and collected villain felt a knot in his stomach — a nervousness he hadn’t experienced in years. He hated this. Hated how you, a mere ordinary citizen, managed to make him feel things he thought were long dead inside him. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the way his pulse quickened when he thought about you.

"She’s not gonna come," he muttered to himself, voice rough, filled with doubt. He almost scoffed at the idea of you agreeing to this date. Why would you? You were sweet, kind, and everything he was not. And he… well, he was Dabi, the infamous villain with a reputation that made grown men tremble. It was laughable, really.

But then, like a flicker of light in the darkness, he heard footsteps approaching from the stairwell. He turned his head sharply, heart pounding in his ears. And there you were, panting softly from the climb, with that same fire in your eyes that had caught his attention months ago.

The first time you met him, you’d been terrified.

You were on your way home after a long shift at the café, your feet aching and your mind foggy with exhaustion. The streets were eerily quiet, shadows stretching under the dim streetlights, and an unsettling feeling crept up your spine. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, trying to shake off the chill, but it only deepened when you glanced back and saw him — a violent drunk man, staggering and leering, closing in on you.

“Hey,” he slurred, his breath reeking of cheap liquor, “why you in such a hurry, sweetheart?”

Panic constricted your throat, and you picked up your pace, desperately hoping he’d lose interest. But just as you thought you might be safe, you felt it — a rough hand gripping your wrist, yanking you back with an iron grip, alcohol-stained, heavy breath fanning your cheek. “Don’t walk away from me,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. “I’m talking to you.”

The fear froze you in place, every muscle locked up as you struggled against his hold, feeling utterly helpless. Your heart pounded in your chest, a drumbeat of despair echoing in your ears. The man leaned closer, and you could smell the sour stench of alcohol on him. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, he stepped even closer, his predatory grin making your skin crawl.

But then, out of nowhere, a brilliant blue light erupted in the alleyway.

The drunk man was thrown back with a force that sent him crashing into the wall, his body convulsing as tendrils of flame danced all over his clothes.

You gasped, your eyes widening in shock, your heart racing with terror and confusion.

And there he was — Dabi — stepping out of the shadows, his hand glowing with an eerie, azure fire. The sight was both mesmerizing and horrifying. You had seen his face plastered across the news, heard whispered stories about the villain who left nothing but ashes in his wake.

The drunk man’s eyes widened in shock, fear eclipsing his bravado as he scrambled back, trying to put the flames down. "S-stop!"

Dabi's lips curled into a smirk, and with that, he thrust his hand forward, sending a burst of fire that engulfed the man in a blinding flash instantly.

You dropped to your knees, trembling as the heat washed over you. Your breath hitched, and the world around you blurred as you tried to comprehend what you had just witnessed.

The man screamed — a horrific, animalistic, gut-wrenching sound that echoed in the night — before falling silent, consumed by the flames, reduced to a charred skeleton.

The fear that had gripped you was now compounded by the dread that Dabi might turn those flames on you next. You felt your heart race even faster, and you dropped your gaze, feeling utterly powerless, on the brink of fainting.

But then Dabi stepped forward, the fire fading from his hand as he turned to look down at you. His turquoise eyes searched yours as he grasped you by the elbow, firmly yanking you back to your feet.

“Ya okay?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

You blinked up at him, initially avoiding looking into his eyes, more than a little surprised. A villain just asked how were you holding up. “I… I don’t know,” you managed, your voice shaking. The adrenaline surged through your veins, and the sheer intensity of the moment left you breathless. “You just… you just burned that man alive...”

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. He had it coming."

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions — fear, awe, and something inexplicable that made your heart race. “You saved me,” you whispered, your mind still racing. “Why?” a question followed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, his gaze flicking away, an almost reluctant admission slipping through. “Maybe I just hate people like him,” he muttered, sounding defensive. “Maybe he pissed me off. Who knows, doll?”

That night had been terrifying, but it was also the beginning of something you never expected — an attraction to a man who was everything society warned you about.

"You’re late," he teased, though there was no malice in his tone. It was almost… gentle, for him.

You shot him a playful glare, smoothing down your white shirt that hugged your body in all the right places, and your skin-tight jeans that left little to the imagination. "You’re the one who told me to meet you on the rooftop of an abandoned building," you shot back, rolling your eyes. "It’s not exactly an easy place to find, you know."

He smirked, unable to hide the way his eyes roved over your figure, lingering perhaps a bit too long on your boobs. "Can’t blame me for wanting some privacy, doll," he drawled, the nickname slipping out effortlessly. It was a habit now, one that you’d come to expect from him.

A shiver ran down your spine at the way his voice deepened, roughened around the edges, and you swallowed, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. But there was no judgment in his eyes — only a heat that made your heart race.

"Why here?" you asked, motioning around to the empty rooftop. "It’s a bit… unconventional, don’t you think?"

Dabi shrugged, looking away from you, staring out at the city lights instead. "Thought you’d appreciate it," he said simply. "Away from prying eyes. Besides," he paused, his lips curling into that familiar, crooked grin, "I didn’t want anyone else getting in the way."

You stepped closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, despite knowing how dangerous he was. "I thought you’d be used to people looking, Dabi," you teased, trying to ease the tension. "You’re not exactly inconspicuous."

He chuckled, a sound that was more of a low rumble, and finally turned to face you fully. "Maybe I’m just getting soft," he mused. "Or maybe," his voice dropped, softer now, "I just don’t want to share this with anyone else."

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. There were so many things you wanted to ask, so many things you didn’t understand about him. But the way he looked at you now, like you were the only person in this entire city that mattered — it made your questions scatter like ashes in the wind.

"You know," you started, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone, "I was really surprised when you asked me out."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Why’s that?"

You took a breath, choosing your words carefully. "I mean… you’re Dabi," you said. "I didn’t think someone like you would be interested in someone like me. And we rarely spoke from the moment you saved me. If not counting you stalking me around.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "You’d be surprised, doll," he murmured. "Turns out, even villains can have a thing for ordinary girls, especially as sweet as you. And I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and you looked away, flustered. "You know," you said, trying to regain your composure, "when I first met you, I was terrified."

He laughed, a genuine sound that sent shivers down your spine. "I’d be worried if you weren’t," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "But you stuck around anyway."

"Yeah," you admitted, meeting his gaze again. "I did."

"Why?" The question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself. He needed to know. Needed to understand.

You hesitated, then took another step closer until you were standing right in front of him. "Because I saw something in you," you whispered. "Something more than just this villain persona."

He stared at you, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he almost couldn’t hear your words. And for the first time in a long time, Dabi was scared — not of being rejected, but of the hope that was blossoming in his chest.

"Is it… okay if I…" His voice trailed off, uncharacteristically uncertain. You knew what he was asking, and you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips.

"You’re really asking permission? " you teased gently, leaning in closer. "How polite of you."

"Don’t get used to it," he shot back, but his words lacked their usual bite. And then, without waiting another second, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was somehow both desperate and gentle, like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you felt him relax against you, his hands moving to rest on your hips. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill of the night air. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you — like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold you close enough.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Dabi pressed his forehead against yours, eyes still closed. "You’re not scared of me anymore," he murmured, and it wasn’t a question. It was a realization, one that made something inside him soften.

"No," you agreed, smiling softly. "I’m not."

"Good," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Because I’m not letting you go."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, and he felt something inside him stir — something that he hadn’t felt in years. "I wouldn’t want you to," you confessed, and his eyes snapped open, staring at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"Come," he said, pulling you towards the other edge of the rooftop. "I want to show you something."

You followed him, leaning against his side as he pointed towards the sky. "See that?" he murmured, his voice rough against your ear. "That’s Orion’s Belt."

You tilted your head, squinting up at the stars. "Mmm, look at you, are you keen on astronomy?" you asked, genuinely curious.

He shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "Had a lot of time on my hands," he admitted. “Thought I might learn a thing or two to woo girls.”

You laughed again, and Dabi couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It was infectious, the way your happiness seemed to bleed into him, warming the cold parts of him that he’d thought were beyond saving.

"I never thought I’d be here," he confessed, surprising even himself with his honesty. "Never thought I’d find someone who could make me feel this way."

You turned to face him, your expression soft. "And how do I make you feel?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, he didn’t try to hide. "Like I’m not alone," he uttered simply.

You reached up, brushing a strand of black hair away from his eyes. "You’re not," you promised, and when he kissed you again, it was softer this time — gentler, like he was savoring every moment.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city buzzing beneath you, the stars shining above, Dabi knew that he’d found something worth fighting for.

“You ever think about how things would be different if we hadn’t met that night?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. Your voice was soft, contemplative, and Dabi felt his chest tighten at the thought.

“Probably wouldn’t have gotten this far,” he admitted, his tone laced with an honesty he rarely allowed himself. “Would’ve kept burning everything until there was nothing left.”

You turned your head to look at him, a small, sad smile playing on your lips. “You’re not just made of rage, Dabi,” you said quietly. “There’s more to you than that.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You always gotta be so damn optimistic?” he muttered, though his lips twitched upwards, betraying the fondness he felt.

“Someone’s got to be,” you teased back, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

Dabi’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his usual sardonic mask slipping away to reveal the raw vulnerability underneath. “You’re not scared of me,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Not anymore."

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over one of the patches of rough, scarred skin. “No,” you whispered. “I’m not.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you fading into the background as you stood there, lost in each other’s gaze. And then, without warning, Dabi slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him as he rested his chin on top of your head. He held you there, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the steady rise and fall of your breathing, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Dabi felt safe.

"Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he whispered against your hair, his voice barely more than a breath. “To hold you like this?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. "I was scared at first," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "But now… I don’t want to be anywhere else."

He tightened his hold on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your skin. It was intoxicating, this feeling of being so close to you, of knowing that you weren’t going to disappear, weren’t going to leave him behind.

"I never thought I’d have this," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You turned in his arms, tilting your head up to look at him, and Dabi felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your smile — soft, genuine, and so full of love that it made his chest ache. “You deserve to be happy, Dabi,” you said, your voice steady and sure. “You deserve to be loved.”

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his mind racing with a thousand different emotions. And then, before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed you, slow and gentle, like he was savoring every second. You melted against him, your hands tangling in his hair, and he felt something inside him break apart, something that had been locked away for far too long.

When he finally pulled away, Dabi rested his forehead against yours, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. "You’re gonna be the death of me, doll," he muttered, but there was no bite to his words, only warmth.

You laughed softly, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Maybe," you agreed, "but I’ll make sure you’re happy first."

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the edges, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Promise?"

“Promise,” you whispered, and as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, gazing up at the stars, Dabi felt, for the first time in his life, that maybe, just maybe, he was going to experience real love.

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