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nadvs · 1 year ago

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watch and learn (part one)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

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At first, you cut your neighbor some slack. Over freshman welcome week, you figured it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect him to be quiet.

But it’s Thursday of week two, well past quiet hours, and the bass of his music is nearly making your bed shake.

You assumed the guy you’ve heard but haven’t seen yet would settle down once classes were underway. So much for that.

You have a lecture early tomorrow. It’s past midnight and his music and loud conversations are still drumming through your wall.

You’d call the resident advisor, but you’d rather talk to him yourself so not to risk any bad blood that could form from you snitching on him. You sigh, get out of bed, and decide to finally face him.

Rafe takes another hit of his joint, leaning back in his desk chair while three of his frat buddies talk about the past week of rushing.

He just got accepted into his top choice frat and he’s elated. And if he proves himself, he’ll be able to move into the Sigma Chi house next semester.

He probably will never get used to living in such a small room compared to the mansion he grew up in, but at least the frat house will be an upgrade.

“Dude, I think someone’s knocking,” Blake says, slapping Rafe’s knee.

“Oh, shit,” Rafe laughs, high out of his mind. He pauses the music and ambles out of the circle he’s been sitting in.

When he opens the door to see a girl in pajamas looking up at him, her arms crossed and her lips pinched, he’s taken aback for a second. Damn, you’re pretty.

“Hi,” you say, failing to force a smile at the man towering over you. The smell of weed hits you instantly. “I live next door. I wanted to ask if you could please keep it down?”

He grimaces as his unseen friends jeer behind him. You notice the Greek lettering on his t-shirt. A frat boy. Of course.

“You’re in trouble, Rafe!” one of them taunts.

He props a big arm against his doorframe, his blue eyes trailing down your body.

“Were we being loud?” he teases, purposely playing dumb. He’s obviously wasted. And is giving off strong fuckboy vibes.

“I have an early class tomorrow,” you try to explain. “Can you at least keep the music off?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“Listen… Rafe, right?” you say. He nods, his grin still so fucking smug. You tell him your name. “I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s fun, but-”

“That’s kind of what you’re doing,” Rafe interrupts. The way your face screws up when you’re pissed off is too cute for him to stop fucking with you.

“Don’t you have a frat house you can do this at?” you finally snap, gesturing to his t-shirt.

“You telling me I can’t be in my own room?” Rafe says, annoyance starting to prick at his skin.

“Not if you’re gonna keep people up,” you say.

“Turn around.”

“What?” you snap.

“I wanna know if I can see the stick up your ass from here,” he says.

His friends explode in laughter and he looks back with a wide smile.

“I fucking hate frat boys,” you mutter more to yourself than to him. Rafe brings a hand up to his chest in mock offence. “And you’re not allowed to smoke in your room,” you add.

“You gonna tell on me?” He cocks his head, his hair falling over his forehead.

“Yeah, actually, I might.”

A man appears behind Rafe with a charming smile.

“Okay, okay,” he drawls to you, gesturing to dap Rafe up. “We should get going anyway.”

“Nah, man, you don’t have to,” Rafe says, immediately disappointed that his fun is ending.

“It’s late,” he says. The man nods at you with a smile.

“Blake,” he introduces himself to you. “Sorry about the noise.”

“Thank you,” you say through gritted teeth, wishing Rafe had half the manners his friend does. He shuffles past you, followed by two other guys who say their goodbyes to Rafe.

“Happy?” Rafe mutters, all the playfulness from his tone now gone.

“Thrilled,” you say, turning to get back to your room.

The next afternoon, you’re on the phone with your friend, Liv, as you make your way back to your dorm room after a full day of classes.

She’s trying to convince you to come to a party at a frat house tonight. You’re exhausted after a long day, but she’s right that you need some fun.

“I can’t be out long,” you say on the phone, pushing your key into the lock. “I’m tired. And honestly, already kind of stressed out over school.”

“Maybe you’ll meet a guy who’ll take your mind off things,” Liv suggests. You snort.

“The last guy I hooked up was such a disappointment,” you tell her. You try to twist your key. It won’t budge. “I almost faked my orgasm, then was like, it’s not even worth it.”

Liv laughs.

“They should know when they suck,” she says.

You wiggle your key, your fingers starting to hurt.

“Exactly,” you say. “Plus, he wanted to try this position and… I don’t know, I felt too nervous to do it. It was just a failure all around.”

Finally, your key twists and make it into your room, clueless to the fact that Rafe heard everything.

That night, you’re at the Sigma Chi house, two drinks in, when you spot your neighbor playing beer pong across the room. Shit. You’re sure this is his frat.

You already told Liv about your encounter with Rafe, so you nudge her and point him out.

“That’s my fuckboy neighbor,” you say.

“You didn’t mention how hot he is.”

“Wait until he opens his mouth,” you tell her, earning a laugh.

Honestly, Rafe does look good. He fills out his t-shirt so well, his backwards hat pushing his hair out of his handsome face.

Rafe glances around the crowded room and catches you staring at him. Even though you irritated him the first time you spoke last night, heat fills his body once he realizes your eyes are on him.

You quickly look away.

Despite how much of a tight-ass he thinks you are, he’s glad to see you tonight. What he overheard you say on the phone a few hours ago has been weighing on his mind. And his ego.

He finishes up his game of beer pong and the alcohol rushing through his system convinces him to find you and ask you what he’s been mulling over.

“Are you lost?” a voice says behind you.

You turn to look up at Rafe, who’s ducking down so you can hear him over the music. You glance back at Liv, who raises her eyebrows and turns away to give you privacy.

“Or do you actually know how to have fun?” he asks. You sigh as you glance back at him.

“I do, without the expense of people’s sleep,” you reply, a sarcastic smile on your face. “Crazy concept, right?”

“I figured it out,” he says. “Why you’re such a tight-ass.”

“I am not a tight-ass,” you reply.

“It’s ‘cause you can’t get off. I heard you,” he says. He sees embarrassment wash over your face. You know exactly what he’s referring to. “And I’m the loud one?”

You look away, regretting that you didn’t stop to think your voice would float into his dorm room. Fuck.

“Does that actually happen?” Rafe asks. “Girls fake orgasms?”

Your eyes dart up to meet his and you scoff a chuckle.

“Yes,” you say. “What, you didn’t know that?”

Rafe shakes his head. Admittedly, he’s been wondering if any girls faked cumming with him since he overheard you. It’s kind of a blow to his ego.

“Ouch,” you laugh, regaining your confidence. “Let me guess. You thought you had a perfect track record.”

“How can you tell that a girl’s faking it?”

You take a sip of your beer and he can’t help but notice the enticing way your lips look glossed with moisture.

“Every girl’s different,” you say. “But for the most part, you can… feel it. You know… down there.”

You’re glad you’re drunk for this conversation. You doubt you could have it sober.

“How?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“I’m not helping you with this,” you say. “Especially after you were such a dick to me.”

Rafe smirks, looking down. You notice he has really cute dimples. Shit. The fuckboy is charming you.

“Let’s start over,” he suggests. “I have an idea.”

“You can have those?” you ask.

“I heard you say you were nervous trying a new position,” Rafe says, ignoring your chide. You look down in unease again.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he says. You look at him again, speechless over how forward he is. “We can help each other. You show me how to make a girl cum and how to know I actually did it. And I’ll let you practice whatever you want with me until you feel confident.”

You freeze for a second. Is he seriously suggesting you two fuck… to get better at fucking?

“Oh, you’ll let me?” you say, his proposal admittedly making your stomach numb with anticipation. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Rafe says with a shrug. You realize he’s being totally and unabashedly serious. “What? Do you need time to think about it?”

You take another sip of your drink, the cold beer spilling down your throat.

He is insane. But he’s also attractive. Charming. Confident. Would it be so crazy to start hooking up with him?

You’d have the guarantee of an orgasm, without wondering if the guy you’re with cares enough about getting you there, and you’d get practice so you don’t feel as insecure next time you’re with a guy you actually like.

“I’m in, only if you promise to actually respect quiet hours from now on,” you finally say.

“Great sex isn’t a good enough deal?”

“Who’s to say it’ll be great?”

“So, I have to tiptoe around my own room,” he says, his temper flaring.

“If you consider not blasting music at night tiptoeing, then yeah,” you retort.

If Rafe wasn’t sure of it before, he is now: you’re hot when you’re pissed off.

“Fine,” he relents. He’ll probably be moving out next semester anyway. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens a new conversation. “Text yourself so I have your number.“

You hand him your cup in exchange for his phone. You send an eggplant emoji to your number. He takes a sip of your drink and you scowl.

“Are you that selfish in bed, too?” you say.

“You can let me know,” he quips. You roll your eyes at him and take your drink, giving him his phone back. Rafe chuckles when he sees the emoji you sent yourself.

“I will,” you promise. “I’ll call you out on everything you do wrong. If you can take it.”

“Okay,” he says. “Tonight?”

Wow. He’s eager. It’s kind of thrilling that he wants you this badly.

“Maybe,” you say. “If I’m not too tired when I get home, I’ll text you.”

Rafe’s chest tightens with excitement. His hot, mouthy neighbor is actually doing this with him.

“Sure.” Rafe juts out his bottom lip, nodding, as if this conversation is completely normal. He’s so casual about it. This feels unreal.

You give him a small smile. Probably the first genuine one you’ve offered him. Okay. You can admit to yourself that you’re looking forward to hooking up with him.

You stay at the frat house for another hour, hanging out with Liv and a few other friends you made, before you make it to your dorm just before midnight.

After changing into pajamas, and the nicest set of bra and panties that you own, you text Rafe: i’m home if you want to come over.

About ten minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You open it to see Rafe standing with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his gray sweatpants.

You’re sure he knows how good he looks when you notice the outline of his length. He did this on purpose.

“Eager,” you say. “Were you already home?”

“I was quiet, huh?” he boasts, stepping into your room. He takes a second to soak in your space, eyes travelling over the way you’ve decorated.

“What the fuck? Your room’s bigger than mine,” he says.

“They’re all the same size.” You settle on your bed, glad he’s so comfortable about this, not making it awkward at all. Truthfully, the beer has worn off, and you’re kind of freaked out.

But this is what you’re doing this for. So you can stop being so nervous about sex.

“I’ll show you my room and you’ll see for yourself,” Rafe says. You watch him pace across your space to study the photos on your wall.

His eyes travel over the snapshots of you with your family and friends, your smile bright and pretty in every image.

With Rafe’s back turned to you, you take in the way his broad shoulders stretch out his white t-shirt. By the slight curve in his back, you can tell he’s not just lean, but muscular, too.

“How long are you expecting this… arrangement to go on for?” you ask.

“Until we’re both satisfied,” he says confidently, turning to meet your eyes.

“So, you’re aware you won’t be coming out of this with a girlfriend, right?” you assert.

While Rafe is attractive and charming, he’s also rude and narcissistic. You don’t want him to think you’re interested in him in that way. This isn’t a romance.

“Oh, yeah,” he huffs. “I’m not gonna be in college tied down to one chick.”

You scoff. Yup. Definitely no romance here.

“Maybe don’t call a girl a chick,” you say. “At least not to her face.”

“Right,” Rafe says with an easy laugh. He slowly steps towards you, his eyelids heavy as he looks down at you. “You have nice tits.”

You feel your skin burn, looking down at your chest in your tank-top. Rafe hardens the longer he looks at you.

“How sweet,” you say flatly.

Rafe smirks and sits down next to you, getting right to business as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft. He tastes like cinnamon toothpaste and smells like aftershave.

He’s a good kisser. But you expected as much. By his confidence and the fact that he prepositioned you the way he did, you can tell he’s experienced with girls.

You feel his hand slide up your body and squeeze your breast. You sit back, disjointing your lips.

“Slow down,” you tell him. “Do you always go right into groping a girl like this?”

“Yeah?” His brows furrow.

“Okay, some might like it,” you say. “But most want foreplay. You have to give me some time to get turned on.”

“Aren’t you already?” he asks. “We’re kissing.”

“We’ve been at it for like, a second, Rafe. Just because you’re…” You look down at the tent in his sweatpants. “Ready, it doesn’t mean I am.”

“So, what should I do?” he asks.

“Just… don’t rush,” you say.

Rafe nods and leans into kiss you again, his hand cupping your waist this time. He doesn’t usually like kissing that much, typically wanting to jump right into sex, but the way your tongue runs over his is actually sort of nice.

A few moments later, his fingers dip to pull your top off. When Rafe sees you in your bra, he swallows hard. Why does he feel like this is his first time seeing a half-naked woman?

Probably because he’s being graded, he realizes.

“Wow,” he breathes. You look down, scratching your neck. “Damn, you do get nervous.”

“What?” you say.

“When a guy says wow, take the compliment,” he states.

You shyly shake your head and pull him in for another kiss to brush past the moment. He catches on, pushing you back.

“I’m teaching you shit, too, remember?” he mutters. “Don’t be shy. You’re hot.”

“Alright,” you groan, tugging at his shirt. “Take this off.”

He smirks and obeys, hoping he at least partly got through to you.

When your eyes roam Rafe’s bare torso, your heart pounds harder.

You continue making out, and he eventually slowly unhooks your bra. He peels it off and slowly cups your breast, fondling and gently squeezing.

“Is this too hard?” he asks.

“No, it’s - it’s good,” you sigh. You remind yourself this is supposed to be instructional. “You should… um…”

“What?” he asks against your lips. “Stop being shy.”

“Play with my nipples,” you say, cheeks burning. “Some girls like that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He looks down at your chest and softly pinches you, then rubs his thumb back and forth. “Good.”

Rafe is entirely hard now, your praise making him ache to be inside you. But he’s here to learn. He needs to go slower.

He dips to put his mouth on your chest, his lips locking around your nipple. You let out a shaky moan and he knows he’s doing something right.

Big hands gently press against your hips to push you onto your back. You settle on your firm bed, hands roaming over his smooth back.

He shifts to give your other breast the same amount of attention, coating your nipple in his warm spit. You bite your lip, feeling your stomach tighten in arousal.

“Can I go down on you?” he rasps.

You meet his eyes. Rafe realizes just how pleased you look already. It’s really gratifying.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He eagerly pulls down your bottoms and panties in one move, losing his breath when his eyes take you in.

“Goddamn.” His voice is strained. You’re already glistening and he wants to put his mouth on you immediately.

“Go slow there, too,” you say. “Kiss my thighs first.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding urgently. It’s satisfying seeing him listen to you like this, considering he doesn’t seem to care for rules.

Your thighs are so damn soft against his mouth. He peppers kisses up your skin. It’s taking all his willpower not to start eating you out right now.

Your breaths are shallow as he leaves languid, tender kisses on you. You feel his fingers stretch your lips apart and hear him sharply inhale.

“Now?” he asks impatiently.

“Yeah. Lick everywhere,” you say, “but pay the most attention to my clit. You know where it is, right?”

“I’m not that fucking helpless,” he mutters. You can’t help but laugh.

He lowers his mouth onto you and you tremble immediately. He laps at you for a few seconds, a groan escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You taste really fucking good.”

“Do you always talk like that?” you ask.

“Yeah, is it okay?” Rafe says, suddenly tense.

“It’s amazing,” you admit. “Keep doing it.”

“Yeah?” he says with a smile. He points his tongue over your clit, wriggling it over your flesh.

“That’s good,” you tell him. “Make your tongue flat, too. Switch between the two.”

You feel him nod against you, avidly taking every tip.

“And suck a little,” you tell him. Rafe didn’t think he’d like being bossed around, but the way you’re telling him what feels good and making him better at eating pussy is rewarding.

He starts to suck at your clit and the way you moan tells him everything he needs to know. He sucks harder and your breath gets shaky.

Rafe is desperate to see how the inside of you feels, even if it’s just with his fingers. He shifts to slowly dip a finger in your cunt and glances up to look at you.

“Can I finger you?” he says.

“Yes,” you nod. “It’s good to ask. Start with one.”

He slowly sinks into you, stopping at his knuckle. You’re so tight.

“Shit, baby,” Rafe whispers. “I know you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good.”

Your head is spinning. You’ve never had a man talk to you like this before. This is what you’ve been missing out on, hooking up with guys who didn’t care about your pleasure? It feels unfair.

He adds a finger, curling into you and feeling you clench around him as he continues to work your clit. You look down to enjoy the sight of his head between your legs, the tips of soft dirty blonde hair tickling your skin.

It’s intoxicating, being taken care of the way you want to be.

Rafe’s jaw starts to get sore, but your noises give him the drive to keep going. Eventually, your thighs press against your ears.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble. “Don’t stop.” Rafe’s stomach twists with excitement, fully alert and eager to take mental notes.

Your breath stops, your muscles tense, and your walls flutter around him as you meet your peak. Sparks of pleasure fire throughout your body and you tug at the roots of his hair.

He keeps sucking and licking and pumping his fingers until you shuffle beneath him, overstimulated.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Good, that’s good.”

Rafe sits up, his lips wet with your arousal. You look happy, yet somehow kind of guilty. He makes a mental note to figure out how to make you unashamed for having a sex drive.

The way you’re panting is making him so fucking turned on that it hurts.

“I need to fuck you,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, hoping he’d say that. “Do you have something?”

He nods, pulling a condom wrapper out of his pocket. He takes his pants and boxers off at the same time and he springs out.

You never thought you’d think a cock could be perfect, but there’s no other way to describe it.

He leans over you, looking down as he lines himself up and slowly sinks into you. You watch him shut his eyes with pleasure, but when he opens them again, you look down at his body.

“So shy,” Rafe teases, his voice thick. “Make eye contact.”

You listen to him, meeting his eyes. It adds an entirely new level of pleasure and vulnerability, looking at each other while he starts to rock in and out of you.

He starts to thrust faster, revelling in the way your tits are bouncing with his force. His strokes are deep and powerful and you whimper over how nice it feels.

His balls feel tight already. He never cums this fast. There’s something about you that’s making his body react like this. But knowing you already orgasmed, he doesn’t let himself overthink it.

“Feels good?” Rafe asks with amusement in his tone. You moan in response. At least he doesn’t need to improve on this part.

He goes harder, losing his rhythm as he reaches his climax, trembling over you. The way he breathes through it is so unbelievably hot to you.

Once Rafe slows down, he collapses on top of you, his chest pressed against yours.

“How was that?” he mumbles.

“I don’t think your ego needs to get any bigger,” you say breathlessly. “But that was good.”

“Just good?”

You laugh. Okay, it was fucking mind-blowing. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Yup,” you say, patting his shoulder. “Let me up.”

“What - what could I have done better?” he asks, sitting up off of you, pulling out. “I listened to everything you said. I swear, I never cum that fast.”

You smirk. He’s desperate for the praise.

“Fine,” you say. “It was amazing, okay? Don’t let it get to your head, frat boy.”

It definitely gets to his head. You can tell by the way he’s smiling.

“What position did that guy want you to try? Wanna do it?” he asks. You shake your head in disbelief. He could probably go all night.

“Next time,” you say, exhausted, your muscles weak.

Rafe’s disappointed, but he doesn’t show it.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Next time.”

part two

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lovelybucky1 · 1 month ago

Note

A character of your choice from the Go Greek! Universe reacting to the sweetheart getting back with an ex (or thinking about it) and it ends with smut, showing-you-what-you’re-missing kind of thing 🤭 I’m loving this series so much! Xoxo

i love this so much!!! here’s headcanons about steve, bucky and joaquin in this situation. // go greek! masterlist // 18+ minors dni

Steve would be so against it. That guy was a piece of shit and everyone knows it. He isn’t good for you and you deserve so much better, so why would you even think about going back to him? He would lecture you, going on and on about how terrible he was until you finally snap.

“You keep saying I deserve better but I haven’t found it! How do you know there’s anyone better for me?”

Steve clenches his jaw and you see determination in his eyes. “I’m better.”

Your eyes widen and you find yourself at a loss for words. Before either of you could say anything else, Steve steps into your space and ducks down to kiss you. He holds you tightly, not even giving you an inch of room as he claims your mouth. You melt into the kiss and you’re lucky that he is supporting you, because you might collapse to the floor.

When the kiss breaks, he pulls away but remains close. His nose is almost brushing against yours and he looks into your eyes, seeing the desire in them.

“Let me show you how much better I can be.”

Bucky, unsurprisingly, would proposition you right then and there.

“If you need someone to fuck, fuck me,” he says as casually as telling you the weather.

“What?”

“Your ex was an asshole. You said it yourself, the only thing good about him was his dick. If you need good dick, I’m right here, baby.”

He sits down next to you and pulls you into his lap with ease. Bucky always takes what he wants. You look down at him, at his light blue eyes, plush lips, and the stubble on his face.

“I’m way hotter than he is, too,” he says. Just as humble too.

“I don’t know, Bucky. What if it makes things weird between us?”

Bucky laughs as shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I’ve been dyin’ to fuck you since the day we met. Do us both a favor and let me. I promise I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll forget that asshole’s name.” His hands slide from your waist down to your ass, greedily squeezing it. “We’ll do it however you want. Fast, slow, nice, mean, missionary, doggy-”

“That’s enough,” you stop him, giggling as you slap his chest.

“Are you gonna make me beg? Pretty please let me fuck you, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk.

“Fine,” you huff. Your reluctance is for show. You can’t let him think you were jumping at the chance to fuck him.

Joaquin would be so sweet and try to convince you that you don’t need him.

“We can watch movies together. I’ll make you breakfast in bed and take you shopping. I’ll take you out to dinner and I’ll pay the whole bill. He always asked you to split it!”

“But you’re not my boyfriend, Joaquin,” you say, hands on your hips as you look at him.

“I don’t need to be your boyfriend to do all those things. I still care about you and I know you deserve better than that guy.”

You sigh. “There are things I want that you can’t give me because you’re not my boyfriend.”

Joaquin mimics your stance, cocking his head as he stares back at you. “Like what?”

“Like sex!” you exclaim. You get that Joaquin wants what’s best for you, but you have needs. At least this time you know what you’re signing up for with your ex.

That seems to catch Joaquin off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you, who’s always so sweet and perfect, to like sex.

“I can do that too!” he comes back with.

You furrow your brows. “No you can’t, Joaquin. We’re friends.”

“Ever heard of friends with benefits? I promise it won’t be weird. I can give you everything you want and you never have to see that loser again.”

You consider it. Joaquin is hot and he treats you way better than you ex ever did. You suppose just once wouldn’t hurt, and if it didn’t workout, Joaquin seems like the type to let it go and not allow it to ruin the relationship you have.

“Fine, but this stays between us, okay?”

“You want me to be your dirty little secret?” he asks, teasing.

“Shut up,” you huff.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You step close to him and grab his face. You lean in for a kiss and he eagerly reciprocates. Once he gets the idea, you allow him to take control of the pace. His hands gently trail over your body, clearly hesitant to touch you.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’ll gonna do it right,” you say after you break the kiss. You place his hands on your ass and he takes the hint, squeezing firmly.

“I’ve never seen this side of you,” he chuckles.

“We’ve never done this before.”

#go greek #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fluff

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honeypiehotchner · 4 months ago

Text

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part one

I'm backkk 👀 Reminder that y'all do NOT like each other (for now 🤭)

I did a lot of math to make sure I had my timeline in order but I won't bore y'all with all the numbers. Some basics, tho: we're somewhere in s5/6, Foyet doesn't exist here but Haley and Hotch are divorced and Jack lives with Haley, Reader is in her mid 30s and Hotch is in his mid 40s. That's all for now, happy reading! xxx

Chapter warnings: these two are at each other's throats! and a new case begins ofc

Your day started out perfectly.

You sorted more of your belongings into boxes for the movers. Everything will be shipped ahead so it arrives shortly after you do at your apartment in Virginia. You’re running ahead of schedule, so you even have time to stop for a good breakfast before heading into the office.

The day felt…too good to be true. And you quickly find out why.

“The BAU?”

Your superior, Agent Reynolds, sits across from you and raises an eyebrow, assuming incorrectly that you haven’t heard of the branch. “The Behavioral Analy—”

“Yes, I know what the BAU is,” you cut him off, something he’s used to, waving your hand sharply. “Why the BAU?”

“You were requested,” he replies simply with a slight shrug.

“By who?”

“Agent Hotchner, as I’m told.”

That is the last name you ever expected him to say.

“Hotch?” you echo incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

Reynolds sighs. “I’m really not.” You know deep down Reynolds will miss you, but he’ll also thank god every day that he doesn’t have to put up with your attitude anymore.

“Huh.” You could laugh. You almost do. “Interesting.”

Your now ex-boss gives you a look, and a sigh. “What now?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “Agent Hotchner and I have met before, that’s all.”

+++

Ten and a half years prior to the present day, you worked on a case with Aaron Hotchner.

Key word: case. One singular case.

You were joined by agents Gideon, Morgan, and, of course, Hotchner. You were the only woman with them at the time, and that already threatened to drive you up a wall. To make matters worse, you and Hotch could not get along to save anyone’s lives.

The two of you butted heads for two weeks straight, but even that is sugar coating it. He raised his voice at you and you raised your voice right back. Of course, only in private. In the field, you were as professional as can be. But in the tiny conference room that you had to set up for them coming in unannounced? All bets were off.

You’ve never been a particularly angry person, but something about Hotch brought all your anger to the surface.

He was the most arrogant man you had ever come across. He explained things to you that you already knew, and even when you told him you were aware of the topic, he’d continue explaining like he hadn’t heard you, just out of spite.

He underestimated you in ways that had your blood boiling. He wouldn’t send you to interview anyone, despite that being your area of expertise. He had you doing busy work, like a goddamn intern.

You were your office’s own little BAU. You had read Gideon’s papers, been to profiling lectures. You became a profiler because you knew your city needed one, and by your fifth year in the office, you were one. You knew what you were doing, and Hotch treated you like a newbie.

He always walked around in a damn suit and tie. Does he not own a t-shirt? Does he know what that is? Would it kill him to breathe once in a while?

Why does he have to look like he constantly has a stick up his ass?

Of course, you aren’t totally innocent. You found his buttons and pushed them since day one. He hated being talked over or shouted at, so those became your favorite things. Especially after he began doing them to you.

Don’t disobey direct orders, he said. You did. And you got the results needed, so he had no choice but to move on.

Don’t come into the interrogation room unless asked for, he said. You did anyway. The unsub needed to feel important, a high priority, and he wasn’t. So, you walked in and told Hotch that the Attorney General of the United States was on the phone. It worked. While Hotch “spoke with the Attorney General,” you got a confession. Hotch had to thank you through gritted teeth.

When the case was solved and the BAU left town, you popped a bottle of fucking champagne. Good riddance you screamed and drank straight from the foaming top.

+++

You mutter under your breath the entire drive to the BAU. Your boxes arrived this morning, but you haven’t had a chance to unpack them, so your apartment is currently a shitshow.

And now you’re driving to deal with another shitshow.

You haven’t received any emails or texts from Hotch, which is odd, but you’re sure as hell not questioning it. The less you have to deal with him, the better. He probably shares the same sentiment, which is why he hasn’t contacted you.

From far away, Quantico looks more like a prison than it does a headquarters. You hope it doesn’t feel the same way it looks.

The BAU office is just a short elevator ride up from the parking garage, and you dread every second of it. When the doors open on the BAU floor, you want to scream.

But you’re a professional, not a toddler, so you walk your ass through the glass doors and into the bullpen, your head held high like an adult.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Hi Morgan,” you mirror his grin, accepting his hug. “Miss me?”

He’s in the same black t-shirt and black jeans he always wears, his haircut just the same but shorter. And he finally got rid of the “shaving my face every morning” routine. Stubble looks much better on him.

“For ten years,” Morgan reminds you. “What brings you here?”

You shrug cheekily, feigning innocence. “I heard there was an opening.”

His grin, somehow, grows wider and brighter. “Come here!” He tackles you in another hug, this time lifting you up and spinning you. “God is on my side to-day. Where’s Reid?”

“Putting a disastrous amount of sugar in his coffee,” a blonde woman says as she passes, then stops. “Oh, hi. I’m JJ, you must be Agent L/N. I heard you were coming in today.”

You escape from Morgan’s grip to shake JJ’s hand. “That’s me. JJ, you said?”

She nods, shifting her feet to a more comfortable position in her heels. “I’m the BAU liaison, so you’ll see a lot of me. And very little of me. It’s complicated.”

“I hear that,” you chuckle, just glad to see another woman has joined the team.

And to your surprise, another joins the circle, this one with black hair parted down the middle. “Emily Prentiss,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Are we finally getting another woman around here?”

You nod, glad to hear she agrees with your unspoken comment. “Looks like it.”

“Did someone call my name?”

You turn and see the infamous Dr. Reid stirring a mug of sugar with a splash of coffee. He’s wearing a cardigan, per usual, and what looks like the same pair converse from when you first met him five years ago at a lecture the BAU put on. He was brand new back then. His eyebrows furrow when he sees you, and then they go wide.

“Y/N? Hi!” he says excitedly, nearly spilling his drink. “It’s been so long! Wha— What are you doing here?”

You give JJ and Emily a look that only you three truly understand. “Why do none of the men assume I’ll be joining the team?”

Emily laughs. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid blurts. “Are you really joining us?”

“Sure am,” you grin. “And once I get out of this meeting with Hotch, you’re telling me when the hell you joined a boyband.”

“Oh, ouch,” Morgan taps Reid’s arm lightly with a grin.

“Uh, you too, Derek,” you punch him, letting him know he isn’t off the hook either. “What’s up with the shirt? Do you not own another color?”

“Damn, momma,” Morgan groans. “You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” you pat his cheek.

“I like you already,” Emily grins.

“Agent L/N,” an unmistakable voice comes from the top of the stairs, effectively ruining the moment.

He definitely hasn’t changed, you think to yourself as you slowly turn around.

“Agent Hotchner,” you mimic his tone. “Nice to see you again.”

He grips the railing a little too tightly. And he’s still wearing a damn suit, with a damn tie knotted so tight you wonder if it’s choking him. If it’s not, you want it to be. Maybe he’ll shut up then.

“I believe our meeting was scheduled for 9am,” he says, earning a sideways glance from the other man standing on the balcony.

“It still is,” you reply, looking beside his head at the clock on the wall and shit. “I’m late. That’s my fault, sir. I apologize.”

“Yes, it is,” he says. “We need to make this short. Hurry up.”

He turns and disappears into his office like some imitation of Dracula. You give Derek a helpless look.

“Welcome back,” Reid says, grimacing.

“Thanks, bud,” you reply, knowing he means well. “If any of you hear any screaming, pay no mind, that’s just how we greet each oth—”

“Agent L/N!” Hotch shouts from his doorway.

“Coming!” you shout back, just as loud and just as annoyed. “For fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself.

You hop up the stairs two at a time, reaching Hotch’s office in seconds.

The man that was beside Hotch offers you a smile. “I’m Agent Rossi,” he extends his hand.

“Agent L/N,” you return the friendly expression, shaking his hand, just glad that he at least seems happy to meet you. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

Rossi nods slowly, mouthing, “Good luck.”

You like him already. You smirk.

Hotch is standing behind his desk when you walk into his office, anger written all over his face. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers picking at his nails ever so slightly.

“Close the door.”

“Promise not to shoot me?” you joke, but it doesn’t land. You shut the door and take a seat in front of his desk while he remains standing. “Well?”

Finally, he speaks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh. “Oh, great.” You sit up because this is just stupid. “Are you kidding me? This is the last division I wanted to work in, but I was transferred here. At your behest, might I add—”

“I can assure you, Agent L/N, I did not request that you join my team,” he says as he sits down, rolling toward his desk and placing his arms over the files littered before him.

“Well then Agent Reynolds is a fucking liar, I guess,” you deadpan. “He’s the one who told me I was assigned to the BAU — because of you.”

“Well it wasn’t me.”

“Glad we got that settled,” you shoot back, wanting instead to add, like I fucking care if it was you or not. “Listen, whether either of us likes it or not, I was assigned here, so I’m here. If you want me to leave, take it up with Agent Reynolds or whoever the fuck really requested me. But I can’t do shit about this, and this is now my job, so I’m not leaving just because you want to have some pissing contest.”

He looks like he’s chewing on fire. “Your job security is not my problem—”

“For God’s sake, call your fucking boss, it won’t make you any less of a man to ask a goddamn question about why you have a new agent in your office.”

Hotch glares at you, but does as you say, picking up his desk phone and pressing a few buttons.

You sit back in your chair, waiting in silence. You turn your head to look through the blinds because Hotch didn’t close them all the way, and you nearly start to laugh. Huddled around one desk, Morgan, JJ, Emily, Reid, and another blonde woman dressed in bright colors and shapes are listening intently to Reid who is no doubt lip reading and translating this entire conversation.

Finally, the line connects and Hotch starts speaking. Almost as quick as the phone call begins, it ends.

“Well?” you ask.

“There was some miscommunication,” Hotch admits, though he does not look happy about it. “Welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

You smile sarcastically. “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “We’ll meet in the conference room in five minutes to discuss the rest of today. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir,” you mutter as you escape his office, just glad he didn’t torture you with a handshake.

Emerging from Hotch’s office, you stand against the railing and ask the team where the conference room is.

Morgan points to your left. “Why?”

“He told me we’re meeting there to discuss—”

“That’s on hold now,” JJ says, whirling around the BAU with an armful of files. “We’ve got a case. Missing girl, thirteen years old.” She passes out files in the bullpen, handing one to you as she ascends the stairs.

“Shit,” you mutter. “How long has she been missing?”

“Starting without me?” Hotch asks as he walks out of his office. He takes a file from JJ and says a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Yep, we are,” you say right back, scanning your file. You think you hear Rossi let out a chuckle at your response. “Gone since this morning. Are they certain it wasn’t overnight?”

“The mother dropped Lila off at school this morning at seven, and by nine, she was absent,” JJ explains as everyone fills into the conference room. “They paged her at school over the intercom, but she’s not in any of the classrooms.”

“How are we hearing about this so quickly?” Morgan asks. “I mean, I’m glad, but it’s been…just over an hour. We don’t normally have this much time.”

“Because,” JJ pauses, pointing the remote toward the TV. “This is Lila’s father.”

On the screen, the FBI’s Most Wanted are staring back at you. JJ clicks again, and one face comes forward.

“Who?” Emily says.

“Richard Monroe,” Reid says aloud. “He’s been on the run for almost two years. He’s said to have killed a dozen people, all females, but they suspect there might be more. Every time we’ve come close to catching him, he gets away.”

“And now his daughter is missing,” Rossi adds. “I’m guessing this guy is our unsub.”

“I don’t know,” you stare into Richard’s eyes on the screen. “When was he last seen?”

“You can investigate that when we get there,” Hotch says curtly. “They’re waiting for us and we’ll lose time by flying. Wheels up in ten.”

Everyone files out of the room and Hotch stays back, waiting for you to be the last one in the room.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch gets your attention. “Since you’ve never tackled a case like this before, try your best to follow orders, and watch what the team does. Don’t make any rash decisions and don’t go off on your own.”

None of his comments anger you as much as the first one. “You don’t know that I’ve never encountered something like this.”

“Don’t argue with me when we have a missing girl,” Hotch snaps. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply, pushing past him.

“I hope you have a go bag,” he calls after you. “There will be no time for shopping when we’re on the ground.”

“Then I’ll just wear your clothes!” you yell back, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him. You hear Morgan snicker down in the bullpen.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch says, and when you turn around, you see he’s giving you his famous stare.

You sigh. “My bag is in my car. It’ll take me two minutes to grab it. That’s clearly less than ten. Unless you have anything else to say that might delay me further?”

“Go,” he says, waving you away as he heads into his office to grab his bag. “Now.”

+++

While you’re on the jet, you do some research on Richard Monroe. He’s a grade A piece of shit if you’ve ever seen one.

But he’s not the type to go after his daughter.

“Garcia, can you check and see if Richard tried at all to contact Lila on her cell?” you ask.

“I would, sweets, but I can’t find Lila’s phone. Their house phone, however, has no calls.”

“He wouldn’t call the house phone, not with Lila’s mom watching over her like a hawk,” you murmur.

Hotch lifts his head. “How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That her mother would be overbearing.”

“Her father’s a serial killer on the run, Hotch,” you reply. “Any mother would keep tabs on her daughter’s every breath if she had a father like that. It’s logic.”

“She makes a fair point,” Rossi says.

“It’s unfounded,” Hotch ignores him, still dead set on irritating you. “Until you talk to her mother, don’t jump to any conclusions about her behavior.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Until I do?”

“Yes, you will be talking to her mother when we get on the ground. Morgan will go with you.” He nods to Derek. “Reid, you and JJ get set up at the precinct. Prentiss, Rossi, and I will go to the middle school. We’ll meet back at the precinct to discuss our next steps.”

You share a look with Morgan before sinking back in your chair, glaring at the file instead of Hotch.

It's going to be a long fucking day.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x you #enemies to lovers #criminal minds fanfiction #angst angst angst #The Gambit

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elryuse · 4 months ago

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Pt. 2 Troubles

BABEL'S CHAINS MASTELIST : HERE

Y'n's POV

The Next Morning

The next day started much like the last—my alarm blaring, my groggy attempt to silence it, and my mom sending me off with a reassuring smile. But this time, as I pedaled toward Babel University, an odd sense of anticipation weighed on me.

Was I dreading the day or looking forward to it? I wasn’t sure.

As I approached the gates of Babel, the familiar wave of whispers and stares hit me. I ignored them, parking my bike in the same corner as yesterday. My steps quickened as I made my way to the classroom, hoping to slip in unnoticed like before.

But when I stepped through the door, my heart nearly stopped.

Karina Yu was already there, lounging in her seat. Her perfectly polished nails tapped idly against her desk as she scrolled through her phone. When her sharp eyes flicked up and spotted me, a slow smirk spread across her lips.

And then, she waved.

It wasn’t subtle, either. Her arm stretched high, drawing the attention of half the classroom. A few of her friends snickered, and some students turned to look at me.

I froze, the heat rising to my cheeks. Why was she doing this?

“Y/n!” she called, her voice carrying easily over the chatter. “Come sit here.”

She patted the empty seat beside her.

My first instinct was to bolt, but her gaze pinned me in place. With no other choice, I shuffled toward her, painfully aware of every pair of eyes following me.

When I reached her desk, she grinned and moved her bag off the chair. “See? I saved you a seat.”

“Uh… thanks,” I mumbled, sliding into the seat.

The energy in the room shifted. Conversations buzzed around us, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than Karina’s presence beside me. She radiated confidence, her every movement casual yet commanding.

“Relax,” she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “You’re acting like I dragged you here.”

“I just… didn’t expect this,” I admitted, keeping my voice low.

She chuckled, resting her chin on her hand. “Why not? You’re interesting, remember?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” I muttered, earning another laugh from her.

The Lecture Begins

The professor entered shortly after, and the room fell silent. As he launched into another dense economics lecture, I tried to focus on taking notes, but it was almost impossible with Karina next to me.

She didn’t seem to care about the lecture at all, doodling absentmindedly in her notebook. Occasionally, her elbow would brush against mine, sending my brain into overdrive.

“Hey,” she whispered, leaning closer. “What’s the answer to this one?”

I glanced at her notebook, where a half-written equation stared back at me. “It’s… 7.32.”

She jotted it down, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re pretty handy to have around.”

“Glad I could help,” I said dryly.

The Lunch Break

When the lecture ended, I quickly packed up my things, hoping to escape the awkwardness. But as I stood to leave, Karina grabbed my arm.

“Lunch?” she asked casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I blinked, stunned. “With you?”

“No, with the janitor,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Of course with me. Come on.”

Before I could protest, she looped her arm through mine and practically dragged me out of the classroom. A few students stared as we passed, their expressions ranging from curious to jealous.

When we reached the cafeteria, Karina led me to the same table as yesterday, where Winter, Giselle, and Ningning were already waiting.

“Look who I found,” Karina announced, pushing me into a seat beside her.

“Y/n!” Ningning greeted cheerfully. “Welcome back to the cool kids’ table.”

I glanced around nervously. “I’m not sure if I belong here.”

“Don’t be silly,” Giselle said, resting her chin on her hand. “Karina doesn’t invite just anyone to sit with us.”

“Yeah,” Winter added, smirking. “You must’ve done something to impress her.”

I turned to Karina, who was calmly unpacking her lunch. “Why me?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

She paused, her chopsticks hovering mid-air. Then, she looked at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Because you’re different,” she said simply. “And I like different.”

The rest of lunch passed in a blur. The girls talked and laughed, including me in the conversation more than I expected. Karina, however, seemed content to let the others do most of the talking, occasionally glancing at me with that enigmatic smile of hers.

By the time lunch ended, I felt like I’d stepped into a different world—and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find my way back.

The Rival Encounter

The following day started much the same as usual, but it was the moments after class that took a surprising turn. As I was leaving the lecture hall, Karina waved me over—again.

“Sit here,” she said, patting the seat beside her in the cafeteria.

I hesitated, clutching my tray of simple food. The eyes of Babel University’s elite bore into me, their whispers audible even across the room. Still, something about Karina’s unwavering gaze made it hard to say no.

Sliding into the seat beside her, I braced myself for another round of teasing or curious prodding from her and her friends. To my relief, Ningning quickly shifted the attention with a story about her weekend, and the table’s atmosphere lightened.

The Walk

Lunch ended, and to my surprise, Karina and the girls insisted on walking with me. Ningning had latched onto my arm, her energy infectious as she joked about everything under the sun. Winter trailed slightly behind, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. Giselle walked beside Karina, who carried herself with her usual composed elegance.

I couldn’t help but feel out of place, like a black-and-white photo amidst a sea of vibrant color.

But things took a sharp turn when I accidentally bumped into someone.

The collision was minor—a gentle brush of my shoulder against someone’s arm. Yet, the aftermath was anything but.

“Oh, great,” a voice snapped.

I turned, finding myself face-to-face with a girl whose beauty was just as striking as Karina’s. Her long, sleek hair framed her delicate face, but her expression was anything but delicate. Her name tag read "Jang Wonyoung."

Behind her stood a group of equally stunning girls, their presence commanding the same aura of privilege as Karina’s group.

“Watch where you’re going,” Wonyoung said coldly, crossing her arms.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, taking a step back.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Yujin, another member of Wonyoung’s group, chimed in. Her sharp gaze bore into me, and her voice was as icy as her demeanor. “Do you even know who you just bumped into? Wonyoung doesn’t tolerate disrespect.”

“Yujin,” Gaeul, another girl in the group, said, her tone calmer but no less pointed. “He’s clearly out of his depth. Let’s not waste time.”

Karina stepped forward then, her expression unreadable.

“Out of his depth?” Karina repeated, her voice quiet but laced with steel. “I don’t recall Wonyoung being royalty. Or did I miss the coronation?”

Wonyoung’s eyes narrowed. “Karina, I didn’t realize you were running a charity. Is this your new project?”

Winter stepped up beside Karina, her arms crossed. “Wonyoung, if you’re going to pick a fight, maybe try someone who’s actually worth your time.”

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Students nearby had stopped to watch, their eyes darting between the two groups like spectators at a tennis match.

I opened my mouth to apologize again, but Karina’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” she said firmly, her eyes locked on Wonyoung’s. “Some people just thrive on drama.”

Wonyoung’s lips curved into a tight smile. “And some people mistake arrogance for confidence.”

Karina didn’t flinch. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

Before the situation could escalate further, Ningning stepped between them with her usual playful energy.

“Alright, ladies,” Ningning said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s save the drama for the stage, yeah? This isn’t worth anyone’s time.”

Wonyoung gave Karina one last withering glance before turning on her heel, her group trailing behind her like a flock of impeccably dressed swans.

As they walked away, Giselle muttered under her breath, “Always so theatrical.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thanks,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Karina turned to me, her expression softening. “Don’t let them intimidate you. They’re all bark and no bite.”

“Mostly,” Winter added with a smirk.

Ningning looped her arm through mine again, pulling me along. “Come on, Y/n. Let’s get out of here before Wonyoung decides to stage a comeback.”

As we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder. Wonyoung was watching us, her expression unreadable.

Whatever I’d gotten myself into, it was clear that life at Babel University was only going to get more complicated.

To Be Continued…

#kpop #kpop x reader #x male reader #kpop x y/n #beautiful #yandere #yandere stories #kpop smut #aespa #itzy #ive #babel #chains #yandere females #kpop females #obbsesion

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fratboygojo · 18 days ago

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fratboy!gojo who always wears a backwards navy blue snap back paired with a silver chain around his neck with every single one of his outfits no matter what. he calls it his 'signature look'. he loves to watch that damn chain dangle above you while he fucks you raw and deep in the backseat of his car.

fratboy!gojo who’s known for throwing the best parties. he invites you and all of your friends to every single one—making sure to keep you by his side the whole night. he knows all the other guys in his frat also want to fuck you, so he makes sure to let them know you’re only his. you spend the whole night by his side, with his possessive arm wrapped around your waist. he also always keeps the red solo cup in your hand full with a drink of your choice. he’s a generous host, especially for you—keeping your cup full with your favorite drink is the least he could do.

fratboy!gojo who follows you to every single one of your classes because he just can’t get enough of you.

"satoru, what are you doing here??" you question him, arms crossed over your chest, foot aggressively tapping the ground below you.

"anyone ever told you how cute you look when you’re all worked up?" he replies, lips wrapped around a blue raspberry flavored lollipop—which dyes his tongue blue. he loves those damn lollipops.

"stop it. answer my question." you reply angrily, obsessively checking your surroundings to make sure no one sees the two of you together. it's not that you're embarrassed, it's that you don't want to give people the wrong idea about you and him.

"relax princess, i’m in this class too" he smiles playfully, walking past you into the lecture hall. and of course in a class of this size, you had no way of actually knowing whether he was lying or not.

fratboy!gojo who shows up at your house in his car almost every night because he wants to take you to some party or just hang out with you. you can protest all you want, whine about how much homework you have to do—gojo doesn't give a fuck. he'll throw you into his car if he has to and make you hangout with him.

fratboy!gojo who shows you off and brags about you constantly to all his roommates to the point where they get sick of him.

"yeah yeah gojo we get it" geto mutters in between sips of his drink. this is another one of gojo's parties, and he's already drunk, blabbing about how smart n' sexy you are.

"n-no man, listen, she's forreal like soooo smart" gojo slurs his words, a heavy arm draped around your shoulder. you giggle, playfully pushing his arm off.

"cmon princess don't run away from me" he pouts, snaking an arm around your waist. there's quite literally no escape from his touch.

fratboy!gojo who can't even stay at his own damn party. not even an hour in he'll take you up to his bedroom—desperate to fuck you. he's so impatient, he wouldn't even bother taking your clothes off, before he slips your skirt up and fucks you deep, making you moan and scream on his cock. you're too drunk to care, and he's too possessive to stop you. he wants all his frat bothers to hear how good he fucks you.

"yeah baby, keep goin', just like that—good girl" gojo practically groans, his words dripping with sweet encouragement. you bounce up and down his thick and lengthy cock, hands gripping the soft fabric of his white t-shirt.

he fucks you at least another 3 rounds, fucking you so good that you're too exhausted to go home—leaving you to fall asleep in nothing but one of his huge t-shirts in his bed.

maybe this is what fratboy!gojo wanted all along...

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

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𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃a continuation from the rafe and puppy universe…(click me) ࣪

rafe doesn’t always treat puppy!reader so nicely. infact, sometimes she really tests his patience.

he drags you through the front door to tannyhill with a hand wrapped around your arm — thick gold rings wound round his fingers undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake as he yanks you inside. you can’t keep up with his long strides, tripping over and having the eldest cameron repeatedly carry the entirety of your weight with his hand everytime you stumbled— wrenching you back to your feet.

whilst this occurs, he lectures you through grit teeth — at the end of his tether. “what’d i tell you huh? what’d i fuckin’ tell you ‘bout manners?” he asks and you’re not sure if it’s rhetorical, letting him march you up the stairs to his bedroom.

“its no big deal—” you hiccup through pained whines as you try to pull away from his stern grip, only making him tighten it.

“nah, nah — you knew exactly what you were doing at the country club. running that mouth when i — i specifically told you to behave today.”

there had been a very high class event, ward forcing rafe to take you along to get you accustomed to the kook-lifestyle after so long of slumming it at the other side of the island. you were ditsy, but not dumb — you saw the way the camerons looked at you, with pity — like you simply weren’t made for this world. thats why you got so attached to rafe, he didn’t pity you. it was tough love, so you assumed — the boy constantly lecturing and berating you but would be the first to save you from any potentially damaging or dangerous situations, and god forbid anyone spoke to you as poorly as he did.

the afternoon was unsavable from the start. you may have been responsible for the large chocolate fountain at the food table falling, you’d accidentally insulted the president of the country club to his face, you’d mistakenly smeared food on the back of rafe’s shirt, and when rafe was rightfully lecturing you for that — you bit him. you bit him infront of one of the important businessmen he had been trying to impress. you understood his anger for once, you’d messed up.

he tosses you onto his bed making you stumble onto it, turning around to watch the way the boy angrily rifles through his dresser drawers, furiously continue to ramble at you. “you know i’ve been saving this, yeah — saving this from when you really messed up. ‘cos i knew you would. you’re a pogue, and you’ll always be one. and — and i’ve been here, tryna look after the runt of the litter — and yet you still disrespect me.” he shakes his head and you watch forlornly, watching him find what he was looking for and begin to pull it out.

“well you wanna run that mouth? wanna— wanna bite me in public? i’m gonna have t’treat you like the dirty pogue puppy you are— okay? didnt wanna have to do this kid but you leave me no choice. s’gotta be me to discipline you, alright? c’mere.” in his hand, you instantly recognise to be some form of muzzle. like the type you’d see on a dog, but this time perfectly crafted to fit a female face. you’d had no idea where he’d got such a cruel item, he had to have had it custom made just to shut you up, a sick fantasy he’d been sitting on. you cower, and he’s unphased.

he undoes the buckles on the side so that he can put it on you, but not before yanking your hands to his belt and leaving them there. “undo this. you’re gonna wear this, n’then you’re gonna let me take what i want from you. a’ight? i’m in charge. you’re gonna learn your damn lesson whether you like it or not.”

you whine as you obey him, trembling fingers fumbling for his belt. the worst part about this, was that you couldn’t deny your arousal. the manhandling, the degrading — you were a sensitive girl, who had sensitive needs, but something about the boy you had such a crush on, the same boy who would deny reluctantly cuddling you to sleep when you had a bad dream that one time, treating you so mean was making your cunt ache with need.

“i’m not gonna bite, i just want to kiss again.” you wail weakly as he brings the muzzle to your face, scoffing out a chuckle that read directly as ‘fat fucking chance’. rafe had kissed you a few times. moments of weakness. he couldn’t deny his feelings for you but — well, actually yes he could. he did deny his feelings for you, and often too. he was head over heels and he didn’t like that.

“kiss? you— you think you deserve a kiss after the way you behaved today?” once the muzzle is fastened and you’re staring up at him with big watery puppy dog eyes, he finishes up with yanking off his belt and undoing his zipper, trying to ignore how your pitiful expression looked. rafe was mean but he wasn’t an idiot— he knows you didn’t mean to be the way you were. you were innocent, naive — but god if taking advantage of that didn’t get him off.

his heart twinges at the sorry look on your face so he flips you over onto your front on the bed, body sprawled out and bouncing from the force. “nah…” he answers his own question as he tugs your dress up your back to reveal your soaked through panties between trembling thighs. he thumbs at the wet patch above where your hole sits meanly, scoffing. “you’re gonna shut up and take this dick. maybe then you’ll get your damn kiss.”

#tw dubcon #rafe cameron prompt #he’s very mean here i warn you #puppy!reader #for the rafe n pup universe

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slttygeto · 6 months ago

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༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 07: off the table

preview: ". . . Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. . ."

content warning: smut! dirty talk, hair pulling, fingering, handjobs, pronebone!! (she's a filthy one), mention of abandonment issues.

word count: 5k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa@bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: the google doc file for this fanfic has officially reached 100 pages woohoooo 🥳🩷 im actually very excited because this is where the story picks up and starts to get a little saucyyyy 😋🙌🏻btw, ex boyfriend reveal!! had to include the fan favorite, the fandom's boyfriend: mitsuya takashi himself🙂‍↕️and sorry to disappoint yall, chifuyu is just our friend, he doesn't wanna get in our pants. anywayyy can't wait for the next chapter hehe🥰

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

“Chifuyu,” you sound out of breath. Hair disheveled and such choice of clothing confirms to the man that you hadn’t intended for anyone to visit you this time of the night. You stare back at the man, hair now dyed jet black and sporting a very fancy suit, and it dawns on you how long you haven’t seen him.

An entire decade.

Chifuyu didn’t intend for the two of you to separate this way, but clearly he had no choice but to keep you away from Toman’s nasty business (something Hanma failed to do). When he first heard that you were going to move away for your studies, he was sad and the two of you cried as you hugged at the train station with your boyfriend by your side. He remembers the man you used to date and feels his heart sink.

“Can we talk?”

What’s up with men from your past showing up at your door? Not that you mind Chifuyu’s presence, a part of you was still mad that he had lied for all these years about his whereabouts. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to figure it out, the way he fiddles with his thumbs and avoids your eyes as you lead him inside says it all.

“So?”

“What are you doing?” Chifuyu jumps straight to the point, and you’re a bit taken aback by how alarmed he sounds. “With Hanma what are you– this isn’t right, you know that?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you come here to lecture me? It’s been 10 years, Chifuyu!” you cross your arms over your chest, heat rising to your face. “You lied about where you were and you lied about being with Toman–”

“For a good cause!” Chifuyu’s volume rises and you scoff. “You had to stay away from Toman’s business.”

“Why does everyone think it’s okay for them to decide how I get to live my life?” you question bitterly and Chifuyu’s lips are sealed shut. “I mean really–first Ran and Rindou, then Hanma comes back and he’s acting all mysterious and now you?”

“You can get hurt.”

“I don’t care.” You spit out venomously. “You have no idea how isolating it feels to watch everyone around you distance themselves from you thinking it will protect you. All it did was make me scared to try to make friends.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t just Chifuyu or your brothers or even Hanma that you were mad about. Not their absence, or their lies or their futile attempts to shelter you from a familiar life of crime and violence –you were bitter about where you had ended up, what you could’ve had with your previous lover that went so badly even you couldn’t recover from it.

When you moved away for your studies, your relationship with your brothers had already been strained, broken even. They had betrayed your trust in irreconcilable ways, so you turned to the one person you loved so much. You loved and cherished him, you were ready to offer up your heart to him as he whispered promises of a happy family in the near future, with a big house and a pretty garden where you'd water the plants and harvest some vegetables. Then he’d come home and he would show you the latest piece of clothing he had designed for you. You’d wear it happily and show it off to him as he gave you a look mixed with adoration and lust. He promised that he would fill your tummy to the brim, that he would fuck a baby into you as many times as you wanted. It was a shared dream of yours.

Perhaps it was too good to be true.

That man switched up on you overnight–because of a project that had been consuming him for a month straight, he wasn’t able to spend time with you anymore. Becoming a fashion designer was everything to Mitsuya Takashi. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to let anything hold him back even if it was a partner.

You had been in a long, six year relationship when Mitsuya started to put more distance between the two of you, prioritizing his projects over date nights and coming home very late at night after events and gatherings. And every time you tried to talk to him about it–about your relationship–you were met with nothing but a look of exhaustion and disdain. The warmth he once had for you was gone and was soon replaced by a cold, distant look. His touch no longer lingered against your skin during the early hours of the morning, sex had become a chore to the same man who would spend hours making love to you under the moonlight.

That’s when you realized that perhaps, it was time to part ways.

It wasn’t easy at all–you cried in his arms and he apologized for not being able to keep his promise of the perfect family the two of you were once eager to have. And before the two of you could part ways, you watched as the man reached for his neck to unclasp the jewelry wrapped around it. Stepping behind you, he wrapped the necklace around your neck and the two of you shared one last warm look, filled with the love you will always have for one another.

“Keep this. Maybe we’ll meet again one day.”

One day turned into six years of not seeing the lavender haired man. Six years of praying and hoping for something, anything. To no avail. You hadn’t even heard of him on the news, nor were you able to find any of his works anywhere and it broke your heart at the thought of him moving out of the country completely. To think that he needed to change his entourage in order to see some growth–you hope that you weren’t the type of girlfriend to try to grab his wings and pin him to the ground.

Chifuyu had been watching you this whole time. He had been watching your every move, ensuring your safety without having to approach you or so much as get out of his car. He knew of your breakup with Mitsuya, and all he could think of was the last conversation you had with him before moving away for your studies.

“I can’t wait to marry him,” there was a slight blush to your cheeks. Mitsuya had really been the boyfriend to you and Chifuyu could feel the love pouring out of you. “He’ll be such a good dad.”

To say that you were broken after the relationship had ended was an understatement. You didn’t go to work for a week.

But Chifuyu couldn’t approach you still–and all he could do was watch and pray that you take care of yourself and find a way to lift yourself back up.

So it’s safe to say that when Chifuyu heard that Hanma found you, he was enraged. Toman was used to Chifuyu’s calm and collected demeanor–a false facade he had learned to put up in order to get on Kisaki’s good side which helped him a lot. As he approached the man’s office, he could hear a second man’s voice and quickly recognized it to be Hanma’s.

“So what is this about?” Chifuyu doesn’t care that he is interrupting something as he knocks. He waits for Kisaki to tell him to come in and pushes the door open. Hanma’s back is facing him as he sits on the chair and Chifuyu stands near the door with his hands behind his back.

“Kokonoi said that the report concerning his IT business is taking too long due to a bug in the system.” The dark haired man speaks in a monotone voice, his body unmoving. He’s clearly not happy to be here, but he has to do it for his job.

Chifuyu can’t see what’s happening from his position, but he notices that Hanma places a picture on Kisaki’s desk before leaning back in his chair.

“You found her?”

Her. It could be so many people–this girl Kisaki had been stalking, or maybe one of the strippers that had escaped Hanma’s club due to the poor treatment by nasty and rude customers. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the bomb that was about to drop.

“She’s back in Shinjuku.”

“(Name). What was her last name again?” Kisaki brings your picture closer to his face, inspecting and analyzing every feature on your face, down to the way you got dressed.

“Used to be Haitani. Changed it after her brothers got involved in some weird, shady business.”

Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, yet his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. The dark haired man was terrified that Hanma was after you just for fun, that his attempts at protecting you would fail now that the tall, tattooed man was back in your life.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki puts the picture away and starts to rummage through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

No no no–Chifuyu can’t let that happen. He can’t and won’t let anyone hurt you. His fists clench on his sides, body tensing up. Then he notices. Hanma had gone eerily silent instead of doing his usual, insane laugh.

Kisaki seems to realize the same thing. Sensing the tall man’s silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes were devoid of any playfulness, and Tetta doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Chifuyu still wasn’t able to trust him. It had never been easy to do so, a man as dangerous as Hanma was as unpredictable as a wild card in the deck. Had his intentions been clear, Matsuno wouldn’t feel the need to watch your every move even closer since that day.

Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that.

Flustered and perhaps feeling as though he was being creepy, he looks away from your neck and watches as you cover yourself more with your robe. You noticed.

“It was to protect you.” Chifuyu’s voice is soft like butter. He doesn’t have it in him to argue with you, he doesn’t want to argue with you he just–

He misses you so much and it was driving him crazy that he held himself back for all these years, and all it took for Hanma was to see you once at a metro station and he was back in your life. It just wasn’t fair.

Losing Baji had taken a toll on Chifuyu’s mental and physical well being. You were worried about the boy and you voiced it out many times to Mitsuya when the two of you went out to get him a couple of snacks as well as some food for his cat.

It was that worry that made the two of you as close as ever even if your friendship was very short lived before you packed your things and moved away. Luckily enough, Takemichi was in the picture and you had nothing to worry about this time.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that everything Chifuyu has done was to protect you. Even if it meant hurting himself in the process.

“It’s dangerous, Toman.” He speaks lowly as he takes a seat on your couch. “It’s not like how it used to be.”

“I know.” you admit, voice as small as ever. Chifuyu doesn’t want to know how you found out, but he quickly realizes it has something to do with Hanma and sighs deeply.

“Did you ever think it would get this bad?” you ask, taking a seat next to the man who can only sigh and run a hand through his hair.

“I…would like to say no, but things have changed a lot. Mikey is different, people are different–money made them…disgusting.” You remember your first encounter with Hanma. The fancy clothes, expensive shoes and watches didn’t draw a smile on his face. He looked bored out of his mind, like he wanted something to happen in his life and the expression on his face when he realized that he had finally found you after so many years of not seeing you, felt like the first time that man had used his face muscles to smile.

So yeah, Toman was different.

The two of you sit in silence. It’s a comfortable one this time, like a silence between songs–you get to sit and process what you had just listened to and your brain is trying to make sense of everything all at once. But it doesn’t pain you, nor does it leave a heavy feeling behind. You sit there next to your friend from your teenage years and you don’t feel the need to pretend to be anything else. You can be yourself around Chifuyu, even after so many years.

“So,” Chifuyu is the first to break the silence, turning his head as he rests it on the couch. He stares at you with those eyes that mirror a winter sky. “Hanma Shuji, huh?”

Despite his disappointment and perhaps even anger, the man doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease you. You flush at the tone of his voice and look away, completely flustered.

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”

“Is he really that good?” he continues to tease you, narrowing his eyes at you when your jaw drops and you can’t hide that your face was in flames.

“Can we not! Yes, he’s good and we’re two adults having fun.”

“Yeah,” his eyes shift to the love bites on your skin and the state of your disheveled hair. “You’re having a lot of fun.

“Please shut up.” you sigh deeply as you sink on the couch. “He’s actually a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he’s a pain in your ass–”

“Seriously!” you cover your face. “...I don’t care. As long as I get some action, I guess.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he’s been less annoying lately,” Chifuyu admits. “Don’t get me wrong, he gets on everyone’s nerves–.” typical Hanma. “--but he’s been different lately.”

“Different?”

You can’t deny that this has piqued your curiosity. What Hanma was to you wasn’t the same to everyone else–you’ve known the man as a teenager and meeting him again as an adult, you realize you may have missed the most formative years of his life—the years that shaped him through struggles and hardships, leaving him the monotone, robotic, and emotionless man he is today.

Toman knew an entirely different version, so a small shift in his behavior is easily noticeable.

Chifuyu recalls an incident that happened three nights ago that really solidified to him that there might be something going on with the tall man. Hanma had walked inside the Toman headquarters all wet and disheveled. Not the kind that would leave you wondering if the criminal had sex. It had been pouring outside for hours on no end, and Chifuyu narrows his eyes when he sees Shuji’s wet clothes–however, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He calmly walks towards the front desk where he asks the receptionist (and his personal assistant when he is having a good day) where his bag of spare clothes was. The assistant, clearly taken aback, leads him towards a giant closet and hands him his bag.

“Thanks.” The tattooed man mutters to the assistant who stands there frozen and shocked.

Did Hanma just… thank him?

Even Chifuyu couldn’t believe his own eyes and ears.

“Yeah. A good type of different.” The dark haired male’s hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, a habit he couldn’t get rid of (not that you minded) then pushes himself off the couch.

“Well…I’m glad it didn’t go that bad.”

“It could’ve, had I not missed you so much.” You say in a small voice and Chifuyu’s heart breaks a little.

“Sorry…”

“Oh it’s fine, I’m used to people leaving.” You try to lighten up the mood, but Chifuyu can tell that this wasn’t a joke to you. The thought of people leaving you was terrifying, but you always managed to find a way to brush it off as nothing but an overreaction.

“I won’t lea–”

“Don’t.” A hand rests on Chifuyu’s shoulder, and all he can do is stare at you. He feels the small tremble in your hand, and he can read your mind. He knows what you mean.

You don’t want empty promises.

“Okay.” He whispers in return, resting his hand on top of yours. “I got it.”

—

Just how busy can a criminal’s life be in a city like Tokyo? Well, it depends. If you were to ask Chifuyu, he would tell you that it was very busy–hopping from one meeting to another, helping manage businesses and attending opening nights and events. Kisaki would say the same, although with the help of his assistant, it feels less hectic and suffocating. And the same goes for every man in Toman.

Everyone but a certain tall man.

Hanma’s specialty was torture. His skill relies on methodically, agonizingly breaking a person’s mind and body until they were reduced to an empty shell. He took pride in the way he unraveled them, a twisted thrill evident in his blown-out pupils—enjoying the process far more than any normal person ever would. So missions were a fun part of Shuji’s job.

Until they aren’t, and he has to request for Kisaki to push them back a day or two.

“What?” Kisaki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you can’t do it today?”

“Exactly what it means.” Hanma says in a breathy voice, and Kisaki sighs at the end of the line.

“Do I even have to ask why?”

When the tall man laughs, Kisaki’s face twists with disgust. He recognizes that laugh, it was an indicator that Hanma had simply found something far more entertaining than his missions–which was rare to say the least. But he continues to laugh, before heaving out a long, content sigh.

“Oh man,” a tattooed hand brushes the skin of your exposed back, a small meek noise escapes your swollen lips at the touch. “Not sure if I can answer that.” The same tattooed hand then fists your hair and he pulls harshly until your neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle. You try to shoot him a glare, but he pushes his cock deeper and you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your noises.

“Bye.” You hear Kisaki hanging up on the other line and look over your shoulder.

“You’re insufferable!” Shuji is amused by the glare you send him, tugging at your hair so that your back is now pressed against his chest.

“I get that often.” You hear the grin in his voice, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers hotly into it. After a beat of silence, Hanma’s hips slam against your ass and your jaw falls open.

“F-Fuck!” you cry out. Shuji’s free hand then goes around your body to grope your boobs, slapping them as he continues to fuck into you hard. Desperately, you dig your nails into his forearm for support and gasp when the hand travels down to your clit.

Your head now rests fully against his shoulder, body twitching and trembling as he continues to thrust into you while rubbing the sensitive bud.

Hanma loved seeing you like this. Not your usual, bratty self who refused to even glance his way–turning you into putty on his cock was something he took pride in, and he couldn’t deny that the more the two of you fucked, the more addicted he became.

A week into your agreement with him, and you had been bent over every surface of your apartment.

First was your couch. Hanma insisted that he wanted to replace the memory of him getting cockblocked by your cat with a nice one. You forgot that the man’s sheer strength was enough to send you reeling, and he wasn’t able to control himself as he snapped his hips against your ass cheeks until the couch had moved spots.

“S-Slow down–!” you tried to beg, powerless as he held your wrists behind your back and pushed your face into the cushion of the couch. Your pussy was squeezing him too tightly for him to think of anything but letting you milk him dry.

“Can’t do t-that doll.” hearing the small stutter in his voice has your stomach fluttering. His fingers dig into your skull as he pushes your face deeper into the couch, muffling any of your noises as he thrusts harder and deeper into you.

Your kitchen counter was next.

The small, crowded space of your kitchen was Hanma’s least favorite spot in your apartment. You shoot him yet another one of your signature glares as he voices his displeasure, and watch as amusement paints his features.

“Small ass kitchen you got here.”

“Not your first time being here.” You try to focus on the food you’re stirring in the pot, and not Hanma’s body towering over yours from behind.

“Anybody fucked ya here before?” His hands grip your waist, pinning you in place and the hand that’s not busy stirring the food grips his forearm.

“Yes Hanma. I am not a virgin.” But given the redness of your face, you might as well be one.

“Oh really? Who was it?”

“You don’t have to know!”

“I gotta know if he was good. Did he make you cum?” You gasp when his hand slides inside your pants, fingers grazing the tuft of pubic hair covered by your panties.

“I-I’m cooking–”

“Did he use his fingers like this?” You feel pathetic as your hand drops the wooden spoon to grip the kitchen counter, body bending forward when the rough pads of his fingers find your clit and start to rub it in circles. He moves further down, collecting some of your arousal before smearing it all over your sensitive bud.

“Stop talking.” You say through gritted teeth, but your hard exterior soon melts away when he pushes his middle and ring finger into your pussy. He doesn’t start slow, nor does he give you time to get used to the sheer size of him as he starts pistoning his fingers into you. Groaning at the feeling of your snug walls gripping his fingers, he buries his face in your neck and pushes you closer to him. You’re reeling at the pleasure, unable to muffle your noises and you would’ve melted to the ground had his arm not been wrapped so tightly around your middle.

As payback, you give him a handjob on your couch.

It’s not that often where you don’t stare at your sexual partners while pleasuring them, but eye contact with Hanma was intense. It felt too…nerve racking for the two of you. So you sit next to him, blanket draped over your laps as your spit covered hand grips his cock. You move it up and down, stroking in the same motion that has the man’s head thrown over the back of the couch and his jaw going slack. From the corner of your eye, you see his reddened cheeks and his furrowed eyebrows and squeeze your own thighs. You ignore the flutter in your stomach, thumbing at his tip and removing the blanket when he starts to buck up his hips, fucking into your hand.

And since you don’t want to make a mess, you wrap your lips around his dick and let him cum down your throat.

“Holy shit,” he says, out of breath. You still refuse to stare at him as you wipe your mouth and grab the remote control to press play again.

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you are.

So you don’t expect special treatment as he batters your cunt with his mean cock, nor do you wait for him to caress your body and whisper sweet nothings into your ear after slapping your boobs so painfully. You like that. You like how mean he is and it’s fucking with your head.

The louder you get, the easier it is for Hanma to fuck into you–arousal is dripping down your thighs, and the sound of skin slapping bounced off the walls of your bedroom. You can’t hide how horny you were, or just how good he was making you feel. All you can do in response to his hypnotizing thrusts is grip his skin and leave your own marks. A way to show that he was yours for the night, even if he were to leave after this and go fuck someone else.

“I-I’m cumming,” you gasp, sounding desperate and clearly not in control of your own volume and voice. Your brain feels fuzzy from all the pleasure, Hanma lets go of your hair and pushes you down until you are on all fours. You’re bent over so perfectly for him that a quiet curse escapes his lips. “S-Shuji, I’m cumming–” not Hanma, not asshole. Shuji.

You’re not sure what kind of noises you’re making, but it sounds so pathetic and whiny that it sends the tall man behind you over the edge. However, you make the mistake of looking over your shoulder and the sight that greets you makes your stomach flip.

A sweaty, red faced Hanma is fucking you so eagerly, hypnotized by the recoil of your ass that he forgets to close his mouth. Fucked out is the best way to describe him. A man who is usually either so amused by others’ discomfort and pain, wearing such a pornographic expression makes you grip the bed sheets and moan loudly as you cum all over his cock.

He lets you ride out your orgasm, gripping your ass cheek and kneading the skin before delivering a harsh smack to it as he picks up his pace until he is emptying himself inside your warm walls. Leaning over, he presses his lips against the skin of your shoulders before asking.

“You...You aren’t fucking anyone else, right?”

“You’re asking that now?” After fucking me and cumming inside me so much?

Obviously you’re not fucking anyone else!

“Just answer.” He demands with a slap to your clit that has you squealing, trapped under the weight of his body.

“N-No!”

“Good.” His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, and he places both hands on either side of your bodies as he presses his body weight against yours. “Good fucking girl.”

Not sure what he would’ve done had you said yes.

“What?” You’re in a haze, but you still manage to catch bits of what he says and Hanma chuckles to himself.

“Don’t worry.”

“No, you said someth–ah!” your jaw goes slack when he starts to fuck you into the mattress. This position allows him to trap you beneath him with so much ease, until you have no choice but to take his cock and blabber nonsense into the pillow.

“Focus baby girl,” his teeth nip at your earlobe as he sinks his cock again into your cunt “I’m not done with ya.”

Guilt is a weak emotion. Fear, anger and even jealousy are much stronger and can affect someone greatly. If consumed by any of the aforementioned, you’ll find out that sleep doesn’t come to you easily.

Insomnia has followed Hanma Shuji his entire life. There hasn’t been a day where he slept through the night without being woken up in cold sweat and a loud gasp, or without feeling the need to reach for the nearest weapon to him. But as he lays next to you at 3 O’clock in the morning, he starts to question what triggers his insomnia. He’s never felt guilty after a mission, anger only consumed him if someone betrayed him–that leaves out jealousy.

His golden eyes land on your worn out, sleeping figure. He chuckles as he notices your furrowed eyebrows, and his hand starts to move towards your face before freezing. What is he doing? He pulls his hand away, eyes drifting towards your exposed chest before pulling up the covers. He sees the pendant of the necklace resting comfortably around your neck and suddenly feels the need to fix it. Before his hand can reach for the jewelry, your fingers grip it protectively and you pull the covers tightly around your body.

Hah. What’s that about?

“No,” his ears perk up when he hears your sleepy voice mumble into your pillow. “..not..go.”

Not go?

You were obviously talking in your sleep. It wasn’t supposed to make sense.

“Don’t..go.” Sleepiness is replaced with distress. “..kashi.”

Hanma scoffs. Honestly, that’s all he can do in such a situation. After fucking you into a deep slumber, you still manage to mumble another man’s name in your sleep. Which was completely fucking fine of course, you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you agreed on.

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

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nanamineedstherapy · 5 months ago

Text

Mouth to Meat

Cannibal Yakuza Sukuna X [Retracted] F!Reader

Summary: Dr. Y/N L/N is tasked with profiling Ryomen Sukuna, a feared yakuza boss known for his violent tendencies and taste for human flesh. Through a series of therapy sessions, she gains his trust—or so it seems. But Sukuna isn’t the only predator in the room. Behind Y/N’s professional demeanor hides a secret far darker than even Sukuna’s sins. When the masks drop, it’s clear: monsters don’t always look like him.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, Implied cannibalism, Moral ambiguity (everyone’s awful), Mentions of child endangerment.

A/N: This is inspired by an amazing fic idea shared by @sukuna-ryo. Thank you so much for letting me explore this concept! Your creativity brought this to life, and I hope I did it justice. 💕

Chapter 1 - The Price of Curiosity

The room smelled faintly of metal and antiseptic, overpowered by the stink of Sukuna’s restraints. He leaned back in his chair, chains rattling against the bolted-down table, lips curved into an irritated smirk. Another day, another self-important idiot thinking they could peel back the layers of Ryomen Sukuna like some common criminal.

When the door opened, his curiosity barely flickered. Until she walked in.

Unlike the usual parade of interrogators or officials, she carried herself with a casual confidence. No clipboard. No body armor. Just a slim file in her hand and eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sukuna,” she said as she sat across from him, her tone light, unbothered.

His gaze dragged over her like a predator sizing up prey. “And you are?”

“Dr. Y/N L/N. Forensic psychologist. I’m here to evaluate you.”

He chuckled, low and mocking. “Oh, they sent another one. Let me guess—you’re going to crack open my head and figure out what makes me tick?”

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “Something like that.”

Leaning forward, Sukuna rested his chin on his palm, the chains clinking with the movement. “Tell me, Doc, what’s the diagnosis so far?”

“You’re impatient,” she said easily. “And maybe a little bored.”

For the first time in years, Sukuna’s smirk faltered—just a hair. “Keep talking.”

She set the file down, not even opening it. “You’re not here because of some uncontrollable bloodlust, are you? You’re not a mindless killer. Every choice you make has purpose. Even your cannibalistic tendencies—they’re calculated.”

His grin widened, shark-like. “You’ve done your homework.”

“I have,” she replied, leaning forward slightly. Her voice dropped, just enough to draw him in. “I know you don’t just eat to survive or for power. You do it to send a message. To dehumanize your victims.”

“Or to elevate myself,” he shot back, amused. “It’s not about dehumanization, Doctor. It’s about taking what others won’t. What they can’t.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “And what does that give you?”

“Dominance.” His tone was smug, matter-of-fact. “In every way that matters.”

There was a pause, the kind that should have made anyone squirm. But Y/N met his gaze without flinching.

“Does it ever get old?” she asked softly.

The question caught him off guard, though he didn’t let it show. “You’d be surprised, Doc. The taste of fear? That never gets old.”

She leaned back, as if satisfied, and tapped a finger on the edge of the table. “You fascinate me, Sukuna. You don’t just kill—you savor it. I’ve seen your records. You’re… meticulous.”

“You sound impressed,” he teased, voice low and dangerous.

“Maybe I am.” Her smile was small but sharp. “Or maybe I see potential.”

His laughter echoed through the room, rich and feral. “Potential for what? Rehabilitation?”

“Something like that,” she said cryptically. .

---

The sessions continued daily. Y/N’s approach was unorthodox—no lectures, no moralistic speeches. She asked questions that dug deep, steering the conversations toward his cannibalistic acts. Why this victim, why that moment? What did he feel when he consumed them?

Sukuna, for once, played along, curious to see how far she’d go. She didn’t flinch at his answers, no matter how grotesque. If anything, she seemed intrigued, even... amused.

“You’re not like the others,” he said one day, eyes narrowing as she scribbled something in her notes.

“Is that a compliment?”

“An observation.”

Her smile was polite, but her eyes betrayed something darker. “Maybe we’re not so different.” .

The room was quiet after Y/N left for the day. Sukuna leaned back, replaying their conversation. She was digging for something, and he wasn’t sure what. Not fear. Not control. Something deeper.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he mulled it over.

---

Meanwhile, Y/N stepped into her dimly lit apartment, setting her bag down by the door. She pulled off her coat, revealing the faintest smear of something dark—something red—on the cuff of her sleeve.

In the kitchen, she opened her fridge. Rows of vacuum-sealed packages lined the shelves, each labeled with dates and initials. She reached for one, her fingers brushing the plastic before pulling it out.

“Meticulous,” she murmured, her smile stretching wide as she placed the package on the counter. A butcher’s knife gleamed under the fluorescent light.

As she sliced into the flesh, her mind wandered to the child she had rescued from an alley once, its tiny body trembling with gratitude. The memory turned deliciously dark as she savored the look of dawning horror on its face when it realized not every woman was as kind as its mother. Y/N reveled in the bitter taste of fear—fear that lingered, even after the flesh was cooked.

She set the knife down, adjusting the heat on the stove to a low simmer. A small smile tugged at her lips, wicked and sharp. “He thinks he’s a monster,” she murmured, almost lovingly. “He has no idea.”

---

Back in the cell, Sukuna’s smirk returned. His instincts screamed that Y/N L/N was far more dangerous than she appeared.

And for the first time in years, he wasn’t bored.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 💀✨ I had way too much fun diving into the twisted dynamic between Sukuna and Y/N. What did you think of their little “therapy session”? Who do you think is the real monster here? 👀 I’d love to hear your thoughts, theories, or even just your favorite line! Drop a comment and let me know if you’d like more stories like this—or if you think Sukuna ever stood a chance. 😉

Chapter 2 - Flesh and Stone (Tumblr/AO3)

All Works Masterlist

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jeun-bug · 5 months ago

Note

Had a hilarious idea so here’s brainrotting anon back again:

Tweet: “Overheard a student go up to MC and say ‘I need you to be a girl for a second’. MC looked down, grabbed her own tits, and said ‘do these not count for that? Does this mean I can go topless when I’m sweating my ass off in Jabberwock?!’ And *insert ghoul here* just slaps them upside the head”

(I personally think it’d be funny if it was Jin, who in one of the rare times he leaves his room overheard the honor student say that and is just like “wtf why do I want this dumbass again??”. Though Tohma, Sho, Ren, or Jiro are good candidates too. I just think a lot of the others who try to lecture them out of it, would try to egg it on as teasing flirting, would try to genuinely-ish encourage it for the chaos, or just wouldn’t care.)

HAHAHAH you’re totally right. I think alan would put his hand on top of the inspector’s head and just like…. roughly ruffle their hair, yk?

my MC is gender neutral, but i can absolutely see this going down with a female-bodied MC

this got surprisingly long lolol more hc’s under the cut <3

kaito would flip out 😭😭 he’s rapidly moving between “HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT THE HONOR STUDENT ISNT A GIRL ALL THE TIME” and “INSPECTOR YOU CANT JUST SHOW THOSE OFF TO ANYONE IM THE KNLY ONE ALLOWED TI SEE THEM ITS NAUGHTY TO SHOW THEM OFF IN PUBLIC”

romeo would also backhand them, sho would scoff and shove them away. leo would encourage it until he realizes it’s probably Not Great if his fake partner gets caught topless in public.

jiro wouldn’t care, he’s like “i see them topless all the time? it’s just boobs?”. yuri would blush so hard thinking about seeing the inspector’s chest in a non-medical scenario that he nearly passes out.

i feel like rui and haku would get lowkey defensive but try to play it off as flirting like “um hey hello??? you can’t just show those off those are my eyes only???” LMAO

ren and zenji would shout at them for considering it 😭 imagine zenji “MY DEAR!!! YOUR BODY IS A TEMPLE, YOU CANNOT ALLOW THOSE WHO ARE UNWORTHY (everyone besides me) TO LAY THEIR EYES UPON YOUR BEAUTIFUL FORM!!!!!”

lyca and ed wouldn’t care i think. ed would get flirty about it lolol

poor subaru would be bright red and desperately trying to navigate discouraging it AND being polite and not overstepping lmao “well…. um, i mean- i don’t mean to overstep or anything…. it’s just…. that sort of thing is…. of course, it’s ultimately your choice…. but….” 😭😭

taiga would lose it and actively encourage them to take their top off NOW like “ cmon inspector you said it. it would be so funny cmon “

haru gasps, affronted, and covers peekaboo’s ears, “inSPECtor!!! if it’s that hot, i’ll buy you a portable fan!!!! there is no need for that!!!!!!!”

ritsu would lecture the GA student about harassment laws and then turn around and lecture the inspector about public nudity laws.

if it’s said around towa, jabberwock park doesn’t know a single day of peaceful weather for a week, after which the GA student mysteriously goes missing lolol

you’re totally right about jin 😭 he’s like “if this is what you’re getting up to when i leave you alone, i’ll just have to start following you around everywhere to keep you out of trouble.” and everyone besides the MC immediately realizes he’s just trying to find excuses to spend time with them.

tohma and luca would both lecture the inspector about it, but tohma would be lowkey laughing to whole time LMAO he’s like “that’s incredibly improper, inspector. if you’re going to work so closely with frostheim, i must ask that you do your best to maintain a respectable image” but he’s just a shit eating grin on his face bc he’s truly a vagastrom boy at heart LMAOO

#bro i forgot to add tags when i posted this #tdb #tokyo debunker #jeunib’s inbox

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emmg · 8 months ago

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Imagine for a second everyone ends up happy and Lavellan and Solas get back together. Cue Dorian popping a blood vessel.

Dorian: “You’re back with this fuck?"

Lavellan, flustered: "I can explain—"

Dorian: "With this living omelette?"

Lavellan: "It's not—"

Dorian: "This balding crypt keeper with the emotional range of a brick wall and a wardrobe that makes him look like a discount drapery store threw up on him? The same one who poofed away after saying some cryptic shit about I WiSh iT CoUlD vHenAn?"

Solas: “The mark would have—"

Dorian: "Shut the fuck up, cue ball. I don't care if the mark was going to explode, you still look like you wash your clothes in your own self-pity. And you—" jabs a finger at Lavellan, "what’s your excuse? Has it really been so long that the sight of a naked skull and endless 'mystical' speeches turned you on again?"

Lavellan: “It’s more than that—"

Dorian: "More than that?! He abandoned you, took your fucking arm, and now you’re letting him back in your bed? Are you out of your mind or just starved for terrible decisions? You could’ve had anyone. But no, you pick the fade's worst motivational speaker.”

Solas: “Master Pavus, this is between—”

Dorian: “Oh no, don’t even try that ‘Master Pavus’ nonsense with me. You’ve got the emotional depth of a wet mop and a sex appeal that makes a mud pit look enticing. And yet here you are, again, trying to guilt-trip your way back into her pants with your world-saving speeches. What is it, Solas? You gonna whisper sweet nothings about 'the averted apocalypse' this time? Maybe throw in a lecture on why she was just not woke enough to understand your big, tragic plan but it's fine since everything worked out?"

Rook and Emmrich in their happy, non toxic relationship: :0

Solas: "Dorian—"

Dorian: "No, no, shut the fuck up. Seriously, what do you even do that’s remotely appealing? What did you do for the past ten years? Did you just sit there, staring at a wall, philosophizing about how it’s not 'connected to the Fade' while Lavellan was over there, not that far, mind you, actually trying to live her life?"

Lavellan, miserably: “Dorian, please—"

Dorian: "Do you know how many tears she cried over your wrinkly, bald ass? The sleepless nights? And for what? So you could show up with the same damn sad expression, like a dog that got kicked, expecting her to fall right back into your arms? Well, congratulations, you manipulative little twat, it worked. You got her again. But if you think for one second I’m going to sit here and let this farce play out without letting you know exactly what I think—"

Solas: “This is not your concern—"

Dorian, grinning viciously: "Not my concern? Oh, it’s my concern now, you ancient, egg-headed disaster. You took her arm, and now, what? You’re back for the other one too? What’s next? Gonna steal her dignity too? No, wait—" He flips both of them off. "You already did that. Honestly, Lavellan, were you that desperate? Did your standards drop so low that this walking mid-life crisis seemed like a good idea AGAIN?"

Lavellan, trying to hide: "I just thought—"

Dorian: "No, no, you didn't think. You never think when it comes to this pointy-eared monk reject. You just let him walk all over you with his cryptic, brooding bullshit and now here we are—again. Tell me, Lavellan, how many bad life choices does it take before you finally learn not to open your legs to misery?"

Lavellan: “Dorian—”

Dorian, rounding on Solas: "You’ve got some nerve coming back, Solas. You with your ‘oh woe is me, I didn't fix the world so I'll ruin this woman's life instead again’ schtick. And for what? What do you even have to offer besides a fucking headache and a masterclass in celibacy?”

#solas #solavellan #dragon age 4 #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dorian pavus #dorian is the mvp #we all need dorian #save us from the egg dorian we beg you

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sirjaketkiszka · 9 months ago

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Silver Springs: Chapter One

Early20s!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I know I could have loved you but you would not let me…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Josh breaks some news when he invites you to watch the band practice.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Word count: 4,427

Warnings: extremely light cursing, dialogue-heavy, and poor writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Silver Springs Masterpost

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The minutes seem to pass by excruciatingly slow, and the dull sound of ticking captures your full attention. Resting your chin on your open palm, your eyes focus on the wall-mounted clock's second hand passing over the minute lines. The voice of your professor has been completely drowned out at this point, the low vibrations of his voice just barely reaching your ears. Just as expected, once the clock indicates 2:30 pm, students lift from their seats and gather their belongings.

The sound of rustling, backpacks zipping up, and chairs shoved back under desks pulls your attention away from the clock, your dry eyes blinking a couple of times from your previous zoning out. Looking to your left, Josh shoves his textbook back into his bag, silently cursing when it won’t fit all the way. Following suit, you grab your textbook, laptop, and notepad off of the tabletop and neatly place them in your book bag.

“I don’t know how you keep yours so organized,” Josh frustratingly huffs, forcefully zipping up his bag, “There’re too many things to carry.” He groans, standing up and struggling to sling the cross-body strap of his bag over his head.

“I think it’s a you problem, Josh,” You chuckle, zipping up your bag, pulling the strap over your shoulder, and standing from your seat. The lecture room is nearly empty now with only a handful of students, yourself and Josh included, scattered about. Without saying a word, Josh follows behind you as you both wave goodbye to your professor, exit the room, and enter the large hallway where fellow students scatter about, “You’d think you’d be better at organizing since it’s basically the end of the year,” You tease, smirking at him.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” He rolls his eyes, speeding up slightly to walk in front of you. Spinning around, he walks backward and faces you, completely disregarding anyone behind him. You can’t help but glance over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure he doesn’t bump into anyone, “So, you coming over to my place to watch band practice?” He asks, an eager smile pulling at his lips.

“Do I have a choice?” You question.

“Not really, because-”

“Because you drove here,” You finish his sentence, “Yep, I figured as much.”

“Oh, come on,” He begins, but nudges someone on accident and silently apologizes, taking that as his cue to walk beside you again, “It’ll be fun! You never watch us practice anymore.” He mocks a whine.

“Okay, okay, fine,” You say, looking around nervously at the surrounding students who are also making their way to the hall’s exit, “Um, will…” You clear your throat and frown at the stupid question, but ask anyway, “Will Jake be there?”

“Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, I know, stupid question,” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

“I’ll never understand your distaste for him,” Josh chuckles and shakes his head as he opens the hall’s exit door, holding it open for you to cross the threshold. When you step outside, the late spring, and early summer heat washes over your body, the blistering sun piercing your cool skin.

“That’s because he’s your twin,” You explain, the both of you walking toward the university’s parking lot, “And it’s not just me who dislikes him, trust me, the feeling is very mutual.”

And you are very correct when you say that. Of course, Josh doesn’t understand the extent of the mutual disliking, but he knows of it. Ever since you and Josh became friends, nearly seven years ago as freshmen in high school, you and Jake have never seen eye-to-eye. Personally? You think he’s full of himself, arrogant, and way too cocky for his own good. To everyone else, though, he’s apparently kind, understanding, and passionate, whatever that means.

“Well, I’m trusting you to behave tonight,” Josh half-teases and comes to a stop when you reach his car; an old, beat-up truck.

“I always do,” You argue, making your way to the passenger side as he unlocks the doors, “It’s him you should worry about,” You huff out, plopping into the passenger seat and immediately getting uncomfortable by the gathered heat. The inside of the truck is stuffy, and the unbearable warmth blankets your skin, suffocating you.

As soon as he starts the car, the aged engine sputters and roars to life causing a loud purr to vibrate the cabin and bed of the truck. Without missing a beat, you both immediately roll the windows down due to the lack of air conditioning.

“You’re probably right about that,” He admits, backing out of the parking spot and nearly zooming out of the parking lot as he drives in the direction of his family home. The drive is only thirty minutes; our hair collectively wisping in the strong wind current through your cracked windows. Previous layers of sweat dry in the semi-cool breeze, and views of tall trees blur in your peripheral. The music on the radio is low, but Josh talks the entire time; about his day, your shared classes, and where the band is performing next.

“Do you think you’ll be touring soon?” You ask, your voice slightly raised to battle the loud current of air.

“Maybe not on our own, but hopefully as openers,” He responds in an equally loud voice, his eyes concentrated on the road ahead of him. You simply nod, your gaze slowly drifting to look outside the passenger window. The journey to his house entails views of crop fields and thick forests. It doesn’t take long before you turn into a residential area, indicating your very soon arrival.

Dread, or nerves, you’re not entirely sure, wrap around your torso when the Kiszka house comes into view. Josh pulls up next to the curb in front of his house and puts the car in park, prompting the both of you to roll your windows up before shutting off the engine. You quickly exit the vehicle before the heat creeps back in, slamming the heavy door shut behind you, and Josh following closely behind.

The garage is already open, signaling to Josh that his brothers are patiently waiting for him. You hang back slightly, allowing Josh to walk ahead of you.

“Hey, guys,” Josh greets once you’re at the top of the driveway, two of the band members slowly coming into your view, “Y/n is going to be joining us today.” He informs them while entering the garage and setting his bag down on the old, discolored couch. You follow behind him, flashing a nervous smile to Sam and Danny, who are already smiling at you.

Sam and Danny are still seniors in high school, although they’ll be graduating next week, and they’re always happy to see you. Danny subconsciously fixes his frizzy hair, his meek smile lingering on you, making you chuckle to yourself. Sam, on the other hand, is full-on smirking at you and making his way over as you take a seat on the couch.

“So,” He begins, running a hand through his long hair, “you finally came to see me, huh?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Sam, for the hundredth time, I am too old for you,” You laugh, knowing he’s not serious, but rather keeping up the running joke that he has a crush on you. A joke that started when he was much younger, and more specifically when you and Josh first became friends. Jake was the one who made the joke to tease him when you started coming over a lot more. Speaking of which, where is Jake?

“Worth a shot,” He shrugs, turning on his heel and walking back to his keyboard, residing on its stand to the left of the room.

“What made you come today?” Danny finally asks from behind his drum kit, his hands fiddling with the drumsticks as he speaks.

“Well,” You glare at Josh, who’s actively avoiding eye contact by staring at the ceiling, “I didn’t have much of a choice, but I’m happy to be here.” You conclude, smiling at Danny, not wanting to sound too miserable about watching them practice. You’ve watched them before, and they are damn good, but it’s more so… the Jake of it all that makes you avoid it. To be fair, Jake has never warmed up to the idea of you attending practices either. Something about you being too distracting for the band? You couldn’t remember, but it was enough to make you stop going altogether.

“I figured she was overdue for a practice,” Josh explains to Danny, making him nod in agreement, “And I’d argue that we’ve gotten much better since the last time you watched us,” He pauses, “What? Two months ago?” He asks. That was around the time you stopped coming over unless it was to hang out with Josh.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” You answer, sighing. Part of you felt guilty for avoiding band practices for so long, after all, you should be supporting your best friend. Another part of you knew it was for the best, especially since the reason just walked into the garage.

“Jake! Look who’s here,” Josh says happily, holding his arms out to present you to Jake, like it was a good thing you were there. When he looks at you, his face is straight but his eyes are pained? Disgusted? Annoyed? He’s wearing his usual get-up; a self cut-up graphic tee, a pair of jeans that fit just right, and Chelsea boots that somehow work well with the outfit. His shoulder-length hair is slightly ruffled, signaling that he’s been running his hands through his hair; something he does when he’s stressed, not that you cared.

“Nice,” Jake mumbles, his eyes sweeping over your seated position, making you feel small. You hated that he could do that; make a person feel small with just a single look. With his eyes leaving yours, he picks up his plugged-in acoustic guitar and slings the strap over his shoulder, “Ready?” He asks, wasting no time and a little annoyed, looking at the other band members.

You turn to Josh, who gives you a comforting smile, to which you return an unsure one. You watch as he leaves your side, walks to the mic stand, and takes his place between his brothers– Sam to his right and Jake to his left.

Collectively, Josh and Jake turn on their respective amps, causing a small amount of feedback to fill the garage. Jake plucks his strings as Sam plays a few notes on the keys, checking the volume of the speakers while Josh mumbles unintelligible words into the mic. The floor beneath you gently trembles, carrying the sound of the speakers to your planted feet. You smile eagerly, your hands fidgeting in your lap, patiently waiting for them to begin.

“Flower Power?” Josh asks into the mic, looking around at his bandmates. They all nod, readying themselves, “1…2…3…” He whispers into the mic, looking at Jake. As on cue, Jake begins strumming the strings of his guitar, and a beautiful tune hits all corners of the small garage. It’s a tune you’re very familiar with, one you’ve heard since they started playing together, but it never loses its beauty.

Simultaneously, Sam fluidly moves his fingers above the keys, and it hardly looks like it takes effort to create such an alluring melody. Danny joins in with the pounding of his drums which immediately travels through your feet and shakes your core. Last to come in, or the best for last as he says, is Josh, whose smooth voice sounds equally unique as it is nostalgic.

“She is a lady, comes from all around,” He begins singing, sending you a wink as he does so, making you smile and shake your head. Your eyes scan the band; Sam mouths along to the tune as he plays, and Danny’s mouth mimics a ticking sound, while Jake’s body rocks back and forth with every strum and pluck of string. Lingering on Jake, you watch as his eyes absentmindedly close as he strums, his eyebrows knitting in concentration, and mouth hanging slightly agape. With your mouth suddenly feeling dry, you gulp and sit up straight, peeling your eyes away from Jake.

Every once in a while, though, your eyes drift back to him; the music flowing through his body with every forceful stomp, every rock of his hips, and every whispered word on his parted lips. You couldn’t deny that when he played, he did it well, and if you aren’t mistaken, you can almost swear that Jake’s eyes drift to you every time you look away; burning holes in the side of your face as you keep your focus on Josh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the practice is relatively normal, with a few passive-aggressive remarks between the Kiszka siblings, but again, relatively normal. As soon as practice is officially over, Jake can’t get out of there fast enough; swiftly unplugging his 1961 Les Paul, placing it on its guitar stand, and booking it for the exit without a single word.

You look over to Josh with a confused expression painted on your features, but he just shrugs nonchalantly and places the microphone back on the mic stand. Making his way to the couch, you scoot over to make room for him, letting him plop down next to you. “So, what’d you think?” He asks, slightly out of breath.

“Josh, you guys were amazing,” You answer honestly, turning to face him fully, and smiling at the growing talent of your best friend, “You’re going to go so far.”

“Thank you,” He says, smiling in return, his adorable tooth gap shining through more than anything. You’ve always loved his smile, and it made you wonder if Jake’s was the same, not that you saw it much whenever you were around anyway. “So, are you staying for dinner?” Josh asks, his genuine smile morphing into a sly one.

“You’re my ride,” You point out once again, squinting suspiciously and seeing right through him, “Do I have much of a choice?”

“Not really, no,” He smiles wider, knowing he’s gotten his way, “But, if you don’t want to stay, I won’t make you.” He says, holding his hands up in defense.

“I’m only joking when I complain about staying,” You assure him, not wanting him to think you dislike being around him or his family, “Of course I’ll stay for dinner.”

“Perfect!” He exclaims, shooting up from the couch, and holding his hand out for you to take it. When you do, he yanks you from your seated position, and you nearly lose your balance when you get to your feet. Releasing your hand, Josh grabs his bag and your bag, motioning you to follow him into the house. “We’re ordering pizza.” He states matter-of-factly over his shoulder.

You glance back at Danny and Sam, who are staying behind to debrief the practice, and walk up the short steps to the entrance that connects the kitchen to the garage. Like a gentleman, Josh holds open the door for you, allowing you to walk in before him.

The house is much cooler than the garage, where the peak spring warmth accumulates heavily, making the air sickeningly thick and humid. The sheen layer of sweat bordering your features dries quickly with the soft blow of air conditioning carrying around the house. Behind you, Josh sets both his bag and your bag on the kitchen table residing next to the garage entrance.

“Any suggestions?” Josh asks, referring to the pizza, as he picks up the home phone. Turning around to look at him, you silently shake your head, knowing you’ll be content with whatever he decides. While Josh calls in the order, you wander into the empty living room; different shades of autumn brown blanket every surface, family photos litter the tan walls, and an overstuffed shelf struggles to uphold an impressive collection of vinyl.

Since the first moment you walked through the door many years ago, the faint smell of cinnamon has always lingered, seeping into the worn furniture and even your clothes by the time your visit was over. It was a smell you grew quite fond of, and a smell you always associated with the Kiszkas.

“Pizza’s ordered,” Josh says from behind you, entering the living room, and walking past you to plop onto the faux-leather recliner next to the stairs. Following suit, you plop onto the large matching couch next to him, immediately sprawling out on the soft cushions and staring at the off-white ceiling. “So, finals are next week.” You hear Josh say from the recliner, his voice carrying above you.

“Yep,” You frustratingly sigh at the thought of them, “then our sophomore year of college is over– then onto the next.” You couldn’t wait for your college career to be over; you majored in Photography while Josh majored in Film, but you both had overlapping classes. Photography was something you participated in as a hobby, but you figured, why not make it a career? Sometimes you regret your decision.

“Yeah…” Josh responds with a sense of uncertainty on his tongue, making you take your focus off of the ceiling and lift your head to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, propping yourself on your elbows when you see the upset look on his face. It’s not a look he portrays often, and when he does, it worries you immensely. He stays silent for a moment longer, his lips parting ever so slightly, then closing again when words can’t form, “Josh, talk to me.” You urge him, your pulse actively climbing with anxiety.

“You know how I mentioned we might be touring as openers soon?” He asks, his eyes looking anywhere but yours. You were really getting nervous now, causing you to push yourself up into a slumped seated position, fully facing Josh, who still refused to look at you.

“Yes?” You simply answered, growing curious.

“We are touring as openers,” He rushes out in a strong exhale, making his shoulders slump in relief, and as if a weight has been physically lifted off of him.

“Josh!” You gasp his name, your back straightening from shock, “That’s great! When are you touring?” You ask excitedly, but his demeanor doesn’t match yours.

“August,” He answers.

“August,” You repeat back, the excited pitch of your voice still present, but gradually fading, “As in a couple of months, August?”

“Yes, that August.” His response makes your shoulders slump again, and mixed emotions tug at every facial feature. You’re smiling, happy for your friend, but your eyebrows furrow, attempting to understand the situation.

“What about school?” You press for more information before jumping to conclusions.

“I’m dropping out,” He quietly says, almost too quiet because you have to lean forward to capture his words, “After this semester, I’m done.”

“Forever?” You fully frown, your mouth suddenly going dry, and your heart pumping at an unsteady rhythm from the roller coaster of emotions.

“Indefinitely,” He tries to sound optimistic, but ultimately fails, “but, yeah, probably forever.”

“That’s…” You attempt to form words, any words, but they fall short and catch at the back of your throat, causing a whispered straining sound to come out, “...Okay.”

“I know,” He sighs, his eyes finally drifting to you.

“Your dream–”

“I know,” He repeats, a little too loudly, “But I can always come back to it.”

“I guess,” You pause for a moment, thinking of the situation at hand; you were proud of Josh, no doubt about it. Although, all that could echo in your mind was that being in a band was never his dream, working in film and creating films was, no, is. Knowing Josh, he’s already thought this through, and he knows the risk he’s taking. So, scooting closer to the edge of the couch, and closer to Josh, you reach over and grab his hands, giving him reassuring squeezes, “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” He asks, a sad smile on his face.

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous,” You playfully roll your eyes, bringing his hands up to your heart, “I will always support you.”

“I knew you would,” He smiles genuinely, his rosy cheeks reaching his eyes, “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” You smile back, releasing his hands, which were getting quite sweaty. They fall into his lap, his fingers instantly fidgeting, and he absentmindedly chews on his lower lip. By his demeanor, you can tell the situation still weighs heavily on his conscience, “So, what are we doing for the summer before you leave me forever?” You ask with a small laugh, attempting to lighten the heavy mood, while leaning back to lay down on the couch again with your hands interlocked behind your head.

“First, it’s not forever, it’s like three weeks,” He chuckles, rocking back on the recliner, making it groan in response, “Second, I’m not sure, but I’d like to make the most of it.”

“Me too,” You agree, making a comfortable silence fall between the two of you, with the faint ticking of a clock suddenly sounding too loud. Still, your heart beats rapidly, imagining a school year without Josh, hell, even a town without Josh. You’ve been attached at the hip for seven years, and you can’t help but fear what distance might do to a close friendship.

Startling you both, a loud, forceful knock at the door causes you to swiftly sit up, and Josh shoots up from the recliner, the back of it rocking into the wall behind it, mimicking the current knocking.

“That was fast,” He observes and walks to the front door, fishing out his worn-out wallet from his back pocket. Without paying much attention, you listen to the exchange of Josh handing the money over for the pizza, thanking the delivery driver, and shutting the door with his foot. He reappears in your view, a large square box accompanying him, “Pizza’s here!” He shouts, loud enough for Jake, Danny, Sam, and the damn neighbors to hear. The sheer force of his voice causes you to flinch, a smirk forming on your lips as you shake your head in disbelief.

“Aren’t you supposed to not completely strip your vocal cords?” You ask, laughing while sitting back up.

“Yeah, well, it’s whatever,” He shrugs, leaving you in the living room.

As you’re about to stand from the couch, Jake’s footsteps thud down the steps, each stride earning a small whimper from the aged floorboards. Scrambling to get up, the task proves to be hard when the couch cushions' soft state causes your hands to sink back into them. “Damnit,” You silently curse, heat rising to your cheeks from being flustered.

When Jake reaches the bottom of the stairs, he pauses, watching you shove yourself off of the couch. Huffing out a breath, you immediately feel his presence and glance over at him; his face is stoic, his features carved from stone, and his eyes bored, but a small smirk pulls at his lips. Not a moment passes before he swiftly walks past you, causing a subtle breeze in the once-stagnant air. Your hair whooshes in his direction, reaching out to him, and he’s followed by the faint smell of cologne and smoke. Realizing your reaction, your breathing halts, unintentionally holding his rich scent in your expanded lungs.

Blinking rapidly, and exhaling a sharp breath, you walk into the kitchen where Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny are all picking at the pizza on the kitchen table like vultures sharing an animal carcass. Luckily, Josh has set aside a plate for you with two slices of pepperoni pizza neatly placed on top. The others, however, grab what they can and hurridly stack the slices onto their plates. Stepping around Josh, you grab your plate and squeeze his shoulder to silently thank him.

With the pizza box empty, you, Josh, Danny, and Sam all file into the living room, with you and Josh calling dibs on the couch, making the two boys sit on the floor. The recliner remains empty, though, probably for Jake.

“So, you coming to the bonfire next weekend?” Josh asks, his mouth full of chewed-up pizza, making you grimace. He has a bad habit of talking with his mouth full.

“Of course, I am,” You answer, taking your first bite of pizza after you respond.

“Good,” He says happily, shoving a large bite of pizza into his mouth.

Jake finally enters the living room, holding a cold beer in his hand, and surveying the full room. His right eye twitches slightly, and he looks to the stairs, most likely deciding to eat in his room. Paying him no mind, you swallow your previous bite, “Do you mind if I bring a friend?” You ask Josh as Jake slowly treads across the living room and toward the stairs.

“Sure! Is it that guy you’ve been talking to?” Josh asks, once again with his mouth full, but doing his best to push the food aside with his tongue. Before you answer, Jake’s steps falter, and instead of going up the stairs, he turns and sits on the recliner. Everyone, including Sam and Danny, who were deep in conversation a moment ago, looks at Jake. Although, he takes a sip of his beer, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Um… Yeah,” You hesitate in your answer, still taken aback by Jake’s voluntary presence. Shaking your head slightly to get out of the trance that is Jake, you turn back to Josh, “Yeah, it’s the guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Great! I can’t wait to meet him,” Josh says enthusiastically.

“I’m sure,” You respond, nerves hanging on the ends of your words. Josh has nothing to do with this reaction, but more so, it’s yourself. You’d be lying if you said it was easy meeting guys and keeping them in your life, but it’s not. They either come off too strong or are way too boring. There was no in-between. This new guy, however, you’re hoping he’s different. You do like him, as a person, but you haven’t quite felt that… connection. “I’ve been promising him to hang out soon, so it’ll be nice to have you there.” You say truthfully.

“Of course,” Josh smiles, his cheeks stuffed with food, and his plate becoming empty quickly. You’ve hardly touched your first slice since you can’t help but notice eavesdropping ears to your right; Jake. His eyes are fixed forward, zoning out on the well-loved but stained carpet, but you can tell he’s listening. For whatever reason, you didn’t know.

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That was chapter one of Silver Springs! I’d like to apologize if it seems a little fast paced and uneventful, but I promise it will get better as time goes on. The chapters will likely get longer as well since I have a lot planned for this fic, I just needed to lay the groundwork with this chapter. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it and I’d love to hear your opinions! All my love!

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Tag list:

@aflame4goinghome @peaceloveunitygvf @dilflover-4ever @hollyco @samfkiszka @dayumclarizzel

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!)

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