#also I grew my hair out and I���m less blond now

[seungrem]

Seonghwa (Ateez) x male!reader

Burying the Hatchet

request ~*+ - masterlist ~*+ - part 1 of ??

summary: Though rival mob bosses separating their territories by north and south, m!reader and Seonghwa frequently bump into each other at socialite events. With tension building up in m!reader’s half of the city, he needs decide whether or not to confide in his connections for support.

( overview: mafiaboss!seonghwa, mafiaboss!reader, both socialites and well known, reader controls the south, seonghwa controls north, associates/goons = mob members, Ricky (zb1) feature because he’s very mob coded, reader is lowkey tsundere, established non-romantic relationship w/ eachother, reader inherits wealth, the park family = seonghwa’s mob group )

( warnings: mentions of plausible violence (guns/fighting), blood, injuries (scrapes/bruises/cuts), hostile personalities, mentions of psychotic/psychopathic behavior, threats, cursing )

emoji code:

🌿 ( long story/series )

-🧸 ( very light fluff )

🫧 ( pieces of angst here and there )

🪐 ( mafia / mob AU )

☁️ ( stands for y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Chatter echoed through a ballroom bustling of attires fit for only the most affluent. If it were up to him, ☁️ would be perched on the mezzanine, people watching until the gala had concluded. Instead, he walked into room preparing a flashy smile to anyone who would have the misfortune of catching his gaze.

“Can I take your jacket for you, sir?”

As ☁️ awaited the host of the gala’s presence, a teenage boy wearing a tuxedo approached him. The boy flinched slightly as ☁️ turned in his direction, ☁️ assuming he was just someone who worked there.

“No- I’ll keep it, thank you. Could you tell me where Ricky is, though?” ☁️ asked, turning his attention back to the crowd of people in the distance.

Though the two were the same age (early 20s), Ricky had made a name for himself apart from his parents- unlike ☁️. The man had the city’s media in a chokehold, with news of his whereabouts and appearances circling weekly. In contrast, ☁️ had inherited his parent’s wealth and “business” after their passing. The public also kept a close eye on him, but for reasons less alluring.

“Last I’ve seen he was on the other side of the room beside the DJ. Here’s your pamphlet.”

“Thank you.” ☁️ replied, him then taking the paper and watching the boy scurry away. He sighed as he flipped through the pages, reading carefully over the guest list and seating arrangements.

‘What the hell is Seonghwa doing here?’ ☁️ muttered to himself before taking a few steps toward the crowd. Recognizing a familiar face slip out of the mass and approach him with a smile, he quickly placed the pamphlet into his suit jacket as he walked.

“☁️, how have you been?” Ricky called out, waving to the man as the two closed the distance in between them. It was then that the two embraced, holding each other for a moment more. ☁️ noticed Ricky’s navy blue suit had a velvet look to it, him feeling the texture as he held onto the man’s forearms.

“I’ve been great, how about you? And what happened to the blonde?” ☁️ responded, smiling and then pointing to Ricky’s hair. The last time that he had seen Ricky, the man had bleached his hair a platinum silver. Now, his raven-black hair was slicked back, with a few strands falling onto his forehead.

“I’ve been better, and my roots grew out so I just dyed it back to a natural color. But listen, before you leave tonight, I’d like to speak to you. In the meantime, you need to do your rounds.”

☁️ huffed, knowing that this meant he had to greet everyone.

“We’ll be fast.” Ricky assured, once again grabbing the man’s arm and escorting him through the crowd.

☁️ smiled, introduced himself, shook hands, and kissed cheeks more times than he remembered that night. Following a conversation with a couple, Ricky led ☁️ out of the crowd, the two now standing for a moment.

“We done?” ☁️ asked, exhaling.

“One more. You aren’t going to like it, but please be respectful. I don’t want my gala to become a war-zone.”

“Is it Seonghwa?”

“Yes. But-“

“Why the hell did you invite him?”

“I do business with him just as I do with you. I’m prompting neutrality.”

“Understandable. But why do I gotta go over to him?”

“Because you two aren’t going to mean-mug each other all night like you did last year. That caused problems, did it not?” Ricky led ☁️ to his table, the two sitting beside one another.

“I don’t even have my guys with me tonight.” ☁️ argued, though he knew was simply delaying the inevitable.

“Neither does he. It’s invitation only this time.” Ricky’s tone was calm and fresh, though firm. ☁️ didn’t want to push his buttons, ultimately deciding to get it over with.

“Alright, let’s go.” ☁️ straightened his tie and stood up, Ricky following.

“Last I saw him he was standing beside the DJ’s stage. Let’s walk behind it.” Ricky said, motioning ☁️ to follow him.

The two tiptoed around the DJ’s elevated setup, emerging on the other side of the room after carefully stepping over wires and boxes.

“There he is. Behave, please.” Ricky whispered after leaning into ☁️.

“Always.” ☁️ muttered back before noticing that Seonghwa had three of his goons around him. The man leaned his back against a column and looked around the ballroom. He wore a bold outfit- a shiny gold top (that exposed some of his cleavage) with a brown fur coat and grey dress pants. His hair was in an up-do with strands hanging in front of his eyes, and silver chains dangled from his neck. ☁️ thought that Seonghwa was insanely hot, especially in this outfit, but would never vocally admit it.

“You said invitation only, Ricky.” ☁️ muttered through his teeth.

“It was... Let’s just make this quick.”

As the two approached Seonghwa, two of his goons noticed and walked over to his side.

“Seonghwa. I’m sure you remember ☁️.” Ricky chirped, hiding his nervousness very well. ☁️ and Seonghwa stared at each other for a few seconds before ☁️ forced a smile and held out his hand.

“I’m sure you’re well.” ☁️ remarked dully, watching as Seonghwa took his hand and squeezed. It took everything in ☁️ not to call him an asshole, but Ricky was luckily there to mediate.

“I am. It seems like you’re here alone tonight.. what a shame.” Seonghwa replied in his usual deep voice, ☁️ watching the man look him up and down.

“I’m here to donate to a charity, not intimidate socialites with my goons.” ☁️ kept a straight face, but wanted to laugh in Seonghwa’s face. “And you look rediculous.” ☁️ whispered after leaning into Seonghwa, only taking a step back when Ricky grabbed his arm and muttered a ‘Jeez.’ Seonghwa sneered and looked around in response, licking his teeth as he nodded in amusement. ☁️ could tell he was already ticked off.

“I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?” Seonghwa nodded his up as he spoke, patting ☁️ on the arm and nodding to Ricking before departing to his table with his goons.

“You couldn’t have made that any worse.” Ricky whined, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at ☁️.

“Somebody has to humble him.”

“I don’t want any bad blood here, ☁️.”

“I said that I understood. If he can’t take criticism then maybe he shouldn’t be The North’s premier mob boss.”

“Well Southside’s premier mob boss seems to not know how to behave.”

“I was-“ ☁️ paused. “Well… He’ll be fine.”

“Right.. I’ve been meaning to talk to him so I’m going to do that now. The service should begin in the next few minutes. Make some friends while you’re here, you need them.” Ricky said before he began walking away. ☁️ gasped teasingly, the two smiling to each other as the distance in-between them grew.

—

His footsteps tapping up the staircase’s crimson-colored carpet, ☁️ was on the hunt for someone specific. He stepped onto the mezzanine and walked over to the beige railing, him then leaning against it. Scouring over the many faces on the dance floor and sitting at tables, ☁️ found that Seonghwa was nowhere in sight despite having seen him before the service had begun. Assuming that the man had left early, ☁️ frowned and turn around.

“Whatcha doin’?” Seonghwa asked, leaning against the wall a few feet in front of ☁️. The man’s goons weren’t next to him, but ☁️ could see them on the other ends of the mezzanine through the corner of his eye.

“I was looking for you. Have a minute?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow and walked over to ☁️, standing beside him.

“Make it quick.” He muttered, looking down at the people below.

“I received this letter a few days ago. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about it.” ☁️ pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Seonghwa.

“People still write letters?” Seonghwa said with a scowl, pulling a piece of paper out of the envelope.

“So is it safe to assume that you weren’t the one to send it?”

Seonghwa took another minute to analyze the letter.

“No.. not my style... Whoever did hates you, though.” Seonghwa whispered, handing the piece of paper and envelope back to ☁️. “What’s the red stuff at the bottom? Don’t tell me it’s blood.”

“It is. Instead of signing a name, the blood is suppose to be the signature. That’s what I think, anyway.”

“Wow.. you really pissed someone off. Did you figure out whose blood it is?”

“Mine.”

Seonghwa laughed and turned to ☁️.

“So someone wrote a letter threatening you, somehow got ahold of your blood and smeared it onto the paper, and then mailed it to you?” Seonghwa shook his head with a smile. “Good luck, really. You need it.”

“I thought that you’d be more helpful. That’s all I needed, though. Have a good night.” ☁️ said, turning to walk away. Seonghwa quickly gripped his shoulder and stopped the man in his tracks. ☁️ to looked over his shoulder somewhat menacingly.

“Do you need help? Seriously.” Seonghwa’s unserious smile quickly turned into an expressionless display of concern, as he slightly leaned into ☁️.

“Never will I need your help. Stay on your side and I’ll be fine.” ☁️ quipped, brushing Seonghwa’s hand off of his shoulder and stepping away. He stopped upon hearing Seonghwa continue.

“I hate you.. but don’t die, please.”

“The hell are you talking about?” ☁️ snapped, looking over his shoulder again.

“That’s psychotic behavior, ☁️. You can’t just have one of your guys find and take care of ‘em.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t just some guy on the street.”

“No shit.” ☁️ rolled his eyes. “I have to go, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa remained silent, watching as ☁️ strolled back down the staircase.

“How the hell did they know it was there?” ☁️ walked up the stone walkway to his home, with two of his associates following beside him. The mansion had been broken into, with a suitcase full of hard drives having been taken from ☁️’s chambers.

“Respectfully sir, we suspect a mole in the group. After the passing of your parents, the associates haven’t necessarily been well-monitored.” The older man beside ☁️ replied, opening a door for him as the three arrived to the entrance.

“Please get in touch with the gentleman who set the security systems up.” ☁️ paused as he stepped inside. “Actually, I’ll just do it. You two should go home for the night.”

“But sir, we really think someone should stay with you until everything’s resolved.” The second associate replied, following ☁️ as he unbuttoned his suit jacket in the spacious living room. The room glowed in orange and yellow hues from the lit fireplace. ☁️ sighed and turned to his two henchmen, a sense of nervousness trickling down his spine. He wondered if he could trust them, but also wondered if there truly was an outsider out to get him as Seonghwa suggested.

“I’ll take care of myself and this.. situation. Please, go home.”

“At least let me contact the programmer. I’ll get him here as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

1 week later

“Two events in a row? This must be a record.”

☁️ felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Seonghwa smirked, looking ☁️ up and down. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Wasn’t sure why you invited me.” ☁️ replied, crossing your arms.

“Oh, here I thought that you wanted to support charities..”

“You held a gala one week after Ricky and invited me on short notice.”

“Seems that I did. So?”

☁️ exhaled. “Thanks but I should go.”

“Wait.” Seonghwa held his hand out to stop the man. “I heard things weren’t going well on your side of the city. You sure you don’t need help?”

☁️ looked around the crowd of people surrounding him. This ballroom was smaller than the previous gala’s, but just as loud. ☁️ leaned into Seonghwa, who reacted by leaning forward as well.

“If I find out that you’re playing me again, it won’t end up for you.” ☁️ murmured into Seonghwa’s ear. Seonghwa leaned back up, with a seemingly offended expression.

“Are you accusing me of what’s going on?”

“No, simply warning you- just in case. I need to go.”

“☁️.”

☁️ turned around and slid past people to get out of the crowd.

“☁️!!”

☁️ froze as the room went silent. Everyone turned to Seonghwa as ☁️ slowly turned around to glance back at the man. An awkward silence filled the air for a few seconds, with Seonghwa not taking his eyes off of ☁️. After the chatter picked back up, ☁️ continued out of the room, leaving an abandoned Seonghwa alone on the dance floor.

☁️ walked through the hallways and toward the glass double doors, waving down a bellman as he did so.

-

A few photographers stood behind red ropes, clicking their cameras immediately after ☁️ began descending quickly down the white staircase. A few began shouting out to him.

“Hey, ☁️! What’re you doing in The North?”

“Have you and the Park family finally made amends?”

“You look great tonight, ☁️!”

☁️ smiled and waved as a bellman pulled to the curb with his grey sports car, getting out as soon as ☁️ reached the sidewalk. The bellman handed the keys to the man as the two walked past each other, ☁️ then jumping into the drivers seat.

“Hey, Mr. ☁️. The programmer was able to stop in today.”

“That’s great, has everything been recovered?” ☁️ responded as he walked into his home, an associate beside him.

“He said he needed a password.”

“To the computer? Why didn’t you call or text me? Is he available tomorrow?”

“He’s still here, just using the bathroom. I’ll tell him you’ve arrived after you put your password in.”

☁️ looked over to the associate after hanging his suit jacket up.

“It’s midnight.”

“It’s the only time he could come this week.”

☁️ raised an eyebrow and walked to his chambers past the living quarters and down the hall. After his shoes tapped echoed through the hallway, he leaned into the double doors, pushing them open. The lamp on his desk was already turned on at the other end of the room. ☁️ also noticed that the associate was still behind him, him turning to the man before walking inside of the room. He was suspicious at this point, hearing more voices in the living quarters.

“Why don’t you go let the programmer know that I’m back. Please tell the other associates that they’re good to go, as well. I don’t need anybody here right now.”

“You want us to leave you alone with the programmer? What if he tries to-“

“That’s an order. I’ll see you tomorrow.” ☁️ narrowed his eyes, allowing his voice to become slightly belligerent.

The associate sneered and nodded, turning around and walking toward the living quarters. ☁️ sighed and closed the chamber doors behind him, walking toward the desk in front of the large stain-glass window. Bookshelves covered the left and right walls, and though the room wasn’t huge, the ceiling was very high up.

☁️ walked around the other side of the desk, sitting down and tapping the computer’s keyboard to turn the device on. He didn’t put his password in, choosing to wait for the programmer to arrive. Another thirty seconds passed before the oldest associate opened the room’s doors, walking in.

“☁️. Do you have a moment?”

“Where’s the programmer?”

“I think he’s still talking to the other associates. I think we should speak in the meantime.” The associate called out, standing at the door.

“Come.”

The associate strolled slowly over to the side of ☁️’s desk.

“What did you want to talk about.” ☁️ asked, giving the man his attention.

“You know, your father and I were extremely close. He entrusted me to do everything beside him.”

“Yes, I remember.” ☁️ nodded, tilting his head to the side.

“He also hated the Park family with every fiber of his being. And I know that you’ve been going out of your way to attend Seonghwa’s galas.”

“To support his charity and rebuild my family’s reputation. Yes.”

“Do you think that your father would’ve wanted this? To knock down the legacy that he has built?”

“Excuse me?” ☁️ snickered. He felt his body become tense, and his tone dull.

“I just think that with you as the head of this.. well, what used to be a mob group, you’ve dug our reputation into ground.”

☁️ felt his body heat up, making him stand up and grab the associate by the collar. The associate responded by pulling a gun out from his back pocket and pointing it at ☁️’s head. ☁️ exhaled and let go of the man’s collar, putting his hands to his sides.

“You need to give this up, ☁️. It’s in your best interest. Your father wouldn’t want this.”

“And his inability to be harmonious with other people is what got him killed.”

“Put your password into the computer so I can put this gun down.” The associate muttered, tapping the gun against ☁️’s head.

“No.”

“Please don’t make me do this.”

☁️ laughed.

“You’re not gonna have the password if you do ‘this.’”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t be an idiot, then.” ☁️ laughed again, pausing before quickly shuffling to the side and knocking the gun out of the man’s hand. The gun landed on the desk and slid across it, falling off on the other side. ☁️ leaped over the desk and grabbed the gun before the man could snatch it, ☁️ then kicking his knee out while still on the ground. The associate quickly stood up and ran toward ☁️ as he got on one a knee. With a loud bang, ☁️ shot the pistol, hitting the associate in the leg. The man fell to the ground and clutched his knee.

“Fuck.” ☁️ muttered under his breath, putting the gun on safety mode and into his pocket. He grabbed his computer from the desk and threw it through the stained-glass window, shattering it. The door then slammed open, with a bunch of ☁️’s members running in. After seeing the older associate on the ground, the group whipped their guns out and pointed them at ☁️. The man was already halfway out of the window at this point, him having jumped through the hole and falling into the bushes below. With scrapes and bruises along his body, ☁️ rolled out of the bush and secured the laptop beside him- though he presumed it broken. He shot up and ran alongside the mansion’s side, hopping over the iron fencing as soon as he reached the front of the building. ☁️ considered taking one of his cars, but quickly realized that the keys were still inside.

Continuing to run through the forest, he eventually emerged into the city after a few minutes. ☁️ noticed a university campus in front of him as he wandered, him power walking through it and waving a taxi down. He ran to its side and jumped in, him recognizing the driver as he did so. The two stared at each other through the rear view mirror before the driver smiled.

“Oh, right- you’re ☁️. I worked a lot with your father.”

☁️ froze with his hand on the car’s handle, preparing to run out.

“Your family has helped mine out a lot. But anyway, where to?”

“Can you just drive, please?” ☁️ asked nervously, his hand still on the handle.

“Sure thing.”

The two drove in silence for a minute before the driver pulled up to a red light.

“You alright? You look pretty disheveled there, chief.”

“Yes, just some work issues.”

The driver chuckled. “Your dad had the same problem. I’d always wait a block or two away after he handled business, and he’d come running over with ripped clothing and red fists.” He paused. “I’m a bit relieved that the whole mob business thing is dying, though. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”

☁️ pondered his words, repeating them in his head before responding. “..Yeah, I’m relieved as well. Can I bother you to drop me off in The North?”

“Oh, sure. I heard that you buried the hatchet with the Park family. That true?”

“I think that’s what I’m going to do now.”

“I see. Is there somewhere specific in the North?”

“Do you know where that gala was held today?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll have you there in a few.”

“Thanks.”

-

“Well, it’s an honor to help you through this last hurrah. I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you sir. How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t look like you have anything on you, respectfully. Just get me back next time you see me.”

☁️ nodded and slowly turned around toward the large building in front of him. There were no photographers, no red ropes, and no people wandering around at this point. With his computer under his arm, he began up the steps.

Upon walking through the glass doors, a receptionist was packing her belongings in a large purse.

“Oh, Mr. ☁️. Are you looking for the gala’s after party?” She asked as the man approached her desk.

“Ah- yes, I am. Can you tell me where it is?”

“It’s down the hallway to your left, the last door down. Also.. you’re bleeding a bit..”

☁️ looked down to where she pointed, seeing small patches of red stain through his white button-up shirt.

“Oh.. yeah, it’s just part of the outfit. Thank you though.”

“Oh, ok.. Have a goodnight.”

“You as well.”

☁️ continued down the dark hallway, stopping in front of a frosted glass door with loud music playing behind it. Streaks of blue, pink, and white flashed across the glass as he pushed the door open. The room was pretty big, with confetti and balloons spread across the floor. A group of around a hundred people danced in front of a smaller DJ booth, with a few wallflowers conversing amongst each other with glasses in their hands. ☁️ walked over to a table full of champagne glasses, grabbing one and sitting in the nearest seat against the wall. He plopped down, leaning his head against the wall and chugging the glass. He looked around, though couldn’t see Seonghwa from where he was. It didn’t help that the room was somewhat dim, with pink lights illuminating half of the room from behind the DJ. Spotlights also casted quick flashes on the dance floor, them occasionally dancing across ☁️’s body as he sat.

Choosing to calm down before searching for Seonghwa, he opened his computer and tapped the keyboard. Surprisingly, it survived the seven foot fall and still worked- the only flaw being a few cracks in the top corner of the screen and a few missing buttons on the keyboard. ☁️ sighed and placed the computer on his lap, him then closing his eyes. 

-

“Psst. Hey, sleepy head.”

☁️ heard someone whisper from beside him, making him jump. He opened his eyes and looked to his left, seeing Seonghwa sitting beside him. He clutched his computer and looked around, seeing that everyone was preparing to leave the party. The music had stopped, and a few workers were vacuuming the carpet. Seonghwa’s face was barely visible in the dim, pink lighting, though his voice was softer than ☁️ had recalled. “So, you came back..?”

“…I think I need your help.” ☁️ hummed.

Seonghwa smirked. “I won’t rub it in your face even though I wanna. Do you need a place to stay?”

☁️ nodded, standing up as Seonghwa did. Seonghwa placed a hand on ☁️’s back, guiding him to the exit. The flashing lights turned into white spotlights that illuminated the exit at this point.

The two followed the crowd out of the room and down the hallway. As they walked out of the glass doors, ☁️ recognized the cars lined up on the sidewalk, with multiple bellman awaiting the guests at the bottom of the stairs.

“We’re all the way in the front.” Seonghwa stated, walking down the staircase with ☁️ and turning right down the sidewalk. A bellman approached the two, handing Seonghwa a pair of keys. He unlocked the red sports car and removed his hand off of ☁️’s back, hurrying in front of the man to open the vehicle door for him. ☁️ rolled his eyes and attempted to hide a smile as Seonghwa gestured him inside. As he sat down, ☁️ covered the patches of red along his top with his arms and hands. Seonghwa shut the door and ran to the other side, him hopping in and hurrying to start the car. After a few seconds, the two were speeding through empty city streets.

“Have you ever been to this part of The North?” Seonghwa asked with a tender tone, turning to ☁️ as he pulled into a lofty condo complex’s garage.

“This is my city. Of course I have.”

“Our city.” Seonghwa retorted.

☁️ smiled at the answer, opening his door after Seonghwa had parked on the highest level.

“We’ll have to take the elevator to the lobby, and then we’ll take a different one to my place.” Seonghwa stated from the other side of the car. ☁️ waited for Seonghwa to lead the way, but upon standing beside ☁️, the man froze.

“What the hell happened?! You’re bleeding.”

“I know.” ☁️ sighed, him having forgotten to cover the red stains.

“You’re explaining everything once we get inside.”

“Ok.”

Seonghwa linked his arm with ☁️’s, ☁️ speculating that Seonghwa thought he was too badly injured to walk by himself, which elicited the act.

The two quickly reached the elevator and stepped inside. With mirrors along the walls, a gold accent lined the corners of the elevator. Seonghwa leaned forward to press a button, and the two were soon moving up.

“Are you tired?”

“Extremely.” ☁️ replied monotonously.

“I could tell by your tone. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep in my guest room.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take the guest room.”

“No. You can take the bigger bed.”

☁️ was too tired to argue back, instead choosing to lean against the mirror as the elevator continued. After a few more seconds, the door buzzed and the two walked through. The lobby’s lights were dim and the spacious room was empty. The men walked across the marble floor to another elevator, Seonghwa pressing the button again though the elevator doors opened immediately. The two walked through, and Seonghwa pressed the button of the highest number- 16.

“You’re on the highest floor?”

“Yes. It’s a penthouse with lots of windows , you’ll like it.”

The two stood silent for a few minutes until the elevator buzzed again, the men stepping out into a small walkway. Taking a few steps forward, Seonghwa flipped a switch, which turned on a small lamp above the two of them. He then pulled out his keychain, picking out a key and twisting it into the black door.

“After you.” Seonghwa said, gesturing ☁️ forward. Seonghwa’s penthouse was full of monotonous colors and exotic furniture- definitely a reflection of his personality. Small lamps lit the space as the two walked into the living room area. Large windows sat on each side of the walls, with the moon peering down from the large skylight above.

“I do like it.” ☁️ murmured as he moved his arm away from Seonghwa’s. Seonghwa simply smiled in response.

“Let me show you to the room.”

“Show me the guest room.”

“No.”

☁️ rolled his eyes, following Seonghwa down the end of the hallway. He switched his lamp light on, it illuminating the large bedroom. The walls, bedsheets, and furniture were all visually-pleasing shades of grey. The windows on the right side of the room touched both the floor and ceiling, stretching across most of the wall to reveal a beautiful view of the city. To the left, a door led into another room.

“Just sit on the bed. I’ll get you some new clothes and medical stuff.” Seonghwa instructed, walking into the bathroom. ☁️ walked to the bed and sat, him waiting for the man to come back out. After a minute, Seonghwa walked toward ☁️ with a small bottle, cotton balls, along with a roll of bandages and placed it beside ☁️. He then trudged over to the wardrobe across from his bed, opening it and throwing a pair of green and blue pajama pants with a white tee onto the bed.

“Those are old so they should fit you. Do you want me to get out while you change?”

“I don’t care, just turn around.” ☁️ replied taking off his pants and unbuttoning his top as Seonghwa faced his wardrobe. He threw the man’s pants on but put the tee around his neck, exposing some of his stomach and arms.

“Okay.”

Seonghwa turned around and sat on the bed. ☁️ pushed the shirt away from his arm for Seonghwa to clean.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

“My associates tried to overthrow me and take over my company’s accounts. They said I wasn’t being a mob boss.”

“Is that where the letter was from?”

“I think they’ve been planning this for a few months now. They probably got ahold of my blood after your guys tried to take over my company’s building. Your goons show no mercy.” ☁️ chuckled, but Seonghwa frowned.

“I didn’t initiate that, by the way. That was my father, and we’ve.. talked about it.”

“It hasn’t happened again, so I don’t care.”

After a few seconds of silence, Seonghwa continued disinfecting, and then wrapping ☁️’s arm.

“So what specifically happened?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well, I got home from the gala. I was told someone was coming in to help me retrieve missing data from drives that were stolen after Ricky’s gala last week. I’m pretty sure they lied, and one of my guys cocked a gun at me and told me to unlock my computer so they could use the drives they stole. I didn’t do it obviously, and I ended up shooting him. The gun probably fell out of my pants when I jumped out of the window and ran into the city.”

“You jumped out of a window?” Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly worried. He wrapped the bandage around ☁️’s arm and clipped it so that it stood in place. ☁️ lifted his pant leg up to expose another cut, him then scooting back on the bed to put the cut beside where Seonghwa sat.

“Do you mind?” ☁️ asked, looking over to Seonghwa.

“Not at all.” He replied, preparing another cotton ball to use.

“And.. yeah, I kinda did. It was only six or seven feet and I landed in a bush. So it was fine. I used this to smash the glass.” ☁️ said, pointing to the computer that he placed beside him. “That’s why it’s fucked up.”

“I have another that you can use.” Seonghwa said as he applied alcohol to the cuts.

“I have important filled on there. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet.”

The two remained quiet again until Seonghwa finished wrapping the wounds.

“Alright, you should be good.” He stated, grabbing the used cotton swabs and walking into the bathroom with them. ☁️ grabbed the alcohol bottle and roll of bandages, carrying them back into the bathroom for Seonghwa.

“It’s 2:30 in the morning. You should rest.” Seonghwa said, watching ☁️ sit back down on the bed, Seonghwa then walking to the lamp.

“Before you go-“ ☁️ blurted out, stopping Seonghwa.

“Hm?”

“Why’re you helping me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Why’re you doing this for me?”

“Because I like you, despite the “conversations” we’ve had in the past. And we’re not like our parents.”

☁️ nodded.

“Sleep well.” Seonghwa called out, turning the light off.

“Wait-“

Seonghwa turned the light back on, exhaling. “Yes?”

“Sleep in your bed.”

“I already told you I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then move over.”

☁️ scooted back toward the wall with the windows so that Seonghwa could sit in front of him. Seonghwa leaned over to turn the lamp off before pulling the covers over the two of them.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I worried about you a lot.” Seonghwa muttered, him then turning his body to face ☁️.

“Shouldn’t have.” ☁️ murmured in response.

“Well, I did.”

☁️ smiled. “Well, thanks for worrying.”

Seonghwa smiled back, grabbing ☁️’s hand from under the blanket. “Do you mind?”

“No.” ☁️ hummed before turning his body around. He scooted his body back to lie against Seonghwa’s. Grabbing the man’s hand and pulling it over his waist, then two now laid together a spooning position.

“Goodnight, ☁️.” Seonghwa whispered.

“Goodnight.”

a/n: genuinely can’t tell if my stories are good anymore 😄 hope u enjoyed tho! alsoooo gonna be a part 2- just to follow up and see how the reader and seonghwa build a relationship together while the reader is still under the other mob’s protection. def gonna be more fluff and character development in that one!! there can be ❄️ if u guys want it bad enough lol

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[misseviehyde]

MOVING IN

Jane was pretty pissed off when her fat, useless, lazy brother Morgan begged her to let him move in with her.

Mom and Dad had thrown him out again for his useless attitude and he had nowhere else to go.

Jane had always been soft and she agreed he could stay, even though she knew it would really piss off her husband Jason.

Jason was the only earner in the home. He was a successful business man and Jane had always wanted to be a stay at home wife and had nagged him into agreeing.

Jane told Morgan he could take the spare room and as predicted Jason exploded when he found out. After all now he had to support three people on his salary.

"That fucking useless brother of yours better be gone in a week. He's a parasite... a drain on society. I want him GONE. It's bad enough that you just sit around here living off me - but I refuse to support him too."

But two weeks later and Morgan was still there. Jason was becoming increasingly bad tempered and Jane begged her brother to do something.

"At least... get a job. There are medical trials in the paper... they pay well. Please do something to get Jason off my back."

Morgan sighed and wearily agreed to sign up to a well paid medical trial. He signed up over the phone and a few days later a bottle of pink pills turned up at the house.

Morgan had to take one pill a day and record the effects. The trial was well paid and Jack was satisfied when Morgan paid off some of the food bills he'd been running up.

"I still want that loser gone," he muttered - "but at least whilst we are stuck with him, he's earning his keep at last."

**********

The first change that Jane noticed about Morgan was the dramatic weight-loss. The pink pills seemed to have an immediate effect on his metabolism and within two days there was a noticeable difference.

Not only did weight start to slough off him, but he became more active. He began to rise earlier and even eat less. His body began to get slimmer and slimmer and a sudden interest in exercise only seemed to speed up the transformation.

The second thing she noticed was the effect on his health. Morgan's pale unhealthy skin began to take on a healthy glow and his acne cleared up. His lank, greasy hair seemed to thicken and become glossier. It grew at an astonishing rate and within a few days it had reached his shoulders. Blonde streaks now showed at the roots.

Surprisingly the three day old stubble he normally sported on his chin went completely. At first Jane thought he must be shaving it off - but after watching him for a few days - she realised it was just... gone.

Morgan was delighted with the changes... the pink pills were giving him a new lease of life and he was delighted when another bottle arrived and he was told to increase his dose to two pills a day.

His clothes barely fit him and so it was hard to tell under his baggy t-shirts and loose sweat pants - but there was something distrubing about his body shape.

The more Jane looked at her brother - the more she worried about the effect of the pills. His features seemed smoother, his skin silkier. His body hair seemed to have completely fallen out and there were curves to his hips and chest that she was sure didn't use to be there.

Her suspicions were confirmed one day when she came home to find Morgan in her gym clothes.

Jane's grey tracky bottoms fit his increased ass and wider hips perfectly and her gym top showed off his toned arms and abs. The plunging neckline of the top also revealed a growing well of cleavage.

Morgan's hair was now a dirty blonde colour half way down to his lower back and he seemed to have shrunk in height and mass. When Jane looked at him she saw a girl who looked a lot like her... only in some ways prettier.

"Morgan... those pills. You gotta stop taking them and you gotta get help. They're feminising you!"

Morgan shrugged, "Why would I do that? I've never felt better."

The door opened and Jason walked in. He did a double take as he saw Morgan.

"M... Morgan is that you? Holy shit, what the fuck have those pills done to you? How is this possible?"

Morgan giggled... he actually giggled and Jane suddenly noticed his voice was much lighter in pitch and tone. It sounded... feminine.

"I don't know but I'd say it's an improvement wouldn't you?"

Jane suddenly realised that Jason was looking at Morgan in a way he never had before. Approvingly. His hungry eyes were roaming up and down her brothers body. She felt a flood of jealousy and annoyance. Her brother had to go.

"Jason, he's still a useless freebooting loser. You were right. We should have kicked him out weeks ago. Pack your stuff Morgan."

"Wait!" cried Morgan in horror. "Please... I know I've been useless but thanks to these pills I'm changing. I can make everything up to you both."

"I'm not interested Morgan," Jane spat. "Jason and I want you out of this house!"

Morgan looked at Jason. His face took on a pleading expression. Soft pink lips twisted into a pout, big dark eyes fluttered enticingly. "IS that what you still want Jason?"

"No... wait... lets not be hasty," muttered Jason turning to look at Jane. "We can't just kick her out - not like this."

"Her?" asked Jane incredulously.

"Did I say that?" he scowled. "You know what I mean. Him I mean. We can't just throw him out... not like this."

They began to argue. Jane couldn't believe Jason had changed his mind. Morgan just stood looking at them, biting his lip like a naughty schoolgirl waiting to hear his fate.

"Fuck this... we'll make a decision later tonight," scowled Jason. "We need to calm down and think this over. I'm going to my office."

He turned and marched out and as Jane glared at Morgan and stormed up to her bedroom.

***********

Jane cried in her room for a few minutes. She expected Jason to come apologise, but when he didn't she decided she would go speak to him in his office.

Walking down the landing, she heard voices and pausing she listened at the door.

"Thank you for supporting me Jason, I can't believe my own sister has turned on me. I need you to protect me," came Morgan's voice.

"I already have a wife to look after, why should I look after you too?" snarled Jason's voice.

"Because Jason - you pay for this house and everything in it, but you don't get anything in return from her. No wonder you feel so angry. Your freeloading wife brings her freeloading brother here. She never gives you any attention and she just takes advantage of you. A guy like you deserves more. I'll find a way to give it to you if you let me stay. What do you want from me?"

"I... I just want you to make yourself useful. Stop being such a useless layabout and find a purpose in life. Those pills have made you fit and hot, you should use that to your advantage."

"Yes..." smiled Morgan. "Whatever you want."

Peering in through the crack in the door - Jane watched her feminised brother sinking to his knees in front of Jason.

"Wh... what the fuck are you doing?" he stammered as Morgan reached out and unzipped his fly.

"Making myself useful..."

Jason groaned as his dick sprang out. Jane's heart was beating and she thought she was going to scream as she watched her brother begin to pump her husbands dick.

"Don't you like this? I'm finally using my new body to my advantage."

Jane watched as Morgan leant down to her husbands stiffening dick and without any hesitation slid it into his mouth.

"Mmmppphhhhhh, *glug*"

Jason groaned in pleasure and his manly hands slid onto Morgan's blonde head and began to pump his head up and down on his rock hard cock.

"Yessssss suck my cock you little fucking slut. Fucking take it."

Saliva oozed out of the corner of Morgan's mouth and there were tears in the corner his eyes as he gagged and choked on dick. Glugging and moaning, his head bobbed up and down as he took the cock like a pro.

Jason was in heaven. Jane had never seen her husband so turned on. When she had sucked Jason's cock - it was nothing like this. It lacked this primal sexual energy.

"That's it you little fucking slut - you're my bitch now," groaned Jason in delight. "Keep making yourself useful and you can stay as long as you like. Ahhhhh I'm gonna fucking cum, take it all you slut."

Morgan's eyes widened and Jason's balls throbbed as he gasped and began to unload into his brother-in-laws mouth.

"Fucckkkkk if only your sister could suck cock like that," grinned Jason. "You're already better than her at that."

Morgan giggled, cum still leaking from the corner of his mouth. He swallowed happily.

"I was born to be a girl. Let me stay and I'll become better than her at EVERYTHING. I promise Daddy."

Jason shivered in delight. "Yesssss make yourself into my slut and you can stay as long as you like."

"Mmmmh, let me wash those pink pills down with your cum. I want this so badly."

Seeing the rapture in their faces Jane didn't know what to do. She should have burst inside raging almost ten minutes ago, but for some reason she had just stood and watched.

Worse... her pussy was wet and there was something kind of hot about watching her brother replace her.

Was she... enjoying this?

She went back to her room and fingered herself to orgasm as she cried. This was fucked up.

*************

Over the next week Morgan changed further. He had increased his dosage of the pink pills - but he also now embraced the transformation.

Jason stopped sleeping with Jane. Each night he would make some pathetic excuse so he and Morgan could be alone. Each night Jane would secretly watch as Morgan sucked Jason's cock and then she would get off to it.

One night as she watched, Morgan didn't sink to his knees as was usual. Instead he bent over the desk and flicked up his tiny skirt.

His tiny cock was caged in pink plastic and he spread his perfect tight asshole enticingly. In moments Jason was inside him, and the two of them moaned in joined pleasure as Morgan got fucked deep and hard.

Jason had truly made Morgan into his bitch.

Jane woke up one morning to hear banging next door in Morgan's room. She watched as he hauled out his old oversized clothes and replaced them with new female clothes.

She saw to her horror that Morgan had their credit card. Jason had obviously given it to her and he was now watching approvingly as his new slut filled her wardrobe with boots, miniskirts and crop tops.

The pills had almost finished their work now. Morgan's hair was now a bitchy blonde, his breasts were full and perfectly formed - every curve of his body was feminine perfection.

You would only have known he was a man because of the tiny micro-dick in those pretty panties.

And the fact that Morgan was a better woman and more attractive than Jane now just made her horny.

The couple had obviously realised she knew what was happening and once Jason knew that Jane wasn't going to object it was only a matter of time.

One morning at breakfast - Jason ordered Morgan to flip up his skirt. Moments later he was busy fucking the shit out of him whilst Jane watched helplessly.

"Your brother is finally of some use. He's my fuck-slut now," growled Jason as Morgan moaned and played with his tits as his Daddy fucked him in the ass.

"Mmmmmhhh too bad loser," giggled Morgan to Jane. "Your husband is mine now and I'm his obedient little whore."

The pink pills had turned her brother into a homewrecking bitch. Jane hated and worshipped her new sister in equal measure. She had discovered that nothing made her cum harder than watching her husband cheat on her.

It became natural to defer to Morgan. Her new sister began to become bossy and dominant in the home. Dressed in the most stylish outfits and looking like a Goddess - Morgan forced Jane to lick her boots and even eat Jason's cum out of her ass.

"Your useless lazy brother is gone," smirked Morgan as she played with her long blonde hair. "I'm your bitch of a sister now."

Jane was forced to watch as Jason moved Morgan into their master bedroom. Night after night she'd listen to them fuck next door - the pounding thuds and screams of ecstasy powering her own pleasure as she finger fucked her needy pussy.

She knew Jason would never fuck her again. She knew she was now a cuckquean and like some perverted bitch liked it. She knew she wasn't worthy to lick Morgan's boots.

Her sister had moved in - and there was no getting rid of her ever again...

[novankenn]

Four of a Kind... WHY stop there?

/== Master Post List ==/

Fiona Thyme was not having a good time. Robyn had asked for a volunteer to go to Vale to keep tabs on Ironwood and Atlas' military... which should be protecting Mantel and not some "academy pissing contest", as Robyn put it. Fiona stepped forward, and now she was wishing she hadn't.

The job was simple enough... it was just the crowds. They were just causing her so much stress. Yet here she was on a guided tour of Beacon. She had to admit, Beacon was a nice looking school. Much less utilitarian that Atlas. She had just about gotten over her nerves when she froze, there were two people standing very close to her. As she stood there she watched the tour group move further and further away.

????: You're adorable!

Fiona: Ex... excuse me?

????: Yes she is. Sister Weiss, do you think Sister Pyrrha would mind?

Fiona stepped away and turned to face whomever had gotten so close to her. She froze when she saw a pair of young woman, both in blue dresses, trimmed with golden thread. She easily recognized Weiss Schnee, but not her companion.

Fiona: Ex... excuse me? Who are you and what are you doing?

Weiss: My apologies. This is my Sister Ruby.

Ruby: Hello.

Fiona: Hello?

Weiss: What are you thoughts on... children?

Fiona: Ah... what?

Ruby: She and Jaune would make rather precious little ones, don't you think?

Weiss: I agree.

Fiona: What are you two...

As one Ruby and Weiss, moved in. Hooking their arms through Fiona's they started to walk, causing Fiona to stumble and fall in step with them.

Fiona: HEY!!! Let me go! What are you doing?

Ruby/ Weiss: You have been chosen. Come sister-to-be, join us in making a better world.

Fiona: HELP!

Fiona tried to struggle, but the pair of young woman holding her were much stronger than one would have thought just from looking at them. But what was worse was how even though she was screaming for help... EVERYONE just vanished... like literally took off running in the opposite direction.

Weiss: Sister Pyrrha!

Ruby: We have found an initiate!

Fiona's face paled as she saw someone anyone would recognize... Pyrrha Nikos, also wearing the same dress as Ruby and Weiss... but what was really troubling was the struggling form of a red haired cat faunus draped over Pyrrha's shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

Pyrrha: How wonderful! I have discovered one as well!

Ruby/ Weiss: The King Mother will be over joyed! Blessed be the grand-babies!

Pyrrha: Blessed be the grand-babies.

????: LET ME GO YOU PYSCHO!!! I"M NOT BECOMING SOME FEISTISH BREEDING BITCH FOR YOUR SICK GAMES!!!

Weiss: Sister Pyrrha, that language.

Pyrrha: Neon. Enough.

Neon: STUFF IT BI... *Smack!* ... EEP! You just slapped my ASS!

Pyrrha: Shall I spank you again?

Neon: No...

Pyrrha: Thank you. Now who is you initiate?

Fiona: Fi... Fiona Thyme.

Pyrrha / Weiss / Ruby: SO PRECIOUS!!!

Fiona blushed at the praise, and then grew scared again as the group was once again moving. But they approached a very ominous looking door, fear spiked in side her, and Neon. It jumped even further when the door opened and Professor Goodwitch, also wearing a blue dress trimmed with golden thread stepped out.

Neon/ Fiona : HELP US!!!!

Glynda: Sisters, welcome back. The King mother wishes for a conference after the evening meal.

Neon/ Fiona: Please! Please!

The door snapped shut with an ominous thud when all six figures stepped inside the room. Across the hall a pair of heads peeked out into the hall.

Yang: This is starting to get out of hand. We should do something... or warn someone...

Blake: Yang, honey... do you really want to go head to head with a group that has Pyrrha, Professor Goodwitch, Weiss, your sister Ruby, May Zednog, Arslan Atlan, Neo, and Jaune?

Yang: Not really... but we can't just not do something!

Blake: I'll tell you what we will do, my little Sundragon.

Yang: (Blushing) ...

Blake: We are going to keep you as far away from those nut-cases as possible. I am NOT loosing my blond.

Yang: Huh?

Blake: Yang, I love you... and we're moving to Menagerie. We'll live with my parents until we can get our own place.

Yang:.. you love me?

Blake: Yes, now call your dad, tell him your moving in with your girl-friend, I'll start packing.

Blake gives Yang a quick peck on the lips, and then flutters her eye lashes at her.

Yang: Okay.

/====/ A/N : Well I have been give more suggestions... so I'll see what I can do to keep this insanity going.

Thanks to @freshmiraclecheesecake for suggestion Neon Katt, and thanks to @allday2006 for the suggestion of Fiona Thyme. Also Thank you to @segmentaldragon for the list of "potential initiates"... let's see if I can get a few more of these out?

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[mellowyandere]

Erasermic “Just tell us what you like darling.”

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta, Yamada Hizashi 

Summary: You’d been stuck with the two pro heroes for a couple of weeks now but have yet to open up. Can’t you see they’re just curious?

Length: 4K

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, M/M/F, slight bondage, aphrodisiac, oral sex, vaginal sex, slight praise kink.

You sat curled up on the far end of the couch, eyes glazed over as you watched the TV in front of you. A half-baked sad excuse of a porno disguised as a movie was playing. The plot was flimsy at best and you couldn't care less, but movie nights weren’t optional.

Hizashi and Shouta were cuddled up closer to the middle of the couch than you’d prefer. You could feel their eyes flickering between you and the shitty movie. Currently the female lead was bent over the male leads extravagant kitchen counter getting railed out of her mind. Her wanton moaning was starting to get on your nerves.

“Soooo.” the blond broke the silence. You peered over at him and couldn't help but roll your eyes as he waggled his eyebrows. “What kinda stuff you into baby girl?” With the degrading quality in movie’s Hizashi had been picking for the three of you to watch you had a feeling he was up to something.

“Not whatever this is...” Shouta snorted at your response, pulling Hizashi closer to keep him from migrating over to you. The dark-haired man was fully aware you were on edge, still not having settled into your new life yet. His boisterous partner on the other hand was dying to get to you, his patience much shorter than his sleepy counterpart.

“Aww I thought you’d enjoy this one! I mean she sure looks like she’s enjoying it. Ever been fucked over a counter?”

You couldn't help but choke a bit at his question. The man had been getting more and more pointed in his attempts to unravel your sexual escapades and desires. “I-It’s hardly any of your business!”

“Come on babe no need to be so shy! Sho and I are here for yah, whatever you want or need we can give!”

You felt your blood boil a bit at his proclamation. The fucking nerve this man had to say you could have whatever you want after kidnapping you.

Shouta noticed your face scrunching up with anger. Hizashi noticed too, but was so desperate for something besides your passive aggressive moping he'd take anything.

But you weren’t interested in giving them any reason to punish you, so instead you quietly stood up from the couch.

“I have a headache so I’m going to go lay down. Don’t bother me.” You hesitated for a second. “Please.” Within your two weeks here you had learned manners got you pretty far with Shouta, allowing you to push the boundary between rude and polite.

Peeking over at the two you saw Hizashi struggling to sit up, but Shouta held fast, pulling him close and murmuring something in his ear. The blond frowned, sharp green eyes narrowing in your direction, but he relaxed into his partner.

“Take it easy kitten. Let us know if you need anything.” You cringed at the sleepy pro’s pet name but took the chance to leave before they changed their minds.

-----

“I told you those shitty movies weren’t going to work.”

“Yah never know Sho, I thought maybe she’d see us all cuddled up like love birds and want to join after watching something steamy! Not my fault she’s so damn shy.” Hizashi was pouting now.

Shouta hated to see the normally, annoyingly, enthusiastic voice hero like this. Thankfully he had been mentally working on a plan for a while now. Your problem was not only were you shy, but you were so self-conscious you lacked the courage to ask them what you wanted. It was on him to work it out of you. The issue was getting you in the right mood. He knew it would take months before you came around, and if it was just him that would be perfectly fine.

But his sulking partner wasn't going to last that long, and he’d end up doing something to push you further away from them. No, they were going to have to get you to come onto them. What he had in mind made his gut churn a bit in guilt, but if it worked then it would all be worth it.

“Hizashi stop whining. I have a plan to help get her out of her shell.” Hizashi sprang up, emerald eyes wide in delight. “Oh oh, tell me tell me!”

Shouta smiled softly at how fast the man could bounce back. “I had a feeling we were going to need a bit more than movies to encourage her so I had Kayama get me an aphrodisiac. She has troublesome pets of her own so she was more than happy to help out.”

Hizashi was practically vibrating with excitement now. It took everything in him to not shout out in joy. “You’re a genius! So when do we give it to her, now? Tonight? The sooner the bet-”

“No. Not right now,” Shouta cut him off.

“We need to give her some time to settle down, cut it with the pornos, and use it when she least expects it. I’ll decide when the time is right, and let you know once it’s all set up. Can’t have you giving the surprise away now can I.” With that the dark-haired hero pulled Hizashi closer to him for a gentle kiss. “Just be patient Zashi and she’ll be ours willingly.”

----

It had been a little over a week since Hizashi had stopped forcing you to watch those raunchy movies. He still insisted every now and again to watch something, even asking for your own input. He had also thankfully stepped back a bit on the sexual comments and you almost felt comfortable near him.

Tonight, was yet again movie night. Hizashi was already hunkered down on the couch a warm cup of tea clutched in his hands. Shouta silently slunk in from the kitchen, he always managed to spook you with how quietly he moved.

“Here kitten,” he handed you a hot cup of tea and plopped down in between you and the blond. He opened his arms and gestured to you with a questioning eyebrow but you simply mumbled out your thanks for the tea and turned to the tv.

“Alright babes it's show time!” With that Hizashi started the movie and another uneventful night began. You sipped slowly on your tea, it was a bit hot but it felt nice in the cold house.

About thirty minutes into the movie you began to feel a bit... odd. Did you have a fever? You wiggled a bit to try and get comfortable but the burning in your gut only seemed to increase. Something wasn't right, but you couldn’t figure out what.

“You doing alright there kitten?” Shouta questioned while shuffling closer to you. He reached his hand out and gently placed it on your thigh, deep obsidian eyes glinting with amusement.

You yelped, jumping a bit as his large hand made contact with your clothed leg. Even through the fabric he was so warm, and arousal pooled in your stomach. What the fuck was going on? You jumped up, his hand falling to the soft cushion.

“A-ah I’m fine! I don’t feel so good um so... I’m gonna go rest!” You bolted, Hizashi whining in complaint as you took off. “What’s her deal,” he grumbled in annoyance. He glanced over at Shouta and suddenly it dawned on him. The cheeky smirk on the dark pro’s face giving him away.

“Come on Zashi. We’re going to follow her tonight.”

Hizashi shot up in excitement at his partners’ proclamation. A grin that showed just a bit too many teeth splitting his face in half.

“Might need this though,” Shouta murmured as he grabbed his capture weapon.

Heading upstairs the two pros found your bedroom door closed, but due to the lack of a lock it didn't stand as much of a barrier. Hizashi rushed to swing the door wide open, ready to charge in, but was halted by Shouta. “Slow it down we’ve got all night. Don’t want to spook her,” he whispered.

The blond shot him a wink “Aight aight my b,” he whispered back.

You shot up in bed when the door was forcefully thrown open, a familiar pair of green eyes locking onto you. “You doin’ alright there baby girl? I mean I know runnin’ off ain’t too weird for yah but you’ve been so good these past couple days.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled out. You were in fact not fine. You felt like your body was on fire, and your cunt was aching. Hizashi bounded over, jumping up on the bed and shuffling closer to you. You curled up on yourself, body pressed against the headboard. “Pl-please stop.”

“Aww Sho she’s so damn shy, ain’t she just the cutest thing?”

“Mhmm, the cutest.” Shouta wandered into the room, capture weapon in hand. Why did he have that?

“We’ll finish the movie in here. That way you can continue to rest.” The dark-haired pro turned the tv on in your room and crawled into bed, remote in one hand, weapon in the other. “And so you don’t try to avoid watching the movie...” With that his weapon slowly unraveled, metal alloy winding around your wrists and securing them up above you on the headboard.

“Whoa hey what are you doing! I-I’ll watch the movie I promise!” Shouta planted himself firmly on your right, while Hizashi cuddled up on your left. “Nu-uh baby girl you’ve been dodging movie night! Can’t take any chances now!” Two different hands took up residence on each thigh, Shouta’s gently rubbing circles into your skin while Hizashi’s squeezed and rubbed with a little more force. You had changed into shorts to try and help with how hot you felt, but now you were regretting your decision.

It was torture. Their hands sending tingles of electricity straight to your wet pussy and hardening nipples. You bit back a moan as Hizashi’s hand began to trail further between your thighs so he could get a better grip on the soft skin. If they noticed your uncomfortable squirming they didn't say anything about it. Opting to watch the movie while you grew more and more aroused.

This was ridiculous, you’ve never felt so turned on in your whole life! You held your tongue for fear of letting a moan slip out of your mouth.

A text notification went off to your right. Shouta heaved a sigh as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, but quickly chuckled in amusement upon opening the message.

“What’s up Sho?” Hizashi leaned in closer to you, hand moving upwards, gently bumping up against your clothed sex. In turn Shouta extended his hand towards his partner, knuckles brushing across your sensitive nipple.

You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that passed your lips.

In a fraction of a second two set of sharp eyes darted to you. You hung your head in shame as heat flooded your cheeks.

“What was that baby doll? Someone feelin’ a lil frisky?” The blonds quirk picked up a bit at the end of his sentence and rumbled through your body.

“N-no!” What was with you stuttering? You needed to assert yourself! You felt completely out of control of your own body.

“Oh reallyyy?” With that Hizashi bumped his knuckle up against your clit. You bucked your hips into his hand and let out a pathetic mewl.

“Zashi leave her alone,” Shouta chided the man. You looked over to him, thankful he was always the voice of reason, to feel relief replaced by fear as you saw the predatory glint in his eyes. “Come on now, Kayama sent us a cute little outfit we should buy for our kitten,” as he spoke his hand clutching the phone continued to rub against your perky bud.

The fire in your gut was getting worse, your head felt like it was spinning. Did they.. did they do something to you? Your brain couldn't block out the image of Hizashi’s slender fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt fast enough and you clenched down on nothing in response. You felt so empty.

“Please!”

“Please stop? Or do you mean please keep going baby girl?” At this point you didn’t know which one it was either. You wanted them to stop, to leave you alone. But at the same time, you needed something. You needed them.

But they made the decision for you. Pulling away both men placed their hands back into their own laps, pants a little more tented than they were a moment ago. “We wouldn't want to do anything without your permission kitten,” the dark hair hero stated as you whined at the loss of contact. Oh so they chose now to be decent human beings?

They were doing this on purpose. You felt your eyes sting a bit as tears threatened to form. Fine if they wanted to play a stupid game you'd play. Raising your head you glared at the tv, hell-bent on not giving them the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

You lasted about fifteen minutes before the burning sensation in your core went from uncomfortably aroused to painful. You wriggled about, desperate to try and generate some friction. You no longer cared that Shouta and Hizashi had turned their attention to you with quirked eyebrows and amused smiles. How fucking patronizing.

“Just say the word baby girl and Sho an’ I can help yah.” Tears were openly falling down your face now as you sniffled miserably. “Pl-please..” you whispered, shame flooding through you.

“Not good enough.” You growled in frustration at Shouta’s dismissal. “If you want help kitten, you’re going to have to tell us exactly what you want.”

You threw your head back in frustration against the headboard. You couldn’t last much longer, they were leaving you with no choice.

It took about three more minutes of them ignoring you before you couldn’t do it anymore. Little sobs racked your body at the intense heat that was pumping through your veins.

“Please!” You cried out. And then the flood gate of promises burst forwards as you tried to tempt them into saving you. “I-I’ll be your good girl. I’ll let you tie me up, dress me up, pin me down, kiss me when you want, hold me during movie nights...” you started off tame working your way to more and more explicit promises.

“I’ll warm your cocks while you grade papers, o-or suck you off, let you fuck me while I’m asleep, anything, everything! Ple-please help me I need you to.. to fuck me please.” To say the men were pleased was an understatement. They had been expecting something, but were blown away with your confessions, each one spiraling into deeper and darker desires. You deserved a reward, now didn't you?

You kept rambling, little hiccups shaking your body while you cried causing you to stutter. You had been so busy trying to figure out what they wanted you to say that you failed to notice your now free hands. Only when Shouta slid behind you did you realize the situation you were in.

Both men had stripped themselves of their remaining clothes, and made quick work of peeling off your damp shirt and drenched panties. Hizashi hunkered down between your thighs. “That wasn’t so hard now was it baby girl? Aww Sho she’s absolutely dripping.” He threw your legs over his shoulders and his hot breath fanned out against your aching cunt.

You barely registered the words he said, opting instead to buck your hips towards his lopsided grin. “Easy now kitten, we’re here don’t worry,” Shouta murmured low into your ear. Gently he bit down on your earlobe while he hands came up and began to work on your tender breasts. His solid cock was flush with your lower back, gently throbbing as you wiggled for Hizashi’s attention.

“See now ain’t it just so much better when you tell us what you want.”

“Don’t torture her Zashi come on now, she’s waited long enough.”

The man barked a laugh before delving right in, not wasting a second more. His eager tongue delved between your delicate folds, working its way up and down. You threw your head back against Shouta’s shoulder, crying out in relief and pleasure. It wasn't enough, but fuck it was something, and he was good at it.

Shouta’s fingers pinched and rolled your nipples while Hizashi began to experiment with delving his tongue deeper inside, nose brushing up against your clit. Your hands wrapped around Shouta’s wrists as you attempted to ground yourself. You had only just begun and you could already feel your oncoming orgasm, your walls desperately clenching down on the blondes skilled tongue. You had been denied for so long it would only take a little bit more.

He hummed in satisfaction as he felt you getting close, quirk sending vibrations straight to your core and you snapped. You closed your eyes as your hips bucked up against his face. He held fast, hands digging into your thighs as he eagerly lapped you up. You moaned without restraint, Shouta’s lips flush against your neck as he nipped and sucked marks into your skin.

When you finally stopped squirming Hizashi pulled away with a cheeky grin, mouth glistening with your arousal. “Fuck baby girl you already finished?” No, it wasn't enough. You needed more!

“Please, I need more..I..” “Shh don’t worry kitten, we know what you need.” The blond leaned forwards and locked lips with his black-haired partner behind you. Shouta groaned into his mouth, cock throbbing eagerly against your back. From here you could see the blondes cock as well. He had an impressive length, red tip dripping pre-cum as it flexed with his arousal.

With a free hand you reached out and gripped his enticing member, earning a surprised moan from the hero. He pulled back looking down at you with lust clouded eyes. “As much as I want to fuck you until you sing, it’s Sho’s turn. Mm but shit do those small hands of yours look good wrapped around me.” He gave an experimental thrust of his hips into your grip before pulling away. Shouta began to move as well, swapping places with the blonde. You were flipped around, Hizashi crawling under you while Shouta pulled you up and back so you were on all fours.

“I could get used to a view like this,” Shouta said with satisfaction. The blond couldn't agree more, after all he was about to get a front row seat to his partner fucking you silly. His greedy hands came up and gripped the back of your head, pulling your face down for a deep kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn't care.

With your head pulled down your ass was arched up and Shouta couldn't help but give it an experimental slap. You yelped in pain, wriggling forwards out of his grip. “Sorry kitten I just couldn’t help myself. Your ass is just so perfect.” He kneaded the sore flesh affectionately as an apology.

The burning in your core had returned full force from what little Hizashi had done earlier to ease it, and you once again found yourself rocking your hips back against the dark haired hero. With his cock in hand he began to teasingly run it up and down your sopping cunt. Not this again.

You cried out into Hizashi’s mouth attempting to pull away from him in order to force the man behind you to fuck you, but both men held your firmly in place. Shouta took a moment longer to enjoy how needy you were before giving you what you wanted, the head of his cock slowly breaching your tight walls.

Your cries of frustration turned into cries of pleasure and Hizashi ate them up. Shouta began to gently pump himself into you. The aphrodisiac and Hizashi’s prepping making you wet enough he could slam into you if he wanted, but he needed to take his time. After all this wasn’t about him, it was about you. Showing you just what he and his partner could give you, how well they could provide for your every need.

Below you Hizashi took his own cock into his hand and broke off the kiss, pumping into his fist at the same excruciatingly slow pace Shouta was fucking you. He watched the pleasure consume you, eyes twisted shut as you took his partners cock like the perfect little girl you were. As Shouta began to pick up his pace, not only did Hizashi match it, he got the pleasure of watching your tits bounce in rhythm to the sturdy hips snapping against your ass. He could die right here a very happy man.

You were babbling now that your mouth was no longer consumed by the blond hero, pleas and mewls spilling forth as you allowed the men to alleviate the burning inside you. “You’re just so fucking cute ain’t you, shit I hope you’re still needy when Sho’s done cause fuck do I want to feel that perfect lil pussy of yours.” Speaking of, the man behind you let out a groan as you clenched down on him hard when he hit a particular spot inside you, velvety walls trying to milk him for all he was worth.

“She’s so fucking tight, so perfect. Shit, I think she’s going to cum again.” Shouta leaned down, muscular chest flush against your back as he wrapped his arm around you, hand reaching between your legs to stimulate your neglected clit. You bucked back into him at the sudden sensation. Hizashi’s free hand reached up and began to tweak your left nipple, desperate to see what your face looked like when you came undone on top of him.

The conjoined efforts of the two men sent you once again over the edge, face contorting in pleasure as your walls fluttered around Shouta’s cock. Moans and whimpers tumbled from your mouth. Shouta’s hips began to stutter a bit at the sensation of your walls clamping down on him, quickly approaching his own climax.

He began to slam into you, his thick member forcing itself deep within with each snap of his hips. With his chest flush against you, and arms tightly holding you in place he finally stilled. Groans of pleasure fell from his mouth as he pumped his hot cum into you, the remedy for the aphrodisiac bringing you immediate relief. Holding your exhausted body off of Hizashi, Shouta kept you plugged with his cock in order to undo the aphrodisiac as best he could.

The sight of both of you finishing above the blond was beyond a dream come true. He had been helping himself along this entire time and couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Fuck do I wish I had a camera both my babes cumming one after the other I’m on cloud fuckin’ nine! Prop her up and slide out for me baby, it’s my turn to help cool down our girl.”

With a grunt the dark-haired pro sat up, continuing to press you firmly to him. His cock slowly slid out and his cum immediately began to run down your thighs. He maneuvered you so you were sitting over Hizashi’s waiting cock before lowering you down.

You whined at the feeling of the slimmer man entering you. Shouta had him in girth, but Hizashi won when it came to length.

“There you go baby girl, shit! You weren’t lying Sho she’s so tight I don’t think I’m gonna last that long.”

Quickly the blond began to snap his hips up into your limp body, only upright thanks to the man behind you. Words of praise tumbled from the blond as he fucked up into you. True to his word he didn’t last much longer, the entirety of the night catching up to him as he began to cum inside you. Unlike Shouta he continued fucking his seed into you until he finally stilled.

You were absolutely spent, and a complete mess.

“Seems we made a mess in your bed kitten, you can sleep with Hizashi and I until we wash your sheets.” He began to pull you up off the satisfied hero below you, his length slipping out, causing even more cum to run down your thighs and onto the blond’s lap. Not that he minded.

“Lets get all cleaned up babes and ready for bed!” You were too tired to protest, relaxing in Shouta’s arms. Come tomorrow you had a lot to think about regarding what happened. But for now, with your body no longer burning, a warm shower sounded like heaven.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence. 

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.” 

Ao3 Link: Here 

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here 

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return. 

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks. 

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo. 

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.” 

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew: 

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious. 

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him. 

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…” 

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat. 

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove. 

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.” 

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—” 

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.” 

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.” 

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—” 

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.” 

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs. 

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk. 

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did. 

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue. 

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—” 

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.” 

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—” 

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.” 

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses. 

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.” 

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot. 

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him. 

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.” 

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached. 

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.” 

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore. 

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure. 

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.” 

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head. 

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do. 

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations? 

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability. 

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position. 

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.” 

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.” 

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!” 

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.” 

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova. 

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.” 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current. 

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out. 

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies. 

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight. 

He needed a fucking drink. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs. 

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy. 

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets. 

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools. 

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb. 

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again. 

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more. 

Except… he’d been standing still that time. 

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet. 

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving. 

“What the fu—” 

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later. 

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs. 

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face. 

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots. 

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth. 

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight. 

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue. 

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky. 

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way. 

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them. 

Dynamight was here to get the job done. 

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head. 

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc. 

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him. 

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet. 

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god. 

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch. 

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him. 

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought. 

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze. 

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar. 

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals. 

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again. 

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air. 

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window. 

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then… 

Nothing. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time. 

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes. 

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop. 

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat. 

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place. 

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way. 

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to. 

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled. 

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business. 

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia. 

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite. 

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least. 

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers. 

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst. 

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things. 

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself. 

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps. 

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself. 

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good. 

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet. 

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help. 

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful. 

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful. 

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own. 

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone. 

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train. 

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you. 

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.” 

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief. 

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.” 

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts. 

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking. 

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away. 

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out. 

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments. 

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes. 

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor. 

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass. 

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms. 

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms. 

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash? 

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs. 

That sounded… closer. 

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky. 

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals. 

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person. 

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth. 

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack. 

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down. 

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air. 

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air. 

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached. 

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street. 

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill. 

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed. 

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it. 

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later. 

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames. 

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene. 

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him. 

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped. 

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window. 

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

[fandom-imagines]

Sweet little darling~

Fandom: House of Wax (2005)

Pairing: Bo Sinclair X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, domestic abuse (abusive relationship; not Bo) Kind of out-of-character Bo, depends on how you headcanon him for liking someone! Also not proofread yet.

Words: 2.55k 

Summary: Kindness can get you killed, but it can also get you out of a sticky situation.

Part Two!

To anybody that saw their relationship, it was evident that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Perhaps it once had been, but it no longer was, and for good reason.

“You fucking bitch!” The scream echoed throughout the building, one body looming over a small, cowering young woman.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, doing her best to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.  “Please don’t hurt m-“ her pleas were cut short as a tight hand grasped her arm and tugged her onto her feet, a harsh slap hitting her cheek shortly afterwards.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he cruelly laughed, mimicking her frightened and desperate tone. “How pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,”

With one final laugh, her boyfriend tossed her to the ground.

*

Laughter filled the truck the group of friends were currently seated in, music blaring through the speakers of a radio one of them had brought but their drunk selves were unable to remember who.

Four of the friends engaged in conversation about anything their clouded minds could think of, whilst the final friend lay against the side of the car, desperately avoiding the demanding gaze her boyfriend was giving her and had been giving her the entire night.

It was clear what he wanted.

Eyes fixated on the green of the grass beneath her, Y/N noticed an approaching truck. Choosing not to say anything, she silently waited for somebody else to notice the vehicle.

“Guys,” Lucy, a close friend of Y/N’s boyfriends, called. “Who is that?”

By now the headlights of the truck were focused on the gang who were circled around the campfire, narrowly avoiding Y/N’s figure.

“James, do something?” Y/N winced as she watched another of the girls grasp onto her boyfriends muscular arm, her blonde hair rubbing against his bare chest.

“Can we help you?” He yelled over the sound of the roaring engine, their music having been paused the second they had notice the driver. “Look dude, this isn’t funny. Just fuck off!”

James’s final sentence was one that made his girlfriend cringe, body remembering the way he had hurt her the night before using that exact same tone; it almost made her cry.

Deciding to stop him before this escalated any further, Y/N made her way towards James before placing a hand on his chest to signal him to back down. This seemed to only anger him further, something that was clear by the way his hands balled into fists. Nobody noticed, except one other person.

“Leave it,” she whispered into his ear, hand dropping from his body to hopefully ease his anger.

James’s hand reach out to her, grabbing his own with a bruising force and tugging her into him as he leaned down to her ear, ignoring the whistles from his friends who assumed he was saying something sexual.

“Just you wait till I get you alone,” James snarled in her ear, unaware of the way an unknown man glared at him before driving away.

*

“Are you fucking kidding me?” James spat, smashing his hand against the cars hood. “It’s busted, the fan belt is fucked.”

His anger seemed to put everybody on edge as they all fell into an uncomfortable silence, something that was uncommon for them.

“You needed a new one anyway,” Y/N mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t you fucking start,” while his words were directed towards his girlfriend, the others assumed it was aimed at the car in sarcasm; ignorance is bliss after all.

“I can help y’all.” A seemingly kind voice yelled from behind them, having heard the entire conversation. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear ya. There’s a town not to far from here. A guy, Bo, runs a gas stop, I’m sure he’d have some.”

Before James could rudely decline this man, Y/N decided to respond. “Do you know how to get there?”

“I’ll drive ya! Truck can only fit two of you though,”

“That’d be great!” She gave the unnamed man a gentle smile, one which he gladly returned. “When are you ready?”

“Now is good,”

She simply nodded, rushing towards the car without giving James a chance to say anything, only leaving him time to follow her, but not before a “fuck sake,” left his lips.

*

“Thank you so much, Lester!” She grinned once again as she hopped from his truck.

“It was no bother, pleasure to meet you Y/N,” he smiled back at her, ruffling her hair slightly before realising the angered look on James’s face. “And you of course,” he nodded awkwardly whilst his hand dropped back to his side. “You two take care now,” and with those words, he drove away.

“Fucking slutting yourself out to weird men, typical,” James spat as he tugged Y/N’s hand so that she was following him into the town, ignoring how she almost tripped in the process.

“I’m sorry, I was just being nice. He was helping us!” She all but yelled, silently praying for him to loosen his grip so that she doesn’t have to use all of her concealer hiding, yet another, mark from him.

“Sure he was. He didn’t just want to get into your pants or anything, huh?”

Ignoring his hurtful words, Y/N began to look around the town.

It was quiet, too quiet. But when she began to think, it was Sunday and there was a Church up ahead at the end of the road which would make more sense, especially considering how early in the morning it was.

“There’s the garage,” James said, dropping her hand to instead point at the small garage not far from them. “Let’s go,”

Y/N followed him, quickly striding to keep up with his large legs.

“There’s nobody here,” she sighed, watching as James just barged his way into the unoccupied garage. “You can’t just go in there! That’s rude.”

“Do I give a fuck? Wait out there for all I care,”

So she chose to do just that.

*

“Oh, hi!” A tall man in a suit gave Y/N a bright grin, accidentally startling her slightly. “You need something?”

“O-oh, hi! Uhm, my boyfriend is in there, I’m sorry I told him not too, he needs a fan belt? I have no idea what one of them is but I-“

The man chuckled, smiling once again as he put his arm around her waist to guide her inside. “Don’t worry, darling. I got ya,” his words were somewhat calming, as though he was offering to protect her from James, despite not knowing what was going on, or perhaps he did.

“You finally grew a p-“James’s words fell short as he turned to see a man, who was significantly taller than him, stood beside his girlfriend. “Hello?”

“Hi, names Bo,” Bo’s tone was a lot blunter than the charming one he had been using previously. “You need something?” He repeated his previous words, instead this time to James and less kind. “You are in my garage after all.”

Despite knowing that Bo could easily subdue him, James chose to get angry anyway. “You got a problem with me? Don’t leave it unlocked if you don’t want people coming in,”

“James leave it,” Y/N gently pushed herself between Bo and James as James began to try get into his face. “Just ask him for what you need and let’s go.”

“Fine, we need a fan belt. Fifteen inch.”

“I might be able to do that, but you’ve already had a look so let me know what I’ve got,” Bo smirked at the angered expression on the mans face at his words.

So maybe he did have a problem with James, a problem neither of the couple knew of.

“Not a fifteen,”

“Then they’re back at the house,”

“The house? Why would they be there?”

“Deliveries are delivered there, easier for everyone really.”

Y/N watched as the two men interacted, Bo incredibly calm whilst James was boiling with anger. Part of her was scared of how he would react, his threat about ‘waiting till they’re alone’ floating around in her mind, yet some strange part of her felt safe knowing that Bo was there. Perhaps it was the fact that he could fight him with ease, or maybe that James would, most likely, never harm her in front of another person.

“Let’s just go,” She pleaded, desperation swimming in her Y/E/C orbs.

“No, I’ll stay, you go.” James seemed pleased with this idea, smirking at the way his girlfriends body tensed; he enjoyed the fear he caused her.

“That’s fine with me,” Bo chimed in, offering Y/N a smile. “That fine with you?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

“Let me just lock up,” Bo said, leading the visitors out into the street, much to James’s dismay, before locking up. “Let’s go then.” He gave James one last sarcastic smile before leading Y/N away from him.

*

“Do you live with anyone here?”

Y/N and Bo had been talking for a while now, having chosen to take a slow walk instead. He was nice, to her anyway. She felt as though he understood her, despite not knowing a thing about her.

“Nah, I live with my brother,” Came his response, winking at the girl as he ran a hand through his dark hair, enjoying the way she blushed under his gaze.

She knew it was wrong, finding him both attractive and sweet. But he was both of those, and James was neither, not to her at least. Maybe it was because he was the first person to be this kind to her in a long time, or maybe it was the feeling of safety she felt around him, but she was enjoying his company more than anyone else’s.

“Oh, that must be fun!”

Bo chuckled at her enthusiasm, “I suppose so,”

The pair walked up to Bo’s home, guilt filling the girl’s chest each time she let Bo’s hand brush against her own. She simply enjoyed the sparks flying throughout her body, forgetting about the pain she would receive later as a punishment.

“We’re here,” Bo’s words pulled Y/N from her thoughts, almost tripping over a rock as she came back to reality. “Easy there,” Bo shook his head whilst smiling as he caught her, sneakily pulling her body into his own without her realising it was not an accident.

“Thank you,” she blushed, unknowingly allowing herself to melt into his touch, feeling the need to savour every kind and gentle touch she was getting from a stranger.

“No problem, darling,” he smirked, once again enjoying the way she blushed at the nickname he had given her.

Hand still around her waist, Bo guided her into his home.

“Take a seat, I need to get out of this horrible suit.” His words caused a giggle to leave Y/N’s lips, her head nodding as she took a seat on the faded leather couch, watching Bo leave the room to go change.

*

“Sorry to keep ya waiting, Darl.” Bo’s voice startled Y/N, her body jolting in a way that made Bo feel slightly guilty, something that he rarely felt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault,” she offered him a weak smile, twiddling with the hem of her short-sleeved t-shirt when he seated himself beside her.

“That looks painful,” his hands cautiously reached out to gently take her hand, fingers lightly running across a hand-shaped bruise that had began to form. “You shouldn’t let him treat you like that,” Bo’s spare hand reached up to her face, hand cupping one cheek which made her flinch, Bo frowning at the action.

“S-sorry,”  

Bo had no idea why she was apolgoising to him. It had been him that touched her, but it all made sense in his head.

“Does he hit you?”

Her lack of response was enough for him to understand to full situation.

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be, darling.” He sighed, hand moving from her cheek to her neck to pull her head towards his lips, planting a soft kiss on it, something that made her almost cry along with his sweet words.

“Thank you,” her own arms wrapped around his torso, grateful to be given affection without it feeling forced.

*

“You took your time,” James spat as Y/N walked towards him, Bo having quickly headed to the gas station for something that she couldn’t remember the name of. “Were you shagging him or something?”

“N-no,” the nervousness in her voice was something that caused Y/N to cringe, knowing that he wouldn’t believe her.

“Oh, you were.” James’s hands balled into fists as he stalked towards her, ready to attack.

“No, I had to get changed,” Bo’s deep voice startled both of them, James’s fists unclenching immediately.

“Sorry, man. Can’t be too careful with girls like these, can you?” He laughed, trying to play off his previous words as a joke.

“Can’t be too careful with men like yourself either, can you?” Bo’s words seemed innocent, despite having a deeper meaning.

“What?” James snapped. “You told him about us?” He yelled as he turned to face Y/N whose breathing was becoming laboured in fear. “You little bitch!”

As James began to march towards his girlfriend, a tight hand grabbed his fist, spinning him to face the holder only to not be able to see because of a hard punch hitting him in the jaw. The only thing he could hear was a gasp from Y/N and the ringing in his ears as he dropped to the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Bo sniggered. “You can hit a woman but the second a man touches you, you’re out cold. Pathetic,”

Y/N stood frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react.

She hadn’t expected Bo to attack him. In fact, she hadn’t expected him to do anything at all to him or about her situation. Those who knew didn’t care, so why would a stranger?

“You fucking dick!” James screamed, climbing back onto his feet to throw a punch at Bo, one that he barely reacted to.

“Leave him alone!” Y/N yelled, darting between James and Bo, shoving James away from him to the best of her ability.

“You fucking whore. I should’ve known this is what would’ve happened. Actually, I guess I already did.” His words were fast, but his fist moved towards her faster.

Bo was quicker however, grabbing the man’s fist and twisting it behind his back before kicking his legs from beneath him, effectively knocking him to the ground again.

“Vincent!” Bo yelled. “Got one for ya,” both Y/N and James were confused at his words, fear filling them both as a masked man came running out into the street, knife in hand.

Bo took Y/N’s hand, pushing her behind his hand so that she couldn’t see the horror that Vincent was committing to her boyfriend in full glory.

“Y-you killed him…” Her words were quiet, watching from one eye as the man, who she assumed to be Vincent, tugged away the lifeless body. “Are you going to kill me too?”

“You’re safe here, Y/N.” Bo’s words were quiet, praying nobody else heard his true self speaking. “I’ll take care of you. Nobody will ever hurt you again, my sweet little darling.”  

[jincherie]

say so | knj & ksj [m]

! —  COMMISSION  — !

❥ — pairing: namjoon x reader x seokjin ❥ — genre: poly, 1950s au/rockabilly au, smut, childhood f2l, angst, fluff, musician!namjin, burlesque!mc ❥ — words: 24.5k+ ❥ — rating: 18+ ❥ — warnings: light angst, pining, smut !!!; oral (all kinds), anal, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, edging, light switch!joon, light switch!oc, harder dom!jin, double pentration, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl etc.... if I forgot sometihng I will add it later but for now this is it fellas. ❥ — notes: oh my god I am FINALLY ejecting this fic from my brain !!! part of the reason this took so long was, of course, the current circamstances across the world mixed in with a few personal factors, but also because I haven’t written a ‘historical’ fic before and I wanted to make sure I got it right ! of course, that somehow ended with me going way over word count so i am so sorry for that, but i truly hope you like it! I haven’t gone over it yet but i will do that later, i just wanted to post and get this fic out of my asshole

Returning to your hometown for a week is something you’ve managed to avoid for three years, but when you can finally put it off no longer you find upon arrival the very thing you were scared of encountering. When the two famous childhood friends you haven’t spoken to in years have returned at the same time as you, you can’t quite tell whether you’re going to be able to make it out in one piece or emerge with a heart more wounded than before.

Especially since it turns out the feelings you thought you were over never quite went away.

— masterlist |  posted; 17.08.2020

You didn’t really expect to find yourself back here so soon, but here you are— everything in your room is in exactly the same state as it was three years ago.

The covers on your bed, the magazine cuttings, faded posters and hand-painted canvases that mark the phases of your youth hung on your wall—even the light-toned floral wallpaper and the little knickknacks atop your dresser are the same. It makes something like nostalgia rise within you, a reminiscent haze filtering through your thoughts. It has been too long since you’ve been back here, and the guilt that always lingers in the back of your mind now pushes its way to the forefront. You feel bad, not having been back to your childhood home in so long, despite the reasons you had for moving away.

You haven’t been here all that long, but as soon as you finished talking with your parents downstairs your feet had carried you here, more out of habit that anything. Absentmindedly, you brush your hand over the oak of your dresser, curious when your fingertip comes back without a single speck of dust. Your mother must have come through often to clean. The realisation both warms your heart and compounds the guilt you feel, making you frown.  In an effort to distract yourself, you turn your gaze back to the rest of your old room, catching sight of a few photographs plastered above your study desk. You know what they contain, and still you can’t seem to help yourself as you draw closer and peer at them anew. They’re just as familiar to your eyes as you expected.

Of course, in this house you’d be lucky to find a photograph of you that didn’t also have these two in it. 

Your eyes skip over the older ones with yellowing glaze and curled corners to focus on the most recent-looking image, drinking in the two boys you’d spent the entirety of your childhood and teen years with. Easily your best friends, until… well, until three  years ago. A fond smile fights its way to your lips; you remember when this was taken. Your mother had lined the three of you up for a photo in the yard but at the very last second they’d pushed you into the pool. Both boys stand tall in the image, but you’d recognise the taller one with the goofy grin anywhere, even if his face wasn’t already plastered across newspapers and featuring on the television every other evening. Namjoon is just as boyish in the image as you recall, and next to him where they stand laughing over the pool is Seokjin, appearance every bit as neat and clean as you’ve glimpsed in recent years when he has featured in a magazine or program that is particularly popular with the youth. It was always a bit weird to you, a little hard to process, that the two boys you’ve known since the three of you were in diapers are now pretty much, well… celebrities. Something bubbles in your chest, the pressure of a sigh but the weight of something you’re not quite ready to name yet. Distantly, in the back of your mind, a tiny part of you whispers that it tastes a little like regret, and sounds a little like yearning.

Growing up, the two of them had discovered an affinity for music, and you for the arts. You suppose that small difference is what eventually led to the distance that grew between you, before you left— if not for the fact that they found the limelight so naturally and built popularity quicker than anticipated after their individual musical debuts. It really didn’t take them all that long to begin steadily growing their fanbase within the youth of your town, their songs played more and more often on local stations. Before long people even a few cities over caught wind of them, but you didn’t get to see it. By the point they had spread their wings that far, you were already gone.

You wrinkle your nose, not liking this sudden trip down a particular lane in your memory that you’ve been avidly avoiding the past three years. Taking a step back from the desk that the photographs hang above, you desperately search for something else to capture your attention. Fortunately for you, a voice sounds behind you before you can flounder too long.

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually came. How long has it been, forty years?”

You jump slightly, the familiarity of the voice and sheer amount of attitude in the words allowing you to recognise it instantly. You spin, eyes quickly locking onto the familiar head of straight blonde hair and cherubic features that belong to your sister. You’ve kept in touch with her via letter and the occasional call, but other than that this is the first time you’ve seen her in years. She’s a little bit taller than you remember, and she’s filled out a little more now that she’s no longer a gangly teen. You are surprised though to note the absence of the usual distressed denim that she favoured throughout the years. Instead she’s in a neat pair of capris that rise to the dip of her waist, where she has tucked in a bright red blouse beneath a belt. Out of habit, you look down to her feet and catch a glimpse of red canvas shoes that instantly make you want to laugh; your mother never could get her into a pair of heels, even if she managed to get her out of the dungarees that she used to love so much.  Lisa smiles cheekily beneath your scrutiny, opening her arms wide. With a laugh, you throw your own around her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you retort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “Of course I would come to celebrate my own sister’s engagement. I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it.”

“Why does everyone say the same thing when I talk about it?” Lisa groans, pulling back with a familiar pout that seems to have survived her transition into young adulthood. She slips her arm through your own,  giving your bicep a smack as she leads you from the room. “It’s not that hard to believe that I’m getting married! Also— what on earth have you been up to all these years? Have you been attending classes? You’re in such good shape, oh my goodness—”

Unwittingly, your cheeks flush; you probably shouldn’t tell her the real reason for your current physique lest she blab with champagne-loosened lips about it to the rest of your family at her party. Sober Lisa is the only one that knows how to keep a secret, as you’ve found out through a number of shamefully scrawled confessions in the letters she would send you. A number of things you’d confided in her over the years have since been aired like dirty laundry to some of her friends, much to your mutual regret.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you say dismissively, quickly returning to the previous topic as the two of you descend the stairs. “And it’s probably because of all those things you said when you were younger, like how you’d rather live in a mud hut on a deserted island than ever marry a smelly boy riddled with cooties—”

“Ah, yes,” Lisa sighs, the sound more fond and less ashamed than you were expecting. “Those were the days— I was such a badass little ankle-biter. What has become of me? I must be the one riddled with cooties at this point.”

“Probably,” you muse, catching sight of your mother behind the kitchen counter and shooting her a smile as you move past. Lisa is lucky she hadn’t spoken too loudly or else she’d be getting a light smack for her language. It never seemed to stop her when she was younger though, so you doubt it would have an effect now either.

“A skirt at the knee, y/n?” Your mother lets out a dramatic, scandalous gasp upon seeing you. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“These are the clothes that you greeted me in?” You give her a pained look; apparently you need readjusting to her oddball sense of humour. She’s always been a little out of place in the straight-laced, conservative society that marks this day and age; your father too, except he was just a bit more sneaky about it. Actually, now that you think about it, Namjoon and Seokjin’s parents were always a little more on the liberal side too… What an odd coincidence that the three families ended up in a row at the end of the same cul-de-sac.

You’re not deigned with a response, your mother smacking her hands onto the apron she has tied over her baby blue skirt and turning to the oven. You think you hear her muttering about ‘time’ and ‘darn apple pies always taking too long to cook’ and can’t help the way your mouth waters in response. Gods, is it bad if one of the things you missed the most while away is the apple pies your mother makes?

You turn to Lisa, about to ask her whether the apple pie is something you’re going to be able to steal a piece of, only to find that she’s disappeared into thin air. Fantastic. You’re not staying here while you’re back in town, so you’re unsure whether you’re going to be able to cash in on dinner or whether your mother will hold it over your head a little first. You wander over to the  edge of the kitchen, sticking your head into the living room to peer around; you’re curious as to just how much has changed in the time that you’ve been gone. Not as much as you might have hoped, to your chagrin.

“You still have that ugly old thing,” you observe, unable to help the way that your nose wrinkles in response to the sight of the monstrosity still wearing holes into the carpet of the living room.

“My love,” you mother says, giving you an (affectionate) sharp smack on the shoulder as she slips past you, shooting you a bright grin when the thickness of her skirt knocks you slightly. Apparently she’s finished in the kitchen for now; you glance back to see a bowl of nuts joining the bowl of fruit that had been on the counter earlier. “I’d sooner perish than give up your grandmother’s armchair. Besides…. I do so adore how it never fails to draw your ire.”

“I do hate that thing,” your father utters suddenly from the kitchen behind you, his hand reaching for the bowl of fruit; he has his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, so you figure he must have retired to his study to read after greeting you earlier. He moves just as fast as you remember— your mother didn’t even have a chance to stop him before he was gone as quick as he came, hands full of whatever fruit he couldn’t fit in his mouth. 

“You—!” 

The sound of your father’s laughter tumbles off the walls, and you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You did miss this; the liveliness, the feeling of home. 

“y/n, dear, darling, light of my life…”

You turn to your mother, already knowing what is coming next from her tone. One thing you definitely didn’t miss—

“I forgot when I went past earlier, but could you go and fetch some cream from Barb’s? You know, that little store on the corner, down the road from the diner you always used to—”

You’re already turning towards the front of the house, heading for where you’d left your purse with a fond roll of your eyes. “I know where Barb’s is, Ma! I only went away to study, I didn’t lose my memories!”

Your mother’s cheeky laugh is what bids you farewell as you duck out the door and start on your way.

X – x – x

You’d forgotten just how tempting the treats in Barb’s are.

When you exit the small corner store around an hour or so later (it was hardly any distance to walk, but of course Mrs. Park was keen to hold you hostage long enough to squeeze every single detail out of you she could about your time away) it’s with an overflowing paper bag in your arms that holds more than just the cream your mother sent your for. One look at the apple Danish pastries and cinnamon-sprinkled goodies behind the glass of her counter and you’d been unable to help yourself. Your mother did always say that your sweet tooth would be your undoing. 

Walking through the streets that you grew up becoming so familiar with breeds a certain kind of yearning that swells in your chest and borders on painful. This, you suspect, is because most— if not all— of your memories of this place are intrinsically linked with those of the two men who used to take up such a big part of your life; and that therefore then left such a big hole when they were gone. 

It’s hard not to fall into them, the memories. The candy store where the three of you would scrounge up as many coins as you could and pile them all together to get the best sweets on the shelves; the library where you spent as much time goofing off and getting scolded as you did studying in your senior years; even the drive-in cinema, where you used to take your parents cars for the evening and sit on the hood while poking fun at the latest flick to grace the screen. Being back here is making you face something that you have somehow skilfully managed to avoid up until now—

You miss them, Seokjin and Namjoon. You miss your best friends.

This is something that is hammered home further when you reach the point in your journey home where you pass the place featured most in your memories. Dana’s Dinery, probably the only thing more constant in your life than those two boys and your own family. The pink and red hues of its name and the exposed bulbs decorating the signage are something you remember clear as day, and just the sight of it alone has your mouth watering for the burgers and other fried goods they loved to serve there. The kind of food you know is terrible for you, but that you also just can’t get enough of nonetheless. You’ve spent so many nights there that at some point every single member of staff there knew you by name. Of course, since the three of you were barely seen apart at that time, they knew Seokjin and Namjoon, too. 

You’re tempted to duck in and say hello, and before you can even give it much thought your feet are already angling you in that direction, short heels scuffing against the pavement. Through the window you can see the familiar shiny red booth seats and the similarly upholstered stools that line the counter; behind it is a woman with wild, dark curls thrown back in a bun, a pencil behind her ear. Ah, so Mrs. Cara still works there. A petal of affection unfurls in your chest at the sight of her, but drops to the ground in the next second as your gaze slides to the side and halts on two figures currently seated at the counter.

No way. No way.

You freeze, eyes wide as you stand rooted to the spot for just a moment. You know that logically, they can’t be here, but the profiles you can just barely glimpse from this distance are so eerily familiar to that of Namjoon and Seokjin that you think your heart skips perhaps one too many beats. For some reason, your stomach roils with the urge to flee; you just got around to admitting that you miss them, and yet the second you think you might be seeing them, you want to run away? Honestly, it doesn’t make sense—wouldn’t make sense to anyone else privy to the thoughts currently whipping through your mind. 

But you’re a master at stewing in your own thoughts and feelings, familiar with dissecting them until you understand them to the best of your ability at the time. So you know why you promptly turn on your heel and begin hastily back on your way home, abandoning any plans to go inside the diner. You know why, but you’re not quite ready to dwell on it yet, so you push it to the backburner and do your very best not to think about it the whole walk back.

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

A huff escapes you, your eyes boring into the ceiling, unfocused. After delivering the cream to your mother (and promptly having the extra sweets confiscated until after dinner, lest you snack away your appetite—you guess that answers your question about whether you’re staying for supper) you decided to retire up here for now. You’d thought that your room might feel a little alien to you after all this time away, but when you’d dragged yourself in and shucked your shoes off at the door, it had welcomed you back with an air of nostalgia and open arms. You’re sprawled across your bed now, arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling. When you were younger, maybe fourteen, you had decorated it with little stars and planets that you’d painted. Well, it wasn’t just you—some of the more crudely decorated renditions towards the wall are courtesy of Seokjin and Namjoon. You wouldn’t say they’re bad at art, just that they have… well, a distinct style that is very them.

Wait, you’re getting distracted—back to the matter at hand: you’re ashamed. 

At this point in your life, if someone had asked you why that particular emotion might be plaguing you right now, then in all honesty you would have a vast array of reasons to give them. But the answer as to why you’re ashamed right now, lies in the two people you could have sworn you glimpsed earlier. 

Now that there is a little temporal distance between you and that particular moment, you can use logic to assure yourself that there’s no way you actually just saw Namjoon and Seokjin at the diner that you all used to haunt in your youth. But in the moment, when you thought you’d seen them, you fell into a bit of a panic. This, you have determined, is because you are ashamed. It’s a little harder to determine why you’re ashamed in relation to them, but what you’ve managed to discern so far is that you feel to blame for the way things went, at least partially. Or, perhaps its that you fear they blame you for the way things went. In reality, from what you remember, they first began to grow apart from each other, and then they began to grow apart from you. That, of course, isn’t something you can blame yourself for. But, what you can blame yourself for – and here is what you think may be the root of your shame – is that you were the one to up and leave suddenly. You were the one to disappear without even a goodbye, almost. You could have kept in touch if you tried, but you’d basically disappeared off the face of the earth.

You wonder if they blame you, or if they might even resent you because of that.

Well, if they even remember you, that is. They’re pretty much in the big leagues now, you remind yourself. They’re making it mainstream and they’re hot on the heels of the most renowned names in the business. 

You��re not very good at comforting yourself. Not that you really attempted it this time, but usually whenever you do you just end up stewing in your thoughts a little. You don’t even realise you’re glaring at the ceiling in the midst of sorting through your mental mess until a knock at the door jerks you out of it. You turn towards it just as it opens and a head pops inside, a gleam you instantly decide you don’t like shining in Lisa’s eyes.

“Come downstairs,” she says cryptically, beginning to ease back out. She only chimes once more when she’s out of view. “If you don’t, I’ll eat all those pastries you brought back! Keep that in mind!”

What on earth… you’re left absolutely confused for a moment, before her last words sink in and you throw yourself from your bed with haste, not even bothering to put your shoes back on before you dart out of the room. The trip downstairs is treacherous in stockings, but you don’t have time to lose. You’re sister isn’t one to bluff, and you don’t want her anywhere near those pastries!

“Don’t you touch those!” you call in warning as you slide across the hardwood floor in the hall and fly down the stairs. “Lisa, I mean it! If you lay a single finger on those pastries you’ll lose it!”

There’s laughter in the direction of the kitchen, and you’re angled to follow the sound when your eyes catch sight of movement to the side and you freeze on the spot. 

“y/n!” your mother cries, clearly ecstatic that you’ve come down to join her. She’s standing in the hall that leads the front door, talking to some people you can’t yet see. “Look who’s here! My, I haven’t seen these two in almost as long as I hadn’t seen you!”

Something like dread, mixed with an odd spike of anticipation, begins to trickle into your abdomen. All too suddenly you remember exactly who you thought you saw earlier, and realise she can only be talking about two people in particular. 

Nervously, you smooth down your skirt and blouse, shooting your mother a look that you hope isn’t too panicked. She is, of course, oblivious, and simply grabs you by the arm to drag you around the corner. 

“I haven’t seen the three of you together in so long! I missed your handsome faces around here, too. Perhaps the height as well— now there’s no one in the house that can reach the top shelf in the pantry.”

Your mother is babbling, but you can’t bring yourself to mind when it saves you from having to speak yourself. As you’d feared, there are two very familiar people standing before you, hovering on your doorstep with almost nervous energy.

“It has been a while,” a soft tone with the luxurious depth of velvet— Seokjin smiles so charmingly at your mother that you think your heart really might have stopped for a second. When his dark eyes turn to you, there is something swirling in their depths that is in such contrast to the winning smile on his lips that you almost feel your knees shake. “y/n, it’s a lovely surprise to catch you here— we didn’t know you were in town as well.”

“Oh, and what brings you two boys back here?” Your mother asks, all too excited to hear exactly what has been going on in their lives since she saw them last. Thankfully, she saves you from having to answer straight away. “Are you back for long?”

“Just a week,” Namjoon answers, bashful smile juxtaposing the beaten leather of the jacket over his shoulders and the low, rough melody of his voice. Oh dear— “We’re actually here celebrating something with a close friend of ours; we were invited to a… party of sorts, you could say.”

You think you might be safe, that he might not say anything to you just yet, when he turns to you and his eyes flick along your form. He smiles again, this time with his dimples making an appearance. 

“It really has been too long, y/n. I’m glad we managed to run into you.”

You know it’s not a dig at you, but you feel your cheeks flush with shame nonetheless.

“Don’t tell me the three of you haven’t seen each other since she left,” your mother gasps, sending you a look that tells you she is going to be wringing information out of you later.

There’s a slight lull in the conversation that tells you it’s your time to chime in. Before you can, though, Seokjin speaks— still with a smile, despite the slight bite of his words. 

“Ah, yeah,” he says, shaking his head. He leans back slightly, switching his weight to the other leg and crossing his arms over his chest— you try not to look at the way it makes his chest and shoulders strain against the material of his button-up. “We wanted to write, or call, but we didn’t know where she was staying to send it. Made it a little hard to keep in touch.”

Your heart squeezes; that was a dig, that was definitely a dig. And you deserved it, but damn you didn’t realise it would hurt that much. And he hadn’t even said anything direct!

“Oh, well this is perfect then!” Your mother smacks you on the back, a little rougher than necessary, making you cough. “y/n is here for the week, why don’t you all catch up? Lisa’s engagement party is on Saturday so any day other than that should be fine— oh, you two should come, by the way! And invite your mothers too; it’s been too long since we’ve all sat down for tea.”

“That would be wonderful,” Namjoon agrees amicably, nodding his head to your mother. “I’m sure they’d love to take you up on that invite— I did get an earful about how lonely she was when I got home earlier.”

You have to fight a smile at that— Namjoon’s mother does have a penchant for the dramatics. You turn your gaze to the side to find Seokjin’s own already boring holes into you— it takes all your willpower not to jump. When he sees he has your attention, he smiles once more.

“We’d love to catch up,” he says, eyes still holding you captive. “How about dinner tomorrow, at Dana’s? I miss the burgers there.”

You catch Namjoon nodding from the corner of your eye, agreeing with the idea, and swallow your nerves down to flash a smile back. “Of course, that sounds fantastic.”

The two men nod, satisfied for now, and Namjoon pipes up once more as they take a step back.

“Well, we should probably get back— if we’re late for supper today we mightn’t be alive for dinner tomorrow,” he jokes, earning a laugh from your mother. His eyes flick to you, unreadable but holding such heat you almost gasp, “We’ll meet you there at seven tomorrow, y/n. I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“See you, boys!” Your mother waves farewell, jabbing you with her elbow until you join her. “Hurry home!”

They nod with a laugh, and you watch them retreat to their respective homes on either side of yours until your mother closes the door and cuts off your view, turning to you with a look that could mean a number of things. She’s distracted from unleashing a verbal flood on you in the next moment, however, when she catches sight of your feet.

“y/n!” she gasps, tone scolding. “Go put your shoes on! Walking around without them— this isn’t how I raised you, my goodness. You’re going to wear holes in your stockings! Go go go!”

Startled by the way she raises her arm in promise, you yelp and scamper away, back towards the stairs. “Okay, I’m going!”

You’re about halfway up the stairs, petticoat and skirt swishing violently from how fast you scaled them, when she calls after you.

“And don’t think you’re off the hook, missy! You and I are having a long, in-depth chat after dinner!”

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

“I’m in trouble, Mina. Oh, I’m in trouble.”

“It can’t be anything more than the trouble you’re going to be in for wearing holes into the hotel room carpet— stop that! You’re making me anxious!”

You halt mid-pace, sending your friend a pained look. She’s sprawled across the second bed in your hotel room, reading some magazine that touts the latest in makeup and jewellery from some of the more big-name brands.

“Please, just this once, let me be the one having a Diva moment,” you say, almost begging— to your own distaste. You just need someone to vent to, but she’s not exactly being helpful.

“What is this about?” she asks, closing her magazine to pin you with a borderline-grumpy look. “What has your knickers in such a— oh, I love those shorts! Are those new?”

“Uh, yeah. I bought them the other week,” you answer, looking down at the light blue shorts you’d slipped into for comfort’s sake this morning. They’re so comfortable, in fact, that you regret that you’re unable to wear them in public. You quickly shake your head when you realise you’re getting off-topic. “Hey— I told you what this is about! Did you listen to a single thing I said since I got back last night? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Mina utters under her breath. “Yes, I was listening! I was just checking we were talking about the same thing!"

The look you give her is dubious at best, "Okay, then what am I talking about?"

"Those two hot cats you grew up with," Mina says, waving her manicured hand dismissively. "What about them is giving you such grief?"

"I ran into them yesterday," you say, eyes unfocused as you fall back into your thoughts once more. "They want to meet for dinner, to catch up."

"Oh, well that's fine," Mina says. "You don't have feelings for them anymore, so it should be alright, yeah?"

You bite your lip, wincing and giving her a look that could only be described as a mixture between sheepish and remorseful.

"Oh, y/n," She sounds a lot like your mother with the tone she's taken now, "Don't tell me..."

"I thought I was over it!" you say, wailing almost, as you throw your arms into the air. "They were already so distant before I left, you know? And it's been so long that I thought the feelings went away."

You huff, one hand on your hip and the other splayed over your face. "But then I saw them yesterday, and I think I nearly had a heart failure. I don't think... that those feelings went away."

When you manage to glimpse her way, Mina is wincing, teeth visible. She reaches up to scratch her hairline, almost dislodging one of the curlers she has wound in her hair. "Well, it's just one dinner... When is it? I'm sure you have plenty of time to get rid of those feelings before you--"

"It's tonight," you say with a certain level of resignation, walking over to your own bed and finally throwing yourself onto it in defeat.

"Tonight?!" Mina positively squawks, scrambling into a sitting position in her disbelief. "Uh, y/n, I do hope you haven't forgotten, but we have a show almost every night Saturday--"

"I know," you bemoan, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the odd marks there-- you don't have the brain space to wonder how they even got up there in the first place. "The dinner will be finished in time, I'm not worried about that. I'm just... worried about what will happen during, you know? It's kind of stupid but... what if they hate me now? I didn't even tell them when I left, didn't give them an address to write me or a number to call..."

"Yeah, that was kind of a rude move," Mina says bluntly, "But I don't think they would invite you to dinner to catch up if they hated you, y'know? They were your best friends, they probably missed the hell out of you."

You ponder her words, unable to pick them apart with logic. "Maybe," you mutter, picking at a loose thread on your blouse."... I did miss them."

"See?" Mina says knowingly, giving you a look before falling back on the bed and reaching for the chunky romance novel that she has perched on the headboard above the bed.. "And who knows— you're a hot catch, they might end up returning those feelings and you might come out of this a lucky woman! Well, probably a bit sore in certain places, but lucky nonetheless—”

"MINA!"

The pillow you threw smacks her square in the face, but does nothing to muffle the cackle she lets out after. God, she's not the first choice to come to for advice, but to her credit you do feel a bit better now.

x- x - x

Seven o’clock that evening finds you hovering nervously outside the doors to Dana's Dinery, hand outstretched to take the handle but unable to follow through completely with the movement. For the moment, you're stuck in your thoughts, and your thoughts are stuck on the same thing that had plagued them earlier in the day.

What's going to happen when you walk in there? When you're seated at the table with them and in the process of catching up? You shouldn't be as fearful of it as you are, but you can't help it. The evolution your feelings for them undertook a few years ago aside, they were still very much your best friends. Their opinion of you... well it sucks, but it still matters to you.

Didn’t stop you from doing what you did though, did it?

Huffing and deciding to ignore the nasty little voice that is attempting to make an already stressful night even worse, you force your limbs into action and simply resign to bite the bullet. If they are upset with you, then being late to dinner certainly won’t help things. 

“y/n! Over here!”

With how quickly they spot you, mere seconds after passing through the doorway, a part of you wonders if they saw you hovering outside like a coward. Shame flushes across your neck and ears at the thought, but you do your best to remain at least outwardly unaffected.

Over in the booth at the very end of the diner, nestled against the window and the wall, the two men who have been haunting your thoughts for more than a day sit. You recognise the booth— it’s your Corner, you always sat there with them, to the point where if the staff saw anyone else sit there when they knew you were coming, they’d politely usher them to a new seat. It makes something shift inside you to see them there again. You don’t feel like you’re in school again, but something else feels akin to that time…

It’s probably the butterflies.

Namjoon is grinning at you widely, waving his arm; he’s ditched the leather from yesterday and is now donning a fitted black button-up that brings a nice contrast against the sun-kissed hue of his skin, though his hair is still swept into its style somewhat half-heartedly. Seokjin next to him is in a tan knit turtleneck sweater, glasses perched on his nose and hair attended to much more neatly than the man next to him. Both men are looking at you as you approach, but their stares (especially Seokjin’s) are a little too intense for you to handle, and you end up looking away as you take a seat across from them. 

The booth is less squeaky than you remember, but somehow just as plush. You place your purse and cardigan onto the red leather next to you, clasping your hands together and offering a tentative smile. The soft rock tumbling from speakers around the diner isn’t going to fill the lull in conversation for very long. “Hey, sorry to have kept you waiting…”

Seokjin raises a brow, and you know in that moment that they did indeed see you hovering outside the diner. You don’t have time to process the embarrassment that follows that realisation, though, before Namjoon begins speaking with a warm smile. 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he informs you, eyes glimmering like he’s just happy to have you here. It makes something painful throb in your chest. “And loosen up, would you? You’re sitting like you’re at a job interview.”

To your embarrassment, a brief internal examination of your posture tells you that he is right. Sheepishly, you allow the tension to drain from your body, leaning forward onto the table slightly. “Sorry,” you mumble, offering a smile. “Guess I’m just a bit wound up from being home. I forgot how chaotic it is here…”

To your surprise, Seokijn snorts; your fears that he was truly upset with you are dispelled somewhat as a lopsided grin tugs his plush lips, eyes meeting yours levelly.  “Tell me about it. My mother had my aunt and the cousins over when I got home. I haven’t felt as exhausted as I did after that night in, well, years.”

You don’t notice the smile Namjoon shoots to the man beside him when he first speaks, but you do notice when he lets out a laugh and beams so brightly that his eyes almost close and something you completely forgot about makes an appearance. His dimples have always been a weak spot of yours, and you’re slightly horrified to find that glimpsing them now has led to a skipped beat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach. 

It’s not looking very good for the state of your old feelings right now…

“You never unwind properly,” Namjoon says, somewhat chastising despite his playful tone. He doesn’t pursue it further, though. Instead, he turns to you with a soft smile. “So, y/n, how was college? If you have replaced us as best friends, I will never forgive you.”

You can’t help the laugh that tumbles from your throat at both his words and his face, Seokjin chuckling to himself in the corner. Still smiling, you tell him that no, you haven’t replaced them, and sort through the events of your first year for something they’d like to hear. 

Just like that, and definitely much easier and less stilted than you feared it would be, the three of you seem to sink back into something like the old dynamic you used to share, conversation beginning to flow and laughter beginning to tumble. There are some small differences, of course. Namjoon, who used to be much more clumsy and prone to blushing in his fluster, now seems to have come into his own and his presence commands your attention whenever he speaks or gestures, each movement sure and with confidence. While Seokjin used to be the more blatant joker between the three of you, now he seems to sit back a bit, observing conversation contentedly until he sees the perfect opportunity to chime in and elicit a few laughs. 

And then, there’s you.

Well, you suppose you haven’t changed all that much. When Ms. Cara comes around to take your order (amongst gushing about how grown up and handsome and beautiful the three of you look), you still order the same thing from the menu, go about eating it the same way (fries before burger, being sure to leave some so you can slip them under the bun), and feel the same butterflies running amok in your stomach as you did years ago. You know that you’ve changed a lot, an almost scary amount, but sitting here in this diner with the two men who used to be your best friends, you’re only realising just how much of you is the same.  

“I still don’t know how you can eat that,” Namjoon says, pausing in scarfing his own dessert down to judge you for yours. “You always used to get it— aren’t you sick of it?”

“Hey!” Seokjin intercepts, pointing his spoon at Namjoon. “The Fun Sized Sundae with the Triple Sauce Special is a respectable choice of dessert, and I won’t have you shaming it when you’re just sitting there with pudding and custard!”

You chuckle at Seokjin’s avid defence of your choice— the two of you were the only ones with a big enough sweet tooth to be able to combat the sugary monster that is your choice of dessert. He hadn’t braved it tonight, though, opting instead for apple pie.

“I actually haven’t had it since I was last here,” you say, without even thinking. Another spoonful is already on its way to your mouth as you continue, “It’s one of the things I missed most after I—”

You cut yourself off, realising your blunder too late. The looks in their eyes tell you they know what you were about to say. After I left. Ah, how could you forget? You’ve been here over an hour and this is the first time it’s crossed your mind since you entered. You left— you. Not them, but you.

Your appetite suddenly begins to fade, and you place your spoon down as gently as you can. It still tinks against the bowl, but does little to break the tension beginning to seep into the air.

You clear your throat, growing a little antsy in your seat. Even as you ask, you’re unable to meet their eyes, “Ah, what time is it? We— I got a little carried away…”

The question had mostly been to dispel some of the awkwardness, but Namjoon’s response had you shooting up ramrod straight. “It’s five-to-nine.”

“Oh, shoot,” you don’t even think about the words escaping your mouth, just that way more time had passed than you thought and if you stay any longer then you’re going to be bordering dangerously close on being late for your other very important commitment tonight. “I— I have to go. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was.”

You hurry to gather your cardigan and purse, starting to shimmy out of the booth, when Seokjin speaks up, “Is everything alright? Where are you off to in such a rush? If you need, we can walk you—”

“No!” you burst, regret swallowing you moments later when you see how taken aback the two men are at your sudden rise in tone. “No, sorry, it’s okay. I just, um… I just have to pick up something, for Lisa’s party.”

“At nine o’clock at night?” Jin verifies, brows drawing down.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, voice small as you manage to finally get out of the booth and stand somewhat sheepishly at the end. “I’m so sorry, it was so lovely meeting you two again and catching up. I’ll, um… I’ll see you, at Lisa’s party.”

You barely allow them enough time to bid their own farewells before you’re turning on your heel and hightailing it out of there before one of them comes to their senses and offers to walk you again. 

You definitely do not need one of your old best friends walking you to the entrance of a club.

A fifteen minute cab ride is what you choose instead, and it isn’t long before you’re slipping into the building from the back entrance and dashing through the halls.

“FINALLY,” Mina erupts dramatically when she catches sight of you bursting into the dressing room, brows raising so high they almost meet her bangs. “I almost thought you were going to stand us up, Miss Luna.” 

Your eyes sweep over her form, alarm filling you at the fact she’s already mostly dressed, from her netted stockings to the many fluffy and feathery layers that she’ll be discarding on the stage tonight. She’s currently sitting at the dresser, putting the final touches on her makeup with small detail brushes.

“That lip colour is too orange,” you inform her, hastily rushing over to the chest that you know contains your outfit for tonight. Mina halts in her motions, staring at herself in the mirror for a long moment before she tilts her head back and lets out a loud, torturous groan.

“I knew it! Momo, you lied to me! I asked you if this colour was too orange or warm and you said—”

You shake your head, slinging the clothes you retrieved over your arm and making your way over to the screen in the corner to get changed. You feel a little bad for the girl currently on the receiving end of Mina’s whines, but on the other hand you’re now free to rush about and catch up to the rest of your co-performers. 

Within the next ten minutes you’re dressed and ready to go, dropping into a seat next to Mina and reaching to begin powdering your face.

From the tingle of excitement beginning to thrum in the air, you can only assume it won’t be long now before the show begins.

x   x   x   x 

Burlesque. It’s something that you know from experience, something you’d sadly gained before you grew more skilled at hiding your profession from the judging eyes of others, has some quite divided views and opinions. Despite how open-minded and liberal as your parents are, you know even they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that their beloved daughter had moved away for college and somehow come to perform in burlesque theatres on the side. 

You don’t even have a clear explanation as to how or why you’d ended up down this path, just that you had. Contrary to what a majority of the population would likely hope, you aren’t ashamed, and you don’t regret it. This is something you love, and you think part of the reason you had been so drawn to it in the first place was the promise of power nestled within a certain kind of anonymity.

Your act, after all, is a masquerade performed beneath the security of an intricate lace and silk colombina disguise.

When you’d first left, you’d felt… well, there wasn’t any other way to put it but rejected, and abandoned. You might have been the one that left, and it’s something you regret now, but at the time it was Namjoon and Jin who had grown distant from both each other and you. Coupled with their increasing popularity and the way their lives seemed to be picking up speed in the direction they’d always dreamed of, it made you realise that their world was getting a little too big for you, and in the scheme of their lives you no longer held a starring role.

So you’d packed up and moved away, and in the midst of your aimless moping in another city, you’d stumbled upon this… and from the first taste of empowerment it gave you in the wake of all you had been feeling, you quickly decided you weren’t going to be letting it go anytime soon. 

And now here you are; an act with such high regard and admiration that you had been called to perform it in other cities. It was a stroke of fortune that one of the stops was your own hometown, at the same time as your sister’s engagement party no less. You had wondered at the time what the catch had to be, and now, of course, you know.

It’s that in an instance of divinely aligned misfortune, the two people you’d planned to avoid indefinitely happened to be here as well.

It’s been a few days since the night you spent catching up with them, and there is enough distance between then and now for you to have calmed significantly when thinking about it. It had been kind of weird, sneaking away from the diner to come perform that night. Even though years have passed, you’re still so used to telling them everything whenever you see them, that holding something back feels foreign, and oddly enough… you feel a little guilty. The first excuse that comes to your mind in your defence is that  ‘they wouldn’t understand anyway’. You know that is baseless, though. Both of them have become popular and risen to fame not just because of their natural musical talent, but for the topics that their music so brazenly broaches.

The truth is that you know they wouldn’t judge you for anything you do, and you’re not quite sure why you’re so resistant to them knowing. The human mind is a mystery, and yours is no exception.

A slow, smooth saxophone melody brushes your ears, a lower note capturing your attention and bringing you back to the present moment. Amongst the faint tendrils of smoke that reach you from the seating area, an itch rises at your brow and you fight to contain it, not wanting to rub off the thin arch you’d drawn on so carefully earlier. It was always like this; you always got itchy before performing, for reasons unknown to you. One of your friends had theorised that it was due to nerves, or something similar. It drove your manager mad, because you’d ripped your costume pantyhose a few times while scratching your thighs in the past.

Mina’s act precedes yours, usually, and tonight isn’t any different. She’s good, and you can’t help but marvel as you watch her. Her movements are fluid, full of a certain zest and allure that mix into a single heady cocktail that has the crowd enraptured as she allows her skirts to drop ever so slowly with each smooth swing and sashay of her hips. When the ruffled fabric hits the floor there are hoots and whistles from the crowd, and Mina’s beaming face peeks over her shoulder to deliver a wink. The room eats it up.

It’s a special performance, tonight.

Due to confidentiality, none of the performers had been told exactly who was attending tonight, just that they were Very Important People, and they were to be shown the best performance they would ever see in their lives. It was an ambitious set of instructions, but you know that both yourself and the other girls in the show are some of the best in the business, so you aren’t too worried about meeting expectations. You plan to exceed them. 

You always put effort into your appearance, but tonight you admit that you did try the tiniest bit harder than usual. Your hair is pulled back from your face, twisted and pinned into curls at the top of your head; the rest of it you simply allowed to hang to its natural length and shape, though you took care to make sure it was soft and silky enough to gleam beneath the stage lights. At Mina’s insistence, you’d allowed her to pin a few small glittery ornaments amongst the curls, and as you peek out and see just how full the room is, you find yourself thanking her mentally. It’s the little details that really pull together a performance and hammer home the effect it has on the audience, and it looks like a full house tonight that you’re going to wow. Though, none of the faces seem to jump out at you so far— you still don’t know who tonights VIPs are. 

Even though tonight is meant to be a big, important night — as it had been emphasised to you so many times — you still find your thoughts wondering back to a certain two men and the reappearance of the feelings you’d once harboured for them. You’re conflicted, as anyone might expect of someone in your situation, but you can’t say you’re very fond of the feeling. Hence, despite your best efforts, your thoughts just keep coming back to your current predicament. Lisa’s party is tomorrow, and you know from yesterday’s visit to your home that your mother had already extended an enthusiastic invitation to both families on either side of the fence. So you know that there is absolutely no way that those two aren’t going to be there, since even if they hadn’t already expressed their intention of attending, their mother’s would drag them over by the ear.

You’re not sure why you’re still worrying about this. You already met and caught up with them! And it went well… or at least it did, until the topic of your abrupt disappearance from their lives was brought up. 

Perhaps that is why you’re so conflicted still. That is an issue that has yet to be resolved.

When you tune back in to the moment and catch your manager sending you a whithering look, you shake your head and decide to try and ground yourself so that you’re not off with the fairies by the time your cue to perform rolls around. You bring your gaze back to the stage, finding that in the time you spent in your own head, Mina had managed to strip down to just her shelf brassiere and the panties and baby blue garter belt with straps that stretched over her shapely thighs and attached to the top of her stockings.

You get lost in the moment, watching as the spotlight follows her across the stage and illuminates each small gesture she makes that draws the audience further and further under her spell. Her hair is perfectly curled and with each flick of her head and bat of her lashes, the strands slide over her shoulder and bounce against her back. As she reaches for her final garment to discard, it isn’t long before the light fades in tandem with the last note of her song, and the audience gets only the barest glimpse of Mina’s almost bare form before the stage is blanketed in darkness. Cheers and applause break the beat of silence that follows, and then Mina is hurriedly rushing past you, beaming with pride and holding most of her discarded skirts bunched up to her chest. Soon, the applause fades out, the hollers nonexistent, and the stage is cleared.

Now, it’s your turn to wrap the audience around your finger. 

Taking a deep breath and revelling in the light fluttering of your stomach that never seems to fade no matter how many shows you perform, you listen for the first few strumming notes of the song that accompanies your routine. When the low, bass riff of guitar finally brushes the air, you make your way slowly onto the stage and let yourself fall into the familiarity of the show.

It’s kind of ironic, you can’t help but think to yourself. Considering the events of this week, the song you’d chosen to tailor your routine to is kind of funny. For the first few years of their careers, you’d seen Namjoon and Seokjin simply go their separate ways. You thought that would be it, that your friendship had broken up for good, but to your complete and utter surprise, at the beginning of this year there had been a new record to grace the radio and enrapture young fans across the country. An unexpected collaboration between two of the biggest figureheads of the rock and rebellion movement that had started to sweep through the youth. 

When you had first heard the song, you’d done a double-take. It wasn’t anything like the rapid, upbeat rock that came to be synonymous with Seokjin’s name, or the heavier, laidback tune that usually accompanied Namjoon’s records. The beat that lay beneath the lyrics was sultry, deep and dark and made your heart skip a beat and your stomach dip. However when the lyrics registered in your mind, you’d had to fight the urge to cry. They weren’t strictly sad, per se, but to you… they had spoken a little deeper. It felt paranoid to think it, but a part of you had to wonder at how… targeted… the song had seemed to be—

Was it made... for you?

You wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it aloud to anyone or even yourself, but you liked to think so. It helped, when you found yourself missing them and yearning for the way things had been. It soothed the traitorous aching of a heart that didn’t seem to remember that the choice to leave hadn’t been theirs, but rather yours.

In the version that accompanies your performance, there are no vocals. Even so, the beat is easily recognisable and as it begins to play, an excited murmur sweeps through the crowd. Something about it is a little odd, but currently your back is turned to the audience, so you don’t get to investigate the feeling. Instead, you let each note that enters the air and brushes against your skin to soak into your being, closing your eyes for the barest second to centre yourself before you feel the heat of the lights begin to grace your skin, and you start to slowly swing your hips.

It is only instruments that brush your ears now, but you can hear the opening lines of the song so clearly in your head you can’t help but mouth them in time.

We're part of the moonlight, Ain't a fantasy...

Can't breathe in the sunlight, Gotta hide your heart...

Following the rise and fall of the beat, you turn your head over your shoulder to deliver a sly smile and a wink, moving your hips all the while— a round of catcalls and surprised murmurs results. You are the only one of the performers to wear a mask after all, so you’re not surprised by the response. Turning back around, your ease yourself into the familiar motions of your routine and let the song and atmosphere carry you away.

At any other time, you would probably find it funny how second nature stripping yourself of your clothes has become. The silky gown that drapes over your shoulders and ends in faux fur ruffles that trail across the floor is the first to go, revealing the entirety of your stocking-clad legs through a sheer petticoat, and the corset and cushioned bandeau that hides a sheer, cheekily embroidered bralette beneath. The audience eats the reveal right up and at the enthusiastic response, your chest swells with pride. You’re smiling, but with a flick of your wrist you snap open a fan and use it to cover the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes to peer out at the crowd from behind the mask. You’d discovered early on that a little bit of mystery keeps them intrigued a little longer.

You don’t pay much mind to the audience as individuals; more often than not, when you perform they become a faceless blur. But as your routine goes on and your body follows each sultry move to the beat, one item of clothing discarded after the other, you find yourself paying a little more attention than you usually would. 

It’s as the top part of your corset meets the floor and your sheer bralette is exposed that your eyes sweep over a certain portion of the room, and you realise very suddenly and abruptly who the guests of honour are tonight.

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

Two familiar faces return your gaze from the centre-back portion of the room, in one of the deluxe booths. It’s a wonder you can recognise them through the haze of smoke created by cigars and cigarettes, but you think that you’d be hard-pressed not to, at this point. Seokjin and Namjoon sit back comfortably in the booth with two unfamiliar men on either side of them, their eyes lit with a certain kind of intrigue and focused solely on you. For a heartbeat, your chest feels so tight you can’t take in a breath, stomach fluttering. Just barely, you manage to maintain your face and stop yourself from stumbling in your routine. The beginning of panic begins to bubble beneath your lungs, but in a split-second it is stopped in its tracks as something seems to snap inside you and you come to a realisation.

You’re wearing a mask. They don’t know it’s you.

It strikes you again, the way they eyes are trained on your every move, and it knocks you breathless once more, though for a different reason this time. Exhilaration begins to course through you— you feel powerful. When you were with them the other day, the weight of the knowledge of your wrongs and your guilt held you on unequal ground. But now, here in the heady allure and smoky seduction in this room, you have them in the palm of your hands and the dynamic is switched, if only for a moment. 

With barely a moment having lapsed since your initial realisation, you slip right back into the next move in your dance, each shift of a limb accompanied with just that little bit more oomph than before. This is their song, the song you suspect they wrote for you, and since you don’t think you will ever be able to forget it, or them, you will make sure they won’t forget this.

One fluid movement leads to the next, the beat picking up ever so slightly as you bend, legs straight and behind pointed at the crowd, before easing your way back up and unclasping the hooks that keep your corset together. When it falls, you turn and bend once more, this time facing the audience so that they see it when you push your breasts together and wriggle your shoulders, a cheeky wink accompanying the resulting jiggle of your chest. 

More hoots and hollers, as expected of an audience that seems to completely consist of men tonight, and you’re pleased to see that the two guests of the hour aren’t completely unaffected either. Namjoon is leaning forward slightly, gaze intense, and Seokjin’s eyes have narrowed in focus as they follow you across the stage. 

Following each note in the song, you strut across the stage, and when there is a pause before it picks up once more, you drop to your knees and reach forward to the floor, arching your back with your behind to the audience again. Using the strength you’ve built in your thighs over the years, you slide one leg up and turn yourself around, using the momentum to slip into an abridged version of the splits. While in this position you bend backwards, one arm reaching back to unravel the ribbon that keeps your flimsy bralette up. When you feel it come loose, you bring your hands to each piece and make a faux-shocked expression, ever so slowly peeling the sheer fabric down and revelling in the way the room is watching with bated breath. 

Your breasts bounce as you yank the bralette all the way down, the tassels that were hidden beneath and keep the barest remainder of your dignity intact jiggling with the movement. Using the cheers that result as a distraction of sorts, you deftly remove the bralette with one hand and discard it slyly on the floor, bringing yourself out of the splits but moving to another position on your knees, sliding your legs apart. There are a few soft gasps and sharp inhales that echo from the front of the crowd, and you can tell from the way their eyes are focused on the inside of your thighs that they’ve glimpsed the pretty picture inked into your skin there. You don’t leave their gazes to wonder too long though, reaching up to pinch the dangling ornaments of your tassels and using them to lift your breasts. You ignore the low, pleasurable tingle that shoots through you at the sensation of tugging on your nipples, fighting to keep your legs open, and release the tassels from your grip. Your breasts bounce generously once more, cheers sounding across the room at the sight. You deliver a wink, before bringing yourself off of the floor in a fluid movement, hearing the final notes of the song beginning to play and a low, sexy saxophone drawl emerging to intertwine with the rest.

The end of your routine passes in a blur, your mind slipping into a haze as you simply move, barely aware of the way you dance and sashay across the stage. A feathery boa situated strategically to the side becomes incorporated in your final moves, allowing the audience peeks at what they can’t have and drawing them further and further in until the music hits a crescendo and with it, you fall into your final pose.

The last thing you see, as the lights begin to dim and the crowd erupts into applause, is the way Seokjin and Namjoon’s eyes are boring holes into you, transfixed on the place where your hip meets the inside of your thigh and the intricate depiction of a crescent moon and a rose that are inked into the skin there.

 x    x    x

 “...sweetheart? Is there a reason why you haven’t gone outside yet? Everyone is by the pool with those wonderful finger foods your Aunt brought with her!”

You startle at the sound of your mother’s voice, almost dropping the grape that had been en route to your mouth as you stared into nothing, rooted in place in the middle of the kitchen. The day of your sister’s engagement party has come, faster than you were able to prepare for, and now that you’re no longer on the stage staring down your two ex-best friends from behind a mask, you’ve lost a lot of your gall. In fact, it could even be argued that your spine had slipped right out of your body the second you stepped off the stage that night. It’s the early afternoon, and Namjoon and Seokjin have been here for about… perhaps half an hour. You don’t claim to be perfect, but the way you’ve been skulking about and hiding in the kitchen is pathetic even to you. 

It’s just… how do you face them after that? They’ve technically seen you almost completely in the nude! If your grandmother ever caught wind of the fact that a man had seen you without clothes then she’d marry you off immediately— not to mention if she ever found out Seokjin and Namjoon, of all men, had seen you like that, she would have an absolute field day!

It was bordering on disheartening, but at this point, even after all this time, you’re pretty sure most of your family loves those two more than they love you.

“I, um… just wanted some grapes?” you blink, offering a sheepish smile that you hope your mother doesn’t find suspicious. That is quickly shot down when you see her brow raise and her bright cherry lips quirk to the side, eyes flicking to the empty glass by the grapes that reeks of gin. What can you say, you thought downing a glass would help you cope, but you’d been wrong. 

“Uhuh…” Your mother says, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the bench; the fullness of her skirt swishes behind her in an echo of the movement. “Well, now that you’ve eaten half of the vine, maybe go outside? Mrs Kim has been asking where you are, I think she missed you almost as much as we did.”

Your brows furrow, “Wait, which Mrs K—”

“Off you go, sweetheart!” 

You don’t even get to finish whatever you were saying because your mother moves into the kitchen solely to chase you out of it. You drag your feet as she herds you out— or at least, you do before she reaches for the kitchen towel by the oven and starts twisting it.

“I’m going!” you promptly flee after grabbing a handful of grapes to-go, holding up a proverbial white flag. Your mother is a little too good at turning mundane household items into a weapon. Now she’s put the fear of god back in you, you find yourself thinking that it’s no wonder your father has always been so well-behaved compared to the stories some of your friends would tell you about their own parents.

It’s a beautiful day, really. It’s part of the reason you were annoyed at yourself for hiding inside, even if it was only for about half an hour. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and while the sunlight warms your skin there is a cool breeze every so often that keeps you from overheating. Some of your younger cousins are in the pool, and have probably been there since around ten minutes after they arrived an hour or so ago. You’d barely gotten a hug in greeting before they were off, the backyard pool held a little more favourably in their eyes for the moment than their own flesh and blood.

They’re cute, though, so you decide that perhaps just this once you will let them get away with it. You’re going to rain down a storm of kisses on them before they leave, though. No one ignores you for an inanimate object and gets away with it!

As you exit the house and step beneath the sun, the skin of your arms and lower legs warming instantly, you just barely manage to dodge as one of your cousins comes bolting past you, followed barely a second later by his mother, your aunt, who is hotter on his heels than you might have anticipated for a woman her age.

“Jackson! You better get back here with those patties, boy, or you’re gonna regret it!”

You know you shouldn’t laugh, because it will encourage the bad behaviour, but the sight is so funny you just can’t help the way you burst into giggles, shaking your head and turning in the direction of the large gazebo that is rooted by the pool and is currently sheltering most of the guests from the sun. A quick scan also reveals that the lady of the hour, your sister, is over there too. Your eyes narrow when they catch sight of the champagne glass in her hand; hopefully she’s forgotten any and all things you’ve told her in confidence recently, or else they’re about to become public knowledge.

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!” 

You pause in your steps, turning just in time to catch in your arms the plate of small pastries your mother shoves into your hold. 

“Wh—” you don’t get to question her, as she simply flashes you a bright grin and nods her head to the table. “Take these over there, will you? And make sure Jin and Joon get some, I made their favourite!”

And then she is off, shooting back into the house and leaving you on the grass. At the delicious smell that wafts up to your nose, you send a cursory look down at the plate and hum in recognition,ignoring the way your mouth salivates. Ah, these are their favourites. This plate probably won’t last very long when you bring it over there. 

You’re on your way once more, now with the plate of sweets in tow, and the closer to the gazebo you grow you catch the sound of the radio, on one of the channels most popular with the youth and playing one of Lisa’s favourite songs. She’s dancing, dragging her friend Rose with her, giggling like a madwoman as she does so. It brings a smile to your face without you even realising. 

“Oh, y/n! There you are! Where have you been? We thought you might have gotten lost!”

Your attention is drawn to the side of the gazebo closest to the pool, where a few people are lounging in the chairs there, beers and glasses with clear, bubbling contents that you can only assume is gin and tonic on the table and in hand. The older woman who called you over with such a teasing tone is Mrs Kim— well, one of them. Both the Kims are here, and you realise belatedly that of course, their sons are too. It was Seokjin’s mother that noticed you, and as you make your way over you see Namjoon’s mother next to her, and the two men in question in the lounging chairs opposite. They seem to light up at your arrival, and you try not to think about the way their reaction makes your stomach flutter. You aren’t here for them, you’re here for their mothers! 

“Sorry,” you apologise, leaning and placing the plate down on the small table in the middle of the seats. Straightening, you dust your hands against the patterned skirt you have buttoned over your matching swimsuit. “I did get a bit lost, there’s so many kids here right now I thought I might have turned up in the wrong house.”

Both women erupt into laughter at your words, and you take the opportunity to smile at Jin and Namjoon, offering a timid wave. They return it, before following your finger as it points to the plate and they realise you’ve brought them their favourite baked goods.

“Cinnamon scrolls!” Namjoon croons, material of his navy button-up creasing as he hastily leans forward to swipe one off the plate. “And they’re shaped like little fish, like she always used to do! I can’t believe your mother made them today.”

“Of course,” you say, snorting lightly. “She’d do anything for her two favourite sons. She made it because they’re your favourites.”

The two of them beam in pride at that, before proceeding to consume the plate of sweets.

“Ah, and she sent you too, sweet y/n! Our favourite daughter! And even more stunning than I remember, right Soo-ah?”

Seokjin’s mother, Jia, hastily reclaims the conversation and succeeds in making you flush pink at her words. Jisoo, Namjoon’s mother, instantly nods, her short curls bouncing with the action, and shoots you a devious grin. 

“It’s been so long since we saw you last, y/n. You didn’t get a husband while you were away, right? We still want you as our daughter-in-law, you know.”

This time it’s not only you that feels the embarrassment heat your cheeks— to your side, both men choke on the mouthful of scroll they’d been in the process of devouring, Seokjin’s face going bright red as he brings his fist to hit his chest and attempts to dislodge the pastry. Amongst his own struggling, Namjoon reaches to smack his friend on the back, clearing his own throat.

“Ah, no…” you say, awkward and smoothing your skirt to distract yourself; it feels like the eyes of the entire party are on you, despite the fact you know better. “I’ve just been focusing on school…”

“Oh, tell me, dear, do you still do those wonderful paintings? I still have that one you gifted me for my birthday before you left.”

Namjoon follows up on his mother’s question, shooting you a smile that somehow is a combination of both bashful and proud. It makes a dimple pop in his cheek. “She still has it displayed above the dining table, actually. She nearly killed me when I almost knocked it by accident a few days ago.”

Jisoo doesn’t even bat a lash, smiling at you brightly— though a bit drunkenly, if the almost-finished glass in her hand is anything to go by. You’re surprised— you know from all the dinner parties your three families held over the years that despite their petite stature and classy, ladylike countenance,  both Kim women can outdrink their husbands and your father. You wonder just how much they must have had already to have such silly grins on their faces.

“I do!” You answer, feeling your chest warm in affection. It was silly to have ever doubted it, but it made you feel somewhat eased to know that you haven’t lost your place in their lives despite your departure. “But, actually, while away I actually took up sculpting. I’ve been doing that a bit more…”

“Oh, are you talking about your works, sweetheart? Ah Jisoo, Jia— they’re absolutely wonderful! I have photos that she brought, here let me go get them—”

You feel heat flush to the tips of your ears, greeting the arrival of your mother with an embarrassed look. “Alright, let’s not bash ears about it—”

“Oh!” Jia and Jisoo perk up at your mother's exclamation, and you shrink into your seat as you watch her reach into one of the hidden pockets in her skirt and pull out a handful of small photos that you’d printed to show her. Your hubris seems to have come to nip you in the bottom. “I forgot I popped them in my pocket to show you earlier! Here, see— isn’t she just so talented? My baby girl must have been the absolute queen of her department.”

All three parents are oblivious to the way you’re shrinking into your seat in mortification, but Seokjin and Namjoon are anything but. They’re grinning at you, relishing in your discomfort much like they used to. 

“Hey, y/n, could you get us another drink? I’d go get it, but your mother actually told me earlier I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen until she’s finished with the pastries…”

You shoot him a grateful look, shooting to your feet and slipping out of the little seating area. “Yup, doing that! Getting drinks! Be right back, don’t wait up!”

Though you doubt any of the adults heard you, they didn’t wait anyway. In fact, in the time it took you to head into the kitchen and bring back three drinks on a tray, your mother has since downed her glass and has started on another topic of conversation. Thankfully, the victim is no longer you. 

“Oh, Namjoon, where are your peepers?!” Your mother gasps suddenly as you return, pointing at the man beside you. There’s the barest slur accenting her words, and you resign yourself here and now to a night of loose-lipped blabbering from both your sister and your mother. “I’m not goin’ crazy am I? You used to run into things all the time when you were a kid ‘cause you were blind as a bat!”

Namjoon winces, but Seokjin bursts into laughter. Glad for the conversational shift, you take one of the last remaining chairs and settle down, your own drink now in hand. Namjoon reaches for the refill you had brought him, using the opportunity to hide his face, and only when Jin has settled down does he manage to wipe his eyes and claim his own glass.

“I’m tryin’ out something new,” Namjoon answers after a hearty gulp, clearing his throat. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck bashfully. “Lenses, I think they’re called. They’re convenient, especially when I’m performing, but they’re expensive and so dang fragile I’m gonna need to take out insurance on them or somethin’.”

“Isn’t this your last set?” Seokjin queries knowingly, laughing as Namjoon grimaces. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in the peepers you know and love by the end of the week. If he doesn’t break them, he loses them.”

You half expect Namjoon to be irked but he just sighs with a small smile, apparently having made peace by now with the clumsiness and two left feet that have haunted him since childhood.

Your mother decides to tease Namjoon a little more, before she changes the topic and starts gushing about their career, and how she can hardly go a day or two without hearing one of their songs on the radio. All three women are beaming with pride, and though slightly bashful about it you can see Namjoon and Seokjin’s chests swell slightly. 

Lisa, the star of today’s show, happens to walk by right when your mother is interrogating them about where they’ve chosen to settle down for the meantime, and eagerly joins the conversation.

“Ah, cool cats like you must be absolutely rolling in dough by now! How many mansions do you have already?” Lisa laughs, looking for a free seat and simply sitting on you when she doesn’t find one. She’s quite a bit heavier than you remember, and you feel your breath wheeze out of you at her abrupt drop onto your legs. 

“Unfortunately, none,” Namjoon laughs, gesturing to his mother, “Though, the pressure is on. I think ‘Ma wants a nice place to retire before my career is over.”

Jisoo takes a sip to hide her sheepish grin, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her skirt afterwards. Seokjin lets out a soft chuckle before he turns to your mother and answers the question she’d asked earlier.

“We have a sweet pad back in the fat city, actually. We both were leanin’ to the same penthouse with the best view but in the end decided to compromise and split it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you mother exclaims, eyes alight. The last time she’d looked this excited was when you told her you were staying for the whole week. “It’s so good to hear that the two of you stuck together even though you’re such big news now!”

Guilt. You bring your glass to your mouth and take a large gulp in an effort to drown it, the tart fizz of gin and tonic barely disguising the familiar curl of guilt in your gut.  Perhaps if you ignore it, it will go away. 

“Oh, speaking of— that latest record the two of you released together, it really does razz my berries like nothin’ else!” Lisa gushes, throwing a hand out to wriggle her fingers for emphasis. “It’s real hip and different from all your other tracks. Trust you two to be settin’ trends!”

Starting to get slightly tipsy now from the generous downing of your drink, you can’t help how you chime in with little thought,  “Oh, I really do love that one. It’s perfect to dance to.”

“A dance?” Lisa queries, turning to pin you with a confused look over her shoulder. You realise your slip up in that moment, when you glance to the side and see both men looking at you with unreadable expressions.  “It’s a bit slow for a dance, I think.”

“You can dance to anything,” Namjoon swoops in and unknowingly saves you, shrugging nonchalantly. The expression that was present on his face earlier is gone now, but it takes a split second longer to fade from Seokjin’s features.

Sinking into your chair as much as you can with Lisa’s weight pinning your legs down, you bring the glass to your mouth once more. 

Slip-up aside, you can only hope it won’t be as difficult to get through this party as you thought. 

 x - x - x

The day has progressed nicely and as daylight begin to bleed into night, your father emerged to help man the barbecue and dinner was served —  it was a somewhat rowdy affair, given how much alcohol the party had consumed up until that point. After eating their fill, most of your relatives and small cousins went home — they have a strict bedtime to uphold, after all. You made good on your promise to smother the little ones in kisses as they left, and it was with pink cheeks and bright grins that they bid you farewell. 

It’s getting well into the night at this point, and only a few guests are left. Lisa is inside with a cluster of her friends and her fiance, your mother and the Kims are underneath the gazebo with their husbands— this has left you by the pool with Namjoon and Seokjin. They’d gotten a little bold earlier and when you’d teased them about something, you’d had an unceremonious reunion with the pool. It was startlingly similar to what occured right before your mother took that photo hanging in your room, and made an odd mixture of affection, nostalgia, and something a little bit bittersweet settle in your abdomen. 

Just as it had the other time you’d met with the two, any tension and awkwardness had quickly melted away as the evening progressed. A few drinks in your systems and anything and everything is now water under the bridge. All too easily the three of you had fallen back into the same comfortable, playful air that you’d always known—

That you’d missed so much.

You’re lounging now in one of the rubber duck-shaped floaties your mother bought recently (she’d made you blow it up, gushing all the while about what a bargain she’d gotten on it and the companion swan floatie). Your head is more than pleasantly fuzzy, and you decide as you finish this glass that perhaps you’re done drinking for the night. You kick your legs lazily, feeling the heavy material of your skirt swish in the water as you propel yourself around the pool. Normally, the skirt is meant to come off before you take a dip. However given the nature of your entry into the pool, you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discard it. 

“No, no— I remember it cleary— clearly.” Seokjin waves his hand, finger pointing at Namjoon— the man in question is cackling in the deep end, falling off the swan floatie that he was attempting to climb onto. Both men are at the point in the night where they are beginning to slur their words, and to be fair you’re not much different. You’d lost count of how many times either of them have slipped up in their words.  “It wasn’t me who fell and broke y/n’s coffee table. From what I remember, it was your buttocks that hit it.”

“But you pushed me!” Any attempts on Namjoon’s behalf to hide his grin and even pretend to be angry prove to be fruitless. He has the same dumb dimpled grin on his face that you remember from your teen years. “It was uncalled for, assault!”

“You!” Seokjin’s mouth drops open, his legs kicking in the pool in his outrage. Namjoon’s eyes almost disappear as he cackles, throwing his head back. It melds into the sounds of the festivities over by the gazebo, where the radio and Lisa’s own gleeful laughter echo into the night. “y/n can confirm, it was Joon, right?!”

You put your arms behind your head, pretending to lounge back on the floatie despite how tentative your position is on the slippery rubber. “I don’t recall, suddenly I can’t think.”

“Yah!”

Your jubilant laughter means that you don’t see it when Seokjin slips completely into the pool, diving beneath the water to where you’re lounging and coming up beneath you. A scream rips from your throat as you're flipped from the floatie, tumbling backwards and into the water with a hefty splash to boot.

When you come back up, gasping breaths above the surface turning into laughter, it takes a moment for realisation to reach you through the sluggish fog in your brain that your skirt has detached. Still laughing, you catch sight of it and reach for it where it’s floating across the pool, recognising the sound of the two males guffawing behind you. When you slip on the bottom of he pool for a moment and get water up your nose, you decide that perhaps it’s time for you to call it a night soon.

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

When you slip again, a strong arm catches around your waist like an iron bar, holding you to the surface. Blinking the water out of your lashes, you turn to see the owner; the breath is startled out of you as your gaze meet the dark depths of Seokjin’s own. His hair is still dripping, an inky wayward mess atop his head, and the t-shirt he’d donned as he first entered the pool so long ago is clinging to each line and plane of his body. 

For a moment, yearning and a feeling all too familiar takes up the space of your lungs, and you find that you can’t breathe. 

“I think… I think it’s time to call it a night,” you manage to say, a new kind of lightheadedness emerging to addle your thoughts. You turn, breaking the hold Seokjin’s gaze has on you to seek out the edge of the pool. You feel his eyes bore holes into you for a moment longer, before two hands come to grip your waist and he moves you through the water to the rim of the pool. 

“Probably for the best,” Seokjin says, grip tightening in a split-second of warning before he heaves you up and onto the brick that lines the poolside. Off-kilter and unexpecting of the movement as you were, you have to balance yourself with your legs, which almost end up smacking Seokjin in the side. Through your inebriation, you don’t realise the way your thighs have parted in the process, the detached skirt in your hand doing little to cover you where it is laying sopping wet on the brick.  

“You’re being almost as clumsy as—” You’re also so busy trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach and find your bearings you also don’t notice the way Seokjin’s eyes move unwittingly down your form, falling to your thigh at eye-level. “...Namjoon.”

You blink, eyes finally focusing but heartbeat still thrumming in your ears.

“I don’t know if I will ever be that clumsy,” you manage to say, as comprehensible as possible. Seokjin’s hands leave your waist as you stumble to your feet, wringing out your skirt before attempting to button the drenched garment back up above your hips. 

“Hey!”

At Namjoon’s outcry, you grin and bring your hand up in a wave. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you drunkenly promise, completely forgetting that in a few days, you’ll be out of this town and out of their lives once more. “Goodnight, you two.”

They return the sentiment, and you grab a towel from one of the poolside chairs, wrapping it around yourself and making your way back in. You miss the way that their eyes follow you as you leave their sight and reenter the warmth and light of your home.

x - x - x - x

The night has drawn to a close, and the two men have long since climbed from the pool and dried off with the fluffy towels your mother so generously laid out for them before she got too tispy. A sharp look from their own mothers reminded them earlier that there are still plates to clear and things to tidy, so despite being guests they do their best amongst the alcohol-induced fog clouding their minds to help clean up the aftermath of Lisa’s engagement party. 

As they do so, the same thing is true for both of them: there is a lot on their minds.

Seokjin had to turn to Namjoon earlier to confirm what he’d seen, and when he saw the man in question already looking at him with wide eyes, he knew he hadn’t just drunkenly imagined it. They both saw it, the glimpse of a strikingly familiar picture peeking from the inside of your thigh. They’d seen that very same tattoo in the very same place just a few nights ago, only last time the owner had remained a masked mystery. Now, they’d glimpsed the same image on the body of their childhood friend, the girl they’d both fallen in love with and subsequently drifted apart over only years ago because they were young and jealous and stupid. But, things are different now; they’re now only two of those things, and after they made up over a year ago their friendship is stronger than ever, in… more ways than one.

But despite how much has changed over the years, there is still one thing that has remained constant; and that is their feelings for you.

Truthfully, after not seeing you for so long, they had started to think perhaps they were finally getting over you. Impossible as it had seemed, considering how smitten they were. A cold realisation washed over them the second they saw you again, though, that those feelings hadn’t disappeared like they had suspected, but simply remained dormant. Seeing you at the diner and finally getting to catch up after being apart so long, missing you so much, had pretty much cemented that. When they’d returned to their hotel room after, they didn’t need to say a word and only shared a look to know they had both come to the same conclusion.

They were both irrevocably, pathetically, undoubtedly still in love with you, even after all these years. 

Then had come the show.

It was the reason they’d returned to this town, technically. An important friend of theirs had invited them both to celebrate the success of their latest record and talk about future opportunities; the location happened to be a club currently hosting a highly regarded burlesque set. They’d felt the second the final masked performer had come on stage that there was something odd, something special about her. She had used their song, on her thigh had been a tattoo that tickled something in the back of their minds, and there was something in the way she moved that had been so jarringly familiar, but neither had been able to pin where they had seen her before.

Until tonight, that is.

It hadn’t been an intentional reveal on your part, but there on your thigh had been the exact same tattoo they’d glimpsed in the club, and they’d known the second they saw it that it wasn’t a common design. At first, on the night, Seokjin thought that it might have struck them because it was drawn similarly to how you always used to doodle moons on all of your schoolbooks, and now it all made sense. 

The only thing left to consider is, what do they do now that they know?

“Oh, my boys— my precious, helpful, lovely boys!”

The two men turn in tandem, easily catching sight of your mother as she stumbles her way over to them. They were in the process of moving some of the plates to the kitchen before they heard her drunken cooing, and Seokjin finds himself thanking the heavens they’d put them down quickly because in the next second your mother is throwing her arms around them and they’re being yanked down to her height from the sheer strength of her grip.

“I missed you two, we all missed you two,” she blubbers, hugging them close like she’s worried they might slip away into the night the second she loosens her hold. A second shy of suffocating them, she finally releases her grip, and they straighten with warm faces. Namjoon knows without even having to check that he’s got a real goofy grin on his mug right now. 

“We missed you too,” Seokjin says, and he means it. Your family and Namjoon’s family are both pretty much his own at this point, and he’d found himself missing every single member while he was away. Each time he returned home, he was sure to visit the other two houses at the end of the cul-de-sac, though the times he’d been able to actually make his way back to his home town were unfortunately few and far between. The same is the case for Namjoon, as he knows, except likely a bit worse since he knows Namjoon has always been a real Mummy’s boy.

“But I doubt it was as much as we missed you!” Your mother argues, and it makes both men smile. The next few words to escape her mouth knock the expression straight off their faces, though.  “y/n especially. Oh, I remember she was so heartbroken when you three started growing apart. I think part of the reason she left was to get away from it. The way she used to talk about you boys…” Her gaze slips to the side, eyes slightly hazy in recollection. “I thought for sure that she was going to end up marrying one of you.”

They don’t even get a good second to unpack that, before the haze leaves your mother’s eyes and she is giggling, leaning forward with a cheeky glint in her eyes that they know for sure they’ve seen in your own. She brings her hand up to shield her mouth as she whispers in a voice that is not at all as quiet as she likely thinks it is, “It’s a bit improper, but I think she used to like both of you.”

Namjoon chokes on his own spit, and Seokjin’s mouth falls slack. “What?”

Your mother merely giggles, leaning back and spinning on her heel. “Thank you so much for your help, boys, but you ought to be on your way! Your mothers are about to head home and neither of them are walking in a very straight line.”

She halts, turning over her shoulder to shoot them a wide grin. “I’m glad you two came. Thank you.”

And then she is gone, and a blanket of silence falls over the kitchen. Seokjin and Namjoon turn their heads, locking gazes. 

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

 You swear there is something odd in the air of the club this evening. 

It’s something subtle, and none of the other girls seem to have noticed it; they continue as always, tittering away in the dressing rooms and giggling amongst themselves when one of them makes a joke that probably shouldn’t be repeated outside the room. It’s the last night you will be performing here, and also the last night you will be staying. You were planning on making a quick visit home tomorrow morning to say farewell to your parents and congratulate your sister once more, before being on your way. You hadn’t decided yet whether you were going to go out of your way to track down Seokjin and Namjoon to say goodbye to them as well, but the idea of it… well, it sets your belly alight with nerves. You have no idea what you would say, and you know — you know— in your gut that doing it would revive the elephant in the room that you’ve all been ignoring up until now. 

But if you don’t, then you’ll be doing the exact same thing you did last time, and this time around you don’t know if you’ll get their forgiveness, let alone deserve it. 

By this point in the evening, you’ve already slipped into your costume and powdered your face. Since you wear a mask while on stage, you don’t really need to apply any heavy makeup around your brows and eyes; you usually settle for accentuating them naturally. 

Mina has disappeared since you last saw her, which is odd since she usually lingers to talk your ear off about any handsome faces she might spy in the crowd as the room beyond the stage begins to fill. You’d started to look for her earlier, seeking a distraction from the depressing inner monologue you have running, but hadn’t managed to find her. This means that for the past half hour or so you’ve been left to your own devices, fiddling with different parts of your dress and costume like a child twiddling their thumbs in the principal’s office. Part of that time, you spend trying to ignore the events of last night and any feelings that may have resurfaced as a result of your return to this town. For the rest of it, you attempt to think about what you’re going to do tomorrow when the rapidly-approaching hour comes when you have to leave again. God, where on earth did Mina get off to? You’re going insane here.

Oddly enough, it’s her that finds you a few minutes before the show is set to start. By this point, it’s a wonder you haven’t torn your hair out of it’s meticulous styling.

“Where did you pop off to?” you ask her before she even has a chance to say hello. She raises her brows, laughing at your rapid questioning. 

“Big boss wanted me for something,” she supplies, cocking her hip and resting a hand there. “Actually, I was asked to pass on a message to you.”

The confusion must be evident on your face, because Mina is quick to wave her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad— though it is a bit odd. He just asked me to tell you to meet him in one of the private rooms in the VVIP section. I think it was the very last one…?”

That is odd, considering she’d apparently just come from meeting him. Private shows aren’t something you do, so you can’t think of a reason why the big boss would ask you to meet him there. 

“Huh, ok. So soon before the show…?” you ask, just to be sure. You don’t have your mask on you right now, so you need to calculate how long it’s going to take you to return and get it. Mina shrugs, nodding. 

“I suppose so. Don’t worry,” she smiles, something indecipherable yet oddly devious entering her gaze. “You won’t be there long enough to mess anything up. The show will go on, Miss Luna.”

You could almost swear there is something hidden in her words, but don’t have the time or the thought to dwell on it. Instead you return her smile and turn to be on your way; the VVIP rooms are on the other side of the establishment, and you don’t want to keep the big boss waiting. You’d only met him once, the owner of this club, and he didn’t strike you as anything in particular. The only thing you’d thought to note is that he smoked perhaps a few too many cigars, because his office was almost always filled with curling, coiling smoke that leaked into the hall  each time you moved past. But he was quite mild-mannered and polite as far as men in this business go, so you’re not particularly concerned for your wellbeing as you make your way to meet him.

It takes a little longer than anticipated, since you ran into one of your co-performers and they cornered you for help with their outfit, but finally you’re arriving in the second-floor wing that houses the VVIP rooms. Instantly, it’s evident where you are. The carpet is a little more plush, the wallpaper a little more maintained, and the hall decorated a little nicer than the rest of the place. Spotting the room on the end, you make your way down there and knock on the door thrice before grasping the handle and easing it open.

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat before it even has a chance to reach the tip of your tongue, feet freezing mid-step as your eyes fall upon the occupants of the room. For once, you don’t have any sort of instinct that kicks in to save you; you simply stand and stare with wide eyes.

“Took you long enough, bubs.” Seokjin straightens from where he had been leaning back against the plush crimson leather of the circular lounge. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

A myriad of thoughts suddenly flood the blank space in your brain, all in contention with each other. Oh no, they’ve seen you— no, you have a mask, they don’t know who you are— no, you don’t have your mask—

Dressed in your performing attire and standing before Seokjin and Namjoon, in one of the VVIP rooms in the club where they attended your show, you aren’t a faceless dancer. You’re y/n, and it feels like they can see every single bit of you there is to see.

You don’t even know where to begin.

“I…” You attempt to say something, anything, but your tongue has suddenly turned to lead in a pact with your stomach, sinking down and refusing to dance for your words.

It takes you a moment to realise as you watch them straighten, but neither of them look surprised. It leads you to believe that somehow they figured it out on their own, though you have no idea how. You don’t really have the presence of mind to ask them right now, either. In fact, it could even be argued that you’re almost panicking.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon speaks up, offering you a smile that holds neither judgement nor disdain. “We wanted to catch you before you inevitably skipped town without saying goodbye.”

That stung, just as much as the guilt that struck you for the truth of his words. You’d been contemplating it, leaning towards it even, but suddenly you feel you have to defend yourself. 

“I hadn’t decided that yet,” you say quietly. You let the door fall shut behind you, silently acquiescing to the unspoken demand weighing heavy in the air.

“Don’t lie.”

Your eyes shoot even wider, if possible, at the sound of Seokjin of all people snapping at you. His tone was sharp, and you half expect him to look furious, but when your eyes flick to his face it gives nothing away. When he continues in the next second, though, you see it in the depths of his eyes. Hurt.

“We used to tell each other everything, back then.” It could have been a trick of your mind, but you swear you heard his voice break slightly. “I don’t want that to change. So no lies tonight, y/n. We’re going to talk as adults, openly and honestly.”

For reasons beyond you, something about the promise woven through his tone makes you nervous. A tremor fights to shudder its way down your spine; for a moment, you feel akin to a small, cornered forest animal, even though they are the ones sitting against a wall and you are in the open. You don’t know what to say. 

Namjoon steps in, saving you from fumbling for a response as he always seems to do. “You don’t have to stand there, ready to bolt, you know. You can come sit down.”

You shake your head, suddenly recalling your commitments outside this room and feeling relief flood you at the realisation that you have an excuse to remove yourself from this situation you’d tried so hard to avoid. “I can’t. I have to go p—”

“We already talked it over with your boss, he was happy to take you out of the performance tonight. It’s okay, the others know too.”

You deflate, looking at Namjoon with a sinking feeling in your stomach. He doesn’t hold your attention all that long, though, before the sound of Seokjin’s voice brings your gaze to him once more.

“Why did you leave? Without even saying goodbye, or telling us where you went?” You feel rooted to the spot, pinned first by the weight of Seokjin’s gaze and then his words as they slam into you, unfiltered. 

“Hyung.” You think you hear Namjoon murmur softly, giving the man next to him a pointed look. Seokjin is unphased, looking at you expectantly, “Be honest.”

It’s just as panic begins to seep into the bottom of your lungs that anger sparks and sets it alight, transmuting it to something red and hot in your chest. 

“You want me to be honest?” you ask, heat beginning to colour your voice and sharpen the tip of your tongue. “I left because of you— both of you. I don’t know if something happened between you or if I just wasn’t enough, or you felt I was holding you back, but you drew away and you left me. You both left me before I ever left you.”

You see it the second your words enter the air like a whip, the hurt and guilt slipping across their features. Anger bubbles in your throat, stings your eyes, and urges you to let loose everything else rising to the tip of your tongue, “I left because I couldn’t handle the pain of my two best friends slowly easing themselves from my life, like— like I was old news. Like I no longer had a place in that shiny, brand new world they’d stepped into.”

More rushes to escape, feelings kept bottled up tight for three years suddenly flooding forth with the force of a tidal wave, but you bite it down, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath that rattles through your chest. When you’re sure you have a firmer grasp on your emotions, you allow yourself to speak once more. “If an apology is what you want, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I’m sorry for my part in hurting you. But you… the two of you hurt me, too. You meant the world to me and when you pulled away you made me feel like nothing.”

Your eyes remain closed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you will yourself not to cry; silence sinks over the room, only broken as your ears adjust to the thin buzz of electricity thrumming through the walls. One moment, another-- you try and focus on breathing in, and breathing out.

“Something did happen between us, you know. We fought over you.”

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto Namjoon. He stands, dusting his legs as he straightens and adjusts his jacket. Slowly, like he’s worried he will spook you, he begins to step closer. “I’m sorry, y/n. We never meant to hurt you, and didn’t realise the way our immaturity was hurting you, too. You took up such a big part of our lives, and after you left it was painfully empty… when we saw you again this week, it was the first time we’d felt whole in years.”

Stunned, you’re rooted to the spot and can only watch as he comes close enough to touch, hands reaching for your own; faintly, you register the sound of Seokjin getting up from the couch as well. When he reaches your side, you risk a glance to his face and are surprised by the soft, remorseful expression resting upon his handsome features. 

“I’m sorry, bubs, for hurting you.” He lifts a hand, the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek. “You are irreplaceable to us, and we will always want you as a part of our lives. No one meant as much to us as you did then, and no one means as much to us as you do now. The two of you are my world, and I know the same goes for Joon.”

There’s something different hiding in the depths of his tone that makes your heart patter faster against the confines of your chest, something in the way they share a look so full of something warm that your own cheeks heat in response. Both of them… with each other, too? 

 “Why are you saying this?” Now, you meant to tack on. Why is he saying this now?

Namjoon’s eyes are warm as they meet your own. “Because we should have said it three years ago. Plus… we got a tip from an anonymous source that our feelings aren’t as unrequited as we once thought.” 

You don’t even need to wonder who it was that could have exposed such a thing; your mother had been mysteriously avoidant of your gaze this morning, almost knocking a few things off the bench in the extent of her effort to evade meeting your eyes.

“If nothing else, please just tell us before you go,” Seokjin implores, voice a low murmur. “Whether it was true then, or....”

You have a feeling you know what he was going to say: or even now. You’d known it the second you glimpsed them back in this town that those feelings you’d harboured for years and years weren’t ever going away. Even seeing them a handful of times has made your heart ache with the revival of your love and the magnitude at which it had bloomed once more in the tender soil of your being. The words rush to the tip of your tongue, but even now when the two objects of your affection have all but confessed to you, fear barrs them from leaving your mouth. Because it’s not appropriate, a voice murmurs it’s familiar tune, It’s so unlikely— what if you are just reading too much into it and are mistaken?

Honesty, Seokjin had requested. You take a deep breath before admitting the words that will seal your fate, for better or for worse.

“I did love you, then,” you say, catching it as they both seem to tense. “I should have known better than to think those feelings would just go away.”

It takes a moment, but soon both men are erupting into bright grins. In his glee, Namjoon folds you into his arms, smacking a soft kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips— the suddenness of the action brings a gasp to your lips, but you’re definitely not going to complain. Especially not when the way his mouth moves against yours lights something bright deep within you. 

You don’t get to enjoy the sensations for longer than a moment before Seokjin’s voice is parting the air, a completely different tone underlying his words than what you expect from seeing his stupid grin earlier.

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, little miss. “ You meet his gaze over Namjoon’s shoulder and a shudder shoots down your spine at the look in his eyes. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for, wouldn’t you say?” 

x - x 

Barely ten minutes and a private car ride filled with scandalous touches and even more scandalous noises later, you’re being pressed against the wall in the bedroom of the penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel your town has to offer. Namjoon’s mouth is on yours with a kiss so impassioned that it pulls the air from your lungs and the strength from your knees; you don’t even realise that the lights hadn’t already been on when you entered and it was Jin responsible for illuminating your path into the suite.

A part of you expects some internal resistance — it had been three years since you’d last seen them, before this week — but instead you’re simply overwhelmed with how right it feels. Soft, fluttery warmth like sun rays on a winter’s morning fills you up to the brim, the feeling so foreign you’re worried your heart might actually burst. 

Namjoon’s hands come to your hips, pressing them to the wall before sliding up to the dip of your waist. He isn’t overly bold in the way he moves his mouth against yours, but it makes a whine build in your chest nonetheless. A part of you disagrees with it, and when you recall that you’re still here dressed in the costume that usually gives you the power over men, you push back and turn the two of you around. 

When his own back meets the wall, the softest gasp escapes Namjoon’s mouth and you swallow it down, your hands coming to cup his jaw. You take the lead in the kiss and he doesn’t put up a fight, grip tightening on your sides as he holds you closer. 

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

An unwitting squeak escapes you as two large hands find purchase on your waist and you’re pulled apart from the man panting against the wall. You blink and before you know it Seokjin has you falling onto something so plush and soft you know immediately it’s a bed. Your eyes are quick to find Seokjin’s, and the raven-haired male shoots you a stern look that is only contradicted by the heady mixture of affection and lust in his gaze.

“You don’t get to call the shots tonight,” he informs you simply, striding closer to where you’re laying on the bed and tugging on the string that holds your silken gown together. It’s designed to come undone, and so it’s no surprise that at the lightest pull the silk is sliding off your body, revealing the outfit you’d paraded on the stage before them barely a few nights ago. Faintly, you register the bed dipping behind you, but your attention is otherwise occupied when Seokjin reaches for the bedside table and retrieves something long and black. 

“Her wrists?” Namjoon asks, unknowingly answering the question you had forming in your head. Seokjin nods, tossing the tie  to him. Your gown is slipped from your shoulders completely, sheer petticoat ruffling as you’re scooted backwards until you feel the firmness of Namjoon’s chest against your back and Seokjin is sliding between your legs, in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Do you know what you did to us when we saw you that night?” Seokjin asks, voice smooth as honey. It’s a struggle to remain focused on his words when Namjoon brings your hands together in front of you where you’re propped against him, beginning to bind them a little too expertly with the tie Seokjin had passed him. Your heart beats a little faster, thighs trembling as heady anticipation whirls within you. “What you do to us?”

“Just seeing you was already dangerous enough,” Namjoon murmurs, husky tone brushing the shell of your ear. “But you danced to our song, the song we wrote for you. It’s like you knew what it would do to us…”

It makes something swell in your chest, the confirmation that they had written that song for you. You catch something fond flick through Seokjin’s gaze before he tuts, shaking his head. He pushes your now-tied hands up and over your head, back until you feel the side of your thumbs grazing the back of Namjoon’s neck. Lips brush your neck, eliciting a shiver that Seokjin eagerly drinks in. Long, deft fingers work to undo the top part of your corset, the cushioned bandeau, and slip it from your form. You can visibly see it as his eyes darken, drinking in the sheer bralette barely supporting your breasts. You also know the second he glimpses the tassels pressed beneath, because his teeth sink into his lip and he takes in a sharp breath. 

Namjoon’s wandering hands come to trace the underside of your chest, breath catching in your throat when he takes their weight into his hold and kneads. Warmth shoots to your core, the hints of pleasure curling your toes. You feel breathless as they work in easy tandem, Seokjin slipping your petticoat over your legs and Namjoon removing your bralette. You shiver once your chest is bare, not from the cold but from the intensity and the weight of their gazes as you feel them fall upon you. 

“Leave her corset,” Seokjin instructs, flicking one of your tassels and eliciting a yelp. He settles back further between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs; his gazes falls upon the tattoo on the inside of your leg and the corner of his lips curls up. 

The plush of his lips presses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, the sensation tingling along your nerves. He doesn’t comment on the picture, but when his mouth touches where it is inked into your skin you feel your heart skip a beat nonetheless. 

Your mind is pulled from the sensation of fingers slipping beneath the edge of your panties when Namjoon’s fingers play with the tassels attached to your nipples, tugging and pulling and eliciting all sorts of heady sensations that make your thighs shake. “Joon,” you breathe, something else resting on the tip of your tongue only to be replaced with a whine when Namjoon pulls a little harder, soft open-mouthed kisses pressed to the sensitive column of your neck.

It’s like all of your nerves are alight at once, each touch and brush of their skin against yours heightened and making your heart race and your breath come a little quicker. Seokijn quickly slips your panties off, but leaves the pantyhose and garter belt. His eyes drag a trail of heat up your body, halting where Namjoon has begun to suck marks onto your neck like an artist decorating a canvas. For a moment he is mesmerised, and you can’t help the words that slip from your lips.

“You like what you see?” You ask, curving your back ever so slightly to emphasise your position. Seokjin pins you with an unreadable look, jaw ticking for a moment. 

“Very much so,” he answers, pulling away from you for a moment. He reaches behind him, retrieving something you hadn’t even noticed before now, and when you realise what it is he has in his hand you feel your stomach simultaneously drop and flip in excitement. His eyes meet yours for a moment, an unspoken question whether what he is about to do is okay, and had it been anyone else you know you would have refused, but you trust him. You trust them. You offer him a small nod and you receive the smallest smile in return before he is bringing the camera up to his eye and lining up his shot. 

Flash. Click. The camera isn’t as bulky as you’re used to, and you figure it must be one of the newer models you are far too poor to afford. One picture seems to be enough for him for now, but you know as he places it well to the side that it won’t be the only appearance it makes tonight. 

“Just in case you decide to fly the coop on us again,” he says, a sly look on his face. You scoff, knowing that he’s joking, and hold up your hands, still bound. 

“Like this? Not likely.”

He chuckles, and you feel Namjoon’s chest rumble with a soft laugh against your back as well. The lighthearted moment is over as quick as it arrives as Seokjin settles back between your legs and hardly waits for you to orient yourself before dipping his head down and delivering a broad swipe of his tongue up your slit.

“F— Jin!” you yelp at the sudden shock of pleasure, wriggling in Namjoon’s arms slightly; he nips at your skin in light reprimand, and Seokjin lifts his head only for a moment to scold you with a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

“Careful now, bubs,” he cautions, delivering a small kitten lick to your clit between utterances. “We might have the penthouse but there are still people below us.”

Surprisingly— or perhaps unsurprisingly, when taking the rest of your life and profession into account — the idea of being heard has the opposite effect on you than one might expect. You bite your lip, tipping your head back as Namjoon’s fingers begin to play with you once more and Seokjin begins to bury his face between your legs in earnest. 

It gives you a bit of whiplash, when you think about it; you don’t think you ever would have expected to end up here, in this situation. Crushes or no crushes, you hadn’t even expected to see them again let alone become the meat in a famous musician sandwich. 

It’s almost shameful how quickly the heat and pressure builds within you, Namjoon managing to tug the tassels off completely to roll your flushed buds between his fingers. The noises that sound from Seokjin’s ministrations between your legs are so downright lewd you can feel your face flush with heat, your thighs trembling either side of his head. You attempt to keep your own moans and whines in until Seokjin delivers a smack to your thigh and sends you a warning look. 

Just when you think you might be about to reach your peak, Seokjin stops, pulling back and licking your cream from his lips. The look you send him must be devastated, because he looks absolutely smug. 

“Now, this isn’t just about you,” Seokjin says, carding a hand through his hair before he finishes undoing his shirt and slips it from his form. Your breath catches at the sight of his sculpted torso, and the ink that decorates it in pretty splotches of imagery. You feel so ridiculously naughty, finding the tattoos on him as attractive as you do, and you’re aware of the irony but you just can’t help it. Seokjin could manage to make a potato sack look good. “Hasn’t Joonie been good? Been making you feel so good, with nothing in return? I think we should pay him back.”

It’s all the warning you get before you’re flipped over, braced on your elbows and knees. There is rustling before something plush is slipped beneath you, and Seokjin lowers you down between Namjoon’s legs with the pillow propping your hips up for him to continue where he left off.

Dazed from the sudden shift and beginning to lose yourself to the feeling as Seokjin returns his mouth to your soaked centre, you tilt to meet Namjoon’s dark gaze and offer him a brief smile. You can’t deny, the angle you’re viewing him from is nice, especially as he wrangles his shirt off and you catch glimpses of firm abs and chest. Namjoon, too, has decorated his skin, and it’s somewhat ridiculous how viscerally you’re reacting to it but you really think you might be about to drool. 

The pleasure quickly beginning to build in you once more from Seokjin’s plush lips and agile tongue leaves you no room for pleasantries, “Can I suck you off, Joonie?”

You hear his breath catch before he tips his head back and lets out a soft groan. “Do you even have to ask?”

His response only fuels your eagerness, mouth beginning to feel empty when your face is so close to his crotch you can feel the heat of his body. Considering the state of your hands, Namjoon makes quick work of his belt and slacks for you, shimmying them down with his briefs just enough to let his member spring free, almost completely hard at this point. 

“Holy shoot, Joon,” you curse, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and lust. God, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone as much as you want these two men.  Namjoon shoots you a cheeky, if somewhat dazed, smile that makes his dimples pop out.

“It’s not just me you have to worry about.”

Well that’s a condemning statement if you ever did hear one, considering how you’re hoping this night will go. One of the more open and liberal girls that worked the show with you had once said “god gave me two holes for a reason, girls!” and right now you find you couldn’t agree more. 

You’re sick of your mouth being empty, you decide, and so you forego further foreplay and simply reach for his cock, taking the length into your hands and promptly enveloping his tip in the heat of your mouth.

“Fuck!” Namjoon swears loudly, thighs tensing against your shoulders. The yelp that escapes you as Seokjin smacks your ass melts into a moan that elicits a throaty noise from Namjoon, as well.��

You press and drag your tongue along the underside of his length, gradually working your mouth lower and lower until your nose is brushing the dark patch of curls across his pubic bone, a surprisingly pleasant mixture of musk melding with his cologne and brushing your senses . Even without the pleasure flooding your nerves from Seokjin’s tongue and the way he latches his lips around your clit, the deep, throaty noises tumbling from Namjoon’s mouth are reward enough. Since your hands are bound, your mouth has to do most of the work; when you sink down enough that his tip bumps the back of your throat, you do your best to fight your gag reflex from kicking in fully. 

Namjoon swears once more, just barely stopping himself before it gets too reminiscent of a sailor’s vocabulary. The sensation of your throat constricting around the head of his member makes his hips twitch and buck up ever so slightly, his hands winding into the hair at the nape of your neck. Struggling to keep on task through the haze in your mind, you do your best to build up a rhythm that has Namjoon’s abdomen trembling from the effort of keeping his hips still.

In tandem, the two of you seem to be rapidly approaching your highs— unfortunately for you, that same attention to detail that makes Jin’s ministrations so mind-numbingly good is what alerts him to that fact. Right when you feel yourself tense up in the prelude to your orgasm, Seokjin rips his mouth away, the bed shifting behind you. “Not yet, bubs.”

You can’t help the whine that sounds from your throat, the vibrations making Namjoon jerk.

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click. 

Another whine, different in tone this time, escapes you at the knowledge that Seokjin has added another filthy memory to his collection. 

“Joonie, you better not cum until I say so. y/n, off.”

Namjoons nails scratch lightly against your scalp, almost making your eyes roll back as he whines lowly in protest. You know you should listen and do as Seokjin says, but you can’t help but push a little, taking your sweet time as you pull your mouth slowly from Namjoon’s length, sucking all the while. The noises that tumble from Namjoon’s mouth as a result are incriminating enough, and even though you knew Seokjin wasn’t going to let it slide it still comes as a surprise when there is a sharp, painful smack against the globe of your ass. It’s hard enough and loud enough that your back arches slightly, mouth leaving Namjoon with a pop so you’re free to cry out. 

“Jin!”

Seokjin’s hand is cool against the smarting flesh of your behind as he rubs soothingly over it, raising an eyebrow as you meet his gaze over your shoulder. “I told you off, bubs. Let’s not make me repeat myself.”

Somewhat petulant despite the giddy butterflies in the pit of your stomach, you allow him to grab you by the hips and yank you back with a pout, breathless with anticipation when you feel his fingers drag over the dips and curves of your body as though mapping them out. He makes you sit up, your back against his chest as he explores your front, drinking in each gasp and whine as he pinches and tugs your nipples and rolls them between the pads of his fingers. Down, down, down he goes— when his finger drags along your slit and slips over your swollen clit you cry out, unable to help the unwitting buck of your hips. 

“After all the effort I went to to clean you up, you’ve gone and made a mess again,” Seokjin murmurs, pillowy lips brushing the edge of your ear. You quiver in his hold as he rolls a lazy circle around your bud, thighs threatening to close around his hand. You’re suddenly aware of how empty you feel, surprised that you’ve almost orgasmed twice without even being penetrated. 

You try and cant your hips up, not above whining and begging at this point— if he denies you your high one more time you just might go insane. “Please, Jin, please—”

Namjoon, who had taken a moment to recover after almost blowing his load earlier, shifts forward on the bed to join the two of you. His lips find your neck, your jaw, until they finally meet your lips once more and he swallows your sinful noises down. 

“What, you want more? You want my fingers? Look at you. You want to be filled so badly you’re willing to rock against anything with a pulse...”

Heat flushes up your neck to your cheeks, Namjoon’s kiss muffling your whine; you hadn’t thought you would be one to fancy this sort of thing, but if the wetness gushing forth at his words is anything to go by then apparently you do. 

Namjoon parts from your lips, waiting until your eyes focus on him so that he can hold your gaze. “Baby girl,” he murmurs, voice rough. His hand slips down to join Seokjin’s, finger dipping ever so slightly into your slit. The true meaning of his question isn’t lost on you.  “Who do you want?”

You feel almost unhinged with how much raw, restless desire is coursing through you right now— you couldn’t have stopped your answer even if you’d wanted to. “Both… both of you…”

There is a moment of silence following your response, but you don’t have time to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. In the next second Seokjin is swearing lowly under his breath, pressing his lips to your throat to hide his groan.

“Joonie, bedside table. You’ll have to prepare her.”

You’ve never seen Namjoon move as fast as he did the second Seokjin spoke, flying from the bed; he’s back within seconds after retrieving something from the drawers to the side, placing them on the covers. A small rectangular tin and a slim bottle. 

When he sits, waiting eagerly with his cock still flushed and hard and bobbing from the movement, Seokjin turns you around in an abridged version of the way you were before. Taking note of the uncomfortable angle of your arms, he undoes the tie, but doesn’t discard it after slipping it from the reddened skin of your wrists.

With your ass now pointed in Namjoon’s direction, it isn’t long before his hands find purchase and your most intimate area is revealed to him.

“Fuck,” he swears, “You’re so wet, baby. We might not even need the extra help, hyung.”

“Use it just in case,” Seokjin instructs, before turning his attention to you. “Now, if you want to cum later I think you should earn it now, hm?”

Your hands were already moving towards his belt and fly before he’d started talking, but his words renew your vigour. When you free Seokjin’s crotch from the confines of his slacks and briefs, you quickly understand just what Namjoon meant earlier. Namjoon has length, but Seokjin is thick. You wrap your hands around him and can’t help but marvel at his size— you’re a little ashamed of how excited it makes you.

“Ah!” Your plans to engulf Seokjin’s cock in the heat of your mouth are interrupted by a sensation at your rear. You wiggle slightly, unable to help it. “That’s cold!”

Namjoon places a featherlight kiss to your cheek, thick, slippery finger beginning to ease into your hole now that it is sufficiently lubricated. Suddenly aware that your attention is in the wrong place, you do your best to hurry back to what you were doing before you earn yourself another smack. 

“Perfect, bubs.” The groan that rumbles from Seokjin’s throat in praise is so raspy and low that it makes a shiver roll down your spine. As teasingly as you dare, you’re suckling around the flushed head of his cock, feeling it twitch and throb in your hands in response. It’s already a tight fit in your mouth, you can feel your thighs quaking in anticipation as you imagine what it would feel like filling you up. The thought takes you by surprise.

Since when did you start thinking like such a wanton whore?!

Well, you suppose, there is no time like the present. 

Seokjin’s hand threads through your hair, his hips rocking ever so slightly; you watch the way the muscles in his abdomen undulate at the movement and fight to keep your saliva in your mouth as you begin to bob your head down his length. Considering his girth, it’s hard to keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, but you somehow manage; when the time comes that he reaches your throat you’re in a better condition than you were earlier for it, but it’s still a bit of a shock to the system.

“Oh my god,” Seokjin’s thighs quake for the slightest second against you. “Fuck. No wonder Joonie almost blew his load. Look at you. You do this often, huh? Look how well you swallow my cock…”

You moan around him, his words and the oddly pleasant sensation of Namjoon working his fingers in and out of your asshole melding into a pool of heat in your abdomen.  Your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus on making Seokjin feel good, and you’re only distracted by a muted flash behind your eyelids.

Click.

Another shot saved. You take Seokjin further into your mouth, trying to go as far back as you can without gagging. He doesn’t seem to mind the way your throat constricts around his length though, if the noises escaping his plush lips where they part are anything to go by. Namjoon gradually adds one finger after another, making sure you’re accustomed to the stretch at least a little before the next joins. By the time he has squeezed in three fingers and scissored them a few times, you find yourself shaking a bit from the sensations. It’s odd, different to what you’re used to, but oh even with the light burn that accompanies each finger it still feels so good. 

You’re so focused on the sensations that you don’t even realise the attention you’ve been giving Seokjin has strayed, lips sucking a little harder and your hand stroking a little tighter. The salty taste of precum coats your tongue and you have half a mind to be ashamed of the way it makes you long for more. It proves to be a little too much for Seokjin at once, though. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you gently off of him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Not yet, bubs,” he says, voice rough. His eyes are like magnetic pools as they draw you into their depths, their hold only broken when Namjoon slips a final finger in and you shut your eyes on instinct, mouth dropping open at the sensation. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

Namjoon’s voice makes your stomach flip, his free hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. You find yourself nodding before you even have the thought to do so, and with that Namjoon shifts on the bed behind you. Seokjin helps you move backwards, your eyes trained on his length somewhat longingly. There is the sound of something tearing softly behind you and you find yourself thankful that they took the initiative and you don’t have to ask them about protection.

You’re moved so that you’re straddling Namjoon’s hips with your back to him, still facing Seokjin. The two of them have since discarded their slacks and briefs  and are now presenting themselves in all their naked glory. Namjoon mutters a tender warning, informing you it might burn a bit, and you’ve heard of that but aren’t about to turn tail when you also know it’s going to feel so good after. You feel his tip press against your ass, alarmingly bigger than his fingers, and Seokjin helps ease you down slowly, inch by inch, with a firm grasp on your hips. 

True to the warning you’d received, it does burn; Namjoon had made sure there was more than enough lubrication for an easy glide, though, and by the time he has seated himself fully in you, you’re making noises you don’t think you ever have before. The line between heady pleasure and light pain is so blurred that you’re worried you might have fried your nerves at some point tonight. 

“Oh—” you take in a shuddering breath, shifting your hips ever so slightly and moaning in tandem with the man beneath you. “Joon…”

“Ride him,” Seokjin instructs, hands leaving your hips to reach for his camera once more. “Let’s make him feel good, hm?”

Who are you to say no? 

You pride yourself on having a lot of strength in your limbs, thighs especially, but still they tremble as you roll your hips up until just the tip of Namjoon’s cock remains in you, and then ease back onto him again. It takes a second before you realise the low moan you hear is coming from you, mind so addled with pleasure at this point you almost feel like you’re floating. Bracing yourself on your thighs, you do your best to set a rhythm and maintain it, ignoring the fatigue of your muscles and focusing on how good it feels and the noises tumbling from the man beneath you. 

When there is a sly touch against your swollen clit, you cry out loudly— Namjoon almost shouts at the way you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place for a moment. You look to Seokjin with wide eyes, panting slightly.

“Didn’t you wanna cum so badly, earlier?” he queries, fingers slipping down to slide through the slick mess around your entrance. You moan as he easily sinks two fingers in, pumping lightly. “Don’t stop, fuck yourself on my fingers, bubs.”

It feels so good you think you might tear up; obediently, you resume the pace you set earlier, now riding both Namjoon’s length and Seokjin’s digits. Each time you sink down he curls them, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this out before your legs become too akin to  jelly to support you.

The answer is: not much longer. Seokjin quickly grows tired of it when your movements slow, thighs trembling from the effort. With a hand to your stomach he pushes you back, shifting your legs so they’re folded with your feet flat against the covers. You scramble for purchase, Namjoon quickly supporting you from behind. 

Seokjin tuts, muttering playfully about having to do everything himself, and it’s all the warning you get before he adds another digit and begins to finger your sopping entrance so hard and good that for a moment your vision goes white.

“S-Seokjin!” you drop your head back, nails sinking into the bedding as he begins to curl his fingers into that delicious spot inside of you with each pump. You had been slowly but steadily climbing back up to the precipice of your orgasm earlier, but now you’re heading there at breakneck speed. Before you know it the coil of pressure is snapping inside you and you’re shaking, pleasure numbing your limbs and making you whine.

By the time your high fades and you tune back in to the moment, you quickly become aware of two things— one, that you’ve somehow managed to coat Seokjin’s whole arm in your fluids, and two, that Namjoon has gone so tense and still beneath you that you think you might have almost killed him.

“Good girl,” Seokjin praises, sucking your cream off the tip of his fingers before wiping the remaining excess on your thigh so he can reach for his own rubber. “Do you need me to wait another moment?”

Assessing your current state, you find yourself shaking your head. You might have thought you would be too sensitive to continue, but Namjoon is still fully seated in your ass and now your pussy feels too empty for you to bear. Seokjin is only too happy to fill that void. 

Nestled between your legs, when he lines his cock up at your entrance and begins to slide in, you all but lose the ability to think. You clench unintentionally from the sensation of being filled so completely, making both men groan and Seokjin halt in his movements. He waits until you relax again before continuing his motion. 

When both men are fully sheathed inside you, you think this really might be what bliss is. Soft, panting whines and moans tumble freely from your throat as Seokjin pushes your thighs to your chest and begins to set a mind-numbing pace. It’s borderline brutal, the way he slams into you and splits you open so hard and good; each time his hips hit home you feel your whole body jostle.

“You can move, Joonie,” Seokjin somehow manages to articulate, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead and dampen the strands falling over it. You don’t know how he can talk, because you know if you tried at this moment you’d likely end up biting off your tongue. 

You feel Namjoon shake his head, hair brushing the space between your shoulder blades. “‘m close,” he mumbles in explanation, a short moan following his words. “Wanna cum together.”

It’s such a sweet desire in the midst of such a lewd situation that you almost get whiplash between the swelling of your heart and the pleasurable ache filling your insides. You feel that he will get his wish soon, because despite your recent high you’re already well on your way to reaching it again— Seokjin’s hips have begun to stutter, too, and you know he isn’t far behind. 

It all reaches its peak when Seokjin slips his hand down, following the angle of your hip bone to your core and rolling your bud with his thumb. It proves to be too much for you, because in the next moment you’re letting out a loud train of expletives and clenching tightly around them as pleasure floods your system once more, mind absolutely blank. The tightness of your heat around them is their undoing and barely a moment after you reach your high they follow suit, the sounds tumbling from them borderline sinful against your ears. 

It takes a bit longer for you to come back to earth, this time. By the time you do, Namjoon is winding his arms around your waist and rolling to the side, taking you and Seokjin with him. You let out a noise of surprise that curls into a laugh, hands gripping his arms as you hit the bed; both men are still inside you, and while you secretly wish it could stay that way for a bit longer, you know you should probably clean up. 

“No,” Namjoon says before you even go to move, a pout in his tone as he buries his face in the back of your neck. Seokjin nestles closer, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. “Stay, just a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous request, especially considering the way your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy after the events of the night. For them, too, you can hear the way their breathing has already begun to even out. You couldn’t be mad if you tried, though, because just being here in their arms feels so right that you don’t ever want to feel anything else. 

“I guess we can nap…” you say, sounding tired enough that it elicits a chuckle from Seokjin. You let your eyes close, nestling your cheek against the top of Seokjin’s head and enjoying the light scent of his shampoo and cologne. You let out one last warning before you let yourself fall into the abyss, though. Just so they know who’s boss.

“If I see those photos anywhere near my house, Seokjin, it won’t just be me getting disowned.”

The laughter that tumbles forth in response just adds to the warmth flooding your being, and you let yourself relax, contented and truly happy for the first time in three years. 

[selinakidreams]

Hello my love can i please request that you follow up on this lovely work of art you deposited in my ask box? Ty ty

oh oh oh what is this? the lovely carter (and val- in spirit) dropping in my inbox and requesting for me (???????) to write,,,,,,,,,,, I’m honored and will happily accept.

I am so so so so so sorry this took me so long to write,, it’s been sitting in my drafts for weeks,,,, I hope this makes up for it 🥺 I tweaked it a bit and I think it works,,, better now ? hopefully !!

warnings: this is smutty, SLIGHT voyerism,  dubcon turned to con, p♥︎rn with like.. a dash of plot ? maybe ?, fem! reader, thigh riding, uh riding dick right after, LIGHT MENTIONS of fwb! Osamu,, ah ha haa — NO INCEST.

Dinners with the Miyas: a weekly tradition since... before you could remember. Once a week, you and your family would gather at the Miya’s house for a homemade feast.

In hindsight, it was a really nice way for two life-long best friends, both of your guys’ moms, and their loved ones to get together and catch up after a busy week- but as a girl dealing with a pair of twins a year older than herself, it was absolute hell. 

At first, you used to despise having to get properly dressed just to eat dinner with your family friends. All that effort and for what? You see them all the time at school already, what’s so special about coming together for dinner once a week? And honestly, you were just going to get dirtied up anyways. Their beautiful blooming garden was calling your name and who were you to deny it?

You’d often find yourself frolicking among the tall blades of grass and colorful flowers, the wind swaying the plants to and fro. It was so calming to sit and watch the bees buzz around and pollinate. Needless to say, this is the boys’ cue to come into the picture; they always ruined your fun. The twins started growing into... boys, meaning they were an absolute nuisance.

It all started on a gloomy day; it had rained a few hours prior to the meetup and the Miya’s garden was- of course- muddy, but you just couldn’t resist. You tried to be as careful as you could, especially after the continuous complaints from your mother about how dirty you were when you showed up to the dinner table, but somebody decided to sabotage that.

A cold, wet slab of goop slapped you square in the face. With eyes growing wide, you turned to the culprit. An obnoxious laugh left Atsumu Miya’s mouth and in the same breath managed to call you ugly. You didn’t know what to do besides look down; you felt tears prick your lash line and you didn’t want that bully of a boy to see you cry. When you lifted your gaze to find the back door to run to, you paused upon seeing more mud flying through the air- only it wasn’t at you this time. It’s target was Atsumu- the launcher, Osamu. Finishing the embarrassing blow, the twin pointedly said the same phrase that was spat at you, before turning to you and apologizing for his idiot brother’s actions. Needless to say, after that Osamu Miya became your knight in shining armor.

As the years pass, they started to come over to your house more. When the boys were in your room, they (mainly the more wide-eyed, now blonde-haired, insatiably curious one) poked and prodded where their gazes didn’t belong. Osamu always tried his hardest to reil his brother in, attempting to put things back and apologizing every once in a while.it was painfully easy to realize that your perspective about him about him shifted; The politeness. The calm. The sensibility. He was kind and considerate. Your view on Osamu began to change into something of want, and oddly enough, it wasn’t pure.

You and osamu grew closer in ways you weren’t expecting; he was your first sexual everything. First kiss, first touch, first fuck- and with every intimate moment you both shared, the level of respect and maturity was extremely high. There was only one issue, whatever one miya wanted, the other wanted it just as bad.

Atsumu’s gaze on you lasted longer and longer, his tricks were getting more and more perverse- anything he could do to cause a little mischief and ripen the sexual tension he began to build between the two of you. But even the kiddie wrestling matches, flipping up your skirt, and lingering touches became boring; none of his little teases seemed to satisfy him anymore.

He was jealous. He had to be. Osamu never boasted, much less muttered a single word about what you two did when you were alone but Atsumu wasn’t dumb. He knew one of the Miya’s were getting their dick wet and it certainly wasn’t him. He was becoming impatient, but to you, he seemed really on edge- so much so, that one night you found yourself in one of the most compromising positions with the honey-haired idiot.

The three of you were chatting about the twins’ most recent volleyball match in your room, waiting for your moms’ wine induced giggles to subside and finnish the food already.

With lit up eyes, Atsumu was boasting about how they’d achieved their first quick when Osamu pardoned himself so he could use the restroom. 

“AWHH ‘SAMU, YOURE GONNA MISS THE BEST PART.” Tsumu loudly whined. 

“i was there, idiot. just keep telling her the story, i’ll be back.” he rolled his eyes before leaving the room.

He sucked his teeth before turning to you to continue the story only to find your eyes glued to find Osamu’s fleeting figure. You looked almost dazed out and Atsumu couldn’t believe it. Right in front of his eyes, you were eye-fucking his twin brother instead of listening to him.

Absolutely not.

Part of you should not be surprised. You looked away for just a few seconds- just enough for Atsumu to be annoyed that the attention wasn’t on him. Now you found yourself pinned to the floor, both wrists in one of his big hands, the other holding your hips down. You let out a squeal as you tried squirming out of his grasp.... that was until his knee firmly placed itself against your crotch in just the right place. You swear up and down that you didn’t mean to but there was a surprised gasp that shouldn’t have left your mouth. It almost sounded like... the thought stilled your body.

atsumu took note of this. 

In a low murmur, he leaned incredibly close and whispered, “how’s that pretty pussy of yers feelin right now?”

It sent a violent pink tinge to your cheeks and a bolt of arousal down your spine, your slick spreading against your underwear and the top of his jeanclad knee. A clench of your thighs meant this was going exactly where he wanted it to- his wait was over.

“ ‘m waiting for an answer, princess.” he tutted, his face only getting closer to yours while he applied more pressure against your throbbing vulva. 

It was never like this with ‘samu. This... was almost exciting for you. Something teetering the lines of flavorful and troublesome. The little voice in your head was screaming at you but the aching desire in your pussy was louder.

“Ah!- atsumu! what are you doing?” you whimper, trying to hide your face. There were so many thoughts racing through your mind, the logical part of you wanted to hear them all out but in the moment you were so overwhelmed. There needed to be control in such a situation; You tried to shift around to loosen his grip, accidentally applying pressure that was welcoming it the most, causing a breathy moan to escape your lips and your eyes to clamp shut.

“mmm well, you’re so focused on my brother, i thought i’d show you what you were missin if you started payin more attention to me.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and you whine. This position was so compromising.

He trailed the hand that weighed down your waist up the curves of your side and took your jaw in his hand. He turned your face and when you peeked open your eyes, your gaze was met with his.

“I want you to cum on my thigh.”

Eyes wide, you tried shaking your head to no avail. His grip was so strong. “Atsumu no!! Osamu’s gonna get back and dinner is gonna be done soon and just- no!” You squeal.

“Y’still have time,” he said calmly, “ ‘samu’s probably checkin on dinner... so yeh better start... or else. Y’know what? I could just continue this though dinner. Slide my hand up ye’thigh under the table...” he started, letting go of your face and ghosting his hand down your body. The thought of his big hands palming over your clit while a finger is dipped into your warm pool flashed in your mind. You clenched, and boy, he felt it.

“Mmm, did my pretty girl think about my fingers- fingers that could reach places yours can’t?” He grinned as he watched you follow his hand with your eyes. “maybe you’d like it if i play with your clit under the table, hm? right next to my brother-” 

“no no! here. right now.” is all you could manage to get out. your head was swimming with all that could happen, it only got hazier when you felt the pressure on your cunt lessen- you wanted it back. “Ts-sumu.. i..” 

“i know, i know... but first i want you to cum on my thigh if you want my fingers that badly. I want you whiny and desperate, rubbing that pretty cunt all over me. Moaning my name.”

That’s how you found yourself stuffed in your small closet, you desk chair pulled away from its rightful place,

With his throbbing cock fighting against the cage of his pants and heavy pants leaving his lips, his hands could only find relief on your waist- assisting you in your delishious movements.

His noises weren’t the only ones to be heard, you were trying so hard to contain them but nothing is coming of it. Short little high pitched whines rung in Atsumu s ears- but what really got him were the whimpers of “fuck tsumi,” when the angle hit your clit just right and the squeeze of his biceps as you threw your head back. As soon as he experienced that, he needed you to cum right then and there. And not on his thigh.

“Nope- fuck, we’re switching it up,” he mumbled as he stopped your hips from grinding down. Your mind was a mess but all you could think about in your extremely aroused state was that you needed to cum.

“Atsumu wh-“ before you could even finish your question, he unzipped his pants and uncovered himself from his boxers, his angry cockhead slapping his torso and smearing pre-cum on his skin.

“On- now, Princess.”

There was no need for protests; he was expecting one to come out but instead he felt your soft hands lightly grip his bulging head and give a few strokes before all he heard in that cramped, dark closet was, “you’re so .. big.”

Eyes wide, a garbled moan left his mouth and next thing he knew, you were repositioning till his tip lined with your sopping entrance. He couldn’t take it, he thrusted upward as you sunk down. A shocked moan ripped out of both of you and in the moment of silence that followed afterwards, you could hear the floorboard creek.

Apparently Atsumu did too because his actions stopped and one of his hands left your hips to presumably cover your mouth. You presumed wrong.

Your closet door slid open to reveal a wide eyed Osamu palming himself.

[crazy4dragons]

The Next Step

Hiccup reaches a new level of comfort in the bedroom. Takes place during RTTE, soon after The Next Level and The Next Morning. Rating: M (nudity, sexual content, and plenty of Hotcup 😉).

Hiccup bit back a moan as Astrid drew his lower lip between her teeth and tugged on the little braids she’d woven into his hair. “Gods,” he breathed, resting his palms low on her hips.

“Mmm.” The blonde grabbed the hem of his tunic and lifted the garment over his head before wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in for a sloppy kiss.

Pulling Astrid closer, Hiccup tugged at the end of her bindings, silently asking for permission to remove them. When she nodded, he unwound the fabric with trembling fingers and eagerly took her breasts in his hands.

“Babe,” groaned Astrid, her back arching as she kissed him harder, hands gripping his freckled shoulders.

“You’re…so…hot,” Hiccup mumbled between kisses. His thumbs massaged her nipples, causing them to crinkle with arousal.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” teased Astrid. She ran her fingers across his chest, toying with the sparse hairs that grew there.

He chuckled. “So talking fishbones are your type, huh?”

“I suppose they are.” She sat back up and shifted her hands down his torso to trace the faint outline of his abs.

Hiccup let out a sharp breath as her fingers traveled to the trail of hair beneath his belly button.

“Is there a lot more under here?” Astrid asked with a wink, hooking a thumb into the hem of his pants.

With reddening cheeks, he nodded.

“Hey,” she whispered, hovering over him to press her lips against his mouth. “It sounds hot.”

Hiccup swallowed hard as he felt her stiff nipples scrape against his chest. Then, taking a deep breath, he asked, “You…you wanna see?”

Astrid’s eyes widened. “Are you ready?” she checked.

He nodded. “I’m ready. But you first.”

“What?”

Hiccup slipped his thumbs into her bottoms, removing her leggings and underwear in one movement. “I’ll feel better if you take off yours, too.”

Smirking, she kicked the clothes off of her feet, leaving them to fall onto the floor. “Well, you know I don’t have any reservations about that.” An excited shiver ran down her spine. Being naked in front of Hiccup, knowing he was lusting over her, always turned her on. And now, the thought of him also being naked heightened her arousal.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands over her skin.

“Your turn,” smirked Astrid. Kneeling between his legs, she cautiously peeled off his bottoms, eyes glancing up at his face every few seconds to look for signs of hesitation.

“My scars,” Hiccup said as the garments reached his knees. “I…my leg…”

The blonde hardly heard him. Her gaze was centered on his growing erection, and her mind was racing was desire. She hadn’t exactly been sure about what to expect when it came to male anatomy, but she definitely hadn’t been expecting him to be as stiff as he was.

“Astrid?” he promoted.

“Do you mind?” she asked, reaching her hand towards his penis.

Hiccup’s cheeks turned red. “I uh…um…yeah…I mean, no…I mean, do you really want to…to touch me?”

“I’ve only fantasized about it a hundred times,” teased Astrid. “And I may or may not been masturbating during my fantasies.” She winked.

He swallowed hard at the image of Astrid lying in bed, naked, her thumb rubbing her clit as she brought herself to orgasm. He’d seen her pleasure herself before, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that she was imagining his nude body while doing it.

Taking his erection in her fist, she stretched out her thumb to brush the sensitive tip while her free hand slid his pants off his legs, finally leaving them both fully exposed. While she’d been perfectly comfortable being completely bare in front of him before, having him naked with her made her sense a new special bond between them.

“My scars,” Hiccup reminded.

The blonde glanced down at his left leg, where a set of angry red burn scars marked the spot that his bone had shattered during the battle with the Red Death. “I love you,” she whispered, lying stomach-down on top of him and offering an affectionate smile.

A rush of warmth surged through Hiccup’s veins. In the past, he’d always been the one to initiate “I love yous.” Astrid had always been more about showing than telling, but hearing her say the words first tonight hit him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “I love you, too,” he murmured, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Leaning in for a kiss, she pressed her breasts into his chest and rubbed her crotch on his, causing him to gasp as she drew his lower lip between her teeth.

Hiccup reached down to grab her butt, erection throbbing at the sensation of her pebbled nipples against his chest and her center brushing his.

“You good?” Astrid checked, panting as she broke the kiss.

He nodded.

“Do you want to get off now, or…” With Hiccup’s shyness, the two hadn’t yet touched each other below the waist, not before Astrid had touched him tonight. Any activity that involved undressing always ended with mutual masturbation while the candles were out and a blanket was covering his bottom half.

“Or what?” he asked, teasingly pinching a nipple as she sat up to straddle him.

“We could do it to each other,” she suggested cautiously.

Hiccup swallowed hard. “I…I’d love to, but I don’t know how…how to touch you. Your um…well…stuff, if I can call it that…it’s…uh…a little less um…straightforward than mine.”

Astrid laughed. “I’ll help you,” she promised, grabbing his hand and placing it on her mound, tingles running down her spine at the feeling of his fingers brushing against her swollen folds. “But you first.”

“Gods, you don’t have to…” He trailed off as she knelt between his legs, one hand massaging his balls while the other stroking his erection.

“You’re perfect,” Astrid mumbled.

“Holy Freja, how did you…how are you this good?” he gasped, biting back a cry as she swirled her tongue around his tip.

The blonde shrugged. “You learn a lot from Viking women’s gossip,” she laughed. “Thank Thor I don’t use the public baths anymore, but gods, the things I would hear there.”

“You don’t use the public baths, either?” Hiccup raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I mean, I guess…well…you don’t exactly seem like the self-conscious type.”

Astrid laughed. “I’m not. Around you. But after being a late bloomer, and hearing the women point out that I had no boobs…and growing hair in awkward places…and realizing I was the only one with a blonde crotch…no thanks.”

Hiccup smirked. “Well, puberty certainly blessed you, late bloomer or not,” he remarked. “And for the record, I think it’s sexy that you’re blonde down there.”

A light blush covered her cheeks as she closed her fist around his penis, thumb reaching down to continue teasing the sensitive tip.

He drew in a breath.

“Does that feel good?” murmured Astrid, still stroking him.

Nodding, Hiccup reached down to grab her free hand.

“You’re so hot,” she whispered, squeezing his erection while she laced her fingers with his. It was so like him to want to hold hands while he reached his climax, and she was happy to oblige.

“My Thor,” he breathed, biting his lip as tingles shot down his spine, signaling that he was almost to his height.

Astrid squeezed him harder, this time leaning forward to graze his tip with her teeth, a gesture that caused his quiet gasps became sharper. “Almost there?” she checked.

Hiccup nodded.

Her own arousal growing at the sight of his pleasure, she pumped his erection faster, thumb reaching for his tip, until he finally spilled his seed over her breasts and settled limp against the pillows.

“Thanks, Astrid,” he eventually managed to say. Pulling himself up, his gaze drifted towards her body, eyes growing wide and cheeks blushing at the sight of his fluids on her skin. “I uh…sorry I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” she smirked. “I think it’s pretty damn hot.”

Hiccup reached for the nearest blanket and, covering his lower half, reached for his prosthetic. “At least let me get you a towel,” he insisted. “You know, to clean up with.”

“I got it,” Astrid said firmly. She took the metal leg from his hand and set it back in its place before climbing off the mattress. As she grabbed a towel and dipped it into the sudsy wash bin, she was well aware of her boyfriend’s stare. “Like what you see?” she teased, wiping away his semen while trying to ignore the tingles between her thighs.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured.

After she finished cleaning up, the blonde crawled back into bed. “My turn,” she prompted, leaning in to deliver a sloppy kiss against his lips. “I mean, as long as you’re comfortable —”

“Of course,” Hiccup cut in with a lopsided grin. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

[cryptiql]

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

[writerpeach]

Club Mimosa - [Ch. 6] Dangerous

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

There was a lot to love about Tokyo’s winter season.

Barren trees swayed after being kissed by frost after the season’s first snowfall, making the entire city more beautiful as ever. The ground beneath your feet looked pristine as a thin soft white sheet blanketed the streets.

Tokyo looked and felt like an entirely new city during winter.

Perhaps your favorite part was the reduced crowds. Taking a subway to anywhere within city limits no longer felt like you were fighting for air to breathe with a hundred different strangers.

You loved the way the cool crisp air felt on your skin every time you left your apartment and the way you could visibly see your breath lingering in the air.

Winter was your favorite season, you anticipated it more each year since you could take public transportation and easily enjoyed it without worrying. Cold temperatures were your companion, and you welcomed the season with open arms.

The season also marked your third year living in Japan.

Culture shock became less of a shock and something you grew accustomed to. There was hardly any food you couldn’t eat without trouble. You had tried all sorts of delicacies that would have been seen as “weird” back in the west, and while you didn’t enjoy them all you never regretted experiencing them all.

Your favorite thing about Tokyo outside of its attractive women, delicious food, and incredible culture was the club that had become your second home. Club Mimosa was your favorite place to spend both your free time and money. Your name was known throughout the establishment from flirty hostesses to managers, to the sexy ladies behind the bar serving stiff drinks.

But there was still one person that hadn’t managed to meet you yet.

Minatozaki Sana.

Momo painted a vivid picture of her, but you hadn’t seen her in the club. You didn’t know what she looked like, what she acted like, you knew nothing but what Momo had described.

You got updates sent from Momo every couple of days, letting you know how things were progressing. Slowly, it seemed, which wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t easy, even with years of experience under her belt there were a plethora of things unaccounted for, hostesses to train, management to find, equipment to gather. Even with a small team helping her there was a lot to do. Momo was going to be staying in Kyoto for quite a while it seemed.

Japan was a relatively small country comparatively, but even on a one-way trip on a bullet train, you were looking at over two hours, which was hard to justify even to see such a beautiful woman as Momo. You kept in contact over the phone and video chat, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss those late nights with her, screaming each other’s names so loud you were afraid the neighbors were going to knock at her door.

That’s where Club Mimosa came in.

You had needs. Everyone had needs, and if those needs were talking to gorgeous women in expensive tight dresses for hours on end, well then, those needs were easily satisfied.

Those needs were harder without Momo there, sitting inches away from you, close enough to smell her perfume while she sipped on her drink and munched on whatever meat was on the menu.

You had spent time away from the club, feeling the distance away from Momo more than you thought you would. But if you trusted anyone to offer a suitable replacement it would be one Hirai Momo.

It all felt familiar to you as you stepped off the subway and walked into the snow-covered streets of Tokyo, feeling less smothered by the crowds thankfully. You could see the bright lights a mile away as if it’s neon lights were calling for you personally.

You entered the club and the first thing you noticed was everything seemed louder. You were surrounded by familiar faces and sounds and an atmosphere that could only be described as alive.

“Welcome back to Club Mimosa, sir!”

You didn’t know how you felt about being a regular in a place where you were liable to spend way too much money in one night, but there were worse problems to have.

“Do you have anyone specific you'd like to request? Or would you like us to find someone for you, sir?”

You hesitated before making your choice of words carefully.

“I’d like to request Minatozaki Sana,” you said. The manager looked at you like you’d just summoned something unstoppable.

“I”m sorry, sir, but she is no longer an active-”

“It’s fine, I’ve been expecting him.”

You didn’t know where the voice came from, but her words were like honey slowly dripping out of a bottle, every syllable full of seduction.

Stepping out of the shadows was the owner of said voice, a stunning young woman who took your breath away at first sight. Her hair was blonde, her legs were long, and her curves were deadly. Minatozaki Sana was an absolutely perfect woman. Her dress was tighter and shorter than anything Momo ever wore, as if she wanted to show her up now that she wasn’t here.

Momo saying she had a body to die for was putting it lightly and didn't do her justice.

“About time you showed up,” she giggled, placing her hands on her hips. “Momo has told me a lot about you.”

“Hopefully not too much, Miss Minatozaki,” you replied.

“Oh, you can just call me Sana, I’m sure Momo has her secrets. A woman never tells everything. Now, where should we take you? A normal booth won’t do, and you’ve already defiled - I mean visited our VIP booth…”

It was hard to find a response to that as your cheeks reddened.

“Yuki-chan!” Sana called over.

“Yes, Minatozaki-San?”

“Are the karaoke rooms occupied?”

“No, they haven’t been used all day. They were just freshened up this morning.”

“Perfect, thank you, Yuki-chan. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

When Sana asked you to follow her you didn't dare refuse,  as she led you down a separate hallway you'd never seen before, her fill hips swaying with every step.

"After you," Sana said as she held the door open, leading you into one of the few rooms in the place you hadn't been in before.

Red couches lined the walls of the large karaoke room, spacious enough to accommodate several people. The focus of the room was the big mounted screen centered between two dark marble tables, large speakers, colorful lighting filled the room.

"Usually these rooms are used for multiple clients wanting more than one hostess, but I'll have you all to myself in here," Sana said flirtatiously, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"So, what does Momo's favorite client like to drink?" Sana asked as she sat down to your right, flashing a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Favorite?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, she hasn’t specifically said that, but I could see it in the way she talks about you,” Sana replied, biting the tip of her finger.

“And what does Momo say about me?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady to reveal her secrets,” Sana teased, scooting closer to your body.

“But she does say you’re cute and charming, and that you have a nice body. I can certainly vouch for the first two, but the third, I’m not quite sure yet.”

There was a lot you could tell just from a person’s smile, and Sana’s smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. You could tell Sana wasn’t like the other hostesses, as cliche as that might be to say. While she had an immeasurable amount of sex appeal, there was an equal amount of cuteness mixed in that swirled together to create one incredible package of a woman.

“I think I’m okay with water for now,” you told Sana nonchalantly. This was your first meeting and you didn’t want to overdo it, surprised at how comfortable you felt around her already, not a hint of nerves.

“Water it is,” she replied as she got up and fetched two bottles of water out of a nearby glass cooler that you had somehow completely missed.

“Oh. I could have just gotten it myself,” you said with a hint of embarrassment.

Sana sat back down and shook her head as she handed you a bottle, grasping the other in her small hands.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” Sana said as she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, carefully letting water pour out without letting the bottle touch her lips. Even drinking water Sana looked incredibly sexy, although you sensed she was doing this on purpose.

The one thing you quickly realized about Sana was her vast experience. While Momo had confidence in her veins, she had her rare moments of awkwardness or when she suddenly turned nervous and stumbled over her words after something had been said.

But Sana, you could tell she had been doing this for more than just a few years. While you’d become a regular at the club, you felt at times you needed to pick your words carefully during a conversation, while Sana’s words flowed out of her lips automatically.

“So, Sana. Since you know a lot about me, tell me about yourself,” you said after a moment's pause. You were still so awkward with meeting new women, but you didn’t want this to come off as an interview. Sana could sense your own awkwardness, but her gaze calmed you down.

“Hm, where to start,” Sana said, running a hand through her silky golden locks.

“This is my sixth year as a hostess here. Although I’m not really a hostess anymore, I mostly train new girls and help run the place,” Sana said, keeping her gaze towards you.

“Sounds like you’ve put in a lot of work.”

“I have. We had a rough patch this year, but we made it through. I’ve been here since the beginning when we only had two hostesses besides me. Back then we struggled to get five customers a week, barely making enough money to keep the lights on. I ate a lot of ramen that first year.”

“And now look at this place. You’re the most popular club in Tokyo, and you’re opening a second location. You must be swimming in money.”

Sana smiled shyly. “I have Momo to thank for that. She volunteered to help run it, at least until everything is running smoothly. I miss her.”

“I do too,” you said, the words came out of your mouth before you had realized what you were saying.

“She told me you recruited her to come here?” you asked.

“That’s right. We met at university. We had different majors but ended up seeing each other almost every day. She needed extra money for tuition and I was already working here at the time, so I suggested she join me and put in a good word.”

“The rest is history as they say.”

“It is. God, she was so shy back then, she could barely look a man in the eyes. She spilled a drink her first shift and she was so clumsy for the first month. She almost quit the first week, but I convinced her to stay. And now she’s the most popular and requested girl.”

“That’s quite a success story.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less out of our Momo.”

Sharing glances with Sana you fumbled for words to say to break the awkward silence.

“Just talk to me like you’ve talked to Momo,” she said, and you abruptly felt her hand rubbing your thigh as she maintained eye contact.

“I don’t bite,” Sana said with a grin on her lips. “Unless you want me to.”

You didn’t know if you felt more at ease or more nervous, but her smile convinced you it was the former.

“I’ve instructed everyone to leave us alone unless called for,” she said, her smile turning into a smirk.

“Momo left you all to myself to play with, and I don’t want any interruptions.”

“Play with?” you repeated.

“Yes,” she replied with a flirtatious giggle, running her delicate fingers through strands of her hair again. Sana’s ways of flirting were about as subtle as a trainwreck, but you didn’t mind her methods.

“You know, for a karaoke room we’re not doing much singing,” you said, changing the subject.

“You’re absolutely right,” Sana said, leaning forward to grab the heavy book on the table, flipping through it.

“What do you want to sing?” Sana asked.

“Me? I’m not much of a singer, you should choose,” you said, deflecting the choice. You were terrified by the thought of sharing a stage with a beautiful woman, you didn’t dare display your terrible lack of singing prowess.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what to pick,” Sana said, flipping through several pages at a time.

“Then just sing your favorite song,” you replied. Sana paused, thinking about what she wanted for a moment.

“I don’t really have a favorite song,” she said, shaking her head as you furrowed an eyebrow.

“Everyone has a favorite song. Maybe something you’ve heard here a lot?”

“I hear a lot of songs here. There was this really cute song that I always sang during the first year I started here…” Sana said as she tilted her head, fingers fumbling through pages.

“Ah, here it is!” Sana said with excitement, her eyes widening as she keyed in numbers into the giant remote. The monitor in front lit up in response, flashing a white screen as the song started playing on the giant display. Sana stood with both hands on the mic, anticipating the start of the music.

The first notes were cheerful and bright as Sana sang along to every note of the bubblegum pop song, still remembering every lyric as if the song were personally her own. You had recognized the song, perhaps heard it during your time in the country in a mall or on tv. It was the perfect karaoke song, catchy and fun, and easy to sing.

Her duality here was something else. She even seemed to know all the choreography, all though it was rather simple. Her arms and legs moved in time with the rhythm and you were amazed at her still being able to dance without missing a step with such high heels on. With such full movements, singing such a cute song while wearing a tight dress that was designated to arouse was such a striking contrast.

Sana was most enthusiastic during the chorus.

“Fly so high, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, baaaby,” Sana sang along happily, a smile etched across her face as she used exaggerated movements and mimicked what she saw on the screen.

The song winded down and faded out completely, as the score tallied towards the end. After several seconds of anticipation, numbers spun and spun until displaying her final score an impressively high 98.

"Wow, you're amazing,“ you said as Sana bowed and sat back down, taking another swig of water as she handed you the microphone.

"I may have had a little training before I became a hostess. It wasn’t working out so I decided to apply here instead.”

She turned her attention towards you, mic still in hand.

“Your turn!”

Your expression betrayed your thoughts as you politely refused it, staring at it as if the object were suddenly lit on fire.

“You’re going to have to put a lot of alcohol in me if I’m going to start singing, Sana,” you said.

Sana pouted in response. ”Well then, I guess we better order a case,” she said. “But I won’t make you sing if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you, Sana.”

“Instead, I will ask you embarrassing personal questions,” she said, suddenly surprising you.

“Oh. That’s fair, I guess,” you replied, not exactly sure at what she was going to ask, but you figured it was a nice trade.

Sana didn’t waste any time wanting to get to the good stuff.

“When was the last time you and Momo…?” Sana asked, her voice trailed off deliberately as her eyebrow raised.

“Went on a date? A week before she left,” you confidently said.  

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Sana frowned.

“I don’t? What possibly could you mean then?” you teased.

“When’s the last time you know... You bent her over, pulled her hair, and made her scream?” Sana said, abruptly getting straight to the point.

She clearly wasn’t going to pull any punches. You took another sip from your water before attempting to answer.

“You really just expect me to kiss and tell just like that?”

“I do. I can't help that I'm nosy, " Sana giggled.

"Well, Momo never asked me to pull her hair, but the last time she and I got…intimate was the morning she left for Kyoto. In the shower."

"The shower, huh?" Sana repeated. “Some girls don’t like to admit they like their hair being pulled, but I think we all secretly love it.”

"I'm gonna need something alcoholic now," you said, embarrassed at your reveal.

"Coming right up," Sana said as she headed the intercom by the exit door.

"Send up the priciest bottle in the place!"

"Right away, Minatozaki-san!"

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” Sana said before you could voice any concern as she sat back down beside you.

"I always figured Momo was the vanilla type of girl," Sana said.

"Vanilla is still a good flavor.”

"There's nothing at all wrong with vanilla. But sometimes you want something a bit tastier."

There was a quick knock at the door, Sana voicing her approval to enter. The door swung open and a waiter walked in carrying a tray with several items, sitting everything down on the table and putting it in a bucket of ice.

"Please enjoy," the man said, bowing and leaving as quickly as he entered.

“Oh, we will,” Sana said as she opened the bottle. Putting a few ice cubes in each glass she filled them partway, handing you one as your glasses clinked.

"It’s been a while since I had a drink," you said, staring at the mysterious dark-colored liquid, swirling it around.

"Sip it, don’t down it.”

“Bottoms up,” you responded, putting the glass to your lips as you took your first taste. It wasn’t too strong, a mixture of sweet and sour, and a taste you quickly grew accustomed to.

“Well? How is it?” Sana asked, waiting for your review.

“It’s good. I was expecting it to be stronger by the way it looked.”

“We can’t get too carried away on our first meeting.”

“It’s really good.”

“Glad you like. Now, time for more questions!” Sana said, full of enthusiasm.

“I can’t wait,” you said half sarcastically.

“You don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“What’s your favorite part of a woman?”

"Uhh," you quickly hesitated, sinking back into the couch before you could think of what to say, letting more alcohol into your system as you took another drink.

“Let me change up the question,” Sana said, getting off the couch as she hopped up onto the table in front, crossing her legs and leaned back, resting both hands behind her.

“What’s your favorite part of me?”

You were caught off guard as Sana practically presented herself to you like an art display. You tried to keep eye contact, not wanting your eyes to roam her perfect tight body as much as you liked to.

“It’s okay to look. It'd be rude if you didn’t,” Sana said, lips curling into that same sensual expression. You let out a deep breath as you respectfully looked at Sana’s body, taking a gander at her smooth milky skin, eyes wandering every curve of her deadly body.

“I don’t have nice big tits like Momo does,“ she said, a slight frown forming on her lips. “But I think I do pretty well in other departments.”

Sana uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, trying her best to bring out your arousal and you swear you caught a glimpse of something. It wasn’t going to take much. She was now the center of attention in the room, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were her prey, and she was a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

“You’re dangerous, Sana,” you blurted out. She reacted immediately with that familiar smile.

“That’s not the first time I’ve been called that,” she said, adjusting the straps of her heel. “I never get tired of hearing it.”

Sana was closer to you than you realized, and you felt the temperature of the room heating up. You had spent plenty of time with hostesses at the same club, but something about Sana brought out something in you, something you couldn't understand. A mixture of nerves, excitement, and fear, like the first time you had asked a girl out.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sana said, biting on the tip of her finger seductively as she straightened her posture.

“You’ll have to repeat it. I forgot it already,” you lied.

Sana knew you didn’t. “Tell me...what your favorite part of me is. What your favorite part of my body is,” she said, every word crystal clear as she stared into your eyes.

Honestly, how she expected you to answer her with just one thing was beyond you. You went for the classic, yet cliche response.

“I like your eyes.”

Sana was so taken aback by such a cheesy answer it took her a moment to find the words to respond.

“My eyes, huh?” she said, a chuckle alongside her answer. “That’s funny, because ever since I hopped up here you’ve looked at every part of my body but my eyes.”

Caught in the act. Who could you blame you though? You were being seduced expertly by a blonde vixen, you couldn’t have been expected to spend every second gazing at those brown beauties when the rest of her body was so delicious.

“I don’t mind though,” Sana said. “You’re paying to spend time with me, I’m not going to stop you from undressing me with your eyes.”

“Although I’d prefer it if you used your hands,” she said, biting her lip.

You nearly choked. Maybe dangerous was too generous of a word to describe her. But sometimes the rush of something or someone dangerous was worth the risk.

“You don't have to tell me, I’m pretty sure I can figure it out already,” she said, beaming with confidence.

“Oh, do you?” you asked, trying to call her bluff.

“I do,” Sana said, giving you one more deadly look, letting you see the color in her beautiful round eyes. In an instant, Sana’s legs parted and she spread them invitingly wide, leaving you with the perfect view between her thighs. Even better was the lack of any underwear underneath her tight dress, exposing her pink pussy that sucked the life out of you momentarily and left you breathless.  

You tried to keep it together, even though you both knew Sana had the upper hand. Nothing could divert your gaze from in between her creamy naked thighs and the beautiful pink flesh of her gorgeous pussy, dripping with arousal from her actions already.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

“Maybe,” Sana said, still as playful as ever.

“Is that allowed, Miss Minatozaki?” you asked, falling back on formality.

“Of course it’s allowed. I help run this place, who’s going to stop me?” Sana replied nonchalantly. “As I said, it’s my job to take care of you.”

The room definitely grew infinitely hotter as Sana leaned forward, her legs still spread, and rested her hands on the inside of her inner thighs.

“You know, you’ve had a couple of drinks tonight,” Sana said. “But you must be starving. And what kind of hostess would I bet if I didn’t offer you anything to eat?”

If that wasn’t enough of an invitation, Sana hiked her dress up and spread her legs as wide as they could go.

“I am feeling pretty hungry,” you said, your mouth salivating at the pink flesh in between Sana’s spread thighs. “Aren’t there cameras here?” you asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes, for your safety and mine. But I turned them off after I ordered our drinks,” Sana said, flashing a cheeky smile.

“You think of everything don’t you?”

“It’s my job to. Now, how about you bring that cute face over here and taste me.”

You didn’t need Sana to say another word as you scooted off the couch, resting on the edge of it, and tried to get comfortable.

Sana had already done most of the work for you, keeping her legs kept open as you touched her bare skin for the first time, feeling how smooth and soft it was as you ran your hands up her creamy thighs. Looking up for approval, Sana gave it immediately as you planted several kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs, earning a soft delicate moan for the first time.

Her breath hitched as you licked long stripes up her sensitive bare thighs, ending with wet kisses, looking up to see the reaction on Sana’s face and finding nothing but satisfaction.

“Are you going to tease me?” Sana asked.

“That depends. Do you like being teased, Sana?” you replied.

“I love being teased, but not here. You can tease me later when my hands are wrapped in your bedsheets. I’m warmed up enough,” Sana said, running a finger through her pink wet slit as held up her finger in the air, demonstrating her slick glistening in the light.

You were a bit disappointed. Part of you wanted to test Sana, to see how much she could take, to drive her absolutely crazy the same way you did Momo. But Sana was wired differently. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t scared to take the lead. Plus, you were about still in public, it was best not to dawdle.

That didn’t stop you from kissing Sana’s thighs one more time before you brought your mouth to her pretty pussy, licking against her wet slit in one slow long stroke. Sana moaned, a sound that was as pretty as it was needy as you repeated it, licking up and down her pussy several times as you had your first taste of Sana.

Sana tasted utterly delicious. If you had to describe her taste, it was a mixture of sweet with just a hint of tanginess to it, not unlike the expensive drink you had both indulged in. There was no doubt Sana tasted much better.

You wanted more of her taste as your tongue explored Sana’s silky wet folds, gathering up her nectar into your lips and ran your tongue aimlessly.  

“That feels so good,” Sana moaned, running her fingers through the strands of your hair as your tongue roamed in between her thighs, wandering around her wet hole as if it wanted to get lost in her sensitive warm flesh.

You wanted more of Sana’s intoxicating taste, you wanted to taste as much of this sultry woman as you possibly could. Looking up at her satisfied expression, you licked through her cunt and latched your lips onto her clit, earning a mixture of whimpers and moans and the added pleasure of her warm thighs wrapping around your head, like a snake coiled around its victim and you were more than happy to be Sana’s prey.

It didn’t take long to turn Sana into what you wanted, a pretty squirming mess unable to control her movements on the karaoke room’s table. Her hips bucked as she tried to ride your face and you were thankful that the room you had chosen to devour her in was already designed to be soundproof.

“Mmm, fuck, that tongue is amazing,” Sana said as you felt both hands frantically pulling your hair harshly as you slurped on her swollen clit, trying to draw out more of her tasty juices.

The more you ate Sana up the louder she got, voicing her satisfaction. The louder she got the harder her thighs squeezed around your head, rubbing the sides of your face with her soft smooth skin. Her nectar quickly spread all over your lips and chin, coating your face with her essence.

“D-don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” Sana cried out as you pushed her past her limits already, alternating between sucking and licking around her sensitive clit, and kept your eyes on her the entire time, watching her become an absolute writhing mess.

You could barely breathe but it didn’t become a concern, all you wanted at that moment was hearing Sana’s pleasure. You’d prefer being suffocated by her pussy and her aroma, patiently waiting for those three words that meant you had done everything right.

“I-I’m gonna cum!”

Perfect. With warmth surrounding your head and wetness spreading all over your face, you gave everything you had and feasted on Sana’s pussy, moving your tongue and lips together to obtain what Sana desperately needed.

The moment came quickly as Sana hit her peak. The competing sounds of your lips slurping around her clit and her loud erotic moans filled the small room as her juices bathed your face, the wetness already there intensifying. Her thighs violently trembled and her toes curled, her back arching as she held on to your head for dear life, hips bucking wildly and you did what you could to keep her centered on the table as she came all over you.

Sana was a beautiful mess during the entirety of her orgasm, and you loved watching every second of the pleasure that grew too much for her. Sana showered you in her sweet juices and you were happy to receive every drop. You kept the pressure on her clit until Sana couldn’t take anymore and pushed your face off her as you were able to breathe freely, wondering if it was worth the trade-off to not being smothered by her heavenly thighs.

You stared into the round glazed-over eyes of the gorgeous woman you had just pleasured to completion, gasping and breathing heavily and cleaned up her thighs of her stained juices, wanting to dive right back.

“Wow,” Sana said between heavy drawn-out breaths. “Momo was right, you really do know how to please a woman.”

“I do my best,” you responded, wiping the juices off your lips and chin and making a show out of licking your fingers clean.

“It helps when you taste as good as you do,” you said, causing the full pale cheeks of Sana’s face to blush.

The redness of her cheeks gradually faded, replaced by a mischievous smile as you waited for her next step was. It came right away as Sana lifted herself from on top of the table her backside was resting on. With the quickness of a cat, she climbed onto your lap and wrapped her hands around the back of your neck, focusing her seductive eyes on your own.

"Your hostess wants to know what else I can do for you," Sana said, with a hunger for more. You felt weak as your face was almost close enough to rest against her own, the tension in the air the only thing separating you.

“I think my hostess should do whatever she feels like doing,” you replied, Sana’s eyes beaming at your response.

“Leave everything to me, sir,” Sana giggled, falling back into her role, eyes laced with lust and desire. Her head lifted up, seeing the expression on your eyes as her hands fiddled with your shirt, slowing unbuttoning the first few buttons.

She kept constant eye contact and Sana seemed to enjoy slowly undressing you, tilting her head to the side and leaned in close, lips finding your own and crashing against them in a deep warm embrace as she loosened up more buttons until your shirt was completely undone.

The kiss was brief but you both longed for more as Sana pulled your shirt open, admiring your bare chest, and traced it with one finger, planting her lips just below the middle of your collarbone and leaving her lipstick stained on your skin.

She cupped the side of your face and you felt her lips on you again, soft as silk as her tongue found its way into your mouth, needing no invitation as you wrapped your hands around her slim waist, desperate to pull her your bodies closer.

You were rewarded with one more kiss before she dismounted your lap, slowly lowering herself on the room’s black and white patterned carpet as she got on her knees as if she had done this many times before.

Sana didn’t say much as she unbuckled your belt, letting her actions do all the talking as she unzipped your pants and tugged them down to your ankles. Her warm hands caressed up and down your thighs, sending blood flowing to all the right places. It didn’t take long for a bulge to form through your boxers, arousing Sana equally as she rubbed it through the fabric of your underwear, tracing the outline of your shaft.

Sana sought out the rest of your naked body, quickly stripping your underwear off and leaving you with nothing left but the shirt on your back. Sana gasped at your newly exposed throbbing cock, eyes lit up with hunger as she licked her lips to let you know she liked what she saw.

“So, this is what Momo has been hiding from me,“ Sana said, spreading your legs wide as she wrapped her slim fingers around your hard cock and gripping tightly, applying firm pressure and slowly pumping you.

“It’s all for me now, ” she said as her tongue ran along your rigid shaft, sending shockwaves of pleasure as she painted up and down your cock from base to tip. Sana swirled her wet tongue around your sensitive head, lapping up your leaking slit and kissed your tip, cleaning it off.

Sana couldn’t take her eyes off your cock, spitting on it repeatedly and jerking you off in her small delicate hand, the pleasure rising already in your body.

"I should get more comfortable," she said, giving your shaft just a few more pumps before standing upright. She knew your eyes were drawn to her as she slipped each black strap down each shoulder, wiggling out of it as it fell to the ground, leaving a black lace bra the only thing preventing you from seeing every inch of her beautiful body.

She paused her work on your cock, letting your eyes roam her tight body and you did so happily. Her legs went on for days, her body tight and slim in all the right places. You had already seen her beautiful pussy and explored it with your mouth, but you wanted to feel her all over, and wanted to make her gasp just at your touch.

You focused on her tight stomach, her abs weren’t as defined as Momo but you’d still eat off of them. Then there were Sana’s breasts, pushed up nicely, and wanting to escape from their constraints. Momo clearly had the size advantage, but Sana’s tits were shaped nicely, big enough to get your hands on.

“Help me out?” Sana asked, interrupting your scan of her body as she turned around, facing away from you as she presented to you her almost bare back and most importantly her plump round ass that looked delicious and so utterly squeezable.

You regretfully remained patient as your hands grasped the thin fabric that made up Sana’s bra, undoing the clasp and helped her out of it, running your hands through her soft skin and wondering how such a beautiful creature existed. Sana quickly spun around on her heels, lifting her arms over her head and letting you see her newly exposed breasts in all their glory. Your jaw dropped at them, the perfect combination of round and milky mounds, looking soft as possible.

Staring was all you had time to do as Sana got back to her favorite position on her knees, grabbing your shaft. One more kiss on your tip and Sana parted her lips with your cock, wrapping her mouth around the first few inches. Her lips were impossibly soft and warm and you moaned loudly as Sana began sucking your cock, moving up and down and applying pressure, hollowing her squishy cheeks.

You found yourself unable to speak as Sana’s head bobbed up and down, trying to process the pleasure you were receiving.

“It feels so good,” you moaned as Sana upped her pace, lips sliding up and down your shaft as her tongue played with your underside, swirling around it at the same time.

“Good. I hope I’m taking good care of you.”

“You are, Sana. Fuck, you really are.”

Sana smiled and continued her assault on your cock, slurping away as her lips went deeper, keeping her eyes on you the entire time. Her hands rested on your thighs, digging her nails in as her head bobbed faster, slurping on your cock and leaving it covered in drool and warmth. You loved the feeling of her sucking you off, as she went even deeper towards your base you melted even more.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back in response, savoring the feeling of her lips swallowing up your cock, slurping loudly as her lips traveled back and forth, slobbering all over your shaft.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that.”

Sana got progressively messier and louder in response, and you opened your eyes almost involuntarily as you felt your cock hit the back of the throat, not gagging her even a little. Her lips rested at your base for several seconds before slowly retreating, fondling your balls as she took you in and out of her warm wet mouth with ease, rapidly bobbing her head more as you moaned in delight.

Sana loved nothing more than working her magic in between your legs, and you didn’t think there was a better feeling in the world as she gave the wettest loudest blowjob, but you knew the best was still to come. Sana’s messy slurps as she feasted on your cock was music to your ears, and you couldn’t help audibly sharing your satisfaction every time you felt the back of her throat.

“Don’t cum yet,” Sana teased, stroking your cock furiously as she sucked on your balls tenderly, latching on and slurping just as loudly. She released them only after they were equally given attention and covered in warm saliva, knowing what you wanted next.

“It’s time for the best part,” Sana said as she climbed back on your lap again, her thighs pressed on either side of your own as they wrapped around your hips. She took your hard cock into her hand again, stroking slowly and teased herself with it, running it through her very wet folds, the warmth radiating from it driving you insane already.

Sana found a comfortable position as she nudged your wet tip against her pussy, lining it with her soaked entrance up perfectly, the anticipation killing you both already.

“Ready?” Sana asked, and you gave a silent nod in response, although you weren’t sure if anything would be able to prepare you for what you were about to experience.

It took a few final seconds of teasing before Sana lowered her hips and sank down onto your cock, entering her for the first time as you both moaned in tandem at the initial penetration.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” Sana gasped, trying to work her hips back and forth, grinding and stretching herself out little by little. Her tightness was overwhelming, the wetness and heat smothering your cock like nothing else. You watched between her thighs as the tip of your cock disappeared and reappeared, the mixture of her saliva and juices from her pussy helping guiding you deeper into her hole.

“That never gets old,” Sana said, and you were inclined to agree. The feeling of entering a woman for the first time was one of your favorite things, and if that woman happened to be an insanely sexy hostess named Minatozaki Sana you loved it even more.

Sana took it slow at first, something that you were surprised by but you knew that wasn’t going to last if the way she gave head was something to go by.

You could tell by the greedy look on her face that she needed more as she lifted her body almost entirely off your cock, leaving just your sensitive tip drenched with her fluids inside.

Seconds passed as you both braced yourselves for what was next as Sana used all the force in her hips and slammed herself down on your cock, impaling herself to the hilt and moaning needily.

“Oh f-fuck,” she cried out, and you waited for any adjustment she needed as she held onto your shoulders, eyes half-lidded with pleasure already.

Taking a deep breath Sana began moving slowly, lifting her hips up as her warm walls hugged your cock. You held onto her slender waist, watching the erotic expression on her face as she began bouncing on your cock.

"You feel so big inside me. You're so fucking hard," Sana moaned as she stretched her tight slick walls out. Her tightness drove you crazy as she took you in and out of her body, establishing a rhythm.

You were content at the moment to let Sana do all the work, watching her eyes full of lust as she was expertly grinding on your cock, moaning loudly as her head tilted back.

"You feel so good, Sana," you said breathlessly, exploring her body with your hands.

"You do too. You feel so incredible inside me, I love your cock stretching me out," she said as the look on her face continued to be full of wanton need. Sana had seemingly all the experience with riding a cock, and she was proudly going to demonstrate it, grinding those powerful hips with purpose as her beautiful tits bounced up and down.

“I really wanna ride you harder,” Sana said, even though there was no need to ask for permission as she ran a hand through her messy hair as she bounced and bounced, covering your shaft in her nectar.

“Then ride me harder,” you replied, giving her ass a simultaneous slap on each cheek that echoed throughout the karaoke room. “Ride me as hard as you can, Sana.”

She bit her lip in response, flashing a devilish smirk as if preparing you for what you had just unleashed. Sana took a few moments to let you relax, letting you get ready for the calm before the storm was about to take place.

“Ride that fucking cock,” you taunted, making sure she wasn’t about to hold back. You felt her small hands around both sides of your neck as her hips began gyrating wildly back and forth, desperately trying to feel all of your hard cock inside her tight pussy.

Your hands roamed her lower back before finding her soft ass cheeks and squeezed them both, giving repeated smacks against the warm flesh, adding an extra oomph to the loud erotic moans already escaping from Sana’s devilish lips. Sana continued upping her pace little by little, bouncing her tight frame on your cock as you were hypnotized by her movements,

“I’m so fucking wet,” Sana said, her juices dripping down her thighs and leaking onto your body as she rode you balls deep confirming her every word.

You wanted Sana to be even wetter if such a thing were possible. You wanted her to lose yourself in the pleasure she was finding, as if riding your cock wasn’t enough for her, and it most certainly wasn’t.

Momentarily, you left your hands from the warmth of Sana’s tight ass and ran them up her back, pushing her body forward to grant you easier access to her delicious bouncing breasts. Sana was too focused on the hard cock impaling her tight cunt as you turned your attention elsewhere, teasing her hard pink nipples with your tongue, swirling around them as you latched and sucked harshly on her tits.

“F-fuck yes baby, suck on those tits,” Sana demanded, not that you needed any further instructions. You squeezed her sizable breasts, sucking on each of her rosy nipples with equal attention, biting and licking them one after another.

“That feels so good. You like my tits?”

“I love them. I love your body so much, Sana,” you said as you continued to hungrily close your lips around her swollen nipples, applying a firm but gentle pressure.

The harder Sana rode you the more sweat began accumulating on your bodies, which you responded to by licking between her cleavage. You wanted to lick her entire body clean, nuzzling your face in between her tits as your tongue ran across every surface you could find.

Sana lifted her arms up and put her hands behind her head as if she suddenly read your mind, and you licked the sweat off from her neck before diving down and licked her armpits, desperate to taste every inch of her naked body.

“You’re so fucking delicious, Sana. I wanna taste you all night.”

“I won’t stop you,” Sana said in response, continuing to harshly slam herself on your cock, driving herself crazy with the hard shaft between her legs constantly spearing her constricting wet walls.

You sat there in awe of the situation, savoring the way Sana’s dripping hot flesh wrapped around your cock while her thighs loudly smacked against your own as your bodies were drowned in a sea of pleasure.

“I-I’m about to cum again!” Sana said, finding the right words more difficult by the moment, her walls clenching more and more letting you know that her limits were once again being breached.

“Cum for me, Sana,” you said, grabbing two handfuls of her perfect ass, squeezing harshly. Sana paid no attention to your words, only focusing on using your cock for her pleasure, wildly riding you without any other thoughts as she took you inside her at full speed and riding you as hard as she possibly could.

Her arms snaked around the back of your neck again, locking her wrists together as she demanded her maximum amount of euphoria, chasing another climax greedily before you even had your first.

“I’m going to cum!”

Sana’s pretty voice echoed throughout the room as her walls pulsated around your shaft, squeezing the life out of your cock almost painfully so before releasing you in waves. She moaned desperately into your ears as she came on your cock, juices flowing like a river as her body shook uncontrollably and her movements were no longer her own as she turned to jelly and slowly rode out her orgasm to completion.

Her high went on for several moments and time lost all meaning for Sana as the aftershocks of her explosive climax took over. She held onto your body as she slowly came down, barely able to open her eyes as her hips rolled ever so slowly to ride everything out.

“H-holy shit,” Sana said, recovering her senses gradually as she attempted to make eye contact.

“I came so hard. I can still feel it,” she weakly said.

“I can tell. I’m really glad this room is soundproof,” you teased. Sana looked up with glazed over eyes, showing appreciation for her satisfaction as she brought her lips and pressed them against yours, passionately but softly kissing you.

“I want to taste myself on your cock,” Sana said, dropping such a filthy set of words so casually.

The lustful expression on Sana’s features never faded as she slowly slid herself off your lap and dropped to her knees, taking your drenched shaft between her soft lips again and took you inside her mouth again, slowly sucking her messy wet juices clean.

“You’re right, I am delicious,” she giggled, once again her cute and wild sides contrasting each other was the theme of the night.

“You must be close, how do you want me? Where do you want to fuck me?” Sana asked, stroking your cock as she kissed your thighs.

So many options. You looked around the small private area, weighing each one. There were a lot of easily accessible surfaces in this room. The couch was comfortable, but you’d spent plenty of time on it already. You stood up without another word as Sana regretfully removed your cock from her small warm mouth, and helped her to her feet, letting her be the one who was in anticipation this time.

You circled around Sana’s body, scanning her curves and eyeing every inch of her milky bare skin. Not wanting to waste any time, you pulled her towards the side of the karaoke’s marble table, spinning her body around so she was facing away from you and gasped at your suddenness.

Viewing her beautiful backside you grabbed Sana’s shoulders and bent her forward until she was at an angle that you liked, the upper portion of her body pressed against the table and her breasts mashed against its surface.

"Don't fuck me like you fucked Momo," Sana said, her words twisting your face in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

Sana paused as she looked over her shoulder. “It means you don’t have to be gentle with me. I’m not a delicate flower that bruises easily.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sana.”

She paused before answering. “Sometimes a girl likes being hurt,” Sana said, flashing a cheeky smile.

For the first time of the night, you were speechless.

“Be as rough as you want with me. It’s just us, and I want you to make me feel every inch of that amazing cock. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Well, you certainly weren’t going to as you gave her bent over body a quick lookover, focusing on her perfect round ass displayed for your eyes only, giving both of her supple cheeks a quick peek and stealing another taste of her delicious pussy.

In the meantime, Sana grabbed the karaoke remote off the table, pushing a few buttons on it as the television once again sprang to life.

“Random mode. Felt like adding a little bit of atmosphere,” Sana said.

Even though the place was supposedly soundproof, the added bit of noise to cover up the sounds your bodies were about to make was most welcome.

You ran your hands over all the warm soft skin you could find, spreading Sana's legs wide. You couldn’t wait to feel her warmth again before grasping a hip and lining your cock with her entrance, running your tip through her silky wet folds.

"Fuck me now," Sana demanded, pushing her hips against you to hurry things up. Her wetness nudged against your cock as you embraced yourself for the warmth your cock was about to enter again. You wanted her just as bad as she wanted you as you used your hips and slid inside the slippery tight walls of Sana’s pussy, filling her to the very hilt and earning a loud needy moan from her lips.

Warmth and wetness hugged your cock everywhere and you looked forward and caught Sana’s needy eyes, knowing no adjustment was necessary from her.

You held onto her hips and started moving, fucking Sana from behind with a slow deliberate pace as those tight wet lower lips wrapped around your cock gripped hard, keeping you inside the comfort of her body.

“You can do better than that,” Sana said, the disappointment obvious in her voice. You took her words as a challenge, squeezing her hips tighter as you picked up speed, sliding in and out of her wet hole with ease with the aid of her messy juices lubricating your cock.

You picked up the pace quickly, your hips moving faster and faster with each thrust as those delicious silky lips squeezed and squeezed your cock, letting you know your shaft wasn’t going anywhere. Sana’s moans grew more satisfied the faster you went, but she still needed more, and she wasn’t going to be content until you gave her everything she wanted.

“Harder. Fuck me harder!” she demanded, pushing her body against your hips again. You held on to her warm body and gave deeper thrusts, using more energy and starting smacking your body against her ass cheeks, causing her flesh to jiggle.

“There you go, was that so hard?” Sana taunted, demanding you give her even more.

Soon the sounds of your skin slapping against each other began filling the room, as you filled Sana to the hilt with each thrust, her wetness spreading over every inch of your needy shaft. Her walls squeezed every time you entered her, keeping a tight grip on your cock as you pistoned your hips and found a perfect rhythm.

“That’s it, fucking pound me. Make me take all of that big hard cock!”

You went even harder, encouraged by Sana’s loud lustful moans as you slammed into her pussy, causing a layer of thin sweat to form over your bodies again. You remembered her words from earlier as you ran your hands all over her sweaty back, collecting a handful of her blonde hair and tangling your fingers in it, forming a loose makeshift ponytail and yanked on it gently as you felt her walls clench in response.

“Fuck yes, you’re so deep! Keep fucking me just like this!”

You yanked back more carefully, pulling her torso upright off of the room’s table as she looked straight ahead into the screen in front, as if she were looking into a mirror. You had gone this far already, so you decided you should up the ante even more, giving her ass a smack.

“Mmm yes, slap my ass, baby!”

You responded by giving another slap to her soft supple cheek, followed by another on the opposite side.

“Harder,” Sana said. You gave two more slaps, adding more impact as her flesh rippled each time.

“I said harder. This isn’t the time for you to hold back. Slap my fucking ass like you mean it.”

You certainly weren't going to disappoint her for a second time. As you drilled into her tight hole you gave her delicious ass repeated slaps, each one harder than the previous one, making sure to not hit the same part twice. You slapped Sana’s tight ass again and again, the crack of your palm against her bare skin echoing as you gave in to her desires, turning her cheeks a visible shade of red and each smack against her bottom made her tight walls clench in approval.

While your fingers were entangled with the strands of Sana’s hair you pulled even harder and made sure you kept your pace steady as you fucked her from behind.

Hearing her gasps and moans of delight filled your ears as your cock plunged in and out of her warm wet hole, each time you withdrew the juices covering your shaft glistening in the room lighting.

“Is this what you wanted?” you growled at Sana as you drove your cock as deep as possible, her tightness smothering your cock with each entrance into her warmth.

“Y-yes! Don’t stop fucking me!” Sana said as her voice cracked, her whimpering moans escaped alongside her words as you gave into your needy urges. You make sure you didn’t stop your movements, pounding into her tight cunt as roughly as possible and fucked Sana as hard as your body allowed you to, the music blaring from the screen doing little if anything to dampen your combined moans.

Your hands found their way back to her perfect hips, saving your energy for the most powerful thrusts you continued to give Sana, returning the favor and using her pussy just like she used your cock earlier, caring little for much other than your own selfish pleasure.

“Are you going to cum soon, baby?” Sana asked, sensing your need for your own desperate release. You were surprised you had somehow lasted this long inside this impossibly hot woman. The juices collected on every inch of your shaft grew by the second, and the knot in your stomach tightened more and more with every deep thrust into her tight wanton body.

With the way Sana looked back at you, there wasn’t any way you couldn’t survive any longer, her needy eyes wanting your climax as much as you did.

“I-I am. I’m so close, Sana,” you blurted out to her delight, flashing a lustful smile in your direction.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. I want you to cum. I need you to cum inside me. You’ll do that for me won’t you?”

“O-of course,” you replied, finding the air in the room harder to take in.

“Fuck me hard, and don’t you dare stop until you fill me.”

You’d never forget the erotic look of Sana’s desires as she made eye contact one final time. You kept your eyes on her bent over body, sweat dripping down her lower back as you pounded her pussy and plunged your hard cock deep into the warmth of her tight cunt, chasing the only thing that mattered to the two of you.

“Cum inside me. Please cum inside me, “ Sana pleaded with her words, and you had nothing left, eager to give in to her, to give her everything she wanted. All you could take was a handful more of thrusts, smacking your hot flesh against her own as you felt yourself being thrown over the point of no return.

There were no more words shared as you grunted loudly, moaning Sana’s name on your lips as you squeezed her hips so hard you didn’t even have time to worry about bruising her.

Your shaft violently throbbed inside her tight walls as you erupted inside her. You filled Sana to the brim with your warmth and coated her insides with your huge load, groaning with every spurt of thick semen that shot deep into her womb as your balls were drained deep inside her.

Sighing a sense of relief, your bodies stayed connected as your orgasm slowly ran its course. Sana’s tight pussy milked every single drop from you and you rested inside her while you recovered, struggling to catch your breath as you panted and gasped as you felt the most satisfied you had been in quite some time.

You didn’t remember how long you were inside Sana after you came. It might have been a few seconds, or half an hour as you regrettably withdrew an inch at a time from her warmth, leaving her body with a loud pop. As soon as she was empty your thick load slowly leaked out of her, dripping down her thighs and making a mess below.

“That was amazing,” Sana said, equally out of breath as she gingerly turned around, gripping your spent cock one more time and stroking slowly, making sure not a drop was wasted as she licked her fingers clean.

“You’re amazing, Sana.”

“Not bad for just a replacement, huh?” Sana said, cutely giggling.

“I think I might have to request you again. You really take good care of your clients.”

“Thank you. But you know you don’t have to come to the club to see me,” Sana said.

“Is that so?”

“Of course. I’m not really a hostess anymore. I don’t have quotas and I certainly don’t need the extra money. “

“I'll take you up on that offer then.”

“You’re certainly welcome to spend time and money here, but you’ve done so enough, so your wallet deserves a break. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll take you somewhere with some real privacy?” Sana smirked.

“And where might that be?” you asked.

“You’ll see. Somewhere where you’ll be able to see just how loud I can get.”

[yoshkeii]

𝟹𝚛𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚜𝚑 | 𝟹𝟻𝟶+ 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝

࿐ character: Nobuyuki Kai, Tsukishima Kei, Shouhei Fukunaga 

࿐ prompt: 3) “You keep staring at me.” 7) “You’re safe now. Breathe.” 9) "Please never do that again."

࿐ type: imagine

࿐ requested by: anon for my 350+ event.

⌦ male!reader (he/him)

⌦ tw: panic attack (on Kai’s part.)

⌦ slightly suggestive?? on Fukunaga’s part- (its just.. thighs...)

⌦ ‘for the event, could I request an imagine with the dialogue prompts, 7, 9, and 3, with the characters Kai, Tsukishima, and Fukunaga? male pronouns‘

A/N: writing for characters i haven’t yet makes me have to use my brain to be original but its a fun process lmao- also hopefully i portrayed the panic attack for Kai’s part okay. Ive had some personally but they are really hard to explain for me. 

𝚃𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 / “𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎.”

Being the fifth 1st year on the Karasuno team, you really found it hard to fit in and communicate with the others. Adding on with not being in the main set or switched out often. During practice you mainly look different.

Often taking off some piercings you had that would make stuff difficult to play in, often just having the classic small earrings on. Your h/c hair being slightly longer than most boys, often tying it up into a half-up french twist during practice while you left it down during school hours to hide your piercings from attention.

After another rough afternoon of practice, you slumped down against a wall sighing in relief as you shut your eyes. Sweat dripping down your face, “another tough.. practice” you heaved softly to yourself. Sitting there silently you just listened to the idle chatter of the other members and the squeaking of rubber on the hard floor. Flinching at the sudden cheer of your name from Yamaguchi, you opened your eyes to see him with Tsukishima aside of him.

“Hurry up y/n! Tsuki’s gonna leave ya if you don’t!!”

“A-ah shit! M-my bad, Tadashi-” 

Quickly standing up you jogged over towards the two, already having your bag in hand. “Sorry about that..” you sighed, “..today was just really tiring..”

“It’s fine! Today was pretty tough than usual” Yams replied reassuringly.

As you three left practice you walked each other home, it often went like this. You and Yams bickering about your interests and what happened throughout your day, while Tsukishima just listened. Usually butting in with a retort or a salty joke at one of you. But as the distance grew close, Yamaguchi left first home. Tsukishima second. Then leaving you to walk home alone which wasn’t very far from his house luckily. But this time... he’s walking you home first, claiming he wanted to talk a little longer with you, oddly enough to hear.

Agreeing reluctantly, you both walked down the road towards your house.

“You said you wanted to.. talk right?” You looked up at the short-haired blond, head tilting to the side. “..but you’re oddly quiet now! What’s up with that-”

“Nothing in particular idiot.” 

“Is that so Kei?” “You’re so weird sometimes yknow that”

“Same goes to you piercing-boy.”

You stuck your tongue at him, revealing a silver ball on your tongue. How- How has it not caught that sooner? Has it always been there? He just stared intently at it then you, back and forth as you continued to talk about whatever... comeback you had. Was it a comeback? Or were you just talking. He didn’t fucking know at this point. His mind clouded with whatever.. thoughts he had. Before the soft raising of your voice snapped him out of them,

“..Kei! What’s up with you- You just keep staring at me? Are you not feeling well or sumn’??” you questioned, eyes squinting at him.

“N-no.. I’m f-fine..” Tsukishima stuttered.

“Hey!! You stuttered! That’s not the Kei I know-”

“I didn’t stutter- Now shut up dumbass-”

𝙺𝚊𝚒 / “𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎.”

It was finals week. Having less time to relax and have fun, you were here stressing out in your room. Sitting at your desk with a laptop, notebooks, textbooks, everything. You needed to pass. You needed too, this being your last year at Nekoma made it your last stretch.

Letting out a deep sigh as you slammed your head on your desk, the books and paper lightly cushioning the harsh contact. You were so stressed. Overwhelmed. The stabbing thoughts of being a disappointment stabbed your mind, heart, and even soul. You were scared of it. Deciding to get some fresh air, you got up and started to leave your room. As each step was taken, your legs felt like jello. Not solid. Worrying yourself, you grabbed the doorway as you swung the door open. Standing there for moment, everything felt weird... You felt weird.

You didn’t know what was happening. Your mind was too hazy. Clustered with confusing thoughts. 

Collapsing onto the floor, your knees roughly meeting the hardwood floor possibly bruising them. Struggling to regain your breaths from the hyperventilation, you had no luck. Grasping at your shirt for closure. You just kneeled on the floor.

Not noticing the front door opening from down the hall, the sudden bag drop. And the surprising warmth of Kai’s hands met yours and your face. Hot tears dripping down your face as your body continuously changed from hot to cold. Not being able to understand the words slipping out of the vice-captain’s mouth, he quickly took note and engulfed your body into his. Arms securing comfort around your back as he started to massage your scalp.

Releasing your trembling hands from your shirt, you slowly grasped your boyfriend’s jersey. Chin resting on his shoulder as he whispered reassurances and comfort to you, the tears dripping down your face didn’t stop. But you had shortly stop hyperventilating, having uneasy shaky breaths still. Hearing the particular words slip past Kai’s lips, 

“You’re safe now. Breathe. Baby please...”

𝙵𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚊 / “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.”

Having Fukunaga as a boyfriend is really really nice- His personality and yours meshing well together, his presence is really comforting oddly enough. Even if its just him and you sitting in silence together in your shared space or him spitting out jokes he thinks out of the top of his head in any moment- It never fails to make you laugh or feel uncomfortable, and that means the world to him.

But as of now, your flustered expression only made the short-haired male look up at his boyfriend with a dorky expression... inbetween his lover’s thighs. His cheeks slightly squished as he lightly pushed your thighs with his hands that were on the sides. The silly grin on his face only made your face flushed up more, never really thinking Fukunaga would be.. kinda a thigh man.

You were just insecure about them. But he proved you wrong in the most adorable way. His dorky face being squished lightly inbetween them as he giggled softly are your expression.

“My lil’prince is flustered~” he cooed, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh, earning a squeak from you.

Fukunaga gazed up at you, his eyes glittering at the cute noise you let out. He kissed you again in the same area, retrieving the same noise but with a few more words.

“S-shou! Stop that!! Y-you I’m pretty ticklish babe-” You angrily muttered, your rosy face making you look soft more than angry.

Without a reply coming from him, he did it again. 

“I s-swear to g o d, S-Shouhei..!! Please never.. do that again..” you muttered, the deepened color of flush on your face signaled it was a lie.

“..not even in be-” before Fukunaga could finish his snarky reply, you shoved a pillow on his face.

“SHOUHEI NO-”

[honoredbastard]

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani  + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings   — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note  — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

                                         *Yakuro Nanami.                                            he/they/bun! 

                  Now playing ayanami  — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on. 

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair. 

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple  words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god. 

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance.  “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace. 

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

           ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ             late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou. 

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.” 

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter. 

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes. 

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!” 

          ާlocation, the bonten loft.             early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war. 

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

[mochimiyas]

acceptance

pairings: pre-timeskip!miya atsumu x reader, somewhat atsumu-centric

warnings: slight angst, mentions of insecurities, lowercase intended

a/n: wow i got lots of love from my sakusa drabble and i can’t help but thank you guys for enjoying! this drabble is based on my curiosity when atsumu accepts the fact that osamu will no longer pursue volleyball by his side, and what he does after it. i feel like its something everyone goes through in their life, whether it may be concerning a sport, hobby, job, etc. and if yall had someone that was on that atsumu/osamu bond level. please enjoy! content is under the cut...

“atsumu! when are ya gonna talk to yer brother?! it’s been a week, son. just please talk to him...” 

miya atsumu was considered one of the best setters during his high school years, and was widely known to be a threat along with his twin brother, miya osamu. 

‘’samu...’

atsumu clenched his teeth at the thought of his twin brother. the fact that his brother had the audacity to confront him at school, nonetheless informing him that he no longer wanted to pursue volleyball with him and instead, take a step into the culinary business. atsumu felt like his world was crumbling into ashes slowly, as if time slowed down in that particular moment. he remembered feeling his heart beating painfully in his ears after the gut-wrenching declaration.

~

everyone else who was in the gym at the time waited for atsumu’s reaction. majority of the outsiders thought atsumu would be happy that his twin decided to pursue his true passion, but the team knew better. they knew atsumu like the back of their hands. 

atsumu and osamu did everything together. they never once separated from each other and were each other’s greatest rival. atsumu would never admit it out loud, but he always considered osamu to be his motivation to improve and to become a better player. he never thought in a million years that osamu thought about ditching volleyball for cooking. how long was he thinking about this for? why would he suddenly quit? why is he leaving me behind? 

as the blonde setter mulled over all the possible reasonings behind osamu’s sudden declaration, the grey-haired spiker was internally freaking out, his brother’s silence scaring him. he truly didn’t know what the setter was thinking this time, his facial expression void of any indication of what he was thinking inside. osamu let out as a shaky breath as atsumu lifted his head to look at him. 

“can ya repeat that again, ‘samu?” osamu sighed as he braced himself for what was about to come. 

“i said, i won’t be doin’ volleyball anymore after high school. i’ve decided that i wanna start takin’ cooking seriously and start my own business,” he stared straight into atsumu’s eyes, gauging his reaction. 

“just because i ain’t doin’ volleyball, doesn’t automatically mean i’m less successful than ya by default,” he suddenly grabs the collar of atsumu’s jacket, “if yer so dang sure you’ll be the happier one, then come back to me when we’re old geezers! wait until then to frickin’ laugh in my face and say that you were happier!”

something inside of atsumu snapped and gave osamu a vicious glare.

he calmly stated, “if that’s how ya wanna do it, fine,” atsumu gripped his brother’s collar, “when we are on our death beds, i’m gonna look at ya right in the face and tell ya i had the happier life!”

~

it’s been a week since atsumu last spoke to his brother, the altercation being the last time. truthfully, atsumu was genuinely lost. the realization that his brother was pursuing a different career path than him finally sunk in, and so many emotions came at him all at once. atsumu didn’t know what to think, what to feel, and it scared him. it scared him knowing that he couldn’t do anything to set his thoughts straight. it also made him feel like he was incapable of keeping his emotions in check. he was miya atsumu, one of japan’s greatest youth setters. something like this should’ve been a breeze for him to overcome, right?

right?

atsumu sighed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 00:28 am. the blonde setter knew you were still awake, and decided to text you. 

a loud ding! woke you up instantly and you hurriedly checked your phone to see your boyfriend texting you at an ungodly hour. you heard from suna what happened between the miya twins and when you asked atsumu about it, he ignored your question and walked away, your shouts of his name and pleas for him to come back fading into the distance. after that day, you gave atsumu some space, hoping that he would come talk to you about it but after a week of not hearing from him, you grew worried but still gave him the space he desperately needed. 

tsum-tsum: oi, are ya still awake? lemme come over

you: i’m awake now! ill unlock my door for you. just lock it when u get inside please 

tsum-tsum: omw now 

twenty minutes later, you faintly heard the front door open and close, the lock sliding into place. footsteps were shuffling closer and closer to your room until the door opened, revealing your disheveled boyfriend. the under eye bags, his immaculately styled hair now sticking up in different directions; atsumu truly looked like dog shit, you thought. 

you motioned for your boyfriend to come lay next to you, immediately curling underneath your comforter. atsumu laid his head on your chest as you gently stroked his hair and wrapped your other arm around his broad shoulders. 

“‘m sorry,” he whispered. 

“don’t worry about it ‘tsumu. your feelings and how you reacted are valid. i would’ve felt the same way if i was in your shoes, y’know,” you reassured him. you brought your hand from his hair to cup his chin, gingerly lifting his head to face you. 

“do you mind telling me what was going through your head for the past week? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

atsumu immediately poured out his feelings for you. his fear of losing osamu, his partner-in-crime, and being all alone. osamu was truly the only person that could keep up with him, and for that he was grateful, but what was he going to do now that osamu is moving on? atsumu always left people behind due to his hunger to improve his skills as a setter, but never once he thought that it would happen to him, let alone it would be his brother who ceased the “terror of the miya brothers.” he also recalled the memory to you, what happened at the gym and the aftermath. 

he felt your body shaking slightly, confusion spreading across his face as he watched you fail miserably to contain your laughter. 

atsumu pouted, “oi! is my pain funny to ya or somethin’?! yer supposed ta be supportin’ me through my troubles, babe,” you laughed even harder at his pout.

“oh ‘tsumu, you never fail to make me laugh,” he glowered at you, “it’s just- you and osamu will be just fine.” 

before he could protest, you placed your hand over his mouth, “shhh, let me explain, love. ‘samu knew for a long time that you were gonna make it further into the volleyball path than he was. your love for volleyball is greater than his, and he knew that his time with you on the court wasn’t gonna last any longer,” you removed your hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. 

“but the last thing ‘samu knew he can do for you before he officially left volleyball, was to challenge you. that’s why he taunted you that day y’know. he wanted you to keep going without him. he supports ya regardless of whatever path you take in the future. hell, maybe one day, your paths will cross when you both are older and happy in your future lives,” you chuckled.

it was silent after. you and atsumu laid in each other’s arms. while you were trying your hardest to stay awake, the blonde setter seemed to be deep in thought about what you said. 

finally, after moments of silence, atsumu spoke up.

“i’m gonna beat him, ‘n i know damn well i’m gonna have a happier life than him.”

you giggled at his declaration. 

“can’t wait to see you achieve that, atsumu.” 

[boys-from-santacarla]

Note; I deeply apologize seeing as this is going to end up being long. Onto the information; My name is Ghost(mainly go by this one), Acid, Killer(more of a nickname), or Gore(more of a nickname). I go by he/they/xe/its, and I'm a dude, MLM and poly so it really doesn't matter much who it is. Born March 31st, being an Aries I'm a very loud and energetic person. I'm also very impulsive and get myself into deep shit, even if I don't realize I'm doin' it. I get overly loud when the topic is about something I enjoy or is into, if I try flirting on purpose it's ass but when I do it without realizing I get called a huge flirt. Big music and art geek, I have sketchbooks upon sketchbooks filled just sitting around in my room. I listen to a lot of rock like Queen, Guns N Roses, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, ACDC, Nickelback, KISS, Slipknot, KoRn, and on and on. Although I listen to every genre of music minus country(although there are few songs I can deal with). Big tattoo/piercing person, if you have one visible I will point it out and geek out about it. Although literally don't ask me to name a few songs unless I've been rambling on about it because I have the shittiest memory. I dye my hair so often it's surprising my hair is still healthy. I have literally bleached my hair, dyed it red and let that fade for a week, then dyed it blue and have been touching up the blue ever since then. If it wasn't due to money problems and the fact it's hard to borrow in my town my hair would probably have my hair a different color every two weeks. I ramble quite a bit and have the shittiest focus and memory, so you may have to pull me to the side and tell me to calm down. Would definitely compliment on the boys looks, specially their outfits. I'm a coffee and monster addict at this point, you'll see one or the other in my hand, and the occasional water bottle because I try to keep myself health. My love language is through touch and insulting people. Ex, "I fucking love you dumbass" or flipping you off playfully as a way of saying "i love you bitch". Smoking doesn't bother me, grew up around it my entire life. I love riding on motorcycles, no matter the weather, is it cold asf, nice idgaf, is it raining, shit lets go. I have a bad(good in some people's eyes) of using petnames/nicknames for everyone. Everyone has a wholesome petname from me and then I'll call them a whore or some shit. I cuss too much for my own good, I literally don't have a filter in my entire body. I will impulsively say shit, sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes it's a bad thing. Due to my anxiety I try to stay away from large crowds, but if I'm in them (aka on the boardwalk) I will have music blaring in my ears and my ears glued into my current sketchbook. Although I currently don't have them, I'm going to add them anyways because I'm going to end up getting them when I have the money to go to a piercer or to get a kit. I want a shit ton of piercings. Such as snake bites(lip piercing), tongue, septum, all of the piercings finished on my ears, and bridge. I've stated once I'm a big tattoo geek, so I want a quite a bit of those. I'm definitely a big "oh let's do it myself" person, and I have tried giving myself a septum piercing. (it would've worked if it wasn't for the fact I did it too low to be able to flip it up to hide it) I love the adrenaline of fights, it doesn't matter if I win or loose, although I do prefer if I win. I literally get the most random urge to fight someone for the hell of it. Probably has something to do with impulsive thoughts and shit, but oh well. I'm a big respect person, I live by the motto "you respect me, I'll respect you". I have blackouts sometimes due to rage and anxiety, so I try to keep myself from having them. I have a bad habit of rambling and saying sorry too much. I tend to repeatedly say sorry whilst rambling as I tend to get overly excited and loud when I ramble. I'm a very talkive person if I know and trust you. If you're around me and you don't get your ear talked off or messed with, you're probably not liked or

you need to leave. It's one easy way you'll be able to tell if I get along with you or not. I kinda have a whatever/punk/alt style, a lot of time I just grab something decent and throw it on. Although you'll always see me wearing a belt and my platform shoes. I'm 5'0, so my obsession with platforms grew because of my need to be tall. I wear a lot of baggy clothing, I'm definitely more of a comfort over style person.

Ok, my dude, I'll definitely pair you with...

Marko and Paul

Oh, man, you three are gonna be some threesome (and not necessarily in the sexual way lol)

Just imagine THE MESS

The boys think you're adorable when you get into the romantic mood and try to flirt but end up saying bad pick-up lines, so they'll laugh, but will twirl their hair as whoerish as possible and follow the game. Or they would get on with their manly act and fight to see who will flirt back better.

Now, the chatting will be so goddamn long! You three will go on 4 hour-long conversations that'll get from a "look at this new t-shirt I got" to "so that's why Ronald Reagan was an alien". The worst part is left to the spectators like David or Dwayne since none of you three will be the sane individual and shut y'all up.

The blondes like your drawing, and ask you to draw them or random stuff and people CONSTANTLY, so you'll have many opportunities to improve your skills and try with different models. When they happen to find some of your sketchbooks, they try to impress you or simply give a small present by drawing you or something you like, or at least make the attempt since some of the "fine pieces" as they call them, they give you are like children's school projects.

And, man, about the hair, are you blessed to have the glam diva Paul by your side to give advice and constructive criticism to your hair. He will help you choose the color and will give it style from time to time if you accept. The process to dye it will be so much fun, and so chaotic; experimenting with the pigments ends up with wounds caused from the bleach and the currently used wardrobe disposed later.

A thing they love about you is that you can stand up for yourself if needed, but they rather you not to, because they know you handle yourself and the others well, maybe too well for your good. Paul tries to take care of you as much as he can so there is no need for you to possibly get hurt. It was enough trying to control Marko so he didn't get involved in some stupid street fight every night at the boardwalk to now have to worry daily about you too. Marko shares the passion for the adrenaline of this and will think it is hot as hell, but he protects you as much as Paul, maybe a bit softer than him about it tho, but if you're in the middle of a fight and it starts to get worse than expected, he dead ass will force you to back off. He'll finish the business himself, sweetheart.

As for your love language, don't worry, these dorks will accept you playful pushes with joy, and they'll give you some of them too. But if you accidentally flip and fall some meters before hitting ground, you know the rule: laugh first, help second.

Oh, and you better get prepared for the bullying. You're the smallest in the group, so that leads to a constant attack as a hobbit. Marko joins the quip, but I mean, he'll get humiliated along. Let's just say Paul gives you two a hard time about it. With all the love of course.

They love to get out with you and the others and go to the boardwalk, but they try to take you out on days it is not that crowded, or in hours where a small amount of souls are having a stroll. But, if you happen to go out on a crowded night, they will keep you focused on having a good time, but just mention your getting uncomfortable and you'll be back at the cave in less than a minute.

Paul and Marko really love your style, they think it looks badass and try to match tough outfits with you from time to time. Giving you cool shirts and leather jackets with some patches on them that they think are awesome. Don't ask why some of the clothes have strange-colored stains on them tho.

They go with you to get you ears or nose pierced from the moment you three decided doing it diy style was a bad idea cuz y'all ended up with a bleeding nose and an ear infection the first time of trying it, and because there's no voice of reason in the threesome, Star and Dwayne had to give you kids a very long lecture of not doing those things by yourself.