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ghost-ghost-baby · 3 years ago

Text

Narcissist (alpha!readerxOmega!Bakugo soulmate au)

An: this is heavily inspired by the song narcissist by younger hunger definitely recommend listening to it!

An: BIG TY TO MY BETA FOR EDITING THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER OF A FIC WE STAN!

Word count: 3.2k (ur welcome)

Summary: Bakugo being a little shit basically- Mina and Denki r sick of him- reader runs out of scent blockers-

Warnings: omegaverse, swearing, Bakugo being a dick, reader just thinks he’s hot, gets a bit spicy but nothing graphic, non traditional dynamics (subby alphas) drug use (weed)

You were in a familiar room, one you’d come to love since you’d started dreaming of it, and you sat on the bed and waited�� any moment now.

“Oi, are you here, shithead?” The voice of your omega was dreamier than it was in real life; his harsh words unable to punctuate the tranquility of your dream.

“I always am, Katsuki!” You chirped, grinning as he slowly faded into existence. The black tank top and jeans he wears make him look far too good, and your brain short-circuited for a few seconds.

“I told you not to fucking call me that!” He growled, but you only laughed. Reaching out to grab his hands before he could stop you, you pull him down so you could kiss him. Any anger he had quickly melted away, and Katsuki had pulled one hand away to rest on your shoulder and pushed back. You got the point, you pulled away for air and leaned back on your elbows as you did. Katsuki followed and straddled you without a moment of hesitation. His mouth latched onto your neck and you let out a hum. With one hand gravitating to tangle in his hair, he gave you another push that had you lying flat on your back.

“Hey-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t ruin this.” Katsuki bit down on your throat and you squeaked, although he licked over the mark seconds later to soothe it, and only pulled away to kiss you when you tried to talk again. You melted, let your hands wander down to his thighs, and had your thumbs rubbing absent-minded circles. Then, Katsuki was unbuttoning the shirt you had on, hands quickly trailing lower to-

“Y/N! Did you hear what Mr. Aizawa said?” Mina’s voice brought you back from the dream you had the night before, and you blinked at her as you blanked.

“No way I'm working with their dumbass!” Katsuki snarled as Kiri forced him into a seat at your table, and you turned your head to Sero with a questioning look. He usually knew what was going on in class.

“We have a group project for a presentation, Mr. Aizawa picked the groups-”

“Oh hell yeah, all my best bro’s working together? Sounds like fun to me!” Denki leaned over to hug you and Mina, and the pieces started to click together. You were working on an art project, with your mate, who hate-

“How could anything be fun with Y/n around, they fucking ruin everything.” Katsuki grumbled to himself, refusing to meet your eyes despite sitting opposite you. Kiri mouthed an apology to you from his seat next to Katsuki. Honestly, you had no idea why he’d decided to act like… such a brat really, but it was just an act, however annoying it was. The two of you were soulmates, he’d come around, eventually.

“Oh hush, Bakugo, Y/n’s a riot and we all know it! You’re the one who goes to sleep at like, 8pm” Denki came to your aid. The electric blonde then pressed a kiss to your cheek that had Katsuki gritting his teeth.

“So, what's the project, guys?” You flipped through your book to a fresh page, resting your chin on your hand as you waited for the others to speak.

“We have to show the versatility of styles and composition under a singular theme!” Kiri was the one that answered you, and the group immediately started throwing around ideas.

“I think we could do horror, a lot of horror artists have different composition styles and still manage to convey the-”

“Tch, that’s the best you could come up with? I’m not surprised, an alpha as shitty as you can’t be capable of any decent ideas.” Katsuki sneered, but you only smiled at him as the group agreed with your idea. Your omega merely grumbled and hunched over in his seat as the group discussed the different artists you could use as examples.

You’d stayed late to double-check something with a professor, and you were still flipping through your notebook as you walked through the unusually empty halls. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, and before you knew it you ran into someone, the same someone who shoved you against a wall seconds later, but your fear subsided when you realised it was just Katsuki.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, dipshit.” Katsuki wasn’t even sure why he’d pushed you up against the wall, but being this close to you, touching you… it was..nice…

“Tch, god your scent is so weak, you smell like a fucking beta, how’d I get stuck with such a runt, huh? Some sick kind of joke.” Katsuki’s tone didn't match what he was saying. The way he leaned forward to rub his cheek over your scent gland definitely said otherwise, but you stayed quiet, he always found some excuse to scent you, but he’d usually get embarrassed and storm off if you dared to say anything.

“You’re pathetic, you know? Being this submissive for an omega, are you sure you’re not a beta? It’d make more sense.” You bit your lip when Bakugo pressed a kiss to your neck, only hesitating a moment before he started sucking a mark onto your skin. His words bounced right off of you because all you could focus on was how hot he was and how he’d subconsciously put his thigh between your legs and thank fuck you were on scent blockers, or you’d never hear the end of it.

“Really, you aren’t even going to try and defend yourself? You’re even weaker than I thought.” A growl next to your ear made you shiver, and Katsuki pushed away with a snarl when he was satisfied. He cursed at you again and warned you ‘not to tell anyone or he’d kick your ass’ (he wouldn’t) before he walked away, leaving you to walk home with your head completely in the clouds.

“What took you so fucking long, huh idiot?” Katsuki was on you the second you appeared in the dream, pulling you down into a rather ferocious kiss before you could say anything. He bit your lip when you didn’t open your mouth fast enough, swallowing any protests you would have made, and continued to kiss you until you were dizzy. “I’ve been waiting two hours…” He pulled away to kiss under your jaw, and if you didn’t know him so well you’d miss the insecure tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Midoriya wanted-” You stopped when Katsuki growled, biting down so hard you were surprised he didn't draw blood.

“Why the fuck are you saying his name here, huh? Are you tryna piss me off?” He pulled away to sneer at you. You opened your mouth to explain, but the words died in your throat when he unzipped your hoodie, and any coherent thought you had went out the window when he started to kiss your neck.

Everything was ready. The lounge room was set up, complete with snacks, drinks, and stationery for you and your friends to work on the project. They were meant to be here any second, and you couldn’t help but hover near the door to your apartment. You weren’t used to having people over and it still put you on edge having others in your space. But that thought left your head when a knock sounded on your door. You quickly opened it and were almost knocked over by Denki and Mina engulfing you in a hug.

“Thanks so much for hosting bro!”

“Awww you laid out all these snacks and stuff too! An omega’s gonna be really lucky to have you one day Y/n!” They pushed inside. Denki closed the door as Mina oohed and aahed over the setup, their praise had a slight blush rising to your face as you sheepishly rubbed your neck. Sero was next, quickly hugging you before he joined Denki and Mina, then Katsuki and Kirishima last. The blonde pushed past you without saying hello, but Kiri pulled you into a hug so tight you couldn’t breathe for a second, and was complimenting the setup as you took a seat. You tried to sit next to Mina, but Denki let out a whine and the pair was pulling you down between them before you had time to protest. Denki immediately leaned on you once you were settled. Katsuki couldn’t focus on the project, how could he, when his two dipshit friends were all over his mate. And you weren’t even doing anything to stop them! In fact, you were leaning into their hugs and giggling at every stupid joke they made! It had Katsuki fuming. Kirishima was the only one close enough to smell the angry shift in his scent, and he glanced between his friend and you, slowly putting the pieces together. You really had no idea what was happening, but Denki’s head was on your shoulder, and Mina’s arm around your waist as she asked questions about the project, giggling and pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever you got confused, which happened more than you’d like to admit. The blonde gritted his teeth when Mina’s hand went to your thigh, you were his! Nobody else should ever be touching you like that! You should know better! So when you excused yourself to grab something from your room, of course he made up some excuse about needing the bathroom so he could follow you.

The door to your room closed with a click, and you quickly spun around, expecting to see Mina or Denki, anyone except Katsuki to be honest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was seeing red at this point. He cornered you and made you stumble back until your waist hit your desk.

“Uh- getting more pens-?” You held out the pack of pens with a confused look on your face that only made Katsuki angrier. How were you so stupid? And so fucking cute when you were- he cut off that thought, he needed to focus on yelling at you. Not the way your brows furrowed and how you nervously bite your lip as you waited for him to say something. Wait- were you blushing? Fuck, maybe he should-

“Katsuki? Are you oka-“

“Shut the fuck up, dipshit.” He snarled. Then, catching you both off guard, he leaned forward and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered closed immediately. He’d only kissed you in your dreams, which was nothing compared to this, and you hesitantly placed your hands on his waist. His hands went to your hair to pull you closer, tugging it until you got the message and parted your lips for him. Katsuki let out a hum of approval as he deepened the kiss, why hadn’t he done this sooner? You couldn’t focus on anything other than how much Katsuki tasted like caramel, he didn’t taste like caramel in the dreams. You couldn’t help but whine when he pulled back. Another insistent tug on your hair had you tilting your head back, and Katsuki didn’t waste any time kissing over your neck. You were so lost in the feeling you almost missed the words he growled against your skin.

“You should know better, you’re mine. Other people shouldn’t be fucking touching you like that.”

“Do you think they’re like…. Finally-” Mina made a hand gesture that had Denki cackling, even Kiri cracked a smile.

“I hope so, it’s getting hard to watch all the back and forth.” Sero sighed, dropped his pen, and stretched.

“Yeah, have you seen how mad Bakubro gets though? It’s pretty fun to push his buttons like this!” Denki grinned as he leaned his head on Mina’s shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I don’t know… Bakugo’s uh… stubborn, to put it nicely.”

“Your scent is weird… are you wearing a different perfume?” Mina leaned her head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as you glanced at Katsuki. After whatever the fuck had happened in your room, he’d gone back to acting like he hated you, so, you’d kept letting Denki and Mina do whatever they wanted. He had his eyes fixated on the work, and you turned back to Mina with a smile.

“Oh, sorry about that! I forgot to refill my scent blockers and my doctor’s not available until next week.”

“Don’t be sorry, bro! It’s nice, like really, really nice!” Denki came up behind you, throwing a quick glance at Katsuki before he leaned forward, crooning and rubbing his cheek over your scent gland, Mina doing the same a moment later. The pen Katsuki was holding snapped, his angry scent pumping out in waves as he glared daggers into the book in front of him, all too aware of you laughing.

You were hyper-aware of how strong your scent was, this was the longest you’d gone without scent blockers since you’d presented, and you’d lit a scented candle to try and cover it up. It hadn’t really worked, maybe you should light some incense-

“Y/n! Sorry we’re early!” Mina’s hand on your shoulder broke you from your thoughts, and you shook your head before you smiled. Denki cut you off before you could apologize about your scent.

“Damn Y/n! It smells like you baked cookies- oh my god did you bake-”

“Don’t be stupid, babe, it’s just their scent.” Mina shoved him inside, shaking her head as she followed and closed the door behind her.

“Oh! Of course!” Denki nodded, and he and Mina linked arms with you. They walked you over to the couch and sat you all down with grins on their faces.

“Uh… guys-?” You didn’t trust that look, it never leads to anything good.

“Well, since the project is like, 99.5% done-” Mina started, hand coming up to play with your hair.

“We thought we deserved a reward!” Denki interrupted, reaching into his bag and producing a blunt. You felt your own grin forming.

“Oh my god- is that from-”

“Shinso! You know he sells the best stuff on campus, I decided to splurge for my bros!” Denki looked incredibly pleased with himself, and you couldn’t help but tackle the blonde in a hug.

“Oh my god Denki, you’re the best!”

The three of you were blazed by the time the others got there. Sero happily bounced over to share the blunt, while Katsuki and Kiri just sighed and sat down with you. Katsuki’s eyes instantly zoned in on where you were lying on Mina and Denki on the couch. He was oddly silent as he tried to keep his cool, the nagging thoughts that had always been there slowly got stronger. He’d always had to be strong, people perceived him as weak just because of his dynamic, so he’d rejected the thought of being with an alpha, hoping for a beta or omega. Or you. You never made a big deal out of your dynamic, and always treated him as an equal. Then the dreams started. He loved you, he really did! But his whole reputation would go down the drain if he was claimed by an alpha, especially one with such a weak scent and mild presence. So…. he pretended to hate you in public because the two of you had your dreams, where nobody could judge him! Even if they did pale in comparison to real life. But lately… he couldn’t stop wondering… were you getting tired of waiting? With the way you were acting… the thought made his stomach turn and his canines come out. Especially since you had run out of blockers. Your scent getting stronger and stronger as the days went by. You were his alpha! You shouldn’t be scenting other people! Especially omegas! And you certainly shouldn’t be laying on them while you were ignoring him! You hadn’t even said hello to him! You were too busy getting high with those assholes like you didn't belong to him! You were his, it wasn’t fair!

Mina was the last out of the apartment. She kissed your cheek and winked at you as the door closed. The exhaustion set in as you leaned against the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Katsuki growled and made you startled when you saw him by the table. You only shrugged as you went to pack up the stuff on the couch.

“Denki got us some weed because the project was done-”

“Not that, dickhead! They were all over you!” He marched over to you, trying to ignore how good you smelled up close.

“And? We’re not-” You responded, and Katsuki was shoving you before he realized, ignoring the way you yelped as you fell on the couch. You sprawled on your back and glaring up at him.

“Katsuki! What the fuck!” Katsuki didn’t reply, eyes traveling over your vulnerable form. Flush rose to his face as he realized how provocative the position was, causing warmth to pool in his tummy. If kissing was so much better in reality, what would it be like to be inside you? Feel you clench around him and pull his hair when he hit your sweet spot? Would your thighs shake the same in real life when he just kept going? The omega didn’t even realize his scent had changed, he just licked his lips and stared at you with hooded eyes, fuck he wanted-

“Are you okay? You zoned out.” Fuck, when had you gotten up? You were so close now, your scent overwhelming. He never wanted you to go on blockers again.

“Fuck, Katsuki! Katsuki! Are you in heat?” It finally dawned on you. Katsuki’s scent had taken on a sweeter tone it didn’t usually have, and with the way he kept zoning out, it was obvious. Plus thoughts of him on top of you that wouldn’t leave your brain alone. Your question snapped him out of his daze, and the omega snarled at you, stepping back and stumbling when a jolt of pain went through him.

“Fuck off, like you could trigger-” His voice cut off as another wave of pain went through him, causing you to reached out to steady him without thinking. The omega was going to let out a growl but it quickly changed to a whine as it escaped his mouth. You pulled your hand back like it had burned, although your mate’s temperature was so high it wasn’t out of the question. You took two steps back and froze when a feral snarl ripped through the room, dark red eyes pinning you in your place.

“He-hey Katsuki…” Your voice stopped his growling, and it took every ounce of self-control you had to stay coherent as he advanced, your rut already trying to cloud your judgment. Your eyes darted around the room, maybe you could make it to the bathroom? Then Katsuki could ride out his heat and you could talk about it? yeah. Katsuki was only a foot away from you now, the grin he had on was somehow more unsettling than the snarl, and you shook your head to get some of your resolve back. Okay, three, two, one-

You made it maybe ten centimeters before Katuski caught you, and pushed you back down on the couch. He wasted no time sitting on your lap and tilting your face up to look into his eyes.

“You’re not getting away from me, Alpha. I know you want this. I should have done this months ago.” Sincerity shone through your omega’s lidded eyes, and you felt your small shred of resolve shrink away even more. Your hands flew to his chest to push him away.

“Ka-Katsuki it’s just- just your heat, you don’t mean-“

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean, alpha.” Katsuki was back to growling at you. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinned them down, and used his knees to keep them in place. He went back to cupping your face, red eyes boring into yours as he thought of what to say and a growl leaving him whenever you dared to look away. You were so, so obnoxiously pretty, it made it even harder to focus. Katsuki kept getting distracted by little details, like how your eyes shone and you kept biting your lip.

“You’re so fuckin stupid, ya know that? Of course, I fuckin want you, you’re my alpha- I don’t… I don’t care what other people think anymore, I just want you.” Katsuki’s tone was softer than you expected, and you could only gape at him as a blush quickly rose to your face. You knew he didn’t hate you, but hearing him say that lifted a weight off your shoulders you’d been carrying for who knows how long. The moment passed, all the softness went away as Katsuki leaned down to kiss you, and this time you kissed him back without any reservations.

#bnha #Bakugo x reader #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #bnha x reader #omega Bakugo #alpha reader #reader insert #omegaverse imagine #bnha imagine

584 notes · View notes

dracowars · 4 years ago

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could i request a slytherin x draco imagine where the reader and draco have been dating for a long time and she’s kind of a bitch like draco but she also doesn’t believe in blood supremacy so people are just scared of her they don’t not like her but anyways she and draco do share same feelings towards potter and stuff like that so what if draco crossed the line with potter or the trio and ron and harry get super upset but the reader feels bad and goes up to hermoine after class and apologizes because she know draco didn’t mean it to go that far but he’s stubborn and she feels better about the situation but the next morning ron confesses that he had the twins help of putting something in draco’s glass for breakfast but in actuality it was the readers cup and they see the reader drink it and they freak out because ron said that it was a smaller dose of draught of the living death where they could get sick and fall asleep for a long time and hermoine freaks out because she says that the reader apologizes and throughout the day the reader feels super ill and draco is tries taking care of her until that night where she goes to sleep and pansy her roommate and bff (we love pansy) can’t wake her up and she runs to the great hall and tells draco and the trio feels guilty until the twins get an antidote and it ends in fluff? i’m sorry it’s so long idk how else to explain it 😥

unforgivable | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 2,7k

summary: where y/n gets poisoned due to draco's behavior

a/n: finally, i'm back!!! my hand still hurts, but i managed to write this on my laptop so it did not hurt that much while writing. hope you enjoy <3

warnings: angst, use of unforgivable spell, cursing, mentions of death

universe: harry potter

„Only those who really want to inflict torture on their victim and have sadistic pleasure in seeing them suffer, can create the right magical energy for a successful torture curse”, Professor Snape, your teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, repeats to the entire class, strutting around in front of the blackboard that is only filled with three words. Slowly getting bored, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling, which seems far more interesting than the repetition of the three unforgivable curses right now.

Your gaze wanders over the numerous cracks in the ceiling above you until you completely block out Professor Snape’s voice. As soon as you direct your eyes a little further to the left, you stare at your beautiful boyfriend, whose side profile is illuminated by the shining sun. Smiling to yourself, you move closer to him to gently place your hand on top of his, hoping to draw his attention to you.

But without success.

Draco does not move an inch, his gaze intently focused on the front of the classroom while he is listening to the lesson, not even stopping when you finally lay your head on his shoulder and sigh softly.

Since your beloved boyfriend obviously does not want to give you the attention you deserve, you look for something else to do to cure your boredom. Annoying Harry Potter and Ron Weasley seems like a good decision for you. It does not take you long to toss small, rolled up balls of paper against the back of their heads, careful to only throw it across the room when Snape turns his back to the class. Rolling their eyes, they turn to you in annoyance, but you just give them a malicious smile before they try to focus again.

Just like Draco, you despise Harry Potter profoundly. There has never been a real reason for your hatred, but sometimes you meet people in your life that you just can’t get along with. This similarity of Draco and you only bonded you together even more.

You were never very popular at Hogwarts anyway, neither with your classmates nor with the teachers. But you do not care. In fact, you even enjoy it when you walk through the corridors and the first years move aside in fear immediately. If Draco is with you, they even turn around and take a different path. And because the few people you actually do get along with are always by your side, you do not mind having a certain reputation at this school.

“You will write a twenty-page essay about the unforgivable curses until next week”, Professor Snape finishes the lesson and you excitedly jump out of your seat right away, collecting your stuff. Since your hand was still connected to Draco’s, you pulled him along.

“Someone seems to have a strong interest in these curses”, you giggle when you see his almost annoyed expression due to the ending of the lesson.

“And what if it does?”, he rolls his eyes at you and you wait until he has stowed all his things in his bag before you go out into the hallway together. Almost like a reflex, you intertwine your hands as you walk down the corridors of Hogwarts.

On your way to the Great Hall to get something to eat, you walk across the courtyard when you suddenly notice the Golden Trio, as they are called, sitting on one of the benches out of the corner of your eye. Before you can react, they are already standing in front of you.

“Sorry, but you are covering the sun”, you mention snippily and raise an eyebrow, waiting for them to clear the way.

“What was that about earlier, Y/N?”, Ron angrily asks you and you just shrug your shoulders ignorantly.

“Do not make a scene now, Weaselbee”, Draco interferes, obviously annoyed.

“Oh, it is you, Malfoy! I did not recognize you anymore, now that you have suddenly become so meek since your father is in Azkaban”, Harry mocks and you feel the situation slowly escalating. “How does he like his new home?”

If looks could kill, you are sure all three of them would be dead on the spot.

“At least I still have parents, Scarhead”, Draco fires back through gritted teeth and his grip on your hand becomes tighter.

“Depulso!”

As soon as these words come out of Harry’s mouth, Draco is pushed back through the air, his back hitting the brick wall. In shock, you look after him, your legs unable to move. The arguments between you and them happened countless times, but no one has ever raised their wand.

“Harry!”, you hear Hermione scold him, but too late. The anger is clearly written upon Draco’s face as he slowly straightens his posture. Reaching for his wand in a flash, the next few seconds pass in slow motion.

“Cruci-“

“Expelliarmus!”, you quickly interrupt when you realize what Draco was about to say, and his wand flies through the air, landing right in front of your feet. An uncomfortable silence spreads and even Draco does not seem to understand what he was about to do.

“You have totally gone crazy!”, Ron is the first so speak up and angrily stomps towards your still stunned boyfriend, but you quickly stand between them, protecting Draco.

“Ron, stop it”, Hermione talks him out of doing anything stupid until he finally gives in and lets her pull him away. With an disparaging look, the three of them disappear into the next corridor.

“Are you actually crazy!?”, you turn to Draco, who immediately lowers his head, obviously understanding that his actions were wrong. “These curses are called unforgivable for a reason, Draco! I thought you listened to Snape today, damn it!”

“I-I am sorry”, he manages to say, lifting his head to look at you, trying to show you that he is serious. “But you hate them too!”

“And yet I would never harm them physically!”, you reply irritably and shove his wand back into his hand. You then turn away, shaking your head.

“I apologized! Wait, babe-“

“No, Draco. You went too far this time”, you interrupt him and pull your wrist out of his grip. With these words you leave him alone and make your way into the filled Great Hall. Once you arrive inside, you feel the burning and piercing looks of the whole Gryffindor table on you, but you choose to ignore them and walk straight up to their table. Contrary to what you expected, their conversations suddenly fall silent when you walk up to Hermione.

“Can we talk for a moment?”, you ask her with no emotion in your voice or face, but your eyes are almost begging her, and your heart is leaping. After exchanging a few glances with the Weasley twins and their little sister, Hermione nods in agreement and follows you out of the Great Hall into the silence of the corridors.

“What is it?”, she sighs and puts her hands on her hips.

“I wanted to apologize for Draco’s behavior. He really did not mean it, you have to believe me. Draco can be so incredibly stubborn sometimes, but he would never want to harm any of you”, you rant to her while she listens closely.

“First of all, I am not the one you should apologize to, and most importantly, you should not be the one to apologize”, Hermione replies, rubbing her fingers against her temple. “We both know what happens to wizards who cast one of these curse-“

“Shh!” you interrupt her and quickly cover her mouth, suppressing her words. “I know. But- Well I-“

“I accept your apology, Y/N. After all, Harry and Ron were not entirely innocent either”, she explains to you and for a brief moment you see a small smile cross her lips. Right now, you would love to hug her.

“Thank you”, you say from the bottom of your heart. Sometimes it can actually be helpful to approach things with a little kindness.

“I am also sorry about what happened. Let us just forget about it”, she suggests, and you agree without hesitation.

And Hermione really is just as sorry as you are. Especially when Ron tells her about his nasty plan at breakfast the next morning. Hermione did not get around to tell them about your apology yet, which is why Ron still wants revenge. With the help of Fred and George, he prepared a small potion of Draught of the Living Death and gave it into Draco’s glass. But when Hermione finds out about it, it is already too late.

She can only helplessly watch as you suddenly ingest the toxic mixture instead of Draco.

You, on the other hand, did not even notice that there is something strange about your drink and continue to talk with Pansy, while still giving Draco the cold shoulder. Of course, he has apologized a thousand times, but if you do not punish him in some way, he will never learn from it.

Nevertheless, you are quite glad that he does not leave your side for the whole day, because when you feel lightheaded all of a sudden and shortly afterwards pass out, he is by your side immediately, catching you.

“Babe, can you hear me?!”, Draco basically yells in your face before gently patting your cheek, causing you to open your eyes again. Confused and disoriented, you look around, not remembering what happened.

“What- What happened?”, you ask limp, almost not able to get your teeth apart to speak while your eyes keep feeling extremely heavy.

“You passed out”, he explains as he is already heaving you into his strong arms. “I will take you to your room, you have to rest.”

Carefully, he lays you down on the soft mattress of your bed and covers your body with the blanket, completely wrapping you up before he sits on the edge of the bed and closely watches you. You weakly reach for his hand and run your thumb over the back of his hand before a quiet ‘thank you’ leaves your lips, drifting into a deep sleep.

After Draco lingers by your side for several hours silently, inwardly dying of worry, Pansy finally compels him to go to the Great Hall for dinner and then catch up on some sleep himself while she takes care of you. Only when she promises, does he consent and leave your room.

It is already late in the evening when Pansy goes to bed after finishing her homework while keeping an eye on you the whole time. Just as she is about to make herself comfortable, she notices that your chest is no longer moving up and down regularly as it was a few minutes ago.

You do not breathe anymore.

“Y/N!”, Pansy yells and runs to your side, placing her hands on your shoulders to shake you awake. “Wake up, wake up! Damn it!”

No matter how long she shakes your body, you will not wake up even when she slaps you lightly. You do not move an inch and your face looks as pale as that of a corpse. As if you were already lingering among the dead. As if you were in a deathlike slumber. If you had not suddenly started breathing again, Pansy would really have believed that you were gone.

Thereupon, she loses no more time and sprints out of the room, almost falling down the stairs on the way to the Great Hall. Because it is already so late in the evening, there are only a few students sitting at the tables, looking at her in shock when she rushes inside.

“Draco! It is Y/N! You- She just won’t wake up”, Pansy calls out across the hall and hurries over to the Slytherin table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watch what is happening with a sense of guilt from the other side.

Before Draco can follow Pansy to the common room, Hermione blocks his way, along with Harry and Ron, briefly stopping him, causing Draco to get angry right away.

“Get out of the way! I do not have time for-“

“Listen, Malfoy! She drank Draught of the Living Death, that is why she does not wake up”, Harry interrupts him and Draco’s eyes widen in an instant.

“What?!”

“Originally, it was meant for you! As revenge”, Ron admits, hiding himself behind Hermione, just in case.

“Are you stupid?!”, Draco hisses and takes a dangerous step towards Ron, but before the situation can escalate again, Hermione intervenes.

“Now is not the time! Fred and George created the potion so they will be able to make the antidote as well. We just need a little more time”, Hermione negotiates and Draco reluctantly agrees before they part ways again and he takes the quickest way back to you.

Staying by your side all night, the tension in his body does not fade and even though his eyes start to slowly feel heavy, he stays awake. He will not let you out of his sight and pays particular attention to your breathing, which initially remains regular. When Hermione joins them in your room, a vessel in her hand, he is finally relieved from his suffering.

“This is Wiggenweld Potion. It reverses the effects of Sleeping Draughts”, she explains and hands Draco the potion. "It is not exactly described how to give it to the victim though I once heard that a prince used it to heal a princess. With a kiss.”

Hermione did not even finish her sentence as you can already feel Draco’s soft lips on yours and within a few seconds, your eyes flutter open. Whatever is just flowing down your throat tastes bitter and you look around confused, looking into blurred faces that seem relieved.

“For Merlin’s sake, you are alive”, Draco breathes out, hugging you tightly, so tight that he almost chokes you. Inhaling his pleasant scent, your exhausted body relaxes, but you still can’t remember anything. After you passed out in the hallway, you felt like you were floating on clouds. You could not hear anymore, could not move and for a brief moment you saw a bright white light in front of you, coming closer and closer.

“What happened?”, your voice comes out muffled as you talk against Draco’s shoulder. He loosens his arms around you and takes both of your hands in his, running his fingers over your delicate palms.

“You were under the influence of the Draught of the Living Death. Ron apparently mixed it into your drink by accident. It was meant for me and- I am so terribly sorry. If I had not been so stupid, then-“

“Then I would still be sleeping now”, you finish his sentence and give him a gentle smile, the tension in his face and body disappearing. Slowly leaning forward, you connect your lips again, this time for a proper kiss. “I am not mad at neither you nor Ron.”

In the corner of your eye, you also see Hermione relax at your words, breathing out deeply.

“Did you at least learn from it?”, you lift an eyebrow and look at Draco expectantly.

“I swear that I will never ever in my life even think about uttering one of those curses again”, he explains honestly and raises his hands in defense. “I was stupid and I will apologize to them.”

“Already done”, Hermione smiles and opens the door, causing Harry and Ron to stumble into the room, Ron looking at you anxiously and with uncertainty.

“Do not worry, Ron. I am fine”, you reassure him, but his gaze still wanders between Draco and you, not sure how to judge the scene.

“How about we agree that we still do not like each other, but that we at least do no more physical harm?”, Draco suggests and after everyone agreed and said goodbye, he is the only one who stays by your side.

“You look tired, babe. You should get some sleep”, you mention and take his face between your hands, softly caressing his cheeks.

“You do not seriously think that I will let you sleep alone after all of this, do you?”, he states as he is already making himself comfortable on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him, protecting you from all the evil in the world. In fact, he does, and keeps his word. After this incident there has never been another one.

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persimmonteas · 4 years ago

Text

take a good look

4 times you gaze at him + 1 time he gazes at you

fic cowritten with @shinaus, art by @annypuff <3. you can buy mel a coffee and anny a coffee. please support them! their work is banging and i love them 🥺

pairing: vampire!shinso x f!reader

word count: ~4.5k

genre: slice of life fantasy (a tinge of coffee shop!AU), fluff, mutual pining, smut

cw: dom!shinso, size kink, daddy kink (inspired by toshi anon), praise kink, some degradation (he says slut 3x), fingerfucking, nipple play, choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, mating press, hickies everywhere, a cunt slap, overstimulation

first time: the coffee shop incident

Of course your favorite coffee shop is swamped. This place is the only good thing about waking up close to dawn, with drinks always better than what your office has to offer and not to mention the pastries they make fresh.

Letting out a small groan, you decide to wait it out in the line and do your best to hurry with your breakfast before heading into work. Thankfully, you always leave yourself with enough time to actually sit and enjoy whatever you decide to buy that day, opting for it over greasy break rooms or stuffy smoking areas.

Once the warm mug is in hand, you make quick work to try and find your usual spot only to find it occupied. While you won’t act possessive over a public seat of all things, losing the chance to enjoy glancing out the window and munching down your croissant seems to screw with your brain.

You act without thinking, making a sharp turn to go sit somewhere else only for your knee to make contact with the underside of another table. Shit, you think to yourself, hearing the clatter of their cup. You helplessly watch liquid run down the table and into the person’s lap.

You expect them to flinch, dart up from the table or, hell, even yell at you for your carelessness. He doesn’t yell at you and you don’t expect to see the colour of the liquid running down the table onto the floor to be red. Blood red. Fuck. A vampire. Hopefully, one who doesn’t eat you for your stupidity.

Just as you feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, your eyes flick up to meet the man whose day you likely ruined. You don’t see a hint of anger on his attractive features. In his defence, it’s probably because he’s busy looking at the way you’re gawking at him.

His unkempt hair and the deep eye bags adorning his sculpted face somehow make him look all the more endearing. It even looks like he’s wearing the smallest hint of eyeliner. Or are his eyes just naturally like that? Hard to tell.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts (and staring session) by him breaking eye contact with you to clean himself up, before rising to his feet and doing the same to the table. It makes you come back down to Earth, and thereby remembering your clownery

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you start, but are met with a hand held up in front of your face. You furrow your brows in confusion, having assumed his lack of aggression would mean he’d be more understanding but nope.

“No issue,” he grumbles in response, giving his trousers one last wipe down before swiftly weaving through the others in the coffee shop, flipping his hoodie up and taking his leave. Now, you’re even more confused.

Sure, you spilled something over him and the table, but you would have bought him another one? Paid for his dry cleaning or something maybe? Yet, off he went, moving so quickly you couldn’t ever hope to catch up to him. Fucking vampires, man, you shake your head.

The confusion eventually fades but not completely. You help one of the baristas doing the last of the clean up before settling into the strange vampire’s seat and letting your mind wander as you eat your breakfast.

second time: gawking at the gym

It’s a common occurrence for you to make it to the gym right as the rush of 9-5s ends, the perfect time in your opinion. Nobody hogging any of the ellipticals, the water cooler always left unoccupied and nothing but time for you to get through your usual routine.

With this in mind, you can confidently say that nothing out of the ordinary ever happens at the gym. Well, could say.

Carefully bringing your leg around to meet the other on your way off of the exercise bike, you're momentarily distracted by the sound of a nearby treadmill whirring so much hard that it sounds as though it may break.

Lifting your towel and water bottle, you make your way over in curiosity. It almost seems as if whoever is on the treadmill moves even faster as you approach. Once you make it there, you’re met with the man who seems to be continuously haunting your surroundings.

Despite his unruly purple hair in a band and all-black gym attire, vamp man still seems out of place. The athletic wear is a complete change of pace, considering the hoodie and leather jacket he was wearing during your first encounter.

You rid yourself of any wandering thoughts about the man and focus on him being the reason that the treadmill is about to be on its last legs. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him; the sheer speed of his legs is mindblowing. And a little ridiculous looking if you’re honest with yourself.

The moment is short lived when he slows to a stop, probably thinking the same thing that you are about the poor machine not being able to last another mile. He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat. Fucking vampires, you repeat to yourself.

Just your luck, he notices your presence as he dabs the side of his not-even-sweating face with his towel. He begins to smirk at your eyes on him.

“Little rude to stare, isn’t it?” he wonders aloud, voice much deeper and more luxurious than what you remember. Getting caught fills you with deep embarrassment. You stutter out a quick apology before making your way over to another machine.

Even with your back facing away from any passing people as you continue your routine, you can practically feel his eyes boring into you.

A few minutes is all it takes for you to turn to check if your suspicions are correct. You’re met with his shameless stare. He’s not even making an attempt to hide his gaze either, leaning on one of the back walls as he watches you, large arms crossed over his broad chest somehow making the skin-tight shirt he’s wearing even tighter.

This is torture, you think to yourself as you give him a polite smile, only to hear him chuckling at your strained smile.

“What? So you can stare but I can’t?” he tries, fully getting your attention once more as you stop what you’re doing. Sighing and smacking your machine, you come off of your machine and make your way back over to him.

Your confidence about approaching decreases as you see the full height difference between you two. You’re a fair bit smaller than he is. He looms over you even with his back still leaning against the wall.

“If you’re trying to stalk me, you’re doing a bad job. It should be me, after all. I’m the predator,” he lightly mocks you.

You almost stomp your foot. “I am not stalking you!” you protest. “It isn’t my fault that you apparently go to the same coffee shop and gym as me.”

He levels you with a delighted look. Humans usually don’t take his teasing well but you seem so much fun.

Throwing an annoyed peace sign at him, you make your way out of the gym.

third time: literally just that scene in the first twilight movie without edward doing donuts in his car into the lot

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out at this time?” The low voice comes from your side, making every muscle in your body suddenly jolt. You just left your friends. Why do creeps seem to have a radar?

Even as you pick up your pace and ignore the question, it only seems to egg him on more. Right as he starts talking to you again, he’s swiftly cut off.

Feeling a small gust of wind at your back despite the calm night, you turn in confusion. Where did the creep go? Your question is answered when you watch him get slammed against the nearest storefront’s shutters. A much taller figure overshadows over him, hand around the creep’s throat.

Even in the darkness, you can see the purple hair, unruly as ever starting from the collar of his coat. You stride over and pull on Shinso’s coat sleeve in hopes of ceasing his threatening actions—no matter how much the creep deserves the vampire’s ire. After all, you don’t want Shinso to end up with a track record after, like, a century (you’re guessing) without one.

“Shinso,” you say, eyes pleading as you look up at him—unaware of how much he enjoys hearing you so naturally say his name. He meets your stare briefly then rolls his eyes and releases his hold, watching the man scramble away. The chuckle that leaves him at the scene makes you wonder if he’s a sadist.

Before you can wonder much more, he grips your hand tightly in his own as he leads you farther down the street. The clasp strangely comforting to you despite his freezing skin.

“You really need to stop being so irresponsible,” he tells you, tone almost mocking as he (somehow) takes every right path to your apartment building. There’s no point in questioning how he knows this. After all, for some reason, the world keeps leading you to him in an array of coincidences that are starting to feel less and less coincidental.

When you let out a scoff, his hand seems to tighten further and you reflexively try to yank your hand away. He just stops in his tracks and turns to face you. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t question, especially since he speaks up before you do.

“Don’t make me have to watch your every move to keep you out of trouble, I’d like to have a social life too, you know,” he grumbles, before turning to walk away. It leaves you a little dumbfounded to say the least, since you’re not exactly stopping him from having a life. Y’know, with, how totally unplanned these encounters are and all.

fourth time: the confrontation

Apparently, not one thing can be your own anymore. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but the sheer number of coincidences between you and Shinso is extraordinary and only seems to escalate. You keep running into him even in places so busy that you think there’s no chance of running into anybody you know.

Now that Autumn is in full swing, the nights are colder and the leaves are dappled in brown and red shades. The perfect time to start going on walks through some of the bustling parks you live near.

You love the scenery, especially the large lake that lies in the middle of your favorite park. As dusk rolls around, you take the chance to get a walk in to enjoy the now barely visible sunlight and to ponder a certain vampire.

Not even one lap into walking around the lake, you catch sight of the colour that’s been plaguing your thoughts in your peripheral.

The deep indigo colour is hard to miss, especially when it’s on the head of the vampire you keep running into. Though this time feels a little different since you finally catch him when he’s unaware of you.

Sitting on one of the benches facing the water, he’s wearing his typical hoodie and leather jacket and is holding what looks to be a book. What kind of book a vampire reads is beyond your imagination.

All you know is that you finally have the opportunity to take the upper hand. Every time you see Shinso, he worms his way out of your questions. Or he leaves in an ominous distinctly vampire fashion.

There’s no reason for him to be everywhere you go, unless ... You want to confirm your hypothesis.

The plan is simple. You’ll act like you're still out on your casual walk and you’ll walk up to the bench and sit down in a non-suspicious way. You nod to yourself. Perfect, flawless plan.

It shockingly works … his book must be really good. You get all the way up to the bench without him acknowledging you. Since he’s only taking up one side, you don’t wait for verbal permission to sit down alongside him.

He still makes no indication that he notices you. His eyes never leave the book he has in his hands. You fixate your eyes on the silver ring on his index finger as he flicks through the pages.

You lean in close and try to keep your smugness about finally startling him from bleeding into your voice when you speak.

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re conveniently everywhere I go on purpose.”

For the first time ever, he’s the one caught off guard. Shinso flinches away from you and brings his eyes to meet yours. Without his signature smirk or witty comments, he simply gets up to take his leave.

Well. This certainly isn’t going the way you want.

After your many encounters, you can pick up on his overall mood through his reactions to you. Though, he’s never reacted like this. At least not since the incident at the coffee shop.

The dismissal ignites irritation in you. Why is up to him whether or not you interacted? Taking the opportunity while you still have it, you follow him.

It isn’t until he passes a large tree just off of the main path that you completely catch up to him. You realize he’ll easily slip away if you don’t move quickly. So you do, hand coming up to hit the tree trunk and essentially blocking his way.

His eyes widen at you. However, he makes no attempt at escaping.

“Why do we keep running into each other?” you ask with exasperation, eyes still on him as he moves to lean against the tree. You don’t move your hand, using it to grasp some control of the situation.

“You’re everywhere I go, it doesn’t matter where or when. You’re always there.” The rant is far from needed for him, he knows this already. But, you keep going.

“What is this? Were we lovers in a past life or something? Do you have some unresolved feelings?” The way you’re rambling makes you impossibly endearing to him. His classic chuckle slipping out stops you in your tracks.

“Nothing of the sort,” he curtly replies. You cross your arms over your chest at his usual demeanor returning. “No such thing as reincarnated soulmates, at least with what I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Though, the feelings department…” As he continues, he leans closer to you. So much so you can almost feel his breath on your face and smell his warm, spicy cologne.

“Is there a problem if I do have feelings for you?”

You blink at him. What? You don’t think you’ve ever been so caught off guard.. Feelings? Is that what this has all been about?

Every previous encounter begins to run through your head and you start picking out small things that back up his statement. The lingering stares, teasing words, protective nature. You groan and drag your hands down your face. Man, you didn’t pick up on any of his hints. He must think you’re an idiot.

Before you can give him an answer, he pushes off the tree, standing over you at full height. Assuming he’s about to attempt to leave once more, you’re surprised to see him turning back in the direction of the bench. When you make no effort to move, he reaches out and pulls you by your coat until his hand is in yours.

“I’ll take that as not a problem.” A smirk still on his face due to you indirectly feeding his ego.

Although, now walking beside him, you don’t miss the way his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. A gesture you recognise as one of his nervous tics. Did you do that to him? You grin at the idea that you make the great vampire feel that way.

“There’s a scooter rental place down by this side of the lake.” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, realising he’s been trying to hold eye contact with you. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you let me take you out on a ride around the lake, I’ll answer any questions you have, deal?”

The way he’s practically bargaining with you makes you want to laugh, but you keep your face neutral as you agree to his offer. Who turns down taking a romantic scooter ride with a hot vampire? Nobody.

Of course, he takes any opportunity to tease you, so he rents a smaller scooter so you have to cling onto him.

You don’t complain though. How can you as you enjoy feeling his back muscles flex? Not to mention, he keeps his promise and answers any and every question you have about himself or his past. And, wow, he has an interesting and long past.

As the sky turns dark and drips stars, you’re left with a feeling rising in your chest that you certainly don’t reject and with the hope of meeting him again—on purpose, this time. A planned event seems likely as you clutch the torn-out blank page of his book with his phone number scribbled across it in your fist.

one time: he gazes at you

“Hitoshi. You already have better night vision than me. This is so extra!” you protest, stumbling through the dark apartment as your vampiric boyfriend maneuvers you to ... his room, you think.

Hitoshi just rubs soothing circles on your back and you just know the fucker is smirking. You hear the light click on.

“You can take the blindfold off.”

Tugging the blindfold off, you stare at the new object Hitoshi bought for his room.

“Baby, this is a mirror.”

He nods while leaning against his bed, looking infuriatingly pretty per usual.

“You can’t even see yourself in a mirror. Why?” You arch an eyebrow in Hitoshi’s direction, trying to explain your absolute bafflement at his purchase.

“In case you’re here and want to check yourself out.”

You see nothing but innocence plastered on his facial expression but did you trust it? No.

A mindblowing second later, he stands in front of you, caressing your face with calloused, cold hands. A nice contrast to the sweltering temperature in his room he set for you. Hitoshi leans in to kiss you, gentle but firm. Your hands go up to fist his shirt as he intensifies the kiss.

He slides his hands down your cheek to stroke your lip and then slowly skims down your body.

“It would be a great idea to take this off,” he whispers, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You eagerly nod as he strips you out of your shirt and pants. Awareness of his plans finally clicks when he turns you to face the mirror.

The remark on the tip of your tongue dies when Hitoshi rolls your nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arch into his touch as he gently pinches and pulls them. God, your panties are already drenched and nipples hard.

“Fuck,” you moan as Hitoshi slides your panties to the side. Letting you lean against his corded chest, he hitches one of your legs off the floor.

“Go on, spread yourself open. Let me see how wet your slutty cunt is,” he murmurs into your ear.

You hard swallow as you spread your glistening lips open for him, strands of your arousal clinging to your fingers when you pull them away. Hitoshi digs his hand into your thigh.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He sounds amused as he uses his other hand to pull your hair by the roots.

“No, no, daddy, I’m sorry,” you apologize and move your hand back to where it belongs.

“Good girl, look at yourself. Wrecked without even being fucked.” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a half-lidded gaze. He’s right. With your heaving chest and puffy, soaked pussy, you look like you’ve been railed. But instead, you continue to spread open your aching pussy for your fully clothed boyfriend.

“Daddy, daddy, please touch me,” you plead as you grind against his hard bulge, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” If you were any more lucid, you’d have smacked Hitoshi for his lilting tease.

“Aren’t I always a good girl,” you whine, hands clambering at his thighs.

He chuckles at that, kissing your head before somehow gracefully crumpling to the ground with you in his lap. In a blink, he has you spread out in his lap as he plays with your clit. He slides a thick finger inside your tiny cunny as he grazes your shoulder with his canines.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You look so good like this, my darling little slut.”

You don’t even have a retort, too enraptured by the sight of Hitoshi fingerfucking your sopping cunt with his invisible hand. The way your cunt opens for him and gapes in the mirror spellbinding for both of you.

You moan as your hips jerk up. There’s not much more he loves than how your lips part and your legs shake at how he strokes his finger inside of you.

“More,” you beg. How can he resist your dazed expression?

“Such a needy baby,” he tsks as he scissors you open with another finger.

Another strum of your clit and pinch of your nipple and you’re gone, eyes squeezing shut. Your juices surely ruining his pants as you writhe in his lap.

He cradles your cheek and then grips your chin to turn you back to the mirror.

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. Such a fucked out mess.”

You gaze at the bruises blooming over your shoulders and down your neck and shudder, pleased. The aftershocks of your orgasm leave you warm as you languidly suck your juices off Hitoshi’s fingers.

“Toshi!” you squeal as he gently deposits you on his bed and pulls his clothes off. The bed is purely decorative and for you considering he doesn’t sleep. Although, even with a bed, you guys still fuck over every surface in his apartment.

Your sensitivity protests fall to deaf ears as he bends your knees to your chest. This time, Hitoshi is the one to spread you open. He slaps your cunt and you claw at the sheets. Pumping two fingers slowly in and out of you, he uses his other hand to roughly pull down your bra.

His chapped lips wrapping around your nipple and cold fingers groping your other breast feel overwhelming. Hitoshi cages you in, sucking wet kisses over your tits, leaving you no room to evade his overstimulation as you squirm to get away from his fingers fucking up into you.

Your sore nipples and cunt get a moment of reprieve as he moves down to concentrate on marking bites all over your plush thighs. Instantly, you miss being full.

When he passes your empty, clenching cunt for the third time to suck bruises on your inner thighs, you burst.

“Daddy, please, please, fuck me!”

Hitoshi trails kisses up your heated skin to your throat, laving over the hickies he left.

“Beautiful,” he croons as he finally positions his tip against your hole and pushes in. The praise and stretch make you whine. He stills as your tiny cunt clenches around him. Your warm, drenched walls wrapping around his cock makes him toss his head back in pleasure.

“My patient good girl,” he groans, pulling at your nipples.

“Fuck—more, daddy, more,” you curse as you squirm, your hips rocking up to meet his shallow thrusts. He doesn’t reply and grazes his fangs over your pulse point as he holds your hips down.

Your breath hitches—and he abruptly pulls back.

“Did my baby think I was going to bite her?” Hitoshi gives you a lazy smirk as he keeps his vexingly slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of your creaming cunt.

His large hand wrapping around your neck makes you squeak and suddenly tighten around him. Your favorite necklace. Knowing he’s using an insignificant fraction of his strength to please you makes your eyes roll back as your breath stutters.

“That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl.” Hitoshi starts a punishing pace as he strokes your clit with his free hand. His dark eyes never leave his hand wrapped around your throat, your ravishing lightheaded face and your bouncing tits. Hitoshi’s furrowed expression as he drags his tongue over his canines in concentration makes you whimper.

You buck against him, gushing around him and crying out his name.

The way you cum so prettily for him has Hitoshi hissing your name in your ear as he thrusts deep into your spasming cunt, chasing his own release. Intertwining his hands with yours, he presses you into the mattress to pin you down. Before long, his orgasm washes over him.

You gaze contentedly at Hitoshi as he pulls out, feeling empty already—and then you realize.

“Hitoshi! I swear to god if I look like a grape again,” you threaten as you try to stand up to head to the bathroom.

You don’t even take a step before he whisks you into his bathroom, laughing at you and kissing your forehead.

Well. You suppose looking like a grape isn’t that bad.

#bnha smut #shinsou smut #mha smut #pomoboba writes #pomoboba.nsfw #shinso smut #hitoshi shinsou smut

458 notes · View notes

polnareffenjoyer · 4 years ago

Note

Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

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vogueinnie · 4 years ago

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✍︎︎ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

━ WARNINGS ; fem!reader, age gap (reader is 20 and seungmin is 27), mention of cigarettes, smut (focused on the reader’s pleasure), oral (f.), everything is just fluffy and awkward, kinda love at first sight ━ WORD COUNT ; 2.2k ━ NOTE ; feedback are so welcomed!!

“At your brother’s work ?!” You clear your throat and apologize for being loud, giving Yeji, your bestfriend, a death glare.

You were supposed to go at her house but, as clumsy as she is, she forgots the keys… in the house. You had two options ; go back to your own, which means procrastinating and giving zero fucks about your homeworks, or go to her brother’s work to take back the keys.

“Hum, yeah… But, there’s a little something… He needs his keys to close the shop, so… we have to work there…” Second death glare. “But you know him, he don’t give a fuck as long as we’re not noisy ! And his co-worker is cool too, I promise.”

You were friend with Yeji since you were a child. Of course you knew her old brother, Hyunjin was such a nice guy. He may seems cold on the outside but he has the warmest personality and had always made you feel like his own little sister even tho you haven’t seen him in a while, due to school.

You sighed at Yeji’s puppy eyes, nodding, knowing that you’ve already lost the battle. She was the best negociator.

That’s how you ended up in front of one of the most famous tattoo shop in your city. Indeed, Hyunjin was the owner of it with his long-time friend. They both were tattoo artists since more or less 2 years. According to Yeji, he was drawing before learning how to talk so it seems pretty logical for him to work in something artistic.

Without knowing why you felt a little bit uneasy, asking the blonde girl if she’s totally sure that it won’t bother Hyunjin and his friend to have you there. You were just students and for adults aged 27-28 years it could be annoying to hear you talk about your lessons. But she was quick to reassure you, even showing you her texts with her brother through her phone.

“Hyunjin ! We’re here !”

As soon as you entered the shop Yeji screamed at his brother and you clap your hand to her forehead.

“Shush ! What if he’s wor- “

“Hello to the prettiest girl heeeeere. No, Yeji, I’m not talking about you, you ugly rat.”

Your smile was immediate after the blond-haired and obviously tattooed boy puts you into a warm hug, patting your head while poking his tongue to his young sister, like the very 28 years old matured adult he is. He had no customers at the moment, and he was just working on some new design, but you can still hear some little machine noises so you guess his friend was tattoing someone in the practice room.

“It’s been a really long time Y/N, how are you ? C’mon, have a sit. Y’all need to work on your classes ? You can sit there, I’m just here, he shows you the sofa right beside the table with his index, if you need anything. You’re at home, here. Seungmin will be over in maybe fourteen minutes so you have time to work.”

You both nod in unision, sitting on the chairs to starts working on an unfinished cases while Hyunjin was giving you two glasses of water to finally go back to focus on his drawings. Yeji and you were sharing ideas, writing and making some researches on your respective laptops. No breaks were allowed unless you’ve finished what you’ve started.

“Maybe we should add the fact that... Hey, Seungmin !” Yeji’s smile was wide and she greets someone behind you, shaking her hands.

Politely, you turn around to face the one you’re supposed to be Hyunjin’s co-worker, Seungmin. You hold back your jaw from dropping on the ground the moment your eyes met his.

He was, honestly, the most beautiful human being you have ever seen. His dark purple hair where falling onto his forehead in a delicate way, covering half of his dark brown and absolutely magnetic eyes. His pretty nose was pierced with a silver ring and his lips were as pink as your burning cheeks. His broad shoulders were hidden in a large black t-shirt and at this right moment your eyes were glued to his inked forearms. Of course you’ve already seen inked people, Hyunjin was one of them, but him…There was something special about him.

“Hello ? Is anybody here ? Youhou, are you alive ?” You heard Hyunjin while he was moving his hands in front of Seungmin’s eyes causing you to cut the contact between the two of us.

Apparently, he was gazing in your eyes too.

“Yeah… yeah, sorry I was just thinking about... you know... stuffs. Hey, Yeji, you good?“ Even his voice was soft and smooth, almost honey-like. He comes closer to the desk you were working on so you immediately stand up, bowing down respectfully and you realized how taller he was compared to you. “Who are you ?”

You frowned your eyebrows, almost agape by his suddenly cold voice and distant attitude. Your eyes can’t no longer detach from each other, and you open slowly your mouth. Everything about him was fascinating, from his lack of expression to the way he was nervously playing with his fingers. Well, you supposed it was nervosity.

“I... I’m Y/N. I’m Yeji’s friend, I’m sorry if we’ve disturb you.”

He hums and nods, leaning over you to take his cigarettes pack and you gulp silently at your sudden proximity. His strong and wooded scent was all around you, making you melt. You had the perfect view on the two black eyes drawn on his throat and you almost felt judged by them from acting like a teenager. It felt like they were staring into your soul, knowing your deepest secrets.

But the most humiliating part was probably the Hwang’s suggestive look on you.

—————————————✰ —————————————

You were so stupid. Nobody could be dumber than you. You were at the highest rank of stupidity. Idiot was your second name.

You sigh, dry throat and shaking hands. You were at the front door of Hyunjin and Seungmin’s tattoo shop. Alone. Indeed, yesterday your brain wasn’t working like usual, thanks to one particular man, and you forgot your phone there. Yes, your phone. You were that distracted. It was 2pm and Yeji couldn’t come with you cause she had classes, but you didn’t. And you really needed your phone after almost a day without it.

You came into the shop, looking all around you to realize that Hyunjin wasn’t here. Seungmin was staring at you from across the room, coming closer to you with your treasure in his hand, and you had forget for a moment how much his inked hands looks like. You stare at the pretty heart drawn on his thumb, the long black line on his major digit and the word “ LOVE “ on his wrist. You were so focused that you almost forgot about your phone.

“You like them ?” You jump at his slow voice and you can feel your cheeks burning instantly. Were you really that dumb to fix your eyes on his hands ? “You can touch them, if you want.”

He puts your phone on the table near you, holding out his two hands in front of you. It was almost sureal. Two adults, standing in front of each other awkardly. You can’t hide the excited smile to grows on your lips and with softness you touch his tattoos with the tip of your index finger, retracing them as if it was a pen. You were surprised by the softness of his pretty skin.

“They are so pretty... You points at a cute little smiley on his other hand. This one is my favorite ! You hear him chuckles, looking at you with such fondly eyes you were so destabilized. You back off him when you realize the situation, biting your lips. I’m sorry... I... I was just... I mean, you know, my phone...”

“You can stay. He said quickly. Hyunjin isn’t here and I have no appointment. I’ve heard you were working on some juridic cases yesterday and I... Well, I have a master in law, so I was wondering maybe I can help you ?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, first cause he was offering you to stay with him, alone, and second cause he has done the same studies as you, something you wouldn't have thought of.

The both of you were then sitting in the sofa, casually talking as if you knew each other since forever. You’ve discovered that he didn’t wants to be a lawyer but his parents had always put some pressure on him to have what they liked to call a good job. And it wasn’t his way of thinking, he wanted to feel free, to love his job and not to feel any pressure from anyone. He was so kind to you, making you more feel comfortable than yesterday. Shy, sweet, talkative and curious about anything you’re saying. A 28 years old man, mature, understanding and independant.

Needless to say that you didn’t talk about your school lessons, but just about the two of you. Also needless to say that you were fascinated. There was just something about his eyes scanning you everytime you were talking, and it felt so good to be the center of his attention. Your conversations were so fluids, you couldn’t hold back yourself to talk and to look at his beautiful features.

“Mind if I draw on you?” He cuts you off when you were talking, grabbing his colorful pens that was near him. He looks at you with his still hypnotic dark eyes and you nod your head with a shy smile. He kneels down infront of you on the ground as you were still sitting on the sofa. You internally thank the beautiful days for allowing you to put on a skirt. “Can I draw on your thighs? I mean, I have a big idea! But I want you to discover it, but if it makes you uncomfortable I-”

“No, no! It’s ok! You can, of course, do it Seungmin. I trust you.”

He smiles timidly, probably knowing that he got a little carried away. He was so passionnate about art that you couldn’t refrein him to do what he has to.

Seungmin then starts drawing on one of your legs, starting from your ankle to your knee. He draws pretty colorful flowers on your skin, it was so soft and beautiful you can’t stop staring at his work on you. He quickly reaches the level of your thigh and he was so close to you that you felt his hot breath against your shivering skin. You felt you mind dizzy for a moment, as his lips were also close to you. Unconsciously you tighten your legs between them, which makes him raise his face to look at you. His pupils were now totally black and this view of him between your legs was all you needed to lose your mind.

You softly grab his hair, making him smirk and immediatly starts to kiss your two thighs. He was so soft, taking his time to discover all of your sensitive spots. And you ? You were already lost, spreading your legs slowly so he can be placed correctly between them. Your inner thighs was his target, he sucks your flesh and you whines at the feeling.

“Please...” You see him smile, licking everywhere but your heat spot. Even your pubic area was drowned in sweet kisses. “Please, I... Do something I can’t...”

Seungmin hums, gripping your legs so they can rest against his shoulders. He lifts your skirt up, moving your pantie on the side and take his time to look at your intimate parts with hungry eyes. You clear your throat, embarassed that he looks at you like that and he gives your clit a kiss.

“So fucking pretty... Fuck, Y/N you’re so pretty, look at that pretty flower...” You chuckles at the surname he gaves to your womanhood.

He doesn’t waste any more time and starts kissing your wet folds at a slow pace, taking his time to taste your wetness. His tongue was heaven like against you, he was so precise and slow, you couldn’t contain your moans escaping your mouth. His plump lips surround your bud, sucking on it and circling his wet muscle all around your swollen one.

Your legs tighten against his head as you feel the heat waves crashing against your lower abdom like a delicious torment.

Two of his fingers join his tongue and he finally insert them in your clenching wetness. Your eyes rolls back the moment you feel yourself kinda full, but you lost it the moment he curls his fingers inside of you to stroke your sweetest no-return point.

You moan his name, biting your lips, moving your hips against his magical mouth as he helps you rode your orgasm, pumping his two fingers in you while licking tirelessly your folds and clit the fastest as he can.

Your breath was cut, and you can feel him gives butterflies kisses on you, replacing correctly your clothes on you. He stands up, cleaning his own fingers by licking them which make you blush at the view. He strokes your messy hair, kissing your forehead with a reassuring smile.

“I think I’ve found my muse.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin smut #seungmin scenarios

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

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A Truth Universally Acknowledged - [Hotch x Reader] - Chapter 1

masterlist // series index // next chapter

Summary: Reader is a member of the BAU that is liked by everyone...except her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k for Chapter 1.

Genre: Angst. Eventually Smut and Fluff.

Content Warning: None for chapter 1.

A/n: This is going to be an enemies to lovers story. It is loosely inspired by pride and prejudice. I decided to release it today because I hit 1.3k followers a little bit ago. Thank you all so much. 😊

--Chapter 1--

One of the lessons I learned early in life is that not everyone is going to like you. You can be the nicest, sweetest, prettiest peach on the tree…and you’re still gonna run into a mother fucker who hates peaches. And that’s okay.

I wasn’t for everyone; the people that loved me loved me fiercely and that was more than enough. It didn’t matter that some people didn’t like me.

…but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Agent Hotchner hated me.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Garcia had told me, but even she didn’t look super convinced.

Hotch wasn’t an easy man. He was intimidating, domineering, and intense; but sometimes when he was with his team, I saw him smile or even laugh at something they had said. I had seen how his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his son. He wasn’t cold, detached, and mean to everyone.

Just to me.

Occasionally, I try to mentally run through my time at the BAU to see if I can pinpoint the thing I did that made the unit chief dislike me. It really didn't matter if he liked me, but he seemed offended by my existence. It didn't make for an easy working relationship, and if I could somehow apologize for what I had done, then maybe things at work would get easier.

I wasn't a member of the BAU team that went out in the field; I wasn't a profiler, but I was part of the entire unit. Most people only thought of Hotch's team that jumped on a plane with him when you said BAU, but dozens of us stayed back and worked behind the scenes to make sure things ran smoothly. Even though I wasn't a profiler, I was still so happy to be a part of this unit; all I had ever wanted was to make a difference.

It just seems that the difference I made was a bad one.

“Hey,” a voice called, drawing me out of my thoughts. Agent Jaruau, JJ as she told everyone to call her, was standing beside my desks with a manila FBI file in her hands. “Did you file this?”

My brow furrowed as I took the file she handed me, running my eyes over the document. Everything looked right…until I got to the bottom line.

“Shit,” I mumbled, my eyes snapping back up to look at hers. “I’m sorry.”

JJ waved her hand, dismissing my apology. “It’s no big deal, I made that same mistake fairly often when I worked as a media liaison. That form is confusing.” She gave me a small, genuine smile. “It’s already been logged into the system…” the pretty blonde woman let her words trail off, but I knew what she didn’t want to say.

“Hotch needs to sign off on the change,” I finished for her.

“I can take it to him for you,” she offered. “I don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “That will just make it worse.” I stood, squaring my shoulders. “It’s okay. It was my mistake; I’ll take responsibility for it.”

She just patted my back when I walked by, making the dreaded walk across the bullpen, up the stairs to Hotch’s office. This sort of dumb clerical error wouldn’t be a big deal for anyone else, but everyone knew how Hotch felt about me.

Huffing out a breath, I rapped my knuckles on his office door.

“Come in,” his gruff voice called out.

I kept my eyes downcast when I entered the room, shutting the door behind me. I sort of looked at dealing with Hotch in the same way you’d deal with a predator. No sudden moves, no direct eye contact, nothing that could be seen as challenging.

“Sorry to bother you, sir.” I began, my fingers gripping the file in my hand tightly. “I just need your approval on a system record change.” I held out the file folder.

It was promptly ripped out of my hands. “It’s customary to look at someone when you speak to them, Agent.”

Heat burned in my cheeks, but I lifted my gaze, grateful he wasn’t looking at me but at the file in front of him.

“Why does this need a record change?” he asked, still not looking at me.

Here goes nothing. “I made an error on line 35.”

I saw the grip he had on his pen tighten ever so slightly. “I see,” he said softly. “Tell me, Agent, did you bother to read the form before you filled it out?”

"Yes, sir," I said quietly, feeling the muscles in my back tensing.

“Then how did you make such a stupid mistake?” Those dark brown eyes finally came to rest on my face. “I can’t have agents in this unit who are so careless. I don’t have the time to be cleaning up after anyone’s mistakes.” His voice had gotten sharper, he wasn’t quite yelling, but his words struck me hard just the same. “Is that clear?”

I nodded, focusing my eyes on his left ear. I was afraid if I saw the anger in his eyes that it would hurt me even worse.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

My throat worked as I tried to swallow my emotions. “I’m sorry sir, it won’t happen again.”

He tossed the file on his desk. “See that it doesn’t.”

I snatched the folder off of his desk and all but ran from his office. I made the return walk down the stairs and across the bullpen to my desk. I dropped the file on my desk with a shaky exhale.

I really wanted to be the sort of person who could accept criticism without getting so emotional. I wanted to be the sort of person that could put up a brave face and let painful words just roll off of me.

But I wasn't.

I stood in front of my desk for a moment, weighing my options. I could sit down at my desk and try to pretend I wasn't gutted, or I could run to the bathroom and cry alone.

I chose the latter.

Whenever I got so upset, I always felt like I had let the other person win. Running out of the bullpen and locking myself in a bathroom stall while I angrily dashed away the tears the rolled down my cheeks made me feel like a failure.

I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter what Agent Hotchner thought of me. I was good at my job, I had to be, or he would have already fired me. His complaints seemed to just be with…me as a person.

I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and took inventory of my reflection. It looked like I had been crying, but that’s nothing a makeup wipe couldn’t mostly fix. Besides, what did it matter if Hotch made me cry? He made Anderson cry all the time and no one said anything to him.

It wasn’t until I was tossing my makeup wipe away that I let out a slightly bitter chuckle; I realized I still mentally refer to him as “Hotch,” it’s what he told everyone to call him.

Everyone but me.

I had long ago decided that coffee was the answer to almost every problem life had. I think the only person who made more trips to the coffee machine than me was Dr. Spencer Reid. He didn't talk to me a lot either, but I don't think that's because he didn't like me. I think he was just awkward and nervous. Maybe I should try to talk to him more.

Dr. Reid wasn’t at the coffee station when I made my way there after exiting the bathroom, but another member of the BAU was. If it had been anyone else, I might have tried to turn and act like I wasn’t going to the coffee pot in the first place, but I’m sure he had already noticed me.

David Rossi didn’t miss much.

I made my way over to the kitchenette counter, grabbing one of my mugs out of the cabinet before turning my head in his direction. "Good morning, Agent Rossi," I chirped in greeting.

The older man returned my greeting, his eyes running over my face in a way that would have been terrifying if I didn’t know the man. I still wasn’t sure how someone could look so friendly and so calculating all at the same time.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked, dropping his focus to his own coffee cup on the counter.

My teeth gnawed on my bottom lip as I considered my answer. “There’s no point in trying to lie to you, is there?”

The man who developed the art of profiling chuckled at my question. "No, not much of a point," he informed me, his voice kind. He didn't seem the least bit off-put by my question. "It's also probably not fair of me to ask such a hard question."

“No, it’s fine,” I insisted.

The older man just shook his head. “We both know it’s not.”

I felt tears prick the inner corners of my eyes again. “I just…I don’t know why he hates me so much. And I wish it didn’t bother me but-.” My voice cracked, betraying how upset I truly was.

Rossi let out a defeated sigh and reached his hand out to cover my own. “I’ve known Aaron for a long time, y/n. He’s a good man, one of the best men I’ve ever met.” He patted my hand before he pulled away to pick up his own cup. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a dick sometimes.”

I just gave him a slightly watery chuckle. “It’s okay. I just need to toughen up.”

“You don’t need to change a thing, Bella.” Rossi gave me one last smile before walking back to his own office.

I had already turned my focus back to my own coffee cup when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a primal instinct to let me know that I wasn’t totally safe.

There was no reason to look around; there was only one person who could make me feel that way in this building. My focus remained on my cup as I stirred in my packets of Splenda. Every cell of my body was telling me to run, but what was the point? Besides, he was less likely to yell at me in front of other people.

I hoped.

The air shifted when he took the same place against the counter that Rossi had just occupied; I'm sure he noticed subtle changes in my posture, no matter how hard I tried to hide them.

I gathered up the empty packets in one hand and gripped the handle of my mug in the other. “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I moved around him.

I hadn’t taken more than two steps before he spoke. “Agent.”

“Yes, sir?” I spun on my heel to face him.

He looked just the same as he had in his office. Trademark scowl, closely cropped dark hair, piercing dark eyes, black suit, red tie. Most of all he still looked utterly displeased that I existed in his general vicinity.

Agent Hotchner seemed to hesitate for a minute while his eyes ran over my face. “I…I, um.” He paused to clear his throat. “I expect that form to be re-entered into the system before the noon briefing.”

Right. I glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time was 11:15 am. “I’ll do it right now.”

He looked like he would say something else but snapped his lips together, giving me a sharp nod instead. I took that as a dismissal and made my way back to my desk.

Aaron Hotchner had won this round.

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icollectyoursins · 4 years ago

Text

Bruno Headcanons x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon_From_Hell on AO3 said: “Okay I have several.... not request but more of ideas? Feel free to use them or ignore them. Jotaro being topped by reader? With dick or a strap? Bruno! Bruno headcanons.”

I have had a bit of this written since I started this blog, I just never had enough to it, so I’m glad someone asked for this because Bruno is one of my favourite characters and he deserves the world.

Link to the Bottom!Jotaro here

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Light mentions of protectiveness, gentle Bruno for the most part, dates to the museum, restaurant dates, descriptions of dicks, fingering, mentions of shibari or tying partners up, eating ass, eating pussy, oral in general, spit roast, stand fucking, breeding, pregnancy kink, pegging/fucking Bruno, praise kink (giving), spanking, public sex, sexting.

Word Count: 2387

SFW

Where do I start? He’s a gentleman, of course, especially when he first meets you. He’s not very obvious with his crush on you, but a few can notice that his stare lingers just a little bit longer than usual and his hand hovers in the air for a millisecond after you’ve touched it during an exchange.

Bruno is hesitant to start a relationship with you. His line of work is dangerous, both of you know this, but he really does not want you to get caught up in something you shouldn’t be. It would take a lot of coaxing from you and from members of the group to push him into being comfortable with it.

Once he does, he’s exceptionally gentle, lightly brushing his hand against yours while you’re walking together before grabbing. During conversations, he’ll put his hand on your back. He won’t show it, but he’s ecstatic about having someone to touch; someone to smile at him with romantic love, not just the usual respectful ones he gets from strangers or gang members. Sweet smiles. It makes him feel so loved.

He is so protective of you. He knows his boys can be a little on the rougher side, so he’s made sure they will all treat you with the utmost respect. Especially when he’s around.

I can’t see him lashing out at you unless you do something really stupid like getting yourself hurt or saying something that sets him off which usually only happens when he’s exhausted. Remind him that you don’t deserve to be yelled at or apologize and he’ll usually do the same. But, for the most part, he’s very relaxed with you.

He’s a busy man, but he schedules everything he does in his day down to the minute. Bruno is impeccable with his organization. He’ll always make sure he has time for you, even if it means pushing things around and bending the rules a bit. He wants to make sure you know that he’s there. He may be busy, but he will always have time for you.

For some reason, I can see him taking you to art galleries or museums for dates. Holding your hand while the two of you walk around admiring the different pieces. If you know anything about something he will gladly listen! Patiently watching you light up about the cute trollop fossil or how beautifully that flower is in that kind of paint and how you would have done this or that to add to it.

Of course, Bruno will also take you on romantic dates to restaurants overlooking the canal with some of the best food you have ever had, but I think he prefers dates that keep you physically close to him, where he can hold your hand instead of sitting across from you.

He also buys you jewelry, fancy clothes and perfume/cologne. Nothing too over the top, but subtle things that have more meaning to them than flashiness. He’s more likely to get a simple ring with 2 or 3 smaller stones than a giant one that screams attention.

He pays extra attention to the things you look at in stores and has mastered what your “oh, that’s nice” face looks like compared to your “I need to have this, but-” face and will buy whatever you really wanted behind your back, giving them to you as a gift later on when you’ve forgotten about it.

Further into the relationship when you two have moved in, he’ll often wrap his arms around you while you’re cooking, resting his head on your shoulder, or on your back if you’re taller, leaving light butterfly kisses where ever his face is.

I think out of all the adults in Bucci Gang, he’s the most likely to help you with dinner without having to be prompted. Bruno has a sixth sense for when you need him to help, suddenly popping up beside you and cutting vegetables or stirring the pot, giving you a sweet knowing smile whenever you look over. Though, on the weekends, he’s more likely to produce a glass of wine for the two of you while you cook which leads to someone getting tipsier than the other and being kicked out of the kitchen because they’ve knocked over their glass one too many times.

When you’re on the couch, he’ll call you over into his arms or sometimes just pull you into him. He prefers reading a nice book to watching a movie but will sit with you, book in one hand while his other hand plays with your hair or rubs your back.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on baths together. He installed what is essentially a jacuzzi in your bathroom just so the two of you would have room to be comfortable. Now, the only time you take baths is when you’re together.

Please give this man a massage. He is very stressed and tense, he needs someone to treat him with the same tenderness he gives you. Bruno isn’t one to melt, but he will relax considerably. He’s just more into making you feel good than himself feeling good.

Bruno’s kisses are so sweet. I don’t know how else to describe them. It’s like every ounce of his love and care towards you is put into a spell, which is then put onto his lips and then onto your lips. You never get tired of it. He’s not overly kissy in public, mostly just pecks on the cheek or your hand. In private though, he’s a little more relaxed.

Favourite places to kiss are usually your lips or neck and shoulder, which often leaves goosebumps down your back and sometimes other things. I honestly don’t think he’s that much into sex. Like, he’ll do it (and well) but I think romance and companionship are more important to him than anything else. If he can trust you, why does he need to do anything else? Your love is more than enough for him.

NSFW

6 1/2″, 2″ thick and pretty. His dick is just... pretty, like the rest of him. I think clean-shaven, uncut maybe?

Alright, look, he’s stand isn’t called Sticky Fingers for no reason. Bruno has been blessed with the magic that is fingering. Just knows exactly where to curl into, where to push, where to pull, swirl, rub, you name it! If you have a vagina he will make you cum multiple times before he fucks you. You know what? Even if you have a dick, he’ll probably do the same. OR he’ll get you really close and then deny, deny, deny. He loves making you writhe and squirm.

If he makes you cry, he’s a little concerned, but deep down he’s proud of himself. Will always ask you if you’re okay and if you want to continue unless you have already established you’re okay with him making you a complete mess. Maybe he’ll even ask you to wear eyeliner or mascara just to make it run!

This man eats pussy/ass like it’s his last meal. Oral in general is one of his favourite things to do to a partner because he can control it and clearly tell how much you’re enjoying something.

Will 1000% tie you up or use Sticky Fingers to keep you from moving too much. Loves to see you wrapped up in red ropes or silk, unable to move or think because of how much he’s teasing you.

On his more relaxed days, he’ll just use his hands to hold you down or guilt you into staying still. “You want to be good for me, right, cara/caro?”

He loves it when you lose control and clamp (or try to) your legs around him. When you grab his hair and lurch forward to try and encourage him to do more; give you more, but he never does. Not until he wants to.

Oof, but his favourite guilty pleasure? Spit roast with Sticky Fingers. SF eating you out while you try to focus on taking Bruno’s cock in your mouth. Oh, to have you sandwiched in between him and his stand. He would kill to keep you there forever; fucking in and out of you like a seesaw or forcing you to do it yourself.

Bruno bit his finger to try and keep composure as your eyes rolled back into your head, mouth agape on his length. You looked so pretty like this; visibly fucked out of your mind with his hands tangled in your mess of hair. Sticky Fingers had been lapping over your now soaking wet hole and clit for what felt like ages. Keeping you just on edge. You couldn’t decide what you wanted more, to please Bruno or cum before he wanted you to.

Sticky Fingers pulled you closer to it’s lips while Bruno thrust his hips forward into the warmth of your mouth, eyelids fluttering as you moaned around him. After a few more minutes, he decided he’d give you your reward finally.

“Turn around, dolcezza. Come here.” You less than gracefully turned around, feeling some sort of way about not having the constant feeling of his stand on you. Bruno grabs your hips and pulls you onto his aching cock. Both of you moan with the new feeling. “Now, just stay nice and still for me, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Can we say breeding kink? Yes, yes we can. We all know he’s nasty. He loves filling you up, feeling his seed drip out of you, cleaning it out of you with his tongue. Fucking anything. And if he does get you pregnant? (Assuming there would be no repercussions with the whole mafia thing) He would 100% take the best care of you. Bruno would massage every bit of you, giving you nice soothing baths (I mean, he’d do that anyway, but he’d put extra care into your baths when you were pregnant.)

No matter what size your baby bump was, he would kiss it every moment he got. He’d sing songs to it or read it stories (which you would be more than happy about because that voice).

The thought of you expanding with something the two of you created is so hot to him. Bruno would keep you like that forever if he could. Oh, and the feeling of him inside of you while you’re so full. Oh. He’s drooling. Just looking down on your nice, round belly and then pounding into you. *chefs kiss.* We stan breeding kink Bruno.

Oh, but let’s turn the tables. Fucking his ass. Oooooh, hell yeah. Slowly pressing into him while tying his hands behind his back or above his head. It makes me feel so many things.

I think he likes to stay on the dominant side with a vagina-having S/O, so he’d likely flip the tables if you allow him to. If you are into being more dominant, he is more than happy to stay under you (figuratively and literally.)

On his more relaxed days, or on days when you’re feeling a little down on yourself, expect SO much praise from this man in the bedroom. He’s gonna kiss every inch of you, caress you. This man will do everything to make you feel better about yourself.

Spanking. Would you let this man smack your ass? I would. On his more stern days, he will 100% flip you over his knee and make you count. If you’re into being on top, though, smack his ass. The biggest blush will sprawl across his face. Oh, and then making him count. God, he gets so loud!

A loud crack on your ass echoed throughout the room. You gripped the pillow in front of you, burying your face in the plush thing to quiet your moans. Bruno tutted above you.

“You have to count, dear.” His voice was stern and threatening. “Count with my, (Y/N).”

You poked your head up from the pillow, whimpering. Suddenly, the pillow was pulled away from you and his arm reached across to the opposite shoulder, holding you up. Another smack.

“One.”

You whimpered again, then stuttered out: “o-one.”

SMACK!

“Two.”

“~Uuuhnn. Two.”

SMACK!

“Three.”

“~Brunoooo,” you moaned out, unable to say anything else. He let out a sound of disapproval.

“Oh, cara. That’s not how you count. We’ll have to start over again. Weren’t you taught this in school?” He chided. You could only muster up a quiet whine, mentally cursing this man for having so much power over you, but still-SMACK!- you loved him.

Public sex is something he’ll never openly admit is a turn on, at least not to the gang or anyone else who isn’t his partner. Oh, but brush up against his chest and “accidentally” grope him or lightly tap his ass while passing behind him and he’ll do the anime thing where their eyes go completely dark. Nothing makes him more sexually frustrated than being interrupted by you touching him during a conversation.

He’ll usually find a closet to hide you two in and then he’ll give you hell in the form of lots and lots of edging. Sticky Fingers, of course, has your mouth zipped closed the entire time, so as much as you want to scream you can’t.

Sometimes he’ll stick half of you in the other side of the zipper and just kind of use you like that. Doesn’t matter what end, though he does have a soft spot for fucking your throat.

Since we’re talking about zippers. Yeah, I’m saying it. It’s been done to death, but I can’t get enough of it. Zipping off his dick and leaving it in you all day. It’s practical (when in a fight. He doesn’t need to worry about getting sacked if he doesn’t have anything there!), it’s easy, he gets to feel your tight walls around him all day, you get to feel him rub up against every sweet spot in you. Literally no downside. Unless you have to go to the bathroom.

Bruno won’t admit it, but he saved all the pictures you send him in skimpy clothes, lingerie, naked, etc. on multiple devices. Just in case he’s ever at work and needs something to relieve the tension, or on a job in a hotel, or in the bathroom. You get the point.

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iguessilovebakugou · 4 years ago

Text

Stranger || Bakugou x Reader || { Anon Request } || Stalking

TW: Cursing || Stalking || Threats of violence || Implied desire for Non-Con (not from Bakugou tho) Word Count: 5.5K

It started after the Sport Festival.

A DM that had been sent to your private social media account - a friend from your old school named Honoka. You hadn’t spoken to her since starting UA - and the moment you saw the notification, you felt guilty that this was how she had to reach out to you. She had been so proud of you when you got accepted, she almost started crying, hugging you tightly and telling you as much. She asked you to keep in contact in High School. You had promised her you would.

You had been so busy, it was hard keeping promises.

Honoka: Hey! I saw you on the TV - you were amazing! I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you pass onto the finals. Good thing though - you would have gone against that asshole.

Honoka: Not that you couldn’t have handled it!

It should have tipped you off that one of the quieter kids of school would have used such language, but it didn’t. It had been a few months since starting high school and people have changed faster. You didn’t think much about it aside from replying before your train pulled into the station. You might miss your stop and be late to school.

You were always punctual and refused to have something as stupid as that go against your record.

You waited until you were off the train, standing on the steps before sending a quick message.

Thanks! It was really terrifying. But I lost fair and square. Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t make it to the finals. So I guess it’s okay. :)

You decided not to humor her comment about Bakugou. While it drew a hot, angry tie around your neck, part of you understood. Honoka wasn’t alone in thinking he was...less than pleasant. It had been a point of contention, something that bothered you both that day and since. People were just wrong about him. She didn’t know him like Class 1-A did. A few short clips from some televised sports festival didn’t do him nearly the justice he was deserved.

You didn’t have enough time to put your phone back in your jacket pocket when it buzzed again.

Honoka: Still.

Honoka: You were so strong. We all think they should have made an exception for you.

Honoka: We should meet up sometime. Gtg! Text me after school to set up a time!

You wanted to question it but you didn’t.

You really should have questioned it.

King Explosion Murder was a perfectly good name.

Miss Midnight just doesn’t understand art.

The conversation had been going on for a hour. It was the longest that you and Bakugou had texted. You had moved from a group text to your own private thread. He didn’t text you like normal boys did - no pictures, no emojis, no stupid memes he had found. It was...conversation, one that hadn’t been as hard to keep going as you thought. you tried to distract yourself with school work while he replied, but found it hard not to keep your attention on your screen as the text bubble flashed.

Bakugou: It was better than “Deku”.

Well Deku was less violent

Bakugou: AND IT WAS STILL BETTER

Bakugou: THAN FUCKING DEKU’S

Honoka: You still up?

You stopped. Honoka? Why on earth was she texting you...oh shit. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and kicking yourself for forgetting to text her back like she had asked. You had been so wrapped up texting Bakugou since getting home that it just completely slipped your mind. Though, to be fair, most things slipped your mind around him.

You opened your chat with her, trying to figure out how to apologize without seeming like too much of an asshole.

Hey, yeah, sorry.

I started talking to one of my classmates and totally forgot.

My bad, dood.

Once again, she replied quickly.

Honoka: Who were you talking to?

There was a small part of you that wanted to ask her why it was her business, but you bit your tongue. She probably didn’t mean anything by it and some residual bitterness from her comment this morning was probably lingering. You took a deep breath.

Bakugou.

We workshopped hero names today. His got shot down by our teacher.

It was so sad. 🤣🤣🤣

Honoka: Why are you talking to him?

It wasn’t a question, not really. It was a statement. Like you talking to Bakugou was taboo, you could practically hear her grasping her pearls. You shouldn’t have had to explain to her why you were talking anyone, let alone him, and it bothered you that she felt she was owed that right. That she even dare ask the question. Your brow furrowed as you sat up in bed.

What do you mean?

Honoka: Why are you talking to him? He seems like an dick

Honoka: And isn’t good for you.

Honoka: You need to focus on being the best hero you can be.

Honoka: He seems like he would only drag you down.

Rage filled your stomach. Your hands were shaking as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. She had never acted this way before...right? She had always been so nice and meek and unassuming and...

You were confused, finding yourself chewing on your lip as you tried to make sense of what the hell you were seeing.

He’s my friend. I really like him.

Look, he’s not as mean as he appears on TV. He’s actually a really good guy. And he’s really smart and he’s going to be a better hero than even me some day.

So I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.

The chat bubble popped up. Then disappeared. Then popped up. And disappeared again.

It’s funny - you had never felt so threatened by someone not answering. But as the bubble flashed for a final time, something told you that you had fucked up.

Honoka was always quiet, yes, but she was also amazingly sweet. She cried when you were little kids at the ending scene in All Dog’s Go to Heaven, always scrounged up change to donate to someone on the street looking for food, and volunteered every weekend to help with the younger students struggling in studies. She hadn’t been born with a mean bone in her body.

But by the end of the week, you were certain the person messaging you wasn’t the same Honoka you knew. She had changed - and not for the better. Not in the slightest. She was growing more insistent that you talk to her - every night. And if you didn’t?

The calls were incessant. One after the other until you finally had to shut your ringer off. And the voicemails - she never spoke. Just let it sit for a moment before hanging up. And you were grateful for it - you didn’t want to talk to her. Every chance she got, she showered you with praise and adoration while slinging hate at all your friends in 1-A. But no one got it like Bakugou did.

Honoka: Stop talking to him.

It’s not any of your damn business who I’m talking to.

Honoka: If you don’t stop talking to him, I’ll tell him what a whore you were in Middle School.

The water of your bath was scalding, but that didn’t stop you from shaking. Why was she doing this to you? Why was she so adamant about making your life miserable? This wasn’t Honoka - not even in the slightest.

I’m blocking you. Leave me alone.

Don’t talk to me anymore.

No matter what, he was pure evil to Honoka. He was disgusting, arrogant, rude, a monster, a villain hiding in sheep's clothing and would do nothing but drag you down. He would hurt you, she said.

Honoka: Go ahead. I’ll just make other accounts.

She was as good as her word. At least that hadn’t changed.

Your classmates were starting to take notice. After the first few accounts were blocked, she started using a calling app to randomly call you - only to hang up the moment you answered. Sometimes it was once a night, supplemented with texts about what a no good, lying whore you were. About how you were just some slut who’s opening you legs for the first guy who gave you any attention.

Honoka: Fucking skank.

Honoka: You’re so fucking worthless.

Honoka: You fucking him? Is that it? Is that why you want to defend him so bad?

Honoka: He’s probably fucking every other girl in your class.

Other times, the calls were every hour on the hour. It had gotten so bad, that you started sleeping in later and later.

You raced through the empty halls, trying to will time to back up. You had slept in, missing your first train. When you got on the second one, you fell back asleep until the stop after yours. The only thing you could do was get off and just run to school as fast as you could. Class had started 20 minutes ago. This had never happened before - in your whole life. You were always meticulous about getting to class early.

You were a good student. A good person. You were.

“Well, look who decided to join us.” Mr. Aizawa didn’t even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice. It made it all the more terrible

You wanted to cry. You felt the eyes of everyone in your class fall on you. It made your skin squirm, your stomach flip. You wanted to turn around and just...run home. To crawl into your bed and...

You bowed low, your head almost hitting the floor. “I’m so sorry I’m late, sir! It won’t happen again!”

“Be sure that it doesn’t.” His glare hardened. “We’ll talk after class about your punishment.”

Punishment. Shit. You couldn’t speak, resigning to solemnly nodding as you making the walk of shame to your seat, collapsing down. You had to take a minute, to steady your breath. To try and collect yourself. At least at school, you had an excuse not to answer her texts. To ignore her and pretend like she wasn’t out there being fucking crazy. School was safe. School was free from it all.

Almost by habit, you turned and looked over at Bakugou. A small part of you was praying that he was looking at you. That his glare would ground you in a way only it knew how. But when your eyes met...the only thing you felt was misery.

You fucking him? Is that it?

Your heart raced, panic flooded your nerves, and all you wanted to do was run. Get away from everyone and just...just go to sleep. You just wanted to sleep. But Honoka wasn’t allowing that. You couldn’t stop thinking about half of the things she said while the other half had been resting heavily in your stomach, making you sick. She was stealing everything from you.

You’re a fucking slut opening her legs for the first guy who gives you attention. And of course it had to be that fucking dog.

No...no you couldn’t look at him for too long, afraid that he would know. Terrorized as you were, you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out. Because...what if she messaged him first? What if she told him all of her lies and...what if he believed her?

No. No, that couldn’t happen.

You pulled away from his stare, folding in on yourself. Just get out your books. Focus on class and get out your books. Your phone dinged and your blood ran cold. You dreaded even looking at it, but as you tugged out your notebook, the piece of plastic fell, resting against the back of your bag. It was as if some higher power was damning you to be always aware of the vitriol Honoka was spewing in your direction. The lock screen shone bright: 21 missed texts, 44 missed calls. But the most recent message sent horror down your spine.

Honoka: Naughty girl, sleeping in late for school.

You slipped out of the lunch room and made your way down the hall. You were going to put an end to this - once and for all. You didn’t know what game Honoka was playing at, but whatever it was, you were fucking done. She was starting to seep into every facet of your life and it was ending now. Right then, in that hallway.

When you got a safe distance away from the double doors, to ensure no one could hear you when you started screaming, you searched through your contacts for her number. When you finally found it however...

God, just looking at her name made you sick. The fact her contact picture was of you and her, eating ice cream at a beach, grinning and giving the camera a peace sign, posing as only 12 year old girls knew how, it drove a knife into your chest, twisting it even deeper the longer you stared at it. She was making your life a living hell. It wasn’t right, it didn’t make any fucking sense. Why was she doing this to you? Did you do something to her? Were you cruel in your last interaction? Did you make a joke that went so poorly that she decided the only way to get back at you was to ruin your entire life? To push you so close to the edge that...

She going out of her way to make your life a living hell and for what?

Well, no better time like the present to find out.

Your thumb slammed down on the dial button. Each ring was like nails on chalk board.

Her voice was even worse.

She said your name so surprised, before crying it out in joy. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Well...that...wasn’t...true?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Honoka went silent on the other end of the phone. “Uh...are you okay?”

“You’ve been harassing me since the festival and you’re just going to act like-”

“Wait...what?”

“The thousands of texts!? The millions of calls!?”

She didn’t answer. You couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face. You fucking got her. You caught her in her bullshit lie and she didn’t have anything to say for it. You hated to admit it, but part of you was excited to hear how she was going to explain it way. How she was going to break down and finally you could tell her off and it was going to stop and you could get a good night’s sleep and maybe your mom could make your favorite curry and you would be able to eat it and not throw it up later and -

“I haven’t been texting you.”

Well...you couldn’t have said you were expecting that. You stopped, staring at your feet. “I...what?”

“I...haven’t been calling you. Or texting you.” She said, her voice - that ever familiar voice - filled with worry.

...of course she would be worried. She was always so fucking nice.

“Yes you have!!” You shouted, gritting your teeth.

She said your name, so softly and so calmly, “No. I haven’t. I promise you, I haven’t. Are you okay? Is everything alright?”

The phone vibrated in your fingers and the screen lit up once more. Another unknown number was calling you. You didn’t hesitate and for the first time since this all began you answered the her-him-they-it.

“What!?” You screamed, pressing the phone to your ear. You strained to hear, to try and find out who was doing this to you. “What do you want!? Why are you doing this to me!? Leave me alone!!!”

...click!

The dial tone felt like a death sentence.

The hallway shrunk and expanded, growing larger and darker - like the mouth of the beast, it was going to swallow you whole. You pressed your phone to your forehead, slumped to the floor and realized...you were crying. No, not just crying. You were sobbing, each one wracking your body and shaking your bones. Shit...shit, shit, shit. You just wanted to go back to the way things were. You wanted it to stop, wanted whoever was doing this to leave you alone and -

Your phone buzzed again. Another message.

Another sob rocked your body, but you found the strength to turn it back into view.

UNKNOWN NUMBER :: [ MULTIMEDIA MESSAGE ]

Your fingers trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone. You didn’t want to look at whatever it was. Whoever was doing to you was fucking sick, was deranged and psychotic and out of their mind and...you had to do something about it. Maybe you could tell a teacher? But what could they do about it? Up security? Just for you? No, it was entirely out of the question. You couldn’t go to the police - since who ever this was hadn’t physically done anything to harm you.

You were on your own.

You opened the message.

It was your house. The sun was setting. Then another. This one was early in the morning. Then another. And another. Another another another another another another another another another different angles, different times of day...but all focused on one spot.

Your bedroom. Sometimes it was empty, but other times you were in shot. Sometimes working on homework, sometimes sitting with your cat on the window sill, other times pulling your shirt above your head, reaching behind your back for your bra and...

UNKOWN NUMBER : Stop ignoring me.

Your phone clattered to the floor as you gripped your hair, trying to steady your breathing. In two three fours, Out two three fours. In two three fours, Out two three-

“Hey.”

The scream was involuntary, as was backing against the lockers so hard that you slammed your head against them. Bakugou recoiled, staring at you, his eyes wide with surprise. It didn’t last long, quickly overtaken by gritted teeth and snarls. “The hell is your-”

He must have noticed the tears, the absolute panic on your face. The silence fell over the two of you, the echo of your scream now long gone. You wished you were. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the shame of what was happening. How could you explain it.

“You alright?”

You pulled your legs up to you chest, hugging them tightly. “No,” You replied.

Bakugou was never one for consolations. So you were almost surprised when all he made his way over to where you were sitting and sat down beside you. You flinched, only a little, but it didn’t seem to bother him none. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t say a word, his bright red eyes focused out the window across from you. You...were grateful. For the first time in almost two weeks, you didn’t feel entirely vulnerable. Like everything was crumbling down around you. And in this small moment of peace, you felt horribly exhausted. Your mind ached, your body was sore, your eyes were so red and...and...

You rested against his shoulder and he didn’t make a move to stop you. It was like Bakugou was putting himself between you and...whoever was stalking you.

Stalking you. You had a stalker.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You offered.

“For what?” He barked.

“For crying.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, “Tch. Yeah, well...maybe suck it the hell up. Whatever it is, it’s not a big deal.”

Not a big...you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. “Not a big deal...?”

He looked at you, a bored and disgruntled expression on his face. “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of a big fucking deal.”

“Oh yeah? Well then what the hell is it?”

“Whoa, it’s that kid who just won the Sports Festival!”

“Oh, wow! He’s so much scarier in person!”

“Do you think he would be mad if I asked for an autograph?”

“Yeah! Look at his mug - he’s obviously pissed off about something!”

Bakugou had stayed late, even through your detention, to walk you home. It was nearly dark now as you walked side by side down your street. The sun was struggling to peak over the row of houses and a purple ink had settled over the top of the sky.

It was taking everything in you not to apologize...again. He didn’t need to be dragged into your mess. But...shit, it wasn’t like you weren’t ecstatic that he offered to walk you home back in the hallway. He was a terrifying presence, unstoppable. As he stalked down the road towards your house, a scowl on his face as his eyes peered around every corner, it hit you that you felt safer now than you had the past few weeks.

“Hey.” You picked up the pace, making sure to stay close. “Thank you again. I just-”

“Ugh, stop thanking me!” He glared at you.

“I’m just-” You sighed and gripped your bag straps. “I...I don’t see the point of you walking me home. Not...that I don’t appreciate it, I just...won’t that make him mad?”

Bakugou scoffed. “That’s the point, you idiot.”

Sometimes, you thought you almost understood him. But then he blew up Rome and screamed at you to start over tomorrow morning. You stared at him in confusion though ultimately decided you didn’t have the energy to argue. You were just...thankful that he was here.

“This is me.” Your house was a small thing, nestled on the corner and surrounded by a garden that was meticulously maintained by your mom while you were at school and your father was at work. Sometimes the pictures had her in the shot, busy at work. Your lips thinned as you stared up at the second story window, Your white curtains lay still and your cat stared down at you, like she knew something was wrong. Like she knew...that things were amiss.

Well...Bakugou came all this way and the guy didn’t have the guts to show himself. As you had figured, you had completely wasted his time. It wasn’t like he was going to move in just to be your watchful protector. You didn’t want to think that maybe he was just patiently waiting until you were alone but...

“Do you want to come in for something to drink. It’s the least I could...”

Bakugou wasn’t looking at you. His attention was focused entirely over your shoulder. You blinked, taken aback by the cold, dead glare on his face. The way his eyes seemed to burn with...rage? Unbridled anger? Nothing seemed to do whatever it was justice. “You’ve been following us since the train station!” He yelled out. “Why don’t you stop being a fucking coward and come out of hiding!!”

…someone...had been following you?

You could see the reflection of someone in his eyes. With a shaking breath, you turned to look at who he was talking to.

You weren’t sure what you expected. But throughout the day, you had come up with an image in your mind of what your stalker had looked like. He would be the perfect embodiment of the horror you had suffered though, that was for certain. A Cheshire grin, wild unkempt hair, vacant, glossy eyes, maybe a knife or something - anything to solidify himself as the monster who had been making your life miserable. But...he wasn’t. As you got a good look at him, you realized that he looked relatively...normal. And for some reason, that thought alone made you sick.

He was about your age - maybe a bit older - in a school uniform you didn’t recognize. His hair was dark, pulled back and pushed behind his ears. His chin was dusted with facial hair and his eyes were darting between you and Bakugou. He had been standing by the cross walk and tried to pretend to be shocked that Bakugou was even addressing him.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pull that bull with me.” Bakugou stepped around you, making his way towards him. “I saw you get off the train with us. You made every turn we did. Always stayed one step behind where you thought we couldn’t see you.”

The kid only got a word out before Bakugou gripped him by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall of the neighboring house. “Please!” The kid yelled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Bakugou!” Your legs finally remembered they could move. You bolted over to where he was standing, looking between the two of them. “Bakugou maybe it isn’t him! Maybe he-”

“Show us your phone then if you don’t have anything to hide!” He lifted him up and slammed him back against the bricks.

“I don’t have to show you anything, you fucking lunatic!”

You don’t think you had ever seen him on this street. You don’t think you had seen him ever but-

“HEY!” The boy tried to stop Bakugou from reaching into his pocket. But it was no use.

You caught it was ease, “Try the day of the sports festival for the password.” Was all he said.

This was fucking insane. What if this kid wasn’t the stalker? What if he was just some random guy who was meeting a friend. You looked back and forth between the two of them - Bakugou, hair wild and death in his eyes, and this guy who looked down at him with fear and...

...oh...

You swiped up, entering the date as instructed.

It unlocked.

And you were met with a pretty lain layout. Some photo editing apps, Youtube, a few games, and...

Texting and Calling apps. Your blood ran cold as you opened the first one up. Texts apon texts, all to the same unlisted number. Your unlisted number. You went to the photo gallery and there they were. The pictures of your house. Some of them were zoomed in and cropped to only show you. You wanted to be sick. You wanted to-

“I can explain!”

“What the fuck,” You breathed, scrolling through the pictures. Not just of your house, but of you - walking home from school, of hanging out with your friends, of you shopping. And that’s when you saw the edited versions.

Fuck. Oh Shit Fuck.

“I was only trying to help you!!” He cried, scratching at Bakugou’s wrist, making his skin bleed. “I only want what’s best for us!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” You covered your mouth, trying to think of what to do next. Should you call the police? Your parents!? What do you do now?

His eyes fell on Bakugou, practically snarling. “I knew he would do something like this!! I knew he would try to make me look like some psycho, but I’m not. I know how he would treat you! He’s a rabid fucking dog, a mongrel! I couldn’t let him treat you the same way! I couldn’t! I’m just trying to protect you! But you wouldn’t fucking listen!! So I thought if maybe you and I could talk you would understand! You would see what I’m-”

“ARGH!”

Your body tensed as the smell of burnt stone and ash filled the air. You looked up and half expected his head to be blown clean off. But it was still attached, only now he looked terrified as he stared down at Bakugou. You followed his gaze, saw the look of pure, unadulterated rage. His hand had connected to the wall beside the man’s head, smoke dancing up and around them. And he was shaking. Oh, god, how hard Bakugou was shaking.

He spoke low, deep in his chest. “Listen close, you freak. You’re going to leave her alone from this point forward - you got that? If I find out you’re even thinking about her, I’ll kill you myself!!”

The world fell silent. No one said a word until. Your stalker was crying now, shaking as he nodded, quickly, mumbling apology after apology. You couldn’t find the words to say, but your heart. God, your heart was beating so hard in your chest as you stared at Bakugou. He...he was...

Oh.

The window in the house behind you slid open. An older man leaned out the window, his wife nervously peering over his shoulder. The looked to the source of the commotion before standing up straight, fumbling as the smoke continued to rise from the spot Bakugou...well...destroyed. “Hey!! If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the cops!”

...the police.

...

The police.

Oh god, you had his phone. You could prove he had been stalking you!!! You perked up, smiling for the first time in weeks, “Yes! Yes, please, call the police!”

The man stared at you, confusion on his face. “....what?”

The weight of the situation only grew heavier when the police searched the contents of the guy’s backpack.

Rope. A knife. Some cloth. A box of condoms. And a jar of a clear, sickly sweet smelling liquid. You heard one of the officers say what it was, though you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear. But you did, and so did your parents. Your mom nearly broke down for the third time that evening as your father swore under his breath.

Homemade chloroform.

His name was Eito Moto - a second year at another High School near your home. You would find out later that the stalking had started long before the Sports Festival - ever since he started working at the coffee shop you and your mom would go to every Sunday for breakfast. Your neighbors, the ones who actually called the police, had seen him hanging around sometimes but didn’t think much off it.

They thought he had just been a fan.

They decided not to press charges against Bakugou for putting a hole in their fence. “Given the circumstances,” The man said, “I think I would have done the same thing.”

You had to go to the police station to file a report and request a restraining order. It took well into the morning hours, where you mainly spent your time talking to different police officers, retelling the same story, going over evidence, assuring them you didn’t know this guy so you had no clue why he thought you two had been dating for months.

They sent Bakugou home, your parents offering him their thanks and promises they would find a better, proper way to think him for essentially saving your life.

By the time you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed, it was 2 in the morning. It had been so long since you felt...okay. Your stalker was in police custody for now, you could at least rest easy tonight. You gripped your pillows, tugging them up and over your head to block out what meager light filtered in through the hallway. No more late night calls. No more insistent texts telling you what a no good whore you were. You were okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

Bzzzz.

...oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

You peeked out from under your pillow, trying to calm your racing heart. It couldn’t be him, you thought. He was in jail, so they wouldn’t let him call you - right? They wouldn’t let him do that, even if they did give him one call. With shaking fingers, you reached out and plucked your phone from your end table.

Bakugou is calling!

Oh....oh thank god.

You couldn’t press accept fast enough. You sighed, resting back against your pillows. “Hey.”

“Is that bastard in jail?”

A laugh, a good honest laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s in jail. Dad and mom are gonna to talk to a lawyer tomorrow about our options.”

“Did you get a restraining order?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’s what took so long and why we have to go to court. They gave me an emergency one so...” You blew out a puff of air, watching as a lock of your hair jumped up and fell back into place. “At least there’s that.”

“You should have talked to me about this sooner.” It was softer than you anticipated, less of a bite than he normally had.

You knew you should have. You should have told someone but...it felt so...pointless? Like it wouldn’t have mattered. But, you had to give credit where credit was due. “I wish I would have.”

He didn’t respond. You had expected he would have started yelling at you, about hiding it from everyone. Chastised you for being so stupid and letting it go on for as long as it had. But no, he stayed quiet. You could imagine him laying in bed, staring up at his ceiling, and wondered what he was thinking about. What he wanted to say.

You rolled over onto your side. “Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

There was a long pause before he let out a soft noise.

“Don’t be stupid. I was only doing what I had to do.”

Stalkers are fucking scary, yah know. I had to listen to some voicemails left by stalkers to get the vibe down right - and I still don’t think Eito sounded perfect but hey. At least one blessing in that: I’ve never been stalked.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha x reader #katuski bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo #x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha #mha x reader #tw: stalking #tw: noncon mention #if you need anything else tagged #let me know!

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harryspet · 4 years ago

Text

good girl. bad habits. [1] peter parker

[Warnings] alpha!peter parker x omega!reader, omegaverse, boarding school au, dystopian au, soultmate au, spanking, teacher/student, physical abuse, misogyny, plot now/porn later

A/N: warnings should be explanation enough! this is probably going to have two parts :)

POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD

In which you’re forced to attend a school for Omegas and you meet an Alpha that’s destined to shake up your world.

word count: 4.2k

main masterlist

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @yanderepeterparker @ttqueen05 @belleknows @write-from-the-heart @sad-ed-noise @quaksonhehe

Wanda grabbed your hand, examining your nails with wide eyes, “Where did you get nail polish?” She whisper-shouted, trying not to draw attention to the two of you in the large auditorium. There were rows of girls surrounding you, all of them lacking any sort of individuality because of the stupid dress code.

“I traded for it,” Wanda raised an eyebrow and you sighed, “I’m doing her homework for Mr. Rogers for the next week. Worth it, right? Red looks good on me.”

Wanda gave you a disapproving look but you were quite used to it, “Trading?” Wanda scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re in prison.”

You only frowned, folding your hands in front of you, “That’s the only word I would use to describe it.”

Before Wanda could argue, the deafening sound of a microphone blasted through the auditorium, signalling that the assembly was about to begin. Mistress Romanoff stepped onto the platform, wearing her usual striking red hair and a black pencil skirt that hugged her curves. All the male teachers lusted for the Beta woman but you only felt jealousy. You wished your uniform skirt hugged your curves rather than dropping to your knees.

She carried the mic with her, clipboard in hand that held the contents of the meeting. It was the crack of dawn and you were running on little sleep but that wasn’t anything special for you. If you wanted anytime to yourself, you had to utilize the time after midnight which meant you often forgoed sleep.

“Good morning, ladies,” She addressed you all, her face lacking a smile or compassion, “You’ve already completed two months of the semester. A majority of you are passing your classes with flying colors. I hope you finish the semester just as strong as you started it ….”

That two months felt like a year to you. You’d spent the summer in a detention center and you were apparently “lucky” to be sitting here instead of there. In reality, you preferred the girls at the detention center over this school because they at least had spines. The girls here were mindless followers just hoping to please whatever men they had in their lives.

“As you all know, at the Stark School, our most popular event is the Halloween Ball. You know, a select few girls are chosen to attend based on merit as a reward for a job well done. This year, I have spectacular news concerning the event that I think all of you ladies will be glad to hear,” There were impatient, excited whispers that roamed over the crowd. You witnessed Wanda whispering something into the ear of the girl beside her. You only yawned, waiting for the assembly to be over, “This year, a select few males from the Asgard School for Alphas will be in attendance-”

Mistress Romanoff was interrupted by an overwhelming reaction from the crowd which consisted of loud squealing and gasps, “Ladies, please calm down. I know you’re all excited but don’t be too rash. There are still several weeks until the Ball. I would advise you all to be on your best behavior and to get your grades up if you want to be considered.”

You wanted to vomit in your mouth. The male teachers were worse enough. Being around young, Alpha males sounded like a complete nightmare. Wanda was freaking out beside you but you had tuned her out. With your current grades and disciplinary record, you’d end up at that Ball when hell freezes over.

You should’ve known that the Halloween Ball would consume everyone’s conversation for the rest of the day. It seemed you were the only one in the entire world that didn’t care. Except for Wanda, you didn’t really have any friends here and today was only adding to that isolation you always felt.

“Let’s go off script today and talk about our goals and aspirations. I often get a lot of questions from you all about advice on the plans for your future. This isn’t exactly Omega history but I figured we could use history in order to help guide us …”

As you sat in class, your eyes weren’t on the board in front of the class but out the window. The school consisted of long corridors, tall ceilings and tall windows. The ancient building sat in the middle of a forest in an area that you did not know. After the judge decided where you’d spend your senior year, they drugged you and brought you here.

You were only half listening to Mr. Rogers as he gave today’s lecture. The paint on your nails was far more interesting. Besides that, you hated how people only raised their hands to agree with him. Looking across the room at Wanda, you could see how in love she was with him.

“Throughout history, we see Omegas taking on a softer and more gentle role in our society, especially in females. Omega females are natural nurturers as well as natural followers. Can someone tell me why this is unlikely to change?”

You rolled your eyes as someone raised their hand, “It’s because it’s in our nature. It’s how the Goddess created us.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Rogers agreed with a smile, “There are leaders in our world and then there are followers. Both positions are equally as important. You can’t have one without the other,” You’d heard this type of lecture a million times and most of the girls at your school gobble it up, “There are a lot of options for omega females. After you meet your mates, the possibilities essentially become endless. There are many nurturing and low stress jobs. I know many Omegas who are secretaries, florists, and even preschool teachers. Most become homemakers and motherhood is the absolute most important job an Omega can have.”

You couldn’t hold in your scoff but, as soon as it left your lips, everyone’s head turned towards you, “What?” You asked no one in particular but to show that you didn’t want to be stared at.

“Miss Y/L/N, is there something you would like to add to the discussion?” Mr. Rogers asked and, although he was beginning to make your heart race, you only crossed your arms.

“No, thank you,” You spoke simply.

“I apologize if I’m boring you but this is a pretty important topic. Why don’t you tell the class your aspirations for the future,” You expected for him to move on but the Alpha seemed to focus in on you. You hated the feeling that crawled under your skin when you looked into his eyes. It was a force, a wall between the two of you to remind you that you were not equal.

“I’d like to be mate free, far away from this school, and on a beach somewhere rolling in cash,” Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, eyes widened, and the tension grew thick, “Consider it a five year plan.”

“And you expect to make money how?” Mr. Rogers began to pace in front of his desk, an annoyance in his glare towards you.

“I don’t know but hopefully I’ll make more than a teacher,” You grinned.

Steve stiffened and you saw Wanda look over her shoulder to you. “Stop it,” She mouthed to you.

“I’ll just move somewhere else. Somewhere they don’t treat Omegas like second class citizens.”

The class erupted in gasps and, for a moment, you felt quite powerful, “Stand up, right now,” Mr. Rogers snarled. You did as he said, knowing you wouldn’t be able to disobey a command.

You reached down to grab your backpack, “I know, I know … to the Head Mistress’s office,” You rolled your eyes.

“No, leave your things,” That made you pause and you looked up to see a smirk on his face, “Come up to the front of the class, Miss Y/L/N.”

You let your bag drop to your side with a thud. Everyone around you was still whispering and staring. You felt that power drifting away as you made your way down the aisle and towards the front of the classroom. Skirt too high on your thighs, nail polish on your hands, and an attitude on your face that you were struggling to maintain.

You stopped a few feet in front of your teacher before he said, “Hands on the desk,” He ordered you. You huffed out a sigh, every bone in your body telling you to obey. You walked past him, putting your hands down on his desk which left you slightly bent over with your backside exposed to the room of forty girls. “This, young ladies, is important for all of you to see. There will always be some who resist their true nature and who cause disruption.”

You heard the sound of him removing his belt from the waistband of his pants and your body cringed.

You’d heard that things like this happened often here. You heard the head mistress had a secret closet of tools she used on disobedient omegas. You’d never heard of a Professor disciplining a student in front of an entire class.

You wanted to scream and shout but decided that remaining stoic would save you the most embarrassment. Even as he lifted your skirt, you didn’t say a word, only shut your eyes tightly, “Whatever career path you choose, your mate will have to approve. This is not because you are second class citizens but because your mate will know what’s best for you. Ranks are ingrained within us and, no matter how much we fight it, we still end up in positions like you. If we only stayed in our lanes, others wouldn’t have to enforce their rank.”

The first slap of the belt burned badly. You couldn’t help but cry out as your knees buckled together and you tightly gripped the wood of the desk.

He kept going, forcing the class to count along as he completely bruised your bottom. He stopped at fifteen but, by that time, tears were already streaming and you were silently weeping.

The next few weeks passed in a blur with your usual routine of going through your classes like a zombie and listening to Wanda’s ramblings. Like a lot of girls, Wanda already had an Alpha with his eyes set on her. Bucky Barnes, an older man and well respected Alpha had already staked his claim. Wanda’s current mission was to have as much fun and attention that she could before being forced to settle down.

You started to notice how Wanda’s usual group of friends was dwindling as she continued to sit with you. Although she often disagreed with your mentality, she still stayed which was more than anyone had ever done for you.

“Are you really going to run? Escape?” She asked in a whisper as she discussed the forbidden topic.

“Why would I stay? No Alpha will want me. Not even a Beta would,” You only shrugged, stirring your spoon around your bowl of soup.

“That’s not true,” Wanda insisted, “You just …. you just have to adjust a little more. I think you could be happy eventually if you just played the part for a little while. An Alpha could offer you security.”

You shook your head, “I don’t like the cost. I think I’d rather scrub toilets for the rest of my life.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at your words, “I don’t think you would, Y/N. There’s got to be a part of you, deep down, that wants the stability.”

You didn’t answer the question and you didn’t allow the thought to stay on your mind, “Don’t worry about me, just enjoy your dance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find another Alpha and you can watch them fight over you.”

Wanda smiled, a dreamy look in her eyes, “That does sound wonderful, doesn’t it?” Not long into your conversation, you felt a tapping on your shoulder and a woman telling you that you’re needed in the head mistress’s office, “What did you do now?”

“Nothing,” You said immediately, grabbing your things, “You can have my pudding cup. I’ll see you after last period.” Wanda only nodded, a look of worry on her face as you were escorted away.

The woman, who you assumed was some type of secretary, advised you to fix your appearance. The Stark School was like an old castle with vast hallways and tall ceilings of stained glass. Mr. Rogers told the class one time that it had been used as a fort in a war hundreds of years ago. People thought it was an interesting fact but the antiqueness of everything left you feeling creeped out most of the time.

You arrived at her office after climbing the winding stairs of the tallest tower. Mrs. Potts was waiting by the window when you entered. You kept your hands folded, hiding the nail polish on your fingers as you waited for her to address you. She stared out of the window, out to wear P.E. classes were being held, and your eyes wandered to the large wardrobe in the corner.

You gulped as you realized that was probably where she kept her weapons of discipline, “How are your studies going, dear?” You turned your head to find her staring intently at you, “Come, sit down.”

You moved forward, obeying the Alpha Females commands, and taking a seat in front of her desk, “Well, I’m not failing anything,” You spoke tersely.

“I heard,” She nodded, taking a seat behind her desk. She straightened the jacket of her black suit as she folded her hands over the desk, “That’s a big improvement, Y/N. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “To talk about my improvement?” You put the word “improvement” in quotes.

“Exactly, when you first arrived you started with at least one infraction a day. Now you’re down to one a week. I can tell you’re learning and that you’re adjusting well.”

“Are you letting me out of here earlier then?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

Pepper only chuckled, “Here’s what I’m offering you - a chance to go to the Halloween Ball.”

“Why would I want that?” You asked.

“When the school year is over, you won’t have many options. If you get back on suppressants, you’ll be caught and end up back in the Council’s bad graces. It’s my job to help you and I don’t want to see that happen,” You could tell that she was being sincere but there was still the ulterior motive of simply getting you out of her hair, “You’ll go to the ball, maybe you’ll meet someone willing to take you in and give you something better than what you can give yourself.”

You frowned, “I’m assuming you’re not giving me a choice.”

Pepper sighed, “You have over fifty infractions, Y/N. Any other student would have been kicked out by now. Just take this chance.”

It was quite amusing to you watching the group of boys and girls meet each other. They both seemed to be an inexperienced group of teenagers awkwardly trying to figure things out. The girls stood on one side and the boys stood on the other for the first ten minutes of the dance before a brave boy walked over to ask a girl to dance. Now, the dance was in full swing and you were sitting by the snack table, easing your anxiety with cookies.

Wanda loaned you a long white dress and allowed you to cut it into something off-shouldered with a slit down the side to expose your thigh. You watched Wanda who was dancing happily in a champagne pink, ruffled dress.

The Alphas that passed you only stared, probably wondering why you weren’t bashfully batting your eyelids at them. Another thing that added to your anxiety was the energy they gave off. You could handle class with Mr. Rogers but being in the ballroom was putting you on edge.

You sat through a few more loud pop songs before finally standing up and heading for the exit. As you made it to the door, you heard an out of breath Wanda calling for you. You turned to see her pulling a boy along with her, a look of lust in his eyes as he gazed at her. He wasn’t what made your breath hitch in your throat, it was who was behind him.

“Y/N, this is Brad,” She gestured to the boy whose hand was interlaced with hers, “And this is his friend Peter.”

Peter.

Something made you do a double take. You didn’t recognize him but you felt your world shift at the sight of him. You felt your heart rate increase as she felt something foreign … attraction. A kind face that didn’t match those brown eyes that screamed danger. In those few seconds where your eyes lingered on his, you questioned every feeling you’d ever had.

“I’m going … on a walk,” You told Wanda, not addressing them.

“Take us with you to get some fresh air,” She winked at you, knowing what you were hinting at.

Your shoulders slumped but you nodded, “You’re lucky there’s enough in my stash.”

You turned around and pushed open the gymnasium door and led the three of them into the hallway. The four of you did your best to avoid any chaperones, dipping into a custodian's closet when you heard the tapping of heels coming your way. Like you had planned it, you switched on the light and ran your eyes over the many shelves.

“How did you even get it?” Wanda whispered.

They did bed checks often and a lot of the administrators were fond of combing through your dorm room thoroughly.

“I’m cool with the janitor,” You answered simply, shrugging. As you found the empty container for disinfecting wipes, you reached in to find what you were looking for. You felt the young Alphas eyes burning into you as you presented it to the group.

A flask.

You tilted the silver container back, swallowing quickly in an attempt to not taste the vile liquid. Not meeting his eyes, you held the flask out to the side for him to take. The four of you were making your way to the lake. Wanda and Brad, stuck in their own world, had wandered ahead which left the two of you to awkwardly walk beside each other down the dirt path.

When he didn’t take it, you glanced at him, “I don’t think that’s going to get me drunk,” He said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck and the first few buttons of his white shirt were undone. You couldn’t help that your eyes lingered on the skin of his chest and he seemed to notice. He flashed you a curious look but you turned your head again.

“Suit yourself,” You took another sip, scowling as you pulled it from your lips.

The four of you arrived at the lake and it seemed Brad and Wanda couldn’t keep their hands off of each other any longer. After taking a big swig out of the flask, she told you that she and Brad were going to go “check out” the storage cabin where the school kept lake gear. She giggled as he pulled her away, leaving the two of you along on a picnic bench, staring out onto the eerie, dark water.

“What’s your last name?” He asked and a part of you was frustrated that he was trying to make small talk with you.��

“You wouldn’t know my family,” You said simply.

“Try me,” He challenged you like the cocky Alpha you assumed he was.

“They’re dead, it’s not like it matters.”

“How?” He continued, “How did they die?”

You gave him an incredulous look, “Do you always ask girls about traumatic topics when you first meet them?”

“You don’t seem like most girls I’ve met.”

“And I guess that’s an excuse?” You scoffed but his expression didn’t change. He seriously wanted to know, “They were rogues and they died like everyone else who defies the Council. Happy?”

“I’m sorry,” Was his curt response.

An Alpha apologizing? You never thought you’d see the day.

“What’s your last name?”

“Parker,” Your eyes widened as the name left his lips.

“You’re … you’re Tony Stark’s nephew?” He only nodded, “And you’re saying sorry when your uncle is on the council. When he’s the reason they’re dead. That’s rich.”

“I’m not my uncle,” He stated more firmly than you expected. It took you back for a moment and the two of you stared intensely for a long moment.

“I don’t care,” His eyebrows tightened and his lips pressed into a rectangle at your reaction, “Even if you don’t want to end up like him, you probably will. It’s a part of your nature,” You spoke, mocking the words you heard all day long in class.

“It’s not a part of my nature to kill those who disagree with me,” Your eyebrows furrowed at his words.

“How else will you assert your dominance, oh wise Alpha?”

He breathed deeply, sensing how you were toying with him, “A good alpha doesn’t need to kill or rely only on their strength. Alphas who lack the respect of their followers do.”

It deeply confused you that someone like him could think this way. You were quiet for a moment as you thought it over, “Are you saying Tony Stark lacks the respect of his people?”

“They only fear him,” Peter’s eyes seemed to darken even in the moonlight shining down on the two of you.

Pete watched as it clicked within your mind, “And you don’t want to be feared?” As he leaned in closer, you surprised yourself by not pulling away. You felt that same magnetism pulling you towards him, promising you pleasure, but frightening you at the same time.

His fingers brushed against yours and a shiver went down your spine, causing your lips to part and your eyes to widen, “Control feels much better when it’s instinct. When it’s wanted and desired. That’s real control,” His voice was warm, and surprisingly calm. It made you forget for a moment and drop the walls. Your eyes roamed over his every feature, ever line of his jaw, and ever curl of his hair.

His eyes wandered down to your lips and you suddenly snapped out of the spell. You stood up from the bench with a start, realizing how deeply you were just staring at him, “I don’t believe in those bullshit rankings,” You stated firmly and he stood up with you, trying to close the distance between the two of you, “They’re all fucking lies.”

You were about to turn away when he grabbed your upper arm. You gritted your teeth as he pulled you into him, “Believe this then. I want you, Y/N.”

“Let go of me,” Your voice was lower than you expected as you stared into those eyes. Why was your voice so weak? “You don't even know me.”

“It’s instinct,” He said, holding your firmly although his grip was tight, “And I can tell that you feel it too. Deep down, you’re searching for someone to take care of you. You want reassurance like they all do.” You tried to look away from him but you just couldn’t. “Someone hurt you badly, didn’t they?” You shook your head, tears starting to sting your eyes. “A girl like you needs someone gentle. Someone to ease you into submission rather than force it.”

You felt like you were melting into him and as his head dipped down to place his lips on yours, that voice in the back of your head was screaming to kiss him back. Your wrist pinned together between you, Peter stole your first kiss and it was a wonderfully terrifying feeling.

You felt warmth in your core and you tightened your legs together as he began to kiss along your jaw and then your neck, surely leaving marks on your skin, “Peter …”

“Tell me to stop,” He said against your skin.

The words were on your tongue but it was like your body had switched to autopilot. It wanted his touch and that’s all your body wanted to focus on. When he finally did pull his lips from your skin, your body was still craving that foreign touch.

Before his hands could roam over the rest of your body, a bright light blinded the two of you and footsteps approached. Peter let go of your skin but you still felt his touch, as Mr. Rogers appeared. You only crossed your arms, looking down at your feet as the two of you were caught.

“What are you doing out here, son?” Of course, Steve didn’t address you.

“We wanted to look at the Full Moon,” Peter lied, “My apologies, sir.”

“Where’s Maximoff?”

“We haven’t seen her,” Peter shrugged casually.

“I’d stay away from this one if I were you. There’s plenty of good girls worthy of your time,” Steve gestured to you but him disliking you was the least of your worries at the moment, “You can head back to the dance, Mr. Parker. I’ll be escorting this one back to the dorms.”

Peter stepped forward, walking past Steve, but he looked back to mouth something to you.

Clear as day, you could read his lips say, “You’re mine.”

No matter the cost, you decided then that you’d run. Run from this place and from the feeling Peter gave you that made you so weak in the knees.

part two

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded.�� it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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saphirered · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! What do you think it would be like if Essek had a fire genasi S/o, like they're normal really calm and collected unlike most fire genasi but the times they do get really general angry it's like watching a volcano erupt! (Maybe they got angry cause Essek got hurt by someone?) Thank you!

Essek is so caught up in his work he doesn’t even hear you enter his laboratory. Papers are strewn about, books opened, some flat, some propped agains anything and everything for better readability. The sound of the metal nib of a fine pen moving across paper, the only constant in the room besides the occasional mutter to himself.

You knock on the door. No response. You call out his name. Nothing. You think whatever Essek’s working on must be very important to have him be so unaware of his surroundings. You notice Essek’s in his robe, shoes and a shirt given the mostly exposed lower arms. Did he not get dressed in the morning? Or did he simply never go to sleep? You’re not sure. Could be both. Could be either.

Since he’s not responding you simply approach. You place a hand on his shoulder, slide it down over his chest as you kiss his temple. You look over the pages out in front of him as he slowly becomes aware of your presence, leaning into your kiss.

“What are you up to?” You ask softly recognising some of the spells as the schematics of healing magic and to a lesser extend regeneration. Essek must have noticed your confusion as he quickly pulls from your grasp, begins to gather the papers and pile them together, closing the books as he goes.

“Nothing of importance. I did not hear you enter.” Essek gets up leaning against the desk and faces you with a smile reaching for you and pulling you closer to the point you no longer have visual on any of the papers and books. He’s definitely hiding something.

“I knocked, and called your name. You seemed to be pretty caught up in whatever you were working on.” You try to look past him but the moment you do his hand finds its way to your cheek brushing his thumb over it lovingly.

“My apologies. Shall we go somewhere else? I think I’ve been crammed up in this study long enough for today. Perhaps some fresh air will suit us both?” Essek suggest with a somewhat nervous laugh. You smile back at him and give him a kiss. If he’s not going to talk, you’ll find out yourself and you’re prepared to use whatever you can to get to the bottom of this.

Reaching for the stack of papers behind him once they are securely in your grasp you break the kiss taking several steps back and leaf through the notes before he can get to you. So not just healing magic… herbology, physiology and anatomy, manual healing, treating injuries, medicine, recipes for concoctions, ointments and potions to cure anything from bruises to broken bones, wounds and burns.

“Why the sudden interest in the art of healing?” You frown as the pages are snatched from your grasp and the drow holds them behind his back with an unreadable expression, head held high; the same one he uses whenever he’s dealing with any kind of official and none casual business.

“A sudden interest. I found myself with time to spare and decided to spend it learning until your return. And since you’re here, there’s no need to continue.” You notice the nervous smile break through again leaving you more leery of Essek. If he’s gonna play this game you’ll play along but last you remembered chess is a two player game and you’re not about to be tricked into making a certain move by the wizard.

“You misunderstand. I’m not judging your ‘sudden interest’ nor questioning your reasonings for wishing to study healing. However, last I remember you were the one to tell me healing magic is not exactly within your capabilities. I’m just curious.” You take a step closer to Essek and he steps back. You take another and close enough to the desk he puts the stack of paper back where it was before he steps back in towards you.

“There are some very capable healers among my friends and you are an exceptional one. I simply wish to learn the deeper meanings to the abilities they have at their fingertips and gain a better understanding of it.” You smile at him innocently. Such a liar. Such. A. Liar. Half truth if we’re being technical but deception nonetheless.

“Well then, I would leave you to your studies but I have missed you, Essek.” You kiss his cheek snaking one arm around his waist. You can see the panic in his eyes. Normally he’d happily indulge, return your affections without even a second of doubt. He pulls the robe around his torso a little closer as your free hand dances up his chest and over his shoulder.

The moment you reach his shoulder he grits his teeth, jaw tightening holding back a a whimper or a gasp as his entire posture freezes up. You quickly remove your hand and look at him worried. Essek gives you a look of defeat as you put a bit more space between the two of you, allowing you to move freely.

“Essek…” You all but threaten as you reach for the neckline of the robe. He has half the mind to stop you but refrains from doing so with a sigh as you push the fabric aside.

His shoulder and upper arm seem very much bruised, the bone slightly out of place. Seeing it continues over the top of his shoulder you turn him around inspecting his back too. Two deep cuts, luckily no longer bleeding mare the back of his shoulder. The injuries agitated, left untreated. Essek sighs deeply as you gasp at the sight.

“What happened?” You go over the outline of the open wounds, careful not to touch.

“Let’s just say the Martinet Daleth did not appreciate my comments on his personal relations very much.” Essek grits his teeth as you accidentally brush over a particularly painful area. You bite your lower lip keeping yourself from making a snarky remark but can’t prevent yourself from feeling the threads of control slip. How could he have done something so stupid? He’s aware how powerful those people are, not only that, in the position he is in, being less than friendly will not do him well in any circumstance when he doesn’t have any leverage anymore.

“Have you gone mad?!” That may have come out a little less… calm than you had hoped it would. Deciding to focus on the now and not all the things you may want to say, shout or scream, or actions you may want to take, you instead focus on healing the worst. You make sure the wounds are clean before they close up, reset the bone in the right position and allow the bruises to fade.

As your magic sets in and begins to work its wonders Essek lets out a breath of relief, rubbing at his priorly injured shoulder testing its movability. Nothing remains of the injuries and you’re able to contain the fire feel burning within your chest and throat. You take a few deep breaths as Essek thanks you.

Brushing Essek off, knowing the way well enough, you head for the component pantry. Essek follows behind you calling after you but out of fear of blowing up in his face you keep going and ignore him. You go over the shelves grabbing jars and vials as you go. You had to channel your anger somewhere so if this was going to be it, then so it be.

You had worked very hard to keep your own fury contained when it arose. You’re usually calm and collected even in the most dire of situations, but when someone comes for your friends, let alone lover, you will put the burning fires of the Nine Hells to shame, living up to the ‘hell hath no fury’ expression. It’s also a side you prefer to keep away from your loved ones if it can be avoided.

Normally a few deep breaths, counting to ten and another few deep breaths would do. In the rare cases that didn’t work you’d try occupying yourself with something else entirely. But now… you’re slipping. You can feel the rage burning within, so to the components you turn.

You pick up another vial inspecting it and Essek interrupts placing himself between you and your already gathered components.

“I don’t know what you’re planning but please, don’t do anything you’ll come to regret.” Essek practically begs. He takes the vial from your hand but drops it immediately, hissing in pain. The vial shatters as he waves his hand as if to cool it down. You push past him, gather the components and throw them into a sack as you leave the pantry. Essek quickly follows behind still clutching his hand to cool it down.

“Where are you going?” You stop, put on the most composed look you can and turn around to face him.

“I’m going to murder the leader of an infamous order of magic users. Now if you will excuse me, enjoy the rest of your day.” Words like poison. No more anger, just pure unrestrained hatred. You turn back around and continue your way towards the front door. You clench your fists feeling the burning heat gather within your palms.

“Don’t do anything stupid! You’ll get yourself killed!” Essek shouts after you but you keep walking. He calls your name. “Do not do anything stupid!” He repeats. You stop in your tracks feeling as if something inside of you just snaps. The last thread of your composure perhaps.

“Don’t do anything stupid? Anything stupid he says!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Like how you didn’t do anything completely and utterly stupid when you did what you did? How you lied to so many people, were the one responsible for so many terrible things. Or how you made choices ignoring the consequences of your actions?” You shout back, the ground beneath your feet’s temperature starts rising to the point where you are scorching the fine carpet beneath. Admittedly, your words are a low blow.

“You know what I meant!” Essek retorts getting closer to you, his frustrations also clear.

“Oh, I know what you meant but let’s no longer pretend you’re the only one you care about suffering from the consequences of your actions. Can you for just a moment just open your eyes and realise you have so many people around you who love you and would go to the ends of the earth for you. Can you just understand that when someone hurts you and threatens your livelihood, your life, that maybe that doesn’t sit well with me?” Unclenching your fists embers drift to the floor leaving more holes in the carpet.

“Why do you have to be so stupid!” Scorching heat radiates in the hallway as a brief rush of flame passes through the space like burning oil. Essek is quick enough to float and avoid the fire, but you watch it spread.

Essek’s face softens as he quickly puts the fire out. He goes to place his hand on your arm but feeling the heat of your skin before even making contact, he’s forced to refrain and his hand falls back to the side. He’s never seen you quite so driven by hatred and anger. It scares him in a way. He’s not afraid of you. He trusts you. But he is afraid that letting you go off on your own so driven by those negative emotions, allowing them to fester and grow, will not do anyone good, least of all you. He worries for your wellbeing, just like you have for his plenty of times before.

“I know I may have a hard time coming to terms with others’ affections towards me and may have made some stupid decisions but I beg of you, please, do not walk into a lions’ den unprepared carrying bait around your neck.” While the fury still burns in your eyes and your skin is still much hotter to the touch than it should be Essek is able to grasp your hand without burning himself.

“I must ask you to refrain from brutally murdering the Martinet… for now. His time will come, just as those who are loyal to him. Just not yet.” Essek strokes your cheek as your eyes soften, expression saddening.

“They hurt you still.” The words come out almost like a cry of frustration and sadness. Whether that be because of what had happened to Essek or from losing control like that you’re not one hundred percent sure but you guess the latter.

“They did, and I assume they will be a thorn in my side just a bit longer but, if that means I’ll have you at my side to eventually deal with them, I feel more comfortable for it, no matter how much I would love to see you set their pretentious ship ablaze, in retaliation, you yourself said, calculated moves are a necessity, especially now.” Essek had already made his peace with this, he only hopes you would see the same. Wrapping your arms around him hiding your face in his chest you compose yourself in a silent thank you as he returns your embrace, holding you until you pull back enough to see his face.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper looking at the scorch marks all over. “I didn’t mean to… I never-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone breaks at some point. You’ve been there for me plenty of times. I’m glad I get to return the favour, regardless of the circumstances.” Essek looks around already mentally making a list of what to get replaced and what to get repaired.

“You can be quite intimidating in your fury.” He smiles at you and you raise an eyebrow.

“I guess…” You feel regretful for the damages done.

“I might have use for that in the future if you’d be willing.” You give Essek a look of disapproval.

“What? I would love to see you do this, in some other places with less than friendly people, who you’ve already deemed deserving of your wrath.” Essek laughs.

“So I can repay you for this? I can do that. But only in the most dire situations.” You poke an accusing finger at his chest laughing with him. You give him quick kiss.

“At least it was not my library, or the study.” Essek sighs as you gawk and swat his arm jokingly.

“Rude! But yes. Because I can see you being the one in a fiery rage should anyone ever damage your precious books.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader #mighty nein

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twomanyideas · 3 years ago

Text

The Grill Next Door

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

Gratsu Week 2021 Prompt(s): Impress, Smile, Smokey Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3

Summary: Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck.

But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly.

0-0 Summer was arguably the worst time to be moving. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day inside unpacking boxes when it was 90 degrees outside? Definitely not Natsu, and yet here he was, dragging another box full of stuff up the stairs in his new home. He was grateful for his friends, who had been there when he’d gotten the key and helped him clean the house, paint some walls, and install the larger pieces of furniture. But now that there was only the smaller clutter left, he was on his own, and he was missing out on all the summer fun. His friends were all enjoying themselves without him; spending their free time at the beach or the pool, barbecuing in their yards, raiding the ice cream parlor… “Soon…” Natsu sighed to himself. Soon, he could join them again. He just had a few more boxes filled with necessary items to go.

He’d already unpacked the ones filled with kitchen utensils and Happy’s stuff. All that was left were his toiletries and a few clothes. He’d sort through the rest of his crap bit by bit, one or two boxes every night until he was done. That way, he could still get the most out of the vacation days he'd pulled out for moving. He opened the box he’d brought upstairs with him and groaned; of course, he’d grabbed the wrong one. Instead of towels and shower products, he was looking at some of the housewarming gifts he’d gotten. A key hanger from Lucy, because he was always losing his keys. A baking set from Erza, which Natsu had to admit was the most optimistic gift he’d ever gotten, and a cute houseplant from Wendy, carefully wrapped up in brown paper, with wet paper towels to keep the soil moist.

There were a few more small gifts, but Natsu’s attention was drawn to the flat package at the bottom. More specifically, to the image that was on it, giving away what was inside: a bright pink flamingo kiddie pool. “So you can have a pool in your backyard!” Sting had grinned when Natsu unwrapped the gift. It was obviously a gag gift, and at the time, Natsu had seen the humor in it. He’d even joked that he’d call Sting for a pool party once he was all settled in, but right now, it only fueled his longing to do something fun. Actually… Screw unpacking, he’d do that later. One look through the window, at the bright blue sky and the burning sun, was all it took to finalize his decision. He picked up the box and took it downstairs again, quickly watering the plant before it could die in the summer heat, and putting it on a windowsill. Leaving the rest of the box’s contents for now, he took out the inflatable pool and started digging through one of the other boxes in search of his swim trunks.

He’d done enough for today. He was going to sit in his backyard and enjoy his stupid pool, damn it. Once he’d changed into his swimwear, he applied a thin layer of sunblock he’d found during his search for a towel. He went outside with the pool under his arm, sticking his foot out when he slipped through the sliding door to keep Happy from sneaking outside.

“Sorry buddy, you can’t go out yet,” he apologized, knowing that it was for the best.

They'd only moved in a few days ago, and Happy needed to get used to his new home. If he were to run away, he'd get lost trying to find his way back to their old apartment, and the last thing Natsu wanted was to end up like Rogue, who had spent all night frantically searching for Frosch when he had just moved in with Sting and failed to shut the front door behind him fast enough. Still, Natsu couldn’t help but feel guilty at the sight of Happy pawing at him from behind the glass. Maybe he could get him a cat leash tomorrow, so he could at least explore the backyard safely. One thing was for sure, he’d definitely give him some of his favorite fish treats to make up for a few hours of sitting alone inside. With that in mind, he smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air and the delicious smell that came along with it. It was one of his favorites, and he instantly recognized it. One of his neighbors was grilling in his backyard. Too curious for his own good, Natsu followed the scent. His nose told him it was coming from the house to his left, from the backyard that was only separated from his by a tall wooden fence. Tall, but not tall enough to keep Natsu away. He was just able to peek over the top if he stood on his tippy toes.

He wanted to get an idea of who was living next to him, that’s all. Okay, and maybe he wanted to live through them a little as they indulged in one of his all-time favorite summer activities. \

Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck. But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly. “You know, your food is going to cook more evenly and taste a lot better if you close the lid,” Natsu suggested, bursting out in laughter when the guy jumped and almost dropped his tongs. “Idiot!” He whirled around and glared at Natsu, waving the tongs in the air as he stomped closer. Damn! This guy was actually pretty cute when he was mad.

"I almost burned myself. What were you thinking?!"

"That you weren't doing those ribs the justice they deserve," Natsu retorted, frustration rising within him once he managed to tear his eyes away from his half-naked neighbor and focus back on the grill. All that delicious aroma-filled smoke that would've added so much flavor to that gorgeous meat was getting away!

It was a fucking crime.

"Pay attention to what you were doing, you jackass! You gotta flip them over!"

The guy quickly returned to his grill to tend to his ribs, cursing as he fumbled with the tongs while trying to keep a safe distance between the searing heat of the barbecue and his own bare ribs.

"Man, you really suck at this," Natsu couldn't resist pointing out.

"Oh, and I suppose _you _could do better?"

In all honesty, Natsu was a terrible cook. He lacked the ability to multitask in the kitchen, always made an enormous mess, and often combined ingredients that his friends insisted should never be combined.

However, cooking and grilling were two completely different things to him. His dad had taught him how to cook meat on an open fire or a makeshift grill during camping trips since he was little, and he had it down to a fine art by now.

"You're damn right I can," he scoffed, taking the question as a challenge and being kind enough to climb over the fence and invite himself to his neighbor's backyard so he could show him how it was done.

"What are you doing?!"

"Saving your meat, of course! Move over."

Too stunned by what was happening, the guy didn't protest when Natsu snatched away the tongs. He just watched with his mouth open as Natsu flipped the ribs and set the grate to a higher level, making sure they'd cook slower. And much to Natsu’s amusement, it wasn't just the grill he was staring at.

Satisfied with his intervention, Natsu closed the lid and stepped back. "There, that should do it!" he grinned, putting the tongs down on a plate on the nearby table so he could hold out his hand in greeting. "I'm Natsu, by the way. I just moved here last Wednesday."

"... Gray," his neighbor replied, frowning warily but still accepting Natsu's hand and shaking it briefly. "Do you always stick your nose into other people's business like that?"

“Just wait, you’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Natsu said, amused by his neighbor's grumpy tone. “Anyway, you should be fine as long as you leave the lid closed for about an hour.”

“An hour?” Gray complained, “I thought grilling was supposed to be faster.”

“I mean, do you want fast, or do you want good?” Natsu drawled suggestively. He wasn’t sure if it was the beautiful weather or just the high he felt from having had a hot guy so obviously checking him out because normally he wasn’t much of a flirt, but he felt the urge to test the waters. “Cause I could show you both.”

Gray surprised him by laughing heartily at his innuendo. “There is seriously nothing subtle about you, is there?”

“Nope.” Natsu agreed and laughed along. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll leave you to your grilling, gotta go set up my pool.”

He climbed the fence to get back into his yard, hearing Gray yell behind him. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Just use the gate next time.”

“But then, how could I show you my best asset?” Natsu retorted once he was safely over, chuckling as Gray muttered something he couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t too worried, though. After all Gray had said next time.

0-0

Gray looked back at the grill, already tempted to open the lid and check on the ribs. What was he supposed to do for an hour? He’d mowed the grass earlier, and he didn’t feel comfortable staying inside while the grill was going.

The sun felt overly hot on his skin and he found shelter under a tree in his backyard. Playing on his phone had netted him ten minutes of entertainment and two group conversations he wasn’t all that interested in.

Maybe Natsu did know what he was talking about because the smell of the ribs cooking was making his mouth water in ravenous anticipation. Thinking about his new neighbor brought a smile to his face, especially since he heard odd noises coming from the other side of the fence. Didn’t he say something about a pool?

With all this time to kill, maybe he should go return the favor and see what he was up to.

With that in mind, Gray walked over to the fence and peered over it, unable to hold back a snort when he saw Natsu sitting on the ground and puffing air into a pink flamingo-shaped pool.

"Wow, I guess you really are full of hot air."

Natsu looked up at him, flashing that grin Gray was quickly developing a weak spot for. "So you think I'm hot?"

Yes, he sure as hell did, but he wasn’t about to give Natsu the satisfaction of saying so. At least... not yet.

“I think you’re having an awfully hard time blowing, which is… disappointing.”

"Huh. Never had any complaints before." Natsu shrugged, returning his attention to blowing air into the flamingo.

“Why don’t you let me show you how it’s done?” Gray said, feeling confident.

God knows he’d blown up a ton of these things for his brother’s kid. He’d quickly learned there was a little trick to it. You had to squeeze the valve as you blew into it or the air wouldn’t get in properly. Clearly, his hot dumbass of a neighbor didn't get that.

“You want to show me how well you blow?” Natsu tilted his head, looking amused by Gray’s suggestion. “How can I say no to that?”

Gray let himself into Natsu’s backyard, using the gate that connected their properties, like a normal person, and grabbed the pool away from Natsu. Using his trick, he quickly filled both rings of the pool.

“Color me impressed.” Natsu whistled in appreciation once Gray set the pool down on the grass. He filled it with water from the hose, which he oh so charmingly put between his legs, giggling to himself as he swung it around.

How the guy could go from flirting to acting like a five-year-old within the blink of an eye was beyond Gray, but he had to admit that it was oddly endearing.

Natsu jumped in with both feet as soon as the pool was filled, watching with glee as water sloshed out onto the grass from his efforts. He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him, and immediately propped his arms around the pool’s rim.

“That feels so much better!” Natsu moaned happily.

Now that Natsu was inside it, Gray couldn't help but notice that the pool could fit two people, albeit a little snugly considering their size. And though normally he wouldn't be caught dead in one of these things- especially a pink flamingo one- it was a very hot day, and Natsu’s yard was a lot shadier than his.

"You want in?" Natsu asked, his lips stretching into a mischievous smile.

Gray’s eyes were drawn to the slightly pointy canines, finding them incredibly sexy, and he immediately wondered what kissing that mouth would feel like as Natsu patted the empty spot next to him invitingly.

What had gotten into him? He’d just met the guy, knew next to nothing about him, yet here he was acting like a hormone driven teenager. It wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t deny the chemistry that sizzled between them, so palpable he could almost touch it.

Besides, what was wrong with having a little fun? It was summer, and he had been in a bit of a dry spell for months.

That thought decided him.

“I suppose I could join you for a bit.”

He had just stepped one foot inside the pool when, to his surprise, Natsu stopped him. “Hang on a minute. I didn’t say you could come in. I only asked if you wanted to.”

“If you want in-” Natsu winked at him. “It’s gonna cost ya.”

“Cost me?” Gray sputtered in protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. I will be more than happy to share my pool with you on this incredibly hot day, but only if you share some of those ribs with me.”

Gray had already been planning on doing that, but it was infinitely more fun to make Natsu work for it.

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, which only netted him greasy fingers from the sunblock he’d slathered on earlier. “It seems to me like you’re getting the better end of the deal here. This is just a kiddie pool after all.”

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain, but I can respect that. How about this then? I’ll throw in some of my world famous special sauce.”

“World famous?” Gray scoffed, “It’s probably just something you picked up at the grocery store, but… okay, I’ll bite.”

“You promise?” Natsu gave him a cheeky smirk, one that ignited a need in Gray to get in that damn pool right the hell now and show him what he intended to do.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Gray said. “Just don’t complain if it ends up being more than you bargained for.”

Gray was so determined to get in there that he completely forgot he was already partly in the pool, and tripped over the edge when he tried to step in. He caught himself with his hands but still ended up splashing Natsu, not to mention had the wind yanked out of his sails.

He looked up to see the damage. The water had darkened Natsu’s pink hair and flattened it against his face, softening his features and somehow making the bastard look even more attractive. Gray watched in rapt fascination as a drop of water traveled from Natsu’s cheek, joining others on its way down his neck and over his chest until rejoining the rest of the water at waist level.

“You’re right,” Natsu laughed loudly, slicking his hair back and away from his face. “That was definitely more than I bargained for. Nice entrance, by the way.”

Gray was utterly mortified, and he scrambled to sit down, desperately trying to come up with a witty comeback, but before he could say a word, Natsu had already splashed him.

“There you go. No need to make that face. It’s a pool. We were going to get wet, eventually.” Natsu shrugged, his expression gradually changing to distaste as he looked at the water.

“Dude, what did you use for sunblock, SPF lard?”

“I burn easily!” Gray protested, smoothing out the bits of sunblock he could see on his skin.

“Yeah? Then maybe you should actually get it on all of your skin. Turn around.”

“It’s hard to reach back there! Besides, you just want an excuse to get your hands on me,” he argued, but did as he was told anyway, turning his back to Natsu.

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Are you complaining?”

Gray pouted but remained silent.

“That’s what I thought.”

It was hard to miss the smug tone in his voice.

Natsu’s hands spread the globs of lotion evenly across his back, occasionally stopping to knead on one of his muscles and then concentrating on his shoulders. Gray closed his eyes, biting his lip so as not to let on how much he was enjoying it. If this was what he got in exchange for some barbecued ribs, he'd love to know what other types of food Natsu liked.

“There you go.” Natsu said, giving his shoulders one last squeeze. “You can turn around now. It should be safe for you to walk in daylight again.”

Gray turned just in time to see Natsu lean back into his previous position.

“Are you implying I'm some sort of vampire? Cause I’m not the one with the pointy teeth.”

“No, but you are the one who offered to bite me.”

“True.” Gray laughed, and not wanting to lose the mood, he made his move, adjusting from a sitting position to a half straddle. He leaned in, close enough that he could feel the slight puff of Natsu’s breaths on his face as he murmured, “I can still make that happen.”

“You talk too much.” Natsu said just as quietly, peering into his eyes for a split second before closing his eyes and bridging the distance between them.

Gray hadn’t expected Natsu’s body to feel so warm against his, especially considering they were both wet from the pool water, and he instinctively pulled him closer. As arousing as the kiss was, and Natsu sucking on his tongue was definitely doing things to him, he realized he had no urge to push for more.

That should have been his first warning.

But he wasn’t really thinking about anything. His world had narrowed down to sensations. The torrid heat of Natsu’s mouth, the sharp sting of teeth nibbling on his lips, and the tingling pleasure of his hair being tugged, coupled with the sounds they were both making. Needy moans that would have embarrassed him if Natsu hadn’t sounded the same.

Gray liked it all a little too much. Already, the thought of separating filled him with a sense of dread. And perhaps that should have been his second warning.

He was busy running his hands up and down Natsu’s back when he felt him let go of his hair. His hands trailed down to his chest, but no lower, and he pulled away, leaving Gray to chase after him. Confused and more than a little disappointed, Gray opened his eyes. Natsu sat perfectly still, his eyes slightly widening as he sniffed the air. “THE RIBS!!!” Oh crap! He’d forgotten all about the ribs!

“Go open the lid,” Natsu urged, scrambling to get up and out of the pool. “I’ll be there in a few minutes with the sauce.”

Gray watched Natsu enter his house and then hurried over to his yard. The food smelled even better than before and when he opened the lid and poked the ribs with the tongs; he saw they were indeed done, the meat tender and ready to fall off the bone. Rather than stand around waiting awkwardly, he grabbed two beers from his fridge along with plates, napkins and utensils to bring outside.

He opened the sliding door that led to his backyard and found Natsu brushing sauce onto the ribs from an unmarked blue bottle. There was a content smile on his face as he worked away, and Gray felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight.

Shit!

He’d never been one for one-night stands, so why had he thought he’d just be able to go along this time? Because Natsu was hot and seemed willing?

Gray wanted to know more about him, but he wasn’t sure if Natsu felt the same way or if this was just a game he liked to play. What would happen if he played along to its inevitable conclusion? Would that be the end of it? The two of them- probably awkwardly- moving on as just neighbors who happened to have hooked up?

Was it wrong of him to want more?

Natsu looked up then, waving at him and gesturing him over. His smile widened when he noticed the beer bottles Gray was holding.

“Ooh, beer wasn’t part of the deal! I must have kissed you real good!” Natsu teased, accepting the bottle and easing some of the uncertainty Gray had felt about whether things would turn awkward after their make-out session in the pool.

“You’ll notice this is only domestic beer, so I wouldn’t get too full of myself if I were you.” Gray retorted, still playing along.

“Meh, beer is beer, and it goes great with ribs.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

The back and forth was nice, but Gray was itching to ask what was really on his mind.

Can I keep you? Or will you run off after the next pretty face that strikes your fancy?

The lid of the barbecue closed again, and Natsu walked over. “They should be ready in about five more minutes.”

He clinked bottles with him and took a swig. Gray followed suit and decided to just go for it. He’d rather know what to expect than hope for something that wasn’t meant to be.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he blurted out, sounding a bit more eager than he would have liked.

“Sure, shoot.”

Natsu gave no sign he knew what was coming, or at least that’s what his relaxed posture seemed to broadcast.

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

“Moving? God, no, I hate it with a passion. Might as well bury me here cause I’m never doing it again.”

“No,” Gray frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Natsu mock sighed, “I’m just trying to think of an answer that won’t go to your head.”

“What?” Gray didn’t know what to make of that answer. Was he trying to find a way to let him down gently?

“No, I don’t do this type of thing often.” Natsu admitted, meeting Gray’s eyes and holding his gaze. “Look, you’re hot and turned out to be fun to mess with, so I figured there was no harm in seeing where that led. But I’m not expecting anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Gray wanted to ask if that meant that he’d like to date, but to his chagrin, all that came out of his mouth was, “You think I’m hot?”

“See?” Natsu said, sounding amused. “What’d I tell you? Right to your head!”

He put his beer bottle down on the table and traded it in for the tongs and the plates before hurrying back to the grill to check on their food. Satisfied, he turned it off and heaped a large serving of ribs onto each plate.

Gray followed him to the table, only then noticing the sliced watermelon Natsu must have brought with him from his house. He bit into one to buy himself some time to organize his thoughts.

Next to him, Natsu had already begun to dig in, messily devouring the ribs, stopping only long enough to take a sip from his beer. Gray shrugged and did the same. It wasn’t like his table manners were anything to write home about, either. The moment the meat from the ribs touched his tongue, his taste buds were assaulted with flavor. Sweet, salty, spicy… all blending together in perfect harmony. It was by far the best ribs Gray had ever tasted. He could hardly believe they’d come off his grill. He glanced at Natsu admiringly. Not that he noticed, focused as he was on his plate.

“So, what other things can you make?”

Natsu looked up at his question. There was a glob of sauce at the corner of his mouth, driving Gray all sorts of crazy with the urge to kiss it off him, but he held strong.

For now.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this is it. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

“That’s too bad.” Gray tried but failed to suppress a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to show you all the best places to eat around here, then. You busy tomorrow night?”

Natsu shook his head, breaking into a smile so blinding it wiped every single thought out of Gray’s head. Save one.

"Nope, I'm all yours," Natsu answered after what looked like a brief moment of contemplation.

Gray sure as hell liked the sound of that.

“There’s just one thing…”

Natsu tilted his head and scrunched up his nose in silent question, which was just perfect.

“You’ve got a little something there,” Gray said, leaning in and licking the sauce off before claiming Natsu’s lips hungrily.

The kiss tasted like sauce and beer, but most of all, it tasted like more. And more was definitely bound to follow soon, tomorrow night, and many more days after.

Gray could feel it.

#fairy tail #gratsu #gratsuweek2k21 #natray #gray x natsu #natsu x gray #Gratsu Week 2021 #fics #other #prompt: impress #prompt: smile #prompt: smokey #humor #flirty

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