#he is the WORST boyfriend you’ll ever have

[euthymiya]

Dating Sukuna who’s the freshly-out-of-jail, gruff, mostly-rude asshole on the block—he can hardly keep a job and everywhere you see him, he’s smoking or has a beer bottle in his hand and he’s just. He’s so beyond everyone’s comprehension of why the hell you’re dating this lunatic. Everyone thinks it’s a phase—your old boyfriends never lasted too long, you have a bit of a track record for picking up the jerks, and this one seems like he’s the worst one so it only makes sense that soon enough, you’ll be giving the teary-eyed confession that you’re single again.

Except it never happens. It just keeps turning into week after month after year. And you’re still going strong. Everyone’s borderline in despairs about it too—your parents, your siblings, your friends, your distant aunt and uncle, even. They just don’t understand why anyone would stay so long with this harsh, rough man with no soft corners.

Until they watch him tsk and gently grab your wrist as you go to walk out the door, grumbling a quiet, you’re not leaving that door until you put your jacket on, it’s cold—I’m not taking care of you if you do. Or watch him sigh and roll his eyes exasperatedly as you look over at his plate and slowly (not so sneakily) try to steal a bite while he grunts, I told you I wouldn’t be sharing if you like my order better, all while he begrudgingly shares. And sometimes, if they’re lucky, they’ll catch that very rare, yet very entranced smile of his that he does when you laugh, love written between every crease in his permanently furrowed brows.

It’s a bit ironic, really—the best man you ever dated comes shipped with enough baggage that you should run. But you stay. You put in enough elbow grease to soften up those sharp corners, and you’ve built a home. Right in those strong, intimidating arms.

[frayedcircus]

doodling in a whiteboard with some friends and accidentally created the sloppiest most pathetic wet cat of a man you’ve ever seen. i hate him so much i hope he dissolves.

we named him cohan rivers bc it’s an awful name<333

(he secretly has weezer blue eyes)

thank you to @pearonpizza @yellowfrog456 @unofficial-trader-joes and @barrkcaat for helping create this horrible guy.

[emizzzleblur]

I asked my friend to place drivers on a political map based on vibes:

[venuslut]

FANTASIZING ABOUT a needy Choso Kamo ♡︎.

He can’t help it. Ever since you first introduced him to sex, he just can’t get enough. It’s not his fault that your cunt is so addicting, so much so that he’s often begging you to let him fuck you on his cock. It’s not his fault that you moan so beautifully that he can’t help but thrust into you harder so you’ll make more of those pretty sounds for him. It’s not his fault that you taste so good and he has to have you on his tongue, drinking your juices until you’re shaking and crying. He doesn’t mean to be so needy, but you bring out this side of him he can’t control.

How is he supposed to control himself when you walk around in those skimpy clothes, showing off your plump ass and perfect tits? It’s impossible. He’ll try to resist, have some self-control. But it isn’t long before he’s hugging you from behind, dotting wet kisses along your neck and pushing his hard-on into your ass. All while he’s begging you let him feel your wet cunt. And of course you’ll let him, how could you say no to your cute desperate boyfriend.

The minute you agree he has you laid out under him as he fucks his big cock into your tight cunt. Moaning and whimpering about how good it feels to be inside you again, his face red as he pushes every last inch of himself into you. He uses his weight to thrust into you, which only made your head go dizzy. He has you in a lazy mating press and your plush thighs slap against his hips every time he comes down, the sound of Choso’s deep thrusts is so musical, his tip abusing your womb to the point your eyes roll back. His mouth is so filthy too, and the worst part is, is that he doesn’t even realize it. “Fuck, baby... you’re sucking me in... your pussy’s so tight.” He groans into your ear, sucking onto your skin and leaving purple marks behind, intent on marking you as his. Although there was no point since you still had the hickeys from your last encounter, but it was never enough for Choso.

The poor curse is so in love with your body that he’ll go on for hours and hours just playing with your body. If it was up to him, you both would never leave the bed. Who needs to eat when he can just eat your cunt and you can suck his cock? Who needs to sleep when there’s a new position he wants to try? This man will not stop because that’s how addicted he is to your cunt. You curse the curse’s stamina and sometimes wish you had a normal boyfriend, but he usually fucks those thoughts right out of your head before you can try and act on them. “Choso… ngh!— h-hold on, my body…” you mumbled, unable to fully say your sentence. He hits a particularly sensitive spot and you let out a strangled cry, bucking your hips wildly to try and get that same pleasure again. Choso eyed your reaction, angling his hips to continue hitting that spot over and over again til you’re seeing stars and screaming out his name. You had no thoughts about shame, or how you should lower your voice, not when your handsome boy was fucking you within an inch of your life.

“Right there? ‘s that the spot, dove?” He pants, voice hoarse from his overwhelming desire for you. You’ve lost track of time, to obsessed with the way Choso has you creaming around his cock for the nth time. Everything was too much, but you loved it, in an addictive way. The overstimulation was addicting. His words were addicting. The sound of the bed hitting the wall was addicting. His cock was addicting. He was addicting. You always tease Choso about his neediness when in reality, you’re just as needy and obsessed as he is. You can tell Choso is close by the way his cock twitched inside you and how he speeds up his movements, rutting into you with wild abandon and chasing his orgasm.

You throw your head back into a pillow, your vision almost going black as you were consumed with ecstasy. The air was knocked out of your lungs with every snap of his hips, your senses filled with just the pressure of Choso. It felt like you were gonna throw up, but not in a bad way. “Baby… babybabybabybaby! A-ah! Mgn…” you cried out in pleasure, clawing at the sheets below you. Choso’s hands tightened around your hips, his careful grip growing into a bruising hold as he was solely focused on reaching his climax. “Hah— you feel sososososo good, dove. I love you, I love you so much,” he whimpered. It was right there, he could feel it, just a couple more thrusts and he’ll finally have his release. He wants to cum so bad, he needs to cum.

“Hey dove? C-can I fill your pretty pussy with my cum? Wanna cum inside you,” he begged, his voice broken as he pleads with you. “Please, my love… I want to stuff your pussy with my cum, wanna fill you up…” he continues, kissing your ankle and calf to convince you further. You didn’t need much convincing though, you were already to dumb and out-of-it to deny the poor curse. Frantically, you nodded your head, just wanting to feel his hot semen inside you. And you finally got your wish after a few more sloppy thrusts, before Choso goes still and empties his balls into your awaiting cavern. He lets out a guttural moan as ropes of cum spurt out. Slowly, he pulls out, his cock coated in a translucent white, his thighs and pelvis sticky from a mix of sweat and cum.

You both lay there in silence, the sounds of your labored breathing being the only noise echoing through the room. While coming down from your high, you remember that the reason you even got dressed today was because you had work. Annoyed, you lightly smack the upside of Choso’s head, complaining about how he made you late while you go to get out of bed and put your clothes back on. Choso rubs the area where you hit him as he watched you struggle to move and get out of bed, he looks at you like a kicked puppy and he knows he should be sorry for making you late but he can’t find it in him to feel guilty. Instead, Choso reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back further onto the bed and flushed against his sweaty chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and he lines soft kisses to your nape.

“I’m sorry, dove… Why don’t you call out and let me eat your pussy as an apology?”

[tacticalprincess]

tw somno, dubcon

könig using your pussy as a soothing agent for his nightmares. :(

you convince yourself it makes sense. he sees you as proof of everything good in the world, the one and only thing dear to him. sometimes when he sleeps his subconscious convinces him he’s still out on the battlefield, replaying his worst, most unlivable moments. so when he wakes up and needs something real and good to cling onto, simply clutching you tighter in his heavy arms isn’t enough. he complains that he can never get you as close as he needs you, so in moments like these it’s not uncommon to wake up to him slipping inside your soft, pliant pussy. all he has to do is lift your leg up and ease into your sleeping body from behind, and he rationalizes it by saying that it wouldn’t be so easy if you didn’t want it. it’s like your pussy is könig-shaped, always so accommodating for him.

“köni—?” you whine pathetically, brain still foggy from sleep. “bad dream?”

you hear him whimper at that through his heavy huffs. it’s still up for debate who’s more vulnerable in these moments. “shhh. let me have this, engel. you’re too far away.”

not having the energy to question him, you sigh and shift your ass back, taking advantage of how relaxed your body is to close the gap and spear yourself fully on his big cock. “‘m right here. you have it.” you comfort him lazily, eyes still closed as you clutch the large hand that comes to rest on your stomach, plastering you against his warm chest. “go back to sleep.”

you’ll make sure he’s okay in the morning, but for right now you let him take what he needs. it’s not like you could ever understand the psychological effects of warfare, it’s the least you can do for your hardworking boyfriend :(

“so good to me, so perfect.” he kisses the back of your head reverently, cock twitching inside of you. he ignores every impulse in body that’s telling him to fuck into you with all his strength, instead mindlessly grinding his hips as deep inside you as he can reach, holding onto you and soothing himself with the feeling of being encompassed by your sweet warmth.

it’s always just as mind blowing to him as the first time; how quickly your pussy is able to comfort him, putting him to sleep in more ways than one. if that isn’t proof enough of how meant for him you are, he doesn’t know what is…

[hoshifighting]

Could we get a reaction where the members make the reader cry?

seungcheol would freeze the moment he sees the tears in your eyes. he’s not used to seeing you like this, and it hits him harder than any argument ever could. “fuck, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—” he’d start, reaching out but stopping himself, his voice would drop, softer, “please, just... i’m an idiot, okay? i’ll fix it, i swear.” unsure if he should touch you yet. “hey, i’m sorry… i didn’t mean to… please, don’t cry.” he’s not good with his words when he’s panicking, but he’ll do anything to fix this, to make you smile again.

jeonghan prides himself on being the calm in the storm but when you start to cry... “are you seriously crying right now?” he’d say, but his voice would crack just a bit, backstabbing his own emotions. when he realizes that he’s the reason for your tears, the smirk would drop from his face, and he’d feel a pang of guilt deep in his chest. “shit, i didn’t want to make you cry,” he’d mutter, suddenly feeling helpless.

joshua’s heart would break at the sight of your tears. he’s always been the one to comfort you, not the one to cause your pain. “hey, hey, don’t cry,” he’d say softly, his hand reaching out to gently wipe your tears away. the guilt would eat at him as he realizes just how much he’s hurt you.

junhui would panic a little when he sees you crying. seeing you like this would make him feel lost. “wait, don’t cry, please,” he’d say, his voice almost pleading. he’d step closer, unsure of how to comfort you but desperate to try.

soonyoung would be devastated, immediately regretting whatever he said or did to make you cry. “shit, no, don’t cry,” he’d blurt out, his own eyes starting to water just at the sight of you. he’d pull you into his arms without a second thought, holding you close. “no, no, no… please don’t cry, i’m so sorry.” he’ the type of dude who doesn’t knows how to react when people are crying. especially if he’s the cause.

wonwoo would be stunned, when he sees your tears. he’s not good with words, but he’d try his best. “i’m so sorry… i didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that...” he’d say quietly. he’d reach out, hesitating for a moment before gently touching your shoulder. “i’m sorry. let’s talk, okay? i want to make this right.” he’ll do his best to express how much he cares, how much he didn’t want this to happen. he’ll sit with you, offering his hand, hoping you’ll take it. if you do, he’ll hold on tight, silently vowing to never let this happen again.

woozi would be hit with a wave of guilt that he couldn’t quite hide, even with his regular stoic expression. “you’re crying? jagi please let me—” “you’re so mean jihoon!” he’d feel a tightness in his chest, hating himself for being the cause of your pain. “i’m sorry… i shouldn’t have said that. i don’t want to see you like this.” he might not know what to say at first, standing there, feeling like the worst person in the world. he’ll gently take your hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it, his way of comforting you. he’ll sit with you in silence if that’s what you need.

minghao hates the idea of making you cry. he really likes balance and harmony, so seeing your tears feels like a personal failure. minghao will gently guide you to sit down, offering you a tissue and giving you the space to express how you’re feeling. he’s good at listening, at understanding what’s beneath the surface, and he’ll do everything he can to reassure you, to make sure you know that he cares deeply. his touch is gentle, comforting, as he promises to do better.

mingyu + seeing you cry because of him would completely wreck him. he’d instantly feel like the worst boyfriend in the world, his heart breaking at the sight of your tears. “oh no… don’t cry because of me, I don’t deserve it...” mingyu would pull you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering apologies and trying to comfort you as best as he can. he’d probably end up crying a little himself, unable to stand the thought of hurting you. he’ll do anything to make things right, to bring back your smile.

seokmin is always careful with his words, so when he sees you crying because of something he said, it feels like a knife to the chest, hands reaching out to cup your face, gently wiping away the tears. he’s the type to immediately feel guilty, replaying every word he said in his head, wondering where he went wrong. he’s desperate to make it right, holding you close and whispering apologies until you both calm down.

seungkwan will do anything—make silly faces, tell stupid jokes, even sing your favorite song—just to see you smile again, when that doesn’t work, he’ll just sit beside you, his heart breaking a little more every time he hears you sniffle. deep down, he’s scared, scared that he’s hurt you too much this time.

vernon feels like the ground’s been pulled out from under him. “shit, i—i’m sorry.” he’ll try his best, awkwardly pulling you into a hug, he’ll stay quiet, holding you until your breathing evens out.

chan seeing you cry because of him would completely break his heart. “shit, babe, i didn’t mean it like that.” his eyes loaded with worry as he reaches out to you. chan would pull you into a tight hug, holding you close as if he could shield you from any more pain, his heart breaking a little more every time he sees another tear fall.

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 | choso kamo

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Finding out your boyfriend's a vampire was far from the chill evening you planned with him. But you can't lie, imagining those fangs sinking down on and sucking on your skin....it's kinda hot.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: vampire bf! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern! au - oral (m! receiving) - handjob - fingering (f! receiving) - nipple play (licking, sucking, tweezing, fangs grazing) - piercings (nape and frenum) - biting (wrist, shoulder, breast, implied more afterwards) - Choso got a long schlong, rip - missionary position - overstimulation - clitoral play (swiping) - cervix fucking - the first time you and Choso have sex + you two being nervy/cute - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Choso takes blood supplements + drinks pigs blood - Yuuji is his half-brother - mention of blood (duh) and saliva/spit - proofread but will check for more l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4k (bro, wtf???)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: y'all watched that new ep, right? right. anywaysss, in celebration of choso [and yuuji]'s big fight being animated, i was thinking of vampy bf! choso for a few days and how cute/hot that would be! soooooo, enjoy~~ ☆ and tysm for 2.6k!!

“Sooo, you two gonna like fuck tonight?”

“Whatever happened to ‘How’s your day,’ ‘You doing okay,’ or ‘You still haven’t offed yourself after midterms,’ Nobara?”

“Yeah, my day is going fine, but answer the question.” 

“I swear to Christ…” you sigh heavily as you walk down the sidewalk. 

The month of October brings more dread to your being than anything else. As much as you want to be festive, order a pumpkin latte, and chill watching the leaves fall gracefully with the autumn times, college life does whatever it takes to prevent that. And what better way to do that than have you suffer with midterm exams. 

You and your roommate, Nobara, have experienced the worst, especially this week. Having to study and pull all-nighters so much that you two can count with four fingers at max how many hours of sleep you get daily. Whatever gets the work done. However, it shouldn’t cost you your necessary slumber. Even your other best friends, Yuuji and Megumi, are victims of the tests. Hell, Yuuji found out he had an exam the day BEFORE and had to come in clutch by spending the entire day finishing the two-page study guide!  

All four of you are depleted of fun; it’s non-existent as you try to navigate out of this academic hell…Despite that, though, there’s one thing you’re always looking forward to during the week: the weekend! Oh, yes, today is finally Friday. You’ve been anticipating this day throughout the week, finally done with your exams and ready to relax with your friends after so much schoolwork. But that’s not the only thing you’re looking forward to…

Because this weekend, you’ll finally be with your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of midterms. Choso Kamo, Yuuji’s older half-brother and the man of your life, is the only person you’d love to see sweep you off your feet and take you in his loving arms, away from all the stress and discomfort from your college life. The two of you have been dating for almost a year, and he’s, without a doubt, the sweetest guy you ever got lucky with. 

Since the start of this semester, it’s been hard for you two to meet at one place, let alone get on the phone. With you on campus and he outside with his job as a piercer, there have been times when you thought you’d never see him until winter break. Yet, it is now fall break, and Yuuji invited you and the gang to have a relaxing weekend at Choso’s place (with his permission). You accepted the invitation with a gleeful heart, practically bouncing and giggling at the thought of being in the same place as your partner again. And that’s where you’re heading now, walking down the sidewalk to his townhouse with a duffle bag full of your stuff, and you on the phone with Nobara to keep you company. 

“All I’m saying is,” the brunette starts on the other side of the line. “If there’s ever a good time for you two to get it on, it would be this weekend.”

“I’m sorry, since when has my sex life been on your mind instead of studying for the exam you have in ten minutes?” You hear your roommate suck her teeth, and you grin with satisfaction. “Besides, he and I are waiting for the perfect time to do it, no rush. And seeing as you, Megumi, and Yuuji will be in the same place as us, I highly doubt we’d ever think of having sex.”

“Hmm, fair point —KNOCK KNOCK— WHO IS IT!!?” You almost remove the device from your ear from Nobara’s abrupt yelling. “Sorry, Y/n. Megumi is here and says we gotta head to the classroom right now.” 

“That’s fine. I’m already at Choso’s place, anyway. See you guys later, and good luck with the exam.”

“‘Kay, see ya later.” She bids you farewell. “Also, if you two ever do it this weekend and you don’t tell me, as your best-est friend, I have legal rights to make sure all your cute underwear gets thrown out next time I take out the trash.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Nobara.” You scoff, your thumb already pressing the end call button and stuffing the phone in the pocket of your leggings. 

In just the nick of time, you make it to Choso’s townhome and climb up the stairs to knock on the door. Within seconds, Yuuji opens the door and greets you with a hug. 

“Y/n!” He’s always so eager and chipper when he sees you. “I was just about to text you; gotta run to the grocery store, then head to the pizza shop to place the order.”

You enter the foyer to remove your shoes while the salmon-haired other rushes to put his on. “Oh, how come?”

“The phones and websites seem to be down, so I gotta head there in person to place the order. But don’t worry, I’ll be right back before Megumi and Nobara.” He stands to open the door again before grabbing his car keys from the rack. “Choso’s up in his room right now, so you can say hi and chill with him while I’m gone.”

“All right,” You watch Yuuji run down to the sidewalk before he stops to shout something in your direction.

“Don’t do anything too crazy, ya lovebirds!” He sends you a cheeky grin, and you give him a playful glare with puffed cheeks.

“I won’t; go get the pizza!” He laughs at your response as he jogs down the street to his car, and you close the door when you see him drive off. 

Alone with Choso…The thought of being alone with your boyfriend for a few hours has the butterflies in your stomach become active, fighting the urge to smile with warm cheeks. It’s been a hellish month thus far. Finally, after all this time, being in your boyfriend’s arms is enough to wash off all the stress you’ve pent up for the past couple of weeks.

With glee in your steps, you tip-toe up the stairs with wholesome thoughts of you and your boyfriend. I wonder if he’s been eating right these days. Same with getting sleep, he has a bad habit of sleeping at ungodly hours…Oh my God, wait, are we going to sleep together? If so, it'll be the first time we share a bed together. Does that mean—

You mentally slap yourself out of your delusion when you stop at his bedroom door. Oh, snap out of it, Y/n! That’s just Nobara getting into your head. Plus, it’s not like you two will be by yourselves for the entire night —  the other three will be here. Hell, his own younger brother will be across the exact hallway! Don’t think such horny shit, for God’s sake…

You shake your head to abolish the impure thoughts, raising your fist to knock on your boyfriend’s door. “Chocho?" You greet with a nickname. "It’s me, Y/n. I just got here and—“ 

CRASH!!

The sound makes you jump, halting you from finishing that sentence. Rushed footsteps and another noise that something was bumped into follow along. “Ch-Choso? Everything all right?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” you can tell even from outside the room his voice had an unsure tone; he was, in fact, not good. “Just wait, I gotta—Ow!!”

You know you shouldn’t have done what you’re about to do as it goes against basic etiquette; however, when you hear sudden cries of pain from your boyfriend, how in the world would you stay still!? With a chewed lip, you grab the door handle and bust it open to enter his room.

You know you shouldn’t have done that. Because what you see before you is way beyond your comprehension. 

The carpeted floor had items all over the place. There are packets filled with what appear to be red liquids and tiny red pills contrasted with the white carpet. They must’ve been knocked over and made that noise. Suddenly, you notice a stain on the white mat in a bright red color. That was the thing that alerted your nerves, immediately searching for the figure standing behind the bed. It was your boyfriend, Choso Kamo.

But was it him? Because what on earth were you looking at!?? He still had the same face, light brown hair that was usually tied up now fell to his neck, his black “tattoo” on his face now red and leaking down to his chin. And his mouth was agape, your eyes noting that his canines were extended out more than usual with red fluid at the ends. Not to mention that the man was now shirtless! His bare chest and abdomen out for you, covered with smeared….Is…Is that blood?

Choso slowly moves his hands up in defense. “Y/n…Just stay calm for me, okay?”

The entire scene was too much for your brain to grasp, your breathing increasing to an unstable pattern, and your eyes looking at every jarring detail doesn’t help ease the thoughts going way too fast for you. The worried expression of your boyfriend has your body at a standstill, and your limbs quiver as if you’re about to give way. So, what are you left to do?

You faint.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He stares at you, and you stare at him.

He averts his gaze shyly away from you, and you keep yours fixated on his.

Brown orbs teeter meekly to your figure sitting on his bed before reverting back to the other side, and yours refuse to leave his face, practically sinking holes into his forehead. 

This has been going on for five minutes ever since your consciousness returned, and Choso cleaned up the mess in his room and himself — now, he wears a black tank top after cleaning the red stains off his body. After giving you an explanation as to what happened, you haven’t said a single word to him. You only stare at him while pondering questions of your own. And you can tell the lack of communication makes the poor man uncomfortable in the confines of his bedroom. So, for his sake (and your headache-inducing curiosity), you eventually uttered something.

“So,” you say the first word with a long pause, treading carefully on which questions to ask. “Those pills…are filled with blood?”

“Yes…” He admits with his gaze still not away from you. 

“And you take them every day?”

“Twice a day…”

Okay…Next question, “And those small packets,” you point to the dresser where a pile of said red packets stack upon one another. “Also blood?” He nods slowly. “Human blood?”

He finally brings his eyesight to you but with a hurried shake to the head. “No, no! It’s pig’s blood.”

Is that worse or better?? Never mind— You then point to your set of canines. “And your teeth, I’ve never seen them that long...”

“They only get like that when I don’t drink blood for a while. So, when you knocked on my door, I was just about to open a packet. But then I heard your name and kinda panicked…”

“Oh my God…” Everything comes together and hits you all at once. From his pale skin contrasting yours, the unusual tattoo across his face now revealed as a blood mark, or all those times you caught him drinking his super red "beet juice." It all comes down to the only acceptable truth that feels foreign to leave your lips. “…..My boyfriend is a vampire.” 

Choso cringes internally at the words you uttered. The truth has finally come, and he didn’t even mean for it to happen, at least not like this. Who in their right mind would want to reveal to their partner that they’re a blood-sucking monster? It’s the most dreadful talk of his life that Choso has done all his years avoiding. And now you, his sweet, perfect thing, have discovered his abnormal existence.

“That’s…” He cringes harder when you say more words. “So...” Anxiety pools his stomach, mind filled with uneasy guesses on what you’d think of him now. He could only assume the worst; it’s only natural. “...Cool!!”

Wait, what? That’s not what he expected. Way off, actually.

He feels the dent of the bed when you move closer to him, your face merely inches away from his as you examine every single feature of him. It takes the vampiric man aback, holding his breath while watching your face stare at him intensely with your beautiful eyes, beaming with excitement and wonder. And his vision slowly drifts to your lips, watching them move as you ask questions. And he keeps staring until, “—so…Choso!!” He snaps his orbs back to yours, his cheeks blossoming pink. “I’m asking you a question. So, since you’re a vampire, how come you’re not melting or sparkling when the sun touches you? Is that why you wear black all the time?”

“You mean that stuff from the books and movies?” He questions your logic, but it’s not your fault; he’s sure many others would’ve asked the same. “I don’t know about melting, but my skin gets dry if I stay out too long.”

You hum along to his answer, nodding as if you were in a lecture. “How come Yuuji isn’t a vampire, or at least half? Wait, does he know!?”

“No! No, he doesn’t. I became a vampire because my father was a vampire and turned me and my mother into one. I think I was around the age of twenty. After she died and my dad found Itadori’s mom, he didn’t change her into one. So, with that luck, I guess he isn’t fully a vampire. But I wouldn’t blow past it if he has some characteristics…”

“I see.” Again, you nod along. That might explain some things, like why he’s so fricken fast when he plays sports and that crazy-like strength he has… “So, how long have you been like this?”

“Almost a hundred and thirty.” 

Woah. “And when have—I’m sorry, how long have you tasted human blood?”

Choso ponders on that question for a few seconds before answering. “I started when I became one. I try not to have it as I did back then; the last time I had it was around two years ago. But even then, I switched more into donated or pig’s blood for the past four decades.” 

“Do you ever have cravings for human blood?” Was that too much to ask? It possibly was because Choso makes a face that conveys slight objection. Yet your mind genuinely wanted to know.

“I do, but I try not to act on them. Especially now that I have a human brother, and you…I guess it doesn’t feel right that I do so, ya know.”

His response replays in your mind, not because you were confused but because you understood where he was coming from. You’re sure it wasn’t easy for him to go around and sink his fangs into human flesh back then; modern times should make the task a lot easier with so many people on this earth. Although, you can imagine how hard it must have been for Choso to ignore an urge like that, specifically when it caters to his whole being. Alternatives such as pills and blood packets can only do so much.

“..…Have you ever thought of biting me?” 

The question came out on its own as your curiosity got the best of you. Yet you don’t regret asking because it’s not impossible to think of ever happening.

Choso’s brown eyes look into yours sincerely, releasing a heavy sigh as if the truth was weighing him down. “…Yes.” 

Your expression doesn’t change, remaining neutral. There’s no point in asking why because you can practically answer that yourself: he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s very considerate, so no wonder he’d put your health and well-being above all else. So, why not do the same for him? “…Would you like to taste mine?”

His eyes widen at your proposal, surveying your face to see any twinges or crack soft a smile that entails a joke. There were none, your expression exhibiting nothing but honesty. “A-Are you sure??”

You nod with a smile. “Yup. I mean, it’s not every day someone gets to have a vampire taste their blood — let alone see a vampire, period. Besides,” you stretch out your arm, your wrist stationed in front of Choso. “If it were any other random vampire, I’d probably throw garlic their way.” 

The man scoffs at your comment. “Something also you see in books and movies, Y/n.”

“Whatever,” the two of you laugh at your silliness. “But I’m serious, Chocho. I’m fine as long you’re the one doing it. So, go on.” 

A moment of hesitation keeps him in his thoughts, the mental cogs of his brain deciphering what course of action he should take. But he does take your wrist with a large hand, bringing it towards his mouth. And before you know it, the vampiric man unsheathes his fangs out for display and sinks them into your flesh, tearing the skin as they pierce through. 

The sharp pain was expected, but you still forced your eyes shut and took in a big inhale. Choso watches your reaction as his fangs take in a sample of your blood for him to taste. The familiar texture of the body fluid courses through him, and drips of it slide down to his tongue. You exhale through your mouth, pursed lips blowing out cool air. It felt as though two needles were simultaneously stabbing your wrist, your hand forming into a fist to situate yourself through the hurtful sensation. 

And Choso just keeps watching you as he drinks your red fluid, taking in your graceful reaction. He knows it hurts, but you don’t say anything, pushing through it for the sake of him. He examines your steady breathing, eyes sewn shut, and plump limps agape for inhalation. You looked so good like this — tasted good as well, very sweet with a floral scent; it must have been your signature perfume. It intoxicates him, thinking of your body and fragrance on him and your sweet taste on his tastebuds. It ignites something inside him. Something that he hadn’t experienced in a long time…

“Choso?” You call out to him as his blinks signal that he heard you. “You done there? Don’t want you sucking my arm dry.” You jest to him.

He takes the hint and removes his teeth from your wrist, licking the two pierced holes of excess blood that seeps out. “My bad.”

You tease him some more. “Do I taste that good to you?” You didn’t expect him to give you a curt nod, a silent compliment from your boyfriend. “O–Oh…That’s good to know…” You say timidly, gaze averting downwards. Then, you notice something in the crotch of his pants. You gasp: a pinched tent. Choso follows your sight, finding out about his predicament to his horror. He opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him. “Can I take care of it?” 

Again, Choso tries to say something, but no words dare to come out as you crawl up towards him. His brain short circuits at your movement, his back hitting the headboard of his bed. His blush creeps around to his ears, contrasting his pale skin and chocolate-colored hair. You smile at him; he’s so adorable and shy about this. “Mind I take the lead for a minute?” You ask for permission, even though the answer is quite clear when he peers at your lips. He nods, your face drawing inward and your soft lips landing on his.

One kiss. Two kisses and a moan. Three kisses pass, and it’s at this point that you two can’t get off each other. As his hand snakes to the back of your head to deepen the kiss, he takes your mewls with his lips, the insertion of his tongue making your toes curl. 

Taking the lead as promised, you bring a hand down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, bringing the zipper and the clothing down to throw on the floor. Your fingers curl around the band of his black boxer briefs, pulling them down to reveal his lo— WHAT THE FUCK!!??

His erection springs out from his underwear, and what you’re met with is a fucking behemoth. For one, the thing was way longer than you anticipated — most definitely the longest you’ve had within reach. And because of its length, it looked so pretty to look at. The way his precum trickles down his glans to the underside is so magnificent to your eyes that you’re practically stuck looking at it. And…Is that a piercing right at his frenulum? Oh, wow. Vampire dick, huh.

“Heh, you like what you see, princess?” Suddenly, you feel so small from being called out with that little tease from your boyfriend. You give him a condescending expression, making him chuckle to himself. And who told him to call you that cute nickname!?… Keep going.

Back to the matter, you ogle at his dick again and mentally prep yourself by slowly moving your hand toward it. Your fingers curl around the base and unhurriedly stroke him to figure out a good pace to start. A moan from Choso entails that you know what you’re doing, so you dial up the speed and go further up, stopping your strokes from his piercing down to the base.

He becomes more vocal as your friction becomes more confident, spitting on your hand and tightening your grip to make it easier for his rough skin to slide across your palm. Sticking with a firm and consistent rhythm, you watch your hand go to work on his shaft, watching more of his precum leak and slide down to your fingers. It was so lewd yet so arousing; you feel the throbbing heat between your legs begins to form, swaying your ass to ease the pleasurable sensation while instructing a pornographic act.

“Ahhh, ahhnn, oh shit…” He stammers to give you a proper response, your hand feeling too good. “Oh fuck, your hand feels so good, angel, so goo—Nhhhh!!”

“Really?” You can’t deny the pride you feel for yourself, so you move down to situate between his legs. “That’s all that matters, then.” You bring your free hand to massage his testicles and cover more surface, and more of Choso’s whines and croaks fill the space, his hips bucking to ensure more friction and pleasure on his end.

With the rate this is going, more of his essence leaks out from his urethra, and the raunchy image playing right in front of you has your lips quiver. An intrusive thought roams around your brain while looking at his pink glans. You chew on your lips as you decide on what to do. And when you finally do, it’s now or never.

With a gulp, you bring the tip of his cock to your lips, and the man sharply gasps at the wet sensation of your tongue on his glans. The precum leaves a salty aftertaste on your tastebuds, proving that this is happening: you’re giving your vampiric boyfriend a blowjob right now. Deciding to take things to the next level, you intake more of his inches as much as you can. Not the whole thing because you know you’d probably choke, so you take your time inhaling his length at a comfortable pace and manner. And once you bob your head, the hisses and groans from Choso should give you an idea that he’s feeling elated.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Y/n, your mouth feels so good—Oh shit…” He brings a hand down to the top of your head, a sign you can guess that he wants you to keep going. And so you do, speeding up your motions. Your mouth sucks and teases the underside of his dick, your tongue curves and licks around the piercing of his frenulum, and he jerks when you slowly teasingly lick from the base to the tip. You bring your hand to the rest of the inches you couldn’t cover, your pretty fingers sliding up and down his dick while your free hand comes to his balls for you to massage. The sudden contact of your hands wasn’t expected, his body jolting to the sensations of your tongue and fingers around him, kneading his scrotum as you playfully lick on his cockhead. “—Khhh, ohhhh, fuck…Y/n, baby, I’m—Ahahhh!!”

From the sound of it, he was bound to release his load. So you prepare and bring the tip back into your warm mouth, urging the man to climax. With a few more pumps from your hands coinciding with the laps and sucks of your plump lips, he ruts his groin to your face as his essence spreads inside your oral cavity. And you take it like a champ, sucking every pump to your throat, not letting the tip go until he finished. So, once his body calms down, you release him, wiping off the trail of saliva from your mouth.

Yet it doesn’t stop there; of course, it doesn’t.  Because Choso’s cock is very much still sprung and active from your blowjob, meaning it’s inevitable that you’re going to move on to the next phase. And judging by the sheer length of this thing, you have no idea how that shit is gonna fit inside of you. Damn, vampire dick sure is something…

“Y/n?” You snap back from your thoughts when Choso calls out to you, noticing you gawking at his size. “You don’t have to do the rest if you don’t want, baby. I can take care of it.”He’s so sweet looking out for you as he’s aware that you’re a little worried. 

But you surprise him when you exit off the bed for a quick second, removing your leggings and underwear for the carpet to keep for you. The same thing goes for your matching bra. And as you crawl back to bed, his wide eyes never leave your lower figure, watching you lie on your back with your head on a pillow and your legs spread wide. “As long as you take the lead, I’ll be fine, Chocho.”

It’s his turn to gulp and ease his dry throat before getting on his knees and positioning himself between your legs, dark brown orbs intaking every detail of your cunt that’s exposed for him. You chew on your lip, “It’s embarrassing if you stare so hard at it, ya know…”

“S-Sorry,” He apologizes while getting back to the task. He grabs ahold of his length and aligns the tip to your wet entrance, and your breath hitches at the contact. “I’ll go real slow, okay?”You give a couple of honest nods for confirmation, and he watches your breathing. When he notes your inhales and exhales, he pushes into your folds. With every inhale you take, he nudges further into you. The pain gets bitter and bitter by the second, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you. “Relax for me, angel, relax.” He comes down to whisper those words to ear; swear to God, you could’ve moaned right there and then. However, you switch your focus to following his advice, reminding your body to stop resisting the unfamiliar limb making entry. The pain is still present, but you count your breaths to distract your mind until the tip finally makes it in, a sharp gasp sneaking past you and a hiss from Choso when you involuntarily grasp around him while he pushes more of him inside.  

However, he doesn’t move right away, giving you as much time as you need to catch a steady pattern to breathe along with. Your head already feels too hot, and your chest feels too tight to breathe. You peer down to find that he is only halfway in, and there’s no amount of words to describe the disbelief you’re experiencing at this moment. “I feel…so full already…” You nearly choke on your words. You can practically feel his piercing scrape your insides.

“I know, princess,” he comforted you with a kiss on the forehead while lifting your shirt, your chest meeting his cold, slender fingers that massaged your mounds. All the while, he pushes his cock further into your chasm, and your breathing goes shaky as you try and take every inch of him. Then all of a sudden, your body jolts upward when you feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix; you can only guess now that everything’s entirely inside you. Oh yeah, vampire dick is most definitely something else. Tears start to water your eyes, and your hands come around Chos’s neck, the coldness of his nape piercing greeting your skin. “—Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ…I’m gonna go start moving now, Y/n.”

You appreciate the warning because, with the way his hips start to create a motion to and fro from your entrance, it’s surreal that his shaft is churning your inner wall with minimal effort. Shivers crawl up your spine every time the base meets your southern lips, grazes to your most tender spots result in you chewing on your bottom lip, and God, the occasional jab to your cervix is something you’ll have to get used to. He sucks on one nipple while the other hand tends to the other, the laps of his tongue on the bud of your breast feel so good, and you gasp when his fangs lightly graze it. So exhilaratingly dangerous. 

“Choso—Ohhhh…” you coo, your head thrown back when he tweezes your nipple simultaneously with the jab to your cervix. The pace of his thrusts increases a tad, and your voice becomes more vocal than before, filling his bedroom with your breathy whimpers. “So big, you’re so big for me—Ohooo!”

“—Mmfhh!! Fuck, you feel so good for me, princess…Shiiiit—” The way your cunt wraps around him so tightly causes him to rut into you harder and faster, evoking spine-chilling whines from your puffy, bitten lips. Your disheveled figure squirms on the sheets, holding onto Choso for dear life as he churns your tummy insides. Your fragrance attacks his nose when he kisses your neck, nibbling the skin to listen to your cute gasps more. Then, the urge rises. He opens his mouth for his fangs to scrape your neck.

“Ahahhnn!! Ch–Chosooo!!” 

Your voice halts his unconscious, realizing what he was about to do and quickly withdrawing his teeth from your neck. No, not now… He thinks to himself, moving his fangs to your shoulder instead. The bite elicits a sharp shriek from your unbeknownst self. Your nails dig into his shoulders, the pain motivating him to explore more of your body with your mouth. 

You can feel his kisses trail down your collarbone and breast, sucking on your nipples once more before leaving a tiny bite. You clamp around his girth as a response, which jabs into your cervix repeatedly with precision. More kisses and licks later, and he leaves a bite mark by your collarbone, sucking on the spot to taste more of your sweet blood. Your mind goes dizzy with the constant of his lips and teeth, and the commotion down south has you wrap your legs around him, caging him in as your climax is soon to come.

“—Nnaahh! Ahaahhnn!! Oh, God, Ohmyfuckin’Go—Hhmmff!!” Choso leads a hand down to your clitoris, and you see stars in no time. “Chosooo!! Yer handsss, you’re gonna make me cummm!! Ooooh, shhahhh!!”

Choso listens to your pleas with attentive ears, his fingers swiping rampantly on your clit. Your choked sobs are so beautiful to hear. The way your walls grasp around his length entails you’re about to come on him any second now. “Go on, my angel. Ring me out—Hnnghh!! So fuckin’ tight…”

Erratic ruts to your sloppy cunt cause wet noises to fill your eardrums, and the heat in your face is unbearable while your head pounds harshly. With the swipes on your clit and him grinding his cock to your tender spot, it’s apparent that you two come concurrently. He fills your cunt with his anticipated load while your velvety walls contract around him euphorically, and exchanged pants fill the space between your sweaty bodies. 

The two of you experience shocks of your own as your heaving bodies rest on each other, Choso nuzzling his face to your neck as his hand softly massages your breast. Your body calms down, gradually exiting your blissful haze. But it tenses again when you feel another sharp pain in your shoulder, and you snicker while pulling his ear to tease. 

“Let you have a taste, now you’re already hooked, huh…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Choso uses a washcloth to dab on the bite marks around your body, gently pressing down on it and wiping off any blood that leaves your newly added markings. The warm cloth feels good on your cold skin — as if the stinging sensation subsides in seconds. 

“You know,” You hum along as he takes care of your body. “I didn’t think you’d be that much of a biter.”

“Sorry,” he moves to your front, dabbing the teeth marks on your breasts and shoulders. You can see the hint of pink that flushes his cheeks and ears. “Got a little carried away…”

You giggle. “No need to apologize, Chocho.” The nickname has him blush harder. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “Just goes to show that you were enjoying the moment.”

His hands suddenly stop moving, the washcloth now around your wrist. “…Did you?” Caramel eyes dare to peek at yours. “Did you enjoy it?”

You could tell that the question carried a deep-rooted meaning. Not only was this the first time you and Choso had sex, but it was also within the same day you found out he was a vampire. If you were in his shoes, you could guess he’d probably think you didn’t like the experience or found it heavily discomforting. Yet that wasn’t the case at all. So, you have to communicate that to him. 

With a warm smile, you let him know, “Yes, I did. I had a great time.” Before you can say more, a random thought prompts you to ask a question. “Hey, I felt you were about to bite my neck, but you didn’t.”

 “Hmm? Oh, umm, yeah, I did. The only way for someone to become a vampire is by biting the neck,” He confirms, his gaze drifting down to your wrist as he uses the wet cloth to dab on the mark. “But I don’t want you becoming one now. At least, not without you telling me.”

“Wait, you don't want me to be a vampire?”

“I mean, that’s up to you, honestly. As much as I love you and would love the idea of spending my life with you, that’s only my selfish wish at the end of the day. The choice should be yours to make, not mine.”

You remove your hand from his hold and place it on his cold cheek. The other hand comes up to cup the other, provoking your boyfriend to look directly at you. 

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” You have never seen his face change into a flash of pink so quickly; it makes you giggle at him. “Chocho, I appreciate you telling me the truth about yourself. I’m sure it’s been hard on you to carry this burden of pretending to be something you’re not, especially with me. So, again, thank you…However, I can’t really see myself as a vampire, at least right now. My life seems to be at a good place right now, and I want to experience it first-hand, ya know. With you by my side.”

You know Choso is listening to you word-for-word; his brown eyes never leaving your face is evidence of such. So you continue: “So, until then, let me be human for a while longer. When the time is right, I’ll let you know. Sounds good?”

The brown-haired man gives you a smile before answering, resulting in yours broadening. “I’m cool with that.”

You nod. “Cool.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…You want more of my blood, huh.”

“…..I’m sorry,” you laugh at his awkwardness. “You just smell so good. And you taste sweet…”

“In that case,” you withdraw your hands from his cheek and extend an arm out for him. “Have one last taste.”

There’s hesitance when his hand grabs ahold of your wrist. But when he knows you’re complying and on board with this, Choso brings your wrist to his lips, his fangs pierce down on your skin, and he sucks your blood. The pain this time around wasn’t too excruciating. Maybe with all the bites you have on your body right now, you came around and got used to it. 

And who knows? Perhaps you’ll grow to love the sensation soon enough.

“Yo! I’m back!” The two of you freeze. A familiar voice from the other side of the hallway brings you back to the present moment. You then remember that Yuuji promised to return from the store and pizza place. And seeing as though time has passed enough for him to be done, the warmth of your body shifts to a disturbing shiver when the bedroom door opens up. “I got the pizzas and left them on top of the oven—“

The salmon-haired other stopped mid-sentence when his eyesight landed in your direction. You can only imagine what’s going through his mind when he looks at you and Choso because that was the same experience you went through a few hours back.

Yuuji looks at the two of you on top of the bed. Clothes decorating the carpeted floor, both your bodies free and nude, your tits out for him to see crystal clear. One of your hands holds a washcloth that harbors red, bloody stains. The other hand stretched out towards Choso’s mouth, where the younger notices fangs withdrew from your wrist. The newly drawn blood from your new mark connects to the sharp teeth of his older brother.

Thirty seconds go by where no one says anything, just three pairs of eyes and figures falling victim to the discomfiting silence of this situation. Until Yuuji starts to uncomfortably laugh at the sight before him for a few seconds. And then suddenly, he stops, and his balance gives way for his body to meet with the floor beneath him.

He fainted.

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly <3 header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!

[luveline]

do you have anything more from office frenemies with james? i just read it and i loved it so much

yes! love u ty

—you and James don’t get along until you kind of, sort of do. fem!reader, 1.5k

James listens to the most obnoxious playlist in the mornings. There’s about a fifteen minute window between when he arrives and when the workday officially starts, which coincides exactly with your window. He often gets the same elevator ride, walks a pace beside you, and decides whether he’s going to let the ‘lady’ go first through the door depending on the day. 

That morning, he’d opened the door widely, grinned at you with music blaring loud enough to make a normal person deaf from his earphones, and let you pass. Then he pretended to stick his foot out to trip you up, pulling it back at the last second. 

Jerk, you think, angry even now as he tucks himself into his desk, his earphones still ridiculously loud. He actually, genuinely, is going to get hearing damage. You’re not being bitter. Human ears aren’t meant for that. 

You click onto the workplace Outlook and open a tab on your desktop. How loudly can you listen to music? you google. A few articles appear straight away that fit your purpose —you drag them each into an empty email. Then, smiling to yourself, you find an article on the negative effects of workplace noise pollution and how this sort of selfishness can affect your coworkers’ mental health and add that at the very top. 

To: jamesp@outlook.wpa.uk 

Hi James, 

please find attached a few articles I felt might be important for you to read.

Worst, 

Your unhappy adjacent desk. 

You know he’s received it when he laughs loudly, turning down his music with a few quick clicks on his phone. 

An email comes through to your inbox shortly after.

Hi bestie, 

I’m so so sorry for the noise. Please find attached a few articles I, in turn, felt you might enjoy. 

Best, 

James Potter :) 

He’s attached an irksome variation of articles. Why music can help you get ready for the day. Ten ways workplace friendships are important. Can you really find your soulmate at work? 

You open your personal messaging system. You tend not to use it with James, but this morning he’s winding you up. 

I could report you to HR for that last one, you send. 

He replies quickly. You try very hard not to look up at him from over your desktop. I didn’t mean me. 

You’ll be deaf by thirty. 

Jealous you don’t have such great taste in music? 

Jealous of everyone in the annex. 

Want a cup of coffee?

You meet his gaze finally over the computer, find him already looking at you. You shake your head scornfully. In what world would you ever want him to make you a coffee? He’s never actually offered to make you one before, to be fair, but he’s awful to you so what are you supposed to think? He’ll probably poison it. 

He stands to leave. Remus, the other accountant to complete your trio, arrives while he’s gone with his boyfriend Sirius in tow. They’re also James’ best friends, unfortunately. It makes for some awkwardness. 

“Where is he?” Remus asks you, in the midst of a quick goodbye kiss before Sirius makes his way to his desk further down the office. 

You nibble your lip and give a dispassionate shrug. You hate talking about James. You hate his stupid mess of hair, his reading glasses, his lips when he smiles crookedly and worse when he’s glaring at you. You hate the way he sighs as he clicks his neck, the quick lap he does every other hour complaining of tired legs, the genuine tenderness he shows you whenever you’re sick. You hate James. You don't like to think about him too much lest you get caught, a fish in a net.

Or a fish with a painful hook in its lip. 

“Ah, you’re here,” James says, two cups of coffee in his hand. 

You’re only a little heartbroken when he puts one on his desk and one on Remus’. Didn’t want one anyways. 

Remus grins as James comes up behind him for a rough hug and hair ruffle. “How was last night?” 

“I wish you’d come. Sirius spent all night trying to out drink Marl, you know he can’t, so I spent all night holding his hair out of his face. I wasn’t gonna talk to him this morning, but he was being very pathetic.” 

James laughs. You pretend you aren’t listening to them, pretend you don’t feel left out even if they have no reason to be your friend, clicking at random things on your screen and scrolling through spreadsheets long finished and filed. “You know I couldn’t come, Moony,” —no point starting on their awful nicknames— “what if she needed me?” 

You still. She? 

“James, there’s not much you can do,” Remus says gently. He’s a quiet, soft sort of man, but they’re all so loud about loving one another. “You have to let her… you know.” 

You feel them both looking at you, your gaze steadfast on your screen. 

“Try not to think about it,” Remus says. 

“I’ve been distracting myself,” James agrees. 

Oh, you think. Oh. I’m such a dick. 

“You could go home?” Remus says, putting his face in his hand. “I could cover you.” 

“It’s too much work.” 

“I know, but, you know, I’ll do half, and you’ll only have half to catch up on when you come back.” 

You’re not sure who she is, and you very much still don’t like James Potter, but you're not heartless. He sounds awfully upset, fragility to his voice and a foreign balling of his fist by his hip. “Um,” you say, clearing your throat weakly, “well, with me and Remus, we could cover for you.” 

James’ face is unreadable, looking down at you. “You’d cover for me?” he asks. 

“Your work isn’t exactly hard, James.” 

“But you’d do it?” 

“How long will you be off for?” 

James frowns. “Like, two days?” he says quietly. 

“That’s fine. We can do that,” you say, checking with Remus from around James hip. “Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Remus says quickly. 

James looks at you long and hard. “You’re not kidding?” 

“No, James. Not kidding. You’d do the same for me, right?” 

James leans down to hug you before you can stop him. His arms wrap around your shoulders, a perfectly amicable touch made up of sleeper muscle and the attractive smell of almond oil, nearly sweet, slightly woody. He laughs against your cheek as he pulls away, turning back to Remus for a similar hug. “Thank you. I’ll go tell Danny right now.” He beams at you. His relief is thick as honey, palpable in his warm tone. “Thank you.” 

You can’t look at him very long. 

The memory of his fingers linger, the weight of his arm behind your head. He excuses himself to go talk to your boss, and you and Remus sit in a semi-awkward silence, of which you’re wholly responsible. 

“His cat is dying,” Remus says eventually.

You wince. “Oh, no, really?” you ask. 

“He’s had her since we were kids. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“I really do think he’d do it for me,” you interrupt. “I’m not, you know, cruel, because we don’t get on.” 

“I know. James knows that too.” 

You want to get defensive. Why does it matter if James knows? But Remus is too nice to argue with, and secretly, strangely, you’d wanted James to know you aren’t mean. You wouldn’t have sent him that email this morning if you’d known, and maybe this is apology enough for that. 

Still, it doesn’t feel right when James returns, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I will bring you the most amazing desserts of all time as a thank you. I won’t even put your mug on the top shelf the next time I wash it,” James promises you. 

You bat aside the rage of knowing he’s the culprit and instead get out of your seat before he can leave. “Uh, James?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” 

You look at the floor by his shoes. “About earlier…”

James stands subtly between you and the bulk of the office. “You okay?” 

“I just– I’m sorry for complaining about your earphones. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.” 

“You weren’t insensitive,” he says, “I was being obnoxious. Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“I–” You hate yourself for all your stammering. “Hope whatever is wrong, that you’re okay. I’ll cover for you for the week if you need me to.” 

“Please stop feeling sorry for me. It looks weird on you. I much prefer you when you’re frowning, you get these super deep wrinkles in your forehead that I just love.” 

You turn away without looking up. “I’m gonna input all your sales information wrong.” 

“And I’m gonna bring you the best donut you’ve ever tasted to say thanks, sweetheart.” 

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (1)

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 9.1k

warnings: blood, blood-drinking, one injury, flirting, TXT is mentioned and they’re horny brats but protective!JK swoops in, ANGST, mentions of compulsion, past deaths, JK smokes for like, one second, fire, resentment, but trust me, they will fall for each other all over again, two-shot 💖

smut warnings: OC goes into HEAT at the worst time, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, (more intense smut to come in part 2)

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). I love this couple and they deserve their (steamy) happy ending. They both embody the “right person, wrong place.”

Part 1 | Part 2 |

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.”

You first saw him again at a wedding.

When you arrive at the venue, your eyes scan the sea of strangers for him like an automated response. You clutch onto the chain of your purse, the tight squeeze in your chest never seeming to disappear. Once you’re sure of his absence, the tension in your shoulders fades.

Round tables are arranged around a central dance floor, so you sit at the closest one, joining in the crowd’s applause despite not knowing what’s happening. The happy couple is swaying to romantic jazz music played by the live band, their adoring smiles perfectly matched.

“What did I miss?”

Your old classmate chuckles when she notices your presence, using her fingers to count as she lists off her answers. “The ring bearer, flower girl, the da-da-da-da piano introduction, the vows, the kiss, the first dance—so pretty much everything. Surprised to see you here.”

So are you. It took you hours of hyping yourself up before deciding to attend. You never RSVP-ed properly, allocating all your time to getting ready instead. Not that you had anyone to impress, but it’s a wedding. Sweatpants weren’t going to cut it.

“Can everyone please have a seat? We’re going to hear the best man give his speech!” That authoritative voice belonged to Kim Namjoon, the headmaster of BTSU (Be The Supernatural University). His dimple smile emerges when he notices you and he waves excitedly, dropping the microphone in the process. 

You giggle. “See? I didn’t miss everything, Lia.”

She hands you a glass of champagne, then clinks the glass against your own. “Okay, Ms. Fashionably Late. At least you look hot.”

The guests take their seats while the couple sits at the head table near the dance floor. There’s a small stage next to them and on it is a microphone stand under a beautifully decorated archway. A blanket of silence washes over the crowd as anticipation rises, but the best man is nowhere to be found. Murmurs spread quickly as heads turn in confusion.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

You don’t have to look to know who that voice belonged to. The glass in your hand trembles, on the brink of shattering under your tightening grip. Your mouth parts open in shock, your heart rate beating so loudly that it rings in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd’s applause as the so-called best man gets on stage. 

Jeon Jungkook — your ex-boyfriend.

Could you even call him your ex? Your history was, in a word, complicated. Boyfriend and girlfriend weren’t labels you two were fortunate enough to share. Bound by trauma, forced into despair, crippled with pain — the “relationship” in question was toxic. 

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me…”

A hybrid had many advantages — compulsion included. With one look, you ordered him to forget having loved you and then left. Traveling the world healed you and the thought of returning to your college campus never once crossed your mind until a year later.

Your old professor sent you a text — a wedding invitation to be specific. Though the gesture was sweet, you preferred staying blissfully ignorant. You almost deleted it. However, F.O.M.O was a crippling feeling, so you ultimately gave in. 

You were aware the chances of running into Jungkook were high, but that’s why you arrived late on purpose. You had let your guard down too easily, assuming he might’ve left early or not bother showing up at all. What a fool. 

The fairy lights strung across the venue illuminate him with a gorgeous golden glow as he steps onto the stage. You hold your breath as the world seems to slow down, taking in his features. 

His hair used to be longer and shaggier; you teased him for having a mop-head back then (lovingly). Now it’s half long, with shaved sides and a slight mullet. He wore a simple white shirt, layered with a classic black blazer and matching dress pants. Several square box chains surrounded his neck, complimenting his silver hoop earrings and lip ring (when did he get that?). His accessories sparkle under the lights, almost blinding, as if he were a living filter. 

Damn. He’s only gotten more gorgeous. 

Jungkook quickly adjusts the microphone stand to his height, then presents a bunny-tooth grin. “Hello everyone! Sorry, I’m late. I had forgotten my script.” He shakes the index cards in his hands gently, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. “It’s an honor being both Hoseok and Yoongi’s best man.”

Jung Hoseok was your old classmate, who used to be the alpha of the werewolf pack senior year. But then along came Jungkook, who stole the title from beneath him after challenging him to a duel. Funny how he is now his best man. 

Min Yoongi was the one who invited you, a research assistant at your university. If you had to describe him in a phrase, it’d be: “Actions speak louder than words.” You knew his intentions when he sent the invitation, so you had to come and support him the same way he’s done for you. 

Jungkook peers down at his script before placing a hand on the microphone. 

“I’ve known Yoongi and Hoseok for years now and their love is truly special. They’re often private with their affection, but we know how they would go out of their way for each other. My favorite part is whenever Hoseok compliments Yoongi, he’d—”

“AaarrghhH!!!” The obnoxious scream is from Yoongi himself, who had stood up and faced away from the crowd. People crack up at his hilarity, including Hoseok who is clapping his hands like a seal. 

“Yes. That. Exactly that,” Jungkook says, followed by a soft chuckle. “The two play off each other well. Hoseok brings joy to everyone and it’s infectious. I’ve never seen Yoongi happier than when he’s with Hoseok.”

Yoongi rubs the nape of his neck, a shy smile gracing his features as he sits back down. Hoseok places his head on his partner’s shoulders, sighing in content. Jungkook flips to the next index card and clears his throat.

“Yoongi and Hoseok are people I like from the bottom of my heart. They’re like family, and I’m so glad to be a part of their story. We were able to come to where we are right now because everybody was all together.” His lips tremble slightly as he holds the corners of the card with both hands, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. His head hangs low for a moment but then he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

You almost shout it’s okay! but nothing comes out. Fortunately, a couple of folks blurt out comforting words that make him laugh as he quickly wipes his tears away. He rolls his shoulders back and blows a small raspberry with his lips to reset. 

“These two have both helped me through so much. When I almost lost my life. When I lost my friends. When I wanted to give up on myself,” His eyes scanned across the venue as if simulating eye contact with each guest. “And especially when I experienced the biggest absence of my life with…”

His words are cut short at the same time your breath hitches. It’s a split second, but you’re sure. You’re sure his gaze fell on you, his expression stiffening slightly while you let out a silent gasp. The world seems to be at a standstill until he crumples the cards in his hand and tosses them aside. He lets out a half-hearted laugh, gesturing to the large projector screen he prepared earlier. 

“Enough about me!” he exclaims. “I made a compilation of the couple’s best moments. Enjoy!”

You don’t pay attention to the video playing despite the roaring laughter from the crowd. Someone shouts something about the couple wearing colorful animal sheet masks, but your eyes are glued to Jungkook. He exits the stage, heading back to his group of friends at the table furthest from yours. They give him a pat on the back and he’s back to smiling as if nothing happened. 

Was it your imagination? Maybe he wasn’t looking at you. You finish your champagne in one gulp, slamming the glass down without meaning to. The sharp sting in your palm makes you realize your actions as you groan, the deep cut across your hand oozing blood. 

“[Y/N], are you okay? Oh my gosh, here.” Lia is quick to grab the cloth napkin, wrapping it around your hand and tying a knot. 

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll heal anyway.”

“Still, how did this even happen? What’s got you so tense?”

You say nothing, but she follows your line of sight and purses her lips. “Are you looking at the wolves? Is it Jungkook?”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m gonna go to the restroom and wash the blood off.”

Before she can interrogate you further, you make a break for it. It was difficult walking in your nude heels, each step feeling like you were sinking deeper into the grass. The fairy lights help you see in the dark as you pass by the greenery of the garden, the flowers being your favorite part. You’d stop to smell them but didn’t want the blood to stain their lovely petals. Your feet finally reach a cobblestone path and you see the restroom building up ahead. 

There’s a handwashing sink outside. Once you turn on the faucet, you unwrap the cloth around your hand and wash the excess blood away. The cut had partially healed already — another perk of hybrid blood — but it still felt nice.

You find yourself lost in thought as the cool water flows onto your hands. You tell yourself there’s no way Jungkook was looking at you. He doesn’t even know you. At least, not in the way he used to. 

“I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely.”

Ah. Right. You’ve been reduced to a mere stranger now. The depressing reality makes you sigh as you turn off the water. 

That’s when you hear it. Footsteps. Heavy ones that grow louder from behind you. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn around.

Jungkook is approaching you, his stride long and confident. Your brain must have been rewired to put him in slow motion because he’s like a model walking down a runway. You can’t believe your eyes and are torn between running away or staying put. He’s closer now. Your heart skips a beat, the anticipation crushing you. Stay put it is.

“If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me.”

Yet here he is. Approaching you. Had the compulsion not worked on him? Did he remember you all this time? Well, your answer comes when he walks right by you without sparing a glance as he enters the men’s restroom. You blink a few times, stunned by what took place.

Well, that proves it; the compulsion was still effective. You look at the bloody napkin in your hand, clutching it tightly. 

“What, is he blind? He didn’t even ask if I was okay. This is a huge red flag, literally!” You wave the fabric around like a crazed woman, having half a mind to chuck it across the building. After sulking for a minute, you compose yourself and prepare to head back.

That’s when an unpleasant smell creeps its way into your nose. It’s harsh, like the smell of acetone and burnt wood, and you cough uncontrollably. The acrid fumes are suffocating as you wander around the restrooms for the smell. 

“It’s coming from the men’s side…” you mumble to yourself. 

“When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.”

Ignore it. It’s not your business. Yet your feet are already stomping inside, where your ex jolts in alarm at your sudden presence. 

“Hey, just because you’re a hybrid doesn’t mean smoking is okay!” The cigarette dangles from his mouth when his lips part in a small “o” shape, seconds from falling. You swipe it from him, drop it on the ground, and crush it under your heel. His doe eyes are larger than before, but your actions render him speechless. “It’s a gross habit and causes bad breath. So… yeah. Don’t smoke. Even if you’re practically immortal it’s not good for you.”

You spin around and close your eyes, cringing at your meddlesome behavior. You should leave before things escalate. 

“Are you okay?” Your eyes flutter open. He must think you’re deranged! “Your hand… is that blood?”

You look down, noticing the cloth in your hand was no longer white, but a deep crimson that seemed to permeate nonstop. 

“Oh, this is nothing. It’ll heal soon.”

He circles and gets in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I take a look?”

Whatever compels you to give your hand to him is a mystery, but you do it. He removes the cloth first, then inspects your palm, concern etched in his features. Blood continues to ooze out of the gash, but all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand enveloping your cold one. It reminds you of holding a hot cup of coffee in the morning except in this case, your cortisol levels are spiking. 

“It’s not good for you, you know,” he says with a soft smile. He directs his gaze from his hand to your own. “Getting cuts on such pretty hands. Who did this to you?”

If you had a brain, you didn’t anymore. You feel it short-circuiting, the hints of protectiveness in his voice setting sirens off in your mind. “No one… I accidentally broke a glass.”

It comes out as a whisper, but he acknowledges your response with a gentle “hmm.”

“This won’t do. It’s not healing fast enough,” His eyes shift up to meet your own. “You’re practically dripping in my hand.”

How can he say such things to you with such a straight face? The double entendre is blatant, but calling him out for it would only expose your impure thoughts.

“Shall I clean you up?” You don’t miss how he says “you” and not “it.” His irises glow a ruby red, matching his blood-shot sclera. Protruding veins appear under his eyes as he opens his mouth wide enough to exhibit his sharp fangs. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight.

“That’s okay, you don’t—you don’t have to.” 

“Maybe I want to. Besides… I was smoking to curb my cravings. You took that away, so I need something else to satisfy me.”

You gulp. “And you think my blood will do that?”

He flashes you a smirk. “I’d like to find out. If you’ll let me.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember. Right? 

You agree with a soft “okay” and Jungkook doesn’t hold back. He sticks his tongue out, licking up the blood that overflowed onto his thumb first before following the stream up to your palm. He presses his lips onto the gash and sucks, earning a small gasp from you. This catches his attention, and he stares at you. His pupils are dilated, the primal look in his gaze so enrapturing. 

The pit of your stomach is on fire as he continues feeding from the palm of your hand. His tongue comes out to play, swiping back and forth, leaving no spot untouched. It tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle. 

Then he moans. It’s low at first, but then he closes his eyes and does it again. This time it’s more guttural, and he presses harder against you like he was starved.

“Ow,” you say, wincing when his fangs pierce your skin. It coaxes more blood to come out, and he visibly shudders.

“Sorry, I—Fuck,” His breath is uneven as he pants, drunk on your taste. He furrowed his eyebrows like he was mad, fighting against his primal urges to devour you whole. “I’ll be more careful. Please let me finish, please.”

Oh my god. He’s begging you. It’s too adorable to resist. He opens his eyes when you don’t reply, and you quickly give him your consent. His technique, if you can even call it that, grows sloppy as he rushes to clean up the mess he made. It’s like he was embarrassed, which makes your heart grow fonder. 

Once he finishes, his lips come together and make a loud smooching sound. He kisses the spot once again, lovingly, and then pulls away. You’re shocked to see the cut is no longer there. 

“Delicious. Sweet, with a hint of spice.”

You’re flattered by the handsome blood sommelier but retract your hand, hiding it behind your back while clearing your throat. 

“Um… Thank you.” That sounded more lame out loud than in your head, but nothing else seemed appropriate. 

Jungkook rubs the excess blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. “It was my pleasure.” He sucks it and then releases his thumb with a loud pop.

Discomfort washes over you with how quiet the restroom gets, but you don’t break the silence. Instead, you turn around and head for the exit. 

“You’re [Y/N], right?” Three steps. That’s how far you got. “We were in the same year together.”

You grab onto the chain of your purse again. “Yeah. We were.”

And you leave it at that. 

You walk around to ease the buried feelings threatening to bubble up to the surface. Aside from the reception in the garden, the rest of the campus is quiet. Not a single light is on from the buildings you pass, your heels following the moonlight instead.

You pass the library, the gym, and the fine arts hall, but your steps halt at the girls’ dormitory. Memories flood your mind one by one: decorating your room, staying up late studying for exams, and the time when Jungkook slept over and—no. Shit. Don’t think about a love that’s lost. 

A weighted sigh comes as you sit on the steps, giving your feet a much-deserved break. You hug your knees, tuck your head down, and rest it in your folded arms as if you wanted to hide from the world. Why the hell did you think coming here would be easy?

His touch lingers in your mind as you replay the moment. The way he held your hand, the way he was concerned for your well-being, and the way he fed off your blood was far more intimate than you expected. Then he said your name.

It ignited a yearning you thought you had suppressed.

“I should leave…” you say out loud to no one in particular. 

“And miss the group picture?”

You lift your head slowly like you were caught red-handed committing a heinous crime. You’re greeted by pointed black dress shoes, black dress pants, a white shirt and black blazer, silver necklaces, and soft doe eyes that could melt anyone’s heart. 

“Jungkook…”

His eyes light up, a tinge of rouge dancing across his cheeks as he slips his hands into his pockets. “So you do remember me.”

How could I ever forget? “Well yeah… we were in the same year together.”

He scrunches his nose, amused at your usage of his past words. “That’s it? We were sparring partners, we went on missions together, and I’m pretty sure you saved my life by turning me into a hybrid,” Your jaw falls to the ground while his lips curve into a playful grin. “Ring a bell?”

The logistics of your compulsion weren’t specific as to how much Jungkook would remember. Then again, you didn’t erase his memory of your existence, so it’s natural he would remember some basic things. 

“Wow, you have a good memory. Um… yeah, I guess that covers the extent of our relationship.”

He quirks his eyebrow, sounding far too happy for your liking as he says, “We… have a relationship?”

You put your hands out in a stop motion and shake them in a panic. “No! Not at all. I–I meant that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Just old classmates.”

“I see. What a shame though. I feel like we would have… should have gotten to know each other more back then.”

His voice has a trace of longing, but you dismiss it for friendly conversation. “Really? I was too focused on my studies anyway. You wouldn’t have liked me.”

He nods. “Considering how you stomped out my cigarette? Yeah, probably not.”

You scoff, a playful glint in your eyes. “Excuse me for looking out for you.”

“Never asked you to, but I’ll admit, I enjoy the attention.” You both laugh and then he extends his hand out to you. “Come on. Let’s go take the group picture together.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m not fond of pictures. Yoongi and Hobi don’t even know I’m here, so it’s not like they’ll notice.”

“I’ll notice,” You stare at him, watching his smile fade and how serious his demeanor becomes. “Your absence is significant, especially to those who care about you. They’ll remember it for the rest of their lives.”

You are about to speak when he adds, “Besides, the formation is off and we need one more person to fill in the gap.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his hand away and stand. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go.”

He smiles, puts his hands back in his pockets, and leads the way back. You follow him to the garden where guests are lined up in neat, staggered rows. Most of them have their arms crossed, some tapping their feet anxiously, while the rest have their hands on their hips. Even the main couple in the front row are mouthing words you can’t hear, but the way Yoongi slaps a hand to his forehead makes you aware of his distress.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts with a jump, pointing his finger in your direction. “They’re here!”

Everyone expresses their relief with a “thank goodness” or “about time” as you and Jungkook make your way over. 

“You found her!” Namjoon says, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jungkook walks by too fast to notice, so you high-five him to ease his embarrassment.

“Wow, is that [Y/N]? You look incredible.” The man next to Namjoon gives you two thumbs up and you smile at the compliment. 

“Jin…” You can’t help but hug him tight and he reciprocates. Kim Seokjin aka Jin was the head witch on campus and counselor. You’ve confided in him for years and seeing him again almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Yoongi pats Jin’s back, a signal to release his hold on you. You laugh and then embrace him next, earning an obnoxious groan, but the fond smile on his face shows his true emotions. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me.”

You stop hugging him to see Hoseok with his arms out already, his heart-shaped grin wide.

“Come here~,” You let out an “oof” sound from how tight he squeezes you. “We had no idea you were here! Jungkook convinced the cameraman to wait until he found you.”

You let him go and look over to Jungkook, who clears his throat as he looks off to the side. The apples of his cheeks are rosy, which you find endearing. 

“Here, stand in the front row next to me,” Hoseok says, gesturing to the spot between him and Jungkook. Jungkook takes a large step to the right, allowing enough space for you to squeeze in.

“Alright, now that we finally have everyone here…” the cameraman says out loud, throwing a harsh glare in your direction. You give him a sheepish grin in return. “Everyone needs to scoot over to my left please.”

The crowd obeys, but the cameraman’s displeased frown remains. “Now everyone needs to squeeze closer together.”

There’s some shuffling and you bump into Hoseok after Jungkook’s shoulder bumps into yours. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You tell him it’s okay.

The cameraman crosses his arms. “Come on, you guys. Act like you like each other! Closer!”

Everyone scooches in again, but Jungkook’s hand brushes against yours. The touch is electrifying, and you forget how to breathe. You can’t process your emotions as the cameraman orders the guests on your side to turn their bodies inwards at an angle. Jungkook exhales and his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You feel your palms start to sweat. 

“Three, two, one, smile!” You put on your most picture-perfect smile, the flash nearly blinding you. “One more! This time do a silly pose!”

You observe what others choose for their pose. Bunny ears are common, heart poses are also popular whether using arms or hands. Some stick their tongues out while others fake a dramatic gasp. You shift in your position when your heels betray you and you stumble backward.

As if on cue, a pair of arms catch you and you’re dipped like you’re in a dance class with Jungkook’s face peering down at you. His sweet cologne wafts into your nostrils, a nice blend of amber and rose. These moments only happen in movies — or so you think — yet he’s a fantasy that somehow becomes your reality. 

The camera shutters and captures your deer-in-the-headlights expression and Jungkook’s, who mirrors after you. It makes the cameraman let out a hearty laugh, and he’s not sure who the real married couple is.

“Are you okay?”

You nod and he helps you regain stability. Your hand touches your face, feeling the heat radiating off your cheek. The cameraman dismisses everyone and your friends jump at the opportunity to hound you with questions. 

Hoseok’s eager to go first. “Whatcha been up to, [Y/N]? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“Just traveling, not much,” you reply, forcing the muscles in your mouth to cooperate into a believable smile. 

“Hey, that’s her business. Don’t be nosy,” Namjoon interjects. Yoongi and Jin give each other a knowing look.

“You’re just saying that because she communicates with you the most,” Jin teases. 

“I mean, I was her mentor… can’t help it if I’m her favorite.” He pats his puffed-out chest twice, proud as he winks at you. You giggle and Yoongi joins in the conversation.

“Okay, if anyone’s her favorite, it’s actually me. But anyway,” he tilts his head towards the bar, “help yourself to a drink.”

“Ooh, I will. Do you have any recommendations?” you ask. 

“Do you want something strong? Fruity?”

“Get her what Jungkook got,” Namjoon says. Jungkook stands off to the side, his jaw clenches at his name being mentioned. “You like peach-flavored things, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Because he told me…” He notices the group shooting glares at him like daggers. It reminds you of when an idol spoils their next comeback by accident. “... Told me it was delicious and that anyone would like it. It goes down smoothly. Very yummy. Hah. Hahaha! Is that a saxophone?”

He leaves the group in a hurry with Jin chasing after him yelling, “No! Leave the sax alone! I’m not paying for damages!”

Awkward glances are exchanged between Hoseok and Yoongi, a silent two-player game of telepathy you weren’t a part of. You can’t compel Hoseok, but Yoongi’s human. One look and you’d know what he was thinking, but that’d be highly inappropriate to do that to the groom at his wedding. 

“I’ll order my own,” you tell the couple and they wave goodbye. Jungkook’s already retreated to his friends, much to your relief. 

Once you’re at the outdoor bar, your mood lifts upon seeing the bartender. She puts down the glass she was drying and rests her hands on the countertop.

“Well if it isn’t the original hybrid queen herself.”

The bartender is young, her oval face and sharp jawline giving her a cute, handsome aura. Her hair is short, about shoulder-length, and straight. Her eyes are large, emphasized by her dramatic makeup to draw you in until you’re lost in them. 

“Hi, Ryujin. Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She had a white shirt underneath her black vest; you think it suits her tom-boyish charms well.

“Since vampire ability class, I know. What can I get you, beautiful?”

The smirk she sends you has your nerves sparking, and the palms of your hands sweaty. It was different when a girl complimented you. It felt more believable, flattering even. 

You shrug in response to maintain a calm demeanor. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe something fruity? Citrusy?”

She nods, grabbing a shaker and a bottle of liquor under the counter straight away. You watch as she juggles the two items in the air, covering your mouth at the thought of gravity ruining her trick. However, she caught them both with ease, moving at such a fast speed as she concocted your beverage. It’s an elegant performance, her movements fluid like it’s an art. She finishes by topping off your glass with an orange slice.

“Here you go,” She slides the glittery pink drink over, and you take a sip, allowing the fruity taste to coat your tongue. “Matches your dress.”

You smile at the thoughtful gesture. “It’s good. Tastes like peaches and grapefruit. What’s it called?”

“It’s something I came up with. I wouldn’t mind sharing the recipe with you after the event’s over.”

You don’t miss the flirty tone in her words and can only laugh. She was so refreshing and has always stuck up for you in the past when others called you stuck-up for being a hybrid. Who knew she would end up flirting with you at a wedding years later?

“So? What do you say?” she asks, her eyes brimming with hope. You take another drink and finish the whole thing despite your shaky hands. She gives you a fond smile. “If I’m being too forward, tell me.”

“No, I’m just nervous,” you blurt out, setting the glass down. “You’re really pretty.”

“Is that so?”

You’re about to respond when you feel your temperature rise. You clasp a hand to your forehead, which goes from warm to scalding in seconds. Sweat beads form around your temples as your breathing becomes harsher. You rest your elbow on the counter to keep yourself balanced, but your legs are burning too. It was like someone lit a torch from beneath you, cooking your flesh inside out. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Ryujin asks. You shake your head and your vision blurs, the lights behind her looking like a bokeh image. She hands a bottle of water to you, and you gulp it down, yet the fever persists and you feel worse. 

Ryujin sees your eyes widen in alarm as you peer down at your dress. She inspects it too, but doesn’t see anything abnormal. You rub your thighs together. 

“Fuck… I think I’m in heat,” you tell her. Your hand rummages through your purse and then you curse again, frustrated. “I’m out of suppressants!”

Ryujin snaps her fingers when a lightbulb goes off in her head. “Ask Lia.”

“Good idea.”

You blink to wet your eyes, regaining clarity of your surroundings before heading to Lia on the dance floor. She was all smiles with a guy until you bumped into her, your darn heels being the bane of your existence.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you quickly say, “I need your help.”

She takes one look, excuses herself, and brings you to a quieter space. Her hand reaches into her clutch and pulls out a lace handkerchief, dabbing the sweat off your forehead. Her touch is gentle and she asks quietly, “Are you in heat?”

Lia and Ryujin were best friends. Your sole encounters with her were because of Ryujin by extension, but even back then, you knew she was sweet. Wolves often looked down upon her because of her doll-like, docile appearance. However, she had enough balls to find friends in other cliques and was, what people say, a girl’s girl. 

“Yes, I feel like I’m dying. Ryujin told me to ask if you have suppressants.”

“I don’t. Do you not track your cycle?”

“I’m a hybrid! It’s random for me!” 

She grimaces, the pity in her eyes inevitable. “I’m sorry, I forgot. But you need to get out of here. Do you know how many horny young wolves are here with zero self-restraint?”

You shift your weight and a pool of discharge releases in your panties, the sticky sensation making you cringe. Lia brings out a travel-sized perfume spray and spritzes your entire body. A wheeze is forced out of you from the potent floral scent, but at least it will cover your pheromones long enough for a distraction.

“Hey everyone! The fireworks are starting soon, let’s go to the front of the school and watch!” Hoseok has his hands cupped around his mouth to carry his voice through the venue, catching the attention of all guests. Lia holds both your hands, looking you dead in the eye with a straight face.

“There. Use this time to find suppressants or get out of here. The perfume won’t last very long.”

“Thanks, Lia, I will.” 

While the crowd heads towards the front, you rush back to the restroom building. You’re a panting mess once inside, but you go into a stall, shut it, and pull down your undergarment. The fabric is soaked in slick and has a hefty weight—you have no choice but to discard it.

Grabbing toilet paper, you clean yourself up as best as you can. Then you step out, wash your hands, and exit the building.

“Hey there.” You almost topple backward from the sudden intrusion. Three guys are in front of you, all wearing the same, smug grin. They’re young, probably younger than you, but one thing’s for sure—they’re werewolves. 

There’s a particular scent that emits from wolves. It’s earthy, like a pine tree, and you’d usually find it comforting but now? Fear crawls up your spine like a spider has latched onto you, its legs creeping up your back in a spot you can’t smack away.

The one in the middle had greeted you first. He has a youthful face, and sculpted cheekbones, which are easy on the eyes. Speaking of, that was his most striking feature. They are almost cat-like (ironically) with how wide and long they are. 

“Are you lost? Everyone’s watching the fireworks,” he says, his thumb hiked over his shoulder. You don’t respond. “Ah, I’m Yeonjun. This is Beomgyu and that’s Soobin.”

Soobin is the tallest. He shows off his dimple smile upon being introduced, which seems pure, but the way his irises shifted to goldenrod says otherwise. Beomgyu, on the other hand, had the most innocent baby face you’ve ever seen. However, you don’t miss the way he licks his lips while giving you a once-over.

“I’m [Y/N]...” You don’t know why you give them your name, but it slips out. Maybe you hoped playing along would lead them to spare you. 

“Oh!” Soobin says, his index finger pointing up at the discovery. “You’re the original hybrid the professors rave about!”

“Half-vampire, half-werewolf, right?” Beomgyu asks. Your double moon necklace glows as you form your fingers into a claw shape behind your back. A small flame ignites and you hold it there, waiting for the right opportunity. 

“Yeah. I guess,” you say. “Why don’t you boys go watch the fireworks? I’ll catch up.”

“Nonsense! As gentlemen, we should escort you. Unless… you’d rather do something else. Here. Now.” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, but you scowl in response. 

“No thanks.”

Soobin takes a step forward. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

Beomgyu takes two. “I’m sure the three of us can be of use to you.”

It’s not until Yeonjun approaches you that you cower, stepping backward until you’re stopped by the water fountains. “No need to be shy. No one’s around.”

Your blood is boiling, though you’re not sure if it’s from your heat or rage. What’s worse is you’re not mad at them; you’re mad at yourself. Their words spurred you on as arousal drips down your thighs, a sign of your body’s betrayal. You fear if this escalates, they’ll figure out you’re not wearing anything underneath. 

“Get. Back.” You reveal the burning flame in your palm, the heat emanating off of it close enough to Yeonjun’s face. He jumps back and places a hand on his chest.

“Whoa! She’s feisty. Or should I say… fiery.”

“Maybe we should head back. She can do magic. I thought hybrids don’t know magic,” Soobin whispers. Yeonjun laughs at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving his friend for his cowardice as Beomgyu inspects him for injuries. 

“Doesn’t matter. Look at her state now.” He points in your direction, seeing how you’re barely able to stand. Your breaths are quick, shallow and your heart is thumping around like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage. The fire in your hand diminishes to a mere flicker, and then it’s out. You try to bring it back with the flick of a wrist, but all that emits are tiny sparks. Shit. I haven’t been practicing long enough.

Your womanhood is craving something, anything to alleviate the agony. It’s screaming for release, and you hold your abdomen as a sudden cramp pains you horribly. Human females experience this type of thing monthly and you have to hand it to them. This type of pain requires endurance and fucking sucks. 

You fall onto all fours, clutching your heart which is seconds away from bursting. It’s beating so loud, you can’t even hear the vulgar things the youngins are saying as they rush over. Soobin grabs your right arm; Yeonjun has the other.

You thrash in their clutches, but they only mock you with their boisterous laughter as they force you to your feet.

“Hey, hey! We’re just trying to help,” Soobin says. 

“Unless you’d rather be on all fours,” Yeonjun teases. Beomgyu bends down to your eye level, a crooked smile on his dainty face, the true embodiment of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 “You’re pure temptation, you know that?” He leans close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Give up. Don’t put up a fight.”

“I don’t consent,” you say, a harsh bite in your words.

Soobin squeezes your arm, almost crushing it in his large hands. “Why? Is it because we’re young?”

“It’s clear you’re horny… we are too. Come on,” Beomgyu pleads. “We’ll take good care of you. Teach us what you like.”

“Yeah. And we’ll do the same.” Yeonjun holds your hand, inspecting it closely. “So soft. I bet your hand would feel so good around my—“

“Get your hands off her before I bite them off.”

Dizziness overwhelms you, so all you see is a blurry figure behind Beomgyu, and you shake your head to come to your senses. Once the man’s face comes into focus, relief washes over you, sending signals for your brain to let down your guard. The energy you so desperately clung to has depleted, so you close your eyes as your limbs turn into jelly.

Five seconds pass and the boys’ hold on you is gone. Someone else catches you before you faint, his scent familiar and comforting. 

“I got you,” he says as he lets you lean against his body. 

“Jungkook…”

“Can you stand?” You don’t know but nod anyway. “Good. Get behind me. You don’t want to see this.”

His broad back shields you from the three wolves, so you don’t even see the damage he inflicted upon them. Yeonjun was thrown into a tree a hundred feet away, the impact so potent that it split in half. Soobin and Beomgyu were fortunate not to collide into anything after being catapulted… except for each other. 

Soobin lands on top of Beomgyu and the smaller boy groans, pushing him off in a huff. He stands first and helps Soobin after. 

“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong!” Yeonjun shouts as he scrambles to his feet, flaring his nostrils. “You and I both know she’s a bitch in heat!” 

You cling onto Jungkook’s blazer, and he looks over his shoulder.

“Is he right?” You don’t know if he asks to be polite because even you can smell your essence leaking. You hide your face in his back, flustered, but he feels you nod.

He redirects his attention back to the wolves. “That doesn’t give you the right to touch her. I suggest you leave before I make it physically impossible.”

Soobin scoffs while Beomgyu rolls his eyes. Yeonjun’s fuse was already lit and Jungkook’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears. You hear him crack his knuckles, the silence that follows deafening as you hold your breath in anticipation.  

“It’s three against two. Well, three against one, really,” Soobin says, laughing like he’s already won. 

“All I see is three smooth-brained pups who are pissing me off.” Jungkook’s eyes shift to a fiery goldenrod, the corner of his lips twitching as he smirks. “You’re aware that [Y/N] isn’t the only hybrid… right?”

You don’t see it, but their faces pale in comparison to earlier. Beomgyu covers his mouth, Soobin’s eyes widen, and Yeonjun growls. 

“There were rumors about more than one hybrid existing, but I didn’t think they were true,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone. 

“She turned him? Fuck, they’re bonded then,” Soobin says. Yeonjun waves him off in a dismissive manner. 

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s not marked. We can take them.”

Jungkook has his fists up and changes into a fighter stance, but he feels you press your forehead against his back. It’s a searing sensation that scorches him even through the two layers of fabric he had on. He turns around and holds you by the shoulders.

“Hey, stay with me,” he begs. Your head is lolling back and forth as if you were inebriated. 

“It’s so hot… I’m too hot… I hate this, I hate this. Please… I need to cool down,” you beg. Jungkook takes a peek at the time on his watch, then bites his lower lip.

“Okay,” he whispers. “When I count to three, I need you to hold your breath. Can you do that for me?”

You mumble something Jungkook believes is a “yes” based on the beginning /y/ sound. 

“Three… two…”— he looks up —“one!”

A firework shoots up into the night sky, painting it with an explosive rainbow of sparkles. You cover your sensitive ears, but make sure to hold your breath as Jungkook uses his enhanced speed to whisk you away. More fireworks go off, muffling your tracks and making the youngins work harder to find you. 

However, Jungkook’s skills are unmatched. He sprints to the side of the school where the mountains are, and they follow suit. At the last second, he pivots and heads to the secluded area on the opposite side, where the lake is. 

The last memory you had here was something you blocked out to spare your mental health. You had almost died. But now this place was going to save you, funny enough. If you think about it, the lake had more happy memories than bad. This was where Namjoon trained you before you trained Jungkook.

You can picture it now as if it was yesterday. He, a newly turned werewolf, scared of what’s to come in his new life, and you, the school prodigy who had a crush on him.

Jungkook jumps off the dock with you in his arms, the splash overshadowed by the firework’s detonation. The cool water refreshes your sweltering body as you close your eyes, submitting to it. For a moment you don’t care about anything. Not how your makeup is smeared, how your curls are undone, or how your dress is ruined.

You feel strong arms hold you close, and an overwhelming sense of longing hits you in the gut. God, you missed him so much. Even without his memories, he still cares for you. Hell, he went out of his way to protect you.

Just when your lungs are on the verge of giving out, you’re pulled up to the surface. Your eyes flutter open as you rub the water off your face. Jungkook coughs, then cups your face with both hands.

“Are you okay?”

You take in his appearance for what feels like an eternity. His brown eyes twinkle from the moonlight, so beautiful and full of worry. You find it amusing how his hair is stuck to his forehead, the strands partially obstructing his view. Your hand pushes it out of the way without thinking like muscle memory, causing his breath to hitch.

“Thanks to you.”

Fireworks are still going off in the distance, illuminating you two in the crystal-clear water. Jungkook slowly removes his hands from you.

“Good. I um… don’t hear them anymore. They must’ve left. And the water should keep your scent hidden for now.”

“That’s a relief.” Jungkook places the back of his hand against your forehead but retracts it quickly as if he touched a hot stove. 

“Ow, oh my god. You’re still burning up!”

How naive were you to think it’d be over? You’ve experienced this once before, but that was with your first ex, who was at your beck and call for sex whenever you needed it. You couldn’t ask that of Jungkook. Not after everything that’s happened.

“I’ll figure something out. You’ve done a lot for me already and your clothes are wet.”

“I don’t give a damn about my clothes. Tell me how I can help you.”

*BOOM*

A red heart-shaped firework went off as you two stared at each other. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his luscious lips and he doesn’t miss it. Maybe you don’t want him to.

“Why do you want to help me? We… We’re not that close.”

“Well… the thing is… I-I just…” He is so freakin’ cute. You might die from how endearing he is before your heat destroys you first. “Because.”

“Because?”

*BOOM*

“Because it’s finally just you and me.”

His answer is simple. There shouldn’t be any underlying connotations and yet, it reminds you of a past conversation. 

“We’re in this together. You and me. Okay?”

“Is it really you and me…”

“What do you mean?”

“Will it ever be? Just you and me?” 

“Now tell me what you need. Use me.”

Your pussy is throbbing so much that it’s agonizing. You just need a quick release, then you’ll be sane enough to go home without collapsing. 

“This feels…” So right, you think. “Wrong.”

His hands sneak around your waist. “Then let’s misbehave.”

He hoists you up onto the edge of the dock without warning as if you weigh nothing, and a grunt leaves his lips. It’s far too sexy to ignore, and your mind craves to hear it again. Then he places his hands on either side of your thighs and pulls himself up halfway out of the water, his face now directly in front of yours. 

“Tell me what you need. How can I please you?”

Fuck. You bite your lower lip when you realize the dock isn’t that tall—he’s at the perfect height to carry out the desires you’ve been suppressing. “I need to come…”

A water droplet falls off his button nose when he chuckles. “How do you want to come?”

You stare at his lips, which are thin yet plump at the same time, his lower lip being the bigger half. You think back to earlier when he sucked your palm. 

 “I want you to eat me out…”

He moves fast, almost like he knew what you’d say. His grip on the dock loosens, and he plops back into the lake but grabs your ankles, pulling you forward until your bottom is perched on the very edge. He spreads your thighs and rests his head between them, looking up at you like you were worth the entire universe. 

“Why don’t you lift your dress for me, gorgeous?”

You’re unsure what’s louder — the fireworks or your heart rate. If he keeps speaking to you in that low dialect, you may come right now. Your fingers bunch up the fabric at the hem and you slowly pull it up, exposing your pussy to his feasting eyes. 

“Fuck, what a beautiful pussy.”

You take two fingers and glide it up your folds, coating it in your slick. Jungkook watches, unsure of what you are going to do next. You lean forward, cupping his face with your other hand with a naughty glint in your eyes.

“Open.” He obliges, and you stick your coated fingers in his mouth. A muffled groan comes out as he sucks your fingers, his tongue swirling around so nothing goes to waste. “Good boy.”

You remove your fingers and he’s practically drooling, his eyes a bit crazed from your addictive taste.

“Please let me pleasure you, please.”

You don’t answer and run a hand through his damp hair, stopping at the back to grip it tight as you guide his head closer to where you need him most. He peers up at you adoringly when you hold him an inch away.

“Please me then.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue licks a stripe on your sopping cunt, earning a shudder from you. Your thighs squeeze his head like a reflex, which only spurs him on to press his mouth harder against you. He begins to lap up your juices like a dog and you throw your head back, moaning at how insanely good it felt. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer if possible, the tight hold giving him a tinge of pain that ignites his carnal desires. He slurps your pussy like it was his last meal on death row, slithering his arms underneath your knees and holding your thighs hostage. You don’t know which noise was most obscene—your moaning or Jungkook’s.

Sneaking your free hand down, you use your forefinger and middle finger to spread your pussy lips wider. Jungkook’s excited and sinks his tongue as deep as it would go. You’re impatient now, riding his face as he tongue-fucks you. 

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, yes—oh god…” You don’t have it in you to say anything more coherent except for broken moans. Jungkook pauses for a second, and you whine at the loss of contact. Then you’re being stretched out as his two fingers submerge into you, nearly knocking the breath out of you. 

You lean back on your forearms as he begins to piston them into you, your wetness making it easy—too easy even. They slip out when he speeds up, and he makes up for it by eating you out and sinking his fingers back in simultaneously. 

You’re shaking, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Your back rests on the wooden planks as Jungkook flicks your clit with his tongue, his fingers drilling into you at a brutal speed and brushing your sweet spot. 

You see the last of the fireworks show go off, a beautiful explosion of silver sparkles and stars, as your orgasm finally comes. You arch your back and scream, but Jungkook doesn’t slow down. He can feel how tight your walls are constricting around his fingers and knows you need a few more seconds of bliss to be fully satisfied. 

Overstimulation was always a gamble. If pushed too far, you’d be in pain. But most of the time you welcome it. One second you want the pleasure to stop building, but then you crave that ache of clenching so hard until your body gives out. 

Jungkook stops again. This time he pulls himself out of the water completely and hovers over your body. His fingers plunge into you again, his speed relentless, and you swear you’re seeing stars (or maybe that’s the fireworks who knows). Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you say his name like a mantra.

“Come for me, beautiful. I want you dripping in my hand again.”

Your eyes are wide when warm lips are pressed against your own. But you submit and savor it, having missed his touch. Combining that with the way he curls his fingers inside makes you squirt. Hard. 

Your entire body convulses and you can’t even scream because Jungkook is determined to swallow them. The limitation only makes you come harder than before. Then again, you’re not sure if this is a second orgasm or a drawn-out first one. 

The involuntary gushing is an indescribable sudden wave of pleasure. You feel so relieved from the release, pushed to tears at how good it felt. Jungkook pulls away a centimeter to let you breathe, and you submit to the foreign feeling.

Oh my god, he made me squirt. I didn’t even know that was possible. 

He pulls his soaked fingers out and resumes kissing you, moving his lips in rhythm to yours. It’s so natural, almost like he’s done this before. Well, he has, but it felt so right. So loving. So… intimate. 

You place a hand on his chest and give him a gentle push. He pulls back a little, a melancholy look passing his face. 

“Will you stay?”

You can’t. He’s not supposed to be tangled up with you again. You erased his love for you for a reason; it wasn’t the right time. Any decisions made till now were because of your heat and your brain was finally back in command. 

“I can’t.”

He caresses your cheek. “Why not?”

Because I’m not ready to love you the way you deserve. Because I love you so much that I’m afraid things will fall apart again. 

“Because we don’t know each other,” You push him off you and stand, trying not to slip. Jungkook’s hands were already in position to catch you if you did. “Not really.”

As you walk away, he says something so chilling that it crystalizes your blood into ice. “You’re running away again.” 

You refuse to turn around. “It’s my choice.”

“What about my choice and what I want? Do you not care?” He stands up and tightens his fists. “Are you leaving for good this time?”

This… time? He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

He watches as your figure grows smaller in the distance. His head hangs low and he fights back tears. You’ve made it clear what you want. He had to let you go.

A/N: I am currently writing part 2, don't worry! It's a long one, lol. This was also my first time writing in present tense. Loved it. I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for giving my writing a chance. 🥰

[nadvs]

home before dark (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You and Rafe haven’t said anything to each other since your kiss. After a moment of tense silence, he collected himself and you headed back to the party. He found his friends. You found yours.

It’s been over an hour, the sun now nestled below the horizon, and you keep catching his eye in the dark, crowded backyard. You remind yourself that his gaze is so persistently on you due to your arrangement. He’s looking out for you. That’s all.

But he didn’t have to kiss you. He could have opted for something less… intense. Because now your mind won’t stop repeating it and everything that lead up to it. Stoic, unattached, cold Rafe cried. Actually cried. And then he kissed you so gently that your head still feels like it’s spinning.

You look at him again from across the yard. He’s surrounded by the same guys he always hangs out with, but for once, you can see just how lonely he actually looks.

It hurts to think about how he considers you to be the only person who cares about him - you, a reminder of the worst thing that happened to him.

What about his friends? Or his family? Do they all neglect him, unwilling to see past his hard exterior?

When Rafe trails your car to your house after the party, it’s a few minutes past midnight and his body is already feeling the itch for more coke. It’s the best way to numb everything. But he can’t afford to. Not when he’s taking care of you. Not when you looked at him the way you did when you said he could quit.

You glance up every so often to see Rafe in the frame of your rearview mirror, his bike rumbling behind you, his headlight bright.

You reach your home, relieved to see that the mailbox is closed, and pull into the driveway.

After you both come through the front door, you arm the security system, then turn to face him.

“Do you want to take the guest bed?” you ask, having rehearsed it in the car. “Or just sleep in my room again?”

Rafe doesn’t make much eye contact with you. He’s still embarrassed.

“A distraction would be good,” he admits. He can’t fall asleep alone, sober, with nothing but his own mind replaying the humiliation of crying in front of you.

“So, boring you to sleep was a smart idea?” you ask with a small smile. Knowing you’re helping him, even in this silly little way, is gratifying considering how much he’s helping you.

Rafe huffs amusedly, tilting his head. You make your way up the stairs and he follows, chewing on his lip before he can say his next words. The guilt is killing him. Especially when you have nothing but patience and compassion for him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to…” He stops in the hallway, wanting to get this out before he gets ready for bed. “This morning… I shouldn’t have left like that.”

Rafe’s lids are low and he shuffles in place, like this is the first apology he’s ever given someone and he’s not sure if he’s doing it right.

The way he left your home was abrupt. His tone was harsh. But it was because you did the only thing you’re not supposed to do. You brought up the past. And you can’t blame him.

You decide to try to dismiss the tension between you.

“Couples fight,” you joke. “It’s okay.”

Rafe nods, his gaze still on the floor. You realize right behind him, up on the wall, hangs the photo of you and him and your mothers. His smile used to be so bright.

He steps towards the guest room and when he closes the door behind him, you take the photo off the wall and shove the frame in your dresser. You’ll do anything you can to protect him from any and every reminder.

When Rafe enters your dark bedroom, you nervously take a breath before you speak.

“You can just sleep up here again if you want,” you say. “The floor’s probably not that comfortable.”

“Sure,” he says, hoping he sounds indifferent even though he’s the farthest thing from it.

Kissing you was a thrill and just the thought of sleeping next to you makes his entire body feel like it’s on fire. Being close to you is like its own drug and he can’t get enough.

You smell minty toothpaste as Rafe settles next to you in bed. You stay on your side, faced away from him, as he lies on his back, resting a hand on his stomach.

“I’m trying to think of a boring story,” you say. You shake your head to yourself. “This is weird.”

“Weird?” he echoes, on edge that you’re regretting inviting him to sleep next to you.

“Yeah,” you admit. “My ex used to tell me that I talk too much. I’m still getting used to the idea that someone actually wants to hear me ramble.“

“He said that to you?” Rafe turns his head, looking at your silhouette in the dark.

You stare ahead, eyelids fluttering. It’s a hard subject, but you almost feel like you owe it to him. He was so vulnerable earlier tonight. You want to balance the scales.

“All the time,” you recall. The thought of that idiot berating you ignites rage in his core.

“It was like a power play or something,” you continue. “I think he liked to say things just to hurt me, then get me to forgive him. I… gave him too many chances. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to get me back.”

“You didn’t bring this on yourself,” Rafe says before even a second can pass.

You breathe out slowly. You know he’s right.

“Yeah,” you say. “I guess it’s easier to feel like I’m responsible in some way because then I’m not just a victim.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, a gap slowly opening.

“You didn’t do anything to deserve that.” The gap closes and your heart skips a beat. Rafe isn’t the type to say something just to say it. You know he really thinks that.

“Thank you.” You pick at a string on your duvet cover. Expecting him to open up is a losing game, but it’s one you can’t stop playing. “Have you been… in a relationship?”

You’ve never seen Rafe with a girl for longer than the duration of a party. But maybe he kept his commitments under wraps. He’s an expert at hiding from the world.

“No,” he says with a cynical chuckle. He’s hooked up loads of times. But a relationship? Not even close.

“Why not?” you ask. Despite his scary reputation, Rafe’s undeniably attractive. And some girls like the scary thing. Maybe you would if you didn’t know there was nothing to be scared of.

“Just haven’t,” Rafe answers. You stifle a sigh. It was a matter of time before he closed up again.

“So, um, I can talk about my day?” you offer. “You fell asleep to that last night. I’ll try not to be offended again.”

Rafe smirks at your joke and taps his fingers against his stomach. You never push him to talk. He appreciates it.

Brushing you off is a reflex. He doesn’t want it to be. You clearly spent more than enough time dealing with a jerk and he doesn’t need to be one to you, too. So, he decides to answer your question. Honestly, this time.

“I think it’s because I… just…” he begins, trying not to stammer, “I can’t stop how fast my thoughts are sometimes. I can’t control how mad I get. There’s no point in getting serious with a girl because the second she hears what my head sounds like, she’ll bail.”

The more you learn about who Rafe is today, the more it hurts. Does he think there’s nothing worth loving in him? That everyone will abandon him?

“The right girl won’t,” you say into the dark. “She’ll want to hear it all.” You hear Rafe chuckle in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically. His mind is a place of high highs and lower lows. He can hardly survive it himself. He couldn’t expect someone else to.

“It’s true.” You’d be that girl if he’d let you. But your very existence plagues him. You’ll never be that girl for him and he’ll never want you to be.

“I know people call me a psycho. They’re not far off,” he admits.

“You’re not that.” You don’t even want to say the word. “If you were, you would’ve laughed in my face when I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. But you didn’t. You’re here.”

You feel Rafe shift his weight. His back is to yours now.

“So, your day?” he says.

He’s done talking. And even though you’d like him to share his thoughts with you until sunrise, you’re relieved you actually got somewhere with him. Bit by bit, he’s baring his soul to you, and it’s just as gentle as you remember.

You tell Rafe about your time at the mall today, once again going into meaningless details just to make the story drag.

His heart is hammering in his ears as he lies in your bed, eyes shut, listening to you speak. He’s never admitted to anyone why he’s never wanted a girlfriend. Not even to his closest friends. If they ever asked, he’d say he wasn’t into commitment.

He can’t believe now that he said it out loud, it was to the one person he thought he’d spend the rest of his life avoiding.

Again, Rafe isn’t in bed when you wake up. You find him downstairs, waiting for you just like yesterday.

Before you lock the door behind him, he offers you a simple bye. It’s a reminder that even though he cried in front of you and kissed you and revealed why he won’t let anyone in, you’re still being kept at a distance.

It’ll be a hot day, so you make plans with friends to have lunch at the country club and spend the afternoon by the outdoor pool.

When you get to the pool deck and recline in a lounger, you notice a lot of other Kooks had the same idea today. Scattered along the poolside are groups of a lot of the people you see at parties, drinking and soaking in the scorching sun.

You’re instinctually looking for Rafe. When you spot him on the other side of the pool, sitting in a chair identical to yours, you immediately feel at ease.

It’s probably not a good idea to let your eyes linger on his toned, bare chest. But you do.

You wonder what these days will look like when all this is over and Ty stops pursuing you. Will you go back to seeing Rafe at rowdy parties and spontaneous events like these, hoping he’s okay, wishing you could talk to him but knowing he’ll treat you like a stranger?

You look away. Dwelling on this will only make you sad.

Later in the afternoon, you’re leaning back in your chair under the sun, beads of pool water sprinkled over your skin. You’ve been swimming with your friends most of the day, calm because Rafe is so close by.

Your eyes are closed as you relax in the sun. But then you hear his laugh. Ty’s laugh.

You stiffen immediately, sitting up straight, eyes darting around to match the nauseating sound to the face. Your heart is racing, playing back everything that’s happened in the past few days.

The creepy letter. The footsteps in front of your door. The way he mocked you on the beach, asking what you’ll do when Rafe’s not around to protect you.

“You okay?” your friend asks.

“Did you see...” you begin. You can’t waste another second. You don’t even grab your towel when you stand up.

You walk along the crowded pool, heading straight for Rafe.

When he sees you rushing over, your head frantically whirling to look behind you with every couple of steps you take, his body is injected with a blazing urgency.

Rafe swiftly rises from his seat, leaving his friends to watch him in confusion for leaving the conversation so suddenly.

He helps seal the distance between you and once you’re close enough, he takes your hand and leads you to the edge of the pool deck by an uninhabited rental booth.

You round the wall, earning privacy. Your bodies meet and you yield to him just like you did to your instincts, pressing your cheek against his chest and circling your arms around his torso.

Rafe hugs you back. Tightly. His skin is warm, not a drop of water on him, a sharp contrast to the clamminess clinging onto your skin and bathing suit.

“What happened?” he murmurs. He notices how fast your shoulders are skittering. You’re shaking against him.

“I thought I heard him,” you say. Now, thankfully, all you can hear are the thumps of Rafe’s heart over the roar of swarms of people swimming and sunbathing. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Rafe knows the feeling. He envelops you tighter. He hasn’t used his body to hold somebody like this… ever. He’s used to using it to inflict harm. To hurt. So why does this feel so natural?

“Do you want me to see if he’s here or do you want me to stay?” he asks.

“Stay,” you reply. You always wanted him to stay. His big arms remain wrapped around you, chipping away at the fear you rushed over here with.

Your bodies are curved into each other, his warmth radiating off of him. Rafe hasn’t left the poolside all day. He couldn’t risk a distraction. He needed to be there in case something happened to you. And something did.

And feeling you settle in his arms, the way your trembles start to disappear and your breath grows deeper, is worth it. He’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything.

Eventually, once your stress has become much more bearable, you pull back. Rafe’s hard blue eyes sweep over your face.

“I won’t let him near you, alright?” he says. His hands drag up to your face, palms pressed at your cheeks. You nod with wide, doleful eyes.

You exist in this moment together, like you did in your bed after your nightmare, like you did when you were alone on the beach last night, touching even though there’s nobody around to fool.

Then, Rafe pulls his hands off of you and once again, tension wedges its way between you. He steps back. So do you.

“Do you want to sit with me for a while?” he says gruffly, his stare on the ground now.

“Just you?” you ask. The hope in your voice floods him with sadness. Does the thought of being with his friends upset you that much?

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Yeah,” you echo.

Your bare arms are an inch from touching as you sit together on the shallow edge of the pool, your legs dangling over in the water.

“I don’t even want to look if he’s here,” you confess, looking down at your thighs pressed against the concrete next to Rafe’s.

“I will,” he says. You see him look up from the corner of your eye. After a moment, he shakes his head. “He’s not.”

“Okay,” you breathe. It’s odd that Ty hasn’t been around. Maybe Rafe really did scare him off for good. “Thanks.”

You’d been in this pool as kids a few times. Not nearly as much as you were on the beach behind his house, but a few summer days, Rafe’s mom would bring you and her children here.

He was always protective of his sisters. You remember his boyish voice calling for his mom whenever Sarah started wading towards the deep end. Now, any time you see him with his sister, they’re snapping at each other.

Again, your mind spirals to who Rafe would be if he never suffered such a terrible loss. He’d probably be close to his siblings, instead of pushing everyone away.

You glance at him, taking in his blue eyes and freckled skin in the sun, and try to smile. But you can’t. A piece of your heart will always be missing because of what happened to him.

When you join your friends, the bright mood you arrived at the club with is gone.

You take a long, hot shower as soon as you’re home, deciding you’ll have a night in tonight. The day was too heavy to try to have any fun.

It’s nearly ten when you settle in front of the tv under a blanket. Just so Rafe doesn’t worry about you not showing up at your mutual friend’s party, you text him: i’m staying in tonight. don’t worry if you get here late. just call me and i’ll let you in.

He calls you within a minute.

“Hello?”

“Did something happen?” Rafe asks. He doesn’t have to be specific - he’s asking if Ty found a way to scare you again.

“No, I’m… just not in a partying mood,” you respond.

“Are you alone?”

You curl up under your blanket, hooking an arm around your legs.

“Yes.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he asks, “Do you want to be?”

“No,” you admit.

You remotely open the gate when Rafe arrives minutes later, watching him come up the driveway on his motorcycle through the window.

When he settles on the other end of the couch in your living room, he snorts a laugh.

“Really?” he asks once he sees what’s on the screen.

“Be nice,” you quip. “It’s my comfort film.”

“Still?”

Your heart is in your throat. He remembers. You made him watch it with you once, years ago. You both talked through most of it.

“That’s the thing about comfort films, Rafe,” you reply. “They don’t change.”

He stretches his arms along the armrest and back of the couch, taking up all the space he wants to. He grew up to be so tall and big and powerful.

“Defensive,” he responds. You roll your eyes and smile.

As the movie continues, Rafe watches you and the only word he could use to describe how you look curled up on the couch is cute. His body reacted to your kiss, to the way your curves felt when you pressed up against him in that hug, because of course it did, but it’s more than that.

You’re pretty to him in the most innocent way and it’s like he’s a boy again, confused about how he could be so nervous around someone yet still want to be with them nonstop.

This is getting harder. He’s growing attached and he knows he shouldn’t for both of your sakes. Because you can both try to pretend you don’t have a history, but you do. It follows you around. You can’t outrun it.

“I can find something else to watch if you want,” you say. He tears his eyes off of you before you catch him staring.

“It’s fine,” he says. You nod and let yourself enjoy his company, even though it’s fleeting.

You sit up suddenly when you realize you dozed off. Your eyes find Rafe, who’s smirking at you.

“How long was I out?” you ask.

“How good can a movie be if you fall asleep?” he teases. You playfully nudge his knee with your foot. “Like, ten minutes. Not long.”

“I’m more tired than I thought,” you say.

“Probably from staying up late to talk,” Rafe replies.

“The price I pay for a bodyguard,” you say with a laugh. You rub your eyes. “Are you ready for bed?”

The casual way you ask the question in your fatigue almost makes him dizzy. It makes you sound like you’re a real couple.

Rafe trails you up the stairs and before he turns to change into his pajamas in the guest room, the gap in the wall of photos is glaringly obvious. You removed the framed picture of his mother.

“You took it down,” he says without thinking. He feels the comedown hitting him. Another low his mind is racing through.

The hallway is dim and you’re staring at his back now. You twist your hands together, jittery, like you’re about to take a test and saying one wrong thing will fail you.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “You don’t like reminders, right?”

Rafe’s body feels like it weighs a million pounds. He’s stuck. Heavy.

“Is that…” He shakes his head to himself. “Is that bad?”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” he says. It’s like pulling teeth, giving a voice to the thoughts that he’s always running away from.

“Not wanting reminders isn’t bad,” you say behind him. “If that’s what you mean.”

You feel like you’ve been wrung out. You’re a reminder. You step towards him, even though he’s facing away from you. You can’t help but want to touch him again.

When Rafe feels your hand cup his, he lets out a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t be trying to forget her,” he says. Fuck. Now that he’s started talking, it’s like he can’t stop. Why can’t he stop?

Your mind swirls as if you’re in a dream. He’s actually talking about his mom. You continue to stare at his back.

“I don’t think you are,” you whisper.

“How would you know?” he mutters sharply.

It’s a defence mechanism. You can tell. He’s trying to push you away. You won’t let him.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say. “But I think what you’re really trying to forget is how bad it hurts. Am I right?”

Rafe’s chest rises and falls with rough, shallow jolts. His heart pounds. His eyes wander over the space where the photo was.

“The last time I…” He’s unable to stop his rushed words. “The last time I had a chance to tell her, I didn’t. I just… I didn’t.”

“Tell her what?”

“That I loved her.”

Your throat goes dry.

“She knew,” you say. You grip his hand tighter. “Of course she knew.”

“She said it and I - I just didn’t say it back,” he stammers. “We hit the wall so hard and she - I know now that she knew she wasn’t going to make it. That’s why she told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back.”

Your heart thrashes against your ribs and your stomach turns with agony.

“Oh, my God. Were you…” you whisper. “Rafe, were you in the car?”

His eyes squeeze shut. He can still hear his mother asking are you okay? He answered yes and she said thank God, I love you and then he saw the way she was slumped over the steering wheel from where he sat in the backseat and he couldn’t speak from fear and he stopped believing in a God the second he heard her take her last breath.

That’s when he found his voice. He started screaming for her to wake up. She never did. It birthed a burning, merciless anger deep inside him that controls him to this day.

The last thing his mother did was make sure he knew he was loved. And he didn’t say it back.

“I didn’t know,” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You heard very little about the accident. It was stormy. She hit a freeway barrier. She died before the ambulance arrived. Nobody ever went into any more detail and you didn’t want them to.

There’s a gaping hole in your chest. Rafe was there when she died. He was with her. You always wondered where he was when he learned she passed away. How he was told the horrifying news.

But nobody had to tell him. Your best friend watched his world end right in front of him, leaving him with pain he has been running from since.

He wriggles out of your grip. Speaking to you is making him live through it again. And if he keeps talking, he’ll say something he regrets.

“I’ll sleep on my own tonight,” he says, voice thin. You watch him disappear into the guest room.

You rush to your bedroom and shut the door so he doesn’t hear the heavy sobs that start to erupt out of you.

You pace around the room, aching from the inside out. Right now, you don’t picture Rafe as the man he is, protecting you, carrying a gun. You picture the boy. At the beach. In the car. At the funeral.

Like a tide reaching a shore, you gravitate towards him. If he rejects you, you can take it. But you can’t handle the thought of him needing someone and you not being there.

Rafe is sitting at the edge of the guest bed when you turn the door handle. You close the distance and sit beside him, wrapping your arms beneath his, tight around his body.

“You can tell me to go away,” you whisper against his back. “I promise I will if you want me to.”

You feel his chest filling and contracting with his harsh breaths. He hunches over, head in his hands.

“Go away,” he mutters. Just like when he was a kid. His voice is deeper now, but his words are the same.

The pain is sharp. It takes everything in you to let go of him. But you do. For what feels like the thousandth time, he denies you a place in his healing, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted from him.

The tears welling in his eyes fall when he hears the door shut behind you. He can’t do this. He can’t relive it. He can’t disappoint you. He can’t open up all the way and tell you everything because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive himself or put himself back together.

You lie in bed, your chest hurting so bad that you’re not sure it’ll ever get better. It’s like for every step you take forward with Rafe, you take two back.

He held you, kept you from a panic attack today, but you don’t possess whatever it is you need to help him. He can keep you afloat, but you can’t return the favor.

He knows you care about him. He cried about it last night. Evidently, what you offer is still not enough.

He’s just down the hall, so close but at a distance. You pull up your duvet and wish he were beside you, falling asleep to the sound of your rambling.

But no amount of wishing for anything can make it come true. If there’s anything you’ve learned from your broken friendship with Rafe, it’s that.

(part six)

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[tootiecakes234]

Your Ex-boyfriend Katsuki Bakugo

The ex boyfriend who acted like he couldn’t care less when you told him you were leaving.

The ex boyfriend Katsuki, who told anyone that asked that about you, to shut the hell up.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite who was on the front page 2 weeks later because a reporter wouldn’t stop asking him about you.

Ex boyfriend that still has to see you often because you have the same group of friends.

The same ex boyfriend that can’t keep his eyes off of you when you’re around. And he tries, he really really tries but it’s instinct to always know where you are and if you’re safe.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite that uses chunks of his patrol time to follow you when you’re out and about. You never even notice him, but he’s there.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki who gets drunk one night and calls you sounding like he’s in tears. Spilling his guts to about how he’s so so sorry, and you’re still all he thinks about. He knows you always deserved better than him and even though it’s ripping his heart out, all he wants is for you to be happy.

Katsuki who can’t meet your eyes the next time he sees you because he remembers every word he said to you and he knows it doesn’t make a difference.

Ex boyfriend whose heart nearly stops beating the first time Mina mentions you have a date because he can’t believe it. You’re moving on.

You’re at a party when he finds you outside alone and tells you that if any of the guys you’re dating ever do anything to hurt, he will hunt them down and end them. Fuck his hero status.

Ex boyfriend who ends up chatting with you for a good long while time and then you laugh and he hasn’t heard that laugh in so long. It melts the ice he’s been feeling in his chest since you left.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki that kisses you in the midst of you laughing.

The man you melt against because it’s second nature. He keeps kissing you as long as you’ll let him because he knows, this is probably the last one he’ll get.

Ex boyfriend who cuts you off before you call that kiss a mistake and says he won’t do it again. He just wanted to say goodbye.

But then you kiss him again. When you pull away you tell your ex boyfriend that maybe you want to try again but you both have a lot of work to do. That it can’t go back to being the way it was or you’d leave and there wouldn’t be anymore chances after that.

“Ex” boyfriend Katsuki who swears on his life that it won’t be the same. That he’ll be whatever he needs because he doesn’t want to live this life without you.

Fiancé Katsuki Bakugo who still thinks of those 4 months without you as the worst 4 months of his life.

Fiancé that 100% keeps his promise and proposed to you 2 years later to the day and was honestly shocked that you said yes because in he is still convinced you could still do better than him. But if you were willing to settle, he’d give everything he had to try and be enough.

*i tried with this but honestly, I ain’t leaving that man.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

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[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 9

Previous/next chapters found here.

You and Johnny take a walk. CW: domestic abuse, panic attacks, dissociation, drug withdrawal, vomiting.

-

“Holy shit,” Jackie crows at the sight of you, her dark eyes huge and round like twin moons. One of her hands holds the rag she was using to wipe down the countertop of the bar and the other covers her mouth in a dainty expression of horror. “What happened to you?” 

You shake your head, a silent plea not to ask any more questions. The bruises on your face still throb with your pulse, a painful reminder that you are alive when you’re not even sure if you want to be. 

“Rooster’s gonna send you home,” says Jackie. “There’s no way you’ll get tips like this.” 

“No he fucking won’t,” you say through your teeth. A day of not working means a day of no tips. A day of no tips means the stash of money in your locker remains stagnant. If there was one thing you had learned on Saturday, it’s that your time with your boyfriend is coming to an end, one way or another. Either he will kill you, or you will kill him, or will finally scrape together the means to leave. 

You’ve got your eye on an apartment across town. One with copious natural lighting, one with a small but open floor plan. It would be more than enough for you. It would be everything.

Jackie sees the fire in your eyes—either that or you’ve gone and scared her—because she calls over Ruth to cover for you both and takes you into the break room, grabbing a bag of cosmetics out of her locker and doing her best to cover up your bruises. She gives you her jacket to cover the ones on your arms, the tiny circles caused by fingertips. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, feeling like there’s something stuck in your throat.

“We gotta stick together,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “I can’t work here alone. Not with just Ruth to talk to all day, and Rooster strutting around—“

“I know I didn’t just hear what I thought I heard,” a male voice says, the break room door flinging open and startling you both. Ruben stands there, his cowlick looking remarkably like a rooster’s comb. Your manager hates being called Rooster (which seems to make the problem all the worse), but the likeness is just too canny. “Why is Ruth out on the floor alone?”

“Girl stuff,” Jackie says with open malice. “You wanna hear about my monthly cycle, Ruben?”

He scowls, recoiling. “Just—wrap it up ladies. And wash your hands.”

“Jesus,” Jackie mutters once Rooster is gone and the door behind him is safely shut. “Men are so fucking weak.” 

The bruises on your face throb at her words. Men feel pretty fucking strong to you. 

-

“Yer outta yer mind if you think I’m eating that,” Johnny slurs, head in his hand where he sits slumped at the kitchen table. His entire body throbs, stomach wracked with nausea as he stares down at the eggs in front of him. 

“You need to eat,” Simon says, firm and quiet. Just the sound of his voice makes tears fill Johnny’s eyes—but that’s all his eyes do these days. Water. It’s the withdrawal, he knows. It makes him feel like crawling out of his own skin would be a mercy, like he’s suffering from the worst flu he’s ever had: puking and shitting his guts out, body aches from hell, eyes and nose running constantly. Combine that with the tension with Simon and it’s like he’s living in a nightmare he can’t wake up from; except even in his worst dreams, Simon had never done something like this. Even in his worst dreams, Simon had been a hero to him. 

“Can’t trust you,” Johnny mutters.

Simon reaches out, the motion a little too sudden and unexpected. Johnny flinches. 

When Simon moves again, it is slower, with obvious purpose as he takes Johnny’s fork, spears a bite of his eggs, and brings it to his own mouth. 

Somewhat mollified, Johnny picks up the fork and begins pushing the eggs around on his plate, just to make Simon shut up. Even if he knows the food isn’t poisoned, he still doesn’t have an appetite. 

Then Simon sets a green pill beside his plate, and all it does is set Johnny off again. 

“Get that away from me,” snarls Johnny. 

“You can’t just quit cold turkey. They’re opioids, Johnny. It could kill you to stop.” 

Fury swells up inside him, the edges of his vision bleeding black. Johnny shoves the half plate off of the table. It shatters against the linoleum, a sound which makes Simon flinch. For the moment, it satisfies Johnny’s need for control, his need for retribution. His need for violence. “I hope it does,” he grits out on a whim. “Don’t you pretend that you care.” 

The table creaks under Simon’s weight as he places his palms against it and leans forward, his face stormy. “I fucking love you. Everything I ever do is because I love you so fucking much—“

“Oh, right,” Johnny scoffs. 

“—yeah, right, I’ve been killing myself to keep you alive and safe and happy—“

“And you’ve been doin’ a shit job!” Johnny shouts, face reddening. 

Simon goes quiet and stiff. Johnny doesn't believe for a moment that he’s gone too far. Simon is the one who went too far the moment he dumped the crushed oxycontin into Johnny’s juice. Everything else is fair game. 

Before they discharged together, Johnny would have thought that Ghost’s face beneath the mask was just as stoic. Now he knows better, knows that Simon wore the mask to conceal a face which too often wore its emotions so plainly. 

He looks sad. Angry. And for a moment Johnny thinks Simon might even hit him. It would be welcome, Johnny thinks. He would be glad to have a bruise to point to, to be able to say ‘Here is where you hurt me’ instead of all of his bruises being on the inside. But instead Simon just turns away and goes into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. 

After a moment, Johnny hears the balcony door open and shut too as Simon puts as much distance between them as physically possible. 

Well, Johnny thinks, looking toward his slip on shoes. I can do you one better.  

-

By the time you are clocking out, there is a message from Simon on your phone. Since poker night, there have been a few days of radio silence from the apartment next door—and you don’t even want to know the things they might have heard coming from your own apartment. You’ll be happy to see Johnny again, to know that Simon is getting to take a few brief minutes for himself, even if that’s all you can give him. 

But when you open the message, your stomach drops: Johnny is missing. Have you seen him? sent nearly thirty minutes ago. You slam your locker shut, clenching the phone in your hand as you slip back out to the front of the restaurant, already bringing up the interface to call Simon, to hear what has happened and to find out how you can help. 

It isn’t needed. 

Johnny is sitting in the booth in the corner. Your heart swoops, takes your guts with it. You carefully make your way to his booth, noting the sweat on his forehead that he is mopping away with a napkin, noting the way his arm trembles. He looks thinner than ever. He looks sick. 

He smiles at you. 

“Are you off work? Did I catch you at the perfect time?” Johnny wonders. 

“You did,” you say cautiously, slipping into the booth.

“Good. I want to take you somewhere.” 

“Maybe we should go back to your apartment. Simon is pretty worried about you.” 

Johnny’s face darkens, visible storm clouds rolling in. It makes your stomach turn over, anxious. “Simon doesn’t worry about anyone but himself.” He stands, shaking a little, and holds out his hand to you. Nothing else you can do, you take it, careful not to pull him over as you stand out of the booth. 

-

The place Johnny takes you is a park nearby. It’s one that is handicap accessible, something which you’ve been taking notice of more and more often lately. The sidewalks are smooth and wide, the bathrooms are roomy, and there are plenty of benches (such as this one) for you and Johnny to sit down on when his leg aches from walking so far. 

Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. The first thing you had done was text Simon that Johnny was with you and he was okay. You could feel the buzz of multiple messages, but you hadn’t brought the phone out yet to check them, not with Johnny’s focus on you. You could sense that Simon was a sore spot right now. 

You didn’t want to make Johnny angry. 

So the two of you sit on a bench in dappled sunlight, the sweat cooling on both of your bodies. 

Johnny leans over and vomits. 

“Jesus Christ,” you say, scooting close to him to rub at his back. “Are you alright?” 

“Detoxin’,” he mutters, wiping the back of his mouth with a napkin he brought from the diner. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You’re pretty fucking worried about it. Detoxing from what, you wonder, as Johnny sits up, leaning back heavily against the park bench, close enough that you can count his eyelashes. He takes several deep, steadying breaths, and you take the stolen moment to look at him. His jaw is sharper than ever, cheekbones sharp, circles beneath his eyes, but he is undoubtedly handsome. The thought startles you; you haven’t had such a thought about a man in years. 

Johnny’s eyes open, blue as the sky, and rake over your face.

“Yer makeup job isn’t very good,” says Johnny at length. 

Your heart skips a beat. You turn away and watch a woman pass with her dog, a shepherd. Wetting your lips, you can’t think of anything to say. Johnny’s hand appears out of the corner of your eye and you flinch away from the touch before taking note of the shape of his hand: open, with soft fingers meant to caress instead of hurt. Baffled by this gentle touch, you let him stroke his thumb along the shadow of a bruise visible beneath Jackie’s makeup. It makes you shiver, like a cold breeze has blown in. 

“What was his excuse?” Johnny asks. “Or did he even have one?”

“What did Simon tell you?” 

“Everything. Already suspected most of it. He beats on you, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you mutter. 

How long has it been since someone knew? No—not since someone knew. Since someone cared? Since someone confronted it head on and called it what it was? Jackie knew—she had to know—but other than taking the heat for you about some texts on your phone and helping you cover up the bruises, she never made any motions to acknowledge it. Your family had known, before they cut off contact with you for good, but they were terrible creatures in themselves. 

You thought that maybe Simon had known, too. 

People seemed to have a limited capacity for caring about others. Or maybe they just had a limited capacity for caring about you. 

“I want to help you,” says Johnny, earnest. 

You can’t help but look at him with suspicion. “Why?” 

“Because it’s wrong, what he’s doin’,” says Johnny simply. “Because we’re supposed to cherish the people we love. Because no one deserves this, least of all you.” 

Your hands work anxiously in your lap. He says the right things—but you’ve always been a sucker for pretty words. 

“The last time a man wanted to help me escape a bad situation, it was so he could put me into a worse one,” you admit. Johnny’s face falls, hurt splashing across his features, and you feel it keenly, like it is your own. You’re quick to assure him: “I want to trust you.” 

The rest remains unspoken: you don’t know if you can. 

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them,” says Johnny with a wane smile. 

“Hemingway said that.” 

“Aye. You like to read?”

“Yes, but not Hemingway.” 

Johnny laughs, a bright sound that has your mouth curling upward. Smiling isn’t unfamiliar to you, not when you must plaster one on all day to have any chance at all of making tips, but it’s been a while since it’s been genuine. Maybe that’s why it feels so strange. Maybe when it’s real, it uses different muscles. 

“If you were going to help,” you begin cautiously, giving an awkward smile to an older couple as they shuffle by, pausing and waiting for them to be gone before you continue, “how would you do it? I’m…I’m in deep. He’s got videos.” 

“Videos.” Johnny’s jaw has clenched tight, his eyes hard and cold. 

“Of me.” 

“Aye, I assumed. So he’s blackmailing you.”

You shrug a shoulder, eyes on your scuffed work shoes. 

“What if I could make him disappear?” Johnny asks quietly. 

You glance up. “How?” 

It’s his turn to shrug, an expression of feigned indifference. A little smile tugs at his lips. “An accident. Any accident, really.”

You finally understand him, and at first you laugh, grin tugging at the bruises on your face until his own solemn expression barely changes, and then your laughter dies on your tongue. 

“Johnny what the fuck,” you whisper. “You’re joking, right? I—Jesus Christ. I have to pretend that was a joke. You’re talking about murder, and—

—and I’m the first person they’d suspect!”

“That’s why it would have to look like an accident,” Johnny emphasizes.

“You’d be risking my freedom, my life—“

“I’d never let you take the fall—“

“Then you’re putting your own life at risk—why would you—fuck you don’t even know me!”

Johnny’s face goes red and he says nothing. Your teeth click shut with how fast you shut your mouth. You’re embarrassing him, making him angry—that much is clear. Maybe he expects you to be grateful, (and there is a part of you, small, which is flattered, as nonsensical as it is), but mostly all you are is scared shitless. 

Johnny talks about killing the way most people talk about getting lunch. 

“I forget that you don’t know about our past,” Johnny says, seeming to shrink into himself as he leans back against the bench, running a hand through his mohawk. “Simon n’ me. We’re ex-military. I don’t even want to guess at our combined body count. I—lass. I’m scaring you.”

“No,” you lie soothingly. Your hands clench together to keep them from shaking and giving you away. “No, no—I’m fine, I just remembered, I was supposed to give Jackie some gas money. She gave me a ride the other day. I should probably go—“

“I’d never hurt you, I swear it,” says Johnny fervently, sitting up tall. He reaches for your hand and you want to scream but you go limp instead, like a rabbit caught in a dog’s jaws, playing dead. He takes your hand and pets it softly. You barely feel it, mind far away. 

“It’s okay,” you soothe him emptily, hoping to placate him enough to get away. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Johnny seems to realize what you’re doing. He gently lays your hand back in your lap.

He says, quiet: “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.” 

You can’t talk anymore, shell-shocked, terrified. There was a time when you were good at this: good at appeasing the beasts inside men. You could soothe your boyfriend’s bad mood in a heartbeat with just a touch or a few words. But over time it had become more and more difficult, and you had become more and more afraid. Now no matter how hard you try, your efforts feel stunted and lame. 

Johnny is talking, low voice rushing over you like the current of a warm river.  

“—in public, aye? Would be a fool to hurt you here, wouldn’t I?” he asks, voice soft. He has moved to the far end of the bench until a gaping chasm rests between you both, one you are grateful for. It gives you the space to breathe, your chest throbbing. “All these people around—someone would stop me. You’re safe, lass. Take a breath fer me. Aye, and another—good girl, that’s it. Doing so well. Strong one, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you croak, feeling uncomfortably tethered to your own body, to the burning of your eyes. You reach up and wipe at them before the tears can fall. Beside you, Johnny sits quietly. Several minutes pass, and each person who walks by the bench seems to bring you more and more security, until you are safe enough to feel silly and embarrassed by your own overreaction. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” says Johnny. “It was my fault. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I won’t…I won’t bring that up again. I guess it’s pretty stupid. Simon’s been telling me so all along.”

“Are you two fighting?” 

Johnny snorts. “You could say that. He did something…something terrible. I don’t know how to trust him anymore.” 

“Do you still want to trust him?” 

“Aye,” says Johnny, voice nearly carried away by the breeze. “In the service, I trusted him with anything. Everything. My whole miserable life. Never wanted that to change.”

“Someone once reminded me that the best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them,” you say. 

“Sounds like a fucking cunt.”

“Hemingway or you?”

“Both.”

You have just relaxed back onto the bench, tilting your face toward the sun to offer it another one of your rare smiles when a shadow falls over the two of you both. 

[halfwayhearted]

Will You Cry? — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: Ever since JJ’s confession, it feels like your relationship with Spencer is crumbling to pieces right before your eyes. You’ve had enough.

Word Count: 920+

Disclaimer/s — ANGST (hiphip!), no fluff/comfort ending, no use of Y/N, I think that’s it! 🎀

A/N: Soooooo, haha… Lmk.

‘I’ve always loved you’.

Those were Jennifer Jareau’s exact words to your boyfriend of two years. You weren’t angry; it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. She had to give the UnSub what he wanted, to be impressed. And she did exactly that.

You weren’t mad at her at all. Nor him.

Well, you weren't mad at him then. Now, it was a whole different story.

The pieces of your relationship were shattering, bit by bit, right in front of you. The worst part was, you felt completely and utterly helpless. You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But, he just kept on acting the same way.

Distant.

Once it hit exactly two months, you realized you faced one thought and one thought only.

If you decide to let go, how will he feel?

Will he reassure you, claiming it’s just a… a rough patch, finally realizing just how deeply his lack of understanding and communication has quite literally affected you? Or, will he keep doing what he’s been doing, shrugging and brushing you off like you’re nothing but a stranger he happens to pass by almost every single day?

You’d find out one way or another.

Oh. You’ll actually find out right now! How fun.

As soon as you hear the front door unlock and creak open, you rise to your feet, casting a wary glance towards him. You nervously wipe your sweaty palms on your pants.

He had spent yet another few hours at the BAU, even though he didn’t have to. That was also one of the reasons you so badly needed to talk to him. He never stayed this late before, but ever since everything went down, he started to. Leaving you to drive home alone, wondering if this was the slow, painful end of something special.

“Hey,” you begin, “You’re home late. Again.”

He merely hummed, a distant sound, as he took off his leather messenger bag, hung it on the hook with a weary sigh, and slipped off his shoes.

How could you even bring this up? Just—you didn’t know, take a deep breath and go for it? “Do you think we could maybe… talk?”

Slowly, Spencer flicked his gaze to meet yours. He mutters your name under his breath before replying, “I’m tired. Can this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“No,” you blurted, internally face-palming. “It won’t take long, I don’t think.”

Inhaling sharply, your boyfriend nods and begins to take off his tie, his eyes never leaving you as you figure out how to start.

“About JJ’s confession,” you begin, mentally cursing yourself when you see him stiffen almost immediately. It’s already out. So, just stick with it. “Did it mean something to you?”

Silence. Deafening silence. The only sound is the subtle hum of the air conditioning. You vividly remember you and Spencer on the couch, his head on your lap as he read a book you both wanted to read together. He’d pause whenever the air conditioning kicked on, making you let out a small huff of laughter. It feels like it was just yesterday. But, in reality, it was four months ago.

You felt your patience thinning, “Spencer—”

“What do you want me to say?” He quips, lifting his arms in frustration. His words cut through the air, earning a bitter scoff in return.

You kept your composure. “Answer the question.”

“Why does it matter?”

Why does it matter? You could’ve burst out laughing right then and there, but you held it in.

“It matters because I need to know if everything I’ve been doing these past two months have been for nothing!” You snapped, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I tried to make this work, it’s like you’ve given up on us or something.”

All you get in return is silence, so you continue. “You don’t talk to me as much as you used to. Not about your day, what you’ve read, how you’ve been—nothing! It’s always ‘I’m tired, talk later,’ or you vanish into your office for hours and hours on end. We don’t even do the things we used to. Haven’t you realized? I—I don’t even know what to say to you anymore, Spencer. No weekly dates, no quality time spent. I didn’t mind because as long as you were here, I was fine. But now? Now, I’m not so sure. I’ve tried to get at least a little communication from you, but you’ve given me nothing. I’m tired, okay? So, please, talk to me.”

…

He blinks. Once, twice, three times. Nothing.

Of course.

A humorless laugh bubbles up and escapes your lips. The tears you fought so hard to hold back now stream uncontrollably down your cheeks. You brush past him and reach for your sweater. Just then, you feel the desperate brush of his fingers against your elbow, but you pull back and slip the fabric on with a trembling resolve.

You hear him say your name. You don’t answer as you grab your bag. He says it again, this time much louder. Still, you don’t respond as you grab your keys. Once you stand in front of the door, you turn to face him. “If you can’t come to terms with your feelings just yet, I understand. But I’m done putting myself through that—the waiting. I won’t put up with that anymore. Not right now.”

He says nothing.

Spencer Reid is silent.

You catch the softening in his expression, but you turn away sharply, refusing to let yourself crumble under the weight of his gaze.

“Goodbye, Spencer.” And with that, you leave.

You were done.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[pure-smut]

off limits.

featuring: Togame Jo x f!reader

contains: reader is Choji's sister, brother's best friend trope, a bit of angst, dry humping, outersex I think it's called? that thing where you rub genitals without penetration, someone help a gal out it's embarrassing to write smut and forget the name of the s*x thing you wrote about

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

series: 1. off limits | 2. radioactive

MDNI | 18+ content

a/n: phew boy did this one run away from me. i'm thinking this could be a series? yes no maybe?? let me know y'alls thoughts <3

Everyone knows that you, sister of the leader of Shishitoren, are off limits. It’s the bane of your dating life, every potential boyfriend too scared to even talk to you, let alone go further.

And it’s why you fall so hard for the boy from Bofurin.

He’d approached you on a night out, a rare mix of Shishitoren and Bofurin members in the same place. You asked if he knew who you were and he said yes. You asked if he was scared and he smiled and said no.

In hindsight, you never should have entertained a Bofurin boy. But you were so excited about the prospect that someone might like you enough to disregard the tentative agreement between your gangs. Between secret meet ups and stolen kisses, you let yourself fall for him.

Stupid.

He eventually stops showing up to your secret spot, stops messaging you back as quickly, stops taking your calls. You think you’ve done something wrong – you must have done something wrong – and you become frantic.

Are you leaving me? you message him.

He doesn’t reply for three days.

He’s met someone else, someone on his side of the tracks. It would never have worked out between you two anyway. He’s sorry he led you on, sorry he gave you the wrong idea. It was just a bit of fun anyway, right? You’re a great girl and you’ll find someone soon.

You smash your phone against the wall.

You throw on your shortest dress and your highest heels. You meet your friends at the bar, meet other Shishitoren members, slam your cash on the bar and buy rounds for everyone. You dance and laugh and drink, drink, drink, and on the inside you feel like your heart has been scooped out your chest and dumped on the side of the road.

The night becomes blurred, conversations and people mixing into each other like paint, until you can’t distinguish each from the next. You feel sick but you keep drinking, keep dancing, keep laughing.

You land hard on the ground but you don’t feel anything. Someone says something to you but you can’t hear them.

You feel like you’re in a washing machine, spinning. And then you don’t remember anything at all. *

You wake up to a dark room. You have approximately half a second of peace before the worst headache you’ve ever had in your life starts thumping at the back of your skull. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and when you reach up to rub the sleep from your eyes, you realise you’ve still got last night’s make-up on.

“Uuuugh,” you groan and the taste of your own mouth makes you grimace.

You’re still in last night’s clothes, the dress hiked up to your waist from sleeping in it, but at least you remembered to take your shoes off. You can feel the burn in the balls of your feet from dancing in them too long.

You roll over in bed, blindly groping the nightstand for your phone before you remember you smashed it. You groan again, burying your face in the pillow, as the memories of yesterday come back with a vengeance.

I’ve met someone else.

It was just a bit of fun, right?

You’ll find someone soon.

Rage curdles with heartbreak in your stomach, making you feel nauseous. Who else? you want to cry out. Who the fuck else in this goddamn place will even come close to me?

Pressure builds behind your eyes, forcing you to suck in a deep breath to stem the tears. You refuse to cry any more over that asshole. You exhale shakily. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re so hungover you might expire right here in the bed so you have more immediate concerns you can focus on.

You manage to stumble out of bed, pulling your dress back down, and find the lamp light, casting a warm glow across your studio apartment. It’s only when you try to walk to the kitchen that you notice a dull ache on your leg.

You look down to see your knee is skinned, caked with dry blood, a fresh bruise blooming around it. You vaguely remember falling over but didn’t realise you’d actually hurt yourself.

“Gotta be fucking kidding me…” you mutter to yourself.

You’re annoyed but half-grateful – the physical pain is at least a distraction from your current emotional pain. You limp to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. You drain the whole glass is one go, gulping it down like you’ve been traversing the Savannah for a week, and pour yourself a second glass. Your head is still thumping but you’re pretty sure after you brush your teeth, your mouth will at least go back to normal. But that’s a task for later.

With a heavy sigh, you pad over to the living area.

Except there’s something weird about it. You stare at the couch, blinking. Did you put a pile of blankets on there last night? You frown. You don’t remember doing that but you don’t remember a lot of things past a certain point.

Your eyes trail over the blankets until they settle on something even weirder. It looks like a tuft of jet black hair is sticking out from under the blanket. You blink again, your hungover brain churning as fast as it can to process what you’re seeing.

It’s only when the pile of blankets moves, an arm stretching out, that you scream.

There’s a fucking man in your house.

“Get out!” you screech.

You launch the glass of water at him but miss. It bounces harmlessly off the back of the couch but water goes everywhere, spraying the stranger.

“Ah.” Togame Jo pushes the blanket off himself, half-drenched. He scrubs his hand over his face before pushing back his wet hair. “That was a weird way to wake up.”

“T-Togame?” you stammer out, rooted to the spot. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Togame sits back, his hair still dripping water down his face.

“Oh, hey, y/n,” he says as if just realising you’re there. “Good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning, what are you doing here?” you demand, hand on your hip. “You scared me!”

Togame looks genuinely surprised, his eyebrows raising.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He looks around. “What time is it? Think we slept in.”

You spread your hands, still waiting for him to answer your question, but he only stands up, stretching his arms above his head.

“How you feeling? Oh, I’ll make the coffee.” He yawns and walks past you to the kitchen.

“Togame.”

“Hm?”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“Hmm.”

Togame opens your cupboards, pulling two mugs free, as if he lives here. You cross your arms across your chest, your headache making your patience wear thin.

“Togame…” your tone is warning.

“What’s the rush?” He turns to grin at you. “My guess is you’ve got a hangover that could slay a walrus so why don’t you just… chill?”

If that instruction came from anyone else, it’d make your temper flare. But it’s Togame. He moves like a sloth. You sigh and uncross your arms.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and take a shower. I feel like shit.” You stomp past him to the bathroom. “I want three-”

“Three sugars,” Togame finishes, winking. “Known you long enough to know how you like your coffee, doll.”

You turn away and close the bathroom door before he can see the blush on your cheeks. Truth be told, you had the fattest crush on Togame growing up – he’s only one year your senior and he was always around, being best friends with your brother. It fizzled as you got older but he still has the ability to make your cheeks flush. Sometimes you think he knows it.

You take a long, hot shower, ignoring the sting of your knee as you clean it. It's not so bad once the blood has cleared, just a scrape against the skin. That's one less problem, at least.

Once you’ve scrubbed away the hangover and your mouth feels clean again, you feel almost like normal. Your headache persists but it’s calmed to an annoying throb instead of feeling like a chainsaw in your skull.

You step out of the bathroom in your towel, hair dripping, to find Togame on your bed, scrolling his phone. You give him a flat look.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get off.”

Togame cocks his eyebrow, amused.

“Couch was wet.”

You press your lips together and exhale. You decide to ignore him and start picking through your clothes on the floor, trying to find a clean pair of pyjamas. You have absolutely no intention of leaving your home today.

“Your towel’s a bit short to be bending over like that.”

Togame’s voice makes you snap up to standing. You spin to face him, cheeks hot.

“Togame!”

He only grins wide at you, chuckling.

What has gotten into him? you think as you start searching your clothes again, more carefully this time. Togame’s always been a light flirt but nothing this brazen. And he still hasn’t told you what’s doing here.

A sick feeling overcomes you. You slowly turn to him.

“Togame…” you say and he looks up from his phone. “Last night, we didn’t…”

“Jesus, y/n.” A notch appears between his brow and you realise he looks hurt. “No, nothing happened last night.”

You take a shaky breath, an embarrassed heat crawling up your neck.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Y/n.”

Togame sits up straighter, tugging his t-shirt over his head. You watch, wide-eyed, as he hands it to you.

“Wear this and come lie down already. I’ll tell you why I’m here, alright?”

You try your best to ignore his bare torso and accept his t-shirt. Togame makes a show of covering his eyes as you quickly change into it. Too late you realise you didn’t pick up any clean underwear but Togame’s t-shirt falls to your mid-thigh so it should be fine, you just need to make sure you don’t accidentally flash him.

Togame pats the space on the bed next to him and you cautiously climb on, tugging the hem of his t-shirt down.

“Okay. I’ll start by saying I know you had a rough day yesterday so there’s no judgement here…”

Immediately, your anxiety spikes.

“Your brother and I found you in one of the clubs. You were…” He struggles to find the right words.

“Completely wasted?”

“Yeah.”

You sigh but it’s not unexpected news – you already knew by the hangover and the lack of solid memories.

“You were telling everyone you hate Bofurin.” Togame scratches his head. “That was weird. And then you fell and hurt yourself so I took you back home. Made sure you weren’t going to choke on your own vomit and then took the sofa.”

You groan, drawing your knees up to your chest and putting your face in your hands. Humiliating.

“I don’t hate Bofurin,” you say quietly. “I hate one Bofurin boy.”

“Ah.” Togame clicks his tongue in understanding.

The brutal break-up messages invade your mind again, your chest aching. To your horror, hot tears spill down your cheeks.

You try to twist away before Togame can see but he stops you before you can, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him. His bare chest is hot against your cheek and you can smell the familiar scent of him on his t-shirt. It’s so comforting and familiar, it’s like a dam breaks inside you.

You break down, howling and burying your face in Togame’s chest.

“I hate him,” you sob. “I hate him, I hate him.”

Togame stays quiet, resting his cheek on the top of your head as he lets you cry yourself dry. You eventually pitter out to a sniffle, your nose blocked and eyes puffy.

“I’m just gonna get you a tissue, okay?” Togame says before releasing you.

When he returns, you dry your eyes and blow your nose, taking a deep breath. Even though the hollow feeling inside your hasn’t gone, you feel lighter. Like a weight is off your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say, still sniffling, as he climbs back into bed.

You catch sight of his chest, shiny with your tears and… other things. You wince.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

Togame only shrugs but you feel bad so you kneel beside him, pulling a fresh tissue. You swipe it gently across his chest, cleaning him off. You feel Togame’s eyes on you, watching you, and glance up.

“What?”

“Who was he?”

You look at him properly, hearing the hardness in his voice. Togame usually has a smile on his lips, and he still does, but his green eyes are sharp as emeralds. You heave a sigh.

“You want to fight him.”

“Maybe.”

“Mmm. Thought so.” You shake your head, pulling back and throwing the tissues in the bin. “It’s not worth it, Togame.”

“He hurt you.”

“Yeah, but I let him.” You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. You huff a laugh. “I don’t know if it’s even him I loved or…”

A thickness appears in your throat, tears threatening again.

“Or what?” Togame’s voice softens.

You know if you speak, you’ll cry, so you just shake your head instead.

“Y/n…”

Togame sits up straighter, reaching across to grasp your hand. You inhale deeply, pushing back tears.

“I…” You swallow and try again. “I’m off limits.”

Togame squeezes your hand so you keep going.

“I can never have a proper boyfriend and that fucking sucks. I just got so excited that I found someone.” Your vision swims and you irritably brush away the tears. “I don’t know if it’s him I liked or just the fact that I had someone. Anyone.”

Togame is quiet, his fingers interlaced with yours. You scrub the back of your hand against your cheeks until your tears stop, shoulders sagging.

“Man… Choji sucks,” Togame says, breaking the silence. “I suck too. I didn’t even think about how this would…”

He scratches the back of his neck, wincing.

“I’ll talk to your brother for you.” Togame squeezes your hand again but your head snaps up at his words. “I’ll tell him-”

“No! No, don’t do that.” You shake your head. “It’s awkward and it won’t help. What, is he gonna go to the whole of Shishitoren and say, step right up and bang my sister?”

Togame sniggers and you find yourself chuckling quietly with him, despite yourself.

“You’ve got a point,” he concedes.

You take a deep breath, giving your cheek a couple of light slaps.

“I do feel better though,” you tell him. “After talking to you. So, thank you.”

Togame gives you a lazy grin.

“Anytime.”

“Even though I’m gonna die alone.”

“Not true.” Togame shakes his head with a smile. “If there wasn’t this dumb ‘off limits’ rule, you’d have guys falling at your feet.”

“Shut up,” you say but you’re smiling hard, cheeks warming.

“Seriously,” Togame says, locking eyes with you. “Trust me.”

Did all the air just get sucked out of the room or something? You try to take a breath but your lungs feel tight. Togame’s gaze bores into you and you’re suddenly hyper-aware you’re still holding hands.

Wait, what did he mean by that? Did he mean him? Is he talking about himself?

Despite your spiralling, Togame seems completely unfazed.

“I’m gettin’ hungry. Let’s order in.” He talks like it’s obvious he’s spending the day here. Which you’re not entirely mad about.

“Uh. Yeah, sure.”

You watch as Togame grabs his phone, tapping through to a delivery app. You take the opportunity to really look at him. You know what he looks like, obviously, you’ve known each other most of your lives. But you’ve never really looked before.

His dark hair is still messy from being wet earlier and his undercut is growing back, needing to get shaved again soon. You admire the curve of his strong nose, his sharp jaw. When your eyes fall on his lips, you dart a tongue out to wet your own automatically. Togame glances up to catch you staring and you immediately avert your eyes, pretending to study the ceiling.

“Were you star-” he starts.

“So what food are we getting?” you interrupt him, leaping off the bed and pulling down the hem of your t-shirt.

You’re not entirely sure why you jumped away from him so you pick up your laptop as a cover, except you trip over your clothes on the way, your feet tangling in the fabric. Togame regards you with an amused look, waiting for you to return before handing you his phone.

“Choose whatever you want, my treat,” he says.

You would normally protest, insist on splitting 50/50, but you’re too flustered to do anything except tap in your order and hide your red-hot face as much as possible, climbing back into bed next to him. Togame’s watching you so you focus on searching for a movie on your laptop, not looking at him.

“Y/n,” he says.

“Hmm?”

“Y/n.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

You swallow hard and reluctantly turn to face him.

“Yeah?”

Togame’s face has turned serious, his playful smile gone.

“Put the laptop away,” he says and there’s an undercurrent of a command there that makes you do what he says.

You put the laptop on the nightstand and as soon as you do, Togame pulls you on top of him so you’re straddling his lap. You inhale sharply at the sudden movement, his t-shirt riding up your thighs. You tug the hem back down, covering yourself, and look at Togame with burning cheeks.

“What are you doing?” you protest.

“You like me,” he states plainly. "I didn't want to say anything because I thought it would make you feel worse but..."

Your brow furrows.

"But what?"

Togame gives you a sly grin.

"You were kinda... all over me last night."

Your stomach drops out your butt. Your throat closes to a pinpoint.

"What?" you choke out.

"You told me you got a crush on me."

"Oh, god."

"Said you wanted me to come back to yours."

"Please stop."

"Which I did, obviously, but like, just to make sure you were okay. You were really out of it. So yeah, that's how I know you like me."

Are you having a panic attack? Because this feels like a panic attack. It feels like your lungs have closed up shop. You didn't think your face could burn any hotter but you swear you can cook an egg on your cheeks right now. You've never prayed harder for the floor to swallow you whole.

You go to move out of Togame's lap but he grabs your hips, stopping you. Before you can say anything else, he continues.

“Honestly?" Togame rests his head back against the headboard, regarding you with an easy smile. "I like you too. Have for a while.”

The casualness of his confession is at odds with the way your heart thunders in your chest.

“You’re right – you’re off limits. Choji never explicitly said anything but it’s kinda implied. So, I held back.” Togame gives you an apologetic smile. “I didn’t realise how much of a disservice I was doing to you until today. Until earlier.” He takes a deep breath. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. Your brain churns slowly, still not fully recovered from last night, as you process this, but at least your heart rate slows somewhat. You haven't made a complete fool of yourself if Togame likes you back, right?

“What… w-what does this mean?" you stammer. "Like, what do we…?”

Togame reaches out to brush your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His fingers linger on your cheek.

“I think we should talk to Choji before anything…” His gaze rakes over you. “Happens.”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You’re right. We should talk to Choji first.”

There's not a lot of conviction in your voice even though you know it's the right thing to do. You glance down at Togame’s bare torso. You place your hand on his toned stomach, sliding it up to his chest. He feels so good under you, his skin hot to the touch, the hardness of his muscle. And now he’s yours.

The thought emboldens you. You lean forward, trailing your hand up his neck to his jaw before carding your fingers through his dark hair. It’s softer than you expected, still half-damp, and Togame’s eyelids flutter as your nails scratch his scalp.

“Kissing is fine though, right?” you whisper.

“Mmm,” Togame hums. “If it’s just kissing…”

That’s all the permission you need.

You close the few inches between you, pressing your lips against his. Togame runs one hand up your thigh while the other cradles your jaw. He kisses as slow as you expected, taking his time with you, savouring you. You part your lips to deepen the kiss and Togame gladly obliges, running his tongue across your bottom lip before slipping it inside your mouth.

Your entire crush, which you thought had fizzled out, explodes from its grave. Your skin buzzes, your hands running over his chest, his biceps, up to the nape of his neck to tug on his hair. The Bofurin boy was the only person you ever kissed and it was always nice.

This is so much more.

Togame rolls you over until you’re on your back and he’s on top, never breaking the kiss. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. Your hands are on his back, feeling the muscles move as he supports himself over you. You moan into his mouth and Togame immediately pulls back.

“Ah, you can’t…” He blinks a few times, half-laughing. “You can’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Make that noise. I’m…” Togame glances down and then back up again, fixating on a spot above your head. “I’m hard already.”

A smile crawls across your face, a thrill running through you. You tighten the grip your legs have around his hips, wiggling against him. True to his word, you can feel his boner through his sweatpants.

“Mmm, ah, aha, you’re really not making this any easier on me.”

“It’s just kissing, Jo.” You grin, pleased that you have such an effect on him, and pull his face down for another kiss.

“Mmm, I kinda liked that,” Togame says between kisses, a smile on his lips. “Say it again.”

“Jo,” you say sweetly, bucking your hips to rub against his hard-on again.

“Ah, fuck, that feels good…” Togame moves his mouth down to your neck, sucking on the skin there. “Mmm, maybe grinding’s allowed too.”

“I agree,” you say, pulling his hips down to meet yours.

Togame rolls his hips, rubbing his bulge against your naked pussy. The friction against your throbbing clit only spurs you on and you grind back against him. Togame groans into your neck, the stimulation teasing enough for all the blood to rush to his cock but just not quite enough.

“Jo, I need more…” you breathe, almost pleading.

You’ve been teased to the brink of your climax but it’s not enough to push you over the edge.

“I know, baby, me too.” Togame pushes himself up onto his hands, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve got an idea.”

He rolls onto his back, scooping his arms under you to take you with him, as you end up back on top.

“Raise your hips a little for me, baby,” he instructs and you do so.

Once you’ve hovering over him, Togame reaches down to push his sweatpants down slightly, just enough so that his cock springs free. You look down at it, mouth watering, before glancing back at Togame.

“I thought we couldn’t…”

“Don’t worry.” Togame smiles up at you reassuringly.

He presses his cock down against his stomach and, with one hand on your hip, guides you to sit gently on the shaft. As soon as you do, your lips pressed against his cock, he lets out a relieved groan.

“Fuck, that’s better,” he breathes. “Just grind back and forth, baby.”

The feel of Togame’s bare cock against your pussy makes your hole clench around nothing. Togame pushes up your t-shirt to your waist, holding it there so he can watch. Slowly, cautiously, you slide your puffy lips back and forth along his shaft.

“S-shit…” Togame mutters. “Good job, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good, just keep going.”

You rock your hips back and forth, feeling the ridges of Togame’s cock, his fat mushroom head rubbing against your swollen bud so deliciously. You let out a content sigh, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs so you can roll your hips easier.

“Jesus Chris, you’re so fucking hot.” Togame’s usually sleepy eyes are locked onto you, switching between your face to your body to where your slick cunt grinds against his cock.

Your pussy drools for him, making the friction even better. Togame’s grip tightens on your waist, the heat of your wet lips against his girth bringing him to the edge of euphoria. You cant your hips slightly, rubbing your clit against the sensitive head of his cock, and Togame moans out loud. The pleasure you’re both inflicting on each other fuels the other, bringing you to the apex together.

“Jo…” you gasp and Togame knows he’ll do whatever he has to, to make sure he gets to hear you say his name like that again. “I’m gonna…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Your body seizes, your back arching, as you cream over his cock. The sight of you cumming is enough to usher in Togame’s own orgasm. He groans, long and low, his grip like iron on your waist. You feel his cock throb against you and look down in time to see him fire thick ropes of cum across his stomach and chest. You’re hypnotised by the scene – the stripes of creamy cum, the way Togame’s abs move as he breathes heavy, the half-lidded, satisfied look in his eyes.

He finally releases his grip on you, letting your t-shirt fall. You sit back slightly, not wanting to leave your position just yet, and reach for the tissues he got your earlier. With shared grins, you both clean the cum from his torso.

“Come here,” Togame says, opening his arms.

You lean forward, pressing yourself against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“We’ll talk to Choji tonight,” he says. “I don’t think we’ll last until tomorrow.”

You smirk, not disagreeing, but your smile falls.

“What if he says no?” you say quietly.

Togame’s chest rises under you as he breathes deep. He doesn’t have an answer for you.

masterlist

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[seungfl0wer]

Changbin As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains smut 🩷

Posting this on Changbins birthday🩷 so happy birthday so the very man who got me into stray kids. The loml, the man of everyone’s dreams.

-🩵

•Man is all about you.

•He really just thinks about you a lot.

•The members joke that you’re one of the only people he’ll text back right away.

•Likes to send you gym pictures.

•A lot of gym pictures.

•Just so you’ll compliment him.

•And please do that.

•Do it a lot, because this man just gushes at your praise and kind words.

•The way he just giggles and blushes when you say anything remotely like it.

•Even when you’re together for years he’s still a blushing mess.

•Wants to constantly cuddle.

•You wrapped in his strong arms.

•His favorite thing to do while you’re cuddling is nuzzle his face into your neck.

•Softly leaving kisses as he repeats “Mine, All mine”

•Brings you his clothes to wear constantly because it just melts him.

•He’ll make the comment about “Wow whoever hoodie that is they got taste”

•Loves bringing you to his home with him to hang out with his mom.

•Changbin is so family oriented and to see you and his family together just-

•It makes him wanna cry.

•And the first time you meet his family seeing them love you.

•He’s crying, and he’s crying hard. Holding onto you with a big smile plastered on him.

•Asks you a lot to go to the gym.

•Even if you don’t wanna work out he just likes having your company there.

•Has the Worst photo of you as his Home Screen.

•He finds it so cute and funny.

•He’ll whine when you say you think it’s ugly.

•Because how dare you say that about his partner.

•You guys have such deep conversations.

•He really loves these.

•Just sitting there talking about your future, your dreams, the meaning of life, and how he could make dwaekki could be an actual animal.

•Always texting to make sure you ate.

•He’s always worried you’re not taking care of yourself.

•Has a whole snack box stocked of your faves at all times.

•Also if you ever say anything about something hurting and or feeling sick.

•Mans there so fast to take care of you.

•He’ll be worried until you feel better.

•And if you’re someone who gets periods?

•He’s making sure you have everything.

•Plus make sure to have time to come cuddle you if you need while you’re suffering.

•Has so many files of songs for you too.

•Mans really whipped for you and he wouldn’t have it any other way honestly.

•You both are just each other’s support system. Solving any problems with communication.

•You’re constantly there for each other, in anyway the other needs.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•Body worshiping at its finest.

•Kissing every inch of your body, Telling you how stunning you are.

•Lots of praise, So much praise From the both of you.

•”Y/n do you know how good looking you are?” Followed by even more kissing.

•”Binnie my handsome man, aah your lips are so soft”

•His favorite position is definitely one where he’s holding you up.

•Loves showing off his strength of course.

•Plus he loves how you grip on to his arms.

•He has your body memorized, all your sweet spots everything.

•He loves the way you sound- oh god does he ever.

•The way you sound when you are just coming undone around him.

•He wants to save those sounds forever.

•Definitely has a thing for you sucking his fingers.

•Has his hand cupped under your chin, thumb to your lips as you suck on it.

•You ask for anything during he’s giving it you right away.

•”Please Bin- Faster” “Deeper, aah right there”

•He’s giving you anything you want.

•You could ask him to murder someone and he’d probably say yes.

•100% probably records your noises.

•Yeah y’all have phone sex while he’s away

•But nothing compares to the sound of him fucking you into another dimension.

•Although he is very soft for you.

•He fucks you so good, so rough but full of so much love.

•Makes you cum multiple times before he’s cuming.

•God the cuddles after sex though?

•You’re actually just glued together at this point.

•He’s not letting you go for at least 10 minutes.

•And when you finally get up to pee he’s whining.

•Making small grabby hands for you to come back.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[alwaysanundertone]

Why try? | poly! marauders x fem! reader

tag: @staarflowerr @mooonyxoxo @liviessun

fluff / slight angst if you close an eye

word count: 1.5k

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three , chapter 4 will be coming soon

CW: negative self talk, cursing

TW: mention of skipping meals!!! Be safe please bestie 🩷

It’s been a couple of days.

A couple of days of you hiding in your dorm room because you just can’t bring yourself to talk to them. The worst thing is that you can’t even talk about it, because nobody knows that you’ve been dating them.

So your roommates just think you’re going through some type of depression.

Thankfully, being the weekend, you don’t have any lesson to go to, so you can just stay in bed and cry all you want.

You don’t even know why you’re making such a big deal out of a single comment, you are painfully aware that you can’t even fight over this small thing, but it still hurts.

That single comment brought out your first two years in Hogwarts, when nobody really was looking forward to become your friend, when you felt like a wallflower in every social setting, when you felt like somebody to be tolerated, not somebody to be loved.

The problem is, you haven’t eaten in two days, and even though you aren’t necessarily hungry, you know that you’ll have to have breakfast on Monday. You aren’t even sleeping well, this mix isn’t really helping your mood, nor the headache that doesn’t seem to pass. You just hope you’ll feel better tomorrow morning.

“Sirius you can’t just barge into her room, for God’s sake” James was sitting on his bed, head in his hands.

“Yeah, Prongs here is right. We aren’t even here boyfriends”

“So what? We’re gonna ignore the fact that she hasn’t been eating for two days straight and pretend that she is fine? Because she is not, I’m telling you. Remus you told us that she seemed strange in the library, yes?” Sirius was pacing anxiously back and forth in their dorm room. He just couldn’t understand why you had been in your room for two days straight, they thought they should have given you some space, but it was getting ridiculous, and Sirius hated space, he wanted you here with his two boyfriends.

Remus shook his head “Maybe she has been eating? How do you know she hasn’t left her dorm room?”

Sirius blushed “I may or may not have checked the map every five minutes since Friday night, and I wanted to remind you that she hasn’t eaten a thing even then! Herbology my ass, you don’t get that upset over herbology! She’s a little genius, I don’t think she has ever struggled since the first year, I won’t believe she is struggling with some stupid plants”.

James and Remus shared a look. Sirius didn’t usually care that much about anyone apart from them. They suddenly realised that they couldn’t loose you, not when Sirius was already going through so much with his family, he would simply break.

“You’re right Sirius. If you’ve checked, she has to eat. It’s a miracle she hasn’t fainted yet”

“Tomorrow morning. We have potions together, right? We’re gonna talk to her, and we’re gonna fix… whatever this is.”

Except you didn’t make it to potions. You were late, the night before you’re brain just shut down, and you woke up on Monday evening, skipping a day of class and, most importantly, three meals. This unplanned fast was getting ridiculous, even to your own eyes.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N” Emmeline was trying to wake you up. “I brought you some food. I don’t know why you’re so upset, I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need to talk to someone, or if you just want somebody to be there for you.”

You sighed. She was the only friend that stuck with you since the first year, and she was an angel; always there for you, always ready to listen and give advice, but you just couldn’t manage to talk about what was going on in your head.

“Thanks Em” You smiled, then she exited the room, and you looked at the plate. You ate something, but you were just too exhausted to finish everything.

You didn’t actually go to class since Thursday.

Truth is, you felt like a coward. You didn’t want to face the boys, too afraid of what they would think of you, of what they would say to you, and every day it got worse. You knew that they thought you were avoiding them, and you weren’t even sure why you were doing so, but every time you tried to get up and go outside, you just couldn’t.

Each day, Em would bring you something to eat, you just took a bite of everything, not really finishing the food you were given. Everyday, Em would tell you about how the marauders were looking differently, and how they stared at them throughout the meals, and you really felt guilty.

So, even though you skipped breakfast, having woken up late, you decided to go to class and to talk to the guys, at least to try to. You didn’t want to end something that didn’t even have the chance to start just because you were overthinking.

You were walking to the Great Hall when all of the sudden your vision became blurry, Em was telling you something about the upcoming herbology test, when every sound became sort of muffled, and your head suddenly felt so heavy, and now your legs weren’t cooperating anymore, and then you just fainted.

The marauders, which were catching up to you in the corridors, saw you falling to the ground, and suddenly they didn’t give a fuck about your brother anymore. He wasn’t there to help you anyways.

“Y/N!” Sirius rushed to you, Em staring at him with wide eyes.

Remus was quick to raise your legs in the air, while Sirius promptly made sure that the position wasn’t suddenly flashing the whole student body, while making sure you were smelling his strong cologne, putting your wrist under your nose. James was running to Madam Pomfrey.

Little by little, you started to gain consciousness. You didn’t make sense of the situation at first, so you just nuzzled into Sirius touch.

“Love, have I ever told you that I love your cologne? It smells really great, I want to bathe in it” You looked up at him dreamily. He chuckled.

“Well, sweetheart, thank you. You could have told me so without having to faint, giving me an heart attack.”

And then you realised the position in which you were in. You were in the middle of the corridor.

The students were all looking at you.

Em and Aurora were looking really funny, Em with her eyes open wide, Aurora practically fuming.

But Remus didn’t give you the time to think about this, hauling you in his shoulder and rushing to the infirmary.

They hauled you on a hospital bed, James and Poppy waiting for you.

“Well, what happened?” You tried to speak, but the boys didn’t let you.

“She fainted in the middle of the corridor. She hasn’t been eating for five days” You looked down, embarrassed. How did they know?

“I actually did eat a little” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“I think we have a diagnosis. You’re a smart girl, you should know better than to starve yourself. If you feel like it, I think you should go have lunch. I don’t think we have to conduct further examinations, if you don’t have anything else to tell me?”

You shook your head.

“Is it okay if I carry you, darling?” James looked down at you softly. You blushed, nodding.

So he carried you, and you made your grand entrance: James carried you in his arms bridal style, Remus and Sirius walking at your sides. You could hear the students gasping, a buzz suddenly starting to raise in the common room.

The boys ignored it, sitting you next to them, their friends eager to get to know you.

“So you are the famous Y/N!” Peter was smiling at you, you blushed.

“How do” You cleared your voice. “How do you know my name?”

The boys and their friends started laughing. “How could we not know your name? They’re talking about you 24/7!”

“You should have seen Sirius this weekend, he was so tense that we barely could stop him from lashing out on a poor first year” Lily was smiling, you looked over at Sirius, who was feigning ignorance.

Remus filled your plate with mashed potatoes, some kind of meat, lots and lots of veggies and definitely too much bread.

“Eat. First you eat, then you talk. Please?” You nodded, feeling slightly ashamed, he looked really concerned, they all did.

“So anyways, how did you guys meet? And, most importantly, how come an angel like you got herself tangled up with them”

James shoved lightly Regulus, who was grinning, while you nearly choked on your food.

“Leave the poor girl alone, will you? You already know everything about how they met her, her eyes were sparkling in the sun and she had this-“ At this, they all said in unison “pink sundress flowing lightly and her hair were put in a perfect ponytail”

You could feel your ears burning, the guys all smiling at your shyness.