#i didn’t really have to tell her that the dude tried to burn our apartment down during a certain rampage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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what he lost | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 5.4K

⇝ rating: for everyone.

⇝ genre: pro hero!au, exes!au, angst.

⇝ summary: back then; he was young, dumb and a little too prideful, taking your love for granted. now, years down the line he wonders if he’ll ever stand a chance in getting you back or the one in which katsuki bakugou grew up a little too late.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy angst, no happy ending, mentions of toxic relationships, emotional distress, mentions of violence ( explosions, fight scenes, knives, blood ) and cursing all around.

⇝ author’s note(s): greetings everyone!! i hope you’re all doing well, today’s one-shot is a request from @killakatsuki, i know you wanted a happy ending but i got a little ahead of myself eee !! anyways thank you all for 400+ followers, i love you all :(

⇝ masterlist | requests

“katsuki bakugou if you leave me right now, please... please don’t come back.”

bakugou had always hated that, he thought, casting his gaze elsewhere in the room. he always hated how you cried when you were angry, red hot tears stinging a pathway down the apples of your usually glowing cheeks.

he couldn’t quite place the reasoning as to why. maybe it was because you rarely ever found yourself angry or perhaps it was how pathetic you looked when your bottom lip wobbled and your harsh words were laced with watery sobs.

or maybe it was because he didn’t want to feel sorry for you, didn’t want to comfort you when he was too prideful to admit that you were right. “whatever, don’t tell me what the fuck to do.” he spits, eyes and voice full of a venom he barely ever uses against you. he watches with a scarlet gaze as you falter, as if a knife has dug deep into your heart and cut you all up but bakugou only scoffs and continues to pack his side kick costume into the duffle bag he’s got on your shared bed.

every fibre of his being is tell him to reach out for you and apologise, he knows that he’s wrong. keeping his late night shifts from you, working extra hours— of course you were going to worry but he needed you to understand that being a hero was his dream above all else. the last thing he needed was a distraction like you.

something in you changed that night, both of you. as the rain hit hard on the roof of your shared apartment, even as you took his things and threw them out into the hall and even as you gave him one last chance on the doorstep. “you can leave now and not comeback or you can stay and we’ll talk this through—“ your eyes spoke to him in a silent plead, asking him if he would really give up the life that you’d built for lies and a better job?

but you knew the answer already.

“like i said,” katsuki rolled his eyes as knowing sobs wracked your body. “i never needed you anyways.”

you slammed the door before he could walk away and forget the tears in your eyes.

six years later and katsuki is pissed.

he’d been irritable since this morning when his interns fucked up the paperwork at his agency— leaving him to clean it up and then when his assistant brought him the wrong coffee and forgot to notify him of the pro hero meeting he was currently attending right at this very minute.

of course heroes of all different calibers were present; including none other than the number two, shoto todoroki, who was in charge of directing this week’s patrol missions but something about that only grinds the explosive pro’s gears even more. although, he could see himself being even more pissed if the number one; deku had shown his face instead of being away on an overseas mission. the schedule for this week’s patrol sits heavily in bakugou’s hand and he almost wants to burn it to pieces just at the thought of working with his future partner.

‘yn ln.’

the sight of your name printed in block capitals next to his has the ash blonde reeling, glancing up to send a blazing scowl towards shoto. he feels set up, as if the half hot, half cold bastard is dangling you right in front of him— its not like todoroki doesn’t know the history that sits between bakugou and yourself, after all, he had been the friend you’d ran off to during the fight that ended your five year relationship.

it’s like todoroki had a sixth sense because by the time he’d finish announcing the pair ups, he’d tiredly caught wind of katsuki’s heated stare. “bakugou—“

“i wanna fuckin’ switch, icyhot.”

“you can’t.”

bakugou stands from his seat next to kirishima ( who only looks apologetically at his colleagues ), annoyance rippling through his veins as he approaches the taller male. “why the fuck not?” he growls, small explosions sparking in the palms of his sweaty hands ( he was undeniably nervous because of the impending patrol ) the group of heroes simultaneously sigh— having been used to the explosive pro’s usual outbursts.

todoroki sighs, running his cooler hand over his face. “because the pairs have been matched up by quirk and strength, on top of that they were done in advance so if you really have a problem with it then i suggest you take it up with the number one—“ the dual quirked hero falls silent, a triumphant smirk appearing on his lips as red riot pulls his friend away before it’s too late.

“dude, you can’t just go blowing people up!” the red head scolds beneath bakugou’s sailor mouth, wrestling him over to the couch.

katsuki feels defeated, there’s no way to get out of this situation. he’s done his best these last few years to avoid you like the plague. it was somewhat easy, considering you were lower in the ranks compared to him, so there wasn’t much time to interact anyway. but katsuki hated the fact that he had always thought you would fall below him.

nonetheless; he took to switching event time tables around, rejecting hang outs with his old high school friends... all to avoid you, and now that he had to see you face to face, he wasn’t sure how to react. would you still hate him? how did you feel about working with him?

there’s not much time to dwell on the thought for kirishima is already patting his back and guiding him out of the meeting as it ends, the promise of drinks at an ‘heroes only bar’ hanging in the air.

“you’re so handsome, ground zero ! thank you for protecting japan !”

bakugou can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat at the words from the sickly sweet fan, so he gives a nonchalant grunt in response as he finishes up his signature on her notebook before continuing his march to your hero agency. it’s been a few days since the meeting between the pro heroes and all the number three wants is to make it to your agency without being fawned over by more obsessive fans.

he gives the fan a casual wave, ignoring the look of disappointment on her face— either she was expecting his number or for him to grow bashful under her flurry of compliments but katsuki was never one for fan service.

he hated fans that expected something from him, ones who wanted more than a casual chat with their favourite pro hero but he wouldn’t let them in. they didn’t want the intimate, vulnerable sides of katsuki bakugou like you had— maybe that made the ash blonde stuck on you.

yn ln was the only girl in his life who had tried to understand the many layers of the hot headed hero, you saw past his aggressive nature and touched the deepest parts of his soul…parts that you longed to love and keep safe.

you’d loved him for who he was below the surface, not for the money and fame he had come to amass as number three in the ranks.

behind scarlet eyes are the best moments of the hero’s life, each shared with you. katsuki had took for granted the seconds you had been with him, even from the very start— he didn’t care for the way that you held him after he’d been kidnapped, clinging onto him like he’d disappear or would never return to your arms, he should have cherished the tears of worry you shed for him too but katsuki was too prideful at the time.

too full of himself even with his raging nightmares that you had managed to soothe.

you’d comforted him after he’d failed the licensing exams, promised him he’d still get to be the greatest hero of all time and still, bakugou had cared for none of this. now that he’d thought about it, he hadn’t been good to you, he didn’t know how you’d dealt with they way he undermined your quirk and doubted your ability to protect him when he should have been the one to protect you.

your love was wasted on him, and for that bakugou needed to apologise.

hands in his pockets, katsuki’s mind could have been said to be away with the fairies, haunted by the night he came home with a half hearted apology on his lips to an empty apartment and a note from you. something about staying with the icyhot bastard and not to contact you.

that is until he collided with the back of someone in the crowd. “hey!” he’s quick to growl out to the figure, a slight snarl to the words leaving his mouth. “watch where you’re going, shitty extra—“

“ah, katsuki! nice to see you haven’t changed,” your voice sends shivers down the blonde’s spine, bright red eyes focusing on you and only you. your smile is bright, dazzling under the hot japan sun and even if katsuki hadn’t changed, you certainly had— your pretty eyes he used to get lost in, he used to watch glimmer with tears now hold a different kind of light, they greyish hue that dulled you over your time with him had finally cleared.

you looked healthy, happier and bakugou realises how much your relationship must’ve wore you down.

he feels like he doesn’t deserve the grin that you give him; the one you would save just for him in the early mornings you’d spent together back when you were dating. maybe that makes his heart jumps out of his chest.

“y-yn— “

he hadn’t prepared himself for your sweet, airy giggle that fills the space between you. “ground zero getting shy on me now? don’t tell me you forgot about our shift today, did’ya?”

“n-no, ‘course not, dumbass.” fuck, katsuki’s heart thumps against his ribcage so loud that he’s afraid you might hear it with the little distance between you. since when did you make him nervous? despite the pet name, you still give him a laugh as a flicker of fondness twinges in your bright eyes.

it’s quickly replaced when you blink it away, beckoning ground zero into your hero offices. “nice to see that sailor’s mouth hasn’t changed either ,” you mumble more so to yourself than him. bakugou walks a few paces behind you while you explain to him that you have to finish assigning your sidekicks and interns a few low level missions before you can head off for the day.

the group of young heroes are excitable, seemingly loving the opportunity to work with you— their chatter is loud but it gives katsuki time to drink you in.

crimson eyes travel over your form while you talk— your hero costume has changed a lot since your U.A and sidekick days.

you’d interned under the number two at the time, hawks, thus leading you to have become one of his most trusted sidekicks. no doubt; his skill level had not only improved your abilities, how you controlled your quirk but your costume as well.

your quirk was known as lullaby, if you could sing a tune in the right pitch to certain groups of people, it allowed you control over the abilities and to put them to sleep. this obviously however meant you were poor at short distance attacks— something bakugou always teased you for, so he was excited to see how you’d improved.

your suit had a visor that allowed you to amplify your quirk, while patterns of the night sky dressed your body— paying homage to your hero name ‘nightsky’.

katsuki felt bad to imprinting the image of your skin tight, midnight blue suit into his mind but back when he had known you like you were his, your costume hadn’t been nearly as advanced as this.

snapping fingers pull him from his thoughts before they can get too hazy.

“eyes are up here, explosion boy.”

katsuki’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, an angry red to rival his gemstone eyes spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. “i wasn’t staring.” he tries his best to defend himself, but your knowing look tells him that you’ve caught him red handed.

“of course you weren’t, sidekicks left about ten minutes ago so we can head out now—unless you want to keep glaring daggers at my boobs, katsu.” you’re teasing him, voice dripping like honey off of a spoon as you waltz back out onto the streets of japan and leave a bewildered ground zero behind you.

you’ve changed so much since your relationship ended with bakugou, you’re stronger, a vixen and more confident in yourself.

and he hates knowing that he’s the one that kept you down all this time.

patrol remains uneventful even as the afternoon goes on and the stress of japan begin to fill with citizens for the oncoming rush hour.

the lack of action has lead your conversation to die within the wind and leaves katsuki alone with his thoughts for the time being— you only really speak when you catch the blonde staring you down or when he accidentally walks into something ( highly unusual for him ) but he enjoys the seconds where your teasing voice tickles the tips of his ears and you smile so wide his own lips pull into somewhat of a grin.

bakugou doesn’t know why he’s so quiet, not when the storm in his mind brews all the words he should have said to you years ago. the apologies, the grateful thanks that you deserved; none of these could fall from his tongue.

he liked to say he never had the opportunity, which was partly true you were both up and coming herores yes, but you had damn well made sure you’d never have to encounter bakugou unless the situation required it. and it seemed, that years down the line, he was still doing the same.

the thought alone cause nerves to choke him from the inside out, building up in his throat until all he can do is grunt in frustration— kicking an empty can along the road you’re currently walking down.

“that’s unlike you,” your chuckle cuts through the thick fog of katsuki’s mind, drawing deep red eyes towards your frame. you walk in front of him now, arms folded behind your head while you step backwards— the sight almost comical to anyone passing by. bakugou must look just as shocked because some how he manages to pull the cutest snort from you, even as his face morphs into a snarl and he marches forward to fall into pace with your steps. your eyes dazzle with your next words. “the great katsuki bakugou, quiet? never thought i’d see the day.”

you’ve always been able to read him like an open book, seeing right through the front he puts on. “i haven’t changed.” he grunts through his teeth.

katsuki stops walking when you do, now standing a breaths width away from you. electricity jumps between you both, static forming in the finger tips that just barely brush against bakugou’s arm.

your eyes spell it out for him, clear as day, as you finally reach out to touch him. His own close at the brief gesture, the pain from having lost you blooming across his chest.

“you did.” you breathe out, the warmth of your soft voice making katsuki’s eyes screw shut.

he could never get a lie past you.

“we both did.”

vermillion eyes open, trying to seek you out in the light of the day as bakugou wills and prays that he can say what he needs to right now, to get you back but he doesn’t have the chance as an explosion cuts through the building on your left.

bakugou manages to wrap his arms around you, shielding you from the blast before you hit the ground. the impulse sends you both rolling down the street, small grunts escaping you until you roll to a halt and end up on top of katsuki— straddling him.

dust and debris surrounds the pair of you, creating a thick smog in the air as sirens and screams sound off in the distance. the explosive hero groans in pain— no doubt with a litter of bruises forming under his suit but he has no time to register the sting properly before he’s noticing you on top of him, smirk on your face, devilish glint to your eye.

you’ve been waiting for some action all day.

you’re gone in the blink of an eye, so you must have a plan. katsuki remembers from high school that you made up for strategy where you once lacked in strength, so it’s no surprise to him that you’re already on the move. meanwhile; you manage to slide undetected through the smoke, moving fast to take out the low level criminals.

it’s only a robbery, but the explosion could have caused more casualties than you would have liked. you trust that bakugou can take care of the civilians and bring them out of harms way as you do your best o sus out the ringleader.

the grey tinted fog that sweeps over the area allows you both to work quickly; neither of you need to say anything, for one it would give away your position and secondly— there’s an underlying trust in one another that the two of you had built up when you worked together while dating.

bakugou, through his end, tackles down the small group of criminals after clearing the area and making sure no one was hurt. emergency services had been alerted and were already on their way, all there was now, was to predict your next movements and follow your lead. he’d never liked being bossed about, but the look in your eye made him believe you knew what you were doing.

you were right, you’d both changed. you might as well have been a better hero than him.

the ash blonde follows the trail of unconscious wannabe villains to your whereabouts, he only knows that they’re unconscious because of your ability to put people to sleep with your quirk— all you had to do was get close to them, which wouldn’t have been hard as katsuki knew first hand that these guys’ quirks weren’t shit.

“it’s almost funny, how you thought you could pull a stunt like this on a day when all of japan’s biggest heroes are in one place,” bakugou’s ears pick up on you teasing the criminal leader with that smooth chocolate voice and he follows it deeper into the air that’s heavy with debris— glad you were able to find him before the smoke cleared. “even with the number one out of town, tsk, you should have known better…”

the hot headed pro spots you, holding the hooded ringleader in a choke hold with only your thighs as you sit on his shoulders— eyes wide with victory.

he recognises the dip in your voice as you adjust your tone to put the guy to sleep and call it a day. you’re powerful, a great pro and bakugou watches with awe while you get ready to take this guy down once and for all.

“so cocky, nightsky— why do you think we chose attack the street you were on?” the guy spits through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to succumb to your lullaby of a voice.

brows furrowing, you decide not to dwell on the criminal’s words before leaning down to whisper. “sleep...” but katsuki’s body comes alive with fear as the villain wannabe jams a blade into your thigh, causing your grip on him to loosen enough for him to throw you to the floor and put a boot to your throat. “oh miss nightsky, you really rely too much on your quirk and not enough on your senses. hmm, i think it’s time we say goodnight, don’t you?” the guy chuckles while you squirm under his foot— the need for air burning sharply at your lungs.

bakugou, who’s remained hidden this entire time feels himself snap— a heavy explosion loading up behind his gauntlets while he launches himself right into the scene. he won’t let you struggle for your life, not on his watch. “GET YOUR FILTHY FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF OF HER!”

he reaches the criminal just before your eyes roll back into your head, an explosive right hook colliding with their cheek and sending them flying down the street.

the ash blonde reaches down to pull you up into his chest, that very same one heaving with laboured breaths; you’re shaking but it’s nothing you can’t handle even with the red lines at your throat.

“you good?”

“better, thanks to you.”

there’s a look that you wear right now, one that katsuki recognises from years of training and running into fights with you— you want to do the move. he nods at you, vermillion eyes lighting up with a bright fire while you grip onto ground zero’s wrists.

just as the villain stands, you kick your feet off the ground and in the meantime bakugou begins to twirl you in circular motions until you’ve built up enough momentum for him to throw you towards the criminal.

you collide with his back foot first, knocking him to the ground as your eyes glow a bright white. “i said, go the fuck to sleep.”

the criminal drops to sleep and you roll to the ground after taking him out. you smile to yourself at the familiar wail of sirens in the background but don’t bother to make an effort to stand up, letting the exhaustion, pain from the wound in your thigh and bruises at your neck finally flood your body.

sitting beside you, bakugou smirks and holds a fist out to you. “still got it,” he gestures between the pair of you, the same signature move you’ve been doing since high school having worked successfully once again.

“still got it.” you look up to the now clear sky, fist bumping bakugou right back.

he’s going to do it, he thinks, he’s going to apologise.

after everything you and bakugou had been through, something in his chest was relieved to know that you didn’t hate him, something in him is lead to believe that you’re going to give him another chance.

katsuki watches you now, an attendant from the paramedics that you called working on patching up the gash in your thigh while you rub a salve into your neck.

despite the pain you must be in; you’re still glowing, still smiling even when fans ask you for autographs or tell you how brave you were during the fight. you’re so genuine, such a ray of sunshine in the world and bakugou can feel himself falling for you all over again.

“Is that all mr. ground zero, sir?” an officer asks, taking down notes for the report about the incident. the hero nods, waving the kid off after giving them all of the details from today. they thank him and he finds himself marching over to you almost immediately, now that you’re all bandaged up.

“walking already, ln? are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

you beam up at the ash blonde, hopping out of the back of the ambulance and rubbing at the tear in your hero costume where the cut is. “it’s good, stings a little but i’ve seen worse on you,” you comment to him, beginning your stride back to your agency.

“and who’s fault is that, dumbass?” a genuine laughter bubbles in bakugou’s throat, albeit raspy, its not a foreign sound to your ears and it makes you laugh along with him.

he knows you’re referencing the many times you’d kicked hiss ass when sparring from high school to your side kick days. back then you‘d have traced every scar that littered his pretty body and told him how much you loved him.

katsuki aids you while you head back to the nightsky agency, you insist that you don’t need help to walk but you’re limping and the explosive pro hero is stubborn as hell— he’s not about to let you get hurt again, even if its physically and not mentally like he had done to you before.

with the lighter mood, memories flitter between you both— you mention how katsuki used to love his food so spicy you would cry and he brings up the time you had given him and kirishima a bout of food poisoning when you’d come up with an alternative to the latter’s cooking. the stories don’t seem to end even as you lean into him more; trusting him again.

“about what i said earlier…” you begin after finally coming to a halt outside your agency building, a scarlet gaze full of fondness lands on you. you turn to face him with the softest of smiles, half chewing on your bottom lip— something he knew you did when you were nervous. “you’re different, to how…how you were back then and it’s good, katsuki you’re so good…”

there’s a breath of silence, only filled by the quiet hum of city traffic where people are travelling to and from home. “i’m glad i had time to become good,” bakugou offers, forgoing the words ‘for you’ and pausing instead. “i regret who i was back then, with you… thought it made you hate me and that you wouldn’t fuckin’ work with me today.”

you shake your head, breaking contact with bakugou to paw at the stupid tears preparing to make their way down your cheeks. “i-i did hate you for a while, after everything…but we were young and dumb and—“ you freeze as the ash blonde wipes a stray tear from your cheek, you not having realised that it’d escaped. “and i’m so thankful to have met you, to have shared a love with you, you taught me so much and that i could never hate you for.”

“yn...i—“ i love you. i’m sorry. i should have loved you better. the words are there, the ones that katsuki always told himself he would say to you if he had the chance but he finds himself frozen and unable to speak. why? why now? when the perfect chance sat right in front of him, the perfect time for him to make it up to you.

to start over.

“yes, katsuki?”

to get you back.

“yn i’m sorry—“

“—guess who?”

a sing song voice full of positivity bursts through the moment while a pair of hands clasp their way over your pretty eyes and hide them away from the world.

bakugou instantly recognises the voice as belonging to none other than his childhood rival and number one pro hero, deku. he seems to have changed— grown taller, green hair shaved at the sides for an undercut.

the ash blonde isn’t very sure what else has changed, but then again they hadn’t seen much of each other as sidekicks, working under different agencies with different missions.

it was only as they started competing for the top ranks that they started to run the same circles— but bakugou had no idea how you would’ve come to know deku since the blonde hated him and you were dating each other for most of that time.

katsuki is just about to tell the green haired idiot to ‘fuck the fuck off’ for ruining his moment when you do the unexpected.

you clasp your hands over midoriya’s, cheeky smile gracing your lips as you attempt to pull them away from your face. “let me think, could it be? izuku midoriya?” relenting to your cheery voice— deku pulls away from you, hands falling to grip your waist sweetly. possesively. horror flashes behind bakugou’s raging red eyes. you turn in his rival’s strong arms, smiling so hard that it delves deep into the apples of your cheeks. “izu ! when did you get back? i thought you wouldn’t make it in time for today…”

“flew in this morning doll, i wanted to surprise you—“ the number one beams down at you and bakugou’s world crumbles when you cut him off while pressing a chaste kiss to deku’s lips right in front of his eyes.

this couldn’t be happening...since when were you and the damn nerd a thing? why didn’t he realise? why didn’t he grow up and try and get you back sooner?

he has no choice but to sit and stare, a dark cloud now sitting over his shattered heart.

all the while, you’re giggling into deku’s lips, fumbling over his hands that pinch at your sides just to get you to gasp enough for him to kiss you more. the painful ( well, only for the explosive pro ) lip lock ends when you both come up for air and your eyes land on your ex boyfriend.

“ah, katsuki ! you remember deku right? wait that’s a dumb question you were literally childhood friends—“ you start to ramble, mind getting away from you and katsuki barely registers anything that leaves your lips. his crimson eyes lock with the emerald ones that stare right back at him and hurt swells in his chest.

to deku, he must look like a kicked puppy. a weakling. a loser.

all the things he had labelled izuku midoriya when they were kids.

when bakugou tunes back into your excited rambling, his heart cracks even more in his chest. “this green giant flew all the way in from overseas to come home for wedding planning ! can you believe it?” the answer to your question is an obvious no.

he had no idea that you had been seeing the number one, let alone being engaged to him. the hot headed hero freezes in his spot when you reach down the chest of your hero costume to pull out a silver necklace.

on the end of it, an engagement ring with a tiny emerald in it’s centre.

katsuki bakugou feels sick, bile rising up in his throat. he’d really lost you. really. “...pretty thing that is, congratulations.” he mentions blankly, eyes trained on midoriya once again. you don’t notice, but deku does and bakugou hates the sympathetic, apologetic look that the fucking nerd gives him.

“mhm ! izu put it on a necklace for me because, well you know, i’m clumsy and didn’t want to lose the thing,”

you’re so clueless that it hurts, burning katsuki from the inside out. that should be him. it should be his arms around you, his lips on yours, his engagement ring on that fucking necklace. not deku’s, not anyone’s. the green headed hero beside you seems to notice the distress ebbing away at your ex and tilts your head up to look at him. “doll, why don’t you head inside and change into something more comfy real quick? we’ve got cake tasting in an hour…”

the tail end of deku’s words are drowned out by your happily animated squeal and with a quick nod you press a kiss to his freckled cheek and bounce inside— missing the way bakugou winces at your display of affection.

it’s quiet despite the bustling sounds of the city but neither if them know what to say, even as the minutes pass.

bakugou knows that you’d be better off with deku, he would treat you right and give you the love that you deserved all along. but that didn’t make it any less painful.

“kacchan, look...“ the number one says eventually, green eyes swirling with guilt. “i’m sorry—“

the blonde shakes his head, spitting his words out through gritted teeth. “don’t...just,” fuck, it hurts to breathe. “just…take care of her for me, you got that deku?”

“yeah, of course…”

the pair of childhood rivals don’t have much time to speak after that, for you’re already bounding out of your agency wearing a comfortable mint green summer dress and pair of red sneakers to rival deku’s, despite the thick bandage to your thigh.

“ready to go?” you ask your fiancé, face as warm and as bright as it had once been when you used to look at bakugou. izuku nods, delight dancing in his eyes despite the nervous chew to his bottom lip, before letting you turn to your ex lover. “great ! well, see you around kasuki, don’t be a stranger ! we’ve got to catch up again sometime, alright?”

you link arms with izuku midoriya, your fiancé, after that—walking away and leaving ground zero in the dust.

he doesn’t know how long he stands there for, heart in his hands even while he comes to the realisation that you hadn’t gone to todoroki that night when you’d left. no, you’d only told him that so it hurt a little less when he found out midoriya had been the one to look after you. you’d lied because you’d loved him.

you lie because you love him.

and it was only now that katsuki bakugou had realised what he’d lost.

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years ago

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The Island | KTH (Nine)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) mentions of sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, cum eating, choking.

Notes: Sorry it’s late! But here is chapter 9! Next chapter things start to get interesting again hehe. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr @siredsong

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“Kim Taehyung, huh?” Ellie circles around the man like a god damn vulture. She inspects him carefully, her eyes raking his body over and over. “Yeah.” She stops, looks him up and down one more time and nods her head approvingly. “He’s hot as fuck.”

“Ellie…” you whine, “Can you please at least try to act normal?”

Ellie brings her cigarette to her lips, inhaling the poison before blowing it out. “Nah.”

Taehyung looks at you with wide eyes, his amused smile growing wide and taking over his face. His eyes then meet your sisters and he bows his head slightly and smirks to himself.

“Nice to meet you Ellie.” He gets out before you can say anything else.

“Mom’s going to hate this, you know?” Ellie takes another drag of her cigarette, “Going to Korea for 3 weeks? Taking a leave of absence from work? Dude going to another fucking country, girl you are crazy.” Ellie laughs, but she approves.

“Why do I even have to tell her?” you can’t help but pout. You admit your mother can be…something else.

“Are you serious y/n?” Ellie looks at you with pinched brows, “You went missing for 8 months and now you want to disappear for another 3 weeks? Without her knowing? Are you trying to kill her?”

“I guess you have a point—”

“—I’m meeting your parents, y/n.” Taehyung cuts in, walking closer to your side. You three are standing outside your apartment building where you two met Ellie. It’s the morning of Taehyung’s flight but he is missing it.

“You are what now?” you ask totally off guard.

“Ellie can you set up a time and place for us to meet them? I’m afraid y/n will try to make an excuse.” He sighs out, “Please.”

Ellie raises a brow, impressed at how straight forward Taehyung seems to be. She pulls out her phone and dials for your dad.

“Taehyung…” you look over at him and he only stares at you with hard eyes. He’s mad at you. As he should be, you think.

“I want to meet them, I think it is… important.” He breathes out, “Don’t you?”

You nibble on your lips as you think, you even mumble some nonsense Taehyung can’t understand before you finally nod your head.

“Okay.” You agree shyly, “If you want to.”

“You realize you will be meeting my parents too, right?” Taehyung walks closer to you, “And all of my friends.”

“What? Even Hana?” You snap, “Joy.”

“y/n…” Taehyung warns in a low voice. “Don’t be that way.”

“Don’t be that way?” You whisper shout, trying to keep your voice somewhat down so Ellie can’t hear you as well as she has her phone to her ear.

“Don’t be that way? You fucked another girl, Taehyung.”

“Is that fair, y/n? You had no intention of ever talking to me again.” Taehyung bites, “You are being so fucking unfair.” His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to calm down. “Fuck.”

Your eyes look up and you scan the sky. It’s cloudy today, almost looks like it could rain but it probably won’t. It just tricks you into thinking it might, kind of feels like your mood.

“Trouble in paradise already?” Ellie brings the phone down a bit to speak to you two. “Dad isn’t answering, I’ll try mom.” She says, bringing the phone back to her ear.

You huff out a short, frustrated breath as you nod your head towards your sister. You can’t even look at Taehyung right now, you feel betrayed over Hana but also you feel guilty because he is right. You are being so fucking unfair. And also this begs the question…did you have no intention of ever talking to him again?

You push that thought away as you stare at your sister, watching her expectantly as she waits for your mom to answer the phone.

“y/n.” Taehyung finally opens his eyes and gazes down at you, “Follow me.”

“Taehyung, no—”

“Now.” His voice expresses the deepest parts of the sea, the depth so intimidating. Your eyes slide to the side as you release a few shaky breaths. You mumble a weak ‘okay’ and follow him a few feet to the side, walking towards the stairs to your apartment building.

“Let’s try to get along.” He sighs, his hands at his sides until he’s reaching up to drag a hand down his tired face. “For both our sake’s.”

“Are you forcing yourself to be nice to me?” you ask, a bite in your tone and Taehyung looks down at you with his cold, intimidating stare.

“Mostly.” He comments plainly and you feel your heart pinch.

“Why even bother? Why force yourself if you hate me?” You find the courage to look into his eyes and he narrows his at you.

“I don’t hate you. I’m fucking pissed at you.” He begins, “I’m allowed to be hurt and act accordingly.” He breathes out heavily, “Don’t you think?” he challenges you.

“Okay, okay.” You roll your eyes. “I-“

“Don’t get a fucking attitude either, I’m the one who is mad here.” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest. “If I were you I would be working on your apologies.”

You feel like a child being scolded and it infuriates you. He is treating you like a god damn kid and you can’t help but feel like you probably deserve it.

“Okay, Taehyung.” You slump your shoulders slightly, “I understand…”

Taehyung’s hand finds itself in your hair, his fingers sliding down to play with the ends.

“Good girl.” He praises with a smug smile.

You are upset but hearing him call you a good girl has your stomach doing flips. You two have barely touched the other since you have seen him, he has kept his distance and you are too nervous to make the first move. Last night he slept on your couch…yeah, he didn’t even want to sleep in the same bed as you. At least he stayed with you though and not that dingy hotel.

You can’t help but feel like the miles your home and his home had you apart feels like nothing compared to the distance between you two now. He says he loves you and wants to make this work but he can barely look at you and it is painfully obvious. He’s hurt, so hurt. He isn’t being shy about how hurt and disappointed he is and it’s hard to swallow.

Taehyung hasn’t made many attempts to be closer to you, in fact, it seems like he is going out of his way to not be close to you. Which only causes you to sink deeper and deeper into your hole of self-pity. Why did he say he wants this to work yet he is acting the way he is?

“I don’t hate you. I’m fucking pissed at you.” He begins, “I’m allowed to be hurt and act accordingly.” He breathes out heavily, “Don’t you think?”

Right. He has every right to be acting the way he is. He is allowed to be hurt and you shouldn’t turn this around to make yourself the victim here, when it’s clear here on who should be upset.

But the thought of Taehyung sleeping with someone who isn’t you makes you fucking furious but also depressed as hell. He couldn’t last 6 months without sticking his dick in someone else?

Then you remember that in his mind you had no intention of ever talking or seeing him again. Truthfully, you don’t know if he is wrong about that. It’s possible you really weren’t ever going to reach out. You’re the worst.

You don’t even know what Taehyung went through while being without you but the empty look in his dark, chocolate eyes tells you it was not pretty. He hasn’t opened up about it but it’s not like you two really have found the time or space to discuss. You have to respect the fact that he wants space, that he wants distance, that he wants to feel his emotions even if they are negative. He’s allowed to feel his emotions, y/n.

“Mom said her and dad can meet us down town at that one restaurant you like y/n…with the pretty drapes.” Ellie walks up to you and Taehyung. “They’ll be here this evening. Mom and dad are excited to meet you Taehyung.”

“Ah, really?” Taehyung asks Ellie while his gaze remains on you. “Me too.”

Ellie looks between you two and awkwardly nods her head. “Okay, I should get going but I will see you guys this evening.”

“Sounds good…” You respond to her, your eyes finally leaving Taehyung’s as you give your attention to you sister. “Send me a text when you are on your way to the restaurant.”

“Will do.” She leans in, hugging you quickly and leaving a kiss on your cheek. “See you two tonight.” She pulls back and faces Taehyung giving him a small wave then she if off to her car leaving you and Taehyung.

“Should we head inside?” you ask quietly, swinging your arms at your sides. “I can make you some pancakes?” you offer shyly and Taehyung frowns. Fucking frowns.

“I kind of ate pancakes almost every day,” He admits, “Oh!” he lights up, “Do you know how to make French toast?”

Your lips curve upward into a small smile, “Yes, Tae. I can make you some French toast, if that’s what you would rather have.”

“Let’s go inside.” He gestures towards the stairs and you follow closely behind him. You two walk down a hall until he is stopped at your front door, you run into his back and stumble back.

“Careful.” He whispers, “Don’t want you falling.” He reaches for the knob and opens the door, walking inside. You follow him, closing the door behind you and taking your shoes off.

“I knew yours would taste even better. You just have a way with breakfast food, did you know that?” Taehyung stuffs his face with another slice of the French toast you whipped up. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him, he looks so invested in this last piece of French toast like he wants to take his time with it so it’ll never end.

“Hey, my cooking elsewhere has improved!” you whine.

“When we get to Korea,” Taehyung begins, his eyes finding yours. “I want to show you some dishes I like and maybe we can learn to cook them together.”

“Mine will never be as good as your moms, let’s get that out there right now.” You laugh and Taehyung nods his head like he agrees with you, you playfully swat his arm across the table.

“But yours can be second best. Even if you aren’t any good, I’ll still eat it.” He grins at you and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll eat my bad cooking?”

“Only because I …” Taehyung’s grin gets wiped off his face before he can even finish that sentence. “Because I…love you.” He says more quietly, now avoiding your gaze.

“Right…” you feel your pinching heart want to give up on you, it hurts in your chest.

Taehyung looks at you, he doesn’t really know what to say at this point. He doesn’t know how to act like he wants to. He’s too hurt. But he has to try. Or else he isn’t sure what will come from the two of you.

“I do love you.” He sighs out, “So much.” He reaches across the table and takes your hand in his and he feels himself grow weaker and weaker. “But I do want to take this slow. We have a lot to learn about one another now that we are in reality again. We aren’t in our own bubble like how we were.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and start nibbling nervously. Take it slow how?

“Am I allowed to hug you? Kiss you?” you ask, almost ashamed that you had to ask something like that.

“I’m not feeling all too affectionate…” Taehyung admits softly, “But,” he bites his own lips as he looks down at your hands. “I could take a hug right now.”

You pull your hand away from his and draw it towards your body, you intertwine your fingers together in your lap and sigh out. Your eyes on your hands, your head hanging low.

“Are you sure?” you hear your voice crack and you want to disappear.

“Come here baby.” Taehyung stands from his chair and waits for you expectantly. “Come hug me.” He says, his voice nice and low like a hum.

You slowly rise from your chair and without looking at him you inch closer and closer until he’s pulling you in by the arms.

He hates this almost as much as you do. Maybe even more. He thought he would come here, find you and everything would be light and smooth but instead it has proven to be hard, harder than he imagined.

“Hug me back.” He orders softly, dragging your arms to wrap around his waist. “And hold me tightly.”

You circle your arms around his waist and walk closer until your head is being shoved into his chest. You can smell him like this, his scent filling your nostrils and creating a long, string of memories linked with his scent. Suddenly, you are recalling every moment you spent like this. Every moment you ever inhaled him, every moment you felt his scent linger on your own body.

You feel your chest tightening and your throat burning, you try to speak but you can’t. You’re too lost in the scent of Taehyung, too lost to think, your mind fuzzy and tricking you. It says he wants you, needs you, loves you. And you just don’t know how true that is. You feel your cheeks wet from the few tears that are now slipping out of your eyes, you sniffle into his chest and you feel Taehyung tense beneath you.

“Don’t cry.” He says as soft as he can, “Babe…” he starts rubbing your back, his large hand touching you in a way that makes you start to cry harder.

“y/n.” He then hugs you tighter, pulling you in impossibly close.

“I’m just so…so…sorry…” You choke out, sniffling harder now. Taehyung releases a long breath, closing his eyes as he pulls you in flush against him.

“I know…” he keeps his eyes closed as he thinks on what to say. But he comes up short, he just really doesn’t know what to tell you right now.

“You hate me.” You cry harder into his chest and Taehyung finally shoots his eyes open and begins shaking his head.

“I don’t hate you…” he breathes out, “I told you already. I’m just upset. And it’s going to take some time—”

“How much time?”

“y/n, I don’t know.” He bunches the material of your shirt in his hands as he tries to calm his frustrations. “I’m hurt. You really didn’t…you really were going to never talk to me again…like those 8 months we spent together meant nothing to you.”

“That’s not true.” You sob. “I think eventually—”

“When? 10 years from now? You think I would have waited forever?” he mutters.

“Apparently not. You couldn’t even wait 6 months to get your dick wet.” You pull back from him, your eyes puffy from the tears.

“Really y/n?” He steps back from you, “It didn’t mean anything. I was so fucking broken when that happened.”

“Oh? And her pussy was the glue to put you back?” you snap. You watch as Taehyung grows angry, the scowl on his face almost scaring you.

“You are the most unfair fucking person.” He spits out, “Yeah, I fucked Hana. But we aren’t like that, we’re just friends.”

“I don’t want you to be friends with a girl you’ve fucked!” you admit between bated breathes, “Who says it won’t happen again?”

“Me. I say that.” Taehyung growls, “I have no interest in Hana…I was…I was in a really dark place.” He tries to calm himself, “Really dark place.”

“How dark?” you ask, making him feel interrogated.

“Would go to sleep never wanting to wake up.” He says with a straight face and you feel yourself grow guilty. You did that to him. It’s your fault. How do you make up for that?

“Fuck.” You look down at your feet, “I’m so sorry Tae…”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters to me right now is that you understand I don’t want Hana. I obviously want you. I came all the way here to make this work with you.” He huffs out, his eyes boring holes into the top of your bowing head.

“Tell me you understand or it’s going to be that much more work to make this happen.” Taehyung steps closer to you, reaching for your hand.

“We have a lot to work through y/n. This isn’t the island anymore. This is both of our real lives and we’re intertwining them. At least I want to.” His thumb starts rubbing your skin and you feel yourself grow warm. You finally lift your head and gaze into his dark, dark eyes. He is staring at you with so much intensity that you automatically feel intimidated.

“Tell me you will be patient. Tell me you want this. Fuck, tell me you love me.” Taehyung keeps his deep voice low, but you can hear the frustration throughout his words.

“I love you.” You stumble forward until you are embracing him again. “I love you so much.” You begin to cry again, much more softly this time. “I will do anything to make sure this works Taehyung.”

Taehyung can’t help but smile a little, he places a kiss to the top of your head and he sniffs you. Same shampoo as what you had on the island. He feels his eyes sting a bit, the memories of the island beginning to haunt him.

“Anything?” he whispers and you nod your head frantically.

“Let my mom teach you how to make japchae. Then make it for me.”

“You’ll eat it even if it’s bad?”

“Even if it’s bad.”

~~~~~~~

“Very good to meet you, Taehyung.” Your mother drops her hand from his as she eyes him over. “You really spent every day with our y/n? For 8 months? Aren’t you tired of her?” she half jokes.

“I could never.” He replies smoothly. “And it’s also nice meeting you Mr. y/L/n” Taehyung reaches out to shake your dads hand when your father takes it but pulls him in for a tight hug.

“You took care of y/n all that time…” Your dad hugs Taehyung gratefully, taking a moment before he pulls back. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“She took care of me too.” Taehyung smiles as your dad pulls away from him. “Always made me breakfast.” He teases, stealing a glance at you. You are standing here next to him with an awkward smile on your face.

“It wasn’t much…” you say quietly. “Anyway, we should go get our table.”

“I got it!” Ellie comes up to you four, “Let’s go.”

You all follow Ellie to a table for 6. You guys occupy 5 of those spots, your mother uses the extra chair for her purse. The server sets down your menus and takes out his little notepad to take down your drink orders.

A sweet tea for your mother, a coke for your father, waters for both you and Taehyung and a vodka sprite for your sister. You give her a look of amusement before you stop your server from leaving and ordering your own spiked drink.

“Careful girls.” Your mother warns. “There’s no need to get drunk.”

“Oh its one drink mother.” You sister scoffs. “Plus I think y/n could use it.”

“And why is that?” Your dad suddenly becomes interested in your conversation. “Is everything okay? How is work going? Are you making friends?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” You wave him off, “It’s just…this dinner serves two purposes.” You admit, your eyes darting all across the room.

“Which are?” your mom narrows her eyes at you. “I know one is to meet your little boyfriend. But what’s the other?”

Boyfriend? Is Taehyung your boyfriend? You guys haven’t discussed it. You only said you two will make it work but what all does that mean?

“Well…” you begin to feel small under your mothers gaze. “I am….” You find it hard to gather the words and the courage to finish your sentence. You feel like the lights above you are too bright, too hot and causing you to sweat slightly.

Suddenly, you feel Taehyung’s large hand caressing and squeezing your thigh. Your head whips up to face him and he is already staring at you with a small smile.

“She’s coming back with me to Korea.” Taehyung states while he continues to look at you, finally, he turns his head to face your parents.

Your mother quite literally chokes on her spit, her eyes expanding twice their size as she looks at the two of you. Your dad rubs her back, trying to calm her.

“She’s what now?” You mother coughs out, “I don’t think I heard that right.”

Your sister looks between the four of you with a wide grin on her face.

“Oh mother dearest…” Elli sings out. “I think you did hear that right.”

“You’re …you’re moving to Korea?”

“Yes.” Ellie jumps in but you twist your head to look at her disapprovingly.

“No…no, just going to visit.” You finally find the courage to say. “For three weeks.”

Your mother scrunches her face up, a look of disappointment on her face.

“y/n. You just started a new job. Don’t you think this is rather irresponsible?”

“It’s only for three weeks darling.” Your dad finally says something. “Right y/n?”

You nibble on your bottom lip and nod your head a few times.

“For now.” Taehyung cuts in. His hand continues to rub your thigh and you hate to admit how much feeling his hand on your thigh makes you feel so good.

“Wait.” You snap out of your thoughts, “What do you mean ‘for now’, huh?”

Taehyung looks down at the table, about to respond to you when the server comes back with your drinks.

“Your tea mam…” the server sets down the tea in front of your mother and she barely reacts. She only blinks at you and Taehyung, her face gone pale.

“Yes, Taehyung.” She starts, “What do you mean for now?”

Taehyung opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly. He turns to face you and he awkwardly smiles.

“I feel like that’s something we have to talk about…just me and you.”

“If it’s something just us to discuss then why bring it up in front of my parents?” You grit out nervously.

“Right…sorry.” Taehyung mumbles, he reaches for his water that the server just set down. “You’re in this right?” He asks before taking a sip of his water. “With me?”

You blink at him a few times before glancing at your parents, they look at you with curiosity. Then your eyes find your sisters who is drinking her vodka sprite with a smug smile.

“Yeah y/n.” Ellie takes a few sips. “Are you in this?” Then you feel her kick your foot with hers.

“Y-Yes.” You say, a bit shy. But Taehyung finds himself relaxing.

“Then, for now.” He repeats himself from earlier, “One day we will live together, don’t you think? But don’t worry it’s up for debate where.”

“L-Live together?” you get out awkwardly.

“If you remember correctly y/n, it’s not like we haven’t lived together before.” He squeezes your thigh. “Don’t worry it’s something we will get to…slowly.”

You nod your head in understanding and face your parents. You exhale a deep breath and find your mothers eyes.

“I will be leaving tomorrow for 3 weeks. Taehyung and I…” Your eyes slide to your side where Taehyung is sitting. “We have a lot to work through. I’m sure you can be understanding of our situation.”

“Of course sweetheart.” Your dad smiles at you, but your mother is shaking her head.

“You didn’t even want to reach out to him? You think you can enter a relationship when you didn’t even want to talk to him?” Your mother snaps at you. She crushes the napkin in her fists as she speaks. “You can’t handle this y/n.” she looks at you with cold eyes.

“Mom—”

“She can.” Taehyung cuts in, “She is stronger than you give her credit for Mrs. y/l/n.”

Your mother scoffs at this, she throws her napkin in her lap and shakes her head.

“You don’t know her then. Taehyung.”

You feel yourself grow smaller and smaller as your mother continues to bash you. You try to even your breathing but her words carry weight.

“Jesus Christ, mother.” Ellie cuts in. “Do you even know the first thing there is to know about y/n?”

“I think I know my daughter well enough that when there is the first sign of something not working she runs away.”

“So what?” Taehyung growls. “So I am supposed to abandon her because she has personal shit to work through?”

“Tae…” you mumble weakly, “Let’s just go…”

Your sister finishes her drink and slams it down on the table, she looks at you with eyes on fire.

“Really y/n? Just going to prove her point like that?” Ellie hardens her expression as she stares at you waiting for your reply.

You feel weak. But your sister is right. You can’t let your mother win every time.

“Listen, you can agree or disagree but I am going.” You look your mother right in the eye. “I love him. And we have a lot to work through if we want this.” You say honestly. “So, whether you guys agree or not, I am going.”

“Of course we agree.” Your dad continues to rub your mothers back. “Your mom is just worried about you.”

“I’ll return home in three weeks.” You say confidently until you notice your mother’s eyes glossed over.

“Will you though? I thought I lost you. Now you want to disappear again.” Your mom says quietly. “He’s the reason you were gone for 8 months.” She points at Taehyung. “And now he wants to steal you away again.”

You pinch your brows together and try to breath evenly as your mom’s words sink in. She blames Taehyung for the island?

“It’s not his fault for the island mom…” you look between her and your sister, looking for answers. Ellie just shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, right?” your mother spits out. “Just do what you want y/n.”

“I will?” you say slowly. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

“You leave tomorrow?” Your father asks, still rubbing your mothers back.

“Flight is at 10 am.” You respond, “I promise I will be back.”

“She will come back.” Taehyung says softly, the guilt evident in his voice. “You can trust me to take care of her.”

“Okay, then that’s all settled!” Your dad claps his hands together. “Should we order some food? You kids get what you want, we’re paying tonight.”

~~~~

“Do you want to take a shower…with me?” Your timid voice shakes a little as you ask Taehyung if he wants to you know, fucking shower with you.

His eyes rake over your body, you are wearing just a towel and his eyes widen at the sight. Your skin looks so soft, so delectable. Your towel barely covering the entirety of your breasts and it doesn’t help how short it is, your thighs so exposed. Your hair falls over your shoulders and your collarbone begs to be kissed.

Taehyung shakes these thoughts from his mind and looks up at you from his spot on the couch.

“I can’t…” he says slowly, “I am serious about going slow.”

“You don’t have to fuck me.” You put it bluntly. “I just miss you. Want to be close to you.”

“You won’t tempt me?” he rises from the sofa. “The most you are allowed to touch me is washing my hair.” He states.

“Okay.” You agree quickly. “Come shower with me.” You reach for his hand and he immediately wraps his fingers around yours, making you get all warm and gooey inside.

“I missed you too.” He whispers, following you into the bathroom. “Missed you so much.”

You take a step away from him and gesture for him to take off his clothes. He raises a brow at you and lifts his hands up.

“Take my clothes off for me.” He lightly teases, “But don’t let your hands linger.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes but you do as he says. You pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor and then your hands go to his pants. Your fingers quickly try to slide down his zipper and drag his jeans down leg by leg. He kicks them off to the side as you reach for the waistband of his briefs. You lick your lips as you slowly slide them down his legs, his cock springing free. He isn’t hard, not that hard at least, but his size is still impressive.

“Turn the water on babe.” He points towards the shower, “And lose the towel.”

You let the towel drop to the floor as you walk towards your shower, Taehyung watches your ass as you walk. He can’t help but bite down on his plump bottom lip, just watching you. He wishes he could take you by the hair, bend you over and fuck you for hours. But he’s afraid at this point the only sex he can have with you is angry, hate sex. And he wants his first time with you again to be full of love and nothing but.

“Make the water nice and warm.” He softly commands.

You twist the knob, making the water run in hot streams. It warms up quickly so you grab Taehyung’s hand and lead him into the shower.

The water stings a bit as it hits your back but you throw your head back anyway and let it wash over you fully.

“Shampoo.” You tell Taehyung and he is already squeezing it into his hand. You walk forward until you are touching Taehyung, chest to chest. He gulps when he feels your nipples grazing his skin.

“Close your eyes.” He commands. “I’m going to wash your hair now.” He massages your head tenderly, your hair turning into a soapy mess. “Rinse now.” He pushes you back until you are back under water.

This continues on, he rubs conditioner in your hair and then takes your washrag and pumps some body wash into it.

“Going to clean you.” He says lowly, “Is that okay?”

“Mhm.” You swallow down your nerves and agree to him touching you. First he moves your hair back and starts at your shoulders. He scrubs them slowly, the soap and water falling down your chest and your arms. Taehyung follows the soap, his eyes traveling all down your body.

“Have you lost weight?” he asks, slightly concerned.

You feel yourself blush.

“Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“You weren’t the only one going through a hard time, Tae.”

Taehyung nods his head slowly, his hand lowering itself until he is scrubbing at your stomach. He watches all the bubbles form on your skin and he actually feels jealous over fucking bubbles. He gulps, thinking about how these bubbles get to slide down your stomach, how they get to travel down to your pussy.

“y/n…” Taehyung’s deep voice startles you, you are so lost in the way he cleans you. You feel yourself grow more and more frustrated by the way he touches you and you know it will go nowhere.

��Yes?” you say breathlessly. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to clean…” he clears his throat. “Everywhere.” He warns.

You feel your knees go weak at his words, you try your hardest not to rub your thighs together but you can’t help it.

“Okay.” You murmur.

Taehyung’s hands glides down your lower stomach, making you tense. Then his fingers find your pussy and he is rubbing his fingers over it, nice and slow.

“Did you fuck anyone else?” his low voice asks you.

“N-No.” you shake your head, your knees starting to shake from how weak you are.

Taehyung’s fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it. You fall forward a little, your head resting on Taehyung’s shoulder as he feels you.

“You didn’t?” He asks again, his deep voice rumbling. “You’re sure?” He starts rubbing faster.

“I promise, Taehyung.” You moan into his shoulder. “You’re the only one I have been with.”

“Then I’ll reward you.” He whispers, “With my fingers.”

His fingers slide down to your hole and he inserts not one, but two fingers into your lonely, desperate cunt.

“Did you ever touch yourself?” he breathes out roughly. “And think of me?”

“Yes.” You pant, “All the time.”

His fingers start thrusting in and out of you quickly. They are so long, so beautiful. You have missed his fingers so much, it’s ridiculous.

“You only came to the thought me?” His breaths are erratic as he speaks. “Because for me, I only thought of you.”

“Yes Tae, yes.”

He finally adds in a third finger, making you feel fuller and fuller. He curls his fingers making you tense, he starts scissoring his fingers, they brush against your special spots and you groan out loud. There’s no way you are lasting another 30 seconds.

“Please let me touch you.” You start to beg, but Taehyung just thrusts his fingers in and out of you faster and harder.

“Please.” You beg again, you squeeze his shoulders with your hands. “I have missed you so much, need to touch you.”

“No.” Taehyung gets out roughly, “No…”

His other hands fingers finds your clit again and starts focusing his energy there, he rubs your clits so expertly that your knees finally give out on you as you start coming all over his hands.

“Ahhhh. Fuck,” your erratic breaths hit the skin of his shoulder as you come undone. “Fuck…” you bite down on his shoulder. Taehyung isn’t much better, his own breaths uneven.

“I don’t deserve you.” Taehyung whispers in your ear. “You’re too good for me.”

“I’m the one who is undeserving.” You admit softly as you steady your breaths. “Please tell me you will sleep with me tonight…in my bed, I mean.”

“Maybe.”

“Please come to bed with me, Tae.” You stand over him as he lays on the couch. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

“I don’t trust myself.” He says with his hands behind his head, eyes closed.

“Why are…why are you stopping yourself from being affectionate with me? Why wouldn’t you let me touch you?” you squat down next to him, your face now closer to his.

“Because I don’t deserve you. To be touched by you.” He says softly. “You didn’t sleep with anyone else.” He murmurs, “You stayed loyal to me, despite not knowing when you would see me. But I…” he opens his eyes, he turns his head to face you. “But I did.”

You feel your stomach twist and turn, your heart falling and falling deep into your lower stomach. Hana.

“Why did you do it?” You finally ask, “Why did you feel the need to sleep with her?”

“I was in a dark place, y/n.” Taehyung groans, “The girl I was in love with…am in love with…wanted nothing to do with me.” He looks at you with hard eyes.

“But I hate myself for it.” He admits, “I should have found you sooner, I should have—”

“Tae.” You cut him off before he gets too choked up. “Let’s talk properly. From the beginning.”

“The beginning?” he blinks at you. “Ah. The island. Our fight before we got separated.”

“Yes…” you sit down on the floor, crossing your legs. “I am so sorry. I loved you then just like how I love you now.” You take a deep breath. “My mom isn’t so wrong about me. I ran away when things got hard, or got complicated.” You chuckle bitterly. “But I didn’t think I would wake up and find you to be gone from me, my life.”

“I know…” Taehyung whispers.

“But…” you begin again, “It gives me a whole new appreciation for goodbyes. I should have never let us go to sleep like that, in the middle of a fight, and I will never let that happen again.”

“y/n…” He sits up from his place on the couch and pats the spot next to him, you get up and sit down on the sofa.

“I don’t think the company forced us to have feelings for one another. Because here I am in the real world, so ridiculously in love with you.” you say a bit quietly. “I should have trusted you. Trusted myself. I promise you Taehyung, I will never doubt you again. So tell me how you feel about me and I will believe every word…even if it isn’t all positive.”

Taehyung nods his head as he stares at his feet, his hand goes to your thigh and he starts rubbing it soothingly.

“I love you.” He says after a few moments of silence, “But I am still really hurt over everything. A big part of me keeps telling me you were never going to reach out. That part of me terrorizes me. It screams at me that you don’t actually love me.” He admits lowly, “But hearing you now…it helps.” He says, still rubbing your thigh. “I think I believe in you. Even if you don’t believe in yourself…I really think you would have reached out.” He tells himself more than you. “I have to believe that.” He closes his eyes and is silent for a few more moments.

“Taehyung—”

“Tell me I’m right.” He says desperately. “Just tell me I am right.”

“You’re right.” You say even if you aren’t so sure yourself. “You’re right, babe.”

“You know I don’t play games and I like for everything to be out in the open so I am going to tell you all of my intentions.” Taehyung opens his eyes to look at you.

“Okay.” You gulp.

“I love you and only you.” He begins. “I want this to work for the long run. I want you to meet my family, meet my friends and I want to see how everything goes.” He squeezes your knee. “I’m hoping the visit goes amazing so we can discuss the next steps.”

“Which are?”

“I don’t want to do long distance, y/n…” he brings his hand back to his own body, “I want to live closer to you. Even if that means I have to move here but honestly I think you will really like it in Korea…”

“You want to move together? Like, live together?”

“You already know we can do it. We make pretty good roommates.” He teases, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Okay, true…”

“Then you realize the things that come after that right?” he says with a smirk on his face. “But first, let’s take these next three weeks as slow as possible. Let’s get to know one another all over again. To see if this really works outside the island.”

“Why do I feel like you are testing me?” you ask with a frown but Taehyung gives you a stern look and shakes his head.

“You’re technically testing me too.” He says, “We need to see if this works.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“I want to officially take you out. On a real date.” He whispers, “Would you like that?”

You feel your blush deepening on your face, your hand goes to your cheek just to feel how warm it is.

“Yes.” You mumble.

“Need to hear you loud and clear baby.”

“Yes.” You say a bit louder and Taehyung’s hand goes back to your thigh, he starts rubbing up and down your leg.

“That’s my good girl.” He leans in to kiss the side of your neck and you feel your whole body go tense under his lips touching your skin.

“Taehyung…” you moan out, closing your eyes. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.” He whispers into your neck, placing another kiss then he leans away. “Go to bed.” His deep voice echoes.

“Come with me.”

“Not yet baby.”

You slump your shoulders in disappointment. Why is he being so difficult?

“Just to sleep.”

“I can’t control myself around you y/n. Please respect my decision.” He ushers you to stand him so he can lay back down on the couch. You stand up and hover over him for a moment.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” you asks timidly. Taehyung gnaws on his lips before he is waving you off.

“Please just go to sleep.” He somewhat begs. “I’ll see you in the morning, make sure you’re all packed.”

~~~~~

You are nervous. Nervous as fuck, actually. You and Taehyung just arrived in Korea and even the air is different. You can’t believe you’re actually here, you can’t believe you really got on that plane and flew all the way to Taehyung’s home—the place you were so curious about when you first met him.

Taehyung seems different. Like, being home is showing a whole new side of him. He looks happy, giddy even. He holds your hand tightly as you both walk the streets with your luggage. You two got dropped off from your taxi a couple blocks away from his apartment so he could show you some shops he loves to go to.

“This bar here is quite popular between my friends and I.” he points at a little bar and you just nod your head.

“Looks nice.” You say with starry eyes. “Everything looks nice, actually.”

“We will be going there tomorrow night when we meet up with everyone. My friends-that is.” He squeezes your hand. “Tonight we can go to my parent’s house for dinner. How’s that sound?”

“Already?” you look down at your shoes as you walk. “I thought we could just relax today…”

“It’s like 8 in the morning. There’s plenty of time for a nap.” He comments nonchalantly. “Look, I’m just really excited for you to meet everyone. I understand though…if you want to take a few days…”

“No, no. It’s okay.” You shake your head, you two continue walking until he stops, making you stop.

“We’re here. My apartment.” He points up at the building and you take a deep breath.

“Are you going to make me sleep on the couch?” you half joke and he pulls you into his side, hugging you.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He teases.

You both walk up to his apartment and enter the small place—you say small, but it is bigger than your place and much nicer. How does Taehyung afford this?

“My parents help out…” he admits as if reading your mind. “That’s how I got such a nice place.”

“Ah I see. That’s great!”

“Ever since the island my dad has been super supportive of my music, always just wanting the best for me.” He grins sheepishly. “It’s different but it’s nice.”

“I’m happy for you…I can’t wait to meet your parents.” You place your suitcase and backpack down on the floor, Taehyung does the same.

“Let me give you a tour.” He smiles, taking your hand.

You follow him around as he shows you his apartment, you two take a moment longer in his bedroom. You slide your fingers against his beds blanket, and admire the art on his walls.

“Yes, you will be sleeping in here.” He huffs out dramatically, “I haven’t decided where I am sleeping though.”

“Take a nap with me…” you walk closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just an innocent nap” you lean into him, your warm mouth at his ear. “Innocent, I promise.” You lean back a bit to see how pink Taehyung is becoming, his face flushing and his body tensing.

“No…” he stutters, “I can’t.” but he can’t help his own hands from wrapping around your waist. He pulls you in closer to his body and breathes you in. God, this is pure fucking torture. He can’t help the way his breathes become rougher, slightly uneven.

“Fuck…” he breathes out. “I want to kiss you so bad.” He says as he grows weaker and weaker in your grasp.

“Then kiss me, Tae.”

“Maybe our first date.” He teases, his hands going lower until they are gripping your hips. “Please tell me you’ll let me take you out this Friday?”

“I have to wait that long?”

“Only 4 days baby.”

“4 days too many.” You pout…”But you are worth the wait.” You lean up and kiss his cheek.

Taehyung slowly closes his eyes, the urge to kiss you stupid is strong. The urge to rip your clothes off and fuck you? Even stronger.

“y/n…” he warns. “Hurry up and take your nap. I’m going to let the guys know we made it,” he says, pulling out his phone.

You bite your lips while nodding your head in understanding. You pull away from Taehyung and pull off your shirt, and slip off your jeans.

“W-What are you doing?” Taehyung blushes as he watches you undress.

“Changing.” You shrug, you walk towards his drawers and open them up one by one, trying to find yourself one of his t shirts.

“You are really testing me, aren’t you?” he bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes scanning your exposed body. “You really want me to slip those panties off and fuck you silly?” he walks closer to you, putting his phone in his back pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest and eyes you.

“Keep going.” He orders. “Take off the rest of your clothes. Sleep in nothing but the t shirt.”

Your head snaps up to face him and you see how serious he is. You swallow down your spit as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor and you feel the cool air hardening your buds.

“Panties too.” Taehyung commands, “Take them off slowly though.”

You nod, your hands going to the waistband of your panties, you slowly drag one side down and then the other. You begin to slide them down one leg at a time when you hear Taehyung tsk.

“Slower.” He says sternly. “I said slow.”

You drag them down slower now, they are barely at your thighs when Taehyung takes long strides to meet you. He slaps your hands away and his own hands go to your underwear.

“Like this.” He begins showing you, “Nice and slow. Let the anticipation build.”

He slides them off you so fucking slowly, when they get to your knees he pauses, his eyes traveling up to your exposed pussy. He licks his drying lips and groans.

“I can smell you baby. You’re wet.”

You throw your head back, feeling embarrassed. You squeeze your thighs together when he starts dragging the panties down again. When they’re finally at your ankles, you kick them away.

“You got wet from something like this?” he quirks a brow at you, amusement written all over his face.

“I can’t help it Tae, I need you.”

“You are so greedy,” Taehyung walks closer to you, his fingers sliding up your arms. “You just had my fingers in the shower, now you already need more?”

“I’ll always need more until you let me have you.” You admit between bated breaths.

“Oh is that so?” he teases, his fingers traveling up towards your neck. His fingers wrap around your throat, he squeezes and walks you backwards until your body is against the wall.

“You want to come?” He squeezes your throat just a bit tighter.

“Yes.” You squeak out, you can’t help but swivel your hips.

“My greedy girl wants to come?” he asks again, his other hand gripping your hips. “Then come. Touch yourself.”

“T-Touch myself?” your eyes widen, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb baby, take your fingers and rub that clit for me.” He says while squeezing your throat lightly. You feel yourself grow more and more turned on. Your hand reaches down between your legs, and your fingers find your swollen, aching clit.

“How does that feel babe? To finally be touched?” he asks, his hand never leaving your throat as his other hand massages your hip. “I want you coming all over your fingers.”

You rub your clit faster and faster, you’re slowly closing your eyes when Taehyung squeezes your throat a bit harder.

“No.” he says. “You have to keep your eyes on me.”

You open them wider, you stare up at Taehyung, his gaze is dark and intense. Your lips part as you moan out, your whines and whimpers all directed towards Taehyung.

“Mm.” you moan, “Feels good, Tae.” You rub tight, focused circles on your little bundle of nerves, you quickly feel your high approaching. The entire situation making you feel so fucking turned on. Taehyung looks so fucked out as he watches you. His eyes glazed over in lust.

“You going to come?” he asks breathlessly. “Because of me?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You pant out, “I’m so close.” You tense your whole body as waves of your orgasm begin crashing over you. Your fingers keep going as you ride it out and your head hits the wall as you finally finish.

Taehyung loosens his grip on your neck, and pulls you in for a hug. He brings your naked body to his and he inhales you. Before you can wrap your arms around him and hug him back, Taehyung is grabbing your hand and leading you towards the bed.

“Lay down.” He orders. “Now.”

You give Taehyung a look of question but you do as he says. You lay down on the bed and wait for him to instruct you further.

“Spread your legs.”

You do as he says, spreading your legs nice and wide. You don’t know what to expect though, you eye him curiously.

“Place your fingers at your pussy.” He continues to instruct you. “Yes, like that…now gather your juices for me baby.” He walks over, gets on the bed between your legs. He crawls up your body until his face is in front of your face.

“Get your fingers soaked for me.” He kisses the side of your neck.

You get your fingers nice and wet and you bring them up between your faces, showing him.

“Good. Now let me taste.” He says, “This is the only way I deserve to taste you.”

You frown at that, but you push your fingers past his lips nonetheless.

Taehyung’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue swirls around your fingers, he can’t help but groan as he tastes you. You pull your fingers out of his warm mouth and gather more of your pussy juices. You then bring your fingers to his lips again, pushing past them so he can taste you again and again.

“How do I taste?” You breathe out, “Good?”

“My fucking favorite flavor.” He moans, “Taste yourself.” He commands, taking your hand in his, dipping it between your legs, so your fingers can gather your cum. Then he is bringing your hand back between your faces, and sticking your fingers in your mouth.

“Taste.” He orders quietly.

You lick up your fingers, moaning at your situation.

“I want you Taehyung.” You whisper desperately. “I need you.”

Taehyung bows his head down, breathing roughly at your words. He wants you too. He needs you too. But he still isn’t in the right place to fuck you. He wants this first time to be more than a fuck. He wants to make love to you. He also feels like he doesn’t deserve you now. He feels like shit.

“Not yet.” He breathes out harshly. “But maybe soon.” He struggles to find a steady breath.

“Taehyung…” you whine.

Taehyung rolls off your body, stands to his feet and grabs the t shirt you were going to use. He throws it over to you.

“Put this on and take your nap.” He says softly.

You listen, as usual. You pull the shirt over your head and through your arms and get up to clean yourself off.

Taehyung stands at his window, deep in thought. He wants you. He needs you. He loves you. He’s sure of all three of these things. But it’s too soon to think he has forgiven you isn’t it? It’s too soon to think he’s over it. He wants to be over it, of course. But he knows it is too soon to think he is.

“I guess I will take a nap now.” You announce your presence once again. You pull back Taehyung’s covers and slip inside the bed. The entire bed smells just like him. You pull the blanket to your nose and inhale it, you turn to your side and stuff your face in his pillow, inhaling that as well. Everything smells just like him. It makes you feel weak.

“Okay babe.”

You feel your eyes sting just a bit, the reality is Taehyung is still distancing himself from you. And that makes you feel small, makes you feel weak. You aren’t satisfied with anything. No attention he gives you feels like enough.

“Taehyung?” You call out for him, your voice small. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Taehyung leans away from the window and walks over to his bed. He sits on the edge, just staring at you.

“Sure.”

You nod gratefully, you reach out for his hand and he gives it to you.

“This will be a perfect 3 weeks, I swear.” You promise to Taehyung. He feels his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I know.” He responds in a whisper.

“You are going to fall even more in love with me.” Your voice cracks, your eyes filling with tears.

“I know.” He says quietly.

“You’re never going to want me to leave.”

“I know.”

“You are going to beg me to stay.” You choke on your words and he squeezes your hand.

“I know.”

And he is afraid of that…that he is going to beg you to stay but you will say no. You have your own life at your own home. He knows this is going to take work, he knows this is going to take time. He knows this. But fuck, he is ready to do everything with you. But he knows he needs to take it slow.

“You are going to be so in love with me by the end of this.” You silently cry.

Taehyung feels his heart pinch in his chest, he feels it struggling to find a beat. He knows this. He knows he is so in love with you and the more time he spends with you, it will grow. But do you feel the same? Do you really? You weren’t ever going to reach out, were you? He knows the answer deep down. The same thought fucking haunts him.

“I know.”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #Taehyung smut #Taehyung angst #Taehyung fluff #the island chapter 9

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years ago

Text

Everything's Bigger In Texas

Summary: You decide to drive up to Dallas to surprise your old high school buddy, Jared, while he’s there for a convention.

Pairing: Jared x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: J2 convention hilarity, dick jokes, only one bed, high school friends, spooning, size kink Word Count: 3,504 Bingo Squares: @spnkinkbingo - Size Kink

A/N: Not set around any particular season. For the purpose of this story, Jared and Jensen are both single, non-fathers.

Commissioned by: @jbbarnesgirl She had a great prompt that this has now spawned a sequel (which will be a member exclusive on my website)! Thanks for letting my mind run wild on this one babe ❤️

You pull into the parking space the valet wrote on your ticket and park with a dramatic exhale of relief. You’ve actually gone through with it and made the three hour drive up to Dallas to surprise Jared at his convention this weekend.

It had been years since your last high school reunion in Austin when you’d run into each other and wound up drunk in a Waffle House at three in the morning, stuffing your faces with bacon and french fries. You and he were the kind of friends that were awful at keeping in touch but time traveled straight back to junior year anytime you ran into each other. You’ve always been able to talk and laugh like only a weekend had passed between visits instead of years.

You hope Jared’s happy to see you, because you’ve been bursting at the seams with excitement since you came up with your ‘surprise’ plan.

The hotel lobby is swarming with fans and you wonder how on earth you’re going to find Jared in all the bustle. Your plan is to find someone who looks like they’re working the convention and ask for directions to Jared and Jensen’s bodyguard, Clif, who you hope to God remembers dropping your drunk ass off at your apartment after the Waffle House incident. It’s not a very elegant plan but it’s all you’ve got. You spot someone with a lanyard and a walkie-talkie and beeline toward them, fingers crossed in your pocket.

Twenty minutes and several tiers up the convention staff hierarchy later you’re finally led to a service hallway and ushered towards a door, Clif standing guard stoically outside it. The employee escorting you speaks quietly to Clif while you stand there awkwardly, rocking back and forth, toes to heel, in an effort to contain your nervous energy. A look of recognition slowly dawns across the bodyguard’s face as he takes another look at you.

“Austin, a couple years ago?” he asks to confirm.

“High school reunion,” you nod in affirmation, relieved he actually does remember you.

“No getting Jared drunk until after the panel,” Clif admonishes, aiming a thick finger menacingly at your face, and you nod gravely before his face cracks into a grin and he swings the door behind him back on its hinges.

“Y/N?!” Jared’s facing the door and spots you immediately, his face breaking into a wide smile. The anxiety that had solidified in your chest with each passing mile on your way here disintegrates, carrying the tension out of your body as it melts away.

“Hey there, Hot Shot.”

Jared bounds forward and wraps you tightly in a hug, the muscles in his arms visibly bulging the sleeves of his t-shirt as he squeezes you against him, which you can’t help but notice because your eye level is at his bicep. You hug him back as tightly as you can manage, pressing your cheek into his chest.

“How ya doin’, squirt?” Jared grabs your shoulders and manhandles you away from him so he can get a better look at you, his eyes racing up and down your figure. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Dallas is only a three hour drive,” you shrug. It’s no big deal really, you’d just wanted to see him. “Plus my mom cancelled our girls’ weekend, so I had nothing better to do,” you grin, your eyes twinkling up at him wryly. Behind you, you hear Jensen snort with laughter. Jared turns to his friend, giving him a withering look and Jensen chokes back another laugh, unable to hide his amusement.

“Dude, you were her back-up plan after her mom?”

“Shut up,” Jared rolls his eyes but you join in Jensen’s giggles.

“I’m Jensen, by the way,” the man in question raises a hand in greeting, and you smile back.

“Y/N,” you wave. “Went to high school with this nut case,” you jerk your thumb towards Jared.

“Feels like I do too,” Jensen laughs. “He still acts like he’s fourteen most of the time.”

“Hey!” Jared points an accusing finger at Jensen, “at least fifteen, thank you very much.”

“And what exactly is the distinction between fourteen and fifteen here, Jay?” he asks.

“He doesn’t pop a boner every time he talks to a girl anymore?” you offer, snickering. Jensen bursts out laughing, a full bellied, joyous sound that fills out every corner of the room. Jared is rolling his eyes again, but you spy the faint blush that’s started to creep up his neck, and based on the smirk Jensen’s wearing, you think he’s spotted it too.

“So,” Jared draws out the syllable, trying to change the topic. “Are you staying for the convention then?”

“Got my ticket and everything,” you wave your pass in the air. “But mainly I just wanted to see you, it’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Jared squeezes your arm affectionately. “Where’s your seat? I think we’re getting called out soon.”

“Oh I’m with the plebs at the back, standing room. Seeing your ass is only worth so much money,” you tease.

“You’re standing?” Jared’s brow shoots up. “You won’t be able to see a damn thing,” he laughs.

“You’re tall enough to see from space, Bigfoot,” you try to hit him on the head but he easily stretches his neck so you can’t reach, illustrating your point.

“She’s gotcha there, J-Rod,” Jensen agrees, strolling forwards and smacking Jared on the back of the head for you, since your attempt was foiled. “But you don’t have to stand all the way back there, sweetheart,” Jensen adds. “Come out with us, we’ll have someone put you at the side of the stage.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I really don’t mind standing,” you protest. You didn’t want to take space away from the fans who had paid for the close seats. You’re only a casual watcher of the show anyways, ghosts and monsters aren’t so much your thing, you just watch it because of Jared.

“Nah, c’mon,” Jared ignores your protest, striding back towards the door and popping his head out to talk to Clif. “Can you have them slap an extra chair on the side of the stage? Y/N’s gonna stick around for the panel.”

“Sure thing,” Clif nods, and radioes a volunteer to get it done.

“Jared,” you roll your eyes at your friend.

“Too late,” he taunts. “You’re stuck with the fangirls now.”

“Just keep in mind all the shit I could tell them,” you threaten jokingly.

“Nah, you won’t do that.” Jared’s entirely unconcerned.

“Why not?”

“Because then I won’t pay for our drinks tab later,” he smirks.

You mime turning a lock and throwing away the key. “My lips are sealed.”

“You better tell me later though, sweetheart,” Jensen ducks his head to whisper in your ear as they usher you out the door.

“Buy me a couple cosmos, you can know anything you want,” you smirk, and let Jensen and Jared guide you out to the convention hall for their panel.

“I will definitely take you up on that,” Jensen’s breath ghosts ticklishly over your ear. He shoots you a wink as he ducks behind a dividing curtain and you wave back giggling, and make your way to the seat Clif is pointing you towards.

The panel is a whole lot of fun, and you have to admit it’s definitely better sitting up front than it would have been fighting to stay standing in the sea of hormones jostling at the back. This close up, you can see Jared and Jensen’s reactions much more clearly, too; every secretive grin between them, every twitching laugh line, every aborted glance back in your direction. Laughter rings through the crowd and you refocus your attention on the questions.

“Which one of us is the biggest what?” Jensen speaks into his mic, asking the girl on the opposite side of the stage to you to repeat her question.

“Well I’m the biggest,” Jared cuts in smirking, and the audience cheers and giggles. Jared flashes them a bright, goofy smile.

“Well, that depends on what she’s asking,” Jensen smacks Jared on the arm. The girl tries to ask her question again but she’s laughing through it and the words come out garbled again.

“Which one of us has the biggest pants?” Jared’s brow raises as he incorrectly repeats the question again. You know there’s no way that’s what the girl asked. “That’s still me darlin’.” He turns to your side of the stage goddamn winks, and you flush just as deeply as the girl asking her question. You roll your eyes at him, glad that he probably can’t see you very clearly due to the stage lights shining in his eyes.

“That topic is still up for debate, actually,” Jensen protests seriously.

“No it’s not,” Jared scoffs.

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Jensen’s not backing down. “Costume department compared our measurements bro, they’re the same.”

“You and I both know that didn’t include the measurement they’re talking about,” Jared glares jokingly out at the audience.

There’s wolf whistles and shrieks of delight from the crowd and Jensen bursts out laughing. “You’re gonna give them all aneurysms, man.”

You certainly feel like you might be having an aneurysm. Your blood is pumping hot and hard through your veins. You can actually hear it swirling around your body, leaking out into your capillaries, carrying burning embarrassment and desire to the tips of each vessel.

It’s a running joke, the size difference between you and Jared. He towers over most of the people he meets, so it’s not unsurprising that he towers over you as well. He’s called you ‘squirt’ as long as you can remember knowing him, and you’ve called him every name you can dream up, from ‘sasquatch’ to ‘jolly green giant’.

As you both grew older, and Jared’s physique caught up to his height, and your mind started to take up a more permanent residence in…ahem… lower places than it had inhabited in your youth, you began to wonder just how big Jared would be if you ever… You imagine big. Proportional, at the very least. Though, Jared has always been an overachiever, you imagine it might extend to this measurement as well. You secretly hope, anyway.

You gulp nervously. There’s a reason you and Jared had gotten so trashed the last time you’d hung out, and that was so you could drown your burgeoning crush in some socially acceptable poison and hope it didn’t break its head through the surface. Jared looks back at you and flashes you a smile, probably in relation to whatever he’d just said but you hadn’t been listening, mind too preoccupied thinking about the size of your friend’s dick. You let out a sigh of resignation – you were going to have to get smashed tonight, too.

“Oh,” Jensen’s voice rings through the auditorium as he finally understands the question. “Which one of us did the biggest prank?”

“Uh, Jensen,” Jared answers after a moment of dramatised consideration, “just now when he told you all he has a bigger dick than me.”

There’s an echoing thud as Jensen smacks Jared’s head with his microphone and Jared and Jensen both double up laughing, covering their mics so it doesn’t reverberate around the room. When things settle down after a minute you see Jensen lean towards Jared to say something privately. The mics don’t pick it up, but you’re close enough that you think you hear him say, “later tonight, we’re getting out the ruler.”

The hotel bar is basically empty, but you and Jared are still in a private room at the back so he doesn’t get mobbed by fans if they do happen to wander in. Jensen had joined you for a drink earlier, but he had to leave to perform at the Saturday night concert for the convention.

“Do you ever perform on Saturdays?” you poked at Jared, and both he and Jensen laughed wildly.

“Never in a million years,” Jared shook his head. “I just watch this guy give everyone in the room phantom orgasms all night.”

“Gross, dude,” Jensen shuddered as Jared guffawed but you had to agree, Jensen’s voice was orgasmic.

“Have fun with your ménage a several hundreds,” you waved Jensen off with a giggle.

“You’ll have to join in sometime,” Jensen backed out of the room with a wicked grin, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously and leaving you and Jared laughing behind him.

“You want another one?” Jared asks, pointing at your nearly empty glass.

“If I have any more I’ll have to crawl back to Austin,” you hiccup, the alcohol making you giggle-y and unsteady despite your seated state.

“You’re not goin’ back to Austin, squirt,” Jared protests, drowning the remainder of his own glass.

“Am I being kidnapped?”

“Damn straight. You’re not driving anywhere tonight, don’t be stupid.”

“I was gonna dry out a little first,” you defend yourself. Of course you weren’t planning to drive home drunk.

“By the time you sober up it will be way too late to go back. Just stay the night here,” Jared shrugs, indicating it’s no big deal for you to crash. You think about it for a moment and then agree that staying over is a better plan. Besides, Jared will have a big fancy room since the convention is paying for them to stay here – he’ll have plenty of space for you.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically but you aren’t all that perturbed, and Jared knows it too. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” Jared grins. “C’mon, I’ll grab a bottle from the bar and let’s go upstairs. I don’t want to get caught in the crowd after the concert finishes.” You also don’t want to be mobbed by hundreds of concert goers, so you happily follow Jared out of the bar and up to his hotel room.

Jared flops dramatically onto his bed when you get inside, but you stand by the door, taking in your surroundings. As you’d imagined, the room is lavish. Every piece of furniture is accented with metallics, and every soft surface is heaped with pillows, including the bed Jared is now snuggling back onto. But, you note with a bit of surprise, there is only one bed.

Apparently fancy doesn’t automatically come with multiple beds – and why should it? Jared hadn’t expected anybody to stay the night, he’d only needed the one bed. Had he known there was only one bed when he offered you a place to crash for the night? Or had someone else brought up the luggage that you could see piled at the foot of the bed, meaning he wouldn’t have known what the exact sleeping situation would turn out to be? You’re jolted out of your frenzied contemplation when Jared throws a pillow at your head, though it narrowly misses and hits the door behind you.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night?” he laughs, eyes crinkling.

“Uh, no, course not,” you scoff, hoping Jared assumes the flush creeping over your skin is from alcohol, and not embarrassment. Jared scoots over to one side of the bed and pats the empty space he’s just created. The bottle of whiskey he’d brought from the bar downstairs is propped next to him on the pillows and it bounces as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You reach for it and peel back the foil cap, pulling the cork free with a pop.

“Wanna watch something?” Jared rifles on the side of the bed, digging for his laptop in the bag on the floor.

“Whatever you want,” you shrug.

You inwardly hope watching something might help you control your drunk chatter. Your mind has been wandering to one specific place since the panel this afternoon and you’re hyper aware that when you get tipsy, your filter becomes non existent. You do not want to give Jared an unsolicited insight into your horribly inappropriate mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle in your hands to Jared’s laptop, now open and sitting on his thighs while he surfs through movie options online. His hands overwhelm the breadth of the keyboard, the pads of each long finger almost bigger than the letter keys they’re hovering over. How far could those fingers reach if they were… No. You curtail that course of thought with a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle and flick your eyes away from his hands.

Jared’s legs are pressed together, gangly limbs and knees scrunched up and pushing the fabric at his hips into ripples. An unmissable bulge sits at the apex of his thighs, distending the denim so it’s stretched tightly across his cock while it’s bunched and wrinkled everywhere else. You swallow hard and tear your gaze away, forcing yourself to look back at Jared’s laptop. He’s stopped scrolling now, and after a moment you realise he’s asking you if the movie he’s hovering over is an okay choice. You nod mutely and take another drink.

“Woah there darlin’, save some for the rest of us,” he laughs, grabbing the bottle from your hands, fingertips brushing over yours as he wraps them around the green glass. You wonder if Jared feels the same pang of electricity that you do when you touch. He’s evidently curious as to why you recoiled so quickly, because he’s now carefully studying your hand and the fingers that had just brushed against his.

Your moment of thick silence is interrupted by the fanfare of opening credits as the movie begins to play, startling you. Jared smooshes himself further back into the feather pillows on the unfairly comfy bed and stretches his arms wide, patting the pillow he’s using as an armrest to summon you to him.

Nervous and giddy all at once, you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, curling up against his side. Even laying down he feels so much bigger than you. Your eyes drop again, unbidden, to his lap and you rip your gaze away quickly. The whiskey must be settling in now, because you start to feel sleepy and because, for just a second, you think that the bulge in Jared’s crotch looks even larger than it had a few minutes earlier.

Jared pulls you close against him, offering you the whiskey bottle again, and you take it happily. The two of you lazily glug more booze and laugh along with whatever comedy is on the laptop, and you’re utterly content. At some point in time your neck loses its ability to support your head and you topple it sideways onto Jared’s shoulder.

“You comfy there, Y/N?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum sleepily, snuggling even deeper into Jared’s chest, your arm winding itself around his waist of its own accord, and Jared squeezes you against him, laughing softly into your hair.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep – you don’t remember the end of the movie at all. You don’t even remember how you’d wound up under the covers, cradled snugly in the bend of Jared’s body. Wiggling a little to reintroduce feeling into your left arm, you shift backwards into his chest, secretly hoping the arm currently resting on top of the covers might drop around your waist as you continue to sleep.

Arching out to stretch your legs a little, you wind up nudging your hips back into Jared’s and you freeze in shock. Here, pressed close beneath the confines of cotton-swaddled feathers, you feel it… and you can tell – Jared hadn’t been kidding at the panel earlier. He must be bigger than Jensen, because there’s no way anyone could be physically larger than what you feel pressing into the curve of your ass right now.

Your whole body flushes, but you’re too scared to move away lest you wake Jared, so you stay. You try to breathe, systematically unclenching the muscles in your body from head to toe and allowing yourself to relax against your bed companion. Darkness settles around you when your eyes drift shut again but the light from Jared’s laptop still casts a faint blue tint against your eyelids.

That comforting blue morphs into a shocking orange, and your eyes squint against the unexpected source of light now coming from the open door. Seconds later it’s even brighter as the lights in the room are switched on to reveal Jensen leaning casually against the back of the door, smirking in the direction of the bed. Behind you, Jared has jolted awake, sitting up and pitching you forward into the mattress with the force of his disturbance.

“Jay?” he asks blearily, yawning through the word.

“Why did I have a feeling this is what I’d be walking into tonight?” Jensen answers with a laugh and a kind roll of his eyes. You look sleepily between both of the men, confused as all hell.

Finally, it occurs to you why Jensen must be in the room – and why there had only been one bed.

Part 2 now up as an exclusive commission on my website!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20 @sams-sass @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking

#spnkinkbingo #size kink #jared x reader #friends to lovers #surprise ending

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: ok, so, Kid is ready to give Yoon that good good just after hearing like half the mixtape, our girl hasn’t even seen the damn mv yet guys, like, she’s ready to pounce after just seven songs from her man. And honestly, mood. I hope you lovelies enjoy this, I hope it lives up to your expectations lmao, and thank you for reading :))

YOU paced back and forth from one end of your kitchen to the other as you waited for Yoongi to answer his damn phone. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to pick up the-

“Hello?” Yoongi’s low voice interrupted your thoughts through the phone’s speaker.

Gasping, you eagerly asked, “Can I start listening?” omitting a proper greeting.

“Oh hey, I’m fine, how are you?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware he couldn’t see you. “You’re expecting a lot of self-control from me right now, Min,” you complained.

Yoongi allowed himself to chuckle before responding with a humored, “if you want, you can listen, Kid.”

You squealed in excitement, bouncing around in front of the oven. “You’re sure? I don’t have to wait for you or anything?”

“Nah, I’m almost there anyway,” he told you, and you could tell by the tone of his voice he was grinning. “Just no music video yet,” he said in a whiny tone which you knew must be accompanied with a pout. He enjoyed watching your reaction to his music videos.

“No music video, I promise,” you smiled, absolutely fond of the man. “Oh my god, I’m not ready for this am I?” You yelled out, Yoongi scoffing in response.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” he groaned.

“Shush, I’m hanging up, I have a long-awaited mixtape to listen to, thank you very much.”

“Ok fine, fine,” he laughed, but before you could hang up, Yoongi added, “Hey, Kid?” You hummed in response. “Love you.”

You’ve heard the words a million times, but it never failed to make your heart pound. However, that didn’t stop you from teasing him a bit. “Yeah, yeah, love you, I gotta go, priorities, baby. I don’t know if you’ve heard but the Agust D just made a comeback.”

He chuckled into the phone once more before giving you a, “See you in a bit,” and then hung up.

Immediately, you were pressing play on the mixtape on Spotify, already having had it pulled up for five minutes.

The first song, ‘Moonlight’, started off soft before scratching records came in, and then your boyfriend’s voice. When he gave his iconic laugh with an “August D” you smiled in pride. That’s my honey boy.

You turned your attention to the meal you were preparing for you and Yoongi, one of his favorites, stirring the contents in a big pot on the stovetop. Bopping along to the music, you listened to the lyrics that talked about his story, starting in Daegu to flying high with his group, how he goes through feelings of confidence in his work to feeling untalented, the struggles of writing this exact mixtape due to the pressure from a larger audience, expectations, and self-doubt. You knew those struggles all too well. You were with him throughout it all.

You’d been given glimpses of the songs throughout the writing process, some tracks in full while others you only saw lyric scribblings on those yellow notepads he leaves around his studio and that littered your apartment. You first saw the chorus to ‘Moonlight’ written on one of those notepads that sat on your bedside table.

“I like this,” you told your boyfriend, holding the notepad in one hand as the other found its way in his dampened hair, his face resting against your bare chest.

“Huh?” He looked up at you, his hand gripping your waist as his eyelids fluttered. The sheets were in disarray around your still nude forms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, is it for D-2?”

“Maybe,” he told you with a yawn. “Not sure.”

“I think you should use it,” you told him, your finger outlining the shell of his ear as his lips curved into a lazy smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?” He asked, uncertain and a bit more awake.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He kissed the center of your chest before nuzzling his face further against your breasts. “You always know best, Kid.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears as you listened to the song, feeling immensely proud of your boyfriend. Of how hard he worked, of overcoming the doubt and fear, and just simply for the talent, passion, and artistry he shared with so many people.

As the mixtape played, you went through phases of dancing around, squealing in excitement, gasping at lyrics and phrasing, and more bouncing and dancing. You tried your best to focus on the lyrics, though you knew it would take a few listens to catch them all as you were too excited to comprehend everything just then.

Completely invested in the music, you didn’t hear your front door open, unaware of your boyfriend’s presence until he appeared in your peripheral, catching you doing a little strut that resembled Yoongi’s swagger walk he did on stage. Your head snapping to him, you were met with his gummy grin, his shoulders shaking in laughter as ‘Burn It’ continued to play throughout the kitchen.

“Are you leaving me for Agust D yet?” He teased, walking toward you.

“Do you realize how sexy you are? Like do you have any idea?” You asked accusatorily. “Like what the fuck, dude?”

“Jesus,” he huffed, a smile still plastered on his face. “You’re actually ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you’re ridiculously talented, Min. You’re not told that enough,” you told him seriously. Reaching you, he placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, stepping further into his arms.

“I’m told that plenty,” he dismissed with a bashful grin.

“No, you’re not,” you told him as ‘Burn It’ continued to play. Instead of responding to you, he kissed you which you immediately deepened, Yoongi stepping back a bit by the unexpected force behind your actions, though his arms wrapped tighter around your waist so your body was flush with his.

Pulling away, he chased your lips, making you smile. “I don’t even have the words right now to tell you how proud I am of you,” you told him seriously, tears forming in your eyes. You watched as Yoongi took a deep breath, keeping his own emotions under control at your sincere confession. “Just know I’m really proud,” you said as tears threatened to fall.

He quickly nodded just before bringing a hand to your jaw as he caught your lips again, giving you several quick pecks as he composed himself.

Letting out a breath that sounded to be one of relief, Yoongi peered around your frame, inspecting the food cooking on the stove, as well as the food that had spilled outside of the pot, with a grin. “That looks good.”

“Hopefully,” you said with a smile as Yoongi nuzzled his face against your neck, refusing to let you go. With the overwhelming pride and love you felt, mixed with the fact that the man on the mixtape was all yours, and he was standing in your kitchen, in your arms, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you had a sudden desire for him.

As ‘People’ started playing, you were instantly struck with the memory of coming to his studio as he was working on that very track. It was just the instrumental then, but it was interesting and different from the other stuff he had been working on. Yoongi must have been thinking upon the same memory as he lifted his head, a gummy grin directed to you as his eyes found yours.

“I remember the night you wrote this,” you smiled, biting your lower lip. That night, you had spent about an hour of it sitting on his desk as Yoongi sat in his chair in front of you, his chin resting on your knees as you both discussed your ideas of life, and people, and changes, and what it all meant, if it even meant anything.

You had already been dating for well over a year, but it was a moment where you and Yoongi felt a closeness between you both that hadn’t really been there before, becoming more mentally and emotionally attune with each other.

The conversation eventually faded out, the intense feeling of understanding between you both leading to you having sex on his studio couch.

“Trust me, I remember it very well,” he chuckled, his mind running through every moment of that night, from the feeling of closeness, to the warmth of your body underneath his as he pressed you against the couch cushions, the way you moaned his name and whispered ‘I love you’s’.

As the chorus of ‘People’ sounded from your laptop, your eyes widened at the sultry soothe of your boyfriend’s vocals.

“Since when do you sing like that, Min?” You teased with a smile, your eyes bouncing around his soft features. As he let out a breathy chuckle, you slid your your hands down his neck to rest overtop his collarbones as you leaned toward him and kissed him deeply.

The action took him by surprise though he easily found his rhythm, his hands slipping underneath your shirt, feeling at the bare skin of your waist.

As you began backing up, he quickly felt around to shut the stove off before following you toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. Your hands found his waist as his moved to your face, taking control. You began lifting his shirt up, you both separating just long enough for you to pull it over his head and discard it somewhere in the hallway outside your room.

Eagerly, you unbuttoned his jeans, Yoongi helping you get the clothing off him as he released his hold on you to step out of them. Backing up, your legs hit the edge of the bed and you locked your eyes with your boyfriend’s. Smirking at him, you pulled your own shirt off before unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Yoongi bit his lip, his eyes settling on your chest before slowly dragging them back up to meet your darkened gaze. Tilting his head at you, you quipped, “What are you waiting for?” Yoongi scoffed before approaching you and pushing your body so you fell against the mattress. He reached for the waist of your jeans, taking no time in unzipping them and tugging them down your legs, you lifting your hips to help him. Your panties were removed next, Yoongi dropping them to floor as he allowed his eyes to rake over your body, taking in every inch of you.

You sat up on your elbows, watching the man as he looked over your nude form. “For a man who brags an awful lot about being a king and a boss, you seem a bit timid, baby,” you teased in a sultry tone.

Your boyfriend scoffed again, a smirk forming on his lips. “Be patient,” he scolded, though he stepped toward you, nudging your inner knee with his leg, making you widen the gap between your thighs as he stared down at your center.

“My patience disappeared the moment I clicked play on that mixtape,” you smiled. “I want you.” With that, you sat up, your hands slipping underneath the waistband of his underwear, lowering them until they easily slid down his legs, pooling at his feet. You kept eye contact with him as you left a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen, just above his pelvic area.

He let out a quick breath as he smiled, lowering his body on top of yours, your back meeting the mattress. “If I had known Agust D would get you this worked up I would have released a mixtape two years ago,” he joked, your hands grabbing onto his sides as his lips found yours, kissing you passionately.

One of his arms was being used to prop himself up overtop you as his opposite hand slid down to your core, his fingers feeling between your legs. He groaned into your mouth at feeling how wet you’d become, and you smiled against his lips.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you used your strength to push against his body, rolling him over and straddling his hips. Yoongi’s breath was heavy and shallow as he anticipated being inside you, his large hands gripping your hips, his eyes eagerly taking in the sight of your form on top of him. He always did love you on top.

Placing one of your hands to his chest, your other found his hardened length. You stroked him a few times, Yoongi letting out a soft moan at the feeling, his hand sliding up your abdomen to your breast as he squeezed the supple flesh in his palm. At his touch, you guided him to your entrance, sharply intaking breath at the feeling of him slipping inside, letting the air out in a throaty moan.

“Fuck, Kid,” Yoongi breathed out, pinching your nipple between his fingers as you moved your hand from his dick to his chest, bracing yourself against him as you began slowly grinding atop him. Yoongi’s hand left your breast to your thigh, clutching the muscle as he bit his lip, watching your body move. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You held back a moan as you increased your pace, looking up to the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut as he hit particularly deep. “Fuck,” you breathed out, lowering your gaze to Yoongi’s face, meeting his hooded eyes as he looked up at you in bliss.

His chest was like velvet underneath your hands and you wanted to feel more of his skin on yours. As if reading your mind, Yoongi moved his hands to your lower back, pulling you toward him so your chest was flush with his. He kissed you messily as he lifted his hips off the bed to move in and out of you as he held you to his body.

“I love you so much,” he confessed shakily against your lips, his breathing erratic due to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, I love you,” you moaned, moving your face to his neck where you kissed and nibbled his skin lightly.

Wanting to treat him, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, sitting back up as you rocked back and forth on him, arching your back and placing a hand to his thigh to support yourself. Yoongi’s hands grabbed onto the sides of your legs as he watched you, looking more and more fucked out the longer you rode him.

Eyeing his thin but toned body, his smooth skin, and the flex of his abdomen as he took sharp breaths, you groaned. “You look so good,” you told him, admiring the man beneath you. Your man. All yours. “Feel so good,” you moaned.

One of Yoongi’s hands left your leg to find your hand that was pressed against his lower abdomen. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly as he locked his gaze on yours.

The intimate action had your lower abdomen tightening. Sitting up straight, you brought your hand toward him which he grabbed with his other hand, helping you to support yourself as your motions atop him became hastier, approaching your high.

“Yoon, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, squeezing your hands as you neared your climax. “Me too.”

You let out a whimper, lowering your body to Yoongi’s again, your dewy chest meeting his, Yoongi wrapping his arms around your lower back as you both worked each other into your finishes. Yoongi buried his face in your neck as he let out small muffled grunts, you breathing out a moan in his ear. As he came, he hugged your body to his tightly, letting go inside you. The feeling of him releasing had you crashing into your own high, biting your lip as you moaned breathily, Yoongi kissing your neck sweetly as you came down.

You relaxed atop Yoongi, breathing heavy as his fingers toyed with the small of your back, soothing back and forth along the curve of your ass. You had a hand on his neck, slipping your fingers into his damp strands, your other hand on his chest, dragging your fingers along his pectoral.

“The mixtape is really good,” you assured him in a whisper, kissing his jaw. “Well, what I’ve heard so far.”

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle, flattening a palm on your lower back. “Thank you, Kid.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just being honest.”

“No, thank you for always supporting me. In everything,” he clarified, emotion thick in his voice.

You lifted your head to peer at his face, catching the glassy shine in his eyes. “Always,” you assured him.

He nodded, looking at you with a soft smile. “I know,” he whispered, barely audible, giving away that he didn’t trust his voice, knowing it would break if he spoke louder. “It means- you mean the world.”

You lowered your lips to his face, giving his plush cheek a small kiss. “I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex,” you teased with a big smile, Yoongi scoffing, though he couldn’t hold back his gummy grin.

He groaned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m starving,” he changed the topic, making you giggle.

“Well, lucky for you, your girlfriend made you a delicious nearly cooked meal that is probably very cold at this point,” you smirked.

“Oh, lucky for me?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed with a small chuckle.

Yoongi sucked air between his teeth, ticking his head to the side. “Remind me to wife you up later.”

You scoffed playfully, rolling off his body as you prepared to stand up and find some clothes. “In your dreams, Min.”

Scooping your t-shirt off the floor, you slipped it over your head before grabbing a pair of panties from your dresser drawer, all while Yoongi’s eyes followed your every move. Sending your boyfriend an air kiss from where he sat at the edge of the bed watching you, you walked toward the bedroom door. “Hurry up and get dressed, Gramps, I need your album commentary.”

You exited the room, turning toward the bathroom to clean yourself up. Yoongi shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, in my dreams,” he mumbled as he stood up to get dressed. Taking his sweet ass time, you walked back past the bedroom toward the kitchen, noticing him still stumbling around for a shirt.

“Hey, hustle, Min! I still have a music video to watch, my dude!” You called out to him as he looked to you with widened eyes. “Your shirt is out here, by the way.”

“Ah, what did I tell you about patience,” he whined out, a pout on his lips as he walked through the hallway, grabbing his shirt on his way, feeling full of appreciation and adoration for you.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.”

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who’s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

Smitten was not the word you would use. It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign.

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy. -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering. Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter.

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry?

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” -- “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.”

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. “Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike Imagine #Odd Hours//Getting Even #Tumblr was doing WEIRD formatting things so i'm sorry if anything looks wonky??#Marcus Pike

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sallyf4ce · 4 years ago

Text

wolves

chapter II

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies? to lovers

-> previous | next

cw: drugs, cigarettes, abuse, panic attack

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: larry knocks (y/n) off her feet, literally. later, him and sal come to apologize, bearing a gift of homemade lasagna. sal and (y/n) bond over their similar bodies. his eyes look familiar.

The sound of your skateboard and the wind brushing past your ears practically deafened you, which allowed you to think in peace. Maybe you’d survive in Nockfell.

Maybe it wasnt as bad as you made it. You’d grow close to the old apartment, push through school, leave your mother as quickly as possible, and start fresh somewhere across the world. The only thing that you wouldn’t get close to is the forest surrounding Addison. It loomed over you, day and night, dewy pines poking out at you like a warning sign. Maybe mom moved here just so she could torture you with the forest. Remind you of what happened.

Loud footsteps joined the wheels of your skateboard. You looked back, and on your trail were those two kids from the apartment. The tall one’s face was almost right in yours. You let out a small yelp as your skateboard hit a rock and sent you tumbling to the ground, completely destroying your knees in the process.

“Shit!” larry yelled out in surprise as he dodged the skateboard that went right between his legs.

You quickly reached out to your head, trying to calm the searing pain pulsing through it. What the fuck just happened?

“What the fuck?” you groan. The blue haired boy, sal, grabbed your skateboard and came up close to you. pulling down his sleeves, he quickly grabbed your knees and covered them, soaking up the gushing blood.

“Larry!” sal turned around to face him. You winced as the fabric of his sweater clung to your knees. Your hands grabbed his to pull them off but you froze. They were soft and cold, almost like snow. How would it feel to hold them longer? Would you warm them up? or would they freeze you?

What the fuck?

You snapped out of your trance and moved them off your knees. You scowl at larry and pick your skateboard back up.

“Nice job, asshat.”

His face flushes at the insult and he moves back. Sally stands up and offers you his hand, but you dont need his help (obviously a lie, your entire body was aching like a scale 8 earthquake). You shove yourself up and wipe your burning palms on your jeans. With your feet back on the skateboard (it took a few tries to get up because your knees kept buckling), you flip them off and begin skating back to addison. You just wanted a nice fucking stroll alone, why were these fucks literally everywhere you went?

It’s around 12:45 now. You came home, took a bath, bandaged up your knees and took some tylenol. Mom was already in her bedroom and there were some leftover beer bottles on the coffee table, so she probably wouldnt wake up anytime soon. you quickly trashed the bottles and decided for a quick nap on the couch, since your room was… occupied. your pyjamas, for now anyway, consisted of an oversized grey ac/dc shirt and some soft-ass spandex shorts.

“finally, a fucking break from this shit.” a content sigh escaped your lips as you threw yourself onto the cold couch.

a few knocks sounded at your door.

“(y/n)? it’s uh, it’s sal. and larry.”

“fuck.”

THEY’RE LITERALLY EVERYWHERE WHAT THE FUCKKKK AGGHHH WHY CANT THEY LEAVE YOU ALONE THEY ALREADY BUSTED YOUR KNEES LIKE WHAT

“coming.” you mumbled angrily even though they couldn’t hear you.

the blinding fluorescent lights of the hallway hit you as you opened the door. along with them came the smell of freshly baked lasagna. your eyes widened for a second, before looking up at sal. he stared at you, taking in your appearance. your hair was ruffled, eyes blinking sleepily as they adjusted to the light. your shirt had ridden up and showed a bit of your stomach. he blushed as you pulled it down and glared at him, a slight tinge of red on your own cheeks.

“larry.” he nudged his friend. the brunette walked up in front of sal, holding a pan of lasagna.

“listen man, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to fuck up your knees n shit. jus’ got excited cause of your sanity falls shirt. can we, uh, can we come in?”

Slam.

larry quickly jumped back in surprise.

“i guess that means no.”

you yelled out a quick ‘wait!’ as you cleaned up your apartment and hid your mom’s weed and other things. god, for a grown woman, she didn’t know how to clean for shit.

opening the door back up, you waved them inside.

“god, you smoke a lot.” larry coughed a bit at the smell of your apartment, which earned him a shove.

“sorry! god, sal, so mean.” he mumbled.

“s’ my mom. i only smoke outside. uh, take a seat on the couch, i’ll warm up the lasagna.” you pulled it out of larry’s hands as they both took a seat on your makeshift bed.

sal shifted. “you sleep here?” he asked, confused. maybe your room was being used as storage.

“for now. there’s some weird ghost shit going on in my room. some fucking preppy ghost woman keeps squealing when i come in.”

ghosts? you believed in ghosts? maybe they’d be able to take you on their expeditions! sal perked up at the thought of you becoming friends.

“you believe in ghosts?”

“well, i saw one, so what else could it fucking be?” you chuckled as you shoveled the now warmed up lasagna onto three plates. sal noticed and his eyes widened.

“oh, no, i- i don’t want any-” he waves his hands.

“you’re having it, i don’t care.”

larry laughs as you shove it into their hands.

“feisty, aren’t ya?” he stabs some and shoves it into his mouth. you sigh and lean back into the couch.

“you guys go to the school here, right?”

larry nods. “yeah, there’s only one school in nockfell.”

“eww, larry face, don’t chew with food in your mouth.” sally laughs. in the corner of his eyes, he thinks he can see you smile.

“yeah, we go to nockfell high. i’m assuming you’re going there too.”

“mhm. starting monday. hurry up and eat, i’m not warming it up again.” you grumble. sal doesn’t move. “god, okay, i’ll look away. i have to go clean this thing anyway.” you wave your prosthetic’s fingers.

“oh, yeah, you also have a prosthetic!” his face shifts into a child-like curiosity. it’s a face that you’ve seen before, and it makes you giggle a bit every time. you place your hand on his lap. sal does a double take and his mask raises a bit.

“you wanna touch it, don’t you. go ahead.”

“damn, sal, you get all the ladies. leave some for me.” larry chimes in, hand on his forehead in mock sadness. he chuckles.

“you gonna touch it or what?”

“uh, yeah.” sal slowly lowers his hands onto it. he traces your fingers, flexing them every once in a while. he flips your palm and looks at the graffiti ‘s’ you drew on it.

“when was this?” he looks back up at you.

“grade 10, two years ago. got bored in class and accidentally took out my sharpie instead of a dry-erase marker. god, my mom was mad.” you chuckle at the memory. she didnt let you back in the house for two days. you had to camp out in the shed, where you stored your extra food so she wouldn’t steal it.

sal hummed. “what about this one?” it was a big ‘SF’. was it for his name? of course not, she didn’t know you back then, moron. still, it warmed him up a bit.

“not for you, that’s for sure.”

“damnnn, savage!” larry put his plate down. “mind if i get more?”

“larry, we brought it for (y/n).” sal scolded.

“nah, i don’t mind. knock yourself out.” you nodded, continuing your conversation with sal.

larry trotted towards the kitchen.

larry’s point of view:

sal and (y/n) seemed to be getting along quite well. good for him, really. we might be able to coax (y/n) into our friend group. i didn’t like her at first, but i think she’s just a little stand-offish. anyway, back to the lasagna. man, i wish mom would make it more often. she only makes it for guests. where is it? oh, there. (y/n)’s going to nockfell high, right? probably should tell her about travis.

your point of view:

sal was still tracing your arm, running his pale fingers over where the prosthetic connected to your skin. the doctors could have chopped your arm off completely, up to your elbow, but you wanted to salvage as much as you could, so it stops mid-forearm.

“do you take it off often?” sal hummed. it felt a little intimate, tracing your prosthetic. it was like soothing a part of your body that was already gone. what? what was he thinking?

“mmm, i take it off every night. if i leave it on, i could get rashes ‘n shit. rashes aren’t fun. ‘m assuming you take yours off every night too.” he nods.

“i don’t like taking it off during the day. phantom limb shit, you know? it hurts a lot.” you grumble.

“got the lasagna. since you’re going to nockfell, ‘should probably tell you about travis.” larry sits down. “he’s your typical stick-up-the-ass bully. doesn’t really like sally face ‘n our crew.”

“yeah. just ignore him and you should be fine.”

“we‘ll protect you.” larry swings an arm over your shoulder.

huh? you can protect yourself. does he think you can’t? is it because of your prosthetic?

“i can do it myself, you dimwit.” you push his arm off your shoulder.

“time for you to leave.”

“woah, dude, calm down-” larry’s eyes widen in panic. he didn’t mean to offend you.

“i’m sorry!”

“i’m not hurt, just need my sleep. it’s 1:30. go on now.”

sal sets down his cold, uneaten lasagna and larry takes a quick bite out of his.

“see ya!” he mumbled, words muffled by food. you click your teeth as he walks out of your apartment and towards the elevator.

“(y/n).”

you spin around to face sal. his hand lingers on your counter.

“your knees. how are they?”

you look at his eyes through his mask. they’re light blue. like the lake that you so dreaded. like the sky that morning. like your dad’s shirt. he blinks.

“uh, f-fine. they’re fine. they should heal in a few days. time for you to go.” you grab his shoulders and shove him through the door.

“see you tomorrow?” he stumbles.

“yeah.” the door shuts with a slam and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

oh god, not this again. your vision blurs as you try to grasp onto your breath. you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. your heart thuds like it’s going to break through your rib cage. it feels like someone is strangling you, coaxing the last breath of air from your lungs. your nails scratch at your throat desperately, your salty tears only making the marks burn more. at least the cold metal of your prosthetic cools you down a bit.

shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. you can’t wake anyone. you bite down on your lip to suppress the strangled cries leaving your mouth. god, not the lake, please. not the forest. not the huge, dirty, rabid wolf-looking creature behind your father. not his cries. please, just make it shut up. SHUT UP.

you wake up the next morning to your alarm ringing.

taglist: @purelydarling @ghostfacefricker6969 @deadpoetsandhoney

#sally face x reader #ashley campbell #larry johnson #sal fisher x reader #sally face

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sailorsero · 4 years ago

Text

nothin’ else like this - nsfw

author: claire (@sailorsero) ship: solo adult bakugou katsuki, dash of adult bakugou x gender neutral reader, side adult kaminari denki x adult shinsou hitoshi prompt/genre: birthday & food kink themed solo play wordcount: 2887 warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, kink, food fetish/food kink/sploshing a/n: • written for the Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • shoutout to @foolishfortuna who is writing an amazing food fetish kiribaku that inspired me to write this kink • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘birthday cake’ by rihanna

nothin’ else like this *** pinkyofficial • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BLASTIEST BOY IN THE GALAXY!!! @explosiongoddynamight LOVE YOU!!! 💥🧡🍹🎂😘 CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AND GET TURNT WITH MAH BOYSSS!!! BAKUSQUAD BABY!!! 👬🧍‍♀️👬 GO TELL DYNAMIGHT HAPPT BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!! #dynamight #pinky #birthdaybitch

its_cellophane: happt birthday @explosiongoddynamight pinkyofficial: @its_cellophane suddenly we’re a squad of 4 #cellowho theredriot: Look at us 🥺 can’t wait to celebrate together, love you guys!!! happy birthday bro @explosiongoddynamight ♥️ chargebolt: But can we get #birthdaybitch trending tho?? 🤔

Bakugou tutted, flicking through the photos Mina had posted to Instagram. One from last years Hero Gala, with Tweedle Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest crowded into his personal space - all smiles, suits and champagne flutes. A post-graduation selfie with the woman herself, where he felt so triumphant at moving onto the next stage of his quest to become #1, that he hadn’t even objected to the filter that gave them huge eyelashes and bear ears. A couple from their most recent meetups, candids from their school days (mostly taken without his knowledge, let alone permission; the only one that he was posing for featured a double middle finger that had set Iida off for a good fifteen minutes), one from a photoshoot his publicist had strong armed him into and his friends had christened ‘The Great Bakugou Thirst Trap of 2020’.

Bakugou did not consider himself a sentimental person, or someone who placed a great deal of importance on his own birthday; he hadn’t even made any fuss when you told him you were needed in Osaka for a mission that would take you away two days before he turned 24.

But he couldn’t help but go back to the first photo of the bunch, allowing himself a soft smile he would deny under oath.

His 17th birthday, his first birthday with - ugh - real friends. He remembered rolling his eyes when Racoon Eyes had given her blindingly pink phone to the waitress, yelling at Sparky and Tape Face when they’d shoved themselves into the same side of the booth as the rest of them, growling when Shitty Hair had told him to ‘say ‘cheese’, Bakubro!’.

They all looked so young, pre-undercuts and piercings and late teenage growth spurts. He’d have to remember the (very secret) happiness that night had brought him next time Kirishima annoyed him by stepping mud into his carpet or Kaminari pissed him off by opening his big fat mouth.

Bakugou was drawn from his thoughts by knocking on his office door. Knocking that started out strong for the first hit, dropping noticeably into something more tentative for the rest; probably once they remembered whose door they were knocking on. Kirishima had once told him that the interns drew straws on who had to ‘rattle the beast’s cage’ (interact with Bakugou). He’d know; that idiot had been rattling Bakugou’s cage 25/8 since their first year at Yuuei.

“Come in!”

The door opened far enough for an assistant who had already been by this morning with a sack of birthday cards mixed in with regular fan mail to poke their head through the gap.

“Mr Dynamight, Sir, there’s another delivery for you.”

Bakugou nodded, leaning back in his leather desk chair and stretching out his back. Damn paperwork day, and on his birthday. Fuck, was 24 the age your back started aching from sitting in a goddamn chair?!

The assistant continued as they approached the desk, despite the fact that Bakugou didn’t fucking ask.

“It’s a cake, from a lovely bakery downtown; a delivery person just dropped it off. Their cakes are exquisite, by all accounts.”

They stepped back from the desk once the baby blue box was securely placed down, a white satin ribbon wound expertly around it. An embossed logo Bakugou recognised shone under the overhead light.

The blonde’s quirk made short work of the ribbon, burning it idly with one hand so the rest could be severed with ease.

Bakugou flipped the lid of the box up, letting it fall fully open so he could inspect the contents. He blinked. He blinked again.

It was a cake. A strawberry shortcake, slathered with cream and fresh fruit, and perfectly placed in the centre was a chocolate disc with immaculately piped words.

♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYNAMIGHT ♡

“It’s from your fanclub!”

He let his eyes drift back up to the assistant, who - from what Bakugou could infer from the overly positive, cheery tone he was using - clearly thought Bakugou was seconds away from blasting the expensive gateau across his office, and was trying to avert having to call the janitorial staff back up to this floor. He understood; unbridled, perhaps not-always-reasonable rage was kind of his brand, and the cleaners had already had to make a return journey today after Kaminari had set off several sprinklers making toast.

A cake. Yes, a cake. From his fanclub. A cake from his fanclub. That he was definitely going to eat and nothing else, nothing weird! A cake for him to eat. At home. In private. As soon as possible.

“That’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s...great. It looks delicious...yes. Thanks. That’s all. You can...go.”

The assistant looked like they were struggling to process the combination of words that had just left Bakugou, but he was pleased when they decided to take this struggle on the road and left his office with a rushed “Yes, Mr Dynamight, Sir, thank you, you are welcome, good bye!” and the click of the office door.

Bakugou barely had time to drag his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he had apparently been holding since he’d spoken, before the door opened again.

“Knock knock!” “You know he says it doesn’t count if you say it instead of doing it, especially if you’ve already open- Denki!”

Bakugou groaned as Kaminari shot across the room, peering into the still-open box on the desk. “Ooh, that looks amazing, bro! Can I have some?”

“Hey, Kats! Happy birthday, man!” Kirishima beamed at him before dropping his gaze to the cake Kaminari was currently eyefucking. Bakugou slid the box an inch or two closer to himself. He steadfastly ignored the other blonde’s question.

“Thanks, Ei. What’s Dunce Face doing here - world’s worst birthday present?”

Kirishima snorted, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. “Ran into him a few blocks away on our patrols; figured we’d catch you now to say ‘happy birthday’ on the actual day instead of waiting for Saturday!”

Kaminari brought out what he probably considered the big guns; his finger guns, that he did for literally everything. “Happy birthday, Blasty! Speaking of your birthday, where did the cake come from? Sent with luuurve from Osaka? Although, that would be weird because you don’t even really like sweets and this won’t keep until Saturday when we get togeth-“

“It’s from my fanclub, Pikachu, and keep your staticky hands off my cake!” Bakugou flipped the lid back down, shielding the cake from view.

“Man, don’t be like that - there’s no way you’re gonna be able to eat all that by yourself!” Kaminari whined.

“Relax, Denks - you know Y/N has a cake ordered for Bakubro’s Belated Birthday Blowout!” Kirishima patted his back consolingly.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling it that. God, letting you guys have their number was a fucking mistake.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful; it was terrifying. “You know, I heard, one time, a hero got given a homemade cake by a fan, and when they took a bite of it, they realised they had a mouth full of the fan’s pubic hair!”

“Dude!” “What the everloving fuck, Dunce Face?!”

Kaminari just beamed, apparently proud of himself for making Bakugou question his life on the anniversary of his birth.

“Firstly, does this cake look fucking homemade to you? Secondly, where the fuck did you read that? ‘Disgusting Stories for Stupid Fucking Idiots Monthly’?”

Kaminari shrugged, nonplussed. “Sero told me.”

“Yes, then. Same thing, pretty much.”

Kirishima interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If you think Bakubro’s cake is full of pubes, why do you want to eat it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a mouthful of pubes, bro! ‘Toshi’s more of an au naturel kind of guy…”

Bakugou saw Kirishima’s (painful looking) thinking face intensify, and intervened immediately. “Ei, do not pull at this thread. He-“ Bakugou punctuated with a harsh jab towards the electric hero. “- has told us several times that he’s had Mindfucker’s dirty feet in his mouth before, not to mention all the bodily fluids, and then there’s all the disgusting public places they’ve fucked, and-“

“Don’t kinkshame me, bruh!” Kaminari cut in, sounding lowkey offended, but Bakugou noted the look of pride from before hadn’t diminished, even a little bit.

Bakugou snorted. He constantly shamed Kaminari and his walking corpse of a boyfriend, but that was because they were shamelessly disgusting oversharing nymphomaniacs and someone had to do it. Preferably before one of them creamed their pants in a karaoke bar again. That was Shinkami shaming, not kinkshaming.

He definitely had no room to kinkshame people; not with the plans he had for this cake.

***

Bakugou slammed the door to his apartment shut with his hip and laid the bakery box down on the side table so he could make quick work of his boots and jacket.

God, that had to have been the longest taxi ride of his life. He couldn’t risk the subway with such a precious cargo, so he’d had to sit in the back of the cab next to the box (that he’d had to resist the urge to belt in) and sweat in silence.

Bakugou didn’t know where this kink had come from - maybe he’d watched too much Food Network in his formative years, or passing by the bakery with the amazing smell opposite his junior high school twice a day for three years before going home to jerk it had warped his sexuality; all he knew was, he was gonna fuck this cake.

It was a shame that you were miles and miles away and unavailable for a Facetime like no other; introducing you to his kink had been one of the best weekends of his life, and he was pretty sure - if he knows you as well as he thinks he does - you’d placed an order for two birthday cakes for his belated celebrations.

Maybe you’d got other stuff in mind, too - pie, custard, ice cream, syrups, chocolate, sushi, spaghetti, fruit…and now he was half-hard, still fully dressed and standing in the hallway.

Well, you weren’t here now, but it was his birthday, dammit! He would just have to play alone, and send you some photos afterwards.

Bakugou seized the box and made quick strides until he could place it down on his bedside table.

The comforter flew off of the bed, pooling into a lavish lump on the floor right before the pillows landed one by one on top. The undersheet was last, leaving the rubber sheet beneath exposed to one of the only two people who knew it was there in the first place.

The box made its final move to the middle of the protected mattress, where Bakugou tilted it just enough to be able to coax the cake free with help from gravity and without getting it all over his hands. Not yet…

Bakugou made short work of his clothes, kicking his pants and briefs off impatiently a second before climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside his prize.

Normally, he’d take his time, play around more, have more of a plan, but today, the anticipation had him on a knife edge already. It had been nearly four hours since he’d unwrapped this gift, and he was dying to play with it.

Bakugou leant his knees spread apart, sinking into a squat so he was as close as he could get to his treat.

He was fully hard now, and gave his cock a couple of quick pumps, letting his fist settle loosely from the base down as he took a deep breath and brought his leaking tip to the side of the cake.

His breath left him in a quick rush when the first contact was made; the cream was on the cooler side, and the smooth finish of the outside of the cake was everything he had been missing since he’d last indulged himself like this.

It took all the self control Bakugou had to only push the head in, then pause and take a breath, focusing intently on every sensation as he pushed in as slowly as was physically possible.

The afternoon of waiting felt like edging, so the sensation against his cock, inch by inch, was almost too much as it was not enough.

The sponge was almost as soft and velvety as the cream, but providing some texture and resistance that felt as delicious as the dessert looked.

Bakugou let out the first of many moans as he bottomed out, the air in the bedroom already beginning to smell like sugar and strawberries - just the right side of cloying, and he knew before long it would be so heady he’d be dizzy from it.

He pulled out almost as slowly as he went in, raising himself back up a little and bracing himself with his hands on the other side of the intact cake, leaving him looking over it on his hands and knees.

His reentry at a slightly higher point of the cake wasn’t quite as slow as the first breach, but he’s never been known for his patience.

Bakugou pulled in and out a couple of times, leaving a clear hole to fuck as he began to do just that, his hips begnining to thrust in a steady rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the squishy sounds coming from between his legs to turn into sloppy ones; the delicate cake was beginning to buckle already, the defined layers enveloping his cock becoming mushy around him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he swiped his now-free hand across the top of the cake, coming away with as generous a handful of cream and strawberry slices as he could without threatening the structural integrity of the cake prematurely.

Bakugou raised his hand and smacked it right into the middle of his chest, before smearing it across his right pec, rubbing purposefully over his nipple as he did so. His hips sped up slightly without intention - or him noticing - as he alternated between smearing the food deeper into his flushed skin, and tugging on his nipple.

He could hear whimpering in his ears and it took a beat or two for Bakugou to realise they were coming from him. Fuck, it all just felt so good.

He blindly grabbed another small handful, this time coming away with some cake mixed into his spoils, before repeating the treatment on his left pec, but with a roughness borne of his increasing desperation.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I-“ He hissed out a breath, pinching his nipple firmly as he felt the cake begin to collapse inwards, the squelch of the fucking he was giving it echoing in his ears.

A final scoop of the dessert onto his fingers went straight into his mouth, his plush, pink lips parting to accommodate three fingers; he was close.

Bakugou’s balance was starting to go as his orgasm approached, so he pulled his fingers free from his tongue and resumed his position, but beginning to sink lower into the mess he was fucking into his mattress protectors. From his angle, his balls began to slap what was left of the sides of the sinking cake, and the noise that created tore another moan from the blonde.

He could feel the sticky mess coating his crotch and inner thighs, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of indulging in the kink that turned him on like nothing else, wanting to savour something he knew was nearly over.

“Oh my fuck- ing, shit, oh, fuck-“

Bakugou’s hips were moving at a frantic pace now, chasing a release inside the cake while it still had an inside.

His orgasm had been teetering for a couple of minutes, then came all at once. A shout turned into a long, drawn out moan that was almost a cry, as he spilled his release in one, two, three bursts; biting his lip so hard, he’d discover later he’d drawn blood.

His arms gave out before he’d come back to himself, his lower half landing into the gooey puddle of expensive baking with a splat that would almost have been enough to get him half hard again if his soul hadn’t just shot out of his dick into a cake.

The blonde let out a deep, satisfied sigh, smiling dopily into the shiny, specialist bedsheet. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Bakugou had only just had the energy to raise himself back onto his hands and knees when he had to find a little more to turn his head towards the door at the sound of it creaking open.

“Awh, did someone get you a birthday cake, babe?”

He nodded. You were back early.

You dropped your duffel on the floor, taking your first step towards the bed as you slid your shirt off with ease.

“Ooh, good - you saved some for me! I’m starving…”

#happy birthday bakugou!!!#my writing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

Text

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place.

* * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.”

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

* * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later.

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks.

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.”

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

* * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s.

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

* * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * *

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right.

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?”

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach.

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal.

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

* * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them.

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair.

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #15x18 au #15x20 au #fix-it #canon divergence #canon au #profoundnet #rae writes fic #psychological torture #angst

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just-my-fandom · 4 years ago

Text

Rocky Road P8 (JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader)

Part 8

Summary; Reader and JJ make up. After going fishing with Ward, John B reveals the truth suddenly to the reader about their father. The chief is now dead. John B and Sarah run away.

Warning(s); Mentions of death, mentions of getting sick (vomit)

A/N; PLEASE READ. There’s a lot of scenes I really didn’t feel like writing, such as the whole death of the chief, etc. So, I combined episodes 8, 9, and 10 together. So technically, this is the last part. But I will include an epilogue

Taglist; @bibliophilewednesday @sexualparkour @jjpouggues @poguestyle17

“So we’re okay?”

It’s the morning after. You and JJ sit on opposite edges of the hot tub, legs knee deep in the warm water.

“Yeah,” Your lips tilt in a small smile, JJs arms propped on his knees as his hands take your own, “Only if you promise to stop acting psycho,”

“Oh, totally,” JJ nods, releasing one of your hands to run it through his hair, “If me getting super drunk and having a terrible hang over last night doesn’t change me, then I don’t know what will,”

“J,” You warn, JJ huffing a short laugh before he nods, leaning forward so your faces were nearly inches apart,

“I promise,” He murmurs, raising his hand to cup the back of your neck and pull your lips against his, “Because I love you. And I’m not going to let my stupidity make me lose you,”

“Good,” You hum, raising your own hands to his hair, his body leaning forward enough to where he steps into the hot tub, arms wrapping around your waist,

But before he can pull you into the water yourself, Kiaras call to your brother causes you to pull away and look over your shoulder, JJ looking around you to watch as John B stomped across the yard of your home with a stone look on his face,

“John?” You call as Kiara did, sliding off the edge of the hot tub to slide on your flats, watching your twin brother move inside the Chateau, “JB,”

“Uh, what’s that all about?” Pope asks, as you shrug and move up the steps to the front porch, pausing as John B desperately searched for something,

“You all right, man?” Pope questions, “What’s up?”

“What’re you looking for?” Kiara rushes, irritated at the silence your brother gave to the group,

You watch as John B pulls the hand gun from under the couch cushions, “John B, what do you need the gun for?”

“Talk to us-,” JJ demands, and you move forward as soon as John B shoves JJ away, onto the pull out mattress,

“John B, what the fuck are you doing?” You shout, moving after John Bs retreating form to the backyard, “If you’re still mad at JJ from yesterday, we’re fine! We made up!”

“I don’t give a damn about the two of you,” John B grumbles, and you pause to watch him climb on JJs motorbike,

“Dude!” JJ shouts, John B finally turning with an angry snarl,

“Ward knows about the gold!” He shouts, and you huff a breath, heart nearly stopping at his next words, “He killed dad,”

“What?” You whisper, JJ quick to move up to you as John B sped away, JJs hand at your upper arm.

Your eyes leave John Bs retreating figure to look at JJ, hand resting at your stomach as you watched JJs mouth move, but no words were heard,

“Baby,” JJ calls, lifting a hand to caress your face as you swallow, thickly, “Hey, hey. Look at me,”

Quickly, you shake your head, exhaling sharply as Kiara moved up next to JJ, “She’s going to be sick-,” Kiara and Pope watch, alarmed, as you duck behind the parked van, JJs hand running down your back as you cough, violently,

“Hey, alright,” JJ murmurs, pulling you into him as his gaze shifts up to his other friends, watching Pope run a hand over his head and look in the distance where John B had left.

“Okay, I’ve never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops,” Kiara speaks from her spot at the front end of the HMS Pogue, your brows pinched as you look at her,

“And what would we say, Kie? Ward Cameron killed Big John? They’re going to think it’s some- fucking grieving mechanism for me and John B,” You huff, face hot and eyes puffy,

“They’re not gonna believe us if we tell them anything revolving Ward,” JJ states, and Pope raises his goggles,

“Hey, I see Ward,”

“I don’t know if I should be glad he’s alive for John Bs sake or not,” You mutter, tossing a rock that was in the boat into the water,

“Looks alive to me. Let’s go,” Pope orders, and you look up in confusion,

“Wait. What?”

“Obviously Mr. Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay?” Pope shakes his head, “Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours,”

“Yeah, well, our friend is in trouble,” Kiara states, Pope shrugging his shoulders,

“I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days. My dads probably put all my shit on the street by now,”

“So, you’re just gonna bail?” Kiara asks, and you look at JJ with pinched brows so the blonde moves up, protectively, “This is about friendship, this is about Pogues for life!”

“Where were you when Big John went missing? Huh?” Pope hisses, your eyes watching as Kiara glanced at you, “You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B, or Y/N,”

“Guys,” You plea, pressing yourself into JJs front, “Kie, just let him go home,”

“No, I want her to remember,” Pope snarls, finger jabbing at Kiara, “Remember your kook year? You forgot about us. Y/N lost her best friend. Her dad goes missing and you werent there for her,”

“Give me a break!” Kiara demands, shoving Popes front so Pope shoved her back, JJ quick to release you and move between his two friends,

“Guys, cut it out!” JJ orders, your arms wrapping around yourself as you blink away the burn in your eyes, “If I’m the one mediating then we’ve hit rock bottom,”

“Let’s just go home,” You murmur, JJ looking at you as you move to the wheel of the boat,

“I’ve got it,” JJ soothes, pointing to the front end of the boat where Pope departed to. “Pope, we’ll drop you off,”

You inhale a deep, slow breath, raising your hand to rub at your eye in exhaustion.

“John B, you have to go,” You stare at your twin brother. Peterkin was dead. John B was framed for her murder. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. To you, and to Sarah, but I can’t let you go to jail, for a murder you didn’t commit,”

“You weren’t an ass,” John B forces himself to chuckle, attempting to pull a smile to your face. He fails. “You were being a protective, annoying sister,”

You huff your own laugh, licking your lips, “I’m serious, John. Get Sarah, and go,”

John Bs movements are swift. His arms slide around you in an embrace, tightening around you when hearing your sniffle.

“I love you sis,” He mutters, “Seriously,”

You lean back, hitting his chest, “I love you too. Dick,”

You step away, watching John B step onto the boat JJ lended to John B. “Remember dude,” JJ steps up, arm sliding across your shoulders, “Brownsville. We’ll see you in Mexico in two months,”

“Got it,” John B smiles, watching you slide your arm behind JJs back and take his hand with your free, “Take care of her, JJ,” JJ glances down at you, “I mean it,”

The boat pulls off with a heave. Your eyes blur, looking up at JJ with a smile that matched his.

“Hands up!”

Twirling around, you barely catch a glimpse of Shoupe raising his gun before JJ pushes you behind him. In unison, the group of four raise their hands, your eyes wide,

“Where the hell is he?” Shoupe asks, roughly, “Where the hell is he?!”

“JJ,” He continues, “I see you’re living up to your name. Pope? How about you? This isn’t a fucking game!” Shoupe eyes shift to yours, “Your father would be really disappointed in you young lady,”

“Dont ever bring up my father,” You step up, one of JJs arms dropping to grasp your waist, but immediately pulls it back when Shoupe pins your hands behind your back.

“Let’s fucking go,”

“Sit down. Don’t move,” You look up from your spot inside the tent. Cops, everywhere. You felt sick again.

JJs hand takes yours, squeezing enough to guide your attention to him, where his blue eyes meet your own. JJ shifts your intertwined hands to his lap, thumb brushing across the back of your hand.

You flinch at the rough crack of thunder.

“We lost them,” Shoupe mutters, almost as soon as your ears began to ring. Like the day prior, you see everyone’s mouths moving, but no words.

Except JJ. “What do you mean you lost them?” JJs hand leaves yours as he stands, and you suddenly zone back in, “You had them on radio!”

“The storm cut out their signal,” Shoupe sighs, dropping the talkie in his hand. His head shakes, “We lost them,”

JJ is first to turn to you. Just as quick, your ears begin to ring, not hearing him call out to you. Lost them. Lost, as in, dead? Like Big John?

“Baby,” JJ tries, again, the large group watching as he knelt in front of where you still sat and raised his hands to your face, “Hey, can you hear me?”

JJ is forced to watch as you gasp in a deep breath. With a shattered sob, you nearly fall forward, JJs arms quick to catch you and pull you up into his arms.

“He didn’t do it,” You heave, eyes wide despite the tears that blocked your vision, “He didn’t- didn’t kill anyone,”

JJs arms tighten around you, before he slides his hands back to your face a second time, thumbs attempting to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Forehead against yours, he exhales a shuddered breath as you began to break down.

“Sweetheart-,” Kiaras mom barely leans away from Kiara to extend her hand to you, your head shaking as your eyes finally pinch shut in defeat,

“No,” You whisper, JJs own face crumbling, “No, no. JJ-?”

JJs arms slide around your shoulders, ducking his nose into your hair as your own grab at his button up, feeling Kiaras mom press herself behind you in another wall of comfort.

First Big John. Now, John B and Sarah?

A/N; Well that ended like shit, lol. Again, yes. I did skip a lot of scenes revolving the last three episodes. But honestly? They were unnecessary. But leave ALL feedback as you can, and I hope, pray that you enjoyed this story. It’s been a pleasure.

#jj maybank drabble #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b routeledge #sarah cameron #ward cameron

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sourwolfandlilred · 3 years ago

Text

Out in west texas, it hardly ever rains

(but when it does, it’s amazing grace)

Stiles Stilinski flipped off the radio, tired of the breathless play-by-play of the Friday night football game. Golden boy quarterback Derek Hale had already scored four touchdowns guaranteeing the “douba-yah”--as it was called around these parts--anyway.

His jeep bounced along the rutted road as storm clouds gathered in the distance. Heat lightning flashed in the distance, but it would likely burn off before it got to Marfa.

The church stood sentry on the edge of town, parched dust-cracked earth stretching for miles and miles behind it. Stiles parked the Jeep and headed inside.

To the piano.

It was an old model, the C key so worn the ivory dipped where a finger tip would rest. But it played just as pretty as the best grand out there. Stiles didn’t bother with lights, just sat on the bench, and played.

The thunder accompanied him, a deep bass line that Stiles felt in his chest. By the time he finished the song, his cheeks were damp and the storm had passed.

***

“You weren’t at the game.”

Stiles slammed his locker and rolled his eyes, side stepping Derek Hale in all his snapback, wanna-be frat boy glory. “While I’m oh-so-flattered that you noticed my absence, me thinks you should get an MRI to check for brain damage if you thought I would show in the first place.”

Derek wasn’t deterred by Stiles’s acid tongue. Instead, he fell in step beside him, despite the fact that Stiles--for reasons he wouldn’t admit to--knew that Derek’s first class was on the opposite side of the school.

“Would you come if I asked you?”

Stiles stopped abruptly enough to earn himself a curse from the freshmen behind him who hadn’t been expecting. He met Derek’s eyes. “Why would you ask me to?”

The corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up, but it was almost self-conscious rather than smug. “Does it matter?”

***

Stiles went to the fucking game.

***

Lydia Martin hosted a party every friday night to fete the celebrities of their podunk town. Stiles had never been to one, though all sixty-three of their classmates were always invited. The place was too small for bullying tactics and popularity contests.

Someone shoved a red solo cup into Stiles’s hands, and he downed half the contents in one swallow. His fingers itched for smooth ivory and he tried to ignore the jittery sensation of looking for someone in particular.

“Brooooo, you came,” Scott McCall slurred in Stiles’s ear while slinging an arm around his neck. Stiles took the weight of his drunk, pliant body, turning the tackle into a hug. They rocked like that as Stiles laughed. Scott loved everyone and everyone loved Scott, but Scott loved Stiles best.

“Hey where’s your QB?” Stiles asked as casually as possible, and Scott beamed at him. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle.

“Gazebo,” Scott waved, flashing all his white teeth so that his eyes squinted into tiny bits of happiness.

Stiles maneuvered him toward Kira and then wove his way through gyrating bodies and couples who had too little sense of what level of PDA was appropriate.

When Stiles stepped outside, his skin tingled with the electricity in the air. Something was coming.

Derek was alone, surprisingly. It seemed like he was forever surrounded by fawning groupies, or at the very least his phalanx of ride-or-die friends. Stiles didn’t bother saying hi as he sat on the bench next to him.

“Did you have fun?” Derek asked as he took a hit on his joint. Golden-boy wasn’t always so golden.

Stiles let his legs fall apart until their knees touched. “No.”

“But you came.” Derek said, said without looking at him.

“But I came,” Stiles agreed, plucking the joint out of his loose fingers. Had they been doing this dance for years now? Stiles couldn’t tell. Derek was a part of the landscape as much as the snow-topped mountains in the distance.

They’d never really been friends. Stiles’s father was the Sheriff, Derek’s mother the lawyer. They had enough crime that it caused friction between the two families. But they weren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet, either. They were just two dudes trying to make it out of this god-forsaken town anyway they could.

For Derek that was football. From the Smurf League when they’d been kindergartners it had been obvious exactly where Derek was headed in life. First draft pick for the NFL.

For Stiles it was the long-shot Juliard--a dream his mother had passed onto him the day she’d died.

He and Derek were as different as could be, and yet still...

Maybe it was the way Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles’s mouth when he took a hit. Maybe it was the Stiles let his hand drop to Derek’s thigh after he handed back the joint.

Something in the back of Stiles’s brain itched, though. Him and Derek? It wasn’t just two queer kids finding each other in bumble-fuck Texas. He just didn’t know what it was.

“Do you want to play?” Stiles asked, his eyes on the lights from the house. “Professionally I mean.”

“Nah,” Derek shook his head, earning a sharp glance from Stiles. “It’s what I’m good at but... no.” He laughed softly. “I like my brain intact.”

Stiles huffed out a breath. “Same.”

Derek glanced over. It wasn’t often that Stiles complimented him. Then he lifted one shoulder. They were close enough that it brushed Stiles’s arm. “I’ll use it to pay for college. But I want to be...”

He took a hit instead of continuing, and then handed it over to Stiles. Stiles bumped his knee against Derek’s. “Yeah?”

A blush crawled along Derek’s perfect cheekbones, and Stiles had to look away lest he do something utterly mortifying.

“I like gardening,” Derek mumbled. “I thought maybe landscape architecture.”

Maybe some version of Stiles would have laughed at the admission. The idea of snap-back wearing, pick-up truck driving, all-American stereotype in the flesh planting daisies should have been funny.

It wasn’t.

Stiles took a hit. Held the smoke in. Then in one swift move shifted so that he was in Derek’s lap, his knees on either side of Derek’s hips. Derek’s fingers came up, gripped the skin just above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans.

The moment seemed frozen in time, syrupy and unreal. Stiles leaned in and Derek’s lips parted. Smoke slipped out between them, but in the next moment, Stiles was pressing it into Derek’s mouth.

Derek breathed it in. Breathed Stiles in, really.

When they drew apart, Derek’s eyes were wide, almost vulnerable, and Stiles ached with every part of his being. He wanted this to be real.

So he ran.

***

The church was as quiet as it always was when Stiles came to practice at the old piano. He made sure of it.

But for the first time in a long time he didn’t want to play.

The keys had always offered him an escape, a dreamworld where his mother wasn’t dead, his father wasn’t an alcoholic, and he wasn’t a weird kid who talked too much and dreamed too big for this small Texas town.

For once, he didn’t want to escape.

He pressed a thumb to his lower lip, as if he could capture the warmth of Derek there. The way the tip of his tongue had darted out in what had turned into a goodbye.

“Play for me?”

Stiles didn’t startle. He’d almost expected Derek to show, though he couldn’t say why.

But you came. But I came.

Without acknowledging the request, Stiles dropped his fingers onto the keys. Amazing Grace was so easy, he didn’t have to think about it. By the time he finished, Derek was on the bench beside him. “Beautiful.”

Stiles chewed on the inside of his mouth. “My mother taught me how to play.”

A beat. And then, “Do you play because she wanted you to, or do you play because you want to.”

The question struck, like lightning, in the very center of Stiles’s chest. “Does it matter?”

It was a deliberate echo and Derek huffed. “No.”

Maybe it had seemed like walls going up when that wasn’t the case at all. So Stiles took a breath. “Aren’t all of our lives made up of a combination of that? Expectations and hopes and desires and rational thought and irrational emotions? Her wanting me to play doesn’t mean it’s any less important if it had come from nowhere. It just makes it all the more meaningful that I am doing it, doesn’t it?”

“But what about your life?” Derek asked, and in that moment Stiles realized how much Derek’s trajectory had been guided by other people.

“It’s not an either or,” Stiles said as carefully as possible. “For me.”

Derek nodded, his eyes on the piano. In the smallest voice Stiles had ever heard him use, he said, “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Stiles nearly laughed at that. But instead he nudged Derek’s shoulder. “No matter what you do, I’m pretty sure it would be impossible for you to disappoint anyone.” He searched for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t dismiss the fear, the ones that wouldn’t add more weight to Derek’s shoulders. “I would be proud of you no matter what you do.”

That blush again, the one that would drive Stiles to distraction. “Play it again for me?”

“Anytime,” Stiles promised and surprised himself by meaning it.

Outside the clouds opened up and the rain beat against the windows.

Inside, Derek hooked his ankle around Stiles’s, and the music played.

#sterek #sterek drabble #high school au #football au #stiles #derek hale deserves nice things #sterek fluff #sterek fic

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 years ago

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What Ifs–Zac Efron

Masterlist

Zac's POV

I looked up, my face burning when I saw Y/N walking with her eyes focused on her iPad. Her hair was tossed over one shoulder as she chewed on her bottom lip.

She looked up, our eyes instantly falling on each other. She smiled as she walked over to me, tucking her iPad under her arm.

"Hey, Zac," she greeted as she walked up to me. "I'm glad I caught you before you went back to the hotel."

"Yeah," I said, trying to hide the shakiness. "What can I do for you?"

I'd like to take you to dinner, I thought. And maybe more. . .

"Well, the jet leaves tomorrow morning at 10," she started to explain our travel planes. "The latest they need you at the airport is 9:30 so you can sleep in a little, but try not to sleep too late. I feel like I should give you a wake-up call."

"Only if you come into the room, banging pots and pans together," I tried to say teasingly. I smiled victoriously when I made her laugh.

"Is that what it takes to wake up the Zac Efron?" She teased back.

"I'm a heavy sleeper," I shrugged.

"Anyway," she chuckled, "I'll have a car waiting for you outside the hotel at 9. The flight is supposed to be about 5 hours. It's a little longer than our previous flights, but I have a bag of games if you get restless."

She sent me a teasing wink before going through the rest of my schedule. I met Y/N during my first meeting with Netflix about the show. Netflix hired her to be my assistant while we traveled. The more I talked to her, the more I realized she was too good to just be an assistant.

"Why are you working for Netflix?" I blurted out without thinking. "I mean. . . You have all the certifications, training, and experience to be a travel agent, and yet you work for Netflix, planning our trips. Why aren't you working for some big travel agency?"

I held my breath, expecting her to be offended but she laughed.

"It's simple," she shrugged. "I could plan the vacation of a lifetime for a family, or I can help you plan adventures for you and your viewers."

"I didn't think about it like that," I said under my breath. She sent me a smile, about to say something but was cut off.

"Y/N?" We turned around to see Darin waving her over.

"I'll see you later?" She asked as she slowly started to walk away.

"Yeah," I stuttered. "Definitely."

* * * * *

"Tell me something," Dylan laughed as he sat on the desk. "How long have you had a high-school crush on your assistant?"

I froze with my pair of pants still in my hand. I cleared my throat before putting my pants in my suitcase and grabbing a shirt.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, clearing my throat.

"Come on," my brother scoffed. "It's so obvious."

"It is not," I defended myself. I cleared my throat again when I saw the knowing look on his face.

"Everyone knows, man," he sighed.

"Everyone?" I stuttered.

"Well, not everyone," he smirked. "Y/N is completely clueless to you being in love with her."

"I'm not. . ."

"Zac," he sighed. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"You're forcing yourself not to fall for Y/N."

"What?" I scoffed. "I'm not. . ."

"You are," he cut me off. "Ever since you got your life back on track, since you decided to step away from Hollywood, you haven't been allowing yourself to be happy. You're self-sabotaging, Zac."

"What do you mean?" I asked, barely audible.

"You know that being with Y/N could make you incredibly happy," he explained, "but you refuse to break down your walls for her."

I took a shaky breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I ran my fingers through my hair and leaned my elbows on my knees.

"What if I tell her and she doesn't feel the same?"

"What if she does and you never find out?"

I looked down at my hands, nervously rubbing them together. I took a shaky breath before looking back up at my brother.

"I can't," I stuttered.

"Zac," he started but I cut him off.

"I can't drag her into this," I said, standing up and wiping my hands on my pants. "I'm a mess and she doesn't deserve a guy who will only drag her down."

* * * * *

The next morning, I walked into the hotel lobby to see Dylan talking to Y/N. I bit my lip, holding in a smile when she laughed at something my brother said. A wave of jealousy washed over me as Y/N reached forward and touched his arm as she laughed. She playfully pushed him before shaking her head.

I watched as she excused herself and walked away from my brother with a smile still on her face. As she went to check with the guy behind the desk, I walked over to Dylan.

"Hey," I said, trying to hide my jealousy. "What were you and Y/N talking about?"

"You were jealous," Dylan laughed. He cleared his throat when he saw the way I was looking at him. "Come on," he sighed.

"What?" I stuttered.

"Y/N and I were talking about horrible hotels we've stayed in, but you thought we were flirting," he said in a knowing tone. "Zac, a guy isn't jealous when a girl talks to another guy unless he has feelings for her. The idea of Y/N being with another guy obviously bothers you."

"Maybe," I said under my breath.

"Then do something about it!" He sighed. "You care about Y/N. So tell her before some other guy comes around and notices how amazing she is."

"But what if. . ."

"Enough with the 'what ifs', Zac," Dylan cut me off. "Those are the two most damning words in the English language. When put together, those two words have the ability to stop you in your tracks, force you back into a whole, and make you lose the one person who could make you happy."

I glanced over at Y/N, nervously chewing my bottom lip. "You really think I should ask her out?" I mumbled.

"Ask her out before Steve does."

"Wait, what?" I asked, stopping him from walking away. "Steve, the camera guy likes Y/N?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "Almost as much as you do. He's had a thing for her since we hired him after Mark left."

Dylan smirked and nodded towards Y/N. My heart sank into my stomach when I saw Steve walking over to Y/N and start talking to her.

"Dude," Dylan said, clearing his throat. "Just go get her."

I left my brother and walked over to Y/N and Steve, interrupting their conversation.

"Hey," Y/N said, turning away from Steve and towards me. "You ready to go?"

"I am," I nodded. "Thanks to you."

"I know," Steve chuckled. "I don't know where we would be without her."

"We'd probably be stuck in LAX."

My comment made Y/N laugh. I hid my victorious smirk as Steve excused himself and helped organize the luggage.

"So," Y/N said, slightly clearing her throat. "Are you excited to go to Puerto Rico?"

"I am," I chuckled. "I'm kinda surprised you got Chef José Andrés to agree to do our show."

"It actually wasn't that hard to get him to agree," she shrugged. "I just told him what message you were trying to portray and what you'd already done in the previous cities. He loved it and jumped at the chance to be a part of it."

"Wow," I said under my breath. "That's. . . Amazing."

"That's my job," she joked. "Oh! I think I might be able to get permission for you to milk a goat and try some ceviche."

"What's ceviche?"

"It's a seafood dish with diced cubes of raw fish marinated in either a lemon or lime juice mixture," she explained. "The reaction of the citrus juices cure the fish protein and causes it to become. . . What?"

She cut herself off when she saw the look on my face. She nervously bit her bottom lip, her cheeks turning red.

"Nothing," I chuckled. "Sorry. I just. . . I love how excited you get about this kinda stuff."

"Oh," she said under her breath.

"I love how passionate you get about work," I continued. "I mean, you could be working for a big travel agency. I know you said you like this better, but you could be doing a lot more and you choose to plan my galavanting around the world."

"I like planning your galavanting," she giggled.

"And I like you."

My eyes widened when I blurted that out. Y/N's eyes slowly widened as my words registered.

"You. . . You what?" She asked under her breath. I sighed, deciding not to hold back anymore.

"I like you," I confessed. "I like you a lot, Y/N. Ever since you started working with us, I find myself wanting nothing more than to spend time with you. The experiences I've had have been incredible, but I find myself still wanting to see you at the end of the day. I know it's not exactly professional for us to start dating, and I'm not assuming that you'd be willing to go out with me, but I couldn't handle thinking 'what if' anymore."

Y/N reached up and covered my mouth with her hand, cutting me off. She smiled up at me as she slowly moved her hand away from my mouth.

"If you stopped nervously rambling, I could tell you that I like you too," she said, her voice soft.

"You. . . You do?"

"I like you a lot, Zac," she chuckled, her cheeks turning pink. "Ever since I started working with you, I find myself wanting nothing more than to spend time with you."

It was my turn to cut her off as I grabbed her waist and pulled her into me. She gasped as I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. She didn't hesitate before kissing me back.

As our lips moved in sync, I tightened my arms around her and pulled her closer to me. I felt her smile as she slid her hands up my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck.

We pulled apart when we heard someone yelling that the airport shuttle was outside. We looked into each other's eyes, not saying anything as we smiled at each other.

"Do you think, when we get to Puerto Rico, I can take you out to dinner?" I asked under my breath.

"As long as we don't have to catch, gut, and kill our dinner," she teased, "I'm down."

#zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader

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creat0r-cat · 3 years ago

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Bill Cipher x reader (5) - Creator and Demon

-----

Hearing giggles from outside, Dipper and I turned around, looking through the triangle window. There we saw Norman walking toward Mable just like a zombie. "OH NO! MABLE!!" Exclaimed Dipper, hand pressed firmly against the glass.

Mable's boyfriend grabbed her shoulders and I felt my panic rise. Did I actually just let a zombie with my little sister?? My right eye started burning from underneath my eyepatch. 'Aw hecc no.' I was about to go running downstairs to stop what ever was about to happen when Norman suddenly let go, and now displayed proudly was a necklace made of flowers.

Mable was shocked and smiled at him. "Daisies? Awww you scallywag~" I let out a relieved sigh and the burning stopped. Dipper slid off the window seat and mumbled quietly, "Is my sister really dating a zombie or am I going nuts?" I was about to add a quote but both of us were startled by Soos's voice entering the conversation. "It's a dilemma to be sure."

Dipper jumped back in shock and we saw Soos replacing a lightbulb on the ceiling. 'How did nobody hear or see him come in???' "I couldn't help but overhear you talking to yourselves in this big empty room." I almost laughed at how nonchalant he was about this. "Soos, you've met Mable's boyfriend. You think he might be a zombie, right?" He asked this hopefully and I felt pity for the young lad.

"Hmm. How many brains did you se the guy eat?" I smirked at Soos's logic. "Zero." Dipper and I said at the same time. "Look dude, I believe you. I'm noticing weird stuff in this town all the time. Like, the mailman, pretty sure that dude's a werewolf." He looked like he was having a flashback then continued, "but you gotta have evidence. Otherwise people are gonna think you're a major league cookoo clock."

"Yea Soos, you're right..." Dipper said dejectedly and the handyman nodded. "My knowledge is both a blessing and a curse." He said solemnly as Grunkle Stan shouted up from wherever he was, "Soos! Get down here! The portable toilets are clogged again!" I blinked and looked toward the stairwell. "The WHAT?" Soos secured his hat, "I am needed elsewhere." Then walked backward out of the room like a friggin secret agent.

"Welp. That just happened. Back to Mable and Norman though. If we want to figure out exactly what or who Norman actually is, we need to start gathering evidence." I said, turning to a dazed Dipper. He closed the journal and nodded.

And so, for the next few hours, Dipper and I followed the new couple on their "date" and began our little adventure.

During frisbee, Mable tossed the toy to Norman where it hit his head. He fell down like he had either fainted or died. Dipper looked away from where he was recording. "Omgosh did he just die?" I asked in confusion and slight panic. Fortunately he got back up.

Entering "The Greasy Diner", Norman broke the window so he could reach the doorknob and open the door for Mable. Dipper and I were seated nearby, hiding ourselves with the menus, and holy hecc, Norman could not walk normally for the life of him.

Finally, Mable and he were running around in the Cemetery when he suddenly fell into an open grave. He came put in the same manner that a zombie would in a movie, both of them laughing it off like it was on purpose.

After that, Dipper and I headed home. I felt hot and tired, and my eyepatch was bothering me, but I couldn't take it off in the presence of other people. No one wanted to see what was under it. Dipper and I barged into Mable's room where she was brushing her long brown hair.

"Mable, we need to talk." Dipper and I said in unison. Mable turned to us and smiled. "Is it about Norman? Isn't he the best? Look at this smooch mark he gave me!" She showed us a large red spot on her cheek and I gasped. 'Please tell me he didn't bite her or anything like that.'

Mable began laughing. "Haha! Gullible! It was actually from an accident with the leaf blower. That was fun." She never lost her smile and I was more worried about her mental sanity more than physical at this point.

"Mable, listen, we're trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems." He pulled the journal from under his jacket and Mable gasped. "Do you think he might be a vampire??" Mable seemed almost excited about that and I sighed thinking about those romantic vampire stories she sometimes read.

"Guess again sister. SHABAM!" Dipper said, opening the book to a specific page. Mable looked at it and gasped. I looked at it and laughed. It was the gnome page. Dipper saw it and flipped the page mumbling about it being the wrong page. "SHABAM!" He said, again showing the book. Mable now looked confused. "A zombie? Really? That's not funny you guys."

"No Mable! I'm serious! It all adds up! The bleeding, the limp, he never blinks!! Have you noticed that???" That was true, but some people are just able to do that. "Maybe he's just blinking when you're blinking." Mable suggested and I shrugged when she looked at me.

"Mable, do you remember what the journal said about Gravity Falls? Trust no one!"

"But what about me? You can trust me!" She made robot sounds when she put on two star earrings. "MABLE LISTEN TO ME HE IS GOING TO EAT YOUR BRAIN!!" said Dipper, asking him and I pushed the two apart. He was going a little too far and Mable looked pissed.

"Dipper, listen to me. Norman and I are going on a date at 5:00 and I am going to look adorable! And he's going with me, and it will not be ruined by one of your stupid conspiracies!" She said angrily, shoving him out of the room. She turned to me. "What about you, anything you wanna say?" She still looked like she was gonna kick my butt if I said something wrong.

I sighed, "Enjoy your date Mable. I'm happy you have someone who makes you happy too, just be careful alright, Shooting Star? I really don't trust him." I walked out of the room before she could reply and closed the door gently behind me.

Dipper was sitting down against the wall looking panicked. Just then, the door bell rang and Mable rushed out of the room and downstairs to the door in a new sweater. 'How in the world?' I could hear her voice greeting her boyfriend and asking how she looked. There came a rough "Shiny." From Norman and Mable giggled. "You always know what to say." Before I came downstairs and watched them walk away together.

Dipper sighed and sat on the old recliner. "Soos is right. I don't have any proof. He began running through his recordings of Mable and Norman's previous date and we stopped on a recording of them cuddling. "Norman's hand fell off in that recording. Why aren't we talking about that?" I said, pointing out. "Now that I mention it, why didn't we notice it when we were recording it?" Dipper snapped out of his depressed trance and let out a shocked yelp. Indeed, in that recording, Norman's hand fell off and he put it back on, looking around to see if anyone was watching.

Dipper knocked over the recliner in panic and I stepped back before it hit my foot. Dipper was repeating "omgosh I was right I was right I was right!" As he rushed out the door. I followed right behind him after putting the chair back up. He began calling for Grunkle Stan who was giving on of his tourist trap tours.

Dipper tried to explain what was happening, but didn't get very far with him. Then, looking to the side of the house, there was... WENDY!!! Both of us ran to her. "Wendy! I need to borrow the golf car so I can save my sister from a zombie!!" Wendy looked at me and I nodded. She handed me the keys and gave me a finger gun. "Try not to hit any pedestrians!"

We were stopped by Soos almost immediately as we headed off, him giving us a shovel for the zombies and a baseball bat in case we saw a piñata. We quickly thanked him and then with the roar of the engine, we sped off to find our sister.

#bill cipher x reader #dipper pines #mable pines #gravity falls

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years ago

Text

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

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