#i havent the words to express how i love him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saerins · 1 year ago

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─── & 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 4k | content: slight angst, established relationship, friends/exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, breakup, mentions of jealousy, implied adults here

notes: DISCLAIMER I HAVENT WRITTEN PROPERLY IN A WHILE so it’s probably quite shitty but i missed him ok !!! T_T sobs i hope you guys like this one <3

summary: sae’s still learning the ropes on being in a relationship, and sometimes you think you can’t wait any longer. but this is itoshi sae, maybe you can.

sae hates this sickly tension in the air.

your brows are furrowed and you’re biting your lower lip; it’s the look of confusion that he’s not very used to, but is most aware of anyway. it’s the look you always carry when you’re upset and conflicted and you’re trying not to say any more than you already have on the off chance that you’d cry after you do.

it’s not your fault for getting jealous—sae knows that. all it is is an unfortunate byproduct of him not being around as much as you need him to. but in his head, his mind tells him one thing only: how can you expect him to when that’s what his career entails?

didn’t you know that before agreeing to be his girlfriend?

maybe you’re painfully aware of how it’s neither of your faults, and maybe that’s why you’re really confused. because there’s no one to blame. sae wasn’t to blame for having to show up at an event with some famous actress. he was doing his job. he had told you not to go, but somehow oliver had taken it upon himself to invite you anyway.

“i’m at every event with a different girl, the tabloids wouldn’t suspect a thing about her being your girlfriend, right?”

famous last words because sae’s going to have to kill him one day for that.

beside you on the couch, sae’s head falls to his hands, elbows propped on his knees. it’s not your fault either, he realises, for not being able to take it when you experience firsthand how people gush over him and saiko, the actress. you aren’t used to this life. maybe you shouldn’t have to.

“i don’t know what to do anymore, sae.”

after an entire hour of arguing how he should at least talk to you about these things instead of throwing them under the rug, after an entire hour of how sae tried to defend himself by saying he couldn’t possibly read your mind—you’re both exhausted.

“well i don’t fucking know neither,” he confesses, half snaps, and his head is still in his hands. he knows you’re looking at him, wanting to search his expression for answers that he can’t give verbally. but sae doesn’t want you to see him like this, unsure and conflicted, almost as much as you.

through your eyes, you’ve never felt more rejected than you do when you look at your entire world and see it refuse to let you in. his hair is a mess now, from running after you in the rain, his expression is unreadable and his clothes soaking through his body. sae is always like this when there’s a fight—always avoiding the hard conversations.

and maybe you would’ve let it slide if you’re sure of his feelings for you, but you’re not. you’ve been friends with sae for three years, been together with him for six months. but in all this time, he’s never actually told you how he feels for you. not a small utterance of his love, or any indication of his feelings through text.

no matter how strong or optimistic you are, you aren’t sure if you can last any longer like this.

“sae, can you answer me honestly?”

he doesn’t say a thing, but you know he’s listening. he always does. which is why it hurts even more when he doesn’t do anything whenever you argue. because you know that out of everyone, itoshi sae best knows what you need.

but he won’t do it.

“do you still want this?”

a suffocating silence blankets the room, and after an agonising two minutes, you get your answer in his silence.

slowly, you get up off the couch, and you can almost laugh at why your impending departure is the only thing that can make him look at you.

“i’m sorry, sae, i can’t do this anymore,” you tell him, smiling even though you’re crying, and for a moment, the way he widens his beautiful teal eyes and how he instinctively reaches out to grab your wrist almost breaks you. but you’ve decided, and it’s too late now. “i’ll find an apartment and move out as soon as i can.”

when sae watches you retreat to your shared bedroom and lock the door, he realises by the plunging of his heart that he’s not okay with this. that he’s not okay with letting you leave. it’s stupid why he can’t even find the fucking words to say because he does, he does want this.

that’s why he rushes to the door, knocks rapidly in succession only to hear silence in return. and now he knows exactly how you feel. you’ve always been the vocal one, always been there—armed with your assurances that you never realised he needed, coupled with your smile that drives every negativity in his head away.

“y/n, open the door,” sae tries, but you don’t respond. he hears the tap switching on and he’s cursing himself in his head. his forehead presses against the white wooden surface, unable to bring himself away. “y/n, talk to me.”

for the first time since he met you, you don’t listen.

the next morning is even more torturous than the night sae spent not sleeping.

when you finally come out of the room, you feel like a stranger. your hair’s done up, your makeup fresh, the smile on your face is still gone.

“morning.”

your eyes flick up to meet his as you walk to the kitchen, but they don’t light up like they used to. he can see you swallowing the lump in your throat before you choke out a good morning in return, though it’s strained.

have you been crying all night?

“listen, can we talk about last night?” sae asks, but it’s futile.

the way you close the fridge door carelessly sits uncomfortably with him, only because he feels like he recognises you even less. the way you smile after that is so forced he would rather you didn’t.

“oh right, about that, good news,” you try to sound chirpy, but it settles awkwardly between the both of you. “i managed to find some listings, so i’m gonna go check them out. fingers crossed i’ll be out of your hair soon!”

you’re prancing around the kitchen like a madwoman, humming tunes he doesn’t know and playing the part of not you all too well.

“y/n, i don’t want you to—”

“stop, sae,” you cut him off, heart broken and head buried in the cupboard.

he saunters to your side, not daring to get too close to you, afraid you’d just retreat further away. “tell me what i can do.” a part of him wants you to ask him that question again, so that he can answer now. so that he can tell you how he really feels.

but it doesn’t come. you’re just staring blankly at the wall.

when his gaze falls to your neck, he realises that necklace he gave you isn’t there like it used to be everyday. his heart sinks even further. “you’re not wearing it anymore?”

it’s stupid of him to expect you to. as of last night, you both were as good as broken up, after all.

“y/n, can we talk? i really—”

“sae, enough,” you utter through gritted teeth. “i don’t want to hear it anymore.”

—love you. that’s what he wants to say. but you’re past caring, it seems.

sae’s lips are sewn tightly shut after that, both of you eating breakfast in silence. you’re eating what you cooked, some sausages and a sunny egg and toast while sae’s stuck with cereal because you usually do all the cooking.

you don’t look at him, and he doesn’t look at you. the hands on the analog clock are all either of you hear aside from your own chewing.

“at least let me drive you,” sae says as you head for the door, slipping into your sneakers.

your hand hovers over the doorknob, as though you’re considering it, and for a minute sae is hopeful, but then the next minute, you pour water over his fire.

“it’s fine, i can manage fine on my own.”

for some reason, sae feels like you’re telling him that for much more than just today.

days pass and you’ve barely spoken two words to each other. sae finds himself taking the chance to look at you much more than he has before; you still look tired. maybe it’s from all the house visiting, or maybe it’s the outcome of being with him. he’s still not okay with you moving, with you not being in his life, but sae’s stuck at a loss of what to do.

you’d been spearheading this relationship all this time that now, sae has no idea what to do. any attempt at a conversation is thwarted by you, and any time he comes near you, you relegate to the room and lock yourself in there.

sae’s taken his necessities and moved to the guest bedroom, and he thinks it’s so stupid to think that sleeping in a different room is better than being at a different apartment altogether.

but how long until you find a suitable apartment and move out? how long until sae has zero chance at being able to see you again?

“that sounds like a you problem though.”

as sae sits across the booth and deadpans at his younger brother, he thinks maybe the most useless thing you’ve ever done is repairing their relationship. especially with rin mumbling useless shit like that.

“yeah, thanks for the help,” sae rolls his eyes, watching as rin pops a nugget into his mouth.

“why didn’t you answer her then?” rin surveys his older brother’s movements; uncomfortable, awkward, reserved. he’s amazed that anyone can get sae like this, if he’s honest. he doesn’t usually give a shit about anything that doesn’t concern himself.

sae sighs. if he knew, he wouldn’t be here. he’d be with you, trying to explain how fucked up he is and why he didn’t say shit when he should’ve. but now, you won’t even give him the chance to talk without shutting yourself away.

rin groans, thoroughly annoyed because unbeknownst to his brother, you’d already filled rin in on everything. besides, you’re kind of already like a sister to him anyway. and you’re better at being an older sibling than sae is, granted.

“do you still want her though?” rin asks. it’s kind of tiring, being in the middle, being told by both parties to not say a thing to the other. he’s also tired of sae and his cryptic messages when he wants advice but is too proud to outright ask for it. and also of you whining in his messages about how if sae keeps this up you can’t keep being strong about this anymore.

“yeah.”

sae’s answer is surprisingly simple, and rin is entirely unamused.

“yeah maybe i see why she left you.”

“excuse me?”

rin meets his brother’s gaze, unrelenting. “you still want her yet you’re here telling me about it instead of her. i think you’d win best boyfriend of the millenia award.”

rin is dripping with sarcasm and maybe if he wasn’t his brother sae would’ve already punched him. but by the end of the night, sae can only come to one conclusion; it’s his fault for not talking it out when he could. so he could either let you go, or try, just like you did before.

he’d have to do it tonight, unless he wants to wait another month after his match next week in the states. but if he does, you’d be gone by then, he knows it. so he has to make it tonight.

and he’s hopeful, because he’ll make it fucking work no matter what he has to do. he’s not going to back down that easily, not anymore. and he knows it’s late and it’s 11pm and you’re probably asleep but fuck, you’re just going to have to wake up when he pounds hard on the bedroom door.

which is exactly what he plans to do—wake you up, talk to you, and tell him how fucking stupid he is and that he’s sorry and he fucked up.

it probably won’t make up for all the times he failed to speak when he should’ve, but sae thinks it’s a start.

so he unlocks the front door and walks straight to your bedroom door, but when he reaches up to knock it, he realises it isn’t even locked. when he slowly opens the door, you aren’t even there.

sae knows what to expect, but he still opens the closet anyway. and all the drawers. and inspects the bathroom. but every trace of you is gone. even the photos in the living room that had been all framed up. it’s no longer there. you probably threw them somewhere.

fuck.

he’d chase you if he could, but you’re already long gone. his calls aren’t even going through—did you block him already? not even a goodbye note, nothing.

it’s useless, but he opens your chat thread anyway.

y/n, come back. i still want this.

but it reads undelivered.

it’s a long shot. a very, very, slim chance.

sae tries to take it anyway.

a month later, the moment he touches down and puts his luggage back at home, he grabs his car keys and makes a break for your favourite hangout; a cosy family cafe at the edge of the city, near your workplace. he’s taken you there many times before on your request, and if there’s anywhere he’ll find you, he bets it’s there.

after a whole agonising month of trying and failing to talk to you, sae’s still going to try. fuck it if you reject him after that—at least he gets to say he tried.

he sits at the cafe from noon till evening, five hours of occupying the spot at the corner—your favourite one because you say it shades from the sun and it’s easy to wave the waiter over.

sae’s beginning to think that you’re not coming today, but then he sees a familiar figure strolling into the cafe. it’s not you, but it’s your best friend, suzuki, if he remembers correctly. suzuki, the one with the black hair and sharp blue eyes because the moment she walks in, she spots him in the corner, a knowing smirk on her face.

“what’re you doing here?” she asks, without a greeting first, because you probably told her what happened and she’s probably not very happy with him.

sae sighs, feeling stupid sitting here for five hours. although at least, she’s confirmation that you’ll be here soon.

“eating.” weak excuse, but whatever.

suzuki cocks a brow, “sure you’re not just a pathetic loverboy waiting for my best friend?”

is this embarrassment even worth it anymore?

before suzuki can say any more, sae hears a very familiar voice speaking his name, and there it is again—all the negativity seeped out of him in an instant.

“y/n, hey,” he greets, as though you haven’t been avoiding him this whole time.

on your part, you acknowledge him, which is way better than what he expected (you storming out and running away from him).

“what’re you doing here?”

sae wants to talk to you, but with suzuki’s eyes glued onto him, it kind of ruins the mood. still, this is the most you’ve spoken in two months and he’s not about to pass that up.

“i wanted to talk to you,” he says, keeping his voice down. “meet me after dinner?”

there is hesitance in your eyes, but your gazes meet again and for the first time since that night, sae is greeted with your genuine smile—“yeah, sure.”

just like that he’s taken back to three years ago when he first met you, when he first saw you smile at him and instantly knew that he had to have you, somehow. sae’s stupid to have hurt you however he did, he knows that now.

but now, selfish as it is, he can only hope that you haven’t moved on yet.

sae puts your new address into his phone as you get into the car, fortunately agreeing to let sae drive you home.

“so, how’ve you been?”

it’s a stupid question to start with, and he hates himself for not getting to the point, but sue him; he’s still somehow afraid you’d shut him out straightaway if you knew what he really wanted to talk about.

your fingers rest awkwardly on your lap. sae can’t help but remember how they used to crawl over to the driver’s seat, resting on his thighs or teasingly curling his hair.

“i’m okay, finally left that job of mine.”

the one with the overbearing boss who micromanages way too much—yeah, sae remembers. he really wishes he’d treasured the little things more when he had them, like your small updates on your job and your family, or even the way you’d routinely text him everyday after work to see what he wanted for dinner.

“found a new one yet?”

you look out the window where you’d usually look at him. guess this is still awkward for you. “nope, but i’m working on it. i have a couple of interviews scheduled next week.”

“that’s nice,” sae responds, albeit half-heartedly because he’s never been good at conversations like these.

(on your end, you can’t help but realise how slow he’s driving even when there’s no other car in front of him. a part of your heart warms at the fact that maybe itoshi sae wants more time with you after all.)

“how about you? how was the match in london? heard you guys won by a huge margin.” (that’s a lie. you didn’t hear anything, you watched the match, stayed up late and all. nothing that sae needs to know.)

sae can tell you’re lying though, because you have that little habit where your ears twitch ever so slightly when you speak, and he chuckles softly. “it’s not a crime to watch my match, you know?”

your cheeks heat up—you really shouldn’t have asked anything at all. you whip your head towards him, sulking, “i didn’t watch it, okay?”

“sure, whatever you say,” sae tells you, feeling the tension lift off, feeling the normal you come back again. “how’s the new house?”

“it’s… okay. my roommate’s a little bit annoying but i can live with it.”

sae thought he could endure the small talk a little longer, but he can’t. not really. because the words just slip out of his mouth.

“then move back in with me.”

the car comes to a stop at a red light, and neither of you can look at each other. sae wonders if you’re just going to be impulsive and run out the door.

you don’t.

“it’ll be a little awkward living with an ex, don’t you think?”

“then all you have to do is get back with me,” sae answers, witty as you always remembered.

a moving car isn’t the best place to have this conversation, but if he doesn’t take the chance now, what if he loses it forever?

“i was stupid, okay? i don’t know why i didn’t say anything back then but the answer is yes, yes i do still want this- you.”

and it takes you aback slightly, because he’s never been one to be so vocal about his emotions. it kind of scares you a little too, how easily you fold when it comes to sae. it took everything in you to block his number that day, and everywhere else, and you’ve been hard at work trying to forget him, to the extent you’d agreed to room with some male even though you knew it was a bad idea.

but the moment you saw sae in that cafe, everything goes back to square one. and you’re kind of sick of lying to yourself—that the way you left didn’t leave a gaping hole in your heart, that the way you blocked him didn’t leave you chock full of regrets.

“maybe you should’ve said that before i left, then.” but you’re also stubborn, so there’s that.

sae pulls up outside of your new apartment complex right as the words leave your mouth, but his hand reaches out to grip your wrist after you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“i know i probably wasn’t a good boyfriend—” sae can’t bring himself to look at you as he speaks the words he thought would never leave his mouth— “but i promise i’ll work on it, ‘kay? just- don’t leave.”

again.

maybe in another life, you’re stronger than this. in that other life, maybe sae’s better at being expressive, better at reassuring you.

your eyes flick across the car to meet his, and he’s looking right at you, a sort of gaze that you’ve never really quite seen before—a mixture of both faith and fear. his grip on your wrist is firm, as if he’s afraid you didn’t believe him when he uttered those words.

“you make it very hard to stay broken up, you know that?” you’re pouting, hard, if only to try to keep yourself from smiling.

and the second you respond, the second he realises you didn’t reject him, his expression levels with that of a—how would you describe it, a golden retriever? as though he’s wagging his tail.

“so- you’re willing to give this a shot?”

you chew your inner cheek, “not so fast, hot shot. i’m not taking you back that easily.”

sae pulls back, cocking a brow, but he knows by the tone of your voice that his chance is at least granted. “what do you mean?”

you grin, “maybe i want you to chase me again, itoshi sae. can’t have you thinking i’m that easy to get, you know?”

your future boyfriend smirks, shaking his head. “you’re impossible, y/n l/n.” you hear nothing but fondness in his voice.

and just like the good boyfriend he envisions himself to be in the future, he walks you up to your doorstep, complete with giving a peck on your forehead when you arrive.

“how am i doing so far?”

“sae, it’s only been an entire elevator ride!” you laugh, sae pecking even more kisses onto your face. what makes this entirely more amusing is how he’s so straight-faced while doing it. “okay okay, i’ll rate you a six so far. you’re gonna have to do better on those dates you’ll ask me out on.”

he thinks you’re such a tease, but hey, he wouldn’t have you any other way.

when you open the door, you turn around to look at him, pressing your lips into a firm line before placing a quick kiss on his lips, making his heart skip two beats because he didn’t think you’d be so kind.

“see you soon, itoshi sae?”

sae nods, “yeah tomorrow.”

“someone’s eager,” you chuckle, though you agree to it. “see you tomorrow.”

bonus: the next day

“itoshi sae, you’re too much.”

you’re lugging your suitcase behind you, sae carrying one of the heavier boxes. he keeps quiet, a sullen expression on his face.

“we could’ve at least waited for the movers to be available, you know?” you sigh as you get into the lift, sae pressing the topmost floor—back to the apartment you shared after a mere month of living on your own.

sae’s expression is now tilted towards you, and you don’t need him to speak to know what he’s thinking.

“do i really deserve the silent treatment for this?”

you’re not really arguing, but having a little disagreement. a small part of you is happy you get to do this with sae again, and not anyone else. that just means you two are that much closer, still.

“as if i’m gonna let you continue living there.”

you scoff, “what are you talking about? that apartment was completely fine!”

sae raises a brow, completely aware that you’re not actually back together but not being able to help himself nonetheless. because like hell is he ever allowing you to live there ever again.

“don’t fucking care, you’re not living with that michael fucking kaiser ever again.”

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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urinarythreatinfection · 24 days ago

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I know i have requests to do im sorry but I keep getting sidetracked with new games i get when i havent finished the first one. Have this that i wrote bc the idea came to mind while i work on some freaky shit. Oh i thought i had school tomorrow but its friday (now sat) ok sick.

Mimi Mihawk

Mihawk x GN!Reader. Fluff. 380 words. Pre Cross guild but Post timeskip.

You walk downstairs, well rested after sleeping in. Your husband is ready at the table with a plate of food for you while he reads the newspaper with a glass of wine. A smile forms on your lips, he always ends up being able to predict when you’ll wake up so the food is freshly made. “It smells nice~”

“Sit.” Mihawk says, he’s a bit of a cold husband; but you know he loves you. After all, you didn’t miss how his posture straightened when you walked down the stairs or the way he relaxed his expression. As if seeing you awake and happy perked him up and improved his mood.

‘So cute.’ You think to yourself as you sit at the table, eating your breakfast while watching your husband read the newspaper. “Interesting?”

“Not much.” He sips on his glass of wine and you stand up to look at the paper since despite what he says he’s looked focused. Once you catch sight of it your smile widens, he’s looking at news about Zoro. You can tell his eyes are focused on the picture of the swordsman fighting, seemingly checking up on his form even in the still image. It makes your heart warm and you press your cheek to the top of his head affectionately.

“Mimi~ You’re happy~?” He sighs through his nose at that overly cutesy nickname that he’s told you over and over not to use. Yet despite his clear irritation he makes no attempt to stop you from rubbing your cheek against his like an affectionate cat. “Mimi~ Answer~~”

“I have no reason to answer the baseless accusation. Seeing how someone I personally trained fights is reasonable, it’s obvious he should be doing well.” His words don’t help him though, only making you happier as you kiss his cheek.

“He’s doing well so you’re happy~ I’m happy he’s doing good too~” You kiss his face and lips happily until he’s not even able to see the paper anymore. So irritating, which is exactly why he does nothing to stop it. It would just be too much of a bother if you cried or whined if he pushed you away, that’s the only reason. Ignore how he closes his eyes in relaxation or leans into it, you’re imagining things.

#mihawk x reader #drabble #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #fanfiction #fluff #anime only

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jeonjcngkook · 2 years ago

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motor head | jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre(s)&au(s): motorcyclist!jungkook, situationship / friends-with-benefits, angst, smut, pwp rating: 18+ word count: 10.2k+ warning(s)&smut warning(s): they r a little toxic w each other btw ! possessive jaykay n jealous jaykay bcs he literally cant see you around other men !!!! QATAR JAYKAY W LONG CURLY HAIR ALL IN HIS EYES LIKE PRINCE CHARMING 🤤, tattoos !!!! all out !!!!!! — thats a warning on its own :)))) - i may have also given him a giant rib tattoo bcs i hate myself that much 🤭 jaykay rides a motorcycle just in case u havent already guessed 🥲😲, biggest cawk jaykay, dirty talkinnn’, size kink bigger than his muscles !! he uses his motorcycle as a giant sex toy 🤲🏻🫠, clit play while driving, rough kisses, love bites, rough oral sex (m rec), face fucking (f rec), thigh riding & dry humping, vaginal fingering (f rec), anal fingering (f rec), spitting on her face n spitting on her ass, 💦💦, 👉🏻 degradation kink & praise kink 👈🏻, vaginal penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex on top of a motorbike, multiple orgasms, power play sksksk, jealousy sex (????? ye kinda), orgasm denial(s), creampie. summary: jungkook doesn't like seeing someone else have your attention, so he decides he’s gonna do something about it. beta(s): @jeonspub & @pjmparadise banner: @kth1 | @kth1fics

A hand fists into the back of your tank top and pulls you upright from your bent position. Looking behind you, you come eye-to-eye with Jungkook who looks like he reached his final limit with you. Seeing red, he is quick to push the man out from behind you, watching as his body struggles to keep himself standing at the force.

“Jaykay, what’s your fuckin’ problem, man?” The orange haired man you know as Jimin asks. “The little lady is just having some fun, don’t be such a spoil sport,” he jests — clearly loving the agitated reaction he is getting from Jungkook if the snarky grin on his face is anything to go by.

Jimin reaches out for you once more and drags you back towards him. He presses your back into the warmth of his chest, legs parting to accommodate you against him as one of his hands rests on your hip and the other on your thigh. You swallow when something hard presses into your ass and you fidget against it, hearing Jimin moan against your neck.

You watch on as Jungkook’s expression changes from pissed off to full blown rage within a blink of an eye.

Between you and Jungkook, things are complicated to say the absolute least. You have a past behind you as the girlfriend of a neighbouring rival gang that go against Jungkook and the rowdy crowd he hangs with. It started with sneaking around with each other behind your then boyfriends back before you took the plunge and found yourself with Jungkook indefinitely.

But things between you both aren’t as easy as it seems. Yes, you had left your boyfriend for Jungkook, but you and Jungkook had never made it official with each other.

To put it bluntly; you left your relationship with your ex for a situationship with the city’s notorious bad boy. Plainly put, you’re still single.

You laugh lightly as Jimin taunts Jungkook. You aren’t friends with any of these guys, having only met them twice before. You aren’t stupid, you can spot a hot guy when you see one and Jungkook’s so-called best friend Jimin was exactly that.

Like mentioned, you are single after all.

You tilt your head to the side to let Jimin place small kisses on your neck; both of you watching for Jungkook’s reaction. Within the snap of your fingers, Jungkook is ripping you out of the grasp of Jimin and pulling you into his arms. “She’s coming with me.”

Jungkook looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move in the direction of his motorcycle. His heavy black boots kick the stones from under his feet as he nears his motorised vehicle, leaving space for you to hop on eventually; however, you don’t move.

“Maybe I want to stay with Jimin,” you taunt, knowing just how to push his buttons.

You watch as Jungkook rolls his eyes, pissed off and annoyed at your bothersome behaviour tonight, unsure as to what or why you’ve decided that tonight of all nights you want to wind him up.

“____, you’re testing my fucking patience. Get on the bike.”

Staying still, you keep yourself standing between the two men. You look back towards Jimin, who looks to be enjoying the scene in front of him — Jungkook tends to get what he wants when he wants, so watching you not give him that makes Jimin snicker.

The sound of Jungkook’s motorcycle comes to life as he presses into the throttle lever as far as it possibly goes, a roar of the engine tearing through the cloudy night.

You turn around to find Jungkook with his helmet over his head, leather gloves adorning his fingers as the wheels on his bike move against the gravel.

“W-wait! Jungkook, wait!”

The engine dulls down as you walk towards him. Jungkook passes you over the spare helmet he reserves for you when you ride with him as you easily slide it past your hair.You don’t need to see his face to know that he has the victory smirk on his face. Lifting your leg over the carbon fibre of the bike, you manage to slot yourself between Jungkook and the glass window at the front.

Once again, Jungkook presses into the throttle and the bike engine rumbles beneath you both as he navigates the vehicle out of the lot, leaving everyone else behind.

It’s been fifteen minutes of silence between you both. Nobody dares to say anything through the intercom. In those fifteen minutes though, you’ve managed to slide into a dangerous position as Jungkook steers you both down narrow streets. The motorbike vibrates at the base just below the seat and you can’t help but feel every single part of it.

You moan out loud into the intercom in your helmet, not trying to hide the pleasure that suddenly rakes through you. Deep vibrations from the hard metallic cylinders below the carbon fibre body rattle your body as Jungkook adjusts your position on the bike.

His palm applies enough pressure to push your body down, watching as your back straightens out as your chin lies against the frame of the motorcycle, giving Jungkook a clear view of the road in front of him. In your new position, you slide yourself back into Jungkook’s crotch, meeting the leather material of Jungkook’s pants and in turn trapping you in between his hard psyche and the body of the machine beneath you.

Jungkook is still in full control of the motorcycle. He presses the throttle and ups the motorbike into a higher gear. Feeling the wind pick up as you zigzag through the highway, watching as the streetlights illuminate the wet asphalt before they threaten to dim into full darkness.

The vibrations between your legs get stronger as Jungkook revs the engine, picking up speed and knowing exactly what reaction he is spurring out of you. You hear a small laugh from Jungkook, and it’s almost torturous, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

From behind you, you can feel his eyes watching you as your legs try to close themselves to alleviate the throbbing in your core but you come up short, having the metal of the motorcycle come in between. You grind your ass further into Jungkook; feeling his cock harden at your movements.

Without thinking, you rub yourself further into the luxury Italian leather of the seat, chasing the vibrations as your pussy overflows with your own lust. You want nothing more right now than to trace your fingers past the hem of your leggings to peel away the lace that is now fully sticking to your folds uncomfortably from your arousal.

“Give me your hand.”

Removing his hand from the handlebars, Jungkook finds your wrist and wraps your fist around the rubber handle. “Press down on the throttle,” he instructs, voice stone cold and laced in confidence. You do as you're told, letting your fingers grip the lever, pressing down until it doesn’t go any further.

Behind you, Jungkook adjusts himself, fighting against your own movements; a deep gritty growl vibrating from his chest, almost mimicking the engine of his Kawasaki Ninja H2R bike. Your eyes widen in surprise when you feel something thick and hard pressing against your ass. Your cheeks warm at the realisation, your lips parting as he purposely pulls you further into him.

Jungkook’s now free hand slithers under your arm and past your clothing to place it on your hip. Your hands begin to gather sweat as he massages the skin almost comfortingly — but you know better… especially after the environment he has just pulled you out of.

“J-Jungkook, isn’t this dangerous?” you stutter nervously as your heart rate picks up. You feel Jungkook sit up a little straighter from behind you, one arm still holding onto the brake lever.

His fingertips run along the band of your leggings teasingly before his fingers dip underneath the cotton band. You can’t help but spread your legs wider on either side of the body, an instinct that has been scorned into your mind. A silent plea for Jungkook to move his hands further down. To cup your wet pussy and slide his fingers inside. To finger fucking you on the highway under the glittering city lights just to eliminate your lustfulness.

Your breath hitches in your throat as your arousal leaks further into your dampened thong.

“Jungkook?”

Ignoring you altogether, you feel three fingers press into the material of your underwear. The motorcycle below you shakes as you struggle to concentrate on the road. Jungkook’s hand finds your clit easily and begins to rub soft and slow circles. He switches the direction of his fingers, leaving you on the edge, never knowing what next he’s going to do.

“Why are you so wet, darling? Was it me or was it Jimin that got you so dirty?” He goads through the intercom — the first thing he has said to you since leaving the parking lot.

At the accusation towards Jimin, your blood runs cold. It definitely wasn’t Jimin but Jungkook had some audacity to even ask when he’s three fingers against your clit.

“We aren’t doing this if you’re going to assume like a dick.”

Your hand finds his wrist as you grab at it, keeping him in place to continue playing with your pussy. You lick your lips as his fingers peel past your thong, sliding them up and down your slit to coat his fingers in your cum before sinking two of them inside of you, instantly knuckle deep.

Your cunt clenches around his digits as your mind goes dizzy with desire.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you, feeling the heat in between your legs before he inches his fingers back inside. A rhythm of steading thrusting starts, making sure to curl them up when his knuckles meet your clit.

“I don’t think we — shit — we should do this. It’s — fuck — so dangerous.”

Jungkook is still able to navigate you around the city with one hand with your help but as the pleasure and lust courses through you from his fingers, it makes you dizzy, losing your vision on the road slightly.

“Want me to stop, darling?” Jungkook purrs into the built-in microphone.

The way his fingers fuck into you is deliriously fucking good. He knows how to reduce you to nothing but a whimpering mess for him in so many ways. You don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

And Jungkook knows. He always knows.

It’s like he can read your thoughts and leaves you hanging by a thread as he rips his hands away from your sodden core; pulling you away from any sort of pleasurable burst that was about to wash over your body any minute now.

The gasp that you exhale echoes through both of your bluetooth speakers is ear pinching as you try to come to terms with Jungkook denying you your opportunity to come. It leaves your eyes watering, pussy fluttering against nothing.

“What the fuck was that?” You pant, and a deep growl of dissatisfaction blends into your words spitefully.

The motorcycle slows down to a stop as it reaches its ending destination. Jungkook removes the keys to the garage from his pocket, clicking the buttons to open the entrance to his workshop.

The sounds of a heavy metal garage door thunders in your ears as you’re driven into the main area of the repair store. You watch as Jungkook’s leaden black leather boot wiggles under the motorcycle against the bottom of the bike to pull the kickstand out to allow it to stand on its own.

He is the first one to remove himself from the motorcycle, opting to run his hands through his now helmet messed hair. You follow his lead and will yourself to lift your leg over to the other side. It’s difficult to stand with the shake in your body. You’re unsure if it’s the adrenaline coursing through you or the lingering arousal you endured from the heavy vibrations.

Once you’re off the bike, you watch Jungkook off to the other side, pacing back and forth. He looks like he is having an internal battle with himself, so deep in thought that he may as well have forgotten you are there with him.

A distressed pair of leather pants hug tightly at Jungkook’s thighs, perfectly snug against the muscle underneath — all sorts of thoughts running through your mind at just how delicious his legs look in the material. It’s sinful and fucking mouth-watering.

Made from soft black leather, his jacket has a number of badges stitched securely onto the front and sleeves. With added stripes in sanguine red and olive green, the overall look of the jacket contrasts well against the black leather. To give it a more classic ‘biker look’, Jungkook has gone as far to wax the leather material to create a more vintage, edgy worn out effect.

Jungkook catches you staring at him as he unzips the top coat, revealing a sleeveless navy blue ribbed sweater-like shirt under the classic looking jacket. Throwing the leather over his shoulder, it lands in a heap behind him and you can’t help but watch as it falls heavily on the grimy concrete floor.

But what catches your eye is the arm covered fingers to shoulder in tattoos — not a dribble of skin left untouched, and you feel yourself itching to run your fingers over the words, patterns and shapes. You swallow hard as you watch as he crosses his arms over his chest. Your eyes land centre to his bicep; the colours within the intricate artworks being put to more good use as they show off every single tight muscle in his flexed arm.

With all the effort you are able to conjure, you’re able to rip your attention away from his body, but not fast enough as you look up to see Jungkook smirking.

“What are you playing at?”

Either Jungkook doesn't hear you or he’s heard you perfectly clear and he is doing everything he can to completely ignore you. And judging by the raise of his eyebrow piercing which catches in the night light like stardust and the light scoff that you hear, it’s the latter. Typical Jungkook.

This isn’t something you’re not used to. The push and pull between the both of you is scornful. Filled with aggression and fiery delight. It’s sickening yet all too consuming at the same time. It’s every reason why you find yourself unable to stay away from him, and vice versa.

Your eyes scan around the workbench in the repair store, striking gold as you find a tape measure underneath piles of tools and equipment.

“I’m talking to you,” you throw the measuring tape at his back to grab his attention. Your words are comparable to a snake spitting at its prey — filled with poison and ready to fight.

Your back is pressed against the adjacent wall, shortly followed by a pair of plush lips pressed against your own. The breath is knocked from your lungs and you’re unsure if it’s from being herded against the wall so abruptly or having Jungkook steal the air from such a bruising and breathtaking kiss. Either way, you hum in venomous delight as you open your mouth to allow his tongue to slither past your teeth and entangle with your own.

With one hand pressed against the wall next to your head and the other holding you still by the waist, you find yourself enjoying every moment of the dominance spilling from the man in front of you.

You reach your hands to his waist to roam underneath his ribbed crewneck style tank top, gripping the material in your hands and pushing it up and over his head. You take in his body. Completely bare for you — another tattoo etched into his beautiful skin. A Japanese traditional dragon. You see the tail starting at his hip as the body is drawn with pristine lines and dotwork all the way up his ribcage.

Wisdom, bravery and strength — traits both the dragon tattoo and Jungkook behold and symbolise. Although, his wisdom seems to vacate the second it comes to you.

You continue to take in the full sight of him. His torso is lean, and his chest and shoulders are broad and incredibly built. You have never seen anybody like him — and you doubt you’ll find anyone like him again. Healed scars, old abrasions, and bruises cover his chest and ribs and your fingertips gently travel upwards until they meet the tender marks.

His skin looks almost soft as the only format of light from the dim lamps and moonlight outside illuminates against his form. A hiss leaves his lips as you run your hands up and down his flesh, watching his eyes close tight.

“We could have got hurt,” you whisper, the words falling on deaf ears. Jungkook doesn’t want to think about his past battles in war — not right now.

Jungkook manages to slot his leather clad thigh in between your thighs, prying your legs to open wider for him. Your leggings only did so much to conceal your arousal, yet it didn't help that there is a dampened spot in the middle of the fabric;thankfully, he can’t feel it through his own pants, yet.

“You already hurt me, _____.”

You can barely recover from the intrusion of his thigh as you lift your head, looking at Jungkook dead in the eyes as they glare down at you, dark and filled with arousal of his own.

The garage is dark and dingy looking. The smell of oil, gasoline and sweat roaming around the room. It’s somewhat fitting to the man in front of you right now. Yet as his eyes darken and you’re only now taking in your surroundings, a shiver rakes through your body.

Jungkook presses himself further into you with his thigh, watching the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, a loud moan you are unable to suppress is loud and clearly heard by you both.

“W-what do you mean?” Like before, Jungkook’s gloved hand finds the waistband of your leggings once more, playfully grabbing at the elastic before taking the material back and letting it snap against your skin gently. With his free hand, he travels up your tummy, the feeling of your soft skin underneath his calloused fingertip brings him a sensation of delight. He brings it further up your body to skin over your clothed tits, squeezing over the lace as he grinds his thigh further into your cunt.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Jungkook’s eyes are stone, piercing through you entirely.

Your nipples harden at his movements, eyes rolling back into the back of your skull as you try your utmost best to keep your breathing steady and under control. It’s increasingly hard to do so when Jungkook flexes his quadriceps, giving you hard muscle to drag your aching, leaking pussy over.

“With Jimin.” His hand withdraws from your body, keeping you in place with his thigh as he straightens himself back to full height, only adding to his dominant aura. It makes you feel small underneath him.

A tear is heard throughout the small room and a chill suddenly finds its way creeping up your body. You look down in horror to find the thin material of your vest has been torn in half right down the middle. Your eyes quickly find Jungkook so you can demand why but before the chance finds itself, leather is skimming the skin of your neck until it finds you by the throat. His fingers squeeze at the sides of your neck just enough to slow down your breathing, a silent warning to not say a word.

“You went against what I told you today, didn’t you?” Jungkook is the first to cut through the silence with a rhetorical question, in his honeyed voice.

You have a habit of talking back to Jungkook, never liking not having the last say in your tiffs. You open your mouth to answer but once more Jungkook is quicker in thinking, knowing you far too well, and adds a little more pressure to the side of your neck. You can’t help but groan in near delight as the light headed feeling begins to crawl up on you ever so slowly but not before you manage to get some words out. “Did I?

Jungkook remains still. His eyes boring straight into your own as if challenging you to talk back to him once more.

Nothing. Silence.

The only sound to be heard is the heavy breathing between the both of you and all you do is let out a snort of laughter, as if this whole time it’s just a game.

“I just wanted to join in with you and the boys,” you say once more through gritted teeth. “It isn’t my fault Jimin fucking likes me, is it?”

“I don’t think Jimin ‘fucking liking you’ is the issue we have here, sweetheart. Letting him grind his cock against your ass in front of me and my boys is the problem we have.”

It didn’t matter how hard Jungkook’s hand was wrapped around your throat, the laugh that you let out was audible enough to taunt Jungkook. This was dangerous. You are in a small space filled with oils and gasoline tanks that in a single moment threatens to blow up if you keep playing with the fire inside Jungkook.

“You should have been the one to take me out on your bike then, then we wouldn’t be in this situation.” You lower yourself further onto his thigh, using your lower back to rest on the cold wall behind you. With everything in you, you use it to your advantage to keep you in your sitting position, essentially sitting on Jungkook’s thigh as you begin to press down harder, moving your hips back and forth to fuck yourself on him.

“Things may have gotten a little out of hand when he was showing me his bike,” you slide the straps of your bra off of your shoulders to pull the cups down and let your tits spill out. You feel the fingers on your throat loosen lightly, Jungkook’s eyes flickering down as he watches you grope your tits in your hands yourself this time. “He may have bent me over it a little too much and he may have pressed himself against me a little too hard when showing me the paintwork; but when was any of this my problem?”

No response comes from Jungkook. Instead, his grip on your neck falls completely in turn for slapping your hands out of the way to fist your boobs in his leather fists himself, watching as the skin peeks through the spaces of his fingers. The feeling of air returning to your body spurs you on further, gives you a newfound energy that you use to fuck yourself with. You’re so desperate to come that the pace of you riding his thigh increases, pleasure shoots up your spine and you let out a cry of arousal, your body is so wired it feels like your clit is making direct contact to his cock on every stoke.

In fact, Jungkook does nothing to stop you from chasing your high — what's strange is that he starts to encourage you to use him to get yourself off. He lifts his leg higher and further into you, flexing his thigh as tight as possible as he plants his hands on either side of your waist to help guide you, pushing and pulling you with both hands.

“Jungkook, kiss me,” you plead, voice light.

“No.”

Your eyes snap open at his denial to your request. He has never denied you a kiss before. Jungkook loves making out with you so this is brand new territory for you to be in and you’re unsure if you’re enjoying the answer. You don’t have the option to ask why before you get your answer.

“Don’t deserve it.”

Your eyes become glassy as little tears fill your eyes. Not because of Jungkook’s rejection, well, a little because of that, but because he fucking smirks as he tells you no and continues to pulls you harder into him.

Jungkook leans down towards your mouth and you follow him, leaning in to connect his mouth with yours, thinking he was just playing games with his previous refusal. But at the last possible second, he twists his face away from yours until his lips are grazing against your earlobe, grunts of pleasure and warm breathing warming your skin.

“I fucking love how wet you get for me,” Jungkook croons as he takes your earlobe in between his teeth and grazes it lightly. “I’ll kiss you when you’ve come.”

You jerk your hips erratically against his thigh faster and faster, your climax in fucking sight. “Jungkook, it would have felt so good to have you bending me down on top of the motorcycle instead,” you start, words etching a repetive image in Jungkook’s mind of you and Jimin once again. “To feel your arms around me. Your weight on top of me, your cock hard and heavy against me —, " you moan, continuing to grind against him, watching how Jungkook twitches and swells under the leather of his pants.

This time it’s Jungkook’s turn to groan, trying to angle his body in a way that his cock is beneath you, to have you aide both yourself and Jungkook at the same time, but to his dismay he can’t find it; the material not being too kind in stretching enough for him.

Your breathing becomes stuttered as a string of swear words leaves your lips as your orgasm washes over you. And as promised, Jungkook finds your jaw in his hand and brings your face up to meet his own before crashing his soft cherry red lips against your own.

He kisses you deeply with soft lips and a wet tongue that presses into the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. Your lips part obediently as you glide your tongue against his own. The taste of desperation and lustful desire on the tip of both of your tongues and you can��t help but moan softly, so saccharine sweetly for him.

In between the kiss, you feel a large hand at the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as they tug at the root to pull you away from his mouth. Jungkook’s rougher nature starts to make an appearance and you can’t help but squirm in anticipation of what is to follow. The thoughts of him pinning you down just like you had asked in the midst of your pleasure moments ago swirls in your mind, causing goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck.

“If I had been anywhere near you earlier then I wouldn’t have been able to fucking stop myself from being the one to bend you over, waist down against my own bike just to fuck you hard and rough in plain sight of everyone around us.”

A puddle forms in your mouth at his words; unable to swallow as you picture the image in your mind of Jungkook doing exactly that with a crowd around you. You know he has a vouyeristic nature and a tendency to participate in exhibitionism but knowing he would go as far as too fuck you in front of a group of his friends, strangers to you, sets your body ablaze.

A fresh wave of arousal pools in your already soaked underwear as you muster up the courage to move around his thigh once more. But unluckily for you, Jungkook removes his thigh from between your legs and gives you a dry humourless laugh as he sees you trying to put the imagery in your mind.

“I can’t believe you’d fucking let me do that. Look at yourself — it’s pathetic.”

“I didn’t say I would let you do that.” Jungkook raises his tattoo arm and lands it on the wall behind him, keeping the other side free, knowing that if you wanted to leave, you would take the exit.

“You didn’t have to say anything. I can read it all over your body. Why else did you end up getting on the back of my motorcycle again tonight? Because it sure as shit wasn’t for a night cruise… not with me.”

You swallow hard as Jungkook bends down again so he’s face to face with you.

“Your mouth is watering for me. Your heart is pounding and I can fucking feel it. And now, the lower I get,” he stops to lick at the ring at the corner of his mouth and your eyes flit down to watch as he does. Watching as his tongue runs along his lower lip, wetting it as he goes before his tongue slithers back into his mouth and protrudes at the corners. “I can feel the desperation clinging to you for me to kiss you right now. Slow. Hard. Passionate. My tongue running down your neck. Taking in the smell of your arousal,” he punctuates his words by letting his palm squeeze at your tit again and sliding his hands down over your bare ribs.

Your eyes flutter shut as your hand firmly grips his wrist. Jungkook stops his movements, waiting for you to stop what’s going on between the two of you. But it never comes. Instead, you tighten your grip on his wrist and begin to slither it towards the elastic of your bottoms once again.

“Then what?” You moan, anticipating his next movement.

It’s clear to see that Jungkook is just as affected by this as you are. The deep movement in his Adams Apple suggesting he is swallowing hard to keep himself under control gives it away.

“Then I’d slid my fingers right under here,” and he does but goes no further than the lace hem of your underwear, “I’d make you come first around my fingers. Then on my tongue. Then on my fucking cock,” he whispers the last part as he presses himself into you, making you feel just how aroused is his. His cock, thick and hard against your pelvis. “Fast, hard, rough sex that you know deep down you’re craving from me right now.”

His fingers stop rubbing against your skin, forcing you to look up to find him with his eyes closed and jaw clenched together. “Too bad I’m not going to be the one to give it to you… Go ask Jimin, he seemed up for it.” The last sentence is said with spite as if the name of his best friend is nothing but searing poison dripping from his own tongue.

Stunned into silence, you roll your eyes. Of course this is still about Jimin. “Fuck you.”

Though his back is turned to you, you watch as Jungkook stops in his stride and opts for twisting his neck from side to side — cracking of his bones heard in the eerie quiet. You can’t see his expression but you know you’ve possibly overstepped the mark but right now, you can’t see anything other than blind vicious venom for the man in front of you.

“What did you say to me?”

Ignoring the warning bells that ring and rattle in your head over and over, you tell yourself you need to do this.

“You heard exactly what I said. You’re so caught up in your own messed up thoughts that you can’t see that I’m standing here right in front of you. I’ve always been right in front of you. You fuck me when you please but then you’re so quick to toss me away the second something so miniscule gets too hard for you to deal with. You pick me up just to throw me away like an old toy a child doesn’t want anymore. I’m not yours to just use and tear apart when you want. You don’t care about those around you enough to think about the repercussions of your shitty actions. So fuck you.”

You toss your head back in relief that you have finally been able to lift the dead weight off of your shoulders. If this is how you and Jungkook will end, then at least you did it with your pride intact standing up for yourself. You let out a deep breath as you try to zip up your jacket to cover your torn clothes.

With your head down in concentration, you’re unaware that Jungkook has come back and reaches for both your wrists, pinning them against the wall above your head, and he doesn’t look happy. His eyes are narrowed, glaring into you as if he can see through you, burning holes straight into the granite behind you. His jaw is flexed, shut tight, and his nose is scrunched up at the tip — not in the way you’ve come to love, but in a way that carries fear.

“Well if you aren’t mine, then who is it you belong too, huh?”

“That’s not what I mea-.”

Your sentence is cut off as his lips crash against yours hard. His teeth instantly pull on your lower lip to allow himself the satisfaction of tangling his tongue with your own. The kiss is passionate, filled with loathing and untold love for the other. Your eyes shut slowly into the kiss as you fight your wrists out of his hold in favour of wrapping them around his neck and pulling him against you forcefully.

You tug at the roots of Jungkook’s hair, breaking the kiss and watching as saliva connects your lips to his still. Your own body shivers as you take in the state of his hair dishevelled from your tugging and the motions of his chest rising and falling over and over in quick paces from being out of breath with just one kiss.

“Tell me. Who. Do. You. Belong. To?”

One more tug at his hair and you regain your fight. “You have no right to think I belong to you. Not anymore.”

“You like it when I do though, don’t try and fight what you already know to be true,” Jungkook answers, his voice low and gravelly.

Once again, Jungkook’s mouth is back on you with fiery desire. Teeth and tongue clash against each other in the fight for dominance within the kiss. You relinquish, knowing damn well that you would never win anyway, but the fight is part of the fun. He captures your lip back in between his teeth and nips hard enough that a tingling feeling reaches your lips, and you think he’s kissed you hard enough to draw blood. If that’s the case, Jungkook isn’t one bit bothered. Jungkook’s drawn blood before — the lashes and scars on his body are a testament to that.

Jungkook’s mouth detaches from yours and travels across your cheek toward your ear like he did earlier.

“You’re mine, you got that?”

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you spit, looking back at him with hooded eyes.

Jungkook sucks on your neck just below your ear, knowing exactly how to provoke you. The sweet spot on your body that only he knows. His mouth is greedy and careless as his teeth nibble hard at one spot and then another before his tongue immediately soothes the burn of your flesh. And yet all at the same time, you never want the burn to stop. You want him to keep going — to fully burst into flames and burn you with him.

But it isn’t like he was wrong. It didn’t matter how often you fought it never took away from the fact that you were absolutely, irrevocably his. A truth you cling to, never wanting that to change. And it may be toxic to fight and fix it with a fuck but right now you can’t help but need him right fucking now.

Jungkook just laughs, working one of his hands up to the nape of your neck to grab your hair and pull hard at the roots. You don’t fight back the moan that escapes your lips and instead you welcome the action with a salacious grin, feeling him exhale against your warm flesh.

You can tell he is needy as he furthers himself down to your chest, arms pulling the jacket off of your shoulders, ripped vest along with it. He continues to suck in mouthfuls of your skin, watching as it darkens and then placing more tiny little kisses around the sensitive area.

“I honestly hate you sometimes, Jungkook.”

Every moan, every whimper you release is for him. Moving your head side to side, you give Jungkook an all-access pass to every part of you. You shiver at the thought that the next time you’re with his friends will be when you’re going to be marked up all pretty, teeth marks and love bites littering your neck, chest and skin. Visible proof that Jungkook has claimed you as his.

“Want you on your knees, need to see how badly you wanna be mine.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you obey his words as you lower yourself to your knees right before him. With your head at the same height as his hips, you can see the hard length straining against his right thigh. Jungkook doesn’t waste time undoing the two buttons above his bulge before unzipping his leather pants — the sound of it ringing loudly in your ears and your mouth drools at the thought of what is to come next.

Jungkook pulls the tight leather down to his mid thigh, just enough for you to see his cockhead poking out the seam of his Tom Ford boxers. It’s a bright pretty peach shade, smeared in white slick from the precum that has been gathering since the start of the night.

“You hate me all of a sudden, yeah?” Jungkook asks mockingly, a growl vibrating from his chest.

It doesn’t even matter how often you see his length hard and ready, it always leaves you speechless, wanting nothing more than for him to take the words out of your mouth and replace it with his cock.

Noticing that your eyes are trained on his dick, Jungkook’s hand immediately plunges into the band of his boxers and fishes his cock out for you to admire fully. The pride is written all over his face as your mouth drops open slowly and you lick the corners of your mouth, then the skin of your lower lip. Jungkook bends down at his waist and tilts your head to the side to face you away from him before he spits on your cheek, a loud whimper leaving your lips. Jungkook watches as your head turns back towards him, eyes filled with lust as you feel it drip down your face.

“You want to hate me that much but look at you covered in me,” he degrades as he pulls you towards his cock and smears his spit and precum around the side of your cheek. “You can’t hate me that much sweetheart.”

You hear him sucking air through his teeth as your hand reaches up to run your fingertips over the protruding veins that run from the flushed, weeping mushroom head down to the base before handling his balls in your palms and giving one tight squeeze. You smile to yourself knowing just how affected he is. Affected by your touch, how it’s you that brings him to a halt. He hisses as your hand wraps around his shaft.

He is long, hard,and sensitive to the touch. Thick from base to tip, deep purple veins are prominent against his skin which decorate his cock so prettily within the wetness of pearly pearlescent cum. Your hand is barely big enough to close around him fully, making Jungkook laugh dryly at your feeble attempt.

However, you’re quick to shut him up as you squeeze his cock a few times, feeling him throb, his body tensing.

The yellow street lamps continue to stream through the small window and it’s just unfair how a dingy alleyway lamp can compliment him so beautifully. It creates a halo-like backdrop around him, almost teasing you enough to think heaven really lost their most sacred one; only you know that Jungkook is nothing but sin and inevitable danger. He runs a hand through his curly onyx shaded hair, allowing multiple curls to fall into his face and in front of his eyes and you can feel the desperation within you become all too consuming as it swallows you whole.

Taking his length into both of your hands, you feel how heavy it is in your hands, and you ache to feel the weight of it on top of your tongue. The glisten of cum leaking from his slit tempts you enough to unlock your jaw and pull yourself forward towards him. Your mouth wraps around his head the smallest amount, teasingly, eyes staring straight up at Jungkook as your tongue circles his slit for his taste.

You savour the saltiness of his pre-cum, making sure to suck at the slit to paint your wet muscle with more tangy goodness. Starting off slow, you kitten lick the head, coating his cock in saliva to ready yourself for taking him in further.

Your mouth sinks down further, passing his cockhead and taking in some of the delicious thickness of his length. Your lower lip drags over the underside of his cock, massaging the vein with every suck.

“Ah shit, such a good little cockwhore,” Jungkook hisses into the open, steadying himself with one hand on the wall behind you.

Looking up at him with lust behind your lashes, you keep eye contact with him as your mouth slowly makes its way further down on him and Jungkook closes his eyes and inhales a long deep sigh and lets it out through his nose as he groans. “Yeah, looks like you fucking love me or is just my cock down your throat you’re falling for?”

Jungkook’s words are accompanied by a tender hand to the cheek where the mixture of spit and cum has dried up. His thumb caressing you back and forward. You close your eyes and focus on taking him deeper into your mouth. Your willpower takes hold of you as you sink further down until you feel your nose touch the small hairs at the lowest part of his tummy where his pubic hair rests.

Moans fall around his cock as you feel your own arousal pooling in your centre, wettening your inner thighs as you squeeze them tightly to ease the thrumming inside your pussy. One of your hands falls to his balls, cupping them and gently massaging them. The hand that isn’t currently holding his body weight finds the roots of your hair once more and tugs it hard at the sensation.

“Lean back honey and let me fuck your mouth.”

Jungkook’s cock falls from your mouth, leaving your lips connected to his cockhead by three thick slivers of spit cum mix. Your knees ache now and your throat burns but you know that you will do anything to please Jungkook so you decide to sit back on your bottom and rest your head against the cold wall as Jungkook’s thighs move either side of you.

With you now pinned up against the wall, you open your mouth once again and let Jungkook press forward, enveloping his whole cock inside your mouth. Your eyes squeeze tight as you start to gag around him. The sounds of you struggling to accommodate his thickness spurs Jungkook on further as he starts to piston himself in and out of your mouth over and over before halting his movements and holding himself at the back of your throat. Mascara from your lashes starts to puddle under your eyes as you struggle to breath past the thickness stuffed in your mouth.

“Relax your mouth, honey,” Jungkook croaks out, too lost in his own pleasure.

Doing as you’re told, you manage to relax further which gives Jungkook enough room to push past the tightness of your throat to fuck further into the tight tunnel.

“Shit, such a good girl. You’re so wet around my cock; oh f-fuck baby, take it, d-deeper.” The words of encouragement made you smile the best you can, even with a mouth filled with cock. He pulls out once more and your body gasps for as much air as you possibly can before he is back inside you.

Your gag reflex plays up every so often as Jungkook fucks into you like it’s the last time he’s ever going to see you. Focusing on your breathing helps aid the intrusion as he keeps up the hard rhythm he has his hips going in.

Feeling his hips stutter, you know he’s close. You moan loudly around his dick, the vibrations coating his shaft as he lets out the loudest moan he has of the night. You swallow around his cock, making sure to hollow out your cheeks the best you can, wanting nothing more than to see the man you love come completely undone, spilling his love for you into your awaiting tongue.

But it’s like he can read your mind as he removes himself from your mouth, watching as your eyes widen in confusion.

“Wha-why didn’t you come?” You ask, your voice hoarse.

Leaning down, Jungkook pulls you back to your feet and then lifts you into his embrace, his hands under your ass to keep you steady as you wrap your own arms around his neck and legs around his tiny waist to secure yourself. Jungkook presses you against the wall and leans in to kiss you again. It’s not gentle but it isn’t as rough as his last few kisses have been. His tongue is still insistent but you allow him to meet your own tongue with no hesitation. You feel his dick twitch against your inner thigh.

“If I'm going to come, then it’ll be inside your pussy.”

You whimper at his promise and kiss him hard on the lips again as he walks you both away from the wall. You’re lowered back onto your feet, Jungkook taking a hold of each of your shoulders and turning you around until your back is facing him.

Realising you’re standing in front of Jungkook’s motorcycle, you swallow hard at what’s to come. His hands slide down your back, following the trail of your bare spine before stopping at the small of your back. His heavy booted foot slithers its way in between your thighs and pries your legs open, watching as they spread for him.

What comes next is a shock to you. Jungkook crouches down below you, one palm on your clothed ass cheek and the other in between your legs, rubbing back and forth on your pussy. The damp spot grows with every flick of his fingertips on your clit and Jungkook makes sure to apply added pressure to the sensitive nub as he rubs.

With no warning, a tearing sound from behind you is heard and your mouth falls open in disbelief. Cold air meets your ass and that’s when it dawns on you that Jungkook has completely torn your leggings from the back. Your body hurls forward as he continues to tear the cotton material until your full ass is exposed to him. Mortification and unadulterated desire creeps up on you, warming your skin and setting your tummy alight at the realisation of the situation. But Jungkook doesn’t finish there. Grabbing the lace of your underwear, he pulls with all his strength at the article of clothing and rips them apart too. They stay on your body by your hips but the middle of your underwear is torn and dangling in between your thighs, pussy now in his vision.

Your pussy drips embarrassingly for him as your legs stay spread wide for his own enjoyment and pleasure. It’s so fucking degrading and yet you can’t seem to get enough of pleasing him.

Taking the situation into your own hands, you grab at your asscheeks and pull them apart to give Jungkook all the access to your dripping core. “Jungkook? Look how wet I am for you, baby.” You wiggle your ass left and right and back again, taunting Jungkook to touch you.

“Filthy fucking girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass. A hand is lifted and is brought down just as quick to slap you across your left asscheek.

You snort at his attempts, knowing just how to rile him up. “Is that all you got?” You grin and even though he can’t see you, you know he knows you’re grinning. He can hear it in your tone. You arch your back slightly, sticking your ass out toward him.

He slaps you once more, this time to the right listening to you hiss at the contact, prompting him to smack you again on the other side, and again back on the left — alternating cheeks until your ass is searing warm and you’re a babbling drooling mess. Jungkook dips his hands back down in between your legs and a string of curse words are sworn out loud when he finds your pussy wetter than when he started.

“Please Jungkook, I want you,” you beg, knowing you mean it in more ways than one.

You're waiting for Jungkook to do something as you stand there in front of him, pussy dripping and skin searing. Looking over your shoulder, what you didn't expect was for Jungkook to walk away from you towards his workbench filled with all kinds of equipment for fixing up bikes. You watch as he picks up something red but his body shields most of the item from your prying eyes.

He comes back and you see that the item is long and dangles from his hands as he holds it in two hands. Jungkook picks your hands up from holding your ass and places them at the bottom of your back before binding the item around your wrists.

It’s when you feel the thick PVC that you realise he has tied your hands with a pair of jumper cables. What is even more mortifying is after he finishes tying up the leads, he bends you forward onto his bike with your tits pressed against the leather of the seat in the exact same compromising position that Jimin had you in earlier in the night. But this time it’s Jungkook, and you’re bound to his liking awaiting his cock.

“Don’t fucking like seeing what’s mine with anyone else… especially not fucking Jimin,” he snarls.

Jungkook spits from behind you into his palm and grips his cock, fucking his fist in eager strokes at your bound bent state right in front of him. He pushes his cock down to swipe through your folds, catching your arousal and coating himself in your wetness — a messy concoction mixed with his own cum and spit.

“Whenever you’re in this position, you’ll be reminded that I’m the one who fucked you raw on their motorcyle.” Jungkook pushes into you at the end of his speech while his hands slither to your hips and grips the skin tight.

Usually Jungkook preps you before he fucks you, using his fingers and tongue to open you up for him — stretching you wide to fit his thick length inside but other than him finger fucking you earlier in the night, there was nothing.

The bulbous head of his dick presses further into you until it finally passes past your tight hole, stretching your cunt open, the burn welcomed almost immediately as your head falls forward and you whimper at the pained pleasure.

You manage to keep your breathing steady as your lips are caught in between your teeth to stop yourself from moaning further. Your cunt flutters around him as he continues to push himself forward; struggling to take him in fully from the lack of foreplay. You can only thank the high heavens above that Jungkook let you use his thighs to get off, to get you wet in preparation of his cock because without it, you’re absolutely sure that he would have had you apart just like your clothing. Soiled and ripped into two halves.

“So big…” you whisper, beginning to feel the lightheadedness creep over you.

Jungkook helps slightly by pushing you off his cock until it is just the tip sheathed inside your cunt before he pulls you right back into him — his cockhead already pressing against your cervix as your pussy stretches to accommodate him — moulding itself into the perfect shape just for Jungkook. Folds white and creamy each time he pulls out, just how he likes it.

Your walls relax enough to allow Jungkook to start pulling and pushing you onto his cock. You spread your legs further for him, the new space allows your body to accept him easier. Jungkook swears as he eventually bottoms out within you, hot and swollen.

“Am I giving you everything you wanted, sweetheart?” Jungkook snarls, “my little cocksleeve.”

Your mouth drops open as Jungkook keeps rolling his hips into you, feeling every inch he feeds into your greedy cunt. The bike beneath you both shifts and you hear the metal from the kickstand below grind against the floor, the machine threatening to fall but this only goads Jungkook to fuck you harder.

All that radiates from Jungkook right now is power and dominance as he completely takes over your body, using it as his own personal fucking toy. His cock manages to glide inside you with such ease, reaching deep inside of you. Each thrust accompanied by a feral grunt, as if he is putting everything he has into each pump of his cock. The sounds of the skin of his hips and thighs meeting yours fill the darkened room. Your duet of moans loud enough to be heard on the other side of the town.

“God, Jungkook! You fuck me so good — keep going — .”

Jungkook keeps up his pace, fucking into you rough, breaking his own promise from earlier. He sinks his cock back in with ease, the squelching of your cum, and skin slapping mixed with your harmonious moans fill the room. The site of your ass rippling with every thrust makes his mouth water. His hand grips your flesh and lets his fingers dig in, giving it a spank… and again twice, and thrice for his own pleasure of watching your body bounce for him.

Reaching forward, Jungkook finds your clit and circles it with two long slender fingers. You tremble beneath him, feeling your body tense as your orgasm approaches.

“Want to play with your ass,” he goads, knowing exactly how much satisfaction you gain from it. Undeniably, him too.

As quick as his fingers find your clit, they are removed and you almost let out a whine of disappointment. You’re not fast enough to give him an answer to his question before Jungkook takes his two fingers and presses them against the tight ring of your asshole, teasing little circles on your hole.

The sensation gives you flutters in your tummy, your pussy clenching at the promise of being completely filled with every part of Jungkook. Without warning, he presses his two fingers further, breaching your tight hole and immediately curling his fingers inside.

The feeling of his fingers inside your ass as he fucks your pussy makes your cunt flutter around him, which also allows your ass to tighten around his fingers too. Your hands try to reach out for Jungkook but the movement brings a nasty reminder that your wrists are still tied by the jump leads, leaving you craving to touch him even more.

You can't do anything but lie against his motorcycle as he fucks into you from behind with a ruthless pace, pushing your body into the bike.

You cry out when he finds that earthshaking spot inside of your ass. "Yes, right there," you cry.

Grunting, Jungkook makes sure he concentrates on that spot in your ass. Pulling his fingers all the way out, spitting on them to lube them back up and then pushing back into you knuckle deep. The sounds of his cock fucking into your cunt, wet obscene squealching sounds, his fingers in your ass and the slapping of skin picks up and it’s the most erotic sounds the both of you have ever heard. It may be the best sex you have both ever had.

It doesn’t take much more — just a few more drags of his fingers in your tight ass with his tattooed fingers as he continues to impale you right down on his cock until you cum, almost blacking out from how forceful your orgasm is. It's breathtaking and you can't keep your eyes open as he fucks into you, spurts of your cum splattering him as you struggle to breathe.

Jungkook moans, pushing harder into you while you are still working through your orgasm. Cunt tight and pulsing around his length, he smirks when you squeal out his name again.

“Another.” He demands, keeping up the harsh slap of his hips.

Jungkook fills your ass with a second finger this time. The arrival of his middle finger is a tight squeeze but he manages to fit it alongside his forefinger perfectly. You feel your muscles constrict around his fingers at the new intrusion. Your cum spilling out of your used pussy as Jungkook fucks you raw like his own filthy possession. Like his own dirty fleshlight.

Your head turns swiftly to the side to see Jungkook above you. His hair is in a disarray, small droplets of sweat hiding behind his tresses of hair, allowing strands upon strands to stickily cling to his face. You watch as his abdomen flexes with each stroke, the deep V lines of his pelvis appearing and disappearing with every thrust. His cock exits you covered in your white viscid lust from your first orgasm as your second nears.

“I’m coming —,”

He looks monstrous with eyes dark and dilated with lust as his lips are caught in between his canines, expression clouded with carnality. He looks so beautiful like this. In the midst of his own pleasure.

You feel your body tense all over as your second orgasm rips through you. “Right there, please, I-I’m coming,” you scream, head blank and dizzy from the pleasure as you come all over again. Your body is tense and tears fall from your lashes and coats your cheeks in wetness. You mewl and scream, Jungkook plunging his cock harder and harder into you, coaching you through your high.

Pulling out of you, Jungkook pulls you off of his bike with the jump cable lead in his hand and guides you to your knees. Jungkook tilts his head to the side as your mouth envelopes him once more, opting to suck on his cock rough and fast.

He gathers his fists on top of your head to still your head as he begins to fuck into your throat with renowed vigor. Your eyes close as you taste both your own cum and Jungkook’s salty essence all at once. You relax your jaw to allow Jungkook to push himself past the tightness of your throat as he gives out a feral grunt with every stroke of his cock.

“So eager to have your mouth stuffed with my cum, aren’t you!?”

You hum at the praise, mouth too full to tell him exactly how it makes you feel as you squeeze your eyes closed in pleasure. With one final thrust, Jungkook stills his hips, his cock blanketed by your oesophagus at the back of your throat, leaving you gagging and coughing. Spurts of warm cum paint the back of your mouth as you feel him slide out of you as he reaches his orgasm. White sticky cum coats every part of your throat, tongue, and cheeks as you look up into his eyes, tongue hanging out for more.

You both put your lips back around his dick and suckle softly on the tip, tongue teasing the slit for more cum. Jungkook falls back slightly, using his elbows to prop his weight up against the workstation his tools are on.

You pull away from his cock, making a loud ‘pop�� as your lips leave his head. You shower his dick with small kitten kisses, feeling it soften against your lips.

“Jimin will never be able to fuck you like I do, sweetheart, just remember that.”

Again, warmth radiates all over your body at his words — the knowledge of you being his and his only gives you a prideful buzz.

Titling your head to look at Jungkook, who is towering over you, you smile a sweet saccharine smile and wink. “Jimin will never be able to fuck me like you,” you agree. “But what about Taehyung?”

note: pls don’t be a silent reader & leave some feedback in my asks, reblog with a nice comment or even a lil reply saying if you enjoyed — big or small, they go a long way! supporting writers is always important <3

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billsbabydoll · 3 months ago

Text

“𝓈ℯℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽ℯ 𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝓂ℯ.”

contains:PURE SMUT<3

summary:as fuck buddies there was obviously zero commitment, no strings attached, just sex.but once tom learns of my new boyfriend, completely furious he takes it into his hands to show me whats really his.

WARNINGS:dom!tom sub!reader, p in v (riding), car-sex, rough-sex, praising, pet-names, over-stimulation, SLIGHT breeding kink, implied cheating (I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING this story is ONLY for entertainment purposes only!!!), new established relationship.

notes:AAAA i love this story hopefully you guys enjoy!

tom was the one who came up with the rule of no-commitment, he was obviously a play-boy, typical womanizer, having girls out of his hotel room left and right so it was understandable he established this rule.

with other girls normally, he would get what he wanted and get onto the next but i guess to him i was different, we would frequently met up and have dinner then fuck once we got back to his place as usual.i was sure i was the only girl he gave this special treatment towards, because he made it very clear.

besides having flings and other “serious relationships” here and there, i was always the girl he would call when he wanted to talk or get his frustrations out with.although just being a sex based relationship, we grew close and knew each other fairly well not just anatomically.

everything changed once i met robert, he was your average of snooze guy nothing really too special but we soon began dating after a couple weeks of getting to know one-another, after becoming fully monogamous to robert i cut ties completely with tom.i was sure this would be no problem since our relationship was just for sex right?but oh was i strongly wrong.

while sitting on the couch watching a movie i see my phone in the corner of my eye suddenly begin to vibrate and ring, confusedly i pick up the phone from the coffee table and see an unknown number calling.i assumed it was just a spam call so i set it back down letting it continue to ring.unexpectedly it continued vibrating and ringing suggesting someone was continuously trying to get me to pick up.

i annoyedly sighed, angrily picking up the phone pressing harshly on the answer button before bringing the phone close up to my ear.

“took you long enough..now meet me outside right now.” the chillingly familiar voice on the other line said, the one i havent once heard in weeks..

i hung up looking around weirded out and ultimately confused, trying to understand how he managed to call me if i blocked his number?i slowly set the phone back down on the coffee table, getting up from the couch making my way out of the front door stepping onto the front porch, shutting the door behind me.

i look around trying to spot someone or something and then i finally see him standing next to his black, fully tinted, red rimmed audi, smoking a cigarette blowing the smoke out into the cold winter breeze.he looks back down taking another drag out of his cigarette looking straight ahead, me and toms eyes making eye-contact for the first time since the last time we saw each other.

i then begin to slowly approach him, he blows the smoke out of his mouth dropping the cigarette down to the ground putting it out with his sneaker, afterwards opening the passenger side door letting me inside closing it once i was settled inside then making his way to the drivers side getting into the vehicle as well.

he looks over to me seeing my anxious expression, chuckling a bit as he began to speak-

“so hows this guy im hearing of, how is he baby?”he questioned speaking in a voice that was cheerful but still lingering with complete rage.

“he has a name you know..its robert.”i strongly clapped back, rolling my eyes at him.

“aw wonderful guy isnt he hun?”he exaggerated adding an annoying emphasis to the sentence, his words cutting deep into my skin.

“see your man is a man but he ain’t me you know mama?tell me does he touch you the way i do-”he says smugly a smirk soon appearing on his reddish lips, his hand now rubbing and squeezing on the skin of my thigh.he then leans in closer his hand still caressing my thigh his mouth nearing closer to whisper in my ear, “fuck you like i do?”

i breathe in deeply desperately trying to remain strong and remind myself of my boyfriend, whatever his name is.tom knew exactly what he was doing teasing me like this, getting me right back where he wanted me.

“tom..”

“what love, cmonn use your words hm?”

“j-just fuck me already, please.”

“since you asked so nicely.”he said pulling away with a smile, swiftly pulling me into his lap placing me in the reverse cow-girl position, my hands now holding onto the steering wheel.

he harshly slapped my ass causing me to softly moan, his fingers then find the hems of my pajama shorts tugging on them signaling me to pull them down, he followed right behind unbuckling his belt and unzipping his baggy jeans enough for him to pull his hard length out of his black briefs.

after he slightly lifted me up spitting a generous amount of spit on his hand before lubricating himself then sitting me back down slowly on his cock, we both groaned at the heavenly feeling my teeth harshly biting down on my lower lip suppressing a loud groan.

i soon began to bounce on his length, it wasnt long before the sound of skin clapping took over along with a string of our passionate moans, his left hand aggressively spanking and hitting my ass the other making a makeshift ponytail using it as leverage to kiss and bite on my neck.

“keep riding i-it just like that mmh-mama..”he groans praising my movements, his hands now gripping on the sides of my hips helping me go up and down faster on his desperate cock.

“y-you feel so ughh-fucking good baby!”i cry out my eyes rolling to the back of my skull, the tip of his length kissing my tight cervix perfectly.

“doing such a good f-mmfucking good job for me love, keep ughgoing!”

“your fucking mine all-mmhm fucking mine..” he continued encouraging me and by now my brains were completely fucked into mush, all i seemed to say and mutter was how good his fucking big cock felt pounding inside my needy cunt.

“b-baby im mmh-gonna!”i managed to mumble in between my desperate whimpers, my walls beginning to aggressively tighten around his length.

“aww i know mama i know g-go on ugh!”he cooed fucking his dick in further inside me, sure enough to see a bulge in my stomach.

to his command i immediately start seeing stars as i begin to orgasm and coat his cock completely with my cum, my body severely shaking and my chest heaving from the harsh impact of my climax.this pushes him to take the opportunity to really show me whos cunt this really belongs to, his cock now beginning an impeccable and violent attack on my pussy.

“tom! i cant i mmh-cant t’much!”

“yeah you can mmm!be a good ugh-girl!”

im a drooling, screaming, crying, utterly fucked out of my mind disgusting mess.after a couple more painfully delicious thrusts he finally reaches his high, fucking his seed inside my over-stimulated cunt making sure to milk ever last of drop of cum out of his member.

he gently rubs my lower back before he pulls out of me watching his sticky seed rapidly spill out from my cunt, lifting me up again a bit to swiftly now hold me up in his arms peppering soft kisses on my skin.

“you better never see that loser again alright, your fucking my girl got it mama?”

THE END

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #georg listing #gustav schäfer

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ginkgo-phyta · 9 months ago

Note

heyy do you write for hotch? If yes can I request a fic with hotch falling asleep on reader's shoulder on the jet. like there are so many fics with reader sleeping on his shoulder and he's all soft about it and lets her. how would the bau react to see their tough boss just cuddle up with his girlfriend after a long case (it can be established relationship or before that too). thanku!

A/N: im screaming HAHA i LOVE THIS! i made this an established relationship hehe i hope you enjoy, my love!

tagged spencer reid x reader because i want more people to see this teehee pls dont hate me i have spencer fics yall should read if you havent already but also you should still read this too

fluff, BAU!reader, gender-neutral reader, mention of cannon type violence/hostage situation/nothing explicit or detailed, 1.8k words

“Hey, you okay?” Your tired eyes peered up at Aaron as he neared your seat on the jet, tie loosened and top button of his shirt undone. He had just gotten off the phone with the section chief, who, undoubtedly, scolded him as if he were a wayward adolescent. Although the smile he offered you in response was tight lipped and less-than-giving, his eyes told a different tale. They softened as they met yours, shedding their cold and hard façade to reveal a weary truth, littered with hints of desperation.

This case had been long and grueling, tensions insurmountably higher than usual with Erin Strauss breathing down Hotch’s neck, scrutinizing every decision he and the rest of the team made. You barely got a chance to talk to Aaron about how he was doing, always being waved off by the older man with “We can talk later,” or “It doesn’t matter right now, let’s focus on the case,”. Begrudgingly, you obliged, understanding there was no point in pushing him. It would only add to his stress. Although the case was solved, the end was arduous. The unsub had taken a hostage and, with the rest of the BAU’s input, the negotiation tactics went a different way than what Erin deemed appropriate.

A heavy sigh parted Aaron’s lips as he slumped into his seat, you could practically see steam of stress billowing off of him. “It’s fine, everything’s fine.” He spoke quietly, eyes closed, but you could tell he didn’t believe it to be true.

“Strauss tear you a new one?” Rossi piqued from across the table.

The unit chief huffed out a short laugh. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Rossi just nodded at this, turning his attention back to his notepad. Hotch looked to the rest of his team as they settled into their desired spots, “Let’s all get some rest, alright?”

Everyone wordlessly nodded, not having to be told twice.

Aaron lazily turned his head to you with a book in your lap, “You, too, Agent.” He gave you a playfully pointed look.

You breathed out a quiet chuckle, “I will, don’t worry.” You shut the book and turned to give your beloved undivided attention, gazing into his suddenly undecipherable, deep hickory eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”

He gently shook his head, eyelids feeling heavy as his blinks became slower and slower, “At home,” he whispered, your stomach doing a somersault at the notion. Aaron tried to fight sleep for just a few seconds longer, wanting to just stare at you for a bit.

You faced him, head leaned against the headrest, smile so warm and endearing. The way you chuckled at him was like getting a glimpse of heaven. He couldn’t wait to go home and have you all to yourself. The feeling of your arms wrapped around him was his life raft in the tumultuous storm of his emotions. It was hard for him to express what he was feeling all the time, but with you around his walls of reinforced concrete tumbled. Aaron gave you a small, sleepy smile.

Before he could say anything else, you spoke up. “Sleep,” it was a simple command, and the usually stubborn man melted into his seat at your word.

You took a couple minutes longer to watch him immediately fall into a deep slumber, his breaths becoming deeper and longer, lips parted ever-so-slightly, eyebrows twitching here and there. With a breathy laugh, you fought the urge to reach up and caress his face and move the little stray strands of hair off of his forehead, still aware that your coworkers could witness such an intimate moment. The two of you had begun dating five months ago, but it wasn’t until three months later that you broke the news to the team.

It had been a long time coming; for quite a while everyone knew about the feelings you harbored for your boss- even Hotch himself knew. You didn’t do a very good job of hiding it, taking every opportunity you could to blithely flirt with him. Some might just assume you did so in a similar way to how Penelope and Derek toy with each other, but the profilers knew in the back of their minds it wasn’t the case. Aaron fought you at first, pleading with you to stop calling him “handsome”, “big man”, or even “honey” in one case. You never gave in, though, buckling down on your efforts upon seeing the way he would chuckle caught off guard and almost blush in many instances. Slowly yet surely, he gave in to your teases. You burrowed your way into the stoic man’s heart, creating a place you would die before giving up. Aaron didn’t even realize it was happening until his world came crashing down on him one fateful evening.

A routine questioning of a suspect had led to you getting held hostage, the man whose house you went to turning out to be the unsub. This had happened many times before in the history of the BAU, but for some reason Aaron was more on edge. There was no covert entrance into the home and the unsub refused to open up a line of communication with the agents, leaving everyone in the dark wondering what the state of your wellbeing was. Aaron had begun pacing back and forth in the tent they had set up outside the house you were being held in, hands held to his head.

“Hotch, it’s going to be okay.” Derek stepped forward, trying to calm his superior’s nerves.

“He’s right, Aaron.” Rossi piped in. “We’ve dealt with this before, we can fix this.”

“No,” Hotch murmured back, “This isn’t the same. It’s not the same.” His pacing didn’t let up. “This is my fault, I should have told someone to go, too. I could have prevented this.”

The others held unspoken conversations within the glances they shared.

“Hotch-” Emily tried to speak up, to convince him that wasn’t the case.

“NO!” He yelled suddenly, stopping in his tracks. “You don’t understand, I can’t lose them!” His voice was heavy with despair, eyes wide in anguish.

All eyes were trained on him, his coworkers at loss for words at the confession.

“I can’t lose them…” Aaron mumbled this himself before roughly pushing out of the tent.

You smiled to yourself as you took a last glance towards the sleeping man next to you before turning back to your book. Safe to say, you were incredibly shocked when Aaron showed up on your doorstep in the dark of the night all those months ago, soaked in the rain, kissing you with a sense of urgency before you could even ask him what he was doing there. You bit your lip at the memory, but shook it out of your head to try and focus in on the jumbled words swimming in your lap. From the get-go, the two of you decided you would remain extremely professional around your coworkers, and you did just that. You stopped your teasing, for the most part at least, and made sure to never initiate physical contact on the job. Anyone that didn’t already know you were in a relationship would never have guessed. The most you allowed yourselves was sitting next to one another on the jet, just like you were doing now.

An unintelligible murmur and huff sounding from your side drew your short-lived attention away from the delicate pages in front of you. Just as you were about to look over to Aaron and make sure he was okay, a heavy weight thumped onto your shoulder. His head. You were taken aback, a giggle slipping through your lips before you could help it. Your fingers flew up to your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet as you noticed him shift a bit, making himself more comfortable. Sure, you’d accidentally fallen against Hotch’s shoulder in your sleep a couple times before the two of you entered a relationship, but never in a million years did you expect him to do the same to you. On the jet. In front of everyone. Of course, he couldn’t control his actions in his sleep, you reasoned. And maybe you should gently shrug him off to help retain his authority around the teasing profilers. But, this time, you fought off that thinking and gave in to your instinct. He had been so tense and strung out this entire case, you knew he needed this.

To hell with professionalism. You thought with a devilish grin, happy in your resolution. And so, you gently closed your book and slid it onto the table in front of you, trying your best to move as little as possible before leaning your head against his own and closing your eyes. With the gentle hum of the jet engines and the comforting sounds of Aaron’s breathing, you were lulled into a wonderful slumber in no time.

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed out, garnering the attention of Spencer who rested in the same group of seats as her. He looked up at her with one eye from where he was slumped over in his window seat, trying to get some shut-eye.

“Huh?” the sleepy doctor grumbled, pushing himself a bit more upright when he noticed Emily looking at something on the other side of the jet, her face a mixture of shock and glee.

The raven-haired agent began slapping Derek’s shoulder, who sat peacefully next to her with his eyes closed and headphones over his ears. His eyes flew open, looking over to Emily with annoyance as he took off his headphones, “What! What!”

Immediately Emily shushed him, “Look!” she whispered, hand flying wildly in the air, eyes still unmoving.

Derek followed her line of sight the scene before him pulling a laugh of disbelief from his lungs. “Well, well, well…”

Emily’s hands covered her mouth in astonishment. “JJ!” she whispered over to the blonde who lay curled up on the sofa next to them. “Ugh,” she groaned quietly, unable to wake her coworker.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered mostly to herself, settling back in her seat, garnering a shake of Morgan’s head.

The view of their hard-headed unit chief sleeping peacefully on the shoulder of his subordinate, the latter’s head resting sweetly back on his was suddenly blacked by the side of Rossi’s body as he stuck his arm out, trying to get the best angle to immortalize this moment on camera.

“Good for them,” Morgan grinned, his voice proudly announcing his amusement as he put his headphones back over his head.

“Rossi, you better send me that!” Emily spoke up just a little bit louder, the old man looking back and motioning his phone towards her in acknowledgement.

“What? What!?” Spencer whisper-yelled, unsuccessfully craning his head above and between the seats to get a glimpse of what all the hubbub was about, “What are you guys looking at!?”

“Penelope’s gonna flip,” Emily mumbled to herself, a teasing smile playing on her face as she looked down at the picture Rossi sent her. Without a second thought, she saved the photo onto her phone. They’re never gonna live this down.

A/N: i hope you liked this!! i had a fun time writing it ehehe hotch is such a dilf, like an ACTUAL dilf im not even attracted to fathers but hotch?? all day, every day, baby!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #spencer reid x reader

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peetaslefttoe · 1 year ago

Note

could you write a smut where you and peeta have been dating for a month, but havent gotten intimate yet? finally he asks if yall could get intimate and it becomes very spicy - fem! reader pls ❤️

warnings: oral (fem! receiving), p in v, lil bit of filth, sub Peeta oops 🤭

summary: request above

author’s note: ahh i love that idea sm tyyy 🫶 sub peeta is my religion 🙏🙏🙏

Masterlist Pinned xx

Peeta sat down beside you, placing a warm hand on your leg. You swung your legs over his, lying back against the armrest. He traced circles and patterns with his fingers on your thighs sending shivers up your back.

You and Peeta had been dating for a month now, you didn’t think you’d ever been so in love with a boy as you were with him. His gentle gaze set your heart on fire, his careful touch and soft expression eating away at your resolve. You’d spent day after day with him in the woods, walking through town, sitting at home. There was one thing buzzing in the back of your mind, despite all of the happiness and butterflies the last few weeks had brought… you couldn’t help but crave more. Every innocent touch had you melting under his hands, you had trouble resisting your urge to straddle him and fuck him right now. His jaw clenching in the firelight, his strong arms across your legs, tickling at your sensitive skin. Suddenly your horny silence was broken by his deep voice.

“Hey Y/N?” he asked, looking to you suddenly.

“Hm?” you responded, turning your eyes to meet his own.

“I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve been spending together… I really do like you and-,” he paused, contemplating his next words, “If you’re not ready I would never push you, I just wanted to let you know that I’m ready… when you are I mean,” he finished awkwardly, his cheeks blushing.

“Ready for what?” you asked feigning innocence as his eyes flicked across your face trying to read your expression.

“You know… I want to feel you, around me,” he said quietly, looking down at the his fingers as they traced your thighs. You smirked at his sudden shyness, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to see him better.

“You want me to fuck you, pretty boy?” you asked slyly, relishing in his embarrassment. He paused for a moment before nodding. You sat up coming down to straddle him and cupping his jaw in your hands. You leaned in kissing him gently. He pulled back, trying to speak.

“Can I taste you?” he asked with a sudden burst of confidence. You felt him grow hard beneath your ass as he grew increasingly desperate.

“I don’t know…” you said, cocking your head at him. God how you wanted to hear pathetic begs fall from his delicate lips.

“Please,” he nearly whimpered, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Beg me for it,” you demanded, looking down at him and running your hands up his chest slowly.

“Please Y/N, can I please eat your pussy? I haven’t been able to stop touching myself thinking of how you must taste,” he confessed, his cheeks bright with embarrassment and need. You smiled, satisfied with his answer. You climbed off him, gesturing for him to lie down before you shimmied out of your panties and pulled your shirt over your head, baring yourself to him. Peeta’s breathing quickened at the sight of your body, he clenched his hands into fists trying to regain control as his cock throbbed painfully in his jeans.

“Go on, take your dick out darling,” you said, wanting to see how he got off on pleasuring you. He obeyed quickly, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants before lowering them enough to release his cock and balls.

“Fuck, such a pretty dick,” you moaned, nearly drooling. You held yourself back from your urge to spend hours licking and sucking his fat, dripping length. You snapped out of your thoughts when Peeta cupped his sack, whimpering loudly.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“Need you, need to taste you,” he whined. You tugged his shirt over his head before straddling his shoulders. You placed a soft kiss on his head and brushed his sweaty blonde hair from his face. You then moved forward, lowering yourself slowly down onto his outstretched tongue. You moaned as his open mouth embraced your sensitive pussy. You felt his whimpers spread from your core up your spine. You threw your head back whining as he devoured you like a starved man. He sucked at you, filthy noises filled the room as he latched onto your soaked pussy. You felt your legs shake around him as you clutched his face into you. Suddenly he pulled back making you groan at the loss of contact.

“Please, I want you to cum on my cock pretty girl,” he said lowly, squeezing your hips gently. You smirked down at him before moving back down to straddle him.

“Normally i’d punish you for stopping mommy from cumming but my cunt is fucking dripping,” you said, pressing a firm kiss to his sore tip. He whimpered at the feeling and bucked up into your face. You grasped his hips, pinning him back down.

“Can you be patient for me Peeta?” you asked slowly. He moaned at your use of his name, grinding his hips and nodding needily. You brought a tight fist to his hard length, easing yourself down onto him. He shuddered, his face contorting in pleasure.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking tight,” he nearly whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching the sheets beneath him. You moaned at his words, slowly setting a pace as you bounced on his thick cock.

“You’re stretching me out so good Peeta,” you said breathily as your wet hole burned at the size of his length. He rutted up into you at your praise, his cheeks turning crimson.

“You like it when I praise you, don’t you pretty boy?” he nodded pathetically, his eyes begging you to continue.

“Such a good boy for me, letting me milk your big cock,”

“yes mommy i’m a good boy,” he whispered, his eyes shut in pleasure. He suddenly realized his slip up, he sat up slightly in shock, his eyes snapping open. “I- I’m sorry i didn’t mean to say that,” he stuttered nervously. You laughed softly, cupping his cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize, that was beyond hot baby,” you pushed him back on the bed, plunging his throbbing dick into you harder than ever.

“Mommy,” he whined, testing the waters as you rode him furiously.

“Such a good boy for mommy, think you can fill me up with you stickies?” you asked, breathing heavily as his dick rammed into your sweet spot with each stroke.

“Yes mommy, gonna fill you all up,” he cried, his body stiffening as he shot ropes of warm cum, coating your walls as you rode him wildly. Your own orgasm hit you like a train, you pulled yourself from his dripping cock and rubbed at your clit, shaking. You came hard, squirting all over his chest and face as your hips bucked and your hole leaked his hot cum.

You lay beside him, your bodies leaking fluids and the smell of sex and fresh sweat coating the sheets. You kissed him deeply, as he held you tight.

“I love you so much Y/N,” Peeta whispered. You smiled against his lips.

“I love you too baby,”

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ryndicate · 2 years ago

Text

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal.

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?”

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why.

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job.

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him.

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead.

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts.

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact.

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways.

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head.

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one.

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously.

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong."

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own.

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort.

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!"

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing.

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute.

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow.

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief.

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him.

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training.

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are.

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else.

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see.

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense.

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side.

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table.

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you.

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul.

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night.

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night.

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves.

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”.

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead.

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?”

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.”

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him.

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt.

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out.

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him.

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night.

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him.

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust.

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now.

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word.

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?"

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye.

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence.

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good.

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade.

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding.

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making.

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease.

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair.

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day.

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement.

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it.

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?"

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart.

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?"

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently.

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight.

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?"

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes."

"Tell me."

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away.

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo.

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?”

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?”

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him.

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady.

“Sit up for me.”

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations.

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish.

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded.

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please."

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead."

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that.

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?"

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface.

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it."

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me."

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar.

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p—

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit.

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores.

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance.

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you.

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall.

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again."

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen."

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh.

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again."

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..."

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me."

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself."

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh."

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously.

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly.

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate.

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature.

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing."

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out.

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?"

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far.

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him.

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting.

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

#kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #csm x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut

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