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aewon · 15 hours ago

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cute, no?

sunghoon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!! wc: 4157 warnings: kissing, rough sex, mouth fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, mean sunghoon, inexperienced (but not virgin) reader, mention of chaewon, yunjin, hanni and karina. both sunghoon and reader are kinda weird. name calling (reader calls sunghoon a whore), multiple orgasms, nude sending. if there’s anything i missed lmk.

note: this is a repost from my other account that is now deleted @/wonkizz, also this isn’t proofread so ignore any fuck ups lol

You knew your roommate was somewhat of a whore. It never bothered you, if anything, you were jealous.

He just….snapped his fingers and girls fell at his feet.

You wished you could bag guys that easily.

Albeit you and Sunghoon rarely acknowledged each other. How did you become roommates in the first place, you may be wondering? It’s very simple. You were living with your sister, she moved out to live with her boyfriend, you needed a new roommate, Sunghoon answered your facebook ad. Simple as that.

The only rules you had were keeping the space clean and not being too loud at night.

Sunghoon definitely kept up with the first one, never having a hair out of place.

The second, well… not so much. But, it didn’t bother you. You had really good noise canceling headphones for a reason.

Though at night, you could still hear the sounds of the multitude of girls he would bring home day in and day out.

Their loud moans, whimpers, mewls, borderline screams!

You don’t know if the sex is really good, or if they’re just really sensitive.

It must be Sunghoon though, right?

But is he really that good?

Sometimes you find yourself wishing you were in those girls' places…but you know he’d never go for someone like you.

Something you haven’t mentioned, Sunghoon is like, drop dead gorgeous. You’re surprised he hasn’t been casted as a model or an idol or something.

But he’s just a struggling student like you. Clearly not struggling in the sex department though.

You’re not a virgin, but you’ve only had sex three times in your 22 years of life.

All three times were not that satisfying and personally you don’t blame yourself.

You just haven’t found that person who can really do it for you, and your own hand and toy have started to become…tired.

It’s been quite some time since you’ve felt the touch of another person. You’ve started craving, like you’re touch-starved.

Back to the topic of Sunghoon, he’s mesmerizing and you are a stereotypical nerd.

You’re not ugly, but your everyday appearance is not exactly eye-catching like what Sunghoon typically brings home.

You find yourself thinking about him more often than not. What he’s into sexually. How far he’s willing to go.

One thing about you, you’re very, very sensitive.

You’ve made yourself come 5 times in a span of 20 minutes.

Another thing about you, you’re somewhat of a freak…or maybe a major freak?

Safe to say you think about sex way more than you should, and you are not as vanilla as your friends think you are.

God, if you could just get one crack at Sunghoon, you’d be happy.

But alas, that’s just a dream.

It’s midnight on a Friday, you’ve just gotten out of the shower after doing your whole night routine.

You slip on some comfy pjs (aka an oversized tee and shorts) and make your way to the couch with a late night snack (black raspberry dark chocolate chunk ice cream) ready to indulge in the food network.

Sunghoon isn’t home, you figure he’s out at a party or with friends.

You’re digging into your pint of ice cream when the front door opens.

Sunghoon steps inside and you hear a giggle behind him.

Someone, a woman, steps in behind him.

Their lips are about to meet when her eyes find yours.

“Oh!” She exclaims, pulling away. “This must be your roommate! You didn’t tell me she was so…cute!”

This woman is gorgeous. Sleek, black hair, beautiful body that’s wrapped in a dress that fits her perfectly and her face is something out of a magazine.

She must be looking at you, with your oversized, not to mention stained, tee and shorts, glasses and ice cream in hand like you’re a joke. An utter, complete, joke.

Sunghoon barely spares a glance at you, clearing his throat and gesturing between you and this woman, “Karina, Y/N, Y/N, Karina,” he introduces you to her.

All you can do is wave before realizing the situation you’re in.

Sunghoon has once again brought a woman home and you’re clearly in the way.

You spring up from the couch, “I didn’t mean to be in the way, I'll just go to my room!”

Before either can say anything, you turn off the tv and nearly sprint to your room, ice cream still in hand.

You shut the door behind you, listening to footsteps.

You hear them making their way to Sunghoon’s room, right across from yours.

“She’s cute, no?” You hear Karina ask.

“I guess, not really my type though,” Sunghoon responds.

Ouch. You already knew it, but hearing it said aloud stings more than you thought it would.

The sex Sunghoon and Karina have that night is so loud, even your headphones can block it.

Her moans and squeals of his name infiltrate your mind into the morning, as you barely got any sleep.

You assume Karina is still in the apartment by time you get up for your early morning class.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea when Sunghoon comes in, rubbing his eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

This is the first time he’s ever bothered to say this to you, not to mention the first time he’s ever acknowledged you in the morning.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile as you push up your glasses, “Not at all.”

Once you leave the apartment, the walk to campus isn’t far.

Your best friend, Chaewon, is already waiting for you in front of your first class.

By the time you’re free, you meet up with your other friends, Yunjin and Hanni.

“What’s up with you?” Hanni asks, “You seem down.”

You sigh, “Sunghoon brought a really pretty girl home last night.”

They all raise their brows at you, “Okay,” Yunjin says, “that’s never bothered you before? Why now?”

“Because,” you start, “she called me cute.”

“She called you…cute?” Chaewon questions. “Why is that bad?”

“It’s not, but after I went back into my room, I heard them and she said to Sunghoon ‘She’s cute, no?’ and Sunghoon said ‘I guess, but she’s not really my type’. I already knew I wasn’t but hearing it said out loud stung a lot.”

Hanni rubs your shoulder.

“Well who gives a fuck what Sunghoon thinks!” Yunjin says. “You know you’re beautiful, and he’s just a man at the end of the day!”

“I know!” You groan, burying your head in your arms, “I know I shouldn’t care about his opinion or whether I’m his type or not but it’s like, when someone so attractive doesn’t see you that way it’s like, damn!”

You continue, “It’s not like I’m even into him romantically or anything like that. If anything, I’m just into him sexually, cause if you guys heard what I did you probably would be too!”

“So it’s not about romantic feelings, just sexual feelings?” Hanni asks.

You nod, “More like sexual frustration. I haven’t had sex in so long and it’s kinda killing me at this point.”

“So what if you make him acknowledge you sexually?” Chaewon implies.

“How do I do that? Like he said, I’m not even his type.”

“Well number one, acknowledge that this is just for sex. You’re not changing anything about yourself for him because at the end of the day he’s just a man and we don’t change ourselves for men, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, then, do something to get his attention. Something sexual. Something that’ll catch his eye without changing how you are or who you are.”

You all pause for a moment, thinking of possible ideas.

Yunjin, after 5 minutes, lights up, “I’ve got it!”

After a long, somewhat agitating day of classes, you find yourself back at home.

You took another long, hot shower, did your night routine and dressed yourself in the cutest pj set you have.

What exactly was Yunjin’s plan? Take some pictures and “accidentally” send them to Sunghoon.

Now, have you ever taken nudes before? No. But you did a little research and you figure it can’t be that hard.

With your top pulled up and your tits fully exposed, you sit on your bed, front camera facing your tits.

The lighting is perfect, dim, but not too dark.

As you snap the pic, flash off, you look at it and…damn. If that’s not a good pic, you don’t know what is!

You spend the next 10 minutes debating if you should really do this. What if you just embarrass yourself completely and Sunghoon doesn’t buy into it at all?

Then you’ll never live it down.

But, you won’t know if you don’t try.

You pull up his contact, saved simply as ‘Sunghoon’

and attach the photo with the invisible ink effect and type ‘what do you think?’ before hitting send.

You nearly throw your phone across the room, but instead just slam it face down as your heart starts to beat more rapidly.

You know Sunghoon isn’t home right now, nor do you even know if he’ll be coming home tonight.

The only thing you can do is hope and pray for the best.

You exit out of the messages, not wanting him to know you’re waiting for a response and scroll through your phone trying not to panic.

After an agonizing few minutes, your phone dings.

You prepare yourself for embarrassment.

Sunghoon responded.

You’re expecting shock. An exclamation of sorts. Heck, even a question mark or two.

Instead, all you see is, ‘They’re nice.’

They’re nice.

Did he just fucking say, they’re nice?

Is that good?

You text the group chat a screenshot asking the same question.

The girls respond immediately, telling you to go forth with the plan, that that’s a good sign.

You take a deep breath. Don’t overdo it.

You: omg

You: sunghoon i’m so sorry

You: i didn’t mean to send that to you

He reads it and responds immediately.

Sunghoon: then who did you mean to send it to?

You: a friend

Sunghoon: what friend?

You: don’t worry about it! just please accept my apology :( i’m so sorry again

The text bubble indicates he’s typing, then it disappears and reappears.

Sunghoon: I’m coming home.

Sunghoon: Don’t move.

That last text makes your pussy throb in your pajama shorts.

You send the screenshot to the group chat which erupts immediately.

Chaewon: oh shitttt hehehe

Hanni: i fear you’re getting fucked into the mattress tonight

Yunjin: you mean you don’t fear lmao good luck girl

You occupy yourself for the time being, knowing Sunghoon will be home shortly.

As soon as you hear that front door open, you act nonchalantly, scrolling through your phone as if you’re not ecstatic.

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother knocking, opening your door and letting himself into your room.

His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his face is stoic.

You look up at him innocently.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, knowing damn well you’re playing with fire.

Sunghoon scoffs, not saying a word as he walks to the side of your bed, grabbing your phone and throwing it to the side, not even watching where it lands.

You however do watch where it lands on the floor a few feet away and are about to protest when Sunghoon grabs you by the jaw.

“Do you like playing games you know you’re not gonna win?” He asks, voice low and condescending.

Fuck, if it doesn’t make your pussy more wet than it already is.

His grip on your jaw tightens, making you whimper. But you like the pain, and he knows that immediately.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands, finally letting go of your jaw.

You move to do as he says, albeit slowly.

Starting with your top, you lift it over your head, your tits falling out into view.

His eyes latch onto them immediately, and you take note of how he licks his lower lip.

“Shorts too,” he says.

You lay back against your pillows, lifting your hips to drag your shorts down your legs, sitting back up to then throw them in the same direction as your shirt.

Sunghoon smirks in amusement, “Of course you’re not wearing underwear. You’re a little slut aren’t you?”

Your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips and you watch as his eyes follow it.

Sunghoon begins to undress himself, starting with his shirt.

His pale skin is beautiful and the expanse of his toned torso almost makes you drool.

Your eyes find his arms, taking in his biceps and how much you want them around your neck.

“Hey, eyes here,” he says, snapping you back to his own face, making you keep your focus on him.

He unbuckles his belt, taking his time undoing it, pulling it out of the loop, letting it drop to the floor.

You know for a fact that your pussy is leaking onto your bed right now, and you don’t give a damn.

Sunghoon lets his pants fall, stepping out of them.

Now, he’s just left in his boxers.

“Come here, on your knees,” he gestures to you with his finger to the floor.

You obey immediately, crawling off the bed to the floor.

The carpet of your room scratches against your knees but you don’t care.

“Take them off.”

Your hands reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down gently.

His hard cock springs out, slapping against his stomach before stilling in front of you.

Sunghoon’s left hand finds the back of your head, grasping your hair tightly.

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, eager as he chuckles in amusement, “You must love cock don’t you?” He asks, using his right hand to slap the tip of his cock against your tongue, then spreading his pre-cum all over it as you hum in appreciation.

He quietly begins to push his cock into your mouth, before pulling back out.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, as saliva piles in your mouth and drips down the sides.

Suddenly he shoves himself into your mouth, until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag erratically.

Saliva spills out of your mouth rapidly, drilling onto the floor.

Your hands find his thighs, palms open, squeezing softly.

“I told you,” Sunghoon says, “don’t play games you’re not gonna win.”

With that, he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your mouth, getting off on how much you’re gagging.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as spit and pre-cum mix together to coat his cock and spill everywhere.

He uses your hair as leverage, not letting up for even a second.

You keep your eyes on his as he uses you for his pleasure, even as your tears blur your vision.

“Fucking filthy,” he sneers, “I’m gonna cum in this filthy fucking mouth and you’re gonna swallow it, understood?”

You do your best to nod with his cock still in your mouth.

Suddenly he pulls out, and you gasp for air.

Sunghoon continues to pump himself, still holding onto your hair, “Stick your tongue out,” he says.

You do so and soon he’s spilling his load all over your tongue and into your mouth.

Just as he’s finished, he leans down, dropping a glob of spit on top of everything.

“Swallow.”

You do, eagerly, showing him your clean tongue once you’re done.

He pulls you up by your hair, leading you back to the bed.

Sunghoon shoves you down onto your back, pushing you so you’re up by the headboard, head on the pillows.

He’s on his knees in front of you, cock still hard.

He pushes you into a mating press, your thighs pushed against your chest, practically folded in half.

Without warning, he leans down, tongue meeting your wet, sopping pussy.

You gasp, jerking in place as you squeal from the immediate pleasure it gives you.

“Sunghoon!” You cry, eyes wide as his nonchalant ones look into yours.

“What?” He responds, as if it’s nothing.

“I’m..I’m sensitive.”

He smirks, “Then that means I get to make you come more than once.”

He goes back to your pussy, pinning you down to the bed as he eats you like a starved man.

Sunghoon groans at your taste, licking fat stripes up and down your pussy.

He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly, even having the balls to scrape it with his teeth lightly.

All this while your back arches up from the bed, hips held in place by Sunghoon’s hands.

“Oh my fucking god!” You shout into the open, knowing this would get you a one way ticket to hell.

Sunghoon then takes his tongue, fucking it into your hole.

You squeal loudly, hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of you.

More tears form in your eyes before falling like water from a faucet.

You’re full on crying from pleasure.

When you said you were sensitive, you meant it.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna cum,” you whine,” one hand threading itself into his long locks.

He, who was occupying himself, makes his way back to your clit, licking circles around it, up and down, figure eights, anything to make you cum in his mouth.

You’re chanting to god, any god at this point.

With one final call of his name, you cum into his mouth, Sunghoon lapping it all up, swallowing it eagerly as you did to him.

Your breathing is heavy as you’re coming down from your high, noticing as Sunghoon pulls away, his lips glistening with your release on them.

He licks his lips, with that the remnants of you.

Just as you’re beginning to calm down, Sunghoon speaks, “We’re nowhere near done, sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes his left hand and middle finger and inserts it inside you, making you gasp.

He doesn’t give you the chance to protest or adjust before he’s thrusting it in and out of you.

You throw your head back, getting used to the intrusion regardless.

Soon he’s inserting another finger, and together those fingers fuck you like no one has ever fingered you.

His fingers are long and they hit every spot inside you immediately.

Before you know it, you’re crying again in pleasure, the tears falling down your cheeks, leaving tear stains like the previous ones.

“Oh my fucking god, Sunghoon.”

“You love this, don’t you,” he says, almost like he’s mocking you.

His fingers curl, hitting that one spot inside you that has your toes curling.

Your mouth opens in shock, and stays open, refusing to close as he finger fucks you open.

Your pussy gets wetter as he goes on, more and more arousal leaking out of you onto his hand.

“You’re like a fountain,” he says, smiling almost genuinely. “You gonna cum again?”

You nod, finally closing your mouth, your lips pursing as you feel something different this time around.

“Sunghoon I think I’m gonna—”

And before you can finish, you’re squirting like an actual fountain, the liquid splashing out of you onto your sheets and Sunghoon’s hand.

You gasp, and even Sunghoon is surprised, his own mouth formed into an o.

His fingers finally slow down, pulling out of you as you finish.

Both of you are quiet for a moment before Sunghoon laughs, “That was fucking hot.”

You can’t help but blush, you’ve never squirted before.

It seems he can tell, “You’ve never done that before?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first to do it.”

He then lands a surprisingly slap on your pussy, making you jump.

Your eyes widen, looking at him in shock and all he does is smile.

“I’m still not done with you,” he says.

“More?” You question.

“You didn’t think you’d get out of this without me fucking you, did you?”

Sunghoon pulls you towards him by your ankles, holding your legs apart before aligning himself with your hole.

You prepare yourself for his size as quickly as you can, because within seconds he’s pushing in.

You take deep breaths, “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I know,” he responds accordingly.

You pout at that, smacking his arm as he laughs at you.

He gives you time to adjust this time around, and after a moment you give him the signal to move.

You realize now he’s calmed down a little bit from before, which you don’t mind, seeing as this is a new side of him.

As he starts to piston his hips, his cock hits all the right places.

Your hands find their place on his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He groans at the feeling, liking the pain.

You mewl at the power in his thrusts, the roll of his hips.

“Fuck, yes Sunghoon.”

“You like taking my cock?”

“Love it,” you manage to get out.

“Oh you love it?” He teases you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sunghoon,” you say.

He hums, focused on fucking you into the mattress.

You take his hand, bringing it up and wrapping it around your throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own widen for a moment before he bites his lip.

He presses down on the sides of your throat, just enough to wind you slightly.

“Dirty fucking girl.”

He keeps his hand there, steady pressure, making you feel closer and closer to cumming again.

“You gonna cum on my cock this time?” Sunghoon asks.

“Yes, yes, Sunghoon! Want you to cum in me!”

Sunghoon steadies himself, and uses his other hand to press on the bulge in your tummy.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

You feel the band in your stomach snap for the third time tonight, cumming all around Sunghoon’s cock as you feel him cum inside you, pumping you full.

As his thrusts start to slow down and finally come to a stop, he unwraps his hand from your throat and just looks at you.

Your face, adorned by your glasses. Your red, tear stained cheeks. You look up at him, blinking a few times in succession, “What?”

Sunghoon leans down and for the first time, kisses you.

You kiss him back, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

As you pull away, he looks like there’s something on his mind.

You want to ask what it is, but choose not to.

After using the bathroom, Sunghoon helps you change your sheets and you both redress.

You figure he’s going to go back to his room, but he surprises you as he slides into your bed beside you.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, and then, Sunghoon speaks, “So, be honest with me. Who was that picture meant for?”

You take a deep breath, gunning between telling a lie and the truth. The truth eventually wins the battle.

“The truth is, it wasn’t meant for anyone. I sent it to you on purpose,” you say.

Sunghoon’s brows furrow, “But you said it was an accident?”

“Yeah, I lied. The truth is the other night, when you had Karina over I heard you tell her I’m not your type.”

Sunghoon starts to stutter out an excuse, “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, Sunghoon,” you say, cutting him off. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting but at the end of the day I already knew I wasn’t your type. The reality is I kinda just wanted you in my bed so I devised a plan with my friends to make you see me differently and well… it obviously worked.”

Sunghoon is quiet, until he’s not.

You expect him to be weirded out, curse you out and call you names. But instead, he starts laughing.

“That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard and yet…I kinda like it.”

You look at him to find him already staring at you.

“You’re not weirded out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m oddly flattered. Maybe that’s weird but I guess that makes us both weird then.”

Suddenly, he’s shifting so he’s on top of you, caging you underneath him.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you, albeit somewhat awkwardly, place them on his shoulders.

“Is it safe to say you fascinate me now?” Sunghoon asks, leaning down, placing slow, deliberate kisses on your neck and shoulder.

You naturally turn your head to give him more access, “I guess not. I’ve never had someone tell me I fascinate them.”

Sunghoon’s kisses trail upwards until his lips meet yours in another fiery kiss.

Breaking away after a while, he descends until his mouth is adjacent to your clothed pussy.

“Sunghoon,” you interrupt, “we just changed the sheets.”

He looks up at you, a twinkle in his eye, “We can change them again.”

AEWON 2025

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jjjjisun · 1 day ago

Text

The Concert

Eunha X Male Reader | 11571 words

TW: Incest

—

"See ya mom!" my little sister Eunha shouted as she headed out the door.

She was going to her friend Umji's for a sleepover or something. If you asked me, the little denim skirt she was wearing under her poor-attempt-to-cover-it jacket said Umji's parents probably weren't home and it probably wasn't going to be just her and the other girls. More likely it would involve as much booze as high school kids could get their hands on and a bunch of horny teenagers leering at my little sister's outfit. I cringed at the thought, but she'd gotten past my parents so... whatever, I wasn't going to cause trouble.

Truthfully, I wasn't being completely honest with my parents either. Then again, they wouldn't get nearly as upset with me if I wasn't telling the truth as Eunha. I was in college and she was in high school. After all the shit I'd pulled in my senior year, my little sis was unlikely to get away with anything. She was lucky to sneak by without them seeing what she was wearing as she walked out the door. Her bare legs weren't exactly easy to miss.

It wasn't the first time either. Only two weeks ago I'd found Eunha passed out on the back stoop to our house. Obviously she knew some of the same tricks as I; if you were just quiet enough when opening the back door you could avoid walking past our parents' room on the way to your own after curfew.

I was on my way in and there was my little sis "sleeping" with her head against the post as if she'd just decided to take a seat on the way in, or so she told me when I shook her awake. But before I did... well I couldn't just un-see what she was wearing; besides, I hadn't the wits to complain. A little skirt that was fanned out where she sat, a snug cotton tank top that's black in color complemented her skin perfectly... she looked cute. I remember thinking then that if she was just another girl at the party I was coming from I probably would have tried to take her home.

That night she had gotten a little too drunk and walked home; she needed every bit of the support I offered as I took her upstairs to bed. Though that night was no different than the two or three times before when I'd found her in a similar state, I hoped she would finally take my advice not to come home so drunk again. Maybe next time I wouldn't be there to sling her over my shoulder on the way up the stairs. And I don't know many guys who would have covered her up so our parents didn't see her clothes all bunched around her chest and waist after I'd dropped her drunken self on the bed.

I think she knew I had done it, because she was especially nice to me that next day. I guess we understood each other better than I thought sometimes. It was probably the same reason that we exchanged that glance of knowing when we heard each other's answers to the question "what are your plans tonight?" from our dad. Sure I had the brotherly instinct to be worried about her in that outfit she couldn't quite hide under her coat. But I wouldn't stand in her way I was sure she'd be smart... enough.

And that was pretty much the last thought I had of her after I walked out the door. I took my truck over to my friend Minho's where we were meeting a few more friends. Minho had gotten us four tickets to an outdoor concert and our other three friends were going to try and sneak in - it wasn't too hard anyway. As soon as we were all loaded in the cab and truck bed both, a couple of cases of beer tucked between legs, we took off to a place a few miles outside the city.

When we got there of course the drinking started. there was more booze than I thought; I knew I'd have to leave my car behind. We all agreed to meet back at Mina's house where apparently nobody was home and then it was off to the front gate. Mina's friend Momo had caught my eye so I made sure to be near her when we went past the gate and inevitably lost a few stragglers. Momo was a tiny brunette with way bigger tits than I would have expected - probably due to a helpful bra. Her cute face didn't hurt but damn... I wondered if she had caught me staring one of the few times I couldn't take my eyes off her chest.

But once I got in... whoa... I didn't worry too much that Momo would be my go-to girl for the night because there were thousands of others. Hundreds...thousands, well I guess I am not great at approximating numbers but the venue was probably bigger than a football field in total. I saw the back fence where my friends would likely try and get in and headed to it.

"You jerk..." I heard from the bushes while standing there flirting with Momo.

It was Mina followed by a smiling Sung, the most drunk of our bunch that night, and I could tell he had just smacked her bare leg and probably a good handful of her ass. I couldn't help but laugh and neither could Momo. She put a hand on my arm and leaned in. I had to admit, she was pretty hot compared to a lot of the girls there; maybe I wouldn't have to even try that hard.

We all got together and stood in-line for a beer while I admired Momo and the other girls walking around in all manner of outfits and some in practically nothing at all. The music we were seeing was heavily electronic so from my little experience I knew this would be nothing short of a rave. I was starting to feel pretty dazed and that's probably why I was getting handsy with Momo.

By the time the music had started I'd lost count of my beer intake. I was holding her and Momo was rubbing against me. There really isn't a better feeling than the rumble of bass deep in your chest and the warm skin of a pretty girl close to you. Especially when she's feeling the same warm tingling that was pulling me closer to her.

At some point, I don't know when, we got separated. Perhaps it was the tan-skinned exotic looking girl who was leaning back with her hand caressing my neck. I looked down and she was wearing a top with fabric that crisscrossed her body so her sides were left bare. Her abdomen was just as tan as the rest of her and from the times she looked back at me I could see her eyes were no less alluring.

I think we made out for some time, but after talking to her for only a moment or so I realized, unfortunately, that she was either too dim-witted or too drunk to pass for more than a good-looking dance partner. The music was phenomenal, I was just the right amount of drunk, and I was flitting around from girl to girl and dancing like a fool. I was having a better time than I could have hoped for and even more so when I finally found my group of friends again. I remember thinking we should go to concerts like that more often when a really popular song came on and we started rough-housing and hollering as it began.

In the middle of the song there was a sudden jolt in the tempo and we were jumping up and down to the beat. I looked back. The crowd was jumping too, waves rippling back over the ocean of fans. Colored lights panned this way and that with the music, the beat of drums being absorbed by a dense blanket of people.

I was jumping and fist-pumping and doing all of the dumb stuff that seemed to be perfectly acceptable in that moment. Once I jumped and caught a glimpse of a guy crowd surfing. Again I jumped and saw the huge cloud of smoke that was hovering over the crowd. Once more and I caught a glimpse of what had to be the least dressed girl at the party. Naturally, I looked for her again.

Her whole back was bare, and it was all I could see of her through the throngs of people between us. I couldn't be sure but naturally I hoped her front was bare as well. She was jumping around wildly like me, and when she somewhat turned my way once or twice I could see she definitely wasn't wearing anything to support her breasts. They weren't huge, but from the side they looked like a nice little handful. It wasn't the first shirtless girl at the concert but usually the topless girls weren't the best to look at. This one had a toned little body and she looked like she knew how to use it.

I wandered forward without saying anything to my friends. A pang of guilt struck me for ditching them after we'd spent half the concert looking for each other, but I had to get closer to this girl. It was denser the closer I got to her. Not only was she farther up but it seemed like many of the guys around had the same idea as me. I pretended like I was pushing through to find my friends; that always seemed to work. All I ever got was the occasional grunt or mutter of frustration. I am a pretty decent sized guy so most people avoid conflict with me, I suppose.

I was about ten feet from her and my heart started to pound. I realized I was nervous. Something about the way this girl wasn't letting any of her leering onlookers near and seemed to be totally in her own world had me breathing fast and wondering what I would say. I watched her bob her head side to side, extend her arms up in the air and sway with the droning music the band was striking up in that moment.

The closer I got the better she looked... or maybe that was just the booze. When she turned to the side I saw a purple butterfly sticker over her nipple. Holy crap was that hot. It was almost as if seeing so much of her and yet being denied her fully naked form made me want her ten times more. The guts on this girl to wear so little to a concert that was sure to be full of young men with low morals... I resolved to take a shot.

I could see she had dirty pink hair now, and the only thing she seemed to have on besides two butterfly stickers was a short denim skirt. It wasn't unlike the one my little sister was hiding on her way out the door. I guess both of these girls knew how to get attention, though I hoped nobody had ever seen my Eunha without a top on, or so my protective instinct cautioned me. I finally made it close enough to make a move on the cutie, but not without a strong shoulder from a guy in a polo slightly larger than me. He yelled something and though I tried to ignore and walk past, I guess he wasn't pleased that I was getting between him and the nearly naked cutie. He grabbed my shoulder...

"Hey asshole!" he shouted and spun me his way.

I looked at him and tensed, wondering if I was going to have to defend myself or throw a punch.

"Relax man," I said, "I'm just looking for somebody."

"Fuck you!" he responded unreasonably, "you're just trying to get to the front!"

Usually, that would be true, but this time I was just trying to get near the most intoxicating girl I'd seen at the show. I readied myself to fight when I heard a voice behind me:

"OPPA!?"

The big guy's eyes darted over my shoulder. My fists were clenched and my already pounding heart had converted my nervous energy to adrenaline... yet the voice caught me off guard. The wide-eyed goon's gaze convinced me it was safe to turn around. And that's when I saw her.

denim skirt, some streaks of body paint across her abdomen and the two butterfly pasties I'd seen before were all there. The phenomenal body, perfect, firm breasts and adorable face I'd seen before too... on my little sister Eunha.

How could I not have seen? How didn't I know from the second I'd seen the familiar skirt? Why had my brain begged me to get closer to her when I must have known, subconsciously even, that this moment would come?

"Oppa!" she shouted again and then ran toward me. Her perfect little breasts jiggled as she pumped her legs and then jumped right at me. I caught her just in time, and it turned me toward the guy who had picked a fight. He glared, but it didn't seem he was going to interrupt us.

I could feel Eunha's tits pressed against my chest, and her toned legs firmly holding her in place. I was confused, a large part of me unwilling to let go of that magnetic pull that had drawn me to her. My little sister was practically naked in my arms and everyone around who had been staring at her for however long was watching us. Nobody could know who she was to me, or so I hoped. My eyes quickly scanned the crowd to see if any of our friends were watching. Her cheer friends were happily distracted near the front of the stage and there was at least a few hundred people between us and my group. I dared take my eyes off the crowd and look Eunha in the eye.

"Hey big bro," she said, still hanging on me like a monkey.

"Hey troublemaker." I said.

She smiled, a big, toothy grin, the way I always loved. Her gaze was a little friendly for a sister, as if the fact that her boobs were squished between us and our hips were locked together wasn't enough. I might have wondered where that was coming from, but I could smell whatever fruity vodka drink she'd had plenty of on her lips.

"YOU LIED!" Eunha pulled back while still seated in my arms and said loudly over the noise. "YOU told mom and dad that you were going to Minho's!"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, "and what about you?"

She scoffed, "what about ME?"

"I thought you were going to Umji's to practice some new cheer and sleep over?"

Eunha snickered guiltily. "Well, maybe I lied a little... you won't tell will you?"

"It depends," I threatened emptily.

Eunha was obviously one of those adorable drunks; I could hear it from the sing-songy inflection in her voice. But if you asked me she should not have been any kind of drunk with the hungry eyes I had seen fixed on her. Once again, maybe it was brotherly instinct or maybe I just knew what those guys were thinking.

I looked again at my little sister in my arms. I didn't know what to think. After all, I had come to her with much different intentions. She was still the same girl who'd just about stopped my heart when I saw her only from the side. Yes, I could see her flexing and moving her hips when I got close enough and her bare back was what had initially caught my eye. Her appearance had captured my attention, but her presence had drawn me in.

I wondered what our parents would think. Set aside Eunha's utter state of undress, and both of our irresponsible intoxication. What would they say if they saw Eunha wrapped around her brother with her teenage chest and tiny hips held tight to me. What would they say if they saw her moving up and down to the beat of the music, causing her to rub up against my already confused manhood... wait...?

She WAS doing it. Whether intentionally or not, that little minx... she was bouncing herself rhythmically and it was simply not the kind of contact a little sister should be making with her brother. She had to know... but as I looked at her again and saw that carefree smile and open mouth yelling out to the band, I knew I couldn't hold it against her.

I also knew I couldn't hold IT against her either. I was reacting to her attentions in a way that made me all the more conflicted. I lifted Eunha from me, quite easily except when she fought to hold on to me. I always loved her playfulness.

When I set her down again I was treated to another uninhibited look at her beautiful body. My little sister's tits or not, my hands struggled to stay at my sides and not reach out and touch the perky mounds that sagged not an inch on her chest. And those stickers, those fucking butterfly stickers... There was something so appealing about them - a childish and playful symbol that decorated my seductive and naughty little sister.

"You don't approve..." she said with a frown. Eunha must have caught me looking her up and down.

I used it as another excuse to gaze. Her tight tummy was streaked with paint like somebody had grabbed for her. I burned inside thinking it might have been some asshole in the crowd.

"What do you want me to say?" She had turned around now and was looking at the band while talking to me over her shoulder. Her cute butt was no less provoking; it sat proudly under a skirt that was too short to wear anywhere in my opinion.

She turned and her fingers grazed my face, just like the girl before had. I shivered at her touch; I wasn't supposed to like her doing that. "I dono..." she replied coyly. "Tell me I'm pretty at least..."

She turned again and bit her lower lip. GOD she was either a brilliant or totally natural seductress. I would tell her anything at that point.

But I still managed to hold back. "Well yea you're pretty..." I told her. I had to blink off the surging/tingling feeling of the alcohol as I tried to finish my thought. "...I just don't like all these guys staring at you."

I looked around. Maybe I was overreacting.

"Well now that my big brother is here, I think you can stop worrying." I felt her butt brush against me while she was dancing. She grabbed my arm and slung it around her. I could feel her naked front warm against my forearm.

"Shouldn't you be with some girl or something, not hanging with your little sister?" Eunha teased.

"Uh uh, now that I've found you, I'm not taking my eyes off you!" I replied quickly.

Eunha smiled and pressed her head against my shoulder, flattered. I hadn't meant it like that...

"That's not what I meant... I'm just saying..."

She turned away, seemingly pleased enough with the compliment I'd unintentionally paid her. I gave up, frustrated with her and simultaneously disarmed by her confidence.

"What about you Ms. butterflies?" She let out an incredulous 'uh!' like I'd somehow offended her by acknowledging it. "I'm surprised you haven't chosen one of your many admirers."

She was quick to respond too, "Well I'm with you aren't I?"

She looked me in the eye for a few seconds, and before I could say anything she turned back around. I would have argued, I should have, but it was true. She couldn't have known how I'd found her but I was guilty nonetheless. Eunha was by far the most interesting girl I'd come across the whole night, among thousands.

I couldn't keep my composure for too long either. I was still plenty drunk and so was she. After a minute or two of inner conflict and debating whether I should take Eunha home, leave her by herself or stay there with my scantily clad little sis, the music chose for me.

I really did love this band, and before I knew it I was dancing around just like before. This time, however, I was finally with a girl I actually wanted to be around. She was holding my arm, spinning around and I was enjoying watching her have a good time. Heck, I was having a great time myself, slowly forgetting to be careful with my hands... and my eyes with my newfound dance-partner.

I got somewhat lost in it all. Eunha was so gorgeous, and the music so entrancing... when I look back I remember my hands on her hips, running daringly up her side. I remember feeling her backside nudging against my front and the swelling it caused in my jeans. People were looking at us now and again, but nobody knew our secret. There was an attraction there that shouldn't have been, but it was ours and ours alone. I could dance with my little sister however I wanted, touch her wherever I wanted, and feel however I wanted. As long as she was by my side at this concert, nothing was forbidden.

Eunha stumbled once. I laughed at her and she feigned that she was upset. She even looked cute doing it. I worried for a moment that she might have been too drunk. Then she went back to dancing with me, leaning more heavily and being a little less inconspicuous about her affections. I felt her hands on mine. They guided me to her belly, where I could feel the feel the ridges of body-paint, the tautness of her skin, and even the dangly piercing that marked her belly-button.

She rolled her head back into me, with eyes mostly closed.

I had to act; I could have let this whole thing run its course and lead me wherever I was headed. But I knew where that would take me, and I was her older brother. I had a responsibility to Eunha and I was going to take care of her.

"It's time to go." I said, taking hold of her shoulders and saying into her ear.

"Mmmmh...okay." She said, standing up straighter and grinding her ass into me. I winced and breathed deeply.

Taking her hand I moved to our left. My car was somewhere parked out in the woods. We'd driven up close enough to hear the opener but off the beaten path to conceal the excessive drinking that usually took place before the concert. My friends wouldn't be coming back to the car, but I needed to take Eunha somewhere, if only to sleep it off.

I was determined as I began to weave through the crowd. I thought Eunha was going to just follow drunkenly along. She started to resist. 'What the heck!' I thought as I had to pull at her arm more firmly. I looked back and saw her brows furrowed and an angry glare.

I realized pretty quickly that my little sister had been acting a bit drunker than she actually was. Maybe she was using it as an excuse to be so carefree when we were dancing earlier. She hadn't resisted when we first left, but maybe she was expecting something else - not her brother chaperoning her to the car.

When we got clear of the densest part of the crowd I stopped and addressed my fuming little sister. What a sight she was: half-naked in denim and black and throwing a mini-tantrum. It was hard for me to stick to my purpose instead of acting on the urges I was feeling toward Eunha. I had to be the responsible one here, I didn't know just how much my little sister had to drink and how she was feeling about the way we were dancing earlier. I suspected she would have let it go further if I hadn't stopped.

"So...what..." Eunha said as she planted her feet and stared me down, "you're just gonna take me home and that's it?"

"No." I responded, "I was going to take you back to the truck and we can listen to the rest of the concert from there."

"Oh...okay." The corners of her mouth showed an embarrassed smile.

She took my hand, put it around her waist and walked, more amicably this time, side by side with me to the truck. It was getting a little colder now and I knew Eunha would be chilly, I could feel goosebumps on her bare skin. I pulled her tightly to me, my fingers pressing in to her warm, soft side.

When we finally got to my truck we were a ways from the crowd. The music still filled the empty woods around us and shafts of light penetrated the canopy of darkened treetops. It was an eerie place, made warm by the presence of Eunha at my side.

I hopped up into the truck bed and bent down to help my little sister up with me. Locking my hands under her arms I swiftly pulled her up and set her down in front of me. I couldn't avoid how close she came as her toes found the metal bed. I think she was impressed by the way I manhandled her, and I by the ease with which I could lift the tiny cutie. I don't care if she was my sister or not; feeling her youthful body slide into place pressed firmly to my front was enough to make my eyes roll back.

We stood there for a silent moment, neither of us knowing what to do next. Usually, with tension so thick I'd want nothing but to feel her lips on mine, but that wasn't an option. She nuzzled me, touching the tip of her nose to mine and breathing deeply. She was awaiting my next move.

After what felt like an eternity I reached down for the blankets in the storage locker, unfurling them and setting a few for us to lay on. I quickly positioned myself in the corner facing the concert to escape from our suggestive pose; Eunha followed and once again nuzzled under my arm.

My head swam with racing questions. Why were we acting like this? Why couldn't I just act the big brother and keep Eunha safe until she was sober enough to bring home? Why did every touch of her skin feel so electric?

It had to be the booze, or at least that's what I told myself despite the fact that it'd been an hour or two since my last drink. As soon as I settled in, threw a blanket over the two of us and felt my little sister snuggled up to me my worries began to melt away. The music, once again, captured me and the safety and warmth of our getaway was just what we both needed. A few people passed the truck but nobody close enough to notice us. It felt private, like we were all alone with nobody to bother us.

"I'm glad you found me," my little sister said, breaking the silence and staring up at me with her chin on my chest.

"I'm glad I found you too," I replied, "I don't know how much longer that pack of circling dogs would have left you alone."

Eunha giggled, "you think they saw something they liked?" She was clearly getting some enjoyment from goading me.

"More like they didn't see something... your clothes!"

Eunha laughed adorably and was clearly unphased this time by me calling out her outfit. In fact, she flipped the blanket off of us and opened up to me, causing her breasts to shake in place and her front to be utterly exposed to my view.

"You mean I'm not wearing enough?" she said, glancing down at herself and inviting me to do the same.

I couldn't NOT look. I set my eyes on her, seeing her perky breasts laying hardly any flatter and her athletic frame leading down to her bunched skirt. I had my eyes fixed upon her, but hers had found something else. She'd revealed her beautiful teenage body to me by flipping the blanket back, but she could see my lower half as well. And I was totally hot for her; there was no hiding the bulge in my shorts.

Eunha was clearly taken aback. As of yet I hadn't given her any direct indication that I was feeling lustful thoughts toward my little sister. And though she'd danced quite suggestively with me, we could still go home without feeling we needed to hide anything.

Yet my hardness had Eunha's mouth agape. Except it was not in disgust but rather something else. She knew what was going on in my head. I needed to be quick to act, to snub out the suggestion that I'd made unintentionally with my erection. But I was not in any position to think or act quickly. I didn't intend to... it was all too much and it was like Eunha was begging me to do something rash.

I planted my hand firmly under her breast, my thumb and forefinger plying the soft padded skin between them. Above sat the thin shroud of her butterfly and higher still a wide eyed and still open mouthed gaze from my little sister. She felt wonderful, and I finally had my hand on her teenage breast as I'd wanted to all night. I moved my fingers around, massaging her daringly.

Eunha's head rolled back a bit and she breathed in apprehensively. When I touched her more firmly next it elicited a soft "uhhh..." from her open mouth.

I kept moving my fingers in circles, handling her wonderful chest and marveling at the firmness of her unhindered breast. She let me continue long enough to build confidence. I took more of her in my hand and she sighed again, I could feel my little sister's hips begin to move involuntarily.

"Mmmmhh...Oppa" she cooed again. "We shouldn't... this is really naughty."

But her hips betrayed her words. They had found my leg and I could feel the heat from between hers as she urged herself against me. I explored her chest with my hand, moving it between her two breasts and up to her neck, then back to her other breast, feeling the butterfly sticker on my palm.

I wanted to feel more, so I pried at the edge of one sticker.

"Uhhhh Oppa... you can't," she protested, while continuing to gyrate on my leg.

I chose to listen to her body instead, and slowly peeled the wing of the butterfly backward. I watched her intently; she made no move to stop me. When I'd peeled enough to see the faintest denim of her small nipple she trembled with sensation. I pulled it off the rest of the way and saw in full what I'd been hoping for all night.

I intended to get to her other sticker but I immediately placed my hand on her breast and tested it gently. Her nipple must have been sensitive because she trembled once again.

I guess the heightened intensity of her further nakedness worked to my advantage because soon after, as my hand was sliding open-palmed over her taut stomach I felt hers moving slowly as well. First I felt it on my hip, then the soft spot of my pelvis, and then... as if it were her first time, her fingers lightly touched the bulge in my shorts.

It was my turn to groan. I had been tortured by Eunha's body all night and now she was finally moving to help relieve me. At first her hand dared not progress, resting enticingly over my hard cock with only layers of clothing between. But as I got more aggressive with my own hands and I helped pressure my knee back toward her grinding hips, my little sister found her confidence.

She wrapped as much of her hand around me as the fabric would allow and I gasped in response.

"Wowww," she whispered. It must have been bigger than she expected.

All the while, as my little sister was gaining the tenacity to take things further, I was already doing so myself. The sight of her exposed breast and my hand descending from it down her flat stomach was amazing enough, but my intentions to go lower had my heart pumping twice as hard.

My fingers reached the elastic waistband atop her denim skirt.

I could feel her breathing in and out, her abs tightening rhythmically.

We were both waiting for what I would do next. After a moment, I had waited long enough; I had to have more of my teenage sister.

I urged my fingertips between, feeling the soft skin and gentle curve of her hipbone as I did so. When I was just short of my target, Eunha's hand quickly found mine. Her palm came to rest atop mine, with the skirt between us.

Eunha's eyes looked up at me, full of desire and apprehension both. She bit at her lower lip before saying, "You should stop... unhhh... don't you think you should stop?"

She was probably right. If I didn't hold back now, things could go a lot further. I didn't know if my little sister was virgin but deep down I longed to find out. I wanted to have her in so many ways, to fuck her like she had been practically begging me all night. If the brother in me didn't intervene I might end up acting out every lust-filled vision I'd dreamt up while at Eunha's side all night, taking her in every position I'd longed to since I first caught glimpse of the beautiful cutie.

The decision was easy then. With Eunha's hand still firmly upon my member, and mine beneath her skirt as my eyes beheld her young, nearly-naked body, I threw caution to the wind. My fingers pressed down upon her mound and I watched as my little sister writhed in pleasure. Whether her protest was empty or not, the second my fingers pressured from outside her panties she was gone.

I rubbed in small circles where I could feel the precipice of her tiny opening. Even through the cloth of her bikini underwear I could feel that my little sis was wet for me. She lifted her hips when I didn't press hard enough. The hand that had been there to stop me now pushed my fingers more firmly against her.

Eunha's other hand fumbled around my shorts as she struggled to multi-task. Hard as it may have been for her to cope with her brother's attention to her aching sex, she eventually worked her hand inside my shorts.

Something clicked in me when she finally grasped me firmly, her hand on my bare cock. I was fully overcome with desire, love and lust for my little Eunha. Her pretty face looked focused upon returning the favor I was working on her pussy. Her eyes flitted to mine occasionally and then back to her hand as it worked up and down within my shorts. When our gazes met, there was no more worry or guilt, only the love and understanding of brother and sister with a clear lust for more.

She must have gotten frustrated by the obstacle of my shorts because moments later she hastily tugged the elastic band over the tent that had been formed there. My sizable penis sprang free to the open air and Eunha's longing eyes. They widened as she revealed what her hand already knew to be more than she had expected.

I took her brazenness as invitation, quickly dragging her skirt and panties both down to her knees. Eunha's face cast a second of shyness as I looked down, making sure the blanket hadn't covered my little sister's lower half as I disrobed her. She was totally bare, and from what I could tell her opening as small as I'd ever seen. If I intended to make love to her that night, she was likely to need a lot of time to adjust to my size.

Eunha continued her ministrations and explored all over me, gently grazing my head with her fingertips and testing the weight of my full balls with her hand. I touched down to my little sister's bare pussy for the first time as well. She quivered as I contacted her warmth. With two fingers I straddled her clit and stroked the full length of her young quim.

"Oooohh...fuuuuuck,.." Eunha mewed, "I can't believe we're doing this... feels so... ughhh... good."

I kept at her, rotating my fingers about her button and watching her squirm when I touched her just right. Seeing her back arch, abs ripple and her pretty breasts shift as I pleasured her, I nearly exploded. Eunha's hair was tussled over one eye; with my arm that was wrapped around her I pushed it back and rolled her toward me.

We kissed for the first time.

She tested my lips, pecking at them. I attempted to meet them more firmly but she teased me. I pulled her more tightly to me, yet still she withheld. I could sense her smile and then the breathy giggle that followed it, her breath tickling my chin.

I leaned in closer and caught her. Our lips touched firmly at last, and we both paused. We had already crossed many lines, but kissing my little sister felt equally as intimate, if not more. I pried my lips open a bit. Eunha did the same, pecking at me again. Then she pressed firmly to me, our noses intertwined and my hand left her wanton opening.

Within seconds our tongues were touching for the first time, lightly at first. But then it was more eagerly. I wanted to feel everything my little sister had to offer. Eunha sat up to get a better angle at which to kiss me but I had a bigger plans. I wanted Eunha atop me, in all her beauty, sitting in my lap and kissing me without inhibition.

I fumbled to remove my shorts the rest of the way and then Eunha's skirt. My efforts elicited a laugh from my little pink sis, but she was silenced as soon as I had my hands on her hips and pulled her atop me.

Her knees rested softly on the blanket beneath us.

Her hips had come to rest so that my erection was securely pinned beneath her bare pussy.

She looked down, with heightened awareness at the new contact we were making. I flexed my cock to make it all the more intense for her, for us both. Looking up, with one breast bare and the other still hidden beneath the remaining butterfly, I reached for it. Pausing a moment, as if I hadn't been fondling her other breast for the last ten minutes, I felt her soft skin and teased it.

Then I peeled the sticker off all in one motion. It didn't seem too painful but Eunha inhaled sharply all the same. Now she was totally naked to me. The reality aroused me: my little sister completely naked with her brother's cock actually touching her teenage pussy, But the sight spurred me to action. I urged my hands up her abdomen, holding her firmly and bringing them to her perfect breasts.

I relished the look on Eunha's face as she felt my hands upon her. I couldn't know exactly what was going on in her head but somehow I knew she was as willing a participant as I.

"God you are so beautiful Eunha," I told her, watching a big smile form on her face. She leaned down and kissed me with gratitude. I bet she looked wonderful from behind in her prone position.

After a few seconds she broke the kiss. "You are a good brother, Oppa. I love you so much."

"Somehow, I don't think Mom and Dad would agree," I said, glancing down between us were my erection was planted firmly between her tiny bare lips.

Eunha responded by thrusting her hips forward and backward along the length of my shaft. We both gasped in unison at the sensation. Our contact was near the real thing and at any moment one of us could have taken control and consummated the incestuous act we were building toward.

"Mom and Dad don't know how you protected me from all those creeps... ugh... " she moved back and forth again, "And they don't know how you tried to be good when I was being so naughty with my dancing. Oh fuck..." My little sister's words had made me involuntarily thrust my hips toward her, increasing the contact with her slit.

I had written off so much of Eunha's behavior tonight as drunkenness and now she was admitting to doing it on purpose. The tricky little tease; maybe all of those times her hand or butt had come in contact with my crotch in front of the stage weren't quite so accidental. I doubted it now.

I had one hand massaging her breasts, and another one forged a path between them and up to her neck. I half-encircled it gently and caressed her sensitive skin there.

"Oh Eunha," I said as she once again rolled her hips along my rod. "I want you so badly sis... you're driving me crazy." She obviously took that as an invitation to tease me more, lifting from my hips and letting my tip prod at her pussy. My baby sis pushed just softly enough that I was forbidden entrance before she lowered herself off again and I was rendered helpless.

"I don't want to take advantage... uhhh... " I said as she lifted up and directed my head to her pussy again. Watching me intently and capturing my gaze, she bore down on my tip enough that I held my breath and wondered what she'd do next. If I lifted my hips even an inch now my little sister would be as skewered on me as she was playing at.

She rolled her hips and my head again missed its mark. She was torturing me once more, and I was near taking control and teaching her a lesson. But Eunha had done it so she could lean in and kiss me. It's not that I didn't enjoy making out with the beautiful goddess, but I had been too close not to go further. As if she could read my mind, she removed her lips and hovered close to mine

"Oppa..." she assured me, "I want this."

With that I watched my teenage sister lift her hips from my lap and reach between us. She took hold of my cock and pointed it directly where we both wanted it. She lowered just enough to hold me in place before fixing her eyes upon mine.

All I could do was marvel, placing my hands on her hips lightly and giving my little sister complete control. I watched her, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, gazing down between us as she applied more weight. I could tell from the way her opening resisted me that she would be far tighter than I could have hoped.

"Ohh fuck bro... you're soo big... I gotta go slow."

I longed to be inside her, but I wanted Eunha to be as comfortable as possible. "It's okay sis, take your time."

She was plenty wet, her sliding back and forth already had my shaft glistening in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. Her dirty pink hair framed her face just so, her eyes were closed for the moment as she concentrated on lowering, torturously slowly. Her toned body held breath as she tried to continue.

I felt my head finally part her little pussy lips and wondered if she could feel me throbbing to be inside her.

And then there was resistance. Eunha's eyes were still closed so I could not search them for answer. I watched her bite her lip as she pushed past what was obviously an uncomfortable obstacle.

"Uhhhh...owwww..." she howled in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Eunha didn't open her eyes again until she had come to rest. My staff was fully immersed in my little sister and she was panting despite being completely still.

"Oh Eunha," I said, finding her eyes desperately upon mine. "Are you a virgin baby sis?"

She grinned, though her furrowed brow revealed she was still adjusting to having her big brother filling her so completely.

"Not anymore.." she quipped. Eunha was always clever; even, it seemed, when impaled on her brother's cock.

"I didn't... ughhh..." I could feel her pulsing from all the sensation being so full was causing her, "I didn't know Eunha..."

She moved to bring our faces together again. Even the slightest movement seemed to bring her more sensation to cope with and deep breaths by which to do so.

"It's okay Oppa..." she took another breath, "I wanted it to be you..."

I was enamored. My gorgeous sister had given me the most treasured gift she had to offer. Her wonderful personality, her perfect teenage body, and now her eighteen-year virginity was mine. My hands gripped her hips more tightly. We kissed, and simultaneously I helped Eunha lift her tiny pelvis up along the path my erection allowed.

She hummed against my lips. I could feel her tense as my head brushed over her broken hymen. When her entrance finally gave way to the ridges of my tip we broke our kiss. She let the head linger at her opening, threatening entrance at any second.

"Are you ready Eunha?" I asked her.

"Uh huh," she complied.

We both assisted in lowering her down, feeling me slide into my little sister and fill her so perfectly it was like I was meant to be there.

Eunha howled, "Oooooouuuww... fuck Oppa...slower..."

We both watched as inch after inch disappeared into her. I might have urged her faster if not for the marks her nails were leaving in my arms as she held on and took me deeper. Instead I just held her and savored every second that my little sister allowed me to be inside of her. As I watched her naked little body sink lower I remained amazed that I was truly making love to the younger sister I'd known and loved all my life.

Eunha had always been adorable. She'd been the youngest cheerleader when she started high school, she loved to drive boys crazy with whatever outfits our parents would let her get away with, and she had come into her pretty teenage body early on.

Her breasts had been the same size for years, often tucked visibly into the tight-fit clothing she wore. She always had the dimples and cute cheeks, though her blue eyes were equally distracting. Years of being active had sculpted her frame. As I looked at her now I saw that the little sister I'd watched grow up for years had a body to marvel at: thin at the waist with the hint of hipbones, a slender abdomen and the bulge of her ribcage before those mouth-watering teen breasts.

I reached around to grab Eunha's butt. It was firm like the rest of her but definitely something to hold on to. I did so as she continued her up and down movements on my cock.

"Fuckk... Oh God Oppa..." she called out,

"Eunha... ughh... you're so tight sis..." I didn't know how long I could last with my baby sis controlling the tempo and squeezing my shaft so securely.

"Ohmyyygod... I can't believe we're... mmmmhhhh..." she was upping the pace at which she lifted her hips and brought them down to meet mine. I could feel my tip prodding her deep inside, the very end of her tight channel soft against my tip. "I can't believe I'm fucking my brotherrrr...uhhhh"

My hands moved about. One gripped her hip tightly and started to urge her more roughly up and down. The other gripped her side and breast alternately, I wanted to feel as much of her tiny body as I could.

The music still droned in the background. Both of us had ceased hearing it long ago, listening only to each other's breathing and sounds of ecstasy. The lights flickered between the trees and the moon shone down on us from above. Not far off were thousands of people fixated on the loud music and dancing. I thought nothing of it, instead ensnared by my nude baby sister humping herself atop me.

I shifted, sitting upright with my back against the window to the cab. Eunha didn't miss a beat, pressing her breasts firmly against me and rocking her hips in our new position. She lowered herself fully onto me, with her clit pressed against my base. My little sister may have been a virgin, but she was quickly discovering all the ways sex could make her feel.

She rolled her hips around. Locked together my tip sought new ground inside of her and she writhed as it prodded her deep within.

She gasped aloud, "ohhhHHH... Fuuuck bro... It's so far in me..."

"I know Eunha, you feel amazing," I told her, "I don't know how much more I can take."

It was like that only encouraged her. "You can't come yet Oppa... uhhh..." she grabbed on to my neck and shoulder and started rocking her hips in a way no girl I'd been with before had ever done.

"I'm not wearing a c...shit Eunha slow down...I'm not wearing a condom!"

The feeling of my little sister urging my cock in and out of her was racing me toward release faster than I could control...

"Don't cum yet... just wait..." she pleaded.

She didn't slow down, I was afraid of what might happen if she kept it up. The little teenage troublemaker confirmed my fears.

"I'm not...ohhh..." she could feel my hands trying to slow her down, she pushed them from her... "I'm not on birth control ... you can't yet I'm really ... fuuuucking close."

My head was dazed, my hands didn't know what to do and my mind was torn trying to stop me cumming in my little sis and wondering what would happen if I did. It was then that Eunha nuzzled her head to mine and locked her hips again. She gasped in my ear and then called my name.

I was going to be able to hold out. Getting my little sister pregnant was less a concern now as was watching her have her first orgasm with a man, let alone me: her brother.

"Ooooooouuuhhhhh... Daaaaaaan..." she howled, shaking so much I had to hold her to make sure she wouldn't fall from my lap.

I withdrew from her what little distance I could with the quaking little girl in my arms and pushed back inside, thinking I would only add to her orgasm. It was a grievous mistake. My little sister cumming in my lap and the one last, pivotal thrust had built me too far.

When I felt her mound connect with me, I couldn't withhold the first jet of sperm that I sent as deep into my little sister's pussy as was possible. Nor could I stop the second, or the third. Eunha was so firmly planted with me inside and her body trembling from her electric climax that I couldn't have dreamed of removing her.

Nor did I want to. In a few fateful seconds I flooded my little Eunha with cum. She pushed at my chest early enough to lean back and look deep into my eyes while my tip was spurting its final, purposeful rope of semen into my little sister's fertile womb. If the time was right, there was no question that I'd filled Eunha with enough of her brother's cum to assure that we were both in a bit of trouble.

We looked down. The juncture between us was slick with our combined fluids. I could see the denim gleam of my cum attempting to work its way out. It had reached as deep within her as it could go and now sought another way out.

The evidence of our incest was unmistakable, and the look that we shared after we both saw it was fraught with wonder. What was Eunha thinking? She had to know what her brother had just done and what it meant; was she upset with me?

She answered with a kiss.

She leaned in and hugged me close. It felt reassuring having her pressed against me. It was even more comforting the passion with which we entwined our tongues and made out until Eunha backed off to speak.

"Sooo... you came inside me..." Her voice held no disappointment whatsoever.

"Yeah... I'm so sorry... I couldn't stop it, when you..." but she stilled my voice with a finger upon my lips.

"Uh uh," she denied me, "don't be sorry. I knew you might unless I stopped... but I didn't want to." She smiled mischievously. Her look was incredibly naughty, notwithstanding the fact that her tiny pussy was still dripping with her brother's cum and his cock still hard and lodged inside of her.

I was once again overcome with love for my little sister. She wasn't just the perky teen that I used to babysit. She was that, but she was now a hot little high schooler that had just given her virginity to her brother and done a fantastic job for her first time. It made her unspeakably naughty and desirable. She was my own personal eighteen year old sex-symbol, and I couldn't wait to see what trouble she would drum up next.

"It's just that I'm at... like... the best time to get pregnant right now, or at least that's what my schedule from SexEd says" she told me, biting her pointer finger like she had for years when she did something naughty.

"Oh..." was all I could say.

I was still so hard in Eunha's slick tunnel; the danger we were in did nothing to quell that. I'm quite certain that it only made matters worse, because I was already having thoughts that I wasn't done with my little sister for the night.

She looked down, "Oh my God, you came so much! I can feel it in me! It's really warm," her face showed an obviously faked look of concern, "what if you put a baby in your own baby sister?"

"What should we do?" I asked her, incredulous.

She looked deep in thought for a moment and then said, "I think you should fuck me again, just to be sure."

I must have heard her wrong. She must not have meant she wanted us to have unprotected sex again, right there in the truck bed. When she slowly pulled herself off of me I was certain that I'd just heard what I wanted to.

She got on all fours in front of me. There was cum trailing from her bald teen pussy, I ached to feel it wrapped around me again.

"Will you fuck me like this?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me. "Doggy right?" she looked excited to know the position.

I was paralyzed. The reality of everything... the fact that I had my little sister naked in the bed of my truck, that I'd just pumped her fertile pussy full of my sperm without birth control, and now... she wanted me to do it again?

"Come on brother! You already fucked me once, and you filled me up with all that sticky cum." She shook her behind at me, taunting me. "Don't you want to fuck me again Oppa?"

I cautiously moved forward, my erection wagged in front of me, revealing my mind to her.

"Pleaaase...?" she said with a whine.

Her whine turned to a whimper when I touched my tip to her entrance once more. I slid it up from a few inches below, bringing with it the spunk that had escaped. Looking my little sister in the eye and seeing her bite her lip in anticipation, I pushed my tip between her pussy lips and in one long stroke I sank back into her, aided by our own fluids.

Though she'd already taken my size minutes before, it was obvious that she still had to adjust to each stroke.

"Ouwww... fuck it's big... ouuuhhh... be gentle with me... ugh... Oppa," she said after I'd started to thrust into her rhythmically.

I slowed down, but as my hips met her butt I pushed hard and prodded the soft spot at her cervix. We both drew inward a deep breath when I did, and then Eunha whimpered again as I withdrew.

I grasped her as I thrusted, my thumbs each pushing into her cheeks and fingers wrapped firmly around her hips. My little sister was small enough that my hands almost entirely encircled her hips. The slick sound of me penetrating my sister was audible on the night air, and I realized that the music had finally stopped. The cries of my little sister were adorable yet I hoped they didn't draw too much attention.

"Fuck me Oppa... fuck your little sister!" She encouraged me. I'd hardly ever heard her swear. Though, with my hard cock buried inside Eunha, I knew I was learning a lot about the tiny pink-haired cutie tonight.

"Oh Eunha..." I called to her, "I love you little sis, unhhh... you feel so good... I'm so glad I found you tonight."

She reached back and grabbed my hand, then got up on her knees. I held her with my hand across her chest, palming her breast as she turned. "I love you too Oppa...ughh ... oh Fuck..." she yelped, our upright position had brought a new angle at which I was penetrating her. "I'm so happy you found me too..." she turned to kiss me. I kept urging my cock into her deeply "Jesus...fuck...I've wanted you to fuck me...uhhh for a long time," she whispered.

I was surprised. I'd thought of my little sister many times before, even imagined her when I was with other girls. She was so adorable and her tight little body had been torturing me for many years, but I wrote it off as me being a typical horny young guy. I didn't think Eunha had similar feelings.

She seemed to read the surprise on my face. "Uh huh," she affirmed, "yeah I've thought about you a lot... mmmnhh uhhhh..." she tried hard to push her ass back toward me was I met it with the slapping sound of my own thrusts.

"Remember when we went camping...ughhhh owww... with Mom and Dad?" She was having trouble talking through panting fits, but she seemed to be aroused telling me, "You kept waking up spooning me?" she asked.

"Uuuuhhh keep fucking me," she demanded as I paused, remembering the weekend.

"You had a stiffy the whole time..." I remembered, those two nights were torture and I felt so guilty wondering if my little sis had felt my hardness against her each time.

"I remember Eunha..." I put my hand around her neck, holding it daringly but gently there.

"I did that on purpose...ooohh oooh fuck..." she gasped as I impaled her harder. "I kept hoping you'd just give in and fuck me... just like you are... uhh... right... now."

My head was spinning. My little sister was blowing my mind and taking every inch of my cock at the same time. I was like an animal as I pulled out from her and quickly turned her to sit on the tool chest. She was so light and our lovemaking so aligned that we barely missed a beat.

Looking at her, seated atop the metal box and with her arms and legs around me, I pointed my cock without touching it and entered her again. I was watching her face intently. Her mouth opened. She cooed as I shoved into her again. She spasmed as I bottomed out.

"Fuuuck Oppa..." she complained, "it feels bigger like this."

I didn't stop. I withdrew and then sank home again. Eunha jerked forward as I prodded her deeply. I could have slowed down but I was so mad with lust that I didn't desire to in the slightest. I just kept pulling out of my little sister and driving into her, taking her completely.

"Oppa... uhhh I can't take it... wait... ohhh God..."

She was too weak to hold me off and I knew that if I kept fucking her I'd send her into another orgasm. I thrust again and again. Eunha's abdomen flexed. The soft flesh between her hips mounded to accept my cock into her. I grasped my little sister's hips and held her tight as I impaled her and made her mine.

When it had built enough, Eunha's climax seemed to deny her the ability to control her movements. Her hands fumbled at my chest and hips. Her legs tightly clutched around at my backside and her head rolled to the side. I felt her quim grip me and then she was cumming hard. Fluid coated our union and my little sister screamed out.

Some hundred feet away a group of concert goers must have heard her. They were walking back to their car like me and could probably see the two of us making love in the bed of my truck. My little sister was trying to contain herself but when I didn't stop pushing inside of her over and over she could do little to quiet her moaning.

The spectators would see the tiny pink-haired girl writhing and calling out through a voracious orgasm. They'd see a man, quite a bit larger than her, obviously driving her to such action with strong thrusts. Only we would know the truth, and having onlookers didn't stand a chance of stopping me from finishing off my little sis.

I did slow down so she could catch her breath. She looked at me, almost frustrated. "Oh my God..." she said, still trying to inhale and exhale deeply. She watched me, and quickly sensed by the very slow in and out movement of my hips that I wasn't finished.

"Aww, do you wanna cum Oppa?" she said, sounding like she was taunting me. "Do you wanna cum inside your little sister again?"

I did, desperately. I resumed my urgency.

"But you could get me pregnant Oppa..." she warned. "Are you gonna shoot your sticky cum inside your naughty little sister again...uhhh...even thou...oh fuck... even though I'm not on birth control?"

Her legs were pulling at me. One of her hands had my neck and the other found my balls, gently massaging them.

"But Oppa...oooOOO" she whined, "I'm only eighteen!...Ohfuckyourbig..." she cried as I buried my cock into her tight pussy roughly. "You shouldn't fill up your little sister...uhhh...with your... hot...sticky... cum "

I was close, and Eunha's words had brought me there. I'd never heard her swear before, let alone talk dirty with her brother's cock disappearing in and out of her as she practically begged for it.

"I'm gonna...ohhh... Eunha..."

I held onto her and let my lust do the rest. Her tiny frame writhed and accepted me, her teenage breasts shaking with each thrust.

"It's okay baby..." she told me, "cum for me big brother...ohhhh... cum in my little pussy... cum inside your little sister... get me ...FUCKKK... get me pregnant... I want it."

That was it, Eunha's tiny body, her hand massaging my balls, and her teasing words had brought me to my knees. I erupted into her.

It didn't seem possible, but nonetheless it felt like more than the first time. As I released rope after rope of forbidden semen into my little sister, I buried myself as deeply into her as I could. It jetted perfectly at the entrance to her womb. I coated her insides for the second time that night. And when I had all but filled my baby sis with everything I had, she trembled into a short but rewarding orgasm of her own. I could only move an inch or so within her without stimulating my own hypersensitive tip, but when I did I could feel a few last pumps of my cum added into little Eunha as she quivered through her own climax.

I held her close to me until I felt her pleasure subside. I picked her up and lay us down in the corner of the truck bed with the blankets around us. We were too hot to lay beneath one just yet but I made sure to keep Eunha warm as we lay there together.

Eunha spoke first.

"That was..." she seemed short of words, "the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I smiled at her affection. She snuggled close.

"You were perfect little sis. You ARE perfect."

She had the biggest grin on her face from my compliment. I loved seeing her so satisfied.

My hard member had not yet left her. If I wasn't so exhausted from, first the concert, and then the most amorous and sapping lovemaking I'd probably ever experience, I would have fucked my little sister again. I think she felt the same. She was totally limp in my arms, but we were both content to remain locked together at the hips with brother's cock within his own little sister.

"Now you came inside me twice!" she stated, "I can't believe how it feels, there's so much in me!"

She was right. Both times I had unloaded more into my little sister than I thought possible. I made a motion to slide my cock, finally, from inside of my teenage sister. Eunha stopped me.

"No...mnnnhhh... I want to keep it in me, just stay there a while." she instructed.

I obeyed, wincing as I returned the inch I'd pulled out of her tunnel. Both Eunha and I felt certain that she would be pregnant; there was no harm in letting my spunk warm her a while longer.

We simply remained there, quiet but for the sound of crickets and the distant voices of men disassembling the stage. Somewhere my friends were probably wondering where I was. The guys I had arrived with were probably still trying to get with one of the girls they'd brought or met at the concert. None of them would know, and I could never tell what had happened after I'd taken off toward the girl with butterfly.

I looked down at her, remembering how badly I'd wanted exactly this as I saw her across the crowd. But it was better than I had ever imagined. I had just made love to the most beautiful girl at the concert, and the most wonderful girl I'd always known.

"I love you bro," she said to me after a few moments.

"I love you too sis."

"You were better than I ever dreamed." she insisted, "I hope you aren't done with me now?" Her face had that puppy-dog look she always used on my dad. I loved it, but it wasn't necessary.

"No way Eunha," I promised, "I'm your brother, and I'll never be 'done' with you."

"Good," replied my little sister, "because I want you to fuck me and fill me up like you did everywhere we go... "

"Sure little sis," I laughed.

"In your truck...on my bed... at my school... in mom and dad's bed..." she prattled on. I caressed her abs and breasts lovingly as she spoke. When she mentioned our parents we both paused.

"What'll we tell Mom and Dad?" she asked.

"Nothing, obviously!" I responded without hesitation.

"No, silly, what will we tell them when I'm pregnant with my big brother's baby?" as if it was assured.

"We don't know that yet Eunha."

"Well if you didn't just get me pregnant, Oppa, you will soon," she said, matter-of-factly. Somehow, I loved the thought. My baby sister Eunha, walking around in public with the bump of her big brother's child...

I made love to my little sister again that night, hours later after we'd snuggled up in the cab of the truck and fallen asleep. I awoke to her spooning with me like she had that night long ago when we were camping. This time, my cock found the right place: inside my cute, eighteen-year-old, unprotected and willing little sister Eunha. It found there over and over again until I came inside her without a care in the world but to have Eunha in my arms.

Months later, the story could change if we kept up the way we were. But for now, both my little sister and I were glad that we'd gone to the same concert.

#gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #gfriend #viviz #eunha #smut #kpop #viviz eunha #gfriend eunha

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whytheylosttheirminds · 13 hours ago

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isn't she lovely?

your ex-boyfriend, crimeboss!Rafe wanted nothing to do with the daughter you'd made together, until he held her for the first time...

blurb, wc 626

content: pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of dark past, angst

ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

You didn’t want to tell him.

You thought of every reason not to - the con side of your pro/con list filling an entire notebook. The one and only pro of telling him was this: if you didn’t tell him, and he somehow found out anyway, he’d make your life hell.

At least if he knew, you knew that he knew. So against the better judgement screaming in your head, you went to Tannyhill one day, sat on his bed and pulled out the positive pregnancy test.

That was nine months ago, and aside from a note from his sleezy lawyer making it clear that Rafe was not going to be held financially responsible, you hadn’t heard anything from the father of your child. You had a friend who worked at the airstrip who kept you informed of his coming and going, and you always wondered if one day that private jet would take off with him in it and never return. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope it’d do just that.

According to your friend, he was in Bangkok the night you went into labor. After fourteen hours of the deepest, lonliest pain you had ever experienced, the doctor placed your screaming baby girl on your chest. You cried with her, shushing her, promising her it’s just you and me, kid. We’re gonna be okay.

No text from your friend usually meant the Cameron jet hadn’t returned yet, but you still insisted on keeping your baby girl in the hospital room with you instead of letting them take her to the nursery. Rafe Cameron was the most unpredictable person you ever met, and though he never let you know exactly what it was he did, you knew he was dangerous. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted. You weren’t letting your baby girl out of your sight.

It took every ounce of strength you had to fight off sleep, despite the nurse’s insistence that you needed to rest. She couldn’t possibly understand, you hadn’t had a moment of peace since that man entered your life, and you probably never would again.

It was just five minutes, you were only going to close your eyes for five minutes. But when you woke an hour later, the silhouette of a man towering in the corner of the room made you shoot straight up in terror. You were about to scream, but before you could, he turned quickly towards you with his finger to his lip, revealing your sleeping daughter in his arms.

“Rafe,” you whispered, petrified. “I didn’t think you were…I mean I would’ve…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered back, gently sitting in the chair next to your bed, careful not to stir the tiny infant in his arms. “You can go back to sleep, I’ve got her.”

Just as you were about to protest, your daughter stirred, squawking as though she was about to cry. Instead, her little hand reached out of her swaddle and wrapped around Rafe’s forefinger. You waited with baited breath to see how he’d respond.

For just a moment, his eyes widened, and his large broad shoulders softened, and the corner of his lips twitched ever-so-slightly. And then suddenly he was handing her to you, standing abruptly from his chair. She wailed as he stormed toward the door.

“That’s it?” You called to him over her cries, confused at the sudden shift in his mannerisms.

“I have to take care of some…things,” he turned to look at his daughter in your arms, her little fingers reaching for something to hold onto. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment that your daughter, whom you’d gotten to hold for only a handful of hours, became his.

ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

a/n: just a little drabble I wrote over a year ago when I was trying to get my footing as a fic writer. part of my one year cele!

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron x Reader #Rafe Cameron x you #Rafe Cameron angst #Rafe Cameron fic #Rafe Cameron fanfic #angst #fic #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe imagine #Rafe Cameron blurb

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ssentimentals · 20 hours ago

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Hi love! Was hoping to request again for Wonwoo x reader prompt 22:Truth or dare/party games. Where Wonwoo got dared to kiss reader and it cements to himself that he has feelings for her.

Sorry, i saw the news of Wonwoo's enlistment and wanted to request, hope its okay! 💔😢

hello again sweets! ah yes, those news really have their own impact on all of us :/ so i'll happily write some fluff!

prompt: truth or dare/party games

wonwoo doesn't like to admit that he has a soft spot for you, but he does. he does, because the only reason he's sitting here now and playing in this stupid game is you. when you looked at him with your pretty eyes and mumbled 'woo, pleaaase, let's play!' he really couldn't say 'no'. it means something - his soft spot for you, his inability to say 'no'. wonwoo knows it means something. he's just not sure that he's ready to find out.

'your turn!' dino squeaks, bumping their shoulders together. 'pick.'

wonwoo glances at the cards wearily and sighs. he just knows that four stacks fo carsd are lying in front of him and each has something written on it, a question or an action. wonwoo hopes it's a question, but of course he's not that lucky - it's an action. kiss someone you like the most from the players is written neatly on it and wonwoo holds it close, so no one can see it. everyone of course try to snatch it from him or take a peak, but he presses the card firmly to his chest, looking down. he can say 'pass' and lose. he can lie about what's written and do something else. or. or-

'what's there, woo?' you ask curiously, leaning a bit closer to him.

or. or he can do exactly what's written there and kiss you. because it's obviously you who he likes out of everyone who is playing now, out of everyone in this house, in this whole university. at least wonwoo thinks he likes you. he supposes he likes you, because you are not just a friend for him. he has other female friends, but with them he doesn't notice tiny things the way he does with you. with you wonwoo can't help but notice everything: how you scrunch your nose when your coffee is too hot, how you pick your nails when you're overthinking, how you always go for cherry scented anything from hand cremes to candles because it's your favorite scent. he knows all of it means something-

'wonwoo,' you call, pouting. 'what is it?'

there's only one to know, right? he leans closer to you, pocketing his card. 'it says that i should kiss someone i like.'

your eyes widen a little. your lips form an 'o' shape and this up close they smell like cherry. wonwoo gulps. bravery is usually not his strong forte, but some exceptions need to be made in order to get to the truth. he leans closer and understanding dawns on you as you blush intensely. 'going to kiss you,' wonwoo announces.

he gives you time to say 'no'. he gives you time to stand up or move away. but you don't and he hesitantly presses his lips against yours. it's just a press at first. your lips are soft and sticky with lipstick and wonwoo thinks he shouldn't like it as much as he does. then your lips part and he's just a weak man - he dives in. and yeah, he definitely does like you, because his heart is about to jump out of his chest from how good it feels to kiss you. to kiss you properly, with tongue, to meet you halfway, to swallow tiny sounds that you make. wonwoo thinks he can easily get addicted to this. when he leans back, he finally hears all the whistling and cheers, but he doesn't care; you look at him like his next words might shatter your world and he's not about to do that. he will never do that to you, ever. 'so,' he mutters, wetting his lips. 'i kissed someone i like.'

you blink, biting your lower lip. 'you sure?'

wonwoo nods. 'very sure,' he affirms, caressing your knee. 'hope you also kissed someone you like.'

that earns him a chuckle and a light push. you shake your head, smiling. 'yeah, reckon i did.'

wonwoo knew it all supposed to mean something. he now knows it does.

a/n: wonwoo feels to the max :( hope you liked this one, let me know! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

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seitmai · 16 hours ago

Text

Many thoughts

The way his jaw tensed, the way his biceps flexed beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the way the veins in his forearms stood out when he gripped the pool cue. You knew better than to stare, but the dim lighting and the amber of your drink made for good camouflage.

It would be rude not to look at his beautiful forearms imo🤷🏻‍♀️

"Match made in heaven," Fanboy teased, nudging you with his elbow. You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. It was true, in a way. You and Hangman worked well together, your sharp instincts and calculated precision balancing out his reckless confidence. In the air, you made each other better. On the ground, though? That was different.

Well a Match made in heaven, sometimes is made just for the sky not the ground

Your lips twitched, but you hid your smile behind your drink, letting the glass linger against your lips. Bradley's eyes flicked toward you, quick but sharp, and for a second, you thought—no, you knew—he caught you watching. The corner of his mouth lifted, subtle, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

👀

The moment passed, the conversation shifting, the music playing on. But as you turned back to your drink, your heart was still hammering against your ribs. Because if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that Hangman never said anything without a reason.

Oh he sure doesn’t

Bob was still half-listening to Fanboy, nodding along as his fingers drummed against the side of his glass, but you could feel his attention flicking back to you every so often. He wasn’t obvious about it—not like Hangman, who would’ve just called you out in front of everyone—but Bob noticed things. Always had. It was part of what made him such a damn good WSO.

Of course be does

Bob didn’t press, just hummed in acknowledgment, but you caught the way his eyes lingered as you turned away. If anyone was gonna figure you out first, it would be him. You just had to make sure you didn’t give him anything more to work with.

100% it would be him (& Phoenix probably lol)

"What’s your poison tonight?" You should’ve just answered him. Should’ve just kept it casual, like you did with everyone else. But the way he was looking at you—the lazy tilt of his smile, the barely-there rasp in his voice—it made you want to push back just a little. "Why?" you asked, tilting your head. "Gonna buy me one?" Something flickered in his expression, brief but unmistakable, before he leaned in just slightly, enough that his voice was low when he murmured, "That depends." Your fingers tightened around the glass, pulse kicking up. "On?" Bradley let the silence stretch, like he was giving you time to think about it, about him, before finally smirking again. "On whether or not you’ll actually drink it… or just use it to hide behind."

Oh 👀

"You wish, Bradshaw." But even as you said it, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince—him or yourself.

Fair 🤭

He grinned, eyes still on you as he took another slow sip—deliberate, careful, like he was daring you to look away. And maybe that was your first mistake.

Was it a mistake though? 🤔

Your back hit the wall. You hadn’t even realized you’d been inching away, hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten until there was nowhere else to go. But even now, even with the way his voice curled around your name, warm and teasing and just a little too soft, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t have to.Because the way he was looking at you—the way he always looked at you—was more than enough.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Rooster’s hands flexed at his sides, like he was physically holding himself back. Like if he didn’t, he’d reach for you without thinking. His jaw tightened, his breath uneven, and for the first time all night, he didn’t have a smirk, didn’t have a teasing remark locked and loaded.

It's taking all in him to not reach out 🫣

"Tell me no," he murmured, voice rough, low, almost desperate. "Tell me to back off, and I will." You should have. You knew you should have. But you didn’t.

Can't blame that decision 🤷🏻‍♀️

Your breath caught, your pulse hammering in your ears. Because he wasn’t just asking. He was begging. Begging for permission, for just a sign that he wasn’t crazy, that whatever this was—whatever had been burning between you for months—wasn’t just in his head. And God help you, you wanted to give it to him.

I love a begging man 😮‍💨

His lips parted at the sound of his name, something flickering in his expression—hope, relief, hunger, you weren’t sure. But his hands stayed at his sides, fists clenching, because he was waiting. He was waiting for you. "Tell me yes," he whispered. "Just once."

Easiest yes

The word barely left your lips before Bradley moved. Not rushed, not reckless, but like he’d been holding himself back for so damn long that the second you gave him permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His hands finally found you, one pressing firm and warm against your waist, the other cradling your jaw, fingers skimming your skin like he needed to memorize the way you felt beneath his touch.

🥰🥰🥰

You fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groaned—deep, low, the kind of sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His grip on your waist tightened, his body pressing flush against yours as he kissed you harder, deeper, like he needed to prove something. Like he needed you to feel how long he’d been waiting for this. "Tell me I’m not crazy," he whispered. "Tell me you want this too."

He is such a lover boy 😍

Bradley kissed you like he was starving, like he’d been waiting years for this moment and now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go. His hands gripped your waist, your jaw, like he needed to feel you everywhere at once, like he was trying to make up for all the times he’d held back.

Urgh this is so hot

But then—between kisses, between the ragged breaths you barely had time to take—he murmured against your mouth, "Why’d you join the Navy?" You smirked, tilting your chin just slightly, your hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. "I like dressing like the man." Rooster froze for half a second, his brows lifting slightly—then he let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his forehead dropping against yours. "God, I knew I liked you," he murmured, voice husky, and before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours again, deeper, hungrier, like your answer had just sealed something in him.

Extremely random but oh well 😂

And then he was kissing you again, harder this time, like he was proving a point, like he was making damn sure you’d never forget it because to you, he is the man.

Yeah about that, let's have discussion about that in the bedroom later on 🤭

The man's job

At The Hard Deck, Sniper—Hangman’s sharp-tongued WSO—tries to ignore her growing attraction to Rooster, but he sees right through her. After a heated exchange, Rooster pulls her into a quiet hallway, desperate for the truth, and when she finally gives in, he kisses her like he’s been waiting forever. Between breathless kisses, he asks why she joined the Navy, and when she teasingly admits it’s because she likes dressing like the men, he grins against her lips and murmurs, "I do too."

Warning: This story contains intense romantic tension, heated moments, and Rooster being utterly irresistible. Proceed with caution—you might fall for him all over again when he loses his cool.

4k words

Just saying English isn't my first language and this is crap because I got bored and wrote yap

The Hard Deck was alive with laughter, the low hum of conversation mingling with the distant crash of the waves. The scent of salt and spilled beer hung in the air, the jukebox spitting out a country song that had more than one pilot tapping their fingers against the worn wood of the bar.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin leaned against the pool table, a cocky grin playing at his lips as he chalked his cue. His gaze was locked onto Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You wanna try that again, Rooster?" Hangman drawled, voice as smooth as whiskey. "Because I could've sworn you said I got lucky on that last shot."

Rooster scoffed, arms crossed over his broad chest, aviators still hooked onto the collar of his Hawaiian shirt. "You heard me just fine, Bagman. One lucky shot doesn’t make you the best."

Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass in your hand as you took a slow sip of your drink, the cool condensation slick against your skin. From your seat, you watched the exchange unfold, feigning indifference behind the rim of your glass. But your eyes weren’t on Hangman—not really.

They were on Rooster.

Beside you, Bob and Fanboy were deep in conversation, their voices threading through the noise of the bar.

"I’m just saying," Bob mused, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "a good WSO doesn’t just read the pilot—they anticipate them."

Fanboy nodded, ever the calm voice of reason. "It’s about trust. You can be the best at reading radar, but if your pilot doesn’t trust you to have their six, you’re dead in the air."

You hummed in agreement, setting your glass down with a soft clink. "It’s instinct. That’s why some pairings work better than others. Right, Bob?"

Bob smirked knowingly, glancing over at Hangman, who was now leaning dangerously close to Rooster, both men locked in a silent battle of egos. "Yeah, like you and Seresin," he said. "You two just… click."

"Match made in heaven," Fanboy teased, nudging you with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. It was true, in a way. You and Hangman worked well together, your sharp instincts and calculated precision balancing out his reckless confidence. In the air, you made each other better. On the ground, though?

That was different.

"Hey, Snipes!" Hangman’s voice cut through the conversation as he straightened, smirking at you. "Tell Rooster here that he should quit embarrassing himself and rack ‘em up for a rematch."

You raised an eyebrow, the weight of Rooster’s gaze settling on you before you even turned to meet it.

"Don’t look at me," you said smoothly. "I just work here."

Laughter rippled through the group as Rooster smirked, shaking his head before taking a long sip of his beer. The golden liquid caught the light, and for just a second, you let yourself look—really look—before turning back to your drink.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the bar, swirling the remnants of your drink in the glass as Bob and Fanboy continued talking shop beside you. Their conversation faded into the background, your focus slipping as Rooster set his pool cue down and stretched, arms lifting high above his head before settling back down, fingers tapping absently against the side of his beer bottle. The stretch pulled his shirt tight across his chest, and you forced your gaze away, taking a slow sip of your drink to cover the way your pulse kicked up.

"You good?" Bob’s voice cut through your thoughts, quiet but pointed. His pale blue eyes studied you with the kind of sharpness that made you wonder just how much he noticed.

"Yeah," you said quickly, setting your glass down. "Just tired."

Bob hummed in a way that said he didn’t quite believe you, but he let it go, turning back to Fanboy, who was now deep in some exaggerated retelling of a training exercise. You took the out, shifting your attention back to the room, where Hangman had just stepped closer to Rooster, that ever-present smirk still in place.

"Come on, Rooster," Jake drawled, resting his pool cue against the table. "You gonna admit I got you, or do you wanna lose again?"

Bradley scoffed, shaking his head. "Man, I swear, you could fall into the ocean and still find a way to be cocky about it."

"Damn right," Jake shot back, tipping his beer up for a slow sip.

Heat licked up the back of your neck, but before you could react, Jake clapped a hand on Bradley’s shoulder with a grin. "Come on, Bradshaw, let’s go again. Unless you’re too busy staring at Sniper over here."

Your stomach dropped.

Bradley’s jaw tightened just slightly, his fingers flexing around the bottle in his hand. But if he was caught off guard, he didn’t show it for long. Instead, he just smirked, slow and easy, before turning back to the table.

"You wish, Seresin," he muttered, racking up the balls.

And now, thanks to him, you weren’t the only one noticing where your attention kept slipping.

You exhaled, forcing your shoulders to relax as you pushed your empty glass toward the edge of the bar. "I’m gonna grab another drink," you said, keeping your voice even, casual.

Bob’s gaze lifted from his own glass, studying you for half a second before he nodded. "You want company?"

You shook your head, already sliding off the barstool. "I’m good. Be right back."

You wove through the crowd, dodging a pair of aviators deep in some animated debate over dart scores, before finally making it to the bar. Penny was a few customers down, pouring a round of shots, so you leaned against the wood, letting your fingers trail along the smooth, worn surface as you waited.

It wasn’t until you felt a presence beside you that you glanced up—and immediately regretted it.

Bradley.

He was close. Not enough to be improper, but enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne beneath the salt air, enough that you could see the way the dim bar lights caught on the gold in his hair.

"You hiding over here, Snipes?" His voice was easy, teasing, but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer.

You rolled your eyes, willing your pulse to slow. "Just getting another drink, Bradshaw."

He smirked, leaning against the bar beside you, his fingers tapping absently against the wood. "That so?"

You didn’t answer immediately, but you didn’t have to. Because the way his eyes stayed on you—the way they held just a little too much knowing—told you he wasn’t buying it.

Penny slid a beer across the bar toward Rooster without him even needing to ask, a silent acknowledgment that he was a regular here. He caught it easily, fingers wrapping around the bottle as he turned back to you, his smirk still in place but softer now, more amused than cocky.

"You always this jumpy, Snipes?" His voice was low, meant just for you, the rough edge of it curling around your name in a way that sent heat flickering down your spine.

You scoffed, shifting your weight against the bar. "I’m not jumpy."

"Mm." He took a slow sip of his beer, eyes not leaving yours over the rim of the bottle. When he lowered it, he let his elbow rest against the counter, his body angled just slightly toward you. "You sure about that?"

Your brows lifted, feigning disinterest. "You always this nosy, Bradshaw?"

His grin widened, like he knew exactly what you were doing. "Only when it’s interesting." He let the words hang in the space between you, light but deliberate, before nodding toward your empty glass. "What’s your poison tonight?"

You should’ve just answered him. Should’ve just kept it casual, like you did with everyone else. But the way he was looking at you—the lazy tilt of his smile, the barely-there rasp in his voice—it made you want to push back just a little.

"Why?" you asked, tilting your head. "Gonna buy me one?"

Something flickered in his expression, brief but unmistakable, before he leaned in just slightly, enough that his voice was low when he murmured, "That depends."

Your fingers tightened around the glass, pulse kicking up. "On?"

Bradley let the silence stretch, like he was giving you time to think about it, about him, before finally smirking again. "On whether or not you’ll actually drink it… or just use it to hide behind."

Your breath hitched, but before you could come up with a response, Penny stepped up to take your order, cutting through the moment. Bradley didn’t move, didn’t look away—just waited, watching, like he already knew he’d gotten to you.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away from Rooster’s knowing gaze as you turned to Penny. "Whiskey, neat."

If she noticed anything in your voice, she didn’t comment on it, just nodded and reached for a bottle. But Bradley? He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound warm and teasing as he took another sip of his beer.

"Didn’t peg you for a whiskey drinker," he mused, tilting his head.

You shot him a look. "And what exactly did you peg me for?"

He let his gaze flick over you, slow and measured, before shrugging. "Something smoother. Less burn."

You smirked, rolling your empty glass between your fingers. "Maybe I like the burn."

Bradley’s smile didn’t falter, but something in his expression shifted, the teasing edge softening just slightly. "Yeah," he murmured, voice quieter now. "Maybe you do."

Penny slid your drink across the bar, and you grabbed it quickly, grateful for something to do with your hands. But when you turned back, Bradley was still watching you, eyes dark with something unreadable, something you weren’t sure you were ready to decipher.

"Careful, Sniper," he murmured, tipping his bottle toward you before taking a sip. "Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you like me."

Your stomach flipped, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you lifted your glass, letting the whiskey slide down smooth and slow before setting it back on the bar with a soft clink. Then, with your best smirk, you leaned in just a fraction, just enough for your voice to dip between you both.

"You wish, Bradshaw."

But even as you said it, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince—him or yourself.

Rooster was still smirking when he took another sip of his beer, but when he lowered the bottle, you caught it—just the smallest trace of foam clinging to the edge of his moustache. It was barely noticeable, but once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it.

Without thinking, you reached up, the tips of your fingers grazing his jaw as you swiped your thumb along the corner of his mouth. "You had a little—"

The words caught in your throat the second his breath hitched, his entire body going still under your touch. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, the slight stubble along his jaw rough against the pad of your thumb. You should’ve pulled away the second you fixed it, should’ve stepped back before the moment stretched too long, before the air between you shifted into something heavier.

But you didn’t.

Bradley didn’t move either, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. Slowly, so slowly, his lips quirked, and you felt it—the way they just barely brushed against your thumb before you finally dropped your hand.

"Thanks, Sniper," he murmured, voice lower than before, rougher.

You swallowed, gripping your glass a little tighter as you forced yourself to scoff, to play it off. "Try drinking like an adult next time, Bradshaw."

He grinned, eyes still on you as he took another slow sip—deliberate, careful, like he was daring you to look away.

But you didn’t.

And maybe that was your first mistake.

You should have walked away. Should have taken your drink and gone back to Bob and Fanboy, slipped back into easy conversation about WSOs and manoeuvring and anything that didn’t involve the way Rooster was looking at you.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed put, fingers curling around your whiskey glass, pulse thrumming beneath your skin as Bradley studied you with that lazy, knowing smirk. The worst part? He wasn’t even trying. He wasn’t laying it on thick like Jake would, wasn’t feeding you some line just to see if you’d take the bait. He was just… there. And for some reason, that made it harder to shake.

"You always this handsy, Snipes?" His voice was smooth, laced with amusement, but there was something else beneath it. Something quieter.

You scoffed, finally forcing yourself to take a step back, putting distance between you both. "Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw."

He hummed, tipping his beer toward you in mock salute. "Too late."

You rolled your eyes, turning toward the crowd, desperate to pull the focus away from whatever the hell this was. The Hard Deck was still alive with energy, the Dagger Squad scattered around the bar. Hangman was now leaning against the jukebox, arguing with Coyote about song choices. Payback and Fanboy were deep in conversation, likely rehashing old stories from training. Phoenix was at the dartboard, eyes locked in concentration as she lined up a shot.

Safe distractions.

"I should get back," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

But before you could step away, Bradley's voice was there again, softer now. "You ever gonna let me catch up to you, Snipes?"

You hesitated, fingers tightening around your drink. The question wasn’t loaded, not on the surface. But something about the way he said it made you pause, made you consider the weight behind it.

Slowly, you turned back to him, arching a brow. "What makes you think you’re behind?"

Bradley smirked, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Call it a gut feeling."

You held his gaze for a beat longer than you should have, something unspoken lingering in the space between you. Then, with a small shake of your head, you turned on your heel, slipping back into the crowd before he could say anything else.

But even as you walked away, you felt it—the heat of his gaze still following you, like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go just yet.

You barely made it three steps before you felt it—fingers curling around your wrist, firm but careful, like he wasn’t trying to stop you, just… slow you down.

"Hang on," Rooster murmured, his grip warm against your skin.

Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t stop him, didn’t shake him off. He didn’t give you the chance to. With a gentle but insistent tug, he steered you through the crowd, slipping easily between groups of aviators and locals like he’d done it a hundred times before.

You knew where he was leading you before you even saw it.

The narrow hallway just past the bar—the one that led to the bathrooms, the back exit, the only quiet place in the Hard Deck that didn’t involve sneaking behind the counter with Penny’s disapproving glare burning into the back of your head.

The second you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, away from the noise, away from the others, Bradley let go of your wrist. But he didn’t step back. If anything, he was still too close, the faint scent of his cologne and the salt air clinging to his skin.

You crossed your arms, forcing yourself to level him with a look even as your pulse betrayed you. "Seriously, Bradshaw? The hallway?"

His lips quirked, but his eyes stayed serious, steady. "Seemed like the only way to get you to actually talk to me."

Your stomach flipped, but you forced a scoff, leaning back slightly against the wall. "Talk to you? About what?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just let his gaze flicker over your face like he was trying to figure something out, like he was debating how much to say. Then, finally, quietly—

"You’re different with me."

Your breath caught.

Bradley took a step closer, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your eyes on his. "You talk all that shit with Hangman. You joke with Bob, mess with Fanboy, keep up with Phoenix. But with me?" His head tilted, voice dipping lower. "You’re careful."

You swallowed hard, willing your expression to stay neutral. "You’re imagining things, Bradshaw."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "No, I’m not." Another step, closing that last bit of space. "And I don’t think you are either."

Didn’t have to.

Because the way he was looking at you—the way he always looked at you—was more than enough.

"Tell me no," he murmured, voice rough, low, almost desperate. "Tell me to back off, and I will."

You should have. You knew you should have.

But you didn’t.

"Rooster, it's the alcohol talking."

His eyes searched yours, flickering between them, his throat working as he swallowed hard. "Snipes…" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he was trying to pull himself together, but then his voice dropped even lower, nearly breaking—

"Please."

And God help you, you wanted to give it to him.

"Bradshaw…"

"Tell me yes," he whispered. "Just once."

Your breath shuddered.

And then—

You did.

The word barely left your lips before Bradley moved.

Not rushed, not reckless, but like he’d been holding himself back for so damn long that the second you gave him permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His hands finally found you, one pressing firm and warm against your waist, the other cradling your jaw, fingers skimming your skin like he needed to memorize the way you felt beneath his touch.

And then—God—his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t tentative, wasn’t careful. It was needy, desperate in a way that sent heat rushing through you, like he’d been dying of thirst and you were the only thing that could quench it. His lips moved against yours like he was making up for lost time, like he couldn’t get enough, like he was afraid if he let you go, you’d slip right through his fingers.

It was overwhelming and dizzying, and God, you should have stopped him. Should have pushed him away before this became something you couldn’t take back.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let yourself sink into it, let yourself drown in him, let yourself pretend—just for a second—that this was something you could have. That Bradley was something you could have.

And when he finally pulled back, breath ragged, forehead resting against yours, his voice came out rough, almost wrecked.

"Tell me I’m not crazy," he whispered. "Tell me you want this too."

You swallowed hard, hands still curled into his shirt, your heart pounding against your ribs.

And when you finally answered, your voice was barely above a breath—

"I do."

You were just as desperate, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer until there was no space left between you, just heat and pressure and the intoxicating taste of whiskey and beer on his lips.

But then—between kisses, between the ragged breaths you barely had time to take—he murmured against your mouth, "Why’d you join the Navy?"

You barely processed the question at first, not with the way his lips trailed along your jaw, not with the way his hands were tracing slow, burning lines down your sides. But then he pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded but curious. Like he needed to know.

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering against your ribs. Of all the moments, of all the things—he wanted to ask this now?

You smirked, tilting your chin just slightly, your hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. "I like dressing like the man."

Rooster froze for half a second, his brows lifting slightly—then he let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his forehead dropping against yours. "God, I knew I liked you," he murmured, voice husky, and before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours again, deeper, hungrier, like your answer had just sealed something in him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, "I do too."

And then he was kissing you again, harder this time, like he was proving a point, like he was making damn sure you’d never forget it because to you, he is the man.

247 notes · View notes

yvesssssssss · 1 day ago

Note

Nagumo with a reader that can't handle or understand emotions or love without a condition or a certain valuable reason, like why would someone like or care about another?? (Especially Sakamoto family, why would a family care about each other, even better why care about someone outside the family like Shin?)

reader might like specific things or hang out with certain people (Nagumo) but once asked about the reason or why?

They genuinely struggle and start to lose interest and fall into existential and emotional crisis lol, tho they "like" Nagumo but never knew why and that irritates them.

Unraveling

I hope what I wrote accurately captures the idea you were going for and conveys the emotions and struggles you had in mind, and I really hope you enjoy it!

You never understood emotions. Not in the way other people seemed to.

People loved, people hated, people cared—often without any tangible reason. Families stayed together despite no real benefit, friends made sacrifices for one another, and the Sakamoto family, of all things, took in an outsider like Shin as if he were one of their own. Why? What did they get out of it?

You didn’t ask these questions aloud, but they festered in the back of your mind, quiet and relentless.

Nagumo was the closest thing you had to an exception. You spent time with him, tolerated his presence more than anyone else’s. Maybe even liked it.

But you had no answer when he finally asked:

"Why do you hang around me so much?"

It was a throwaway question, tossed lazily over his shoulder as he leaned against the store counter, spinning a small knife between his fingers. His tone was casual, teasing—but the weight of it pressed against your skull like a lead weight.

Why?

Your fingers twitched. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Nagumo noticed immediately. His dark eyes sharpened with amusement, curiosity. You’re struggling.

Your first instinct was to dismiss the question, but your mind was already spiraling.

You’d never stopped to think about it before. You weren’t with him for protection—you were capable of handling yourself. He wasn’t useful to you in any practical sense. You weren’t blood-related. There was no obligation.

And yet, you stayed.

Your head ached.

"Oi, oi," Nagumo chuckled, tapping the flat of his knife against your forehead. "That serious, huh?"

You didn’t answer. Your chest felt tight, a strange kind of panic creeping in—not fear, but something more insidious, something clawing at the foundation of your understanding.

Why?

"You're thinking too hard about it," Nagumo hummed. "Can’t you just—y’know, enjoy my company?"

That irritated you. More than it should have.

"That makes no sense."

"Oh?" His grin widened. "Why does it have to?"

It was a simple question. Almost childish. But it infuriated you. If things didn’t have reasons, then what was the point? If you couldn’t define your own attachment to him, then what did it mean?

You exhaled sharply, glaring at him. He looked amused, entertained by your inner turmoil. The way his dark eyes studied you made you feel like a puzzle he was enjoying piecing together.

But then something shifted.

Nagumo sighed dramatically and leaned in, voice dropping to something quieter, something almost thoughtful. "Maybe it’s not that deep," he murmured. "Maybe you just like how I make you feel."

You opened your mouth, then froze.

The way he made you feel.

Not what he gave you. Not what he did for you. But how you felt around him.

And that—that—was different.

You tried to recall it, the countless moments you’d spent with him. The way he filled silence so effortlessly, the way his teasing never felt sharp enough to hurt, the way his dark eyes flickered between mischief and something softer, something familiar.

You thought about the way he never pushed too far, even now, watching you with a lazy smirk but never pressing harder than you could handle. He knew you—understood your limits, knew exactly how much you could take before you’d snap.

And for the first time, a reason started forming. Not one built on logic, not one that fit neatly into your usual understanding of relationships.

You liked Nagumo because he made your world easier to exist in.

Because even when he confused you, even when his easygoing nature clashed with your need for explanations—he never made you feel wrong for it.

Because you could wrestle with your emotions, spiral into confusion, and he would just be there, laughing at your frustration but never once making you feel like you were broken.

Nagumo must have noticed the way your expression changed because he tilted his head, smirking. "Oh? That look on your face. You figure something out?"

You hated that he could read you so easily.

"Shut up," you muttered.

He laughed, bright and carefree. "That’s a yes."

And for the first time, you wanted to test something. You exhaled and looked at him, really looked at him. His dark eyes flickered with amusement, his posture relaxed, but not careless.

"If I told you why, would you leave?" you asked.

Nagumo blinked, his smirk faltering for just a second before it returned, slower this time. "Try me."

You hesitated. You make things easier. That was the simplest way to put it. You didn't feel like you had to force yourself to act a certain way around him, didn't feel like you had to fake emotions you didn’t understand.

"You don’t make me feel like I need to be anything else."

Nagumo was quiet for a beat, just watching you. Then, to your surprise, he let out a small chuckle—not his usual playful one, but something softer.

"That’s a damn good reason."

You stared at him.

"That’s it?"

"What, were you expecting something dramatic? A heartfelt confession?" He grinned. "Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not that kind of guy."

You didn’t know what you expected, but the fact that he accepted it so easily—without overanalyzing, without questioning—made something inside you settle.

"You really don’t think about things, do you?" you muttered.

Nagumo laughed. "Nope. That’s what makes me fun."

And maybe, just maybe, that was why you liked him.

#sakadays #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi x reader #sakamoto days nagumo

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kikyoupdates · 2 days ago

Text

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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For the first time in Katsuki’s life, he finds himself at a loss for words.

What kind of sick joke is this? It hasn’t even been that long since the two of you met, and he made sure to declare his name, loud and clear.

He’s Bakugou Katsuki. He’s the coolest kid in the world, blessed with an incredible Quirk, and he has no doubt that one day, he’ll surpass All Might as the Number One Hero.

And yet, you say you don’t remember his name? Is such a thing even possible? He’s the type of kid who leaves a lasting impression, no matter the time or place. No one who’s been lucky enough to meet him has ever, ever forgotten what his name is.

At least, not until today.

“Don’t... don’t say stupid crap,” Katsuki stammers. He swallows hard; for some reason, there’s a lump in his throat. “I know you remember me, stupid girl. Playing dumb won’t make a difference at this point.”

“I remember Izuku,” you say, pointing to the curly-haired boy in question. Then, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “But I didn’t bother memorizing your name, since I don’t like you very much. Actually, I don’t like you at all.”

Katsuki can feel his entire body trembling with rage, and to make matters even worse, several of his classmates have turned their heads and are now watching the scene unfold.

In Katsuki’s eyes, he’s always been the best. Ever since his Quirk manifested, or rather, even before that, his confidence has known no bounds. The universe blessed him with immeasurable power, and at the same time, cursed him with a remarkably inflated ego.

He’s gifted. He’s strong. To top it all off, he’s smart too.

So then, why are you staring at him as if you genuinely don’t give a single fuck?

“What’s wrong, blond guy?” you frown. “You’re making a funny face. Ah, don’t tell me. Are you constipated? Aizawa says it’s important to go to the bathroom on time and not to hold it in. Otherwise, you might—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!”

Without even thinking twice, Katsuki swings his fist at you, detonating an explosion at the very same time. Of course, using Quirks inside the classroom is absolutely not permitted, but right now, he’s too furious to even care.

He wants to punch that stupid, pretentious face of yours. He wants to put you in your place and prove exactly how much better he is than you.

But it looks like today just isn’t Katsuki’s day, because not only do you manage to sidestep him, demonstrating impressive reflexes, but the teacher chooses to walk into the classroom at that exact moment.

“Bakugou!” she cries out. “What in the world are you doing?!”

He’s in trouble now. He’s in big, big trouble.

And you must realize it too, since all of a sudden, you’re giggling.

“Haha,” you muse. “You did something dumb, and now the teacher’s angry with you.”

Katsuki slams his little fist against one of the desks, just barely suppressing the urge to scream. He knew he had a bad feeling about you from the first moment you met. He knew you were bound to be nothing but a giant pain in his ass.

There’s no doubt about it anymore.

Katsuki fucking despises you.

“You can’t attack your classmates,” the teacher chides. She grabs him and pulls him away from you, then crosses her arms in frustration. “I’m going to let you off with a warning today, but if I ever see you using your Quirk or trying to hurt someone again, next time, I’ll be telling your parents. Am I understood?”

Katsuki grits his teeth. He can see you out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough, you’ve still got that shit-eating grin on your face. A loser like you is actually laughing at someone like him.

No way in hell will he let you get away with this.

Katsuki isn’t sure how, and he’s not even sure when, but one day, he’s going to make you pay for humiliating him.

It’s only your first day at school, but so far, you’ve been having a blast.

The highlight of the day was obviously finding out that Izuku was in the same class as you. Naturally, you intend to make as many friends as possible, but you already liked Izuku, so this is the best turn-out imaginable. It doesn’t look like Shinsou is in this class, which is a bit of a bummer, but maybe one day you’ll get to meet him again too.

Anyways, school is fun. The teacher even specially pulled you to the front of the class, so that you could introduce yourself to everyone.

“I’m [Name],” you smile. “And this is my first time in school, so I’m really excited to be here!”

“Were you homeschooled until now?” one of the kids asks.

“Homeschooled...? What’s that?”

You don’t understand the question, but rather than allowing you to try and clarify, the teacher hastily cuts in.

“That’s right,” she says, straining a smile. “[Name] hasn’t been in school before, so it’s up to us to make sure that she feels comfortable and welcome, okay?”

The students hum in agreement, and thankfully, a bunch of six-year-olds aren’t too concerned with the details of your past, so they gloss over the issue with ease.

Of course, you don’t realize that the teacher was trying to save you just then. She’s been informed that you come from a traumatic background, and she’s doing everything in her power to make sure the other kids don’t say anything that might trigger you or come across as insensitive.

But unfortunately, what the teacher believes are memory gaps due to trauma, are in fact gaps in your knowledge that have yet to be filled in.

Which makes for several awkward instances that day.

“Okay, who wants to try reading the passage I’ve written on the board?” the teacher asks. She consciously avoids calling on you, but because you don’t know any better, you grin and volunteer yourself for the job.

“Me!” you beam. “I can do it!”

“Huh? O-Oh. Thank you for offering, [Name]. Go right ahead,” she encourages.

You just vaguely register Katsuki letting out a derisive snort, but you disregard it and direct all your attention to the blackboard.

It only takes a few moments for your brows to furrow.

“Um, actually, never mind,” you say. “I can’t really understand what you wrote.”

You sit back down like nothing ever happened, meanwhile, some of your classmates are either giggling or gossiping amongst themselves. But since you’re too naïve to realize that they’re making fun of you, you just smile and fold your hands together, happily swinging your legs underneath your desk.

The teacher hurries to clear her throat. “Th-That’s perfectly fine. Taking the initiative and challenging yourself is always a good thing. Um, so then... is there anyone else who’d like to try reading this passage?”

“I’ll do it.”

Katsuki proceeds to stand up, grinning rather smugly for some reason. You’re not particularly interested in him, but Aizawa and Present Mic did say that you’re here to learn things, so if he knows the right answer, you should probably pay attention.

To no one’s surprise, Katsuki reads the passage flawlessly. He’s the best student in the class, despite how much of a little asshole he is.

So, even rude guys like him know all kinds of things. I’d better do my best to learn more and make Aizawa and Mic proud.

Dr. Garaki planned for you to be a soldier. His personal little puppet. Needless to say, when he focused on developing your language comprehension, he primarily intended for you to be able to understand his orders and carry them out without questioning anything. He certainly didn’t expect you to be sitting in a classroom, equipped with a pencil and paper.

But that’s fine. You’re a bit behind the other kids right now, and that can’t be helped, but so long as you have the willingness to learn and improve, you have no doubt that you’ll catch up with them.

You will take fate into your own hands, rather than being used to fulfill someone else’s twisted ambitions.

Anyways, despite messing up in front of the whole class, you have yet to experience what it means to be embarrassed, so you carry on without being fazed in the slightest.

Soon enough, lunch rolls around.

“Izuku! Do you want to eat together?”

You grin as you walk up to his desk, and as always, he blushes at the sight of you approaching him so cheerfully.

“S-Sure,” he mumbles shyly. “If you really don’t mind...”

“Why would I mind? Being with you is so fun! Oh, and we can compare lunches too! Look, Aizawa packed me mini burgers,” you say, opening up your lunchbox and proudly displaying the contents within. “Hehe. I love burgers.”

“Aizawa?” Izuku blinks. “Isn’t that your last name? Earlier, the teacher wrote your full name on the board, and it said ‘Aizawa [Name]’. Do you call your parents by their last name for some reason?”

You frown at that. Come to think of it, Aizawa did mention that he enrolled you in this school using his last name, since he’s your legal guardian or whatever. You suppose that means you finally have a last name, like everyone else. But you've called him Aizawa for so long that it feels kind of weird to change it all of a sudden.

“Aizawa is just Aizawa,” you shrug. “He’s a nice man who takes care of me.”

“So, he’s your dad?”

“Dad? Hm... I guess kind of. Him and Mic are kind of like dads.”

Izuku furrows his brows, desperately trying to keep up. But he probably realizes that there’s a reason why you can’t give him a straight answer, and besides, all families are different, so he’s hardly one to judge.

“Anyways, what do you have for lunch?” you ask excitedly.

“Huh? Oh. My mom packed me katsudon,” Izuku smiles. Just like you did moments prior, he opens his lunchbox to show off what’s inside. “Katsudon is my favorite, so whenever I get to eat this for lunch, I’m always super happy!”

“I feel the same about burgers,” you nod solemnly. “If I could eat burgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I would. But Aizawa keeps saying I need variety or whatever. I don’t really get it, if I’m being honest...”

Izuku giggles. “Well, if you ate burgers all the time, then it probably wouldn’t be your favorite food anymore, right? You’d probably get sick of it at some point.”

“No,” you reply confidently. “I will never get sick of burgers.”

“Wow. You must really like them! Probably even more than I like katsudon!”

Since you’re incredibly generous (and also a bit curious), you offer Izuku some of your burgers in exchange for having a taste of his katsudon. He accepts, and while his food tastes delicious too, it only affirms what you already knew to be true.

Nothing will ever compare to a good-ass burger.

This of course stems from the fact that it was the first food you ever had. The very first thing you ever tasted since you became a conscious, living being. The taste is comforting to you, even if you don’t realize it, and it’s food that feeds your soul, not just your belly.

But either way, burgers are delicious, and that alone is plenty reason for you to keep eating them.

Lunch is a lot of fun, since you get to spend it chatting with Izuku. The two of you have a great time, and Izuku especially, because up until you came along, he either spent his lunches eating alone, or being teased by Katsuki and his groupies.

Speaking of a certain blond piece of shit, his lunch is going horribly, despite the fact that his mom packed his favorite spicy curry.

He can hardly stand the sight of you and Izuku, giggling stupidly, without so much as a care in the world. You really aren’t all there in the head if you’re choosing to hang out with that lame nerd. And you can’t even read properly, which further reinforces that you’re an idiot.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” one of the boys asks him. “You keep looking at [Name]. Are you still upset because she forgot your name?”

Katsuki’s face instantly reddens. “She did not forget my name,” he counters. “She was just pretending like she forgot my name. There's a difference. And why should I care about a stupid girl like her who doesn’t even know how to read?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” the boy acknowledges. “There’s no way someone would forget your name, Katsuki. Maybe she’s just shy. She might have a crush on you.”

“Ew. I’m not interested in girls and their cooties. Especially not the extra stupid ones.”

Katsuki shoves a spoonful of curry into his mouth and spares another quick glance at you. Then again, a crush is actually quite plausible. Everyone’s always praising him for how cool he is, and girls are no exception. It would certainly explain why you’re behaving so strangely, completely unlike anyone he’s ever met before.

Katsuki’s lips curl into a smug grin. A crush, huh? Yeah, that has to be what’s going on here. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s been fixating on you for so long, at least, not until you finally turn his way and knit your brows together.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you frown. “It’s annoying, so please stop.”

You turn back around and resume happily chatting with Izuku. Meanwhile, Katsuki’s spoon drops onto his desk, and for a solid minute, he sits there with his mouth gaping wide open in disbelief.

He seriously despises you to no fucking end.

A bell chimes, and just like that, your first day of school is officially over.

It was a lot of fun. Hanging out with Izuku was unarguably the best part, and even though you’ve discovered you need to polish up on your reading and writing skills, you’re not discouraged in the slightest. You’re sure that Aizawa and Present Mic can teach you more stuff at home. With their help, you’ll be an A+ student in no time.

“Aizawa! Mic!”

You rush out of the building, and just as promised, they’re both there waiting for you.

“Kiddo!” Present Mic grins. He opens up his arms so that you can run right into them, and without wasting a beat, he picks you up and twirls you around. You giggle at the sensation of your tiny feet being lifted off the ground.

Aizawa watches the exchange with a smile. “You look like you’re in a good mood. I’m guessing you had a fun time?”

“Yep!” you beam. “Oh, and best of all, I ran into a really nice boy who’s in my class! I think we’re going to be really good friends!”

Right on cue, Izuku appears behind you, walking next to a pretty woman who you can only assume is his mother.

“That’s him,” you say, pointing excitedly. “Izuku, look! This is Aizawa, and that’s Mic, who was with me at the playground! They’re the two nice people that take care of me.”

At first, Izuku is a bit bashful, and hides behind his mother’s arm. But as the seconds pass, and he stares at the two men’s faces more and more, a look of realization settles across his face.

“N-No way!” he exclaims, running up to you. “Are you the Voice Hero, Present Mic?! I didn’t realize it last time, but now that I’ve looked more closely, and the name Mic... it has to be you, right?”

“Hm? Ah.” Present Mic chuckles a few times. “Here I am, out of costume and in casual clothes, but you still recognized me, huh? I guess I do have pretty distinct features. Man, sometimes it’s tough being this handsome.”

“No, I think it’s just that your stupid expression is a dead giveaway,” Aizawa remarks.

“What?! Take that back right now!”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Curse you, Aizawa!”

The two are bickering like always, and it makes you giggle. Even though you’re a kid, you can still tell that it’s all in good fun. They get along great, and they care about each other. That much is obvious.

Izuku clenches his fists, eyes glossy and wide. “U-Um, if you don’t mind... would it be alright if I got your autograph? It’s just that you’re a really cool hero, and I love heroes, so...”

His voice tapers off near the end, and he bows his head, visibly flustered. It’s clear that he’s kind of starstruck and doesn’t quite know what to do.

Thankfully, Present Mic isn’t the type to leave a fan hanging.

“One autograph coming right up,” he grins, pulling out a pen (which he keeps on his person for this exact reason). Izuku lets out a squeal of delight, promptly digs into his backpack to grab one of his notebooks, and Present Mic proceeds to write a lengthy and personalized message.

When he’s done, Izuku stares at his new autograph in awe, and you can tell that he won’t be forgetting this meeting anytime soon.

“Say thank you to the nice hero, Izuku,” his mother, Inko, prods.

“Huh? O-Oh, right! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

The little boy bows his head over and over again, and you can’t help but feel like he’s being needlessly polite, especially since Present Mic is as laidback as they come, but you suppose it just goes to show how happy he is.

Izuku really likes heroes, it seems. And as fate would have it, you’re being raised by not one, but two of them.

Nobody can fault you for wanting to brag a little.

“Aizawa is a hero too,” you proudly declare. You expected Izuku to lose his mind again, and granted, he does get a bit more excited, but after a few seconds, his brows pull into a frown.

“S-Sorry,” he stammers. “I’m usually so good at recognizing heroes, but I’m kind of having a bit of a hard time with him...”

“Haha!” Present Mic laughs. “Suck it, Aizawa! You’ll never measure up to me in terms of popularity! Or looks, for that matter!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. “You know that I deliberately avoid making public appearances. Unlike you, I don’t waste my time worrying about trivial matters like that.” He looks back towards Izuku. “It’s okay if you don’t recognize me, kid. I keep my hero work on the downlow. But thank you for supporting this loud idiot, even if he doesn’t have much to offer.”

“Hey!” Present Mic protests. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aizawa ignores him, then offers you his hand. “Anyways, time to go home, [Name]. You can tell us all about how your first day went when we get back.”

“Okie-dokie! Bye-bye, Izuku!” You start to wave goodbye to your friend, but at the last second, you have a sudden thought, and you briefly pull away from Aizawa to whisper in Izuku’s ear. “Eraserhead,” you mumble. “That’s Aizawa’s hero name, just in case you were wondering. Don’t worry. If you want his autograph, I can get it for you another time.”

His green eyes go unspeakably wide, so sure enough, he has heard of Aizawa.

For some reason, it makes you feel awfully proud.

“B-Bye, [Name]!” Izuku waves. He’s so excited he’s practically bouncing in place, no doubt looking forward to the autograph you promised him. Unlike Present Mic, Aizawa isn’t usually too keen on interacting with fans, but you’re positive that with a bit of time, you’ll be able to convince him.

Aizawa frowns when you link back up with him. “What were you whispering about?”

“It’s a secret,” you hum.

“Oh? Already keeping secrets, I see. Your classmates must be a bad influence on you,” he muses.

“Nuh-uh! Everyone seems really nice so far. Oh,” you blink, realizing something. “I guess there is one guy that might be a bit of a bad influence. But don’t worry, I’m staying away from him.”

“What?” Present Mic frowns. “Is there a problem child in your class?”

“I guess you could call him that. Mic, remember the blond kid that was trying to make people climb that tree? That's him.”

Present Mic lets out a loud, obnoxious gasp. “Great heavens above. Aizawa, this is serious. There’s a demon in [Name]’s class.”

“I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Aizawa sighs. Still, you can feel his grip on your hand instinctively get tighter. “But like I said before, there’s always going to be people that try to pressure others into doing bad things, so don’t be swayed by him. Always make the smart, safe choice.”

You nod in agreement. “Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt because of him anymore. He tried punching me today in class, but I evaded him, and then he got in trouble with the teacher. It was kind of funny.”

In your mind, it was just a casual, thoughtless remark. You’re unharmed, after all, and since no limbs were broken in the process, you figured it was no big deal.

But in light of the information you’ve just divulged, Aizawa and Present Mic find their expressions turning to horror.

They proceed to lock eyes, and in that moment, it’s clear that they’re both thinking the same thing.

“What’s that little brat’s name?” they both glower. “We’d like to have a word with him.”

You purse your lips. They seem awfully serious all of a sudden, although you can’t understand why, because you got out of that situation safe and sound. Clearly, you have yet to realize just how overprotective your ‘dads’ can be.

“His name,” Aizawa insists. “Trying to hurt someone is absolutely unacceptable. We need to take this up with the kid’s parents. In fact, I’m surprised the teacher didn’t tell us. She must have been trying to give the boy a second chance, but it’s still inexcusable.”

“He’s already gotten a second chance,” Present Mic grimaces. “Back at the playground, I already caught him trying to hit [Name] once. It looks like he’s a repeat offender, and bullies like that need to be dealt with right away.”

They’re becoming more heated by the second, and again, it’s strange, because as far as you’re concerned, your first day of school went splendidly.

But you suppose you should tell them what they want to know, since they seem so worked up about it.

“His name,” you start, furrowing your brows, “his name is, um... his name...”

Ah.

“Darn. Looks like I’ve forgotten it again.”

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notiddygothgf · 2 days ago

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★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Tell me something I don't know.❞

★ c.w.: sexual content (referenced), suggestive content (near the end), blood/stitches, BDSM mention

★ a/n: heyyyy lolll... how yall doinggggg..... okay so ik i said i was gonna stick to a regular schedule. but i literally was chewing my fingernails waiting for a week to pass so i figured, why not just update earlyyyy???? i was DYING for u all to enjoy this. a little more plotbuilding, as this is where the story is gonna pick up !!! please keep on commenting away, you guys are the whole reason i'm so motivated to get up and update this story! i love u bunches! x

★ w.c: 11.5k

pornstar ; chapter index

YOU HADN’T SLEPT a wink last night. You had spent the evening rolling around uselessly, brain overrun with thoughts about the grave sin you had just committed. You felt like a priest – some sort of holy figure who had just broken his vow of chastity. Yet, despite everything, you couldn’t help but think about him. He dominated your thoughts, images of his chiseled body, the face he made when he slipped inside, him, him, him.

“Touch me—” You gasped out, “Touch me, sir, please.”

You groaned, pressing the pillow deep into your face, hoping in vain that you might suffocate and be put out of your misery.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“Bet you get off on it, hm? Get off on pissing me off… being put in your place.”

You couldn’t get him out of your head. He was like a parasite, like an organism that had crawled into your brain and decided to set up camp there. Every single goddamn time you closed your eyes, there he was – his sharp angles, his ocean blue eyes, that damn smirk.

“Do you have… any clue…” He panted, eyes wild. “What you fucking do to me?

You were in over your head. To be completely frank, you had never thought you would get that far with your superior, to fuck him – let alone for three rounds. While it was undoubtedly the most enjoyable sexual escapade you’d ever had, you hadn’t exactly planned for the aftermath of it.

He hadn’t texted or called. You had been stupid to hope that he might – no, he never did. You can’t recall a single time you had ever used his phone number. Still, a naive part of you had wished that he would call you up after all was said and done, ask you if you got home safe, tell you he liked it, too… tell you something that would help you make sense of everything that had happened.

"It was the pollen," he said, as if that was some kind of excuse. "Don’t be hard on yourself. I think the devil wanted to distract us."

That was the thing. It wasn’t just the pollen. One more drunk mistake, and you would have tried to fuck him by now. Where there was once hatred for him and his stupid face, the only thing left now was a lingering sense of confusion. It was more than just a sexual excursion. You had been so close to him – been able to see his face when he fell apart beneath your touch, tasted him, felt him. And, now, the morning after, you felt cold – your bed exceptionally empty.

He gripped you by the hair, craning your gaze down to the junction between your bodies, to the place where he was disappearing in out of you. It was a vulgar sight, a messy one, too – he was coated in an obscene mixture of your wetness and his cum, a fluid that made a lewd ‘schlick’ sound every time his navel bumped up against your clit. Every movement, every thrust pushed his warm seed deeper and deeper into your needy pussy.

Aki groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “So fucking perfect,” he whispered. “Can’t get enough of you.”

Your gut churned with heat. He hadn’t been able to get enough of you.

The morning light filtered through the blinds in thin, golden slats, cutting across the room in soft, uneven lines. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, utterly drained. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was something heavier, something pressing down on your chest and making it hard to breathe. You felt wrung out, sore in ways you hadn’t expected, every inch of your body still sensitive from last night.

You shifted under the blankets and winced. Your back ached, deep and insistent, and a dull soreness settled in your thighs. God. You pressed your fingers into your temples, as if that might somehow will away the memories threatening to resurface—the weight of his body against yours, the way his breath had shuddered against your skin, the sheer intensity in his ocean-blue eyes.

And now? Nothing. Silence. No calls. No texts. Not that you had expected any, but still, some stupid part of you had hoped.

You exhaled sharply and dragged a pillow over your face, muffling the frustrated groan that bubbled up from your throat. How the fuck am I supposed to face him?

You knew Aki. Knew how he operated. He would act like it never happened—because that was easier, because it kept things clean. Business as usual. That’s what he’d want. That’s what he’d expect.

But you couldn’t do it. Not yet.

You could still hear him, his voice rough with need. “Good girl.”

Your stomach twisted.

Maybe he hadn’t meant it. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, just something people said when they were caught up in it. You knew better than to read into things—you weren’t naive—but something about the way he had held you, the way he had looked at you…

You groaned again and pushed the blankets off. No use sitting here overthinking it. You had shit to do.

Your legs protested as you stood, a deep ache spreading through your muscles, making you wince. You rubbed at the knots in your lower back and shuffled to the bathroom, stripping out of your wrinkled clothes. The warm spray of the shower helped a little, easing the soreness in your limbs, but it did nothing for the thoughts racing through your head.

You leaned your forehead against the tile, inhaling deeply. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel him, still hear him—his ragged breaths, the quiet, almost desperate sounds he had made.

“Where’s that attitude?” he taunted, his voice a low purr. “Thought you hated me.”

Your fingers curled into fists. You didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about what any of this meant.

You finished your shower quickly, trying to ignore how tender your skin felt, how certain spots still burned with memory. When you stepped out, the apartment felt too quiet, too empty. You moved through your usual routine—toweling off, brushing your hair, slipping into fresh clothes—but everything took longer than it should have. Every little thing reminded you of him. The scent of your shampoo, because his fingers had been in your hair. Your lotion, because his lips had been everywhere.

Just stop thinking about it.

You pulled open your closet and grabbed the first thing that looked comfortable enough to wear, not caring if it matched. Tugging your sweater over your head, you glanced at the clock. You were already running late, but you found yourself hesitating, standing motionless in the middle of your room.

A part of you wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and pretend none of it had happened. But that wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that you would have to see him again. That you would have to pretend like your entire world hadn’t tilted overnight.

A deep sigh left your lips as you grabbed your phone. No messages. No missed calls. Of course not. You swallowed down the sting of disappointment and tossed the phone onto your bed, shoving your hands into your pockets as you rocked back on your heels. You had to go. You had plans with Himeno, and as much as you wanted to avoid human interaction, flaking on her wasn’t an option.

You sat on the edge of your bed to lace up your boots, and the moment you leaned forward, a sharp ache flared down your spine. Your breath hitched. Shit. You clenched your jaw and straightened up slowly, your hands gripping your knees. You hadn’t even considered the full extent of how sore you would be today, but now it was undeniable.

The worst part? Aki had been just as wrecked as you. His voice had gone hoarse by the end, his body had trembled against yours, and yet this morning, he was probably fine. Probably already dressed in his usual uniform, hair tied back neatly, acting like nothing happened.

The same thing you should have been able to do.

You sighed and stood, brushing your hands down your thighs before grabbing your bag. You needed air. You needed to leave before your thoughts spiraled any further.

Pulling your coat over your shoulders, you made your way to the door. Your fingers hovered over the handle for a second longer than necessary. Once you stepped outside, there was no more hiding from reality. No more pretending that the world hadn’t shifted under your feet.

With a deep breath, you pulled the door open and stepped into the cool morning air.

Shopping with Himeno had been the exact sort of distraction you needed. She had proven to be easy company. Things were never confusing when she was around – she was all giggles and laughter, something that made it a little easier for you to slip into the folds of her conversation. Before you knew it, you had nearly forgotten about the night before (nearly, because you were beginning to believe that you would never forget it).

Presently, the two of you sat across from one another at a restaurant, sushi neatly plated before the both of you, faces stuffed with rolls you couldn’t name if someone paid you to do so. And, as always, the drinks were flowing. It was perfect.

She dipped a sweet potato roll into the soy sauce, popping it into her mouth with a content little hum. “And that’s what I was getting at – devil hunters have needs, too.”

“Sure, but I don’t think our line of work leaves us with many opportunities,” You laughed, taking up a piece of your own sushi – something sweet with salmon and avocado.

She quirked a brow at you, “You been having trouble finding time to get down, too?”

You have no idea.

You waved it around in the air between the two of you, using it as an extension of your voice. “You could say that.”

“Ugh, I swear to God, if I don’t get laid soon, I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind,” Himeno groaned, clearly exasperated, throwing her head back before taking a long sip of her drink. “Frustrated is an understatement.”

You gave her a noncommittal hum, but her words barely registered in your mind. No, it had already begun to drift, to wander back to him, to last night – to the way he had felt pressed up against you, the way he broke, to every single detail, like you were reliving the moment all over again. Reliving the feeling of his hands, the breathy way he had said your name, the sheer intensity in those pretty eyes that had only ever looked down on you with scorn before.

And Himeno was none the wiser about it. She had no idea. No clue that you had fucked her partner… raw. That just last night, Aki Hayakawa had been buried so deep inside of you that you were unable to form a coherent thought. That he had pressed his forehead into the crook of your neck, trembling as he murmured words of praise against your skin.

You planned to keep it that way.

You reached for your cocktail, taking a slow sip, hoping the richness of it, the burn of the alcoholic contents would snap you out of your reverie. As expected, it did nothing of the sort.

“So,” Himeno said rather suddenly, turning towards you with that lazy smirk of hers, and you knew she was up to no good before the words even left her mouth, “What about you? Anything happen? Anyone?”

It’s almost like she knows, you thought, but there was no way. How could she know? It’s not like Aki would have told her, or anything like that. Hell, he hadn’t even spoken to you about it.

Still, you bristled, her words unsettling you.

Yes, you immediately thought, but you couldn’t exactly say that. Instead, you put on your best poker face, shrugging with a nonchalance that shocked even you. Still, you gripped your glass a little harder, a little tighter. You could lie about it all you want, but no amount of fibbing would change the fact that it had happened. That you had made a conscious effort to remember your daily birth control pill today. That he had felt so warm, so right, nestled deep inside of your walls the night before.

The thoughts had been haunting you all fucking day. No matter what you did, your mind kept on wandering right back to him – how his fingers had caressed the most sensitive part of you, how he had looked at you like he wanted to consume you whole. And now, to top it all off, his silence was killing you for a reason you couldn’t quite understand.

You needed help.

So, swallowing, then inhaling sharply, you gave in.

“Actually… there was something I wanted to ask you about,” You set your drink down, exhaling through your nose like it pained you to do so. “I need your advice. I saw this… guy, the other night…”

Himeno blinked slowly, lips curling into a grin. “Oho, finally!” She nudged you by the arm with a familiar playfulness, but it did nothing to settle the pit in your stomach. “It’s about damn time. What’s the issue?”

You thought of saying nevermind, of telling her to forget you had even asked… but, then, you would have no other input but your thoughts, and that was a horrible predicament to put yourself in.

With a sigh, you shifted in your seat, “I dunno. I figured it would be a one-time thing, you know? But, now… I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. About him.”

You hadn’t meant for the conversation to trickle into such forbidden territory – especially not with the partner of the man you were talking about – but you simply couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the crushing weight of your thoughts finally driving you up the wall.

“Is that a bad thing?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hesitated before responding to her. “It’s unexpected, that’s for sure. I wasn’t planning on the whole thing messin’ with my head the way it is. I’ve had casual sex before, but, like, this feels… different. It’s like he’s stuck in my head,” You sighed. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Himeno studied you for a moment too long, scrutinizing you like she knew something you didn’t. “Okay… first off– how was it?”

You gasped sharply as he shifted beneath you, the change in his movements subtle but powerful. His grip tightened around your hips, the pressure of his hands grounding you in a way that made your breath catch. Each motion of his was deliberate, calculated, as he pressed into you harder, deeper, until the world outside of this moment seemed to disappear. All you could feel was him—his warmth, his breath, the way his body moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless, desperate for more.

"Aki," you whispered, your voice trembling as it fought to keep its composure, as if that one breath could shatter everything you were trying to hold onto.

His response was immediate, a quiet promise in the way he spoke your name. "I’m here," he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder in a soft kiss. "I got you."

With a breathy laugh, you shook the memory out of your head, “Fucking phenomenal.”

She let out a low, impressed whistle. “Damn. Good for you, girl,” She took another sip of her drink, then cast you the sort of look that only a good female friend could give you – one that told you ‘your secret’s safe with me’. “Sounds like someone might be catching feelings.”

It’s not that. Definitely not, you thought. No, just 48 hours ago, you still hated his fucking guts.

There’s no way.

Still, your stomach twisted, “It’s not that.”

She gave you a look that was equal parts pointed and unconvinced, “You sure?”

You hesitated a fraction too long, and that was all it took.

She was smirking all over again, and that was infuriating as it was. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. This was exactly the sort of thing you had been scared of – Himeno telling you what you didn’t want to hear. “It’s not that simple.”

“Does he feel the same way?”

He laughed, a low sound that made the back of your neck tingle. "God," he said, his grin widening. You had scarcely seen him smile before, "I think you might be the best lay I’ve ever had."

“I don’t know,” You admitted, “I haven’t exactly heard from him at all since it happened. No texts, no calls, nothing.”

You weren’t making a very good case for him. In all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure why you wanted to make a good case in the first place. If it were anyone else, you would have been able to tell her straight up how it was.

But he was fucking with your head.

She whistled again. “Cold.”

“It’s not like I expected him to!” You rushed out, waving your hands around. “That’s just how he is. He doesn’t… do attachments,” You continued, only digging your grave deeper. “And I shouldn’t care. I should just move on from it, but I don’t feel like I can.”

You were surprised she hadn’t caught on by now. You blamed it on the drinks. Wherever Himeno was, drinks were always involved.

She tapped her fingers against the table, drumming the rhythm to some tune you couldn’t name, considering the options. “Alright, well, the way I see it, you’ve got two options,” She held up two fingers. “Either you suck it up and move on with your life, or you man up and talk to him about it.”

Shit. “Yeah,” You exhaled, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

She grinned wickedly, “You don’t like either of those options?”

“Not one bit,” You smiled weakly, even though you knew she was right.

Still, you exhaled again, rubbing a hand over your face, massaging the oncoming headache away. “It’s kinda hard to move on because he’s, like…” You trailed off, desperately searching for the right words to convey what you were trying to say. “He’s just different,” You finally gritted out. “He… showed me things I’ve never experienced before.”

Himeno raised her brows, teasing smirk curling the edges of her lips, “Oh? Well, now I’m jealous. What sorts of things did this mystery man show you?”

Then, heat was creeping its way up the back of your neck as the memories came rushing back in, spreading out over your chest like it was in your veins. Images flashed behind your eyes – rough hands pinning you down, his voice dropping as he murmured complete and utter filth against your skin, him looking down at you, owning you in a way that made your stomach twist with something dangerously addictive.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you admitted, “I don’t know. He was just… in control,” You swallowed. “The way he spoke to me, the way he handled me – it wasn’t… like anything I’ve ever had before. He– he was rough, and I… I felt like, for the first time ever– I felt like I wasn’t in control. Like my head was empty.”

You hadn’t expected to come clean to her today, yet, here you were.

Himeno leaned back in her seat with a slow, knowing, shit-eating grin. “Ohhhh,” she teased. “I see what’s goin’ on here.”

You pouted, “What?”

She leaned in closely, as if the two of you were conspiring about someone nearby and not about a mystery man. “You ever heard of BDSM?” She whispered.

You tilted your head, confused by the acronym, “Uh… no…? Should I have?”

She snorted. “Yeah, I figured,” Setting her drink down, she gestured vaguely, “Bondage, dominance… uh… some other freaky shit like that.”

What a conversation starter.

Your eyes widened, damn near bulging out of your head at the crass admission, “What?”

She only laughed at the expression on your face. “It’s, like, a whole thing. Some people get off on being in control, others get off on giving it. From what you’re telling me, that’s probably what’s happening.”

Your stomach twisted. The second she uttered the word dominant, your mind immediately snapped back to him – his sharp blue eyes, the way he had pinned you down and made you take all of him, the way he commanded you like it was second nature to him. Your face was on fire.

That sounds about right.

Himeno’s grin only widened, “Oooh, look at that blush.”

You scowled at her. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, though. Might be something worth looking into,” She whispered, completely ignoring your embarrassed expression. “There’s lots of people who want the same thing. You’re not crazy, girl.”

“I’m not looking into bondage, Himeno,” you hissed.

She shrugged, “What? You’ve never gotten curious?”

You shot your coworker an incredulous look, digits tightening their grasp around your cocktail, like it was tethering you to the present. “No,” You answered flatly, but even you could hear the hesitation in your voice.

Her grin stretched even wider, “Sure,” She took a slow, calculated sip of her beer, observing you over the rim of her glass. “You just told me about how much you loved being manhandled, degraded, put in your place–”

Your face burned even hotter, if that was even possible, “I did not say that.”

“Not in those words exactly,” She teased right back, “But, come on, don’t lie. You clearly liked it.”

You exhaled sharply, shifting in your seat. The truth of it gnawed at you. Of course, you had liked it—you had never experienced anything like it before. The way he had taken control, how effortlessly he had read your body, how he had given you no choice but to take him exactly how he wanted—God. Even just thinking about it made your skin prickle with heat.

Your silence must have been enough of an answer because Himeno just grinned, swirling the last of her drink around in her glass. “See?” she said smugly. “No harm in admitting it.”

You sighed, pressing a hand to your temple. “I wasn’t saying it was a bad thing.”

“Exactly!” Himeno said brightly, leaning back in her chair. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s just something you like.” She raised a brow. “So, why not explore it a little?”

You frowned, rubbing your thumb along the condensation on your glass. “Because it’s—” You stopped, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Because it’s him.

You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming—the fact that you had just had the most intense sexual experience of your life or the fact that it had been with your fucking Captain.

And yet…

Your mind kept circling back to it, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. The way he had held you down, kissed you from head to toe, dragged those rough hands down your body like he was claiming you. He had taken you apart and put you back together in the span of a night, and now?

Now you were left picking up the pieces, completely out of your depth.

It hadn’t just been sex, had it?

It had been something else entirely—something you didn’t have the words for.

Himeno nudged you with her elbow again, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Hey, earth to kinky girl,” she teased.

You groaned, slumping forward onto the table. “I hate you.”

She snickered, patting your back. “I’m just saying,” she continued, her voice laced with amusement. “There’s a whole world out there. Lots of people are into the same shit. If you want more of it, there’s no reason to feel weird about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” you mumbled, your face buried in your arms.

“Liar.”

You groaned again.

Himeno’s voice softened just a little, like she knew it was deeper than sex, too. “Listen, if you’re really that confused about it, then maybe you should talk to him.”

Your stomach did an unpleasant flip.

Talking to Aki about it was the last thing you wanted to do. The thought alone made your skin prickle with nerves. What would you even say? Hey, so, that thing we did? The thing I can’t stop thinking about? Can we do it again?

Absolutely not.

No. The only thing you could do—the only thing—was forget it ever happened. Pretend like it was just a one-time thing, a moment of weakness fueled by whatever godforsaken heat had taken over the both of you. That’s what Aki would want, right?

Right?

Himeno must have caught the look on your face because she let out a dramatic sigh. “Or you could just pretend like it never happened and suffer in silence,” she said dryly.

She clocked me bad.

“That sounds like a great plan,” you muttered.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, finally sitting up straight, “tell me something I don’t know.”

Himeno studied you for a moment, something thoughtful passing over her expression. “Alright, fine. No more interrogation—for now,” she added with a knowing smirk. “But, hey—” she pointed a finger at you— “When you inevitably go crawling back for more, I better be the first to know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not happening.”

Himeno raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Uh-huh. Sure. And who’s this guy?”

You froze, your blood turning cold. You knew exactly where this was headed. You lifted your drink to your lips, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Himeno wasn’t backing down. “Come on,” she urged, smirking with that familiar, playful glint in her eyes. “You can’t be this evasive. I’ve got to know who’s got you all twisted up in knots.”

You felt a tightness in your chest, a wave of panic rushing over you. “I’m not telling you,” you said, the words coming out too quickly. “It was just… a thing. That’s it.”

Himeno stared at you, clearly not buying it. “Okay. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She leaned back in her chair, eyes never leaving you. “Do I know him?”

You stayed silent, your fingers tight around the glass. You weren’t about to take the bait. Not today.

You were lying in bed, the soft weight of the blanket wrapped around your body like a comfort you didn’t know you needed. The room was dark except for the dim glow of your laptop screen, casting a pale light over your face. Your mind was still tangled up in the words Himeno had said to you earlier. Her teasing, that knowing smirk—it had all seemed so playful at first. But now, in the silence of your room, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something had shifted inside you.

You tapped the touchpad of your laptop, the glow intensifying as you opened a new tab. BDSM. The word alone felt foreign, almost too bold to look at. But curiosity gnawed at you, growing by the second. Before you even realized it, your fingers were typing out the search. You pressed enter, your breath catching slightly as the first results popped up on the screen.

Images flooded your vision—some explicit, some suggestive, others more abstract, but all sharp and deliberate. You quickly scrolled past a few, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what you were seeing. This wasn’t the kind of thing you’d ever really thought about before.

But now? Now, there was this pull, a strange curiosity that you couldn’t quite explain.

You stopped at one image, your finger hovering just above the screen. It was a black-and-white photo of a woman on her knees, head lowered, hands bound with intricate rope. The composition was beautiful in its starkness, the tension between submission and artistry pulling you in. You felt a flutter in your stomach, a sense of something stirring deep within you. There was an undeniable intensity in the way the image made you feel. It wasn’t just sexual—it was raw, it was emotional, it was all-consuming. You found yourself staring at the image, your mind wandering into thoughts you had never fully allowed yourself to entertain.

What is it about this?

You scrolled down, letting your thumb glide across the touchpad as your thoughts spun. You started reading through the articles—terms like dom, sub, aftercare, safe words, limits swirled in front of you, a jumble of ideas, concepts, and definitions that made your head spin. You kept reading, your mind trying to process each new word, each new phrase. The idea of domination and submission, of control and surrender, began to take on a form you didn’t realize could be so enticing. It was like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve, each piece more confusing than the last but also more alluring.

You couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the center of it all.

What would it feel like?

The thought drifted into your mind before you could catch it, but now that it was there, it was impossible to shake. You pictured someone—no, him. Aki.

You saw him clearly in your mind’s eye, his posture so casual yet commanding, his dark eyes piercing through you as if he saw right into your soul. You imagined him in control, in charge, his hand on your shoulder, gentle yet firm. He didn’t have to say a word, but you felt it—he would never need to. There was an unspoken authority in the way he stood, the way he held himself, the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed even when you didn’t know yourself.

The thought made your heart race.

You pictured him standing before you, watching as you kneeled in front of him. It was almost laughable—the idea of you, you of all people, giving in so easily. But in that moment, in the silence of your room, it didn’t seem so impossible. In fact, the idea of it felt… right. Your body stirred, the sensation unfamiliar but exciting.

Why Aki?

You wondered, a part of you questioning why it was him you were imagining. Why not someone else? It wasn’t like you’d ever thought about him in that way, not really—not before tonight, anyway. Before that night, he had been just… Aki. But now? Now, he was something else entirely.

You thought back to that night, to the way he had touched you, held you, as if the entire world had fallen away. You had never been so exposed, so vulnerable—and yet, it had felt so right. The way he had taken control without hesitation, how his hands had guided you, how he had spoken to you, his voice low and commanding, making you want to surrender. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, mental. It was a force that you hadn’t expected, one that seemed to break you down and rebuild you all at once.

You felt a heat flood your body, your mind unable to escape the image of him. You closed your eyes, imagining his touch again, the way he had made you feel as though you didn’t have to think, as though you could just let go and trust him to lead you.

What if you could have that again?

The thought crashed over you like a wave. You didn’t even know what it was you wanted exactly. But the idea of being so completely under someone’s control, the idea of Aki having that power over you, sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just about the physical act of it, though. It was the way he had made you feel—like you were the center of his world, even if just for that moment.

You kept scrolling, letting the images blur together as you sought something more, something deeper. You clicked on a new link, your pulse quickening as you read about dominants. A dominant, according to the article, was someone who took control, who led in a relationship based on trust, communication, and respect. A lifestyle dominant—someone who took on that role in their everyday life, someone who would tell you what to do, what to wear, what to say. The more you read, the more fascinated you became.

This wasn’t just about an occasional fling or fantasy; this was a way of life. A relationship built on power, on control, on surrender.

Could that be what I want?

The thought made your stomach twist with a mixture of excitement and unease. It was a life where someone else made the decisions, told you what to do, what to feel, and in return, you gave yourself to them completely. You imagined it, the idea of Aki in that role, not just for a moment, but as a constant presence in your life. He would guide you, tell you what to do, and you would trust him, surrender to him in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand.

You read more, about the intricacies of being a dominant, how they set boundaries, how they communicated their desires. A true dominant didn’t just take what they wanted; they ensured that their partner was safe, comfortable, and willing. They would care for you, even as they commanded you. It was a delicate balance, one that seemed so foreign and yet so utterly appealing.

Your thoughts spun faster now, more consumed than before. You imagined Aki’s voice in your ear again, telling you what to do, taking control without hesitation. It was all too much, too fast, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. What if this is what I need?

In fact, you didn’t stop researching until a knock sounded at your front door – it was distant, but firm. Nearly jumping out of your skin, you slammed your laptop shut and made your way over to the front door. You didn’t recall ordering any deliveries, or anything of the sort, so it was surprising enough that you had received a visitor this late into the evening. It was even more surprising when you stood on your tip-toes to glance through the peephole and saw the silhouette of a man leaning against your doorframe, raven hair disheveled, blue eyes peering back into yours.

And your heart fucking plummetted.

What the hell is he doing here? You thought.

You totally freaked out, glaring at your messy apartment, at the dainty camisole and pajama shorts you were wearing. In all of your bare-legged glory, you would make for one hell of a sight. (Nevermind the fact that you and he had… well, nevermind.) On any other day, you would have pretended he hadn’t ever knocked in the first place, run around and cleaned the place before he noticed, but a second look at him let you know that he needed help. He had a pained expression on his pretty face, and he was clutching his arm to his side. The white sleeves of his dress shirt were soaked through with a carmine pigment.

Blood.

Immediately, you cast your insignificant worries aside, throwing the door open because, dammit, the man you had been fantasizing about forever was standing right in front of your door with a bleeding arm – and there he was. Standing six-foot-something over you, mouth open as if to apologize before the words caught in his throat. Then, his gaze dropped from your face to your outfit – rather skimpy for the occasion, you understood – and back up to your messy hair.

Is there a draft in here? You wondered, suddenly feeling rather cold.

You opened your mouth… closed it, opened it again, “What…” You swallowed – What are you doing here? “What happened?”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, exhausted, “I was patrolling… alone, and… I got injured by this… this devil– I…” He swallowed, as if it physically wounded him to show up at your doorstep. “Can I come in?”

You knew it was no good. You knew that in here – in your home – you wouldn’t be able to resist him. Still, you would be damned if you turned him away, so you led him into the kitchen. He looked out of place among your things – all things pink and girly, and then there was him, head bumping the cupboards, stained with blood, wearing his Public Safety uniform (or what was left of it, anyway). He leaned against the kitchen counter, bracing his hand on the ledge of the sink for support.

The captain is in my fucking apartment.

He looked like he was in pain.

“Let me see it,” You sighed, gesturing to his shirt.

He looked away from you, as though flustered by the proximity, the intimacy of it all, yet began undoing his buttons nonetheless. Briefly, your mind flashed back to a certain instance two nights ago when he had done the same thing. Once the shirt was undone, he let it fall off his shoulders, revealing a deep, crimson gash in his left arm.

Holy shit.

“It’s a lot better than it looks,” He commented, like that makes the situation any better.

“Why the hell were you even patrolling alone?” You huffed, rolling his shirt into a ball and setting it to the side. You made your way over to the bathroom, flicked on the faucet, placed the drain stopper down, and then came back out to him just to put a hand on your hip. Like you had any right to be upset with him – like he owed you an explanation.

What the hell has gotten into me?

“I was supposed to patrol with Kusakabe. He was filling in for Himeno, but he… he called out last minute,” He explained. Meanwhile, you observed the wound – it spanned the length of his entire upper arm, and looked to be a few inches deep. There was dried blood, crusted around it, and you knew it would have to be cleaned.

You pressed your finger into the skin near the wound, unbothered by the gore, to see if it was still actively bleeding. It was, just not as much as it was before. A little bit of blood trickled out, staining the tip of your finger red.

“You should have called me,” You retorted, leading him to the bathroom. On any other day, the action would have been questionable at best, but you weren’t thinking about any of that, not now. You were thinking about helping him. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”

He looked down at you with the faintest hint of shame behind his eyes, and that was all it took. You realized that the reason he hadn’t called you was the same reason you hadn’t called him.

Without a word, you pushed him into the bathroom. The tub was somewhere around halfway full with water.

“Wash up in here,” You sighed, rinsing your hand clean beneath the faucet. You turned to where he was standing, remarkably shirtless and muscular, and you couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered. “I can clean the wound, if you want. Call me if you need me.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have said that the Captain looked a little flustered by the whole situation. Still, he nodded.

“Thank you,” He answered, voice gruff. No bite, no sarcastic remark, just a thank you, real and genuine.

You nodded back. The moment the bathroom door was shut, you slapped your palms over your face, dragging them down and groaning into your hands. Oh my god. He’s inside of my fucking bathroom. What the hell is going on?

The universe certainly had a cruel idea of a joke.

You stood outside the bathroom, feeling your nerves get the best of you. The door was cracked open just enough to let you hear the faint sounds of running water—an occasional splash followed by the low murmur of his voice. You had to force yourself to take steady breaths, pushing down the rising sense of panic that tightened in your chest, force yourself to step into your room and rummage through your drawers in search for some men’s clothes, something oversized, anything.

You found a pair of sweatpants an ex boyfriend had left some years ago, and decided that would have to do. You stood there in the room for what had to have been ten minutes, just mulling the situation over in your head.

When you had walked in earlier, you never expected this. Him, shirtless in your bathroom, a wound on his arm that you knew you’d have to clean, and yet somehow, the thought of doing it felt like stepping into uncharted territory. He wasn’t just some soldier you needed to patch up. He was Aki.

What the hell is going on?

You forced yourself to move toward the bathroom, your hands clutching the fresh clothes you'd brought for him. Your heart was thudding in your ears, louder than the sound of water sloshing in the tub, and your palms were suddenly clammy. You were crossing a line, you knew it, but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter. You stepped into the bathroom, your eyes still shut tight, trying to keep yourself from getting too tangled in your thoughts or—worse yet—your emotions.

“I brought you some clothes,” you said, the words spilling out in a rushed, almost anxious tone. You had to keep it together. You didn’t dare open your eyes, afraid of what you might see—afraid of how his presence would make you feel.

"Thanks," Aki responded, voice low, thick with a quiet tension.

You heard him shifting in the water, the sound of his wet skin against the tub. That alone was enough to send your pulse into overdrive, but you had to fight the urge to turn and leave. You had to act normal. It was just a wound, just a wound.

“Can you clean it?” he asked suddenly.

Your body froze. The question was simple, but it hit you like a bolt of lightning, cracking through your calm. You hadn’t expected him to ask you directly, hadn’t expected to feel this… exposed. The words stirred something deep in you, a tension that you couldn’t easily shake. Why the hell was this so hard?

You swallowed, your throat dry as you opened your eyes slowly, careful not to make eye contact just yet. When you glanced over at him, you saw his eyes focused on you, waiting. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel the unspoken weight in the room. He needed your help—you—and you could see how vulnerable he was now. This wasn’t the same guy you sparred with or the one who got under your skin with his sarcastic remarks. No, this was Aki. Just… Aki.

You quickly averted your gaze, swallowing hard. “Sure,” you said, trying to force your voice to sound steady, but it came out a little too breathy. “I’ll clean it.”

You could barely make yourself move. You’d done worse than this before, cleaned far worse injuries, but the thought of it with him made your heart beat faster, your body flush with heat. You didn’t know if you could trust your hands to do the job without betraying how rattled you felt.

You stepped closer to the tub, the sight of him sitting there—half-covered in water, his muscles visible as he leaned back slightly—nearly made you lose your nerve. His skin was still damp, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. You could feel the tension in the air between you both, thick, suffocating.

Don’t look at the water.

You forced your gaze downward, focusing on his arm—the wound still oozing a little blood as you moved in closer. Your fingers brushed against his skin, cool from the water. He flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away.

“Hold still,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice from cracking.

You could feel the warmth radiating off his body, the faint scent of soap and sweat clinging to the air. He was so close—too close—and you couldn’t help but notice how his chest rose and fell with each breath, the soft steam from the water making the whole room feel hazy.

You pressed the cloth gently against the wound, but your fingers lingered on his skin longer than they should have, as if the touch was… necessary. You cursed yourself for the way your pulse sped up, for how his closeness made your body ache in ways you couldn’t ignore. You’d cleaned injuries a hundred times, but with him? It felt different. You couldn’t focus. Couldn’t push past the fact that he was sitting there—vulnerable, exposed—and you were the one tasked with cleaning his wound.

“It’ll sting,” you warned, though you weren’t even sure he was listening. Your mind was too wrapped up in the way your body was reacting to being near him. His arm was so warm beneath your touch, his skin firm yet yielding in a way that felt too intimate for the moment.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his voice calm but with an edge of something else. Was it tension? You couldn’t tell, and it made your stomach twist.

You cleaned the wound, as gently as you could, though your fingers trembled with the effort. You could feel him watching you, could almost sense the way he was reading your every movement. Every breath you took. Every shift in your body. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but the air seemed to thicken around you both, charged with something unspoken, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on to your control.

He’s showing a remarkable amount of self restraint, you thought. Last time you’d had a wound like this, you were practically howling the entire time.

Then, another thought – the man you were supposed to hate, the man you had just fucked, was sitting in your bathtub, allowing you to bathe his wounds with a tenderness that surprised you.

What the fuck even are we?

You couldn't stop the thoughts from swirling in your mind, a knot of confusion tightening in your chest. The whole situation felt wrong, yet... strangely right, too. He wasn’t just some soldier you had to patch up anymore. He wasn’t just the man you despised for the things he said or the things he did. He was here, vulnerable in your bathroom, and you were the one taking care of him. Your fingers, hesitant at first, were now moving with ease, pressing into his skin, and you realized you weren’t thinking about the situation, not really. You were just... doing. And yet, every movement felt like an invitation into something far more intimate than either of you had intended.

When you finished, you grabbed a towel from the counter and handed it to him without saying a word. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, and you caught the faintest glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Dry yourself off,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, not when your heart was hammering in your chest and your breath was shallow.

He nodded, taking the towel from you. You turned quickly, stepping out of the bathroom to give him some privacy. You needed space. You needed air.

You stood just outside the door, your back against the cool wall, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the chaotic rush of emotions you were feeling. You tried to focus on anything other than him—his warm skin, his quiet demeanor, the tension that had been building between you both for the past several hours.

But it didn’t help.

When the door opened, you weren’t prepared for what you saw.

Aki stepped out, wearing the pants you’d given him, but no shirt. The sight of him in the soft light of the bathroom was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. His torso was still damp from the water, the hard-earned muscles of his chest and abdomen visible beneath the sheen of moisture on his skin. The faintest hint of the scar on his side, the one you had never noticed before, caught your eye, but it was his eyes that had your full attention. Dark, intense, almost too intense.

Your mouth ran dry, your body frozen in place as you tried—and failed—to look away.

What the hell was wrong with you?

You weren’t supposed to feel this way about him. You weren’t supposed to look at him like this. But you couldn’t help it. The way his body filled out the pants, the way they hung low on his hips, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath—it was all too much, too real, too intimate.

"I think you’re going to need stitches. Is that… okay?" you managed to ask, your voice rougher than you wanted it to be.

Aki’s lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. You decided that you liked his smile, however uncanny it may have been. “You know how to give stitches?” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like he was savoring the sound of his own words. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the way your gaze lingered on him, which only made the situation worse. He leaned against your kitchen counter like he belonged there.

You nodded stiffly, swallowing hard. “Did some first aid training before I joined your division.”

Of course, you knew how to give stitches. You’d trained for it. But the idea of doing it now, with him standing in your kitchen, that was… different. You were suddenly acutely aware of the space between your bodies, the way the room seemed to shrink with each passing second.

You quickly turned toward the cupboard above the sink. Your fingers brushed against the cool metal handle, but your hand was shaking. Not much, but enough for you to notice. You pushed it open with more force than necessary and reached up to grab the first aid kit. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare acknowledge that he was watching you so intently.

The plastic of the kit felt cold in your hands as you set it down on the counter. You fumbled with the latch, your fingers trembling slightly as you worked it open. Why was your heart racing? Why did something as simple as getting a first aid kit feel like you were about to perform surgery in front of an audience? It was just stitches. You’d done it before, a few times, actually.

But this—this was different. It was him. It was the way your pulse seemed to flutter erratically in your chest, the way you couldn’t quite keep your breath steady.

You told yourself to focus, to just do it.

He needs your help.

With a deep breath, you pulled out the supplies, setting everything down carefully in front of him: the needle, the thread, antiseptic, gauze, and gloves. You avoided looking at Aki, focusing instead on organizing the items, your hands moving almost mechanically, trying to give yourself something to do that didn’t involve thinking about how close he was, about how his presence filled the entire room.

As you set everything out, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. He simply waited, as if this was a normal part of his evening routine.

It wasn’t normal. None of this was.

You tried to steady your breath, your heart hammering as you finally turned to face him. You kept your eyes on his injury, avoiding his eyes as best as you could. “I’m not gonna lie. This is gonna hurt,” you muttered, not entirely sure if it was the wound or your nerves that you were referring to.

Aki didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

You put on the gloves, the latex cool against your skin, and then grabbed the antiseptic. The bottle felt heavier than it should as you uncapped it, the strong scent of alcohol hitting your nose. The sting it would cause him would be nothing compared to the one in your chest.

Then, well, you got to work. The wound was much more gruesome up close, skin torn wide open. It made your stomach churn.

Focus.

You opened the small, sterile needle, letting the curved hook be exposed to the air. Then, reaching for the forceps, you grabbed the needle and thread.

You took a deep breath. Then, with a wince, you poked the needle into his skin and fed it through to the other side. Aki hissed as you did so. You wound the thread around the forceps and tied the first stitch off, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Aki’s eyes never left you. He was watching intently, his gaze unwavering, as you positioned the needle above the wound. You tried to keep your hands steady, your breath even. With another deep breath, you poked the needle through his skin, feeding it through to the other side. He hissed sharply at the sensation, his body flinching just a little, but he didn’t pull away.

You tugged the needle back through, your grip on the forceps firm as you tied off the first stitch. It felt like an eternity before you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening a fraction. He wasn’t making a sound beyond the brief hiss, but you could feel the discomfort in the way his muscles tensed beneath your hands.

“Good?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from checking.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice rough, the slightest trace of pain still lingering in his words. But there was no protest. No hesitation. Just a quiet, steady patience that made the weight of the situation feel even more intense.

You moved to the second stitch, carefully guiding the needle through his skin again. His eyes were glued to the wound, watching each movement you made with a calm, almost curious intensity. Every now and then, you could feel his gaze shift to your face, but you didn’t let it break your concentration.

With a gentle pull, you finished the second stitch, tying it off swiftly. Aki didn’t wince this time, not until you tugged the thread through the wound, and even then, the flinch was subtle, like he was trying to keep his composure. You could see the effort it took, but he didn’t falter.

“Pretty good at that,” Aki said suddenly, his voice quiet, almost approving.

You glanced up for a moment, surprised by the comment. You didn’t want to acknowledge how his voice sounded a little too smooth for comfort, how his presence seemed to fill the small kitchen.

“Thanks,” you replied, tying off the stitch before moving on to the next. The needle slid easily through his skin now, and the third stitch was in place before you could fully process the sensation.

Time seemed to stretch. The next few stitches came easier, almost mechanical, as you focused on the task at hand. The rhythmic motion of your hands, the way the needle went in and out, was strangely soothing. And yet, with every stitch, there was a weight building in the air��between the both of you.

Your movements slowed when you reached the final stitch, the last piece of thread to pull through. Aki’s silence was deafening now, his eyes still on you. There was a tension in the room that you could feel deep in your chest, and for the first time since starting, you let yourself glance up at him fully.

His hair was down, falling in messy strands around his face. His shirt was still nowhere to be seen, and in the dim bathroom light, his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, the muscles beneath his skin taut. He wasn’t saying anything now. Just watching you.

Your hand faltered slightly as you pulled the last stitch through, your focus shattered by the weight of his gaze. You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but you refused to let it show.

Just finish it, you told yourself, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the entire room.

With a swift, controlled movement, you tied off the final stitch. The wound was closed, the skin now held together neatly with the thread, and you exhaled in relief, not realizing how long you’d been holding your breath.

The silence stretched between you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. Aki didn’t say anything at first, and then—

“Why didn’t you go to med school?”

The question came out of nowhere, cutting through the tension. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.

“What?” you managed, your mind still spinning from the task at hand.

“Why Public Safety?” Aki repeated, his tone soft but curious. “You could’ve gone to med school, or something better. You’re obviously good at this.”

You stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was asking. He was still looking at you, his gaze intense, but now it was… different. Less patient and more searching. Like he was waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure he’d get.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound coming out breathier than you intended. You hadn’t realized just how absurd this entire moment was until the words left your mouth. A man who had just let you stitch him up, his shirtless form standing in front of you with barely a hint of discomfort, and now he was asking you why you chose this path? The path that, ultimately, led you here?

“I was never smart enough in the sciences,” you said, shaking your head lightly, your voice quieter now. “Couldn’t tell you what a molecular compound is to save my life.”

Truthfully, you had always wanted to be a doctor. When your parents passed away, you realized that the dream was totally unrealistic.

He smiled at you, expression softening, if only for a moment, “Bullshit. You’re too smart for this line of work.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you realized, almost belatedly, how strange all of this really was. The closeness, the tension, the rawness of the interaction.

“I thought I was a moron?” You asked.

“That’s only when you’re not listening to me,” He sighed. “I think your wits are the reason we butt heads so often.”

And then, just as you finished tying the final knot, you looked up at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You think I’m smart?” You grinned.

“Don’t push it.”

Aki was still staring at you, his hair falling in soft strands around his face, his eyes locked on yours. And for the first time since you started, you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the way he made you feel—how your heart beat faster in his presence, how your pulse surged at the intensity of his gaze.

You reached for the gauze, wrapping his entire upper arm in it and then tying that off, too. You cleared your throat and quickly stepped back, suddenly self-conscious. You couldn’t look at him now. Not after all of that.

“I’ll pull the couch out for you,” You sighed, putting the needle back into its sleeve and tossing the kit in the trash. You closed up the first aid kit and set it back in its place, “You’re not walking back home in that condition.”

“I’m fine, really–” Aki grumbled.

You shushed him (and forgot, for a moment, that he was your superior). He didn’t seem too angry about it though. Then, you guided him over to the couch, letting him plop down and flicking the TV on. Some sitcom you didn’t know the name of was on, its grainy laugh track fading into the background as you peered down at him.

He looked so pretty, you thought.

You finished cleaning the bathroom, your hands scrubbing away the remnants of blood and grime, the lingering scent of antiseptic filling the air. The tiles beneath your feet were cool, the harsh fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow across the room. You scrubbed the sink one more time, eyes flicking back to the door every few seconds, but Aki hadn’t moved from the couch. His presence lingered even though he was silent, a weight pressing down on your chest, not entirely unpleasant but still… unsettling.

Once the bathroom was spotless, you stood up, wiping your hands on the edge of your shirt, feeling a quiet satisfaction in the cleanliness. You took a deep breath, a sense of relief sweeping through you. It was strange how mundane things could feel so grounding, as if the normality of it all could erase the madness that had just occurred.

Stepping out into the living room, you glanced at Aki. He was sitting on the couch, slouched back with his eyes fixed on the television. The soft glow of the screen highlighted the faint bruise on his cheekbone, the bandaged arm resting across his lap. Despite the injury, he looked… surprisingly relaxed. You hesitated before walking toward him, the sound of laughter from the sitcom drifting through the air, but neither of you were really watching.

“Hey,” you said, voice a little softer than usual. “How’s the wound?”

He glanced at you briefly, his expression neutral but his eyes betraying the slightest glimmer of awareness. “It’s fine,” he muttered, the words half-hearted, as if he knew you weren’t really asking about his arm.

You moved closer, kneeling down next to him to inspect the gauze. Gently, you pressed your fingertips against the bandage, checking for any sign of discomfort. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and the closeness made your pulse quicken. You had to force yourself to focus, trying to push away the thoughts that lingered from earlier, the heat, the tension, the moment you had shared.

Aki didn’t move as you adjusted the gauze, his gaze still trained on the TV, though his lips twitched slightly, as if he were aware of the change in the air. You finished securing the bandage, your fingers lingering on the fabric just a second longer than necessary, but neither of you spoke. It was one of those moments, quiet and charged, where nothing needed to be said.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you straightened up and moved toward the kitchen, the hum of the sitcom filling the space between you. You grabbed a glass of water, the cold clarity of it a sharp contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind. You walked back over to him, the weight of the moment hanging between you, and offered him the glass.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere. The way he said it, with that quiet edge, made something tighten in your chest. It felt like more than just gratitude for the water, more than just thanks for the stitches. There was something else buried in his words, something unspoken, and it unsettled you.

You nodded, your fingers brushing his as he took the glass. The brief contact sent a jolt through you, and for a second, you found yourself frozen, watching him sip from the glass as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed. You were acutely aware of the way your body reacted to him, the way your breath felt shallow, how your chest tightened at every little movement. You sat down next to him, against your better judgement.

Aki set the empty glass down on the table beside him, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment. It was as if everything was finally coming to a head, the silence pressing against the both of you, thick with unspoken words. Neither of you said anything, but the weight of it hung in the air like a storm about to break.

You wanted to ask him what he was thinking, what he really wanted, but the words never came. Instead, you found yourself just standing there, looking at him, unsure of what to do next. Aki didn’t break the silence, his gaze now focused somewhere just past your shoulder, his body language still casual, as though he were completely unaffected by the tension that was slowly building between you two.

“We shouldn’t…” You finally broke the silence, your voice quieter than you expected “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” He sighed, weakly. “I didn’t know where else to go. I was closer to your apartment than the hospital,” A beat longer, and he was moving to get up. “I can leave.”

“No–” You reached out, stopping him with a gentle hand. “It’s just… we can’t…” You looked at him, “We probably shouldn’t be alone together.”

Aki’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he leaned in just a little closer. “Why not?”

The words felt heavy in the air, hanging between you like an unspoken challenge. You hesitated, your chest tightening, trying to gather your thoughts as his presence seemed to fill up all the space around you. “Because last time we were alone…” The words trailed off, your gaze flickering to his lips, and you found yourself utterly incapable of stopping the pull between you. The distance between your faces had closed, and every inch of him was so damn close. "We shouldn't be doing this. Not again."

Aki’s voice was a low murmur, barely a sound as he responded, “Probably not.” There was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you. The way his lips curled up slightly in that faint, almost smug smile. It was clear he wasn’t pulling back. No, there was something magnetic between you both, something unspoken, something undeniable. He can’t stay away, either, you thought. He wasn’t even trying to. Neither of you were.

And then, in a shared, unspoken agreement, you both leaned in. The kiss started slow, tentative, as if you both knew it was the kind of thing that would explode the moment it started. His lips were warm, soft, but there was something raw about the way he kissed you, something that made your breath hitch in your throat. His hands—how had they gotten there?—were suddenly on your skin, fingertips burning as they grazed your sides. The kiss deepened, a kind of desperation creeping in on both sides, as though neither of you could get close enough, couldn’t have enough.

In a fleeting second, you pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his, your chest rising and falling rapidly. We should talk about this, the thought crossed your mind, but it felt like a distant, useless thing to focus on now. What was the point of talking when the air between you was charged with something so much more powerful?

You broke away from him for just a second, but even as you spoke, you could feel your body leaning back in to his. “One thing will lead to another, and…” You gasped softly as his lips returned to yours, cutting off your words, but you couldn’t care less. Every kiss, every touch made it harder to think straight. Your body was already reacting, responding, melting into him.

“And your arm—you shouldn’t—” you tried to protest between kisses, but the words didn’t even make it out of your mouth properly. Every word was followed by another kiss, deeper, longer, and you found it harder to remember what you’d said just seconds before. Your hand slid to his chest, trying to push him back, but your fingers were trembling, betraying your resolve.

His voice, husky and full of need, broke through your thoughts. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Aki wasn’t playing games. There was no mask now, just him—desiring, wanting, needing.

Before you had the chance to respond, his hands were on you, pulling you closer, pushing you down onto the couch. The world seemed to blur, the only thing in focus was him—his lips, his hands, the warmth of his skin against yours. You melted beneath him, your body surrendering, your mind racing. He hadn’t even needed to ask.

You had wanted this just as badly.

This is dangerous… this is bad for me.

For both of us.

You broke the kiss, your voice barely a whisper against his lips, a breathless plea. “I don’t want you opening your stitches.” You knew it wasn’t practical—hell, it was a terrible idea, but the words left you anyway, as though you could push him back.

But Aki wasn’t listening. Instead, his lips trailed down your neck, a soft, almost reverent touch as he kissed along the sensitive skin. His hands were steady, unwavering as the kisses moved lower, gripping your hips with a force that made you gasp. There was a quiet urgency to him, like he knew he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. His kisses felt like an unspoken promise, like this moment was all that mattered.

Then, he moved lower, kissing the soft, bare skin around your belly button, your navel, your thighs…

We should talk about this.

You couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to stop him. Not as his kisses tore you apart at the seams, and certainly not when he pulled the loose fabric of your pajama shorts to the side, pressed a kiss to the top of your panties like he’d been longing for it.

You would make the same mistake twice if it meant you got to experience whatever this was one last time.

“Oh, God,” You sighed with bliss when he finally, finally kissed a little lower, right where you needed him.

Later, you thought. We’ll talk about it another time.

a/n: im gonna start calling myself the queen of blue balling honestly im sorry yall. LMFOAOAOAO BUT I PROMISE I HELD OFF FOR PLOT REASONSSSSS!!! we will start to see more of the p in pwp from here on out (but more spice too). im taking down kink requests, as this story will be taking a kinky approach!!! let me know what yall all thought, and i hope u have a lovelyyyy week!!! x

credits: einruji__ on twitter . I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

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jasperhaleobsessed · 3 days ago

Text

Finding out Alec Volturi is your mate part 2

Alec Volturi x F!Swan!Reader

To say the least you were worried. After leaving the Volterra you couldn't stop shaking. That look on Aro's face made your stomach sick. All you wanted was for things to go back to normal.

You laid in your bed with your hands in your hair. Stressing wasn't going to help and yet you felt anxious.

You tried to distract yourself by reading. It wasn't guaranteed to calm you but you hoped it would help anyways. You got up and went over to your Bookshelf and picked out Pride and Prejudice. You were in a dire of something happy and predictable.

You laid in your bed, trying to get comfortable and you snuggled with your stuff animals for some comfort. You read the first sentence, "is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife." Ah, yes Elizabeth and Darcy, you always liked this story. You'd read the book before and seen the many iterations & adaptions. You were a hopeless romantic, you couldn't help but love this story.

You took a deep breath and continued to read before you knew it you had finished the first chapter. You flipped to the next page and read, "Bennett was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley." You smiled to yourself as you felt a cold breeze around you. You sat down your book and placed your bookmark in. You sat your book to the side and went over to grab your warm sweater.

You felt a shiver go through your spine as you wrapped your sweater close to your body like a warm hug. You looked to your left and noticed the window was open. Weird. You thought you closed it before you left, perhaps your Dad opened it for some fresh air. The house did tend to get a bit stuffy now and then.

You went over to close it and snuggled down in your bed with your nose in a book. But, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. You got up again to look around.

You looked around your room. Nothing. "Just paranoid Y/N, take a deep breath." You tried to even your breathing and turned around towards your bed. You gasped at what you saw. Standing there was Alec. Before you could scream Alec covered your mouth and whispered, "Please don't scream, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to move my hand but do you promise to stay calm?"

When he moved his hand, you could help but ask, "What are you doing here? How? When?" You whispered. You tried to keep it down in case Charlie or Bella heard you. Bella wasn't exactly ecstatic about the while 'mate' thing whatever that meant. Nothing made any sense and you wished you had some answers. You could probably guess what it meant but everything that was happening overwhelming and confusing all you wanted was something stable, something normal, something safe.

You were starting to think going to Italy with Bella and Alice was a bad idea. You wanted to make sure Bella was safe and that she would be okay. As much as you were annoyed with certain aspects of Bella and Edwards relationship, he made her happy and lively. And it was hard seeing her so broken and you felt helpless seeing her like that. Which is why you went to make sure they made it out okay. The reason you went wasn't a bad idea, you knew that but that didn't change the fear you felt over everything.

He had a gentle smile playing on his lips and placed his index finger over your lip trying to calm your worry, "Shhh, it's okay love, I'm not going to hurt you, alright? I promise." He moved his finger away and placed his hands to his back. He seemed to do this out of respect for you, he understood you were confused and wanted answers therefore he did not want to make you more uncomfortable. He must have realized he should have thought of a better tactic than sneaking into room. That doesn't exactly scream 'I'm not gonna hurt you'

"I just wanted to see you, get to know you. And help you understand all of this. I'm sure your confused and scared but you have nothing to fear, I'd never hurt you."

"How do I know you won't? Your a vampire who feeds of human blood. Innocent people who've done nothing to you or anyone and yet they end up dead. And you say won't hurt me?" You argued.

"Because your my mate," He stated.

"What does that even mean?" You asked.

"It means that we're meant to be together. I know this is confusing but please, trust me."

"Ya think?" You looked away and let out a breath, "Bella's gonna kill me for this. I want to trust you, I do. Part of me wants to and is telling me I should but the other part of me can't."

He cupped your face, "Please," He pleaded with you.

"You know why I can't. We've just met, can't you understand why I can't?"

"I can, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to. I can understand why you don't, this is all new for you. Not only what happened in Italy but you've only recently found out about vampires, right?"

"Yes."

"I know your scared and I know you don't trust me but to trust me you have to let me in. Please give me a chance."

"Y/N dinner!" Charlie called for you. You turned away and yelled, "Coming Dad!" You turned back and he was gone. You sighed, "How am I supposed to trust someone who disappears?" You groaned, unsure of what the future held. But you knew one thing was for sure I'd either be really good or really bad.

Part 1

A/N: I think I'm gonna do a part 3, if anyone has any ideas of what I should do let me know! Feel free to spam my inbox if you have to I'm always interested in hearing your ideas. Not gonna lie I need help figuring out what I'm gonna do or how I'm gonna do it. Any advice please send it my way! Sorry, for taking forever for the 3rd part, I was meaning to but I was busy with asks when I posted the 1st part. I mean I still am but I really wanted to try to write a 2nd part. Also, this will be posted before the Jasper fic I'm working on since I posted the poll for this first. Requests are open so as always send it my way! Hope you all enjoy! <3

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princessofghosts-posts · 1 day ago

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Can we all talk about when Percy in Tartarus almost choked Akhlys on her own poison? Like,I know that Annabeth got scared of it and what he was doing and becoming in the moment,because that wasn't Percy at all,but the "some things must not be controlled" is totally bullshit. Every child of the Big 3 control an aspect of a calamity that shouldn't be controlled: lightning,sea,earth,air and death (Nico is the equivalent of Jesus and Satan both in PJO if we think enough about it). Being able to control dangerous things that "shouldn't being controlled" is literally in their divine blood.

The guy was trying to save both of them. He did give in to the darkness,but he was so tired of it,it's ok to snap when you are put under so much pressure from everybody you know. And yes,I get Annabeth's POV of it,but Percy was doing everything to survive there,he was risking no matter what,you don't need to make him feel bad about wanting to survive in hell. You needs to adapt sometimes,especially when the situation is so extreme,not everything is black and white,there is a lot of grey too.

Percy's power evolved because of the needs to protect himself and Annabeth in there,mixed with the high level of stress while trying to remain sane,and the worries about making it back or not. That whole speech was uncalled for (like most things that Annabeth did in Tartarus) and she could have handled better the situation no matter how scared she was. Look at Reyna,she is extremely scared of ghosts because of her past but didn't want to make Nico aware of that,and consoled him after he killed Bryce without a second thought. Was she scared? Yes. Did she made Nico feel guilty about protecting them and using his powers to do so? No,she was greatful to him and understood that he needed to,if they wanted to come back to a successful quest. That's exactly how Annabeth should had reacted to Percy and Akhlys.

And let's be honest,Nico and Percy should had a conversation about what they went through in there,especially because their powers evolved and are stronger than before,at the end of BoO. If not alone then with Dionysus as a therapist because they both need it after that hell. Nico would have a crash out hearing about that speech (since his powers go against the law of nature itself) and would make Percy understand that there is nothing wrong with what he did.

Percy is a survivor. He was surviving in Tartarus and sometimes surviving requires doing bad things and it doesn't matter if in the long run,those same bad things take you out of dangerous situations. He survived. That's the important. Also,poison is still a liquid,so no matter how strange is,Percy can still control it because his power can and it's completely normal for him to do so.

I'm honestly disappointed in Annabeth for this,especially when part of what she said influenced Percy so bad that decided to not fight Polybotes's poison and die in his father's domain. And other than the talk he had with Jason after it,it's never mentioned again and he and Annabeth don't talk abou it. Which isn't ok.

The fandom forget about it all the time when it cames to their dynamic,but yes guys,Annabeth almost killed Percy with her reasoning,let's address it more often ok? Everyone who think what she said didn't contribute to his actions is dead wrong,they were almost co-dipended in everything during HoO and Percy was already doubting his powers before Tartarus: he already was scared of them and scared of drowning. Annabeth made it only worse for him. And it's never addressed,as if it never had consequences.

A talk with Nico would have helped him understanding that yes,it's normal what he did and he has a right to it,since poison is still a liquid: that's a part of his power,like raising the dead is to Nico,no metter how strange or "ugly" it is. He was surviving,he needed to use everything he could use to make it back alive,and he did. And if it's coming from the guy who's powers literally proves Annabeth's "you can't control some things" is stupid and wrong,especially when it cames to Big 3 children,then it has more effect.

But we never got to have that too.

Justice for Percy,he deserve better than this.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus #nico di angelo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #reyna avila ramirez arellano #children of the big 3 #powerfull nico di angelo #powerfull percy jackson #their power both evolved in Tartarus #the whole “you can't control some things” speech is bullshit #especially when you apply it to children of the big 3's powers #they are on a different scale #we were robbed of a nico and percy conversation about it at the end of HoO #disappointed in annabeth #percy almost died for what she said and no one talks about it #justice for percy #percy deserve better

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whosscruffylooking · 19 hours ago

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Open Arms Chapter Eight

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 4.5k a/n: so sorry it's taken me so long to update this. Warnings: Canon typical violence. Mentions of kidnapping. Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1985~

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“Alright, what is it, Harrington?” Robin leans casually on the counter, the cheerful jingle of Scoops Ahoy far too chipper for Steve’s mood.

“Nothing,” he mutters, eyes glued to the counter.

“Oh, come on,” she groans. “You’re practically brooding. Spill it.”

“I… I—” Steve runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I saw some stuff at Y/N’s place, and it made me realize… a few things.”

“Like what? Did you find her secret stash of Playgirl?” Robin teases, her grin wide.

Steve’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. “Wait, does she read those?”

“No, Steve, she doesn’t,” Robin sighs dramatically. “For some reason, you’re the only male who can even remotely make her look twice.”

Steve stares at her, still puzzled, but his expression changes. “Well, I found these flyers… college flyers. All from out of state. Big schools. Places where people actually go somewhere.” He sighs, but it’s a hollow sound. “And here I am, a guy who couldn’t even get into Tech. I’m just… holding her back.”

Robin hops up onto the counter beside him, her feet swinging. “Okay, first of all, you’re not holding her back. She’s not a kite, Steve. She’s a person with her own life and her own goals. If she wants to go, she’s gonna go.”

Steve shakes his head, slumping a little. “Yeah, that’s the point. She will go, and I’ll just be… here. Slinging ice cream and pretending like I’ve got this ‘charming burnout’ thing under control. She’s got a future, Rob. A real one. Not like this.”

Robin tilts her head, studying him carefully. “You’re each other’s future, Steve. Do you really think she’d just forget about that?”

He exhales like he’s trying to push the words out before they can choke him. “I don’t know why she’d see me as that. Not with everything she could have.”

Robin crosses her arms, but there’s a gentleness in her expression now. “Because you’re Steve Harrington. And somehow, despite all odds, you managed to land a girl who’s smart enough to know exactly what you’re worth.”

He lets out a scoff, but Robin’s not done yet.

“You’re not just some guy handing out waffle cones. You’re the guy who drives across town at midnight when her car dies in the rain. You’re the guy who memorizes her favorite records so you can surprise her. You’re the guy who—” Robin pauses, her voice turning a little softer, “—makes her happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

Steve stares at some distant point, his gaze fixed on nothing. “She deserves more than this. She’ll find it. She’ll find someone who can actually meet her where she’s going in life, and realize I’m just… not it.”

Robin’s hand lands on his arm, steadying him with unexpected compassion. “Hey.” She leans in a little, her voice gentler but firm. “She loves you. And if you love her—which, trust me, you do—then you don’t get to decide you’re not good enough for her. That’s her call. And guess what? She’s already made it.”

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You stayed up all night, your thoughts a whirlwind of how to fix things with Steve. It’s your day off, and you’re determined to make things right. So, when the phone rings, you’re ready for something to break the cycle of self-doubt. It’s Dustin on the other end, fresh back from summer camp and brimming with energy.

“I’m back!” he exclaims the excitement in his voice like a spark of light in the fog of your thoughts.

The idea hits you in an instant. You’ll pick up Dustin, drive him to the mall, and surprise Steve. The ultimate peace offering. A plan that, with Dustin’s unpredictable charm, is bound to work.

At the mall, you and Dustin lurk behind the bushes in the food court, your eyes scanning the back of Steve’s head. He’s hunched over, looking more solemn than usual, and it sends a knot through your stomach.

“Damn, what did you do to him?” Dustin mutters, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Shut up,” you whisper, nudging him to stay quiet. “That’s what you’re here for.”

Taking a steadying breath, you walk toward Steve. Dustin lingers behind, his curiosity barely contained. You approach quietly, your steps light, then cover Steve’s eyes with your hands from behind.

“Guess who?”

“The love of my life.” Steve’s voice isn’t full of the usual warmth, but rather a tinge of pleading, like he’s reminding you of everything good between you, hoping you’ll see it too.

Your heart twinges at the sound of his hurt. He turns gradually to face you, his expression a mix of relief and uncertainty.

“I missed you,” you mumble, stepping closer. Your lips meet his, soft but cautious, neither of you daring to go further just yet.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you whisper against his lips, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I really do want to talk about it. But, for now, I brought you something. A peace offering. An olive branch, if you will.”

You give him a tentative smile. His eyes enlarge, a glimmer of hope lighting up his face.

“No…” His voice drops, a spark of realization creeping into his expression. “Is it—”

Before he can finish, a familiar chuckle cuts through the moment.

“Henderson!” Steve’s face breaks into a grin, his voice filled with pure joy. “Henderson! He’s back!”

“I’m back!” Dustin echoes, jumping in with the same uncontainable enthusiasm. He steps forward, practically beaming. “You got the job!”

“I got the job!” Steve shouts, practically leaping into the air.

The two of them meet in the middle, hands raised in celebration, only to fall into their signature handshake—a bizarre fusion of fist bumps and lightsaber duels that somehow works every time.

Watching them, Robin’s dry voice cuts through the laughter, her face completely serious. “How many children is he friends with?” she asks, eyeing you with a level of disbelief.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension easing for the first time that day. Steve’s excitement is infectious, even if there’s still a faint edge to his demeanor. You settle into the booth, but Steve, ever so subtly, keeps just a fraction of space between the two of you. It stings, but you tell yourself it’s nothing.

Dustin, on the other hand, fills the silence between you with tales of his summer adventures, leaning in with enthusiasm. He seems especially proud of his new girlfriend, a subject that Steve, not unkindly, seems to dismiss.

“No way,” Steve scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. “Hotter than Phoebe Cates?”

You shoot him a pointed glare, and he immediately backpedals, realizing his mistake.

“Uh—that’s impossible because only Y/N is hotter than Phoebe Cates,” he clears his throat, the change in tone unmistakable.

“Good boy,” you mutter softly, a smile tugging at your lips. His body shifts at the compliment, just slightly, the smallest sign of unease that doesn’t escape you.

Dustin keeps going, blissfully unaware, recounting his summer exploits with fervor. “Well, uh,” Steve mumbles, shaking his head, clearly trying to find his footing.

“We’re proud of you, pal, that’s…it’s uh…really romantic,” you quip, biting back a laugh. The words hang in the air, an inside joke you’re both aware of but can’t quite get past.

“So, where are the other knuckleheads?” Steve asks, his voice an odd mix of casual curiosity and something else—something you’re still trying to figure out.

“They ditched me,” Dustin answers, mouth full of ice cream. “Can you believe that shit?”

“Whoa,” Steve leans forward, surprised. “Seriously?”

“But they’re going to regret it when they don’t get to share in my glory.” Dustin’s grin is wide, his energy uncontainable.

“What glory?” you ask, a raised eyebrow your only response.

“So, last night, we’re trying to get in contact with Suzie…” Dustin trails off dramatically.

“Oh,” Steve’s face shifts at the mention of Suzie, his enthusiasm palpable yet controlled. It makes you laugh, just a little, at how predictable they are.

“And, uh…I intercepted a secret Russian communication,” Dustin continues, voice lowering to a near whisper.

“Huh?” You lean forward, caught off guard.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication,” he repeats, but this time, the words are nearly indecipherable.

“Just speak louder,” Steve grumbles, growing annoyed.

“I INTERCEPTED A SECRET RUSSIAN COMMUNICATION!” Dustin shouts, too loudly, causing both you and Steve to jolt forward, hands raised in a frantic hush.

“Jeez, shh. Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought you said,” Steve lowers his voice, shaking his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement despite the tension.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” you say, standing up, sensing the gravity of the situation and the need to step out before everything gets too complicated. “I fought demon hounds last year, I’m not about to fight evil Russians this year.”

Steve watches you leave, his gaze lingering for just a second, as though he’s trying to find the words that have been sitting in his chest, unsaid. His fingers twitch at his side, wishing he could reach out, wishing he could make things right in a way that would finally make you believe in him.

“So what does this mean?” Steve turns back to Dustin, his tone a little more serious now.

“It means we could be heroes, Steve,” Dustin says, leaning in with a sense of importance. “True, American heroes. Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Y/N, but all those times you told me you wanted to prove to her that you can give her the life you both want in the future, this could be your chance!”

Steve looks over to where you just were, conflicted. This is his chance to show you he’s not just some guy who slings ice cream and hopes to be more. To prove he can be the one who stands beside you—not behind you, not left behind, but beside you in everything that’s to come. That he’s more than any college scholar or athlete who could chase after you. He wants to be the one who stands up, who fights for you.

He approaches you carefully, his hand brushing your arm just enough to draw your attention.

"We’ll talk later… but right now, I’ve got important matters to attend to.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes — resolve mixed with a hint of boyish excitement — and before you can form a reply, he’s already moving.

“Steve—”

But he’s gone, pulling Dustin by the arm as they disappear into the back room of Scoops.

You exhale, glancing around the now-quiet space. Robin raises an eyebrow, her arms crossed as she leans against the counter.

“Well,” you say, awkwardly adjusting your bag, “I’m gonna leave them to… whatever that was.”

“And what exactly are you leaving them to?” Robin asks dryly.

“Something about espionage, I think?” You shrug, offering a half-hearted wave before turning to wander off into the mall.

“Espionage,” Robin repeats under her breath, shaking her head. “Right. Sure.”

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It’s been hours — too many hours — and still no sign of Steve. No call, no visit. By the time you pull into the mall parking lot, the place is nearly empty, lights flickering off in store windows as closing time approaches.

Scoops Ahoy is dark inside, but faint voices carry from the back room. Without hesitation, you push the door open.

The moment you step inside, Steve jumps to his feet like you’ve caught him red-handed.

“Y/N!” He’s in front of you before you can take another step, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, like he’s trying to block your view.

Behind him, Robin’s perched at the table with a pen in hand, a recorder playing something distorted and garbled. She barely looks up.

“Okay,” you start, crossing your arms tightly, “so you leave in a hurry last night without letting me explain, then today you barely even look at me, and now I find you holed up back here with her?”

Steve’s face falls. “No — no, that’s not… that’s not what this is.”

“I just thought…” You exhale sharply, forcing your voice to steady. “I thought we’d talk tonight. Clear the air. But instead, you’re ‘working late’ with Robin?”

His shoulders sag like he’s run out of excuses — or maybe the energy to make them.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he says, quieter now. “Dustin… Dustin really did intercept some kind of Russian message. We’ve been trying to translate it all day.”

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Then let me translate it.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. “I just… I know you wanted to stay out of anything life-threatening this time.” His words are careful, but the truth sits just behind them — he wants to prove himself.

“You’re making this sound really sketchy,” you warn, frustration bubbling up.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Dustin’s voice cuts in, startling you. He’s suddenly beside you, balancing a greasy bag of food court Chinese in one hand, “But honestly, you did make it sound like you were sneaking around with Robin. Don’t worry though, I was here the entire time.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Steve groans.

“The whole time,” Dustin says through a mouthful of noodles. He pauses to chew. “We didn’t even want Robin’s help — she just kinda… forced her way in.”

Robin waves from the table without looking up.

“Well,” you sigh, “I wanna take a look.”

“You speak Russian?” Dustin asks, eyes wide like you’ve just revealed you’re secretly royalty.

“I took it in ninth and tenth grade,” you say with a shrug.

Dustin presses a hand to his heart. “I just want you to know that, even though I’m in a committed relationship now, you will always be my first love.”

You step over to Robin’s side. “What’ve you got so far?”

“I think I’m finished,” Robin says, handing you a napkin scrawled with messy notes.

You scan the page, tracing the words with your finger. “Not bad,” you admit. “Your phonetics are solid, but this word, you have it sounded out like — ohstohrozhno — it should actually be pronounced ah-sta-ROZH-na.” You write it out in Cyrillic: осторожно. “It means ‘carefully.’ So ‘tread lightly’ works too, and that makes this phrasing… a lot more cryptic if this is a code.”

Robin’s eyebrows lift. “Wow… okay. That’s impressive.”

Steve’s smile flickers, but it falters just as fast. Another reminder that you’re always a step ahead — always smarter, quicker, better.

Robin glances at him and smirks. “I see what you mean about her,” she teases. “She’s brilliant.” Then she looks back at you. “So… what exactly are you doing with Steve Harrington?”

You laugh, but the sound falters when you catch Steve’s face, that half-smile gone completely now.

The four of you spill out of Scoops Ahoy, the last stragglers in the mall. The air feels oddly still, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Steve pulls down the gate with a rattle of metal and locks it with a sharp click.

You linger nearby, watching him. He stands there a moment longer than necessary, eyes fixed on you like there’s something he can’t quite say.

“Well,” he mutters at last, “so much for being American heroes. This is total nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Dustin fires back, his voice echoing through the empty corridor. “It’s too specific — it’s gotta be a code. Like, a super-secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch,” Steve counters, shaking his head.

“I don’t know… I kind of agree,” you say.

Steve’s face twists in disbelief. “Oh, come on. You’re buying into this too?”

“If it is a secret Russian transmission,” Robin cuts in, “what do you think they’d say? ‘Fire the warhead at noon?’ Why would they bother hiding the message if it wasn’t something sensitive?”

You turn to agree, but Steve’s no longer beside you. He’s wandered off, standing by a mechanical rocking horse near the arcade.

“Steve?” you call.

He doesn’t look up. “Uh… it only takes quarters. I need a quarter.” His voice is oddly serious.

You blink at him, bewildered, but fish one out of your pocket and pass it over.

Steve drops the coin in the slot. The horse jerks to life, creaking forward as a tinny, cheerful tune begins to play — loud enough to bounce off the mall’s glass storefronts.

Steve’s gaze snaps to you, wide-eyed, like he’s just uncovered the Holy Grail.

“You need help getting up there, little Stevie?” Robin teases, grinning.

You roll your eyes, ignoring her. Steve’s bizarre logic is turning over in your mind like puzzle pieces sliding into place.

Then it hits you.

“Holy sh—” Your words trail off as you spin toward Dustin, waving urgently. “Give me the recording!”

Dustin fumbles with his bag, digging out the tape. You snatch it from him, crouching beside Steve as you hit play.

The melody, the exact same one playing from the horse, pours through the speaker, distorted but unmistakable. The two songs line up almost perfectly, one echoing the other.

You lean in without thinking, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Oh, you are a genius!”

Steve freezes, stunned into silence. But pride swells in your chest and in his too, even if he’s too surprised to show it.

“I don’t get it,” Robin says, stepping closer.

“Steve figured it out,” you explain, still smiling. “The song on the recording… it’s this horse’s song.”

“Maybe they have the same horses in Russia,” Robin suggests.

Steve scoffs quietly, still watching the rocking horse. “Indiana Flyers?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” His eyes lift to meet yours, something more serious lingering there.

“This code…” He exhales sharply, voice low. “It didn’t come from Russia.” He pauses, the truth settling between you.

“It came from here.”

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The next day, Steve and Dustin stake out in the food court, huddled behind a cluster of fake plants. Steve peers through a pair of binoculars, scanning the mall like a man on a mission. He sweeps his gaze across the bustling crowd before landing on the record store — or rather, the empty space behind the counter where you should be.

“Have you seen Y/N today?” he asks, lowering the binoculars.

Dustin gives him a sideways look. “You haven’t talked to her? Dude, you guys are inseparable. What the hell?” He jabs Steve’s arm with his elbow.

“I just… I needed a little space, that’s all,” Steve mutters.

Dustin’s brows lift knowingly. “Is this because she’s looking at colleges?”

Steve lets the binoculars hang limply from his neck. “She’s looking at schools out of state,” he mumbles.

“Okay… and?”

“I just…” Steve drags a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’m holding her back.”

Dustin groans. “Here we go again. Come on, man. This is not the Steve Harrington who dated every girl like he was the prize. Where’s your confidence?” He pauses, softening. “You love each other. College isn’t gonna change that.”

Steve shakes his head. “She’s the prize, man. And I don’t want to screw this up.” He hesitates, voice quieter now. “I—I think I want to ma—”

Before he can finish, a hand clamps down on his shoulder. Steve jumps, spinning around to face your boss.

“Have you seen Y/N?” the man asks, frowning.

Steve blinks, caught off guard. He awkwardly stands from his hiding spot behind the plastic ferns. “I… uh… I thought maybe she was on break. That’s why she wasn’t in the store.”

Your boss shakes his head. “She clocked in this morning but hasn’t been seen since.”

Steve’s stomach twists. He glances at Dustin, panic flickering behind his eyes. Without another word, they rush past your boss and sprint back to Scoops Ahoy, nearly colliding with a customer as they push through the door.

Robin is hunched over the counter, scribbling furiously in her notebook.

“I’m so close to cracking this,” she groans, dragging her pen across the page. “I just can’t figure out what ‘the silver lynx’ means…”

“Robin,” Steve interrupts, his voice tight. He snatches the phone off the wall and punches in your home number. The line rings… and rings… and rings. No answer.

“What’s going on?” Robin asks, straightening.

“Y/N’s missing,” Dustin says flatly.

Robin’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Her boss said she clocked in but hasn’t been seen since this morning,” Steve says, gripping the phone like it might break in his hand. “We need access to the security cameras.”

“Oh sure,” Dustin snorts. “I’ll just waltz up to the security office and ask for the footage. They’ll love that. Real easy.”

Robin smirks. “I might have an idea…”

Robin leads Steve and Dustin through the winding corridors behind the stores, a maze of dull concrete walls and flickering overhead lights. The hum of the mall’s air conditioning drones above them as they approach the security office.

“Alright,” Robin whispers, stopping just before the door. “Here’s the plan — Steve, you’re gonna go in there and charm the guy.”

“Charm?” Steve echoes, eyebrows shooting up. “That’s your big idea?”

“I've seen the way he looks at the male jazzercise instructor….trust me. Charm will go a long way. And besides, you’re the guy who used to strut around this place like you owned it,” Robin reminds him. “I’m pretty sure you can sweet-talk one bored security guard.”

“I don’t know…” Steve mutters. “What if I can’t—”

“Oh my God, just unbutton your shirt or something,” Robin snaps.

Steve glares at her, but reluctantly undoes the top few buttons of his Scoops Ahoy uniform.

“You’re disgusting,” he says flatly.

“And you’re welcome,” she replies with a grin.

Dustin leans closer. “And what are we doing?”

Robin smirks. “We’re going to make a little… distraction.”

Steve exhales sharply and steps through the door.

Inside, the security guard, a middle-aged man with a mustache and a Styrofoam cup of coffee, barely looks up from his magazine.

“Can I help you?” he asks, voice dull.

“Yeah, hey!” Steve grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Listen, I’m having a bit of a… situation with my girlfriend.” He glances over his shoulder as if someone might overhear. “I think she’s mad at me. I was hoping you could help me out… you know, check the cameras so I can figure out where she went?”

The guard barely spares him a glance. “Can’t do that, kid. Mall policy.”

“Come on, man,” Steve says, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. “You’d really be saving me here. She’s… she’s a total knockout, and if I mess this up?” He winces dramatically. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

The guard’s expression doesn’t budge. “Still no.”

Steve grits his teeth. “Okay… what if I—”

Suddenly, the emergency exit alarm blares down the hall. The guard shoots to his feet, muttering curses under his breath.

“What the hell—”

“I’ll check it out for you!” Steve offers quickly, but the man’s already bolting out the door.

Steve waits until the sound of the guard’s footsteps fades, then gestures frantically for Robin and Dustin. They burst through the door just as Steve slides behind the desk.

“Nice work, Harrington,” Robin teases.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just find the footage,” Steve mutters, flipping switches until the grainy black-and-white monitors flicker to life.

“There!” Dustin points to one of the screens.

The footage flickers, grainy and washed out in shades of gray. Steve’s eyes lock onto the screen the second your face appears. There you are, opening the back door to the record store. He feels a flicker of relief — you look calm, unharmed — but it vanishes just as quickly. A man in a delivery uniform hands you a package.

“Okay… okay…” Steve mutters under his breath, watching your every move like he can will the footage to change.

You don’t close the door. Instead, you lean out, watching the man as he walks away. Then you vanish back inside the store.

“Where are you going?” Steve whispers, his fingers tightening around the desk. He doesn’t notice how hard he’s gripping it, and doesn’t feel Robin’s hand resting on his shoulder.

Then you reappear — no package in hand — and start following the delivery man.

Steve’s chest tightens.

“Why would she follow him?” Robin asks, her voice quiet.

“She’s not stupid,” Steve snaps, but his eyes stay glued to the screen. What were you thinking?

Robin changes the feeds as you move down the back corridors. Steve’s pulse pounds in his ears. The walls on the screen blur in his vision, but he doesn’t blink. You’re ducking into doorways whenever the man turns around, staying just out of sight. He almost feels proud…you’re smart and careful, but the tension in his chest coils tighter.

“Come on… come on…” he murmurs.

The feed switches again. You’re out by the loading docks now, hiding behind a stack of crates. The man stands with two others, their conversation too far away to hear. One of them glances in your direction.

“Don’t move,” Steve begs. “Don’t move.”

You duck, just in time. Steve exhales, gripping the desk so hard his knuckles go white.

“They’re leaving,” Dustin points out. “She’s fine… she’s—”

You step out from your hiding spot too soon. The door swings open again, and Steve’s stomach drops.

“No,” he chokes out.

You turn to run, but they’re too fast. One of them grabs your arm. You twist free, slamming your elbow into his ribs and kicking the second man hard enough that he stumbles back. For a second…a fleeting, impossible second, Steve thinks you might break free.

“Yes!” Dustin cheers.

But then the second man snags your wrist, yanking you back before you can break away. You thrash in his grip, landing a sharp kick to his shin. Steve’s heart jolts with hope —

“Come on,” he urges. “Come on, baby… you can do this…”

There are too many of them and they're too strong. You fight harder than Steve’s ever seen, but it’s not enough. One of them pins your arms, and the other grabs something from his pocket —

“No… no, no, no…” Steve breathes.

You struggle for another second before your body falters. Your legs buckle. Your head lolls against your captor’s shoulder, limp and lifeless.

Steve’s chair scrapes back violently as he jumps to his feet.

“We have to go,” he says, his voice shaking. “We have to go now.”

“Steve,” Robin starts, but he’s already halfway to the door.

“You don’t get it,” he snaps over his shoulder, voice cracking. “They have her.”

And he’s gone, shoving his way through the mall with only one thought in his head — get to you before it’s too late.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

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#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #open arms au #joe keery #joe keery imagines #joe keery x reader

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