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fl3shm4id3n · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐲��𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧.

ꜰɴᴀꜰ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏxʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ꜰᴏxʏ x ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

Tw: Spoilers? Missing children, child abduction, mentions of death, FNAF stuff, slight mental illness, mentions of getting committed, a bit emotional with an almost good ending?

A/N: I choose Foxy because he is my favorite both in the game and movie. Hope ya'll like this fic.

Masterlist

You were just gone for a moment, you had to use the bathroom, you thought that he'd be okay with the other kids. When you came out, he was nowhere to be seen. You looked for him everywhere, in the arcade, the ball pit, the bathroom. Then you heard that other kids also went missing. The police got called, you told your mom what happened. You were growing scared and desperate to find your brother. But weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. The police just stopped looking because they didn't find anything. No suspicious activities or of that sort. No one was found and they didn't even find one single body. It was as if they vanished like thin air. But you? You didn't stopped, you didn't plan on stopping until you found what happened to your brother.

Not only that, but your dreams got all sorts of weird. You had always dreamt of the same thing. You were at the Pizzeria, stepping out of the restroom, wearing the same clothes as you did that day, except the place would get darker and more sinister. The people around you have become faceless and the music sounded much more dimer. You'd spot your brother for a moment, then he'd vanish into thin air. Every time that would happen, you'd call out to him. Screaming his name around the pizzeria. You'd also hear a voice, it sounded robotic. It would always spell out something that you couldn't quite catch. But there were some letters that you could make out. 'C...O...M...E... F...I...N...D M...E...'. You were never able to hear it clearly, it sounded like a broken cassette tape. Then you'd wake up. The dream went on for years, you never really dreamt of anything else. If you did, it would always be something that happened in your childhood, evolving your brother. A lot has changed since he turned out missing.

Now it was the early 2000's, you were already an adult. Working a nine to five job at a Target at the mall and living with your mom still. That early morning, you've woken up from that dream. Again, that same dream. You walking out the bathroom, still wearing that outfit you wore that day and the place was full of faceless people and that music. God that music made shivers run down your spine. You did what you'd always do, look for your brother. It always ended with with you entering the main lobby, near the small single stage. And again, that voice. 'C...O...M...E... F...I...N...D M...E...'. You never could make out what he was saying. Then you'd wake up. You didn't understand it. You never understood it. You got ready for work. You put on your red polo shirt with your name tag and your light brown kaki pants. Before you left the room, you looked at a picture sitting in your night stand. It was of you and your brother, on his birthday. You remembered that summer how he had a pirate themed birthday party. He loved pirates. You remember how he would walk around with a black eyepatch and a hook on his right hand. You would even play with him when your mom would be out working late. You always choose to be a mermaid or the villain in his games. You missed those times.

Besides that, you never really planned on going to school for anything. That was the last thing you would be worried about. So you decided to work, maybe save up enough money to maybe hire a private investigator or someone who can help you find something. Now you were at work, doing what you'd normally do. Just helping customers and ringing them out. It was just a regular day. It felt slower than most days. You heard from your coworkers that a security guard got fired, before he punched a guy who he mistook as a kidnapper. If you were in his situation, you'd probably do the same. Now a-days you didn't know who you could trust or you couldn't even look away from a moment because something could happen with a blink of an eye. It was understandable, at least to you.

You've been invited to do things with your coworkers, except you've declined. Always telling them that you were busy or you just didn't feel like going out. It was hard for you to make friends, you had basically isolated yourself from everyone when your brother turned up missing. You never really tried to make friends again. This worried your mom. Since you'd only go to work, go home, eat and sleep. It was a repeated cycle. She had talked to you about going to see a therapist. But you always declined. You didn't want to go and talk to somebody about how after many years you're still on the hunt for your brother. They'll probably medicate you or get you committed into an asylum. You you avoided that topic.

After work, you were back home. In your room, looking through your book. This book had news paper articles, along with police reports, pictures and other things that you've kept for years. This was your kind of evidence that you kept. You'd study these stuff day and night, for the last couple of years. You never gave up. Not only that, but you've tried asking the owner of the place 'William Afton' if you could go into the place to investigate, except the guy never picked up the phone or responded to your letters. You've even tried to get the job as a security guard, but Steve Raglan, who was a career counselor didn't give you the job. He'd always say that. 'It wasn't good for your mental health' or that 'He needs someone who's more calm and collected'. What he probably meant was that he needed someone who wasn't crazy.

You were busy looking at the old, now yellow news paper. Re-reading the article about the missing kids. You've read it many times by now, you might even memorize it. Then you heard someone knock at your door, then they came in. It was your mom. Who had a face of worry. "Y/n? Have you ate anything?" She asked, looking over you saw that she still had her work uniform on, she must have got back. "No, not yet." You responded, then she got closer. Seen what you were reading. She let out a sigh, as if she was exhausted of some kind. "Again? Y/n, we've been over this." She said, then you looked over at her. "I know, but... I just got to find something." You added to her.

She looked at you, seen the dark circles under your eyes. Indicating that you didn't get much sleep. "Baby, it's been years." She said, while looking at you. "You just... have to accept that he isn't coming back." She said sadly, as if she didn't want to say it, but she did. "I know... I just... want to know what happened to him.. or at least who took him.." you added in defense. Your mom then fidgeted with your hair a bit, as if she was fixing it. "So do it, but... you have to stop this obsession. It's not good for you." She said to you. It went silent for a moment, then your mom let out a small sigh. "I'll get dinner started, I'll come to get you in a bit." She said, giving you a small squeeze to your shoulder and she left your room. You sighed, placing your hands on your cheeks and leaned on the desk. Trying to think of what your mom said. Then you looked at picture sitting on the night stand for a moment. After a whole silent minute, you got up from the desk and went into the kitchen where your mom was, to help her with dinner.

You were at the food court, you had taken your lunch break, now you were heading back. You weren't watching where you were going and you've bumped into somebody. Making them drop a book of theirs. "Shit, I'm sorry." You said, picking up the old looking small book with the title which read 'Dream Theory'. Interesting. "It's alright." He said, then you handed the book to the guy. He was cute. He had messy brown hair and slightly tired eyes. The same description as the security guy who got fired.

"Are you... the guy who got fired from security?" you asked him. He had a look of embarrassment, but he nodded. "Yeah, that's me." He said. It was quiet for a moment, but you spoke again. "What you did was understandable." You said, making him look at you with his eyes slightly wide by your words. "You think so?" He asked. "Yeah, now a-days, you don't even know people's intentions or motives. I would have probably done the same if I were you." You explained. He only nodded at your words, at least someone also thought like him. "Well, I better go, hopefully I'll see you around." You said with a small smile. He nodded and returned the smile. Afterwards, you headed back towards your work place, while he also left to his destination.

You were back home, counting the money you kept in a shoebox underneath your bed. It was enough to fire an investigator, but you knew that you'll need more. This would probably cover the bear bare minimum. It was frustrating. You've spent a whole year saving, yet it didn't feel like it was enough. You knew that you should have got a job sooner, than later. Again, you went through the same old articles and pictures. Trying to find something again. But nothing, it was the same old thing. The same words and the same people in the pictures. Of kids playing around the arcade and one of a person dressed as a yellow bunny. That was odd, you don't remember that bunny at the pizzeria. When was he added? When you looked at the picture of him posing with a girl with blonde hair in pick tails, it felt creepy in a way. Almost unsettling. You didn't really notice this picture or you probably didn't notice it at first.

It was another day, you were in the register, ringing people out. You sighed, in exhaustion. Your feet were hurting and time felt much slower than usual. Another costumer came to the register. You gave them the best smile. "Hello-" you were cut off guard, seen that it was that guy you met the other day. "Oh, it's you. Find everything alright?" You asked him, like you'd normally asked every costumer. You scanned the box of crayons and paper, along with a few things he had in his basket. "Yeah, thanks." He said, while grabbing his wallet. "Found a job yet?" You asked him, out of politeness. "If you haven't, I'm sure you could send in your application." You said. "I actually already did, but thank you for the offer." He responded. You nodded, as you placed the items in a white plastic bag with the red Target logo. "What did you find? If you don't mind me asking." You asked him. "A security guard, at some pizzeria. The pay isn't good, but it's something." He explained.

This caught your curiosity. "Really? What pizzeria?" you asked, putting the packet of bacon in the bag. "It's called, I think. Freddy's Fazbear's Pizza, something like that." He explained. No fucking way. You looked at him wide eyed. "For real?" You asked him, he only nodded. Then he gave you the amount of money that was due. As you handed him his receipt, you hesitated a bit. "When can I see you again?" You asked. "Hm, I don't know, maybe in half an hour while I still have time? Why?" He asked, now curious on why you'd want to see him. "It's cause... I'd like to talk to you about something. It'll be worth your while, I promise." You said, he thought of it for a minute, then he nodded. "Alright, I'll meet you in the food court... When does your shift in end?" he asked. "In about an hour, what's your name by the way?" You asked him. "It's Mike." He told kindly, as you hummed in response. Watching him leave in a bit of a hurry, you went back to work hoping that the time would go by fast.

After that hour, you were at the food court, waiting for Mike to arrive. He finally did. "Thanks for coming." You said almost shyly. "No problem, but just make it quick. I got to get back home to get ready for my first shift." He explained. You and him sat on a table. "Look, I know you've only known me for a bit. But, please hear me out." You said. Mike nodded, allowing you to processed. "Could you, maybe let me in the pizzeria, while you do your job. I'm just looking for something." You explained to him. He looked at you with a look of confusion. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal anything, I'm just looking for something." You explained to him. But he wanted to know a bit more. "I don't know. What exactly are you looking for? Treasure of some kind?" He asked. "Well, almost something like that." You told him, but he still not very convinced. You didn't know whether you should tell him the whole story on why you're interested in going into the pizzeria. You just skipped the subject.

"Not only that, but I'll pay you for your troubles. I just want to go in and look, then I'm out." You added, as soon as you said 'paid' he looked at you with more reason. "How much?" he asked. "Two-hundred dollars per night. It'll just be this week and no more." You told him, seen the look of shock in his face. He thought for a minute. Then he nodded his head. "Alright deal, but, you have to pay first. I don't want to get scammed or anything." He said, then you grabbed your wallet and handed him two fifty dollar bills. He took the money and looked at it, in almost as if he'd never seen that amount in while. "That's all I have for now, but I'll give you the rest afterwards." You explained to him. Mike nodded, he seemed as if he was convinced. "Alright, it's a deal then." He said. After that was settled. "Before I go, here's my house number. Call me if anything." You explained to him, writing your house number on a piece of paper and gave it to him. You normally wouldn't give your number to anyone, but you knew that you'd be seen him for the next couple days.

Back home, you told your mom that you'd be going out at night for the whole week. For some kind of night shift and you'd be back at 6:00 am. You left home and headed to the pizzeria. It was 11:55 pm. You were sitting in your car, waiting for Mike to arrive. A few minutes passed and he had arrived at 12:00 am. On time. He told you to just be smooth and not make it seem as if you were here. He sounded as if he really needed this job. You nodded understandingly and went to search.

Like before, you searched everywhere that you could. Except you got to look more. In the kitchen, boiler room and in the back. But nothing. Despite not finding anything, you'll be back tomorrow night. When you got back to the main lobby, you heard strange movements coming from the single stage. It had dark purple curtains like the main one. You got a bit close, trying to listen and see closely on what was making the inside of the stage move. You reached out and tried to pull the curtains, until you heard the Mike called out to you. "Hey, it's 6:00, we gotta go." He said, you nodded at him, you looked back at the stage. Before you headed out. "Here's the rest." You told him, giving him the other two fifty bucks. He took them. "Thanks." He said, putting the money in his pocket. "No, thank you for letting me do this. I know it's risky." You said with a small smile. "It's nothing really, I just... really need the money and the pay here is not so great. From what I was told." He explained. You nodded. "I understand." You responded to him. "Well, I'll see you later tonight?" you asked him. "Yeah. See ya." He responded with a small awkward smile, then headed to his car. You did the same.

You went home, slept for a few hours. You had that dream once again. But, there was a slight change. When you got to the small single stage, the voice sounded much different than before. 'Y...O...U... F...O...U...N..D... M... E...' You could slightly make out the letters, but the words completely. Then you woke up again. Like always. You got ready and went to work and after work you went home, then you left to the pizzeria at the same time as you did before. Mike arrived, you paid him the while two hundred dollars and you got to doing what you were doing. You searched in the same places, but this time you looked more in the main lobby. It felt as if you were getting closer to finding something, and that something was in the main lobby. You looked under the tables, bathrooms and even in the trashcans, but nothing. But it still felt close. Looking over at the single stage, you noticed that the curtains were open. You walked over to it, and saw that it was empty. Dammit, you thought something would be in there, before you could leaned close to look inside. You heard a loud thud in the office.

Quickly you ran towards the office. "Mike?" You called out to him, seen that he was on the floor groaning in pain. Bleeding from his arm. You went over and helped him up from the floor. "You good? What happened?" you asked him, setting him back on the chair. "I think so, dunno how that happened." He said, referring to the wound on his arm. It looked nasty. You looked around the office, trying to find a first aid kit. When you found it, you helped him patch up his wound. "What did you do?" You asked him, as you tightened the bandages on his arm. "I have no idea, I just dreamed of this kid, with a pirate hook. I chased after him, then he slashed me." He said, this caught your attention. 'Boy with a pirate hook.' That must have been a sign somehow.

When you got back home, your mom was getting ready to leave. You talked for a bit before she left. When she did, you went to catch some sleep before work. You went back to that same dream, back at the pizzeria, except you were in the last place where it ended. At the single stage, it was open. But it was empty. You got close, leaning in to look inside, but it was dark. All most like a bottomless pit. You stoke your hand in to see if you might find something, inside but you felt something grabbing your hand in the process. You heard the voice again. 'Y...O...U... F...O...U...N..D... M... E...'. Then the house phone rang. Making you wake up with a loud gasp, a bit frightened. Groaning that you've been woken up. You got up and walked towards the living room. You picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?" you asked through the phone. "Y/n? Hey it Mike, sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing, but. Did you break into the pizzeria earlier this morning?" He asked, sounding worried in a way. "No? I was home the whole time. Why what happened?" You asked him. "Apparently someone or a group of people broke in. I just wanted to conform something." He explained. "That was it, sorry for interrupting." He apologized. "It's alright, I get it. I'll see you later tonight." You said, then you hung up. Who the hell would break into the pizzeria? That was a bit suspicious. You looked at the time and saw that it was close to being time to go to work. You sighed, walking back to your room to get ready.

Later that night, you were back at the pizzeria, waiting for Michael. He arrived, once he parked and stepped out of the car, then he went to the passenger door and opened it. A little girl stepped out with a small back pack. They both approached you. "Sorry, I couldn't get a hold of the babysitter and I just couldn't leave her alone." He explained to you. "Are you Mike's girlfriend?" she asked. Making you giggle and her brother's face turned a slight red. "Nah, just a friend." You replied to her. "Hm, I didn't think he'd have any." She said, making you laugh and Michael's face becoming redder. After you had a small introduction, you went in.

The place was trashed and a mess. While Mike went to put Abby to sleep, you decided to get some cleaning supplies to help clean the mess. You went to the janitor's closet to find some things, you spotted how on the door there was a dark liquid that had been splattered on there. Weird, it looked almost similar to blood, it was probably an old stain of some sort. You got brooms, dustpans, a bucket, mop and cleaning products. Then headed back to the main lobby. When Michael arrived, you and him got to cleaning. You both swept, mopped and you stocked up the chair and tables. Afterward, he went back to the office while you went on your search. Trying to find any kind of new clues maybe, but nothing. Some 'evidence' must have been cleaned up. You headed back to the office and saw that Mike was asleep and Abby had woken up. "Can you take me to the bathroom please?" She asked. You looked over at her sleeping brother and back at her. "Yeah, lets go." You said, taking her hand and leading her to the restroom.

You were waiting outside of the restroom, waiting for her to finish so that she could go back to her brother. The door opened and she walked out. "Done." She said with a small smile. Then a small noise was heard in the stage. You and Abby looked over for a minute. "Stay behind me." You said, then you slowly walked towards the lobby, with Abby behind you. You saw how the stage slightly shook, you kept the younger kid behind you, grabbing a broom. To defend yourself. Then the curtains of both the stages opened, revealing the animatronics. Of a bunny, bear, and a chick. They were all in good condition, with a bit of dirt and dust on them. The single stage had a fox, a bright red one that was more tattered than the rest, also with some dust.

They all moved their heads, towards your direction. Then they began to walk towards you both. You don't remember them doing that. You held the broom tightly, and kept Abby behind you. Except she peaked and looked towards the animatronics. "Those are my friends." She said, removing herself from behind you and going up to the four animals. "Abby wait." You said, getting closer to them. She seemed as if she knew them. Did she? You kept your broom in hand, watching as Abby interacted with them as if she's known them all her life. You felt something touch your shoulder, looking over, you saw the red fox. He was moving his ears and hook for a hand excitedly. Instead of feeling scared, you felt some kind of attraction? "It's okay, he just wants to hug you." Abby said to you, now the animatronics were looking at you. "He does?" you asked her, she then nodded.

Turning to face the fox, that was twice your size. You set the broom aside, then you extended your arms and moved closer to him. He did the same. You wrapped your arms around the cold fur like robotic body. His arms were around your smaller body. It felt a bit odd, but the more you hugged him, it felt comforting. You felt his hook for a hand giving you small pats, as a way to ease you. This felt nice, then you pulled away from him. Looking at him in his single eye. He moved his jaw excitedly, as well as his ears. It was cute in way. You gave him a small smile. Out of nowhere Abby began to laugh, you looked over and saw how the others were tickling her. She just laughed, which lead to some playful screaming and her telling them to stop. It was all fun and games, until you heard Mike run in to see what was happening.

As soon as he got there, he assumed Abby and you were in some kind of danger, he then grabbed a chair and held it up, as Freddy approached him. About to fight him. "It's okay Freddy, he's my brother Mike." Abby said towards Freddy, who had seemed to have calmed down. Allowing him to let Mike pass. "Mike, this is Bonnie, Foxy and Chica. Everyone, this is Mike." Abby introduced everyone to on another. "This is... is a joke right?" He asked, looking confused at you. "I thought I was tripping, but no." You responded to him. "It's okay Mike, they just want to play." Abby told Mike, then Chica turned to her and gave her a wink, making her smile.

"Alright, it's time to go, come on." He encouraged Abby. "Hold on." She responded to him, then she grabbed her little notepad and a red marker from her pocket. She drew something real quick and tore it off the notepad. Bonnie held out his hand, letting Abby put the picture on his palm. He then showed the picture to Foxy who looked very interested in the heart drawn on the paper. "I had a lot of fun." Abby told them, she then walked towards Mike. But stopped and gave Freddy a nice hug. Freddy returned the hug back. You looked at Foxy, who was waving his ears and jaw rapidly again. Also waving his hook around as if he was waving at you. "I'll see you around?" you asked him, he nodded his head. Then you walked out of the place with Mike and Abby.

"That was something." Mike said, watching Abby get in his car. "Yeah, it was." You responded, looking back inside, seen that Foxy was near the door. You guessed to make sure that you would all leave. You turned back to Mike who was closing and locking the gate. "So, find something?" He asked again. "Not yet, but I'm much closer than before." You explained to him. After he finished locking up the door. "I better get going. I got work in a few hours." You told him. "Alright, I'll probably stop by." He teased, making smile. "Alright, don't be a stranger." You told him, then you looked at Abby. "Goodbye Abby." You said kindly to her and she gave you smile, then you headed to your car, turned on the engine to get home. Back home, your mom wasn't there. You assumed she went to work early. You took off your shoes and just jumped on the couch, getting comfortable. Taking yet another nap before work. Hopefully afterwards you could get some better sleep. You fell asleep shortly afterwards.

You back at the pizzeria, except wasn't almost scary looking and dark like before. It seemed more friendly and nice to be in. You were standing outside the bathroom, the same clothes as before. Looking around, you saw someone in front of the single stage, they were small, like a child. You got closer to see who it was. Your eyes widen when you saw the back of that person's back of his head. They slowly turned around. You saw that it was your brother, he looks just like how he did when he went missing. He had on his orange shirt with blue jeans, shoes and his pirate hook that he had made.

"You found me." He said, you felt your eyes watering. It's been so long since you've seen your brother. You almost forgot how he looked like. You said his name in a whisper, then you went over, getting on your knees and pulling him into a hug. "Oh...I'm so sorry, I was only gone for a minute. I knew I should have been more watchful of you." You said, as you cried more, hugging your brother. "It's okay. You found me" He responded to you, all you could do was hug him and cry. As much as you wanted to continue to hug and be with him, you couldn't. This was only a dream. You pulled away, and looked at him in the eyes. "Please... I have to know... who took you?" You asked him, hoping that he'd give you answer or a clue. He didn't say anything. "Please tell me, who took you from me and mom?" You asked him again, but again. Nothing. Before you could ask him again. You woke up.

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satorusdiary · 2 years ago

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"Now that's where you’re wrong, baby. Your mine. Anything you do is my buisness."

Toji Fushiguro x Reader

slight angst + fluff + smut + happy ending + Toji and Reader being down bad for each other :)

Summary: Toji and Reader have been on and off. Yet they have never made it official on what their “relationship” actually was. After an argument, the pair finds themselves being distanced away from each other for a whole 2 months. For the whole 2 months, Reader has been avoiding Toji. When Gojo’s birthday party happens, Toji has had enough when he catches you locking lips with him on the dance floor.

Today marks the 67th day of you avoiding Toji. 67 days without being in bed with him, 67 days without his dick in you, and 67 days without him spoiling you with all the love and affection you desperately needed.

You missed him more than anything.

Apart of you was so close to text him, and to send that “i miss you, please come over.” message. But you had to put yourself first for once. You came to your senses that you wouldn’t waste another 6 months with a man, just for him to call your “relationship” friends with benefits.

Therefore, you blocked him.

You didn’t know what you were doing now. The party you were attending was one you didnt even want to be at, yet here you were. Dancing along side with your friends.

The whole room starting reeking of alcohol and weed, and other stuff that you couldn't put your mind into thinking of it. You were for sure catching a headache from all substances creating in one setting into your senses.

"Fuck i gotta pee." You held your stomach, the slight feeling of needing to throw up occurred to you. Yumi, who was your long term friend and roommate next you held your back and looked at you worried.

"You okay? I'll take you to the bathroom if you need." She offers.

You shake your head and sent a smile her way easing her feels of worrying. The beating in your head wouldn't stop, but you managed to still get by when you starting moving away from the group to find the restroom.

Pushing past others was also a hassle. You encountered others sexually dancing with others, and pushed past the larger groups that were blocking entry ways into spaces you needed to get by.

You walked into the main entrance where many other were crowding around, letting others into the house. You knew there was a bathroom near by there.

Something then caught your eye once you got a clear view of one of the couches, near the entry way. There was two girls, one boy on one couch. One girl was on top of his lap above his crotch, while the other girl was next to him kissing those lips that were once kissing you, and your body.

His raven hair, the baby hairs falling into place infront of his face dangling slightly hinting the other girl he was making out with.

One of his large hands traveled down onto the girl that was on him, slithering down her back and into her ass, giving it tight squeezes. The other hand was cupping the girl he was kissing face, holding it roughly. You shouldn't be watching this, but suddenly you felt a burning sensation build up in your body, most likely your chest.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You cursed to yourself. The first time you’ve glanced at him, Toji. Was when you catch him having a three way with two random girls.

You didn’t even notice your eyes watering. He used to touch you like that.

He opened his eyes, glancing at you with a gentle smirk forming as he continued to kiss the girl beside him, observing your shift in movement at the intensity of his gaze. He watched as your jaws clenched with a hint of jealousy. He was enjoying this.

You sucked in a deep breathe before walking in a fast pace back into the crowd, looking for anyone in general that could keep you company and calm you down at once.

Him thinking this shit was funny was what pissed you off the most.

Satoru and Suguru, who happened to be by the drinks near the kitchen were around a big group of people. Some girls ogling over Satoru, Suguru beside him was selling. Their eyes were settled on you once they saw you enter their gaze, as you walked over to get a cup of alcohol drinking it straight away.

Satoru quickly walked over to you, ignoring the others who were protesting he come back to receive more gifts from others that came to celebrate his birthday. Before you can drink anymore, he snatched the drink from you and looked down at you with a confused tone.

"Easy—easy there love. You good?" He rubbed your shoulder making you look back up him. You ignored the pet name, even though you were slightly blushing and continued to have small talk.

"It's nothing, i was just thirsty." you replied.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you uncertainly. The birthday crown that was over his head was slightly falling off the one side of his head. You scanned around the room and sucked in your teeth, trying to see if Yumi was around. No sign of her in your vision.

You ignored it and looked up at Satoru, plastering a somewhat forced smile on your face, sheltering the feeling of hurt you felt towards the scene you once saw before walking towards him.

You wanted Toji back. Desperately. But your pride for yourself, and self confidence was getting in the way. You needed to provide for yourself for once.

Satoru places one of his hands against your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he looked at you with a gentle expression. He knew you were upset about something, but he couldn't understand what you were upset about that would ruin your night so easily.

Your eyes lit up at an idea. You wrapped your arms around Satoru’s neck and pulled him down until your lips slightly made contact with his ears.

"Satoru.. would you like to dance with me?" You asked in a seducing tone. One that made his hold on you tighten bringing you closer to him. A smirk appears on his lips.

When you pulled away waiting for an answer, his low eyes looked at you with a hint of lust. He smiled and gave you a small nod before holding an arm around your waist, leading you towards the dance floor.

Once you were in the center, a place where you knew Toji would see you, you placed your arms around Satoru and started to move along with him. His large hands slithering down your frame and running against your ass, giving them slight squeezes.

When you looked over his shoulder, you noticed a few girls looking at you with a hint of jealousy running through their expressions. No sign of Toji yet.

You sent delicate kisses over Satoru’s neck. One hand left his waist as he cupped your jaw just so he could whisper in your ear.

"Y'Know, this is dangerous. Your lil boyfriend can pop out of no where and beat the shit out of me for dancing with you." He smirked.

You shook your head, talking into his ear once more.

“Boyfriend? no, no no. It wasn’t like that the second he fucked up.” You murmured.

He pulled away to meet your eyes. Leaning his face closer into your face, before asking you one question that made you know what you wanted at the moment on the dance floor.

"Oh, so he won't mind me kissing you?"

You shook your head and placed your lips on his. His other hand grabbed the back of your head to pull you closer into the kiss than you already are; deepening the kiss. He bit your lower lip and continued to suck on it, making you moan into his mouth.

He slithered his tongue into your mouth as the make-out session continued. Satoru’s big hands running down the sides of your dress, letting his hands touch, studying every curve they came across giving them small squeezes.

You opened your eyes to get a glimpse around you. Toji came to your vision as he watched you and his friend make out willingly in-front of him. You did as he did, smirked in-front of his face and continued to bring Satoru closer than he already was.

Toji was willingly wanting to go over to you both and push him off of you. But he couldn't, he was frozen on the spot and upset, obviously glaring at you both with a beam of hatred.

He didn’t know why he continued to watch. Maybe it’s his sick mind imagining that it was him making out with you instead of that Jack-Frost wannabe.

He distanced himself from you both, going his own way to deny his own feelings of jealousy that he definitely has because of Satoru. You chucked to yourself and gave your attention back to Satoru, happily kissing him which he obligated back.

"Is this my birthday present from you, baby?" Satoru questioned against your lips.

You giggled and nodded your head. "Yeah if you want it to be."

The two of you continued to have small talk for the next hour, having fun and keeping each other company. Happily.

"We should probably stop before things get hectic, Toji over there looks pissed." Satoru laughed out nervously as he looked over your shoulder to look back at Toji, who was giving him an intimidating hateful glare.

You frowned but nodded in agreement. "Alright, give me one more kiss though."

He agreed and pulled you down into one more kiss, roaming his hands down onto your body once more to remember the feeling of being able to do something like those with you.

After a few minutes, you pulled away from him and followed him as you made your way back over to your friends group.

"Hold up, i'm gonna freshen up real quick. I'll meet your with the others soon." You told Satoru, who nodded his head and pushed past the crowd to get back with his friends.

The music changed and started playing "Persian Rugs by PartyNextDoor." You loved this song with a passion. Everyone in the room began to get hyped and continued to dance with others, the lights changing color as smoke consumed most of the area.

You quickly made your way into the bathroom and shut the door, lucky you pushed past the big line of people that needed to use the bathroom. You walked up to the mirror and placed both hands on the counter looking back at your reflection, letting out a big sigh. Your lipstick was slightly smudged, which made you put your thumb at the smudged part to wipe of the left over lipstick. You eyed your figure, and your dress. Your lucky you've gotten this dress, even if it was a bit tight you loved it. It was one of your favorites to wear at a party.

A few bangs hit the bathroom door, signaling you to hurry up. You rolled your eyes and took your handbag and placed it over your shoulder before placing your hand on the doorknob to twist it open. Kento , who was outside the door looked down at you with a surprised look, which turned into a apologetic look after.

"Whoops, sorry y/n. Didn't know you were in here." He apologized before pushing through to get in the bathroom.

"It's fine, Kento." You began to walk away. This time in a different direction than where you were supposed to go. Instead of going back to the dance floor you decided to walk further into the house. You've never been in Satoru’s family home before, why not take advantage and give yourself a house tour for yourself?

You walked down the hallway and walked into a led light room, filled with many different colors that were covering the room with its light. There was not many people inside, besides a few people you recognized that went to the same college as you.

As you walked further, you noticed how beautiful Satoru’s family home actually is. It's well decorative, insanely expensive, and it has beautiful lighting all around the rooms.

You felt someone tug at your wrist which startled you. Before you can get a look at the person you were lifted up by the waist and thrown over someone's shoulder, as if you were a sack of nothing. The man's muscular arms were around your legs while you turned to look at the person who began walking away with you over his shoulder.

"What the fuck— hey let me go!" You punched at the persons back. It was hard to see who the person was, he kept taking you both through dark rooms making it hard to make out the person features. That was until he brought you both into a bedroom and closed the door behind him, locking it. Now you were afraid, you were growing a anxious feeling in your stomach that made you want to scream.

That was until you looked up at the person who brought you into the room. The larger man’s large hands pushed down on your waist as you were pinned against one of the walls in the bedroom. He looked upset, his glare looking down at you sent shivers down your spine as you kept avoiding his gaze.

It was Toji fucking Fushiguro.

He placed his hand under your chin and shifted your head to meet his eyes, placing his forehead against yours.

"So, you getting at my friend now?" His low voice murmured against your head. His hot breathe hitting your face in doing so. You looked up at him with an upset gaze.

"Don't act stupid. Actin like you weren't having a three way with two girls you probably don't know. And anyways, anything i do with Satoru is none of your business." You explained and tried getting out of him grasp. You wanted to walk out the door, and have your own fun. Without him ruining it.

"Now that's where your wrong, baby. Your mine. Anything you do is my buisness." He told you, bringing down his head to place small, delicate kisses onto your neck.

Your legs were gonna give out, there was a heat building up in between your thighs which made you slightly rub them together.

"I'm not yours, now leave me alone. Don't ruin my night please." You pleaded.

He ignored your statement and continued kissing your neck. He noticed how you rubbed your thighs which made him smirk. The next move he did was placing his knee in between your legs, making connections with your crotch.

“Y-You broke my heart Toji. I fucking hate you for that.” Your throat began clogging up as your hands clenched into a fist.

Toji moved his kisses up from your neck, and kissed the shell of your ear. Before muttering soft words you’d never though you would ever hear again.

“‘m so sorry, my baby. ‘m a fuckin idiot for letting you go. You’re my only girl.” He apologized, thinking it would atleast make you feel better.

That was until he felt a few sniffles against his shoulder. His world stopping as he now feels tears seeping through his jacket. Then he remembers when he saw you watch him make out with a few randoms. His poor girl, probably couldn’t handle the scene she saw.

"Those girls meant nothing to me, all i want is you. But you made it more difficult when you blocked me." He stated into your ear. The smell of his cologne was all you can smell.

He picked you up by the waist and made his way onto the bed. Unknowingly to you, the bedroom was Satoru’s. Toji knew what he was doing when he dragged you into this room.

As he sat down, he placed you on his lap making you wrap your arms around his neck so you didn't fall down.

"Don't lie, w-what d’ya even want from me?" You stuttered, a heat of embarrassment rose inside your chest.

He rubbed his hands up and down your body, eyeing at how much skin you were showing from your dress. Then, his hands slithered down to your bare legs and rubbed them aswell.

You looked so beautiful. As if an angel just appeared into his eyes.

He kissed your forehead and place his head against yours before looking down at your lips.

"I want you, sweetheart." He admitted. You wanted to pull away and deny everything. But honestly, you missed his touch. And you missed fucking him.

You placed your hands under his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Your lips sucking at his bottom lip making him softly grin at your actions. His hands were on your waist, moving and guiding your hips above his crotch. You felt his clothes budge under your crotch as well.

His hands that were roaming your bare legs lifted up the dress you wear wearing, taking it off your frame making you pull away from him. He looked into your lustful eyes as he unclothed you.

His cheeks were slightly red, from the slight movement you've been making that's gotten him hard under your touch. Delicately, he held onto the hook of your laced bra and unhooked it. Your bra fell off your body, your breast being free from it.

You felt heat build up into your cheeks as you embarrassingly covered your chest. You haven't done this with him in awhile, it's like this is your first time with him again.

Toji held onto your arms and tried removing them from your chest. "Don't hide from me, Baby your beautiful"

He pulled away your arms and left kisses around your breasts. One hand was massaging one of your breasts, while the other was being cupped to help Toji kiss it better for you.

You moaned when he began sucking on your nipple, constantly licking and biting the more you grind your hips on top of him. Suddenly, he carried you and laid you down on the bed, letting go of your breast with a pop.

"Open up for me." He demanded.

"H-Huh??" You cried out, your legs were shut. You were too embarrassed to show yourself like that.

"Your legs." His voice was an octave lower. "Let me see that dripping cunt." You whimpered and swallowed your breath before slowly parting your legs giving a slight glimpse of your folds, that were soaked and glistening with your wetness. Toji thinks he's died and gone to heaven with this sight that was blessed for his eyes, and his eyes only.

"Look at you," Toji smirked, pressing your thigh to the bed with one hand while sliding up your leg and ghosting his fingertips over your pussy's lips with the other. "You're soaked, princess," He muttered.

Two fingers were inserted into Toji’s mouth, covering them in saliva, and then pulled back down to slide between your folds. He abruptly put two digits inside, crooked them up, and sent a shockwave through your entire body.

He tittered, pulling out his fingers only to re-insert them into his mouth while swirling his tongue to catch a whiff of your flavor. He continued to look at you while muttering softly between his fingers. His sneer was lewd as he slid them out.

"Toji—" You were cut off when Toji began swirling his tongue against your clit, holding your body firmly in place as you moved on the bed from the pleasure that has been given to you.

"I missed you." You admitted making him look up from between your legs, his eyes meeting yours as he spared a small grin. He pressed another kiss to your cunt before replying.

"I missed you more, baby."

He kissed up at your body, stopping at your lips as he swirled his tongue around yours in a lewd manner. Occasionally you would moan into his mouth, as you were lolling your tongue into his.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs out, obviously rock hard. To your surprise it was harder than usual. He strokes his cock into his hands, eyeing you the whole time as your cunt gets wetter and wetter just from looking at his cock.

He aligned himself towards your body, rubbing his tip against your sopping wet entrance. The lewd noises of your cunt squelching can be heard from all around the room. Carefully, he pushes himself inside you. His hands on both sides of your hips as he gets inside deeper.

Once he's fully inside he places his hand above your stomach to feel himself inside you. You were basically suffocating his cock inside of you from your squeezing, it made him close his eyes for a slight second to adjust to your feeling.

You placed your hand on his arm, rubbing it up and down and looked at him with doe eyes. "Tojii, move please." You beg. The feeling of him just cock warming you wasn't enough for your pleasure.

"Aight, you asked for this 'baby no going back now." He began thrusting into you in and out, in a harsh and fast manner. Your eyes began fluttering in arousal as your clung to his arms.

As his thrusts grew louder, so did your moans. You gripped around his neck as he moved inside of you. The headboard banged violently against the wall making a harsh noise that you knew the people in the room next door wouldn't enjoy as Toji continued to push his big cock into you harshly. Toji began to rock faster inside of you, observing the ways your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back as he thrusted into your g-spot which made you moan louder than ever. he pulled himself out of you, only to reinsert himself so you felt full once again as he made you adjust to his own size as you continued to cry out his name over and over.

Tears began escaping your e/c orbs. The wet substance began falling onto the bedsheets making Toji bend down to kiss your tears away. "Your pretty when you cry." He complimented, continuing on to kiss your face and your tears.

He continued to roll his hips into yours in a fast pace. He abused your used hole in ways he has never before making a new feeling appear in your stomach. The bubble that was forming was just begging to be released. When his cock twitched inside of you, it made it worse for you.

"Look how deep i am inside you, baby." He cooed making your hand press against your stomach. You looked at him surprised as you felt his cock move inside your stomach. The feeling was almost too much to bear for you body.

He felt pleased that he had caused you to see stars as he watched your breasts bounce with each violent thrust he made. Toji continued to pound into you; you could hear your flesh slapping and hearing a mild squelching. As he continued to pound into you, you moaned out his name while holding onto him. He groaned each time you clenched around him as he pulled away from you and then pushed himself back in. He halted the pulling and started to set a rough pace once more. Toji proceeded to exploit your sweet spots, and you felt ecstasy take over your body.

"—'m gonna cumm" you moaned outloud into Toji’s ear when you pulled him closer to you. Your bodies were hot, closed together as the intimate feeling continued on.

"Cum then, y/n." He pounded harder into as he buried his head into your neck. Kissing, sucking, and licking your soft skin as he claimed you as his once again for the first time in awhile.

You began releasing on him as kept trusting into you. After a few thrusts he came in you aswell. That was a trigger that made you cum for the second time around his cock. Cums mixing in together deep inside of you unknowingly creating the love you two sheared together.

Now, the both of you were panting. Toji places a kiss onto the crown of your head before hiding his head into your neck. Deep breaths being felt against you as you tried collecting your breath.

He was still buried deep inside of you. Thrusting in slightly as he calmed down from his high. You watched as he slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, you hissed from the the overstimulation that over came inside your body.

"Shit, —sorry." He rubbed one side of your body calming you down.

"You okay?" He questions, looking at your fragile, bruised, marked body that he had done.

You hesitantly nodded your head before scanning your body. A pain flashed through you as you tried moving your legs, which Toji took a notice in.

"I can't move my legs." You nervously laughed out loud. Toji nodded his head and began messaging your legs and thighs.

"Sorry baby, i'll help you put your clothes on." He offered, carrying your frame to bring you over to the bathroom that was inside the bedroom.

After your cleaned up, Toji brings your dress and drags back up over your naked body. You looked at him in awe. Your legs were still sore, but you only had your heals with you.

"fuck, this is gonna be a pain." You whined, putting on your heels. Your arm was around Toji’s waist as he assured you some help when you would have difficulties.

He was already fully dressed, besides his jacket that was left on the counter of the bathroom. You patted down your dress as you examined yourself from the mirror. Toji behind you took his jacket, and hung it over your shoulders.

You smiled and put it on before turned around to pull him into a hug, which he happily returned giving you a small rare smile that he usually doesn't give to others around him. As you hug, his hands roam around your body, admiring your curves

“Let’s get out of here, hm baby? Let’s’ go back home and cuddle the night away?” Toji offered. The look he gave you was full of love, and adoration. Something you missed.

You hummed in response, though it wasn’t one he expected.

“That depends, am I still your friends with benefits?” You teasingly asked, the grin on his lips never leaving his features.

“Nah, you’re my girlfriend. Hell, baby. I’d buy you a fuckin ring if you’d want.” Toji exclaimed, kissing your forehead then your lips.

Your body filled with excitement, just a few days ago you continued crying over him. Now you were back with him, today really went according to plan.

“I love you.” Toji muttered, quietly. Yet you were able to hear it.

A big smile appears on your cute features, making Toji’s heart do spins. The feeling of your warm welcoming hands cup his cheeks.

“I love you s’much more. Take us home, please Toji.” You begged.

His arm wraps around your waist, and over his jacket that was around your body. His other hand clutching onto his car keys.

“Right ahead of you, sweetheart. ‘m gonna make up for lost time for you, as your boyfriend.” He kissed your cheek.

Finally, now that label was something you enjoyed.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

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sofiafantasies · 1 year ago

Text

Imagine: Jack seeing you for the first time but you can’t see him

Disclaimer; This is inspired by @cutiepieloves131

It had been three years since Jack became a guardian. And he had to admit, it was fun. Ironically enough he was the guardian of fun. But the spirit of winter.

He spreaded snow and frost everywhere. From France to the small town of Burgess. At first, it was strange to be a guardian, helping children, and being seen.

Usually, children were the only ones who could see him. Well, children who bealived in him. Which weren't a lot. But as the years went by a lot more came. And he got a decent amount of believers.

It was very strange. He would just be walking by making it snow and children would come up to him. It was surprising but he got used to it.

He would fly over the world when he didn't have to bring winter. But when he was, he's favorite place to finish is at Burgess. That's Jamie's town. Jamie is the first boy who ever bealived in Jack.

Burgess has a very special place in his heart. And so is Jamie. But while he is out flying around the world he encounters many strange people, that can't see him. Last time he "meet" a young female.

Jack was in Burgess bringing snow and fun like usual. That was his last stop for the day. He was done and all the kids were out playing. He was going to leave but then Cupcake came running out of her home.

"Guys! You won't believe it!" She ran to her friends. And Jack was just close enough to hear. He turned around to see the little ball of sunshine. "What is it, Cupcake?" Pippa asked.

"My sister is coming back from collage!" Cupcake jumped up and down. "Wait. Y/n is coming back?" Jamie asked excited like everyone else. Jack confused flew to them. "Who's Y/n?" He asked.

"Cupcake's older sister." Jamie answered. "Yes, she's the best!" Caleb said as his twin brother agreed, "Yeah, she is!" They high five each other.

"She is the coolest!" Monty said excitedly as he fixed his glasses. "Coolest?" Jack mouthed out. "Remember when we had that massive snowball fight?" Claude asked as he made a snowball and threw it at Caleb who dogged.

"Yeah, she was the best at that!" Caleb agreed. "The best?" Jack mummered. "Ooh, and on my birthday she made the biggest party ever!" Pippa jumped up and down. "She was awesome!" Monty exclaimed.

"Awsome?" Jack whispered. "Uh, were is she, exactly?" Jack said as he leaned on his woden staff. "She's on her way here!" Cupcake yelled. "When is she getting here?" Jamie asked.

Jack chuckled at their excitement. "I'm not so sure." Cupcake shrugged. While they all told Jack how awesome and generous Y/n was they didn't know you had arrived.

"Mom! Dad!" You ran to them and hugged them both. Tears where shead. Blah, blah, blah. "Where's Cupcake?" You asked. "Oh, she's with Jamie and the others." Your mother said whipping her tears.

You lowly gasped with excitement and with one last hug you ran to find her. "Cupcake!" You called as you walked along the frozen path. Almost slipping. But you grabbed onto a ralling for bikes.

You sighed and carefully walked along the path. "Cupcake!" You yelled again. This time you were somewhere near Jamie's house and near the lake. "Uh, Jamie!?" You called.

"Ugh, come back from collage to a very warm welcome." You mocked. "Cupcake!!" You yelled louder. "Y/N!!" Cupcake and her friends ran to you. "Oh!" You feel backwards due to the force.

"Hi, guys!" You greeted as you hugged them all. They all bombarded you with questions as you stood up. Cupcake was clinging to your leg which you honestly didn't mind. You knew how much she missed you.

"Woah, woah! Calm down. One at a time, please." You laughed with them. But as you answered their questions Jack flew near you. He observed your features.

How your E/c eyes glimmering in the sun. How your S/c skin suited you well. The way your H/c colered hair framed your face perfectly. How soft your L/c lips looked.

He could tell you where a kind person by the way you interacted with the kids. "It's nice to see you all. But it's getting late shouldn't you guys be heading home?" You asked. Cupcake had finally let go of your leg.

"Oh, right!" Pippa realized. "Will we see you tomorrow?" Monty asked. "You bet!" The kids all cheered. "Come on, Cupcake. Say bye." You told your sister as you started to walk away.

"Bye!" All the kids said to each other and they all went home. "I have so much to tell you!" Cupcake said to you. "Oh, well I would love to hear it all."

Jack being the curious and mischievous guy he is decided to follow you two. He wanted to know you. Maybe even have you see him. He knew you couldn't. But that didn't stop him from trying.

"I have this cool story to tell you. It was awesome!" Cupcake beamed. "Alright. How about you wait 'till we get home. Yeah?" You asked as you glanced down at her. "Okay!" You giggled as she skipped home.

Feeling a cold but gentle breeze you smiled. You loved winter. Sure it was cold but it was fun. A small snowflake fell infront of you. Bringing your hand up the snowflake landed on your palm.

You giggled at the cold feeling. You smiled softly as it started to snow more. "It's snowing!" Cupcake said as she tried to capture snowflakes with her tounge.

"Winter. So lovely." You whispered. Cupcake was a few feet away from you and Jack was right next to you. "It is, ain't it?" Jack asked even though he knew you won't respond.

"How I whish I could just..control it." This peaked Jack's interest. "How so?" He asked. "Imagine me..able to bring winter anywhere, anytime, whenever." You giggled. Watching the snowflakes fall into your palm you felt happy.

Happy to be home. "Well, snowflake, you'll be happy to know, I already do that." Jack informed. You giggled and shoock your head. "Talking to myself. Gotta stop doing that."

You looked straight ahead and saw that Cupcake was further away. "Hey, Cupcake! Wait up!" You ran to her. Jack chuckled at you and looked back but decided to follow you.

#jack frost x reader #RoTG #Pippa #Monty #Claude #x reader #Caleb #Jamie #Y/n #x you #Rise of the Guardians

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standfucker · 1 year ago

Text

Breathe Me In

Character: Smoker

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 7.4k

CW: minor injury and first aid (not graphic but stitches are mentioned), explicit N.SFW content, breathplay, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy

Summary: As a woman in the Marines, the path to Read Admiral has been rough, but Smoker's been there for you since the beginning.

Ao3 Link

🎉🎉🎉🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zoros-sheath !!!🎉🎉🎉🎉 Hope the 2.5 days of anticipation weren't too rough on you. Good job! You did it! You waited and here it is! Sweet n' spicy and served hot just for you! <3 I love you!

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he pours the disinfectant over the wound on your arm, and your breath turns into a hiss.

“I know,” he says. “Sorry, kid.”

“We’re the same age,” you say automatically, as you always do. Not that it’s ever stopped him, he’s been teasing you with that ever since he learned he was seven months older. “And you don’t need to apologize.”

You can handle a little pain. As a Rear Admiral, this is far from your first rodeo, but you always stay mindful of how you’re appearing to your unit. None of them are in the tent at the moment, though, nor is Smoker one of yours–ranking a spot above you, the Vice Admiral led his own team–but habits were habits.

Both of your units had been assigned to the same mission, which was always a delight. You and Smoker had gone through basic training together and started out in the same unit, but didn’t get to see each other as often once you'd both advanced to the higher ranks. You used to hate how he always seemed to be just a step ahead career-wise. You would advance to his level, share a few months to a year at the same rank, and then he would ultimately earn a promotion, leaving you with the dispiriting sense of being second-best. He had even been in charge of you at one point when he was made Captain of your unit. But despite that, you’d have never made it this far without him in the first place, his competence and strength a point of burning motivation for you.

“Not the same age,” Smoker mutters, the childish banter his attempt to distract you. “I’m thirty-six and a half.”

Since the beginning, there had always been a charged undercurrent to your rivalry. You felt it when you sparred, you felt it when you half-jeered, half encouraged each other during grueling physical fitness tests. You felt it when you ate together, and when you reached down to tap your shared bunk frame at lights-out. You felt it most when, every night, without fail, you’d hear a return tap. Each of you pushed the other to excel as you rose through the ranks, and became better soldiers, and eventually leaders, for it.

The life-and-death battles that came with experience only strengthened your bond. Having each others’ backs in a fight brought a depth of trust that few other situations could, you’d found–it seemed inevitable, then, when your relationship turned physical. Though neither of you were as interested in other people, you weren’t exclusive: A near-death experience on your end made you question the wisdom of such an arrangement with both parties in such high-risk employment. And for years, that was fine with you, and you’d assumed it was fine with Smoker. You would get to see each other when work let your paths cross, and you both made a point to try to spend time together if your vacations overlapped. But at last year’s Marine Ball, Smoker had asked you, flat-out in that direct manner of his, if you would be exclusive with him. You asked for some time to think it over, promising him an answer by the time you next met.

That time happened to be the start of the current mission, a few weeks ago. Smoker made a valiant attempt to hide his pleasure when you told him you accepted. He didn’t smile in front of anyone else, nor did he treat you differently while they were watching, but it still slipped out in other ways. He went noticeably easier on his men, even holding his tongue rather than scolding Tashigi when she lost her glasses again. Watching his unit trying to figure out why their Vice Admiral seemed in such a good mood was a source of great entertainment for you.

Unfortunately for everyone, it didn’t last. The mission ultimately led to a fight with the pirates you’d been hunting, and Smoker had been pissy ever since. In the heat of battle, he didn’t notice an enemy taking aim at him. You did, managing to push him out of the way and getting grazed in the process. It wasn’t serious, but you knew that stubborn chimney would hyperfocus on it for a while, replaying the situation in his head and trying to figure out what he could have done differently.

Smoker’s insistence on treating your wound himself, having gruffly dismissed both medics from the tent, was proof enough of that.

“Sutures now,” he says.

You could usually tell what he was thinking because you thought the same way. Both of you were quick to blame yourselves, to shoulder the burden because you were strong enough to. His sense of duty and yours could clash at times; you shared that headstrong independence in common. And yet, at the end of the day, your decision to accept his offer had been an easy one.

More importantly than loving you, Smoker respected you–and you’d like to keep it that way. He was never a dick about gender like many in the Navy could be, but your conduct was always in the back of your head regardless. Not appearing weak was crucial to social survival in this line of work. And so, even though Smoker is safe, you do your best not to react when he starts to stitch. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop a twitch here, a contorting of your face there, and Smoker sighs through his nose, twin plumes of smoke puffing from his nostrils like a dragon.

“Even after all this time,” he grumbles. "You don’t need to act tough in front of me. You’re just like Tashigi… Or, I should say, Tashigi takes after you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The pain makes you respond a little more snappily than you normally would. You don’t appreciate the implications of him naming the only women he spends time with, for one. For another, you’ve informally adopted Tashigi and will hear no slander toward her, but Smoker surprises you with his response.

“You put on a brave face,” he glances at you for a moment before returning his focus to your wound, “because you have to work twice as hard to gain half as much respect.”

That catches you off guard. As much as you love Smoker, and as sensible as he usually is, that’s not something you’d expect to hear from a man, much less a military man. Neither had you ever felt it necessary to discuss that aspect of your life with him, so you ask, “who told you that?”

“Vice Admiral Tsuru.”

You blink. “What brought on that conversation?”

“It was years ago, when we had our big fight,” Smoker briefly looks up as he recalls it. The continued disrespect of your male peers had reached a boiling point, and Smoker’s promotion ahead of you had brought out some hard feelings. “She overheard us, apparently. I didn’t ask, but she approached me with a ‘word of advice,’ and told me her guess as to why you were upset. Said I ought to go easy on you.”

“She did?” You didn’t expect that, either. Tsuru had never once coddled you, nor had she treated you any differently from other soldiers. Like any other Vice Admiral, she demanded no less than excellence from the rank and file. To think she was looking out for you behind your back brings a small smile to your face, but Smoker only rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. And years later, when Tashigi was assigned to me–Tsuru didn’t say anything, but she made eye contact with me the next time we met. Sustained eye contact.”

You laugh; he does not, silently tying off the sutures and starting to bandage your arm. You watch Smoker work. His expression doesn’t change much, but you know him well enough to read the minute differences, the slight tensing of his brow and the way he bites down just a bit harder on his cigars.

“You’re still mad.”

“Why did you take the bullet?” He cuts right to the chase, pausing his work to give you a hard look.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, too, as you hadn’t taken anything, you’d only been grazed. The wound wasn’t even that deep, whereas Smoker getting shot directly would have been a far worse injury to treat, assuming he survived it at all. “Smoker, that pirate was using Colors of Arms. It would have hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead.” His voice is carefully flat as he resumes bandaging, the way it is when he’s making an effort not to raise it–he learned early on that you have zero tolerance for men shouting.

This conversation always happened after combat situations, to the point that it long since stopped being a bother. You know how to handle it now. Once it would have aggravated you, feeling like coddling, but you’d since come to learn that Smoker got irritable when anyone under his command was injured. Pretending like he would feel any less toward his partner was unfair to him, and a naive expectation in the first place. Not much raises his spirits in these situations aside from time, but you try to be lighthearted anyway.

“In the interest of tactics,” you point out, “as the strongest one in our group, it’s more important that you stay uninjured.”

“Screw that. You’re under me in rank–”

“Barely–” you try to cut in.

“–it’s my job to keep you safe.” Smoker finishes wrapping your wound. He’s delicate when he tucks the bandage in, but then peels off his rubber gloves and tosses them with far more force than necessary, the rubber snapping loudly against the waste bin.

You tsk. “Did you forget what they taught us as grunts, way back when? ‘Keep the Captain alive.’ And you did keep me safe, didn’t you? You subdued the pirate with the opening I gave you. I kept my Captain alive, you kept the rest of us safe. The system worked as it should.”

“The system is a fucking joke,” he retorts with a bitterness you rarely hear from him. His hands ball into fists, and you know he’s thinking about Punk Hazard again, which means he’s thinking about Alabasta again, too.

You also know that his stewing in those memories will only make him feel worse, but there’s another way to lift his mood that occasionally works, when he’s receptive to it.

“...Yeah? Is that what you keep telling yourself whenever you’re fooling around with your subordinate?” You say it just a touch vampishly, and his eyes are slightly narrowed when they meet yours–he knows what you’re doing. “You should know better, Captain.”

Calling him ‘Captain,’ evoking the old days and the old power dynamic, is another dead giveaway as to what you’re offering. For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and you think his mood’s too sour to reciprocate. Then he relaxes his fists and grunts.

“I don’t tell myself anything when we're fooling around,” he says. “You do plenty of that for me. Mainly don’t stop and please.”

You smile, going to rest your hands on his, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, don’t–don’t distract from what happened.”

“Smoker,” you sigh.

“It’s my mistake that got you hurt.”

“Will you please stop taking responsibility for my choices? I know what I can handle. Hell, you know what I can handle. You know I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” he argues.

“Apparently not!” you snap. He scowls and turns his head, ashamed, but you grab his sleeve to make him look at you again. You are not going to coddle his ego, even if his intentions are ultimately loving. “Put yourself in my shoes for a damn second. How would you feel if you had the chance to protect me and didn’t? You wanted to be committed to each other. That means I look out for you, too.”

Smoker stares at you, then at the ground, and then closes his eyes. You wait patiently as he takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, you can visibly see the tension easing in his shoulders, sense its waning with your Haki, dissipating with the smoke he exhales. Stepping before you once more, he rests his hands low on your hips and pulls you close without a word. Conveniently, with him having over a foot of height on you, you can embrace him without the threat of cigar smoke up in your face; you promptly take advantage of that to bury your face into his broad chest (another win for height difference.)

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads in your chest at how easy it is for him to admit it, to defer to your judgment when rightfully earned. “I just hate seeing you injured.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re my woman.” Smoker grabs your ass in emphasis, squeezing hard and pulling you flush against him. You can’t help but bite your lip at the treatment, and he smirks down at you. “Like the sound of that?”

“I dunno…”

“You’re blushing.”

“So are you!”

That makes him pause, taking a moment to check the surroundings with his Haki, making sure no one’s heading your way. You instinctively follow suit, sensing the various life energies of your combined units, all at their respective posts. Comfortably in the clear, you and Smoker focus back on each other.

“I know you're still frustrated, Smoker,” you say. “If only there was some way to work it out…”

“I’m getting the subtle impression you want me to take it out on you.” One hand leaves your rear to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly on your lower lip. You poke your tongue out to brush the calloused digit, making his eyes half-lid and his voice deepen. “Are you really such a slut that you’d fuck right after getting injured?”

“Only for you, Captain,” you promise. Keeping eye contact, you lightly bite the tip of his thumb, earning the rare sound of his breath catching. “Besides…we both know it would have to be deeper than that to affect me.”

“How deep we talkin’?” Smoker’s hand slides from your jaw to cradle the back of your neck. You go to hook your arms around his neck, but raising your injured arm up above your head agitates your wound, torn muscles burning, and you can’t stop yourself from sucking in a sharp breath at the sting.

Smoker clicks his tongue, large hands gently wrapping around your forearms and lowering them back to your sides. “You need to rest.”

“Nooo, no I don’t. This is nothing,” you protest.

“You’re in pain.”

“I like a little pain.”

“Trust me, Y/n,” he says, touching under your chin. “I am well acquainted with the kind of pain you like. This ain’t it.”

“You’re literally not the boss of me.”

“And yet, so often, you beg me to be just that.”

Unamused, you tilt your head away so he isn’t touching you, trying not to frown as your heart sinks. By now, you should be an expert at dealing with disappointment, but it never gets easier. God, but it feels like a physical thing sometimes, creeping and icy like a winter sea. “By the time I heal enough, we’ll have parted ways again.”

“I know.” Smoker takes your hands in his; a small consolation.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you next.” You look at him, squeezing his hands.

“Pretend it’s the old days,” Smoker suggests, “when you couldn’t stand to even share a bunk with me.”

You smile at the memory–it seems like a lifetime ago. “That doesn’t help. I wanted to fuck you back then, too.”

That finally makes him smile slightly, the corner of his lip curling. “Then you’ll just have to wait,” he lets go of your hands to hold your face again, leaning in closer, “and I will take great satisfaction knowing you’re touching yourself in private, thinking about what I’ll do to you when I see you next.”

You wet your lips, pulse jumping at the thought. “Why don’t you give me a little preview? I mean, I did just save your life and all…”

Smoker grins, taking out his cigars with one hand and stubbing them in the palm of the other. It doesn’t hurt him given his Devil Fruit, but there’s something about the entire process, from watching the cigars leave his lips to hearing the sizzle as they’re put out, that just makes you wet. Maybe it’s a conditioned response–he’ll move his cigars out of the way to kiss you, but if he stubs them out, it means he intends on taking his time.

“Fine, but don’t complain when you get worked up for nothing.”

“I’ll deal.”

“You say that now–”

You grab the collar of his jacket with your good hand, using your full strength to yank him down to your level. “Would you please shut up and kiss me?”

Smoker responds with equal force, grabbing you by the neck. Your resulting moan is cut off by his lips crashing into yours.

Finally. It’s been months since you’ve last tasted him, even longer since you had him. And while you always missed him when you were apart, it was noticeably worse ever since he asked you to be exclusive. Maybe it was the knowledge that he wanted you to himself, the desire you now knew burned for no one else.

You part your mouth, tracing his lips with your tongue before sucking and nibbling on them. Smoker matches your energy, following your lead and biting your lower lip. Just as you start getting into it, your tongues meet, and suddenly he’s pulling away. “What?” you ask breathily. “What is it?”

“I changed my mind,” Smoker says.

“What?!”

“Any more and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish, but you don’t bother to hide your displeasure, even glaring slightly. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You know,” you cross your arms, wincing when it agitates your wound, “now that we’re monogamous, it’s kind of your job to meet my needs.”

Smoker looks at you sharply in surprise, but you don’t budge. You’ve dealt with misogynistic bullshit for so long, you’re allowed to weaponize it once in a while.

“You are injured,” he points at you, “I’m not letting you guilt me.”

“I’m just saying, that wouldn’t matter if we were slow and gentle about it–”

“When have we ever done slow and gentle?”

You raise a hand to retort, but then pause. Though you scramble for an example, no matter how much you think back, you realize it’s never really happened. Your meetings with Smoker were so few and far between that you two always ended up blowing off steam intensely. There was one time where your vacations overlapped and you spent a week at a rented cottage, and that was it. Slowly, you lower your hand. “Okay, you got me there.”

“And I promise I’ll get you there again,” Smoker says cheekily, “next time.”

This time, you do roll your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Yeah, here’s some more.” You roll your eyes three more times, just to push his buttons a little.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that one day,” Smoker says, having long-since wisened up to your tactics. “This is bait.”

“It is, but you don’t have to take it.”

“Only one of us is going to be taking it–”

Both your senses go off, Haki alerting you to a soldier approaching the tent–Tashigi. You pull away from each other, fixing your uniforms and putting on a strict air. The two of you have yet to be open about your relationship. Romance between soldiers wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but it was less messy to keep things under wraps.

With the mission over, your units would be going on their separate ships the following morning. This will be the last you see him for who knows how long.

Right before Tashigi reaches the tent, Smoker takes your hand suddenly, pulling you into a hug. He buries his face into your neck, taking in your scent.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mutters, then lets you go.

When Tashigi walks into the tent, you and Smoker aren’t standing as close, and Smoker’s re-lit his cigars.

Before you leave for the night, though, you tap on the exam table, a subtle farewell, and right before you leave the tent, you hear Smoker’s return tap.

It’s been three months since the end of the mission with Smoker. Out of the blue, you receive orders to return to the nearest Marine outpost, three weeks away by sail. The message contains no further information.

It’s not unusual to get such orders. Sometimes plans are too sensitive to be relayed even over a secure transponder snail channel. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying–you hate going on long trips blindly–but such is the nature of the job.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if anyone else would be summoned to the outpost. It could be that only one unit is called in. Occasionally, multiple units are called at once. There’s a small chance that others have indeed been called, and an even smaller chance that Smoker’s unit could be among them. But you snuff out the thought–getting excited only to be let down has happened too many times now, you know better than to get your hopes up. It’s simply not worth the disappointment, so you forget about the possibility.

From the number of ships at the dock, you can gauge that your unit is, in fact, not the only one that’s been called in, but you’re one of the first few to arrive. Whether others will come after is not your concern, so you disembark and head inside to be briefed on the reason you’re there in the first place.

Debriefings are boring. So is the down time in-between that and the following meetings, which are the most boring of all. Holding back a yawn is a monumental feat, but you manage, especially because Admiral Sakazuki is the one currently speaking. He’d tear you a new asshole if he caught you displaying such blatant disrespect.

You don’t care for Sakazuki at all. He’s exactly the kind of man the top brass looks for–rigid, humorless, and austere in his leadership. He’s also short-tempered, rude, and, in general, a giant douchebag. So while you stay alert and attentive as he talks, you have no qualms thinking to yourself, shut up, shut up, shut up…

Not curating your thoughts is a mistake. When Sakazuki mentions his annoyance at civilian interference with a mission, you aren’t able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in time, and he catches you.

The bellowing that follows is deafening, the admonishment humiliating. Sakazuki chews you out and spits you up, right there in front of everyone. Do it again and he won’t bother demoting you, he says, he’ll just roast you alive and serve you to your unit.

The room is dead silent when he finishes. You’ve never felt smaller.

Sakazuki takes a deep hit of his cigar, wraps up the meeting, and dismisses everyone. When you turn around, you see that Smoker is at the back, having joined in late–you didn’t even notice him with the Admiral’s presence bowling over everyone else’s energy. Smoker meets your eye, his gaze carefully blank. You look away as you pass by him.

“Y/n–” he starts to say.

You shake your head tersely, not willing to hear it. Smoker lets you leave.

It’s only a few hours later, after you’ve had some time to cool off, that he shows up again. You’re in the temporary quarters you’ve been assigned–at your rank, at least you have your own private room–laying in the bed when Smoker appears. A small stream of smoke comes from under the door and rises, gathering into a human shape. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s visited you covertly in that way. The shape solidifies and reforms into the man you love, who crosses the room and sits next to you on the bed.

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I know,” you mumble without looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Smoker just rests a hand on your knee and grunts.

Your zero tolerance for men shouting obviously can’t apply to those ranking above you, something you’ve had to accept as a fact of military life. It’s part of what drove you in your career, maybe even the root of your ambition, the reason you dream of being fleet admiral. Sometimes you wonder–is it a powerful woman’s determination to succeed? Or a little girl’s desperate bid for control and security, so that no one could ever assert themselves over her again? Either way, you long to be at the top, so you would never have to sacrifice your principles for the sake of your career ever again.

“Smoker,” you say, still staring at the ceiling. “Do you think ‘admiral’ and ‘admiration’ come from the same word?”

Smoker is quiet for a moment. By now, he knows you so well he probably knows what you’re thinking.

“Dunno, kid,” is his response.

“We’re the same age.”

“Nuh-uh.”

That makes you smile, and you sit up, crawling over and throwing your arms around Smoker. He hugs you back tightly.

“Try to control yourself next time, yeah?” he suggests, patting your back. “You won’t do the world any good demoted.”

“I’m not in this for the world. You know that.”

“Bullshit. You have the lowest rate of civilian losses of all commissioned officers.”

You pull away from him, blinking. “I do? That’s–wait, how do you know that?”

“I snuck into the records office last year.” Smoker caresses the back of your head. “Despite what you tell yourself, you’re a good person, a great soldier, and an amazing leader.”

Your chest swells–with love, with pride–but you raise your chin. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I am.”

You laugh. Part of what you loved about Smoker was his frankness. “I missed you so much.”

He removes his cigars from his mouth. “Show me.”

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him. Just like that, the anxiety of the day dissipates, like the smoke rising from his cigars, and fades away.

“That proof enough?” you ask playfully.

“No. You’ll need to do better than that, soldier.”

You reposition yourself, straddling his lap, and kiss him again passionately. His tongue swipes across your lips, but despite you parting them, he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, pulling away and trailing his fingers down your neck just to watch you shudder.

“I always did like,” he begins, “how a headstrong, driven gal like you would melt at just a touch.”

You’re a Rear Admiral. An elite, powerful soldier, well-versed in the six powers, and a wielder of both types of Haki. You can take out whole crews on your own. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are now, you want nothing less than to be the best. You have to be nothing short of perfect if you want any recognition.

It’s for that exact same reason why your interests in bed skew the way they do. Being strong all the time is exhausting. Relinquishing control is a release from that weight you carry. With Smoker, you can indulge in that with the complete trust that he’d never hurt you–it’s no wonder you’re weak for him in bed. So where you long to be at the top in your career, you’re quite happy, behind closed doors, to assume the opposite role.

Smoker stubs out his cigars in his palm. Just like before, the action has you pressing your legs together, heart picking up its rhythm. He turns to look for a trash can to throw them, you smack them out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Don’t make me wait, Captain,” you say impatiently, practically crawling onto him. “Not one moment longer.”

“Watch it,” he warns, but he’s smirking.

Smoker picks you up, stands, and turns to the wall, pinning you against it with his body. Then he grabs your face in one large hand and roughly kisses you. You kiss him back hungrily. All the stress from the day, all the frustration from the weeks without him, you pour it all into him. In turn, he lets you know with his tongue and his teeth just how much you’ve been missed. His thick thigh separates your legs while you make out, wedging snugly against your cunt. Back and forth, his thigh rubs into you, and back and forth, your tongues push and pull like waves against the other. There’s a bittersweet cigar flavor to him that you’ve grown addicted to. It tastes like passion and need and home all at once, and you can’t get enough.

Smoker sloppily kisses down your jaw, and you angle your head to make it easier for him, clutching onto his jacket. It’s hard to be rational after so long without his touch, but you’re a disciplined officer before anything else.

“You got condoms?” you ask breathily.

“I don’t,” he answers between kisses. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

You have a birth control implant in your upper arm, but always use a second form of contraception just to be safe–even the implant has a minuscule rate of failure. But that percentage seems incredibly insignificant at the moment.

“That’s okay,” you decide.

“I’ll pull out.”

“Yeah–mm!”

Smoker’s bitten down on the sensitive side of your neck. You clamp your thighs around his, gasping. You intended to touch him back, but as usual, once he starts sucking on your neck, you can’t focus on much else, a little whimper rising from your throat.

It feels so good, little goosebumps prickling throughout your whole body. “Smoker,” you whine helplessly.

He growls in response, a deep sound that makes you twitch between the legs.

“Smoker, no marks,” you barely manage to remind him.

He breaks away. “I know.”

The loss of contact restores some mental perception. As much as he gets off on service, you want to make him feel good too. You rake your nails down his chest, and he shuts his eyes, growling again in approval. Then you lean forward and, standing on your tip-toes, bite his neck, near the base where he likes it.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, digging his fingers into your hips. You can’t mark him either, so you have to keep it light, but he doesn’t seem to care. “There’s my good girl…”

You kiss and lick down his chest, digging your nails into his sides as you go. Smoker shudders as your tongue traces his abs, mouth warm on his skin. You keep going down further, but he stops you once your fingers reach the hem of his pants.

“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, pulling you back up by the arm and pressing you back into the wall. He leans in, caging you with his bulk. “Anything you want.”

You bite your lip, his forcefulness bringing something to mind. “Can you do the thing?”

“Make you lightheaded?”

You nod fervently, and Smoker wastes no time in grabbing your neck.

“No, I mean the other way.”

“Oh.”

“You can keep your hand there, though.” You grin up at him, and Smoker chuckles.

“That’s my needy little soldier, need me to keep you still, hm?” he praises. “Remember the safe signal?”

The safe signal is tapping ‘SOS’ on the other in morse code. You do so on his arm as a confirmation.

“Okay. You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans in and kisses you, sealing your mouth with his own. You grip his wrist, tense in eager anticipation for what comes next.

Smoker transforms a part of his body internally, and, very slowly, wafts it into your throat. You breathe him in gradually, a single, deep breath bringing the smoke into your lungs. You had discovered this particular little activity by accident years ago, but quickly found out two things: First, his smoke doesn’t make you cough, and second, the lack of oxygen makes your head swim in the best way.

The smoke in your chest is warm and comforting, even soothing. You breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose, where the smoke drifts back and reconnects to Smoker’s body. The first breath of him doesn’t do anything, the second starts to bring on a slight airiness, by the third inhale you’re lightheaded and wetter than you’ve ever been.

You grind on his thigh, eyes rolling back. The lightheadedness enhances the pleasure so much you'll cum soon if you keep it up. Smoker presses his thigh up into you further, making you moan, and you reach for his cock. He’s already unbuttoned his pants for relief, as he’s ragingly hard–doing this always gets him really worked up, too. Something about the trust, about being physically in contact with the most life-giving parts of you, about being inside you in a way no other person could be. He feels the pulse of life through your lungs, and it almost makes him as dizzy as he’s making you.

Smoker groans as you start massaging his cock, reflexively thrusting himself into your hand. Thanks to your Marine training, you can hold your breath longer than most, so you stay like that for a while, grinding on his thigh while stroking him and basking in the high, the bliss mounting quickly higher until it explodes. You cum hard against the solid bulk of his thigh, pulling your head back and gasping fresh air as your vision spots.

“There you go, good girl,” Smoker praises, grabbing your hips and grinding you onto his thigh to draw out your orgasm. “Take deep breaths for me.”

You do as instructed, holding onto him and closing your eyes, slowly regaining oxygen as your clit throbs in the wake of everything. You take a few minutes to recover, Smoker peppering kisses all over your face in the meantime.

“All clear,” you say, wrapping your arms around Smoker’s neck. “Fit for duty and reporting for action.”

He leans in and kisses you, then kisses your jaw, making his way to your ear, where he growls, “how do you want me?”

What a dumb question–do you ask a starving man which restaurant he wants to go to? “Don’t care. Just have me.”

“Suit yourself. You got a change of clothes here?”

“Yeah.”

Without further notice, Smoker grabs your shirt at the neckline and tears it off your body in one motion. He knows better than to do the same to your bra (after having yelled at him years ago that good ones aren’t cheap,) letting you take it off yourself. Then he adjusts you so only your upper back is leaning against the wall, your hips perched on his own, with your legs wrapped around him for support. Now having some space behind your lower back, he grabs your wrists and pins them there.

“Don’t complain about your choices later,” Smoker says, and kisses his way down your breast until he’s reached your nipple, which he takes into his mouth.

“No, Sir–ah!” you bite back your moan as he swirls his tongue, tugging helplessly against his hold on your wrists. “Fuck!”

His tongue prods and licks your nipple, eyes fixed on your strained face, then he messily pops off and goes to your other one, sucking it hard.

“Smoker! Ah! Please…” you moan. His attention to your chest is the worst kind of teasing, making your engorged clit ache to be touched. You try in vain to grind against him for some relief, but with your wrists pinned behind your back, you can’t get any leverage. “Please!”

Smoker detaches from your chest, leaving a rough bite to your breast before responding. “What did I say about complaining?”

“I changed my mind!”

“Imagine that.”

He goes back to slurping and sucking on your tits, and you can do nothing about it but struggle against him, gasping and moaning as his teeth gently scrape your nipples.

“Please, Sir!” you beg.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I need it!”

He kisses your nipple sloppily, pausing to ask, “you fantasize about it?” Then he sucks it into his mouth again, watching your expression as you struggle to respond.

“Yes! I–fuck–I thought about you every night!”

“What did you imagine me doing to you?”

“What do you think?” you whine, losing composure.

“Tell me.”

You could cry with frustration. He keeps teasing your chest while you try to form the words. “I thought about you–manhandling me, pulling my hair…”

“And?”

“And holding me down, and fucking me stupid!” you sobbed. “Please, please!”

“Please what, soldier?”

“Please use me for yourself! I want to forget everything but your name!”

He smirks, finally satisfied. “You sound damn good begging, you know that?”

Letting go of your wrists, Smoker tears your pants off of you as easily as he did your shirt, gripping the cloth so hard your underwear beneath is torn off with it. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his massive cock springing rigid against his abs, smearing pre-cum on his skin. You practically salivate at the sight, but he tilts your chin back up to look at him, then kisses you, tongue in your mouth as he lines himself up with your heat.

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he thrusts all the way inside your heat, and your breath turns into a broken moan.

“I know,” he growls, kissing up your neck, “attagirl, taking it all.”

“Oh my god,” you rest your head on his shoulder, overwhelmed by how good it feels. “Oh, Smoker…”

He pulls back his hips before rolling them into you, ripping a moan from you both. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He thrusts again. “And warm. So warm.”

Smoker starts up a brisk, steady pace, most of your upper body supported by his arms, just your upper back resting on the wall. It’s still not enough for him; he presses you back even further until you’re flat against the wall, thrusting up into you desperately. You grab onto his thick arms, fingers digging in, and hold on for the ride, eyes shutting tightly as he rapidly drags you back to another peak.

“Such a loyal little soldier, taking care of their captain…” he murmurs, and you cry out as you cum a second time. He moans at the feeling of your walls spasming around his cock, slowing down so he can kiss you.

Smoker pulls away from the wall, walking you toward the bed. Unable and unwilling to wait, you use the strength in your thighs to ride him standing, fucking yourself on his dick as he walks. The sensation makes him stagger and groan, cursing.

“So desperate for my cock,” he growls into your ear, then picks you up off his length and tosses you, face-down, onto the bed. Before you can so much as turn your head, he smacks your ass hard, making you moan, then grabs your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Well, Y/n?” he asks. “Am I meeting your needs now, you little slut?” He slaps your ass again, drawing another pathetic noise from you, then mounts you from behind, his broad torso covering your back.

Smoker teases the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you practically throw yourself back onto him. Growling, he grabs your hips and spears you on his length, grip bruising as he starts heavy, rough thrusts.

“Yes!” you cry, finally getting what you’ve craved all these months. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You take it so well, Y/n, and you’re all mine.” Smoker lets go of your hip with one hand to instead curl his fingers into your hair at the base, pulling your head back so he can growl into your ear, “I love knowing that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

“Captain!” you moan, bracing against his powerful hips. “Don’t stop!”

He doesn’t slow down for a moment, never changing pace, working you back up and up and up until you’re moaning with every thrust.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Me too,” he pants. “Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good.”

“Finish inside!”

“What–?”

“Please!”

He slows for just a moment in his surprise, but then gets back to his former pace. “Ain’t there a chance you could get pregnant?”

Now, you weren’t interested in having children. The idea occasionally had some appeal, but you preferred your life as it was. And yet, for some reason, at Smoker’s words, you felt your clit throb and your cunt clench around his dick tightly, enough that he definitely noticed.

“You want that?” Smoker says in disbelief.

“No!” you cried, but it was too late, he pulled your head back again and spoke into your ear.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to knock you up?”

You clenched down on him again involuntarily as you sobbed, “that’s not it!”

But Smoker had found a new weak point of yours, and pounced on it fully. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna make you have my baby,” he growled, “then you’ll really be mine forever.”

The edges of Smoker’s form begin to wisp. You’ve heard of inexperienced Logia types losing control of their form when stressed, something fixed with training. At Smoker’s level, it only happened to him when he was about to cum really hard.

“Or is it,” Smoker pants, “you just want to be full of my cum that badly? You’d risk it just to have me claim you… Oh–oh, fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back as you both hit your peak at the same time, Smoker emptying hot and thick inside you, his groan coming from deep in his belly. The nerves of your cunt spark and snap and go off like fireworks, showering your whole body in bliss that radiates in waves. His head rests on yours, his lips finding the back of your neck, kisses now soft and chaste instead of rough and wet.

Smoker readjusts you to both lay down, not pulling out, just holding you to his chest. You close your eyes as both of you catch your breath, soaking in the closeness while you can. You take in everything you can of that moment: his scent, the sweat rolling down your bodies, his firm body against and inside you still, his arms holding you close. You try and imprint it into your brain, so you can hold onto the memory in the coming lonely months without him.

“I love you,” Smoker says softly.

“I love you too,” you murmur. He’s quiet after that, but you can sense that there’s something else he wants to say. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about getting married someday?”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. The look in his eyes is the same as always: serious and forthright, though now beholding you, there’s a gentleness in them as well. He pulls out and you turn around so you’re facing him.

“Serious?” you whisper.

“Well, you don’t want kids. I gotta do something to make you mine.”

You smile. “Smoker, you don’t have to do anything.” You take his face in your hands. “It’s always been you. You’re the only one who gets me, and who makes an effort. It’s always been you.” You lean in to kiss him. “I would love to get married someday.”

“Good,” he grunts, but there’s a flush to his cheeks. Then he breaks into a rare, genuine smile of excitement. “Really?”

“First I’m going to become an Admiral.”

“What about Fleet Admiral?”

“That can come before or after.”

“Okay.” he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “I don’t doubt you’ll make it.”

“I don’t either,” you say.

Not as long as you have his support.

#one piece smut #smoker one piece #smoker x reader #zen writes

444 notes · View notes

cthulhu-calling · 3 months ago

Text

Camisado 1

Dark!Steve Rogers x female!Reader

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you. You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : 1950's AU, smut, misogyny, factual inaccuracies, lots of talk of pregnancy (seriously, this is a major content warning)

Author’s Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. It has all the period typical sexism but considering that when I imagine readers, they're always woc, there will be no period typical racism. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I tried to do as much research on life in 1950's America so please be kind and let me know what you think!

Word Count : 5k

masterlist

You fell back on the couch, deciding on taking a small break after having spent the whole morning dusting and vacuuming the house. You still had to do the dishes and hang the clothes out to dry. Your mama always said, a man’s home is a reflection of the woman he’s with, and so you made sure to keep the house in near perfect condition. You looked up at the clock, a wedding gift from Steve’s ma. You adored Sarah Rogers, she was almost like a second mother to you. It was already past noon and you really needed to get a move on. You had less than an hour to take a quick shower and then make a quick lunch for you and Steve to take to the garage.

Finishing your shower in record time, you quickly add chicken soup, flour, pepper and cayenne into the slow cooker followed by stirring in the chicken and veggies. You knew Steve always enjoyed your slow cooked chicken a la king. You could leave it on and it would be ready just in time for dinner. Packing a quick ham and cheese sandwich for the both of you, you placed it in your bag before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror. You had on a sleeveless white blouse with a blue, floral-a-line circle skirt and black kitten heels along with a classic red lip. Steve always preferred you in skirts and dresses as opposed to pants or trousers.

With ten minutes before the clock struck one, you quickly made your way out of the house and began the short walk to the garage where Steve worked. You always brought Steve his lunch and spent the half hour of his lunch break with him and today was no exception. You’d been married for just over a year now and the two of you had decided that you’d wait for a while before starting a family, wanting to just enjoy each other’s company for a while before you added children to the mix. But it was established that you both wanted kids. While two would be more than enough for you, Steve wanted three, at the very least.

You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.

And exactly three years later, on your twenty-second birthday, he asked you to marry him. And you said yes, of course. The two of you got married two months after that day, in an intimate ceremony with only the closest of friends and family. Steve worked as a mechanic at Mr. Stark’s garage, making more than enough for the two of you. After the monthly expenses, the mortgage on the house and your savings were covered, you had just enough left every month to go out for a fancy dinner and to the movies once.

As you reached the garage, you spotted Steve bent over the open bonnet of a car, tinkering around. Taking this opportunity to startle him, you walk up behind him as slowly and noiselessly as possible before placing a hand on his shoulder, calling out his name, causing him to startle and hit his head on the bonnet. He curses loudly before turning around, the anger evident in his eyes which burns out a little when he sees you. “You should know better than to do something like that doll,” he whispers in your ear, pulling you close by your waist before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the heat rising to your face as you look towards your feet, licking your lips as you mumble out an apology.

“Why don’t you take a seat doll, I’ll be done here in five,” he says before continuing to work on the engine. You nod as you take a seat a little distance away, pulling out the book you got from the library last week, smoothing out the dog-eared edge before diving back into the book. Just as you were about to finish the chapter you’d been reading, Bucky walks out of Mr. Stark’s office, snatching the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” you huff out a protest, reaching out for the book that he proceeded to hold above his head. Laughing heartily at your antics, Steve comes up behind Bucky to snatch the book and hands it back to you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively.

Rolling his eyes at that, Bucky continues “Nat needs y’all to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he says as he opens his lunch, digging into the food. Bucky and Natasha were Steve’s friends and had become yours too when you started dating him. The two had been married for five years now. Natasha was probably the most badass woman you’d ever met and while you hoped your mama never caught you saying that, it was true. She was headstrong and never took any crap from anyone. She was a nurse and while you admired her, you were a bit envious of the fact that she was a working woman. Steve didn’t allow you to work. He believed that it was his job to earn money to support you and while you would have still loved to work, you understood that things couldn’t always go your way.

“What for? We’re going to my ma’s tomorrow night,” he questioned as you handed him his sandwich, before grabbing your own.

“Go to Sarah’s some other day. Nat’s going to prepare a feast and she needs you there. Sam and Wanda and Clint and the family are coming too. Come with your appetites prepared,” he said, finishing off the last of his lunch before dusting his hands off and getting back to work, “No excuses, be there by seven. And for god’s sake Rogers, look presentable.”

“Beat it, punk,” Steve yelled as Bucky moved away with a wave of his middle finger. You looked at Steve, giggling, before promising, “I’ll drop by and make her some soup for tonight. I’ll spend the night too if need be. Don’t worry, we’ll go to Nat’s tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek before removing yourself from his lap, packing up your bag. “I should get going, let you get back to work. I have lots to do at home,” you wave a goodbye, Steve watching your hips sway.

Steve knew you were the perfect dame for him. He loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. He knew you’d be the perfect wife and mother to his children. He wanted you just to himself for a little time before the two of you started a family because he knew once he got you pregnant, he planned on keeping you round and full of himself for as long as possible. Just the thought of you barefoot and pregnant under his roof, cooking for him and his children, your breasts swollen and heavy with milk for his child. Just the thought of you pregnant and oh, so sensitive because of him, it all turned him on more than you could ever imagine.

He vowed to start trying to get you pregnant soon.

By the time you got done with all your chores around the house, you were exhausted. Dinner was done about halfway and the chicken noodle soup for Sarah was done and packed for you to take to her. She wasn’t feeling too well the past few days so you and Steve were going to visit her tomorrow with dinner, just to check up on her. But now, you’d already called and told her about your plans for tomorrow evening and that you’d swing by today before dinner. She was rather accommodating, claiming that the two of you needed to spend time with people your age. And she sounded much better as well. Her cold seemed to have improved and she sounded more energetic.

At half past five, you decided to get to Sarah's house. She lived close enough, just a couple of houses down the street. When you and Steve got married, you decided to get a house close enough to both his ma and your parents as well. Which reminded you that you needed to visit your mama soon as well. You had borrowed her Vogue knitting books, and it was high time you gave them back. You quickly make the ten minute walk to her house and let yourself in using your set of keys to enter the house, not wanting Sarah to move around too much but to your surprise, you find her in the kitchen, humming a tune you couldn’t quite recognise, cooking what smelled like her famous lasagna causing your mouth to water instantly, the response Pavlovian at this point.

“You’re supposed to be in bed ma, not prancing around the kitchen doing only the Lord knows what,” you say as she turns around, giving you a wide smile.

“Don’t you dare sass me kid. Is that really how you greet your poor old mother in law?” she asked as she walked out of the kitchen, pulling you into a tight hug. Giving you a final squeeze, she grabbed your hands in her frail ones, leading you towards the living room.

Stopping her halfway, you let go of her hand before holding up the thermos full of warm soup that you had brought.

“I’m going to put this away for now. Heat it up before you eat it, okay?” you instructed as you moved towards the kitchen, putting the soup to the side before moving your hair out of your face and tying on an apron.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing missy?” she said as she followed you into the kitchen, thin arms crossed across her chest.

“Doing your dishes, what else?”

“Is anything I say going to make you stop?” she wondered out loud.

“Fat chance,” you said as you rolled your eyes.

“Well, you better hang around until the lasagna is done, I’ll pack some for Steve. Speaking of which, where is that boy?,” she said.

“Still at the shop I believe,” you answered, almost done with the few dishes.

“I see,” she says, an odd look passing over her face but she doesn’t say anything further so you continue to work in a comfortable silence.

Wiping your hands when you were done, you removed your apron and put it back in its place. “Alright ma, I should get going. Steve must be back by now,” you said as you took your bag, a large oven dish of lasagna in your hands, moving towards the door, only to be stopped by her.

“Tell me my dear, have y’all thought about babies yet?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at her with a confused look. “We’ve decided to wait. And we’ve only been married a year now,” you answer.

Laughing lightly, she squeezes your hand in hers before letting go. “Alright. You tell that boy to come see me soon, okay?” You nod and wave goodbye as you start walking home. Checking the time on your watch, you’re horrified to find it’s already quarter to seven and increasing your pace, almost running to get back home before Steve. You reach home with just five minutes before the clock strikes seven, having just enough time to freshen up and fix your hair before the doorbell rings.

At the sight of you, a smile quickly overtakes his face which you can’t help but reciprocate. As soon as he walks in he has his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You quickly push him away with a giggle, “At least wash your hands first!”

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he says, squeezing your ass which causes you to squeak. Laughing, he hangs his cap and goes to freshen up as you get to setting dinner out.

At the table, you tell Steve of his mom’s request and he agrees, saying he’ll go see her on Sunday.

“Any clue what this impromptu get-together at Bucky and Nat’s is about ?”

“I tried but couldn’t get anything outta him. Guess we’ll only know tomorrow,” he shrugged.

“I should call and ask if she needs any help,” you said after dinner once you were done with clearing the table and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve was in the living room with a book and a beer. You couldn’t afford a television just yet but Steve had been saving up and according to him, you’d be able to get one in a month or two.

He hummed absentmindedly, which meant he wasn’t really paying attention. Sighing, you quickly rang Nat up. It was Bucky who answered the phone.

“Hey, is Nat there?” you asked.

“Sure, I’ll just put her on,” he said and you could hear him calling out to Natasha in the background.

“Hello dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she laughed.

Giggling, you reply “Just wanted to check if you needed any help for tomorrow. It was rather impromptu and I heard that everyone is coming,” to which she only huffed and said “I just require you and Steve to show up, that’s all. Now I got loads to do honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said as she swiftly hung up leaving you a little stunned.

“That was weird,” you think out loud as you sit down next to Steve on the couch, his arm immediately draping itself around your shoulder and pulling you into his body. You snuggle closer, a content sigh slipping from your lips.

“Don’t think so much, it’s probably nothing,” he soothes, his fingers playing with the collar of your blouse. Oh, so he was listening.

“But-“ you start, immediately silenced by Steve shushing you. “Enough about this. We’ll go there tomorrow and find out,” he chastises, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Deciding to just let it go for now, you untangle yourself from Steve who lets you go albeit a bit reluctantly and get ready for bed. It takes you some time to fall asleep but with Steve’s arm around your waist, holding you close, you manage to get a few hours of rest.

You fixed your pretty yellow sundress and checked your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. Modest but tempting. Perfect. Just as you were about to call out to Steve, he emerged from the bath, freshly shaved. Still not dressed, you tilt your head towards the cupboard, urging him to get dressed quickly.

Rolling his eyes playfully, selecting a simple khaki and the baby blue shirt you’d left out for him. Steve combed his hair back, following you out of your bedroom, watching you pack up his ma’s lasagna. You knew it was Bucky’s favourite, it was almost everybody’s favourite, having not let him eat any of it last night.

You knew Nat hadn’t asked you to bring anything with you but your mama would never let you leave home for a party without a little something for the hosts. So here you were, outside Nat and Bucky’s door, a tray of lasagna in your hands and Steve’s arms around your waist. Bucky opened the door with a wide smile, a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Come on in, kids!” He almost yelled, definitely a little tipsy. Smiling at him, you stepped inside and Steve closed the door behind the two of you.

Sam and Wanda sat on the couch, each nursing their own bottle of beer and a glass of wine respectively. She smiled and waved at you, patting the couch on her side, inviting you to take a seat. Holding up the lasagna, you tilted your head, motioning towards the kitchen.

Natasha and Wanda both drank occasionally. You didn’t though. Steve didn’t like you drinking, not even a beer on the occasion. It was all your fault really.

It was your best friend from school Ella’s twentieth birthday. Just you and a couple of other people from your class decided to surprise her with a little get together near the lake by the old lighthouse. You knew there would be alcohol but as long as you didn’t drink too much and were aware of your surroundings, things would be fine right?

Wrong. Steve had been by your parents house, looking for you and being told exactly where and with who you were, he couldn’t control his rage. He didn’t approve of ‘Ella and her posse of bimbos’, as he put it. You knew that and while you didn’t agree with him, it was the reason you couldn’t tell him about your whereabouts that night.

When he finally found you, you were sitting on a little picnic blanket, half drunk bottle of beer in your hands, chatting away with Ella and her boyfriend. You were a little tipsy but immediately sobered up at the sight of Steve storming towards you.

You quickly got up, dropping the bottle as it rolled off somewhere, the sound of your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins deafening. Ella tried to intercept him, trying to get him to stop and talk but he just ignored her and continued to walk towards you, grabbing hold of your upper arm. You yelped loudly at how tight his grip was, trying to get him to let go of you as he dragged you away from the lake and towards his motorcycle.

At a distance from the lake, he finally let go of your arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut.

“Ste-,”

“Shut up. I don’t want a word out of you,” he spat.

You quickly shut your mouth, taking a step back from him.

“How many times, huh? How many fucking times have I told you to stay away from that girl? And yet, here you are, dressed like a slut, drinking away with that stupid whore and her friends,” he says viciously, taking a step forward for each one you took back until you were backed up against a tree.

You were terrified. You’d never seen him this angry before, at least not at you.

“You are never to see that girl again, do you understand?” he barks, causing you to nod your head so hard, you thought your neck might snap.

“Good. Let’s get you home. Put this on,” he says as he holds up his jacket for you which you promptly slip on, following him to his motorcycle. You don’t even realise when you start crying, the tears streaming down your face making the skin burn against the harsh wind.

When you finally reached home, you got off wordlessly, shrugging off his jacket which was hanging from your smaller frame and handing it to him. You turned to walk back towards the front door only to be stopped by him grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him.

At the sight of the wet trails streaking your face, a flash of guilt passes in his eyes but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived.

“You know I’m saying this because I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you, you know that right?”

You can only nod numbly, as he gives you a small smile and a peck on the lips before gesturing for you to go back in, watching you till you’ve gone inside and locked the front door.

Of course, you wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. Ignoring his phone calls or having your mama pick up the phone, telling him you weren’t home when he came knocking.

You made him grovel and plead, letting him know just how angry you were but in the end, you gave in. You loved him, with his flaws and all.

Pulling yourself out of your little daydream, you walked towards the kitchen where you could hear Natasha moving about. As you walked, you admired the picture frames that adorned the walls. You loved Nat and Bucky’s house, so happy and full of memories. You couldn’t wait to have that with Steve.

“Now, didn’t I tell you not to get anything? I’m cooking up a storm here, who’s gonna eat all of this?” She questioned, her hands on her hips, over mitts on her hands and a frilly apron on.

You laughed and moved closer to give her a quick peck on her cheek, putting the lasagna on the counter.

“It’s Sarah’s lasagna. You don’t have to worry about it going to waste,” you tried.

“Oh, I know. But you know my cooking can’t compare to hers!” She complained mockingly. Sharing a laugh, you start helping about, feeling odd just standing there doing nothing. She lets you help but refuses to tell you why she wanted everyone to come over when you tried to ask.

You had to give it to her though, she really had outdone herself. As you helped her take the food to the table, you were in awe. Tuna noodle casserole, beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes completed with the perfect buttermilk pie. The sight alone made your mouth water and tummy grumble.

At the delicious scent wafting from the dining table, everyone slowly poured in, each of them grabbing a plate and loading it up. You couldn’t wait to dig in, everything looked mouthwatering. Jokes were made and compliments given, you made to take a bite but were immediately stopped by the conversation taking place across from where you and Steve sat.

Bucky was urging Natasha to take a bigger helping of the mashed potatoes. While that was not particularly surprising, the next bit caused everyone to stop and stare.

“You really should take some more,” he says, adding another heap of the potatoes to her plate, “you’re eating for two now.”

You’d never heard silence quite this loud, everyone stopped midway, staring at Natasha and Bucky. Not Clint’s children of course, they couldn’t be bothered by much. They were busy stuffing their little faces with the feast Nat had prepared.

After a minute or two of utter silence, a cheer broke out and Natasha and Bucky sighed, exchanging small smiles of relief.

You, along with Laura and Wanda got up almost simultaneously, rushing around to envelop Natasha in a giant bear hug, who had started crying at this point. The boys were all congratulating Bucky, patting him on the back and making lewd jokes. The children seemed clueless as to what the fuss was all about but declared their merriment by making various noises as well.

When everyone has settled down, continuing with their meals, the relative silence is broken by Wanda, “We get to be godparents, right?” She questions, motioning between herself and Sam. That’s when Steve pipes up, “You guys are already godparents to Cooper. I think it’s our turn.”

“Exactly! What do you say Natty?” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully at her.

Huffing a laugh, she adds “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Can we just enjoy this lovely meal I worked so hard to make?”

This shuts everyone up, again passing praises and compliments her way. Once the meal came to a close, it was already well past the kids' bedtime so Clint and Laura took off, followed by Sam and a rather tipsy Wanda. You stayed back to help Natasha clean up, despite her protests.

“You’re a pregnant woman and I’m already mad enough you did all of this by yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself Barnes, letting your pregnant wife do all the work,” you chastised.

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Steve chuckles but otherwise stays quiet.

When you’re done with most of the dishes and having packed up the few leftovers, you and Steve take your leave, walking back hand in hand in the silent darkness.

Your Steve, you know him well. And you can tell, just by one look in his face that there’s a lot on his mind. You know better from experience that when he’s in such moods, it’s best to leave him alone. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind before bed, you know it for sure.

So for now, you just walk home, swinging your joined hands back and forth as he’s lost in his own head.

Done getting ready for bed, you slip under the covers, waiting for Steve to join you. You don’t have to wait long, just as you pick up your book for some reading before bed, he slips under the covers, snatching the book from your hand. Your protest is short lived as he pulls you close into a bruising kiss.

His lips travel down your throat, trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone before you stop him as he moves to pull your silk slip over your head.

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet all evening,” you grab his cheek in your hand, making him look at you.

He sighs loudly, moving away to sit back against the headboard.

“C’mon Steve, tell me.”

You move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Just as you’re about to urge him to say something he interrupts you.

“Let’s have a baby.”

You’re quiet for a while and he takes your silence as a request to continue.

“It’s been on my mind for so long. We’ll start with one. For now. I can’t wait for our home to be filled with little ones. I just —I’ve been thinking of this for so long. The fact that Nat and Bucky are expecting just solidified my decision. Don’t you want a baby?”

Swallowing, you plan out your words carefully before opening your mouth.

“We’re not ready Stevie. You know this. We’ve been married what, a year now? I thought we decided to wait,” you try.

“But I don’t want to wait anymore! Can’t you see? There’s no time like now to start trying,” he raises his voice and you flinch away from him.

“I don’t know Stevie. I’m really tired, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“No!” He shouts, “I want to talk about this now. We’re ready. I know we’re ready,” he reaffirms, grabbing you by your arms to hold you close.

“Steve, we’re not. We’re nowhere ready for a baby. We’ve just begun saving, can we even support a child right now?” You try to make him see some sense but it backfires tremendously.

“Really? I work so hard for you, for us, but that’s not enough for you, is it? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?” His tone and his hurtful words immediately cause your eyes to fill, a couple errant tears slipping down. His grip on you is painful, almost bruising.

At the sight of your eyes brimming, tears streaking their way down your pretty face, his anger dissipates and his face fills with worry. He moves forward to cup your face in his hands, but you flinch away from him, pulling the covers back and stepping out of bed with your pillow in hand.

“I-uh- I’ll take the couch,” you stutter out, sniffling between every word.

“No, no, no. Baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, please come back to bed,” he says, scrambling out of bed as you continue towards the door.

“No, please baby. I’m sorry, please come back to bed,” he pleads, getting on his knees in front of you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you in place, his chin resting on your soft stomach.

He looks up at you with eyes quickly filling with tears, threatening to overflow. Your heart melts at the sight and you close your eyes, nodding your head slowly and he sighs, burying his face into your stomach, his tears causing your slip to dampen slightly.

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry,” his voice comes out muffled but you understand him anyway.

You nod your head, telling him you’ll think about kids. You really would. That night he held you close after making love to you, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip out into the darkness in the middle of the night. He whispered the deepest of apologies and praises into your ear as he drew orgasm after orgasm from your prone body.

You knew he regrets what he said. You were well aware that he wanted a big family. Growing up, it had always been just him and his Ma. His father was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too drunk to care about much. He aspired to be everything that his father wasn’t, a real family man.

And you know you want to give him that but you need some time, you haven’t even been married that long. And you will think about it much more seriously now. What’s wrong with having a child? He works so hard for you, to make sure you’re not left needing anything, can’t you do at least this much for him? You’re home all day anyway, it’s not like you have a job like Nat. Plus, you’re lucky to have him and that he cares about you and what you want. Most men wouldn’t have bothered asking their wives if and when they wanted children. You find your resolve weakening. You will tell him that you’re ready to start trying and it’s unlikely you will fall pregnant on the first try. You have some time, you tell yourself all the while trying to smother that voice inside you that whispers, ‘You should wait’.

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #1950s au #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #sarah rogers #smut #fluff #angst #power imbalance #period typical sexism #abusive relationships #pregnancy

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blueberryarchive · 1 year ago

Text

RECORDING (+18)

Were you move in to Montenegro Hills. A peaceful neighborhood with caring neighbors and walking dogs at 6pm.

The night of the welcome party, you meet Park Jimin: the president of the neighborhood committee. After a few shots and a little bit of flirting, he makes a proposal you thought you'll never hear from anyone in your life.

▶pairing; stalker!jimin x fem!reader

▶word count; 13.4k

▶genre: 80's au, enemies and lovers, thriller

▶tw; grammar mistakes (english is not my first language), horny!jimin all the way, your boy Hoseok it's a freak too, gore scenes (blood, wounds, death, descriptions of pain and bodily fluids), toxic relationship, smut (dub-con/non-con, penetration, knife play, degrading names, manhandling, spanking, fingering, choking, mating position) everyone in here is a piece of shit ngl, misogyny, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

▶playlist; 📼

Record, the verb, comes from the word cor or cord in Latin, which means heart or remember, which in itself is beautiful. To repeat over and over again, to keep track of it, to save it in the memory. Save is one of his favorite words to describe what he does. Salvus as in to keep safe, in both senses.

There's nothing more precious to him than his collection of VHS tapes in the little room in the hall. All were put in alphabetical order and cleaned every Friday when he was free from work.

To watch every movie again and again, to remember the little details to heart, the dialogues, the gestures; he loved it. He loved taking care of it.

Now, it was Friday and, you see, as he was in the row from D to H, he heard one of the most precious pieces close the door abruptly of her Ford Cortina, just right outside of his house. He walked slowly through the hall of the rather dark place, the curtains were closed most of the time. His neighbors took it for privacy.

Jimin was a very quiet and sheltered man, but he was very polite and helpful. Always there in Montenegro's activity programs, charity funds, birthdays, and Christmas parties. He helped with the food, made the kids laugh, and the wives adored him. Jimin was the best neighbor, and he worked hard for it.

As he moved closer, his finger brushed the hem of the curtain in the living room, letting the sunlight paint a streak across his face. His eye settled on your feet, more like the heels. Who moved in with heels on?

You were wearing slingback pumps and a little pencil skirt, coming straight from work. Tired and all sweaty in the middle of the summer, when people remember why they don't like the heat in the first place. Jimin enjoyed it. It made people come out of their houses and forage for a little bit of shadow and conversation.

The white blouse you wore, had a little white bow that made you look like a dainty Victorian doll. The translucent blobs forming under your armpits were beginning to drip sweat down the sides of your ribs. You took a small carry-on suitcase from the co-pilot and closed the door putting on your dark, cat-shaped sunglasses. Chanel, so you also had money. The prices in Montenegro are not cheap by any means, but the people here are all so subtle in the ways they show it, with guilt and tight lips. But you weren't afraid to show that you could afford things, that maybe you loved the sound of pearls on your wrists and the sweet smell of Angel by Mugler on your clothes.

If he wasn't in his pajamas, Jimin would have opened his door to introduce himself just to let his nose feel the pleasure of your aroma in that heat.

Jimin knew that you were going fast and that you didn't want anyone to know about your arrival until you were in better condition. He looked at his wristwatch, it was barely five in the afternoon, and he didn't know if there was time.

One way or the other.

He grabbed the corded phone near his couch and plopped down crossing his legs. With one hand he dialed a number so quickly that his fingers seemed to move automatically.

With the other, he searched for a roll in his work suitcase. It took less than the ringing of the call to put the film into the camera, a '72 Olympus, a beauty that belonged to his mother.

"Mm." answered a scratchy voice, Hoseok wasn't in the mood and that wasn't a good start.

"Hoseok, I need you to convince Nancy to have a party tonight, well, maybe not tonight but-." he put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking to the window. You were still inside, but the Cortina door was still open.

"What do you want me to do? She won't do anything until she's six months in." Hoseok exhaled. "Why a party? Who is it this time?"

Jimin wrinkled his nose, focusing the camera just as you went out to close the door. A single suitcase of clothes, your Chanel glasses, and your blurred lipstick. You were a work of art, he had to convince Hoseok to create an excuse.

"Park," Hoseok mumbled as the bustle of his office sounded on the other end of the line.

"Let's meet the new neighbor."

"Neighbor? I haven't heard Nancy speak of a neighbor at any time."

Click, just as you close the door. Click, the strokes of your hands and your quick steps.

"I'm seeing her now."

"Now? Is she already with you?" Hoseok sounded hurt, offended. His annoyance changed to a muffled, nasal voice.

"No, I wouldn't meet anyone without you, Jung." Jimin chuckled, his cheekbones popping with the jeer in his voice. "She's in front, where the Jimenez used to live."

"Yeah, okay—You better not." Hoseok interrupted.

Jimin closed the curtain and looked at the door at the end of the hall, three locks keeping it secure.

"So will you talk to Nancy?"

"Let's see, the hormones have her in a frenzy and she still forbids me to even drink, smoke or fuck her. I'm going insane." Nancy was Hoseok's wife, she was a sweet and calm girl, she always smiled and her voice reminded Jimin a lot of Shelley Duvall. A sheep with deep black eyes, like two dark lakes. She was Hoseok's jewel. Park didn't believe how sweet Hoseok could be with her, knowing how he could be outside his bubble, he pampered her fervently and always saw her like searching for scrapes and bruises.

Jung Hoseok was the perfect husband. Handsome and caring, made everyone light up with his contagious laughs.

They were one of the most beloved couples in Montenegro. Nancy was in charge, not officially but popularly, as the person who organized the parties. They were always the best. The best-grilled meats, iced tea, and the best conversations after a mojito or two. It was in these places that Jimin caught the big fish. But since Nancy's pregnancy, things have been quiet in the Jung household.

Nancy had become paranoid, barely leaving the house, walking around the patio of her house barefoot and in nightgowns. The women of her family tended to lose pregnancies easily, and every time she had a pregnant friend, or anyone for that matter, she treated them like porcelain, hundreds of tips on how to take care came out of her heart-shaped lips.

Now that it's her turn to be the pregnant one, she doesn't wear tight clothes and doesn't go upstairs. She eats hot things if Hoseok cooks because she's afraid of the stove. She thinks that her body, due to an uncontrolled impulse, will throw itself into the flames.

Convincing her wouldn't be easy, but Jimin hadn't seen her neighbors in a while, and seeing you caused his chest to shrink with curiosity. You were attractive, even when you thought you weren't.

Hours passed without any sign of life, dead hours in which Jimin decided to work on developing the photos he had taken of you. The pungent smell of vinegar and chemicals in the small room bathed in red light. His hands covered in black latex immersed the piece of paper in the water until the image appeared like a cloud of grays: your face, your hands, your hair sweating. Such a recent memory and he had already missed it.

He held the photo closer to the hanging light bulb, it was perfect. Even though it had come out a little blurry, he told himself that it made him want to have it more, the two minutes it had taken you to get there, close the windows, take out your suitcase, and look around you were fleeting. So having a small detail, like a photograph of a bird that was believed to be extinct or that of a very distant planet. He began to be fond of your nebulous figure.

His first frame of you.

Two clamps held the material on the cord so it could finish drying. The ringing of the phone brought Jimin out of his hedonism, he didn't wait for it to ring twice. Now, the words Hoseok said as he picked up the phone made the man smile.

"Saturday, 6 p.m. At my house." God bless Hoseok's convincing tactics. He must have made up an article in the newspapers about how Boston University theorized that a lack of communication with the outside world could cause hormonal problems and even affect the psyche of the fetus.

Wait…Saturday?

"You say tomorrow? It's too early, I don't have anything prepared yet."

Hoseok laughed. "No, moron, next week."

Jimin took off his gloves, disappointed with how little effort his partner had put into his work.

"That's a whole week away."

"You should suck my dick for getting something in the next four months."

"If you weren't as useless and ate her out, you would have had it by this Sunday, at least."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, twirling a pen in his fingers. His eyes were arranged in a corner of his office, and with a sigh, his legs spread out. "Describe her to me."

Jimin smiled searching for a cigarette in the kitchen, the phone in his hand, the cord jumping a little by his steps. He switched the phone to his other ear as he turned on the tip. "She's not a Maeve, she's not your typical Montenegro mom, maybe more like a workaholic like Charlie."

"Any children?" Hoseok interrupted excitedly.

"No, I don't think so. She has a very… disorganized style for being a mom."

"Divorcee?"

"I don't think this woman spent more than six months with the same man." Both men laughed, Jimin brought the cigarette to his mouth but stopped mid-action when he saw a shadow pass through the living room window. "Wait." Jimin put down the phone and walked into the hallway. The VHS were arranged, shiny and neat, on the right shelf.

They hadn't knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Jimin raised his shoulders tensely. It was you? Could it be true that Jimin was lucky enough to not have to poison you with chemicals until he dragged you into his bed? That he didn't need Hoseok's charms to convince you that what they were doing was sick, but he just needed a little alcohol, a little bit of will from you, too.

He walked quickly to the door and opened the handle with so much pressure that it made noise. The young girl on the other side of the door flinched, opening her eyes like a frightened bird before smiling at the man who was sweating at the front door.

This is Cosette, for the second time this week.

If Jimin didn't know how to control himself, Cosette would have been planted in the garden serving as fertilizer a long time ago. He fervently hated teenagers, of all types: athletic ones, Star Wars fans, those who went to his movie theater to make out with their boyfriends for the three hours of the Gone With the Wind special, those who drove in their parents' Chevelle speeding through the streets; all of them. Especially those from Montenegro.

Cosette wasn't part of any of the groups mentioned, but don't let her think that Jimin hated her any less. Cosette, who had a strange taste in everything, including her social circle, was at her door. Her hair was always in a high bun, her bangs covered her forehead, a jean jacket that hid her body, and bright pink lips that made Park's eyes water.

She always carried something new with her, something for Jimin to notice and talk about. This time, she had a kerchief tied around her head colored in a nauseating green. She smiled even more when she saw that Jimin was only wearing an unbuttoned t-shirt.

He looked in the direction of your house, the curtains still closed. Shit.

"Cosette," he greeted her, pressing his lips into a smile. He refused to look at her bow so she wouldn't mention it either.

"Mr. Park, today is Friday. I wanted to bring you the films you lent me so you can clean them up and keep them organized." Her voice was tremulous as she blatantly looked at Jimin's arms and chest.

"Thank you," his eyes narrowed as he held up the stack of rectangular drawers his neighbor handed him. "I'll definitely have something by Cronenberg or Kubrick for you next week."

Cosette blushed aggressively. "Dad says Kubrick is just an excuse to watch women being-"

Her words stuck in her throat as Jimin's dark pupils sat on her features, lips slightly parted.

"It's sex, Cosette." Jimin exhaled, leaving the VHS on a table. "Nothing is going to happen to you if you see it, much less if you say it." His hand went to the girl's shoulder, her fingers curling around themselves anxiously.

"Yes, obviously. I know that. " The girl looked down, letting silence cover time. "Do you think I can help you with cleaning your collection this week?"

Jimin smiled sweetly and denied. This was Cosette's way of wanting to interfere in his life or maybe she thought something would happen if she stood in the middle of his living room and closed the door. What a poor fool, she really made him feel sorry for her. That's why he tried to find a healthier and legal connection.

Jimin lent him five movies to watch from Monday to Friday. They all had a theme: Italian horror, neosurrealism, buddy films, western, romance…

She watched them all religiously. Sometimes she even took advantage and went to the cinema to watch it even when she had the same movie at her house. Just to see Jimin.

"Sorry, darling. I already finished doing that this morning."

"Oh, I understand." Cosette nodded stupidly quickly, taking a step back. "It's okay, Mr. Park."

"See you on Monday."

Colette did not respond, raising a hand as she turned her face away to get away as quickly as possible from the shame that consumed her. A small mocking laugh appeared on Jimin's lips and he took out his hidden arm from behind the door, revealing the disintegrating cigarette.

His heart dropped to his stomach when his eyes flicked to your porch and there you were, in the same position as him. Cigarette hanging from your lips, your damp hair combed back and eyeliner singed into your dark circles.

Not at all a mother from Montenegro, not a daughter, not even the whores that the divorced men brought in looked as broken and disoriented as you. Jimin’s heart pounded when your eyes never left his as you took a drag. Smoke billowing out of your nose. You didn't smile or extend your hand to say hello like a good neighbor, instead, you looked at Jimin suspiciously, closing the door seconds later.

Jimin raised his eyebrow. What had he done? Worried, he closed the door quickly, head resting on the wood. He cursed Cosette under his breath as he walked to the phone in the kitchen.

"Hoseok?"

"Don't tell me. Marcus' little girl."

"I get a headache every time I hear her babbling."

"Don't be so cruel, she admires you a lot."

Jimin closed his eyes, your gaze had hurt his fragile ego, and he had to know why you were so hostile between two and a half puffs of your cigarette.

That week was about to be lethargy, hell, Dante's tenth circle.

Day 1

Movie in theaters: Ghostbusters The curtains are still closed, I can see your silhouette at night, and the lights you use are dim. Halogen, you like calm environments, corners covered in soft shadows. You play music from the moment you get home from work, 5:15 without fail; you usually leave it on when you leave again. Every day, you come back with a paper bag, I assume with groceries. 5.45. You are wearing a leotard in one of those colors that Cosette likes so much. Perky titties bouncing while you take down the porch stairs;; couldn't help but take some pictures. You exercise until 6:40, then, ironically, smoke a cigarette or two in the yard. Smiling at people while pearls of sweat dribble down to your cleavage. Zuri is the first one of the committee to see you and waves her hand with curiosity. You two talk for a little. I'm here wishing I could read lips, but even with a thorough education, yours will need a whole degree only for me to concentrate on not kissing them. I go to sleep at 11:30, one glass of whiskey and half a joint I stole from Marcus months ago. I dream of eating you out through a small cut in your leotard, sweat dripping down your body to mine. You whimper, but I can't hear you.

Day 2

Movie in theaters: Friday The 13th: Part IV At 6:25 in the morning, I wake up to the sound of your heels going down the stairs to get to your car. I can't get up fast enough to see what you're wearing for me today. You accelerate quickly, you don't care if you wake up the neighbors. You don't come back all day. After work, I watch one of my films on TV until I fall asleep, Birdie's laughter drowns out my curiosity as I doze. 5:15, you're not home from work. Maybe you went out of state, considering how you dress, you seem like a busy woman. I thought about the clicking heels and imagined your foot stepping on my erection. I go outside to calm my thoughts. One thing led to another, and without knowing it I find myself in your backyard. You're not stupid, all the doors and windows are closed; curtains included. But you don't know who I am still, what I need about you.

Day 3

Movie in theaters: The Evil That Men Do 4:55. I'm at the Millers' house, they've invited me to check out their new screen and sound system. Watching a movie with them, but due to August Miller's silent decision, we ended up at the outside bar, drunk on mojitos and pina coladas that Lou Miller learned to make with a cassette he bought at the supermarket. The cocktails are very sugary, but they help clear my head. I find myself sitting steps away from Mr. Miller. I tell him I'm writing notes for a new review in the newspaper, but all I can think about is your absence all day. There is no news from you, and I am afraid that you have decided to leave the house. I don't understand, the house is adorable. Too big for one person, but the Jiménez filled it with pets and children in less than two years. It has off-white floors and large windows to let in the light. A huge patio and pool so you can indulge in leisure activities such as gardening and nudism. 00:13, you appear with your car lights off and your arms down. You carry the same paper bag in your hands, and I accidentally smile when I have your presence. I knew having a garden in your yard would convince you to come back.

Day 4

Movie in theaters: Footloose Something that my drunken brain from yesterday had forgotten to write down, that was overlooked, or that the mojitos simply erased from my memory. I managed to open a window in your backyard. Around 6, Lou Miller, in her forties, was no longer the same when drinking and it seemed she had forgotten because getting out of the pool she vomited every cocktail and every appetizer she had made for her husband and for me. Mr. Miller, due to his age and lack of exercise, had to leave the task of helping his wife up to the room to me. There, lying on the bed like some kind of rag doll passed out and with her vomit leaving a trace in her mouth, I thought of you. Maybe because this wasn't the first time a drunk and unconscious woman was in front of me or because she simply couldn't think of anything else. I went downstairs and said goodbye as decently as I could in my tipsy state. How strange it was to be drunk in the middle of a sunset. The days seem long and with you absent, God knows I need to at least get something that reminds me of you. You made things so difficult for me but I appreciated the detail, seriously. It's been a while since I enjoyed taking out my tools to open doors. People in Montenegro take security so lightly that I don't know how there hasn't been a massive burglary in every house. My arms wobbled and my cheeks burned. Half an hour later, I could hear the click that took me to your kitchen. I didn't do anything else, things had to go little by little between us, and I was willing to take it slowly for you. You're worth it.

Day 5

The night passed me like a breeze, it hit me like a stone on my temples. The nauseating taste of alcohol and sugar on my palate. Surely my face was swollen and that wouldn't help my next plan. The mirror showed me dark circles and short red marks on my ribs and chest. Going over your fences left me like shit. I put on some sunglasses and walked to my garden, I had been negligent with my roses and grass since your arrival. I had to make a good impression, and that was the first thing you saw of me. And this is where my conversion to religion begins. The first thing I hear is those low heels, the red ones you wore the first day, then Poison by Dior collided on my sensitive, hungover nose. That aroma was so familiar, maybe Zuri or maybe on Marcus's ex's boudoir. The conversation was like out of nowhere passing through the thin fresh humidity of a cloud, I remember nothing but the white and the voice of a seraphic being speaking to me.

"Don't you think it's pretty cloudy?" It was the first thing you let out of your angelic lips. Jimin closed his eyes and let a small shy smile appear as he turned around.

You had your hair back, revealing your entire face while you squeezed your eyes shut looking at the sky. A steaming mug in hand, a floral dress that almost reached your knees.

"Good mor-"

"For sunglasses, I mean." You interrupted, bringing the cup to your mouth. Chocolate, he smelled. You weren't one to drink coffee in the morning, noted.

"I try not to let my neighbors understand how hungover I am this morning."

You weren't one of the shy ones, he knew it from the moment you looked at him talking to Cosette and he loved that. You weren't wearing a ring either, noted.

You laughed at your neighbor's confession, Park's chest widened as he inhaled the sweet melody of your laughter. What if he confessed more things to you and you ended up fucking your hungover neighbor in the garage?

"Park," he raised his hand, and you raised yours squeezing lazily while still looking at him. "Jimin Park, I'm the president of the neighborhood committee, I also write reviews for The Hours."

"Good representation of what awaits me on Saturday."

Jimin raised his eyebrow at him. He was supposed to be the one inviting you, he would come to your door with good wine and his expensive perfume on to ask you to crash a party a couple of doors down, something "impromptu."

"Ah yes, that." Park licked his lips turning off the sprinkler.

“Aren’t you going?” Was that disappointment in your voice? Oh, honey...

"It wouldn't be a party without me"

"I see that." You pointed to his glasses again. The third joke about his hangover, you were nervous.

You just looked for an excuse to see him closer, and he had to respect your courage, it would have taken him a few more weeks, and after that, he ended things quickly after convincing his... how to put it? Muse? To leave it as it is.

"Well, I have to go, Park, but it was a pleasure. See you Saturday night."

"At the Jung's house, at 8."

You smirked, your eyes taking one more scan of the boy's body before turning around and walking to your car. Your hips moved soft and firm with each step, you worked for it and he appreciated it.

Continuation of Jimin's diary. Day 5: Page crumpled and torn from the small notebook. Attached with adhesive tape.

Yes, yes, yes. I know I should have waited at least half an hour for you to leave the area to go to the back door, but seeing you up close, smelling you, and hearing your voice. They were simply the last stop on my patience. I was walking through the small forest behind your house, the path was muddy under my boots and the sky threatened to break into thick drops. I prayed that it was true so that it would cover up the evidence of yesterday and today. I opened the door again with ease and entered your kitchen, closing the door softly. You still had things in boxes and my hands were tingling to open them, but I'm smarter than that. I didn't waste time and went up to your room. I came for something, then when you invite me to dinner or watch a movie I can have the pleasure of admiring your home. I looked in the drawers, under the bed, and in the closet. Here is the list of things I took that I know you would only assume were lost in the move: a red lipstick from the Besame brand, some used black panties with a small bow in the center, a white photo of you and black, a key that I found under a chest full of rings. I have no reason to take a key without knowing what it is for, but the ribbon covered in river pearls from which it hung was so delicate that I smiled thinking of you decorating something so simple. Now, I write these pages because I have arrived safely at my desk, with all things in hand. But I must say that you gave me a tremendous scare when you arrived at the house without the vehicle. I heard banging downstairs, and the hissing of keys. Luckily I was able to escape out the window that looked right into the pine trees behind the neighborhood. I spent another hour walking around the steep path, admiring how the thick, century-old trunks swallowed me up. As I predicted, the sky turned black. The last rains of September cleaned everything I left behind. I put my hands inside my pocket and took out the panties that I had wrapped delicately. I opened them like a letter as the rain soaked my body and the fabric in my hands further. I brought its center to my face and inhaled deeply, letting my back fall onto a log. Pungent and strong was your taste, I gripped the material in my teeth as I desperately undid my pants. It's the first time I've tasted you and I couldn't contain myself for long, the rain drowning out my moans as whitish streams fell on the wet earth.

There is no collection from day 6, a simple crumpled sheet, previously wet with an unidentified liquid (among the possibilities tears, stolen perfume, human remains), marked with a lipstick that Jimin wrote with hearts in the 'i's.

If there was something that surprised Jimin every time, it was the way Nancy could prepare a party in such a short time. Her backyard became a show under incandescent light bulbs and freshly cut grass.

Jimin stepped on the silage with guilt because of how perfect it was. He looked at his white suede shoes, removing a leaf that settled on them. He wanted to be impeccable. He had cut his hair past his ears and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt tight on his arms and chest with the words: 'LOVE 1984' by Yves Saint Laurent. His biceps were something to talk about and Nancy didn't let it go unnoticed.

"Is there anyone special coming today, Park?" Her honeyed and soft voice approached Jimin, offering him the first cocktail of the night. Unlike Mrs. Miller's, Nancy's coconut mojitos were the best.

"I don't know, that's the wonderful thing about your parties. The last one the Bee Gees didn't come through that door because Jung wouldn't let you pay for it." They both laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say the Bee Gees." She thought about it, maybe he would bring them next summer. "Cher, I love Cher. I know a friend from college who has her number."

"For God's sake, Nan."

Jimin smiled again, looking at Nancy's profile: her face was as delicate as her voice. Her hooked nose curved gently and her lips pursed, seeing what else he could arrange before the others arrived. Her hand unconsciously caresses her visibly bulging stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Nancy's eyes sparkled at the mention of her fetus. She denied it.

"Zuri is planning to hold a small celebration for me to tell me my gender in a few days."

"Ah, another party. This is where Sonny and Cher show up to say she's a girl."

Hoseok came out wearing an apron that blatantly said 'Kiss the Cook' and a pile of bloody, seasoned meats on a plate. The grill in front of him waved a nice heat as the first piece sizzled.

"You know I can't live without a good celebration." Nancy stepped back, gravitating away from the heat of the fire. "I'm going to see if I can help Lucy with the canapes."

Nancy turned around smiling an apology at Jimin who reciprocated. Without wasting time, he pulled a Marlboro out of his jeans and approached Hoseok, enjoying the warmth that covered his torso. Hoseok held a piece of bright red charcoal and brought it close to his partner's cigarette until he lit it.

"She did it again, the patio is beautiful."

"You know my Nana just needed a good excuse." Hoseok smiled, holding up the cigarette to take a drag. "Ever since I mentioned there was a new single woman in the neighborhood, they went crazy."

"Have you seen her yet?" He was somewhat suspicious that Hoseok had beaten him to invite her to his barbecue. Make no mistake, the party was the Jungs', but the purpose of the party was so that Jimin could meet you. The plan didn't work unless Jimin said it was going to happen, Hoseok was part of them but only as a proxy.

Luckily for Jimin, Hoseok shook his head in disappointment, looking at the grill.

"I heard she looked like a slut waiting to get paid for a blowjob on the sidewalk in a yellow leotard."

"Pink." Jimin interrupted, irritated by the words, sipping the mojito until he finished it. "Who told you that? Zuri?"

The day Jimin saw them talking, Zuri was wearing a friendly smile and you two had a small conversation.

"No, of course not. Zuri just said that she came home from the gym and the others-"

"Maeve," Jimin mumbled, setting the glass aside.

Hoseok smiled. "You know this happens to everyone who arrives, it happened to me and Nancy, to Marcus, to the Espositos for being Catholic in a place like Montenegro."

Christopher Esposito was a father at St. Eliam's Chapel, a small white building where few in the neighborhood went. It was California and people only believed in themselves. But, of course, Nancy had to invite them. Well, religion is not religion at the end of the day, but status.

Coming back to you.

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But not beautiful in the aesthetic sense, there is something about her eyes."

Like you know something Jimin doesn't.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him flipping the cuts.

"Fuck, she has you in the palm of her hand."

Jimin denied listening to the commotion coming in and talking inside the house. "Tonight I will be the one who will have it in mine."

There you were, in a black high-necked dress and black boots. You smiled at everyone and shook your hand.

For a second, when Jimin brought his cigarette to his lips, you looked at him. He to you. Both smiled before each one went back to his work.

Let the show begin.

Glasses slowly piled up on the wooden table that Nancy had impeccably decorated about four hours ago, plates with bones and half-eaten vegetables.

The music was loud but the voices shouting stories from the past about alcoholism and deranged adolescence were even louder.

Jimin was sitting next to the unlit grill, the subtle smell of burning charcoal and meat had him nauseous. He brought his knuckles to his lower lip as he watched you talking to Hoseok and Nancy, an impeccable smile on your lips, you looked like a little angel; anyone would steal you from that place.

Several of the husbands had taken a glance or two at your legs and swallowed your flirtatious, drunken laughter. You only drank wine and the tinted mark of alcohol covered your lips. So kissable and unattainable.

Hoseok had already taken a look at your hands, they were one of his favorite features. Luckily for him, your hands were decorated with rings and varnish the color of the wine you drank.

Nancy laughed at a joke you said, you blinked slowly looking at the woman in front of you with the concentration that only being drunk gives you. Hoseok looked back and nodded at Jimin. It was time.

"Could you get our guest another glass of wine, love?" Hoseok took your glass and Nancy nodded still laughing at the story you told her about your childhood.

Hoseok placed a hand on your back guiding you through the people. You let him, who knew that a couple of drinks could give you so much fluidity?

Still, you felt this tickling in your neck since you arrived.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok was one of those men that you watched your friend marry and sometimes you wished you had that kind of stability. Nice, he made you laugh, he protected you.

You nodded to the question.

"I'll introduce you to a few committee members, they're excited to meet you."

They both made way for a blonde woman with eyes so blue that you couldn't stop looking at them throughout the conversation, the green shadow on her eyelids was so singed that it looked like a healing bruise.

"This is Maeve."

"Oh, dear, welcome." Her body felt tense in the hug she offered you.

When she let you go, she once again engineered that smile that seemed to hurt her to extend. You looked where her gaze was guided: two children dressed alike were running around near the pool.

"Come back here." She murmured, pointing to the area where the other children were.

"Maeve is in charge of children's events and birthdays. She is an artist."

"Oh, Hoseok, please." Maeve rolled her eyes at her enjoying the compliment. "Why didn't you bring your children, dear?"

"I don't have any, work won't let me." You smiled. Maeve raised her eyebrows.

"And your husband, he also works a lot? He should have at least stopped by to say hello-"

"There is no husband either."

Hoseok licked his lips enjoying the shock on Maeve's face.

"Oh okay." She laughed softly, fixing his pearl necklace. "I mean, things aren't like they used to be." Maeve sought support from Hoseok. You also looked at the man next to you who almost choked in his drink.

"America," Hoseok explained, taking a swig of brandy that made his nose wrinkle.

"God, yes. It's like it doesn't belong to the man anymore." You laughed hard, you didn't know where so much energy came from but you were static, you could feel every look and every touch.

Every look.

"California has become Sodom in just ten years."

"Oh, there's Zuri and Charlie!"

Hoseok grabbed your arm and dragged you away from Maeve's quips. Two women were sitting near the pool, the black woman fixed her glasses and continued the conversation. Her hands were intertwined with the brunette's in front of her. You didn't want to interrupt but Hoseok didn't give you time.

"This is Zuri and Charlie Munson."

The hairs on the back of your neck perked up as you heard another voice behind you. You couldn't tilt your head because the two women stopped to shake your hand. He was just who you wanted to see.

"You came," you mumbled to Jimin as you squeezed the taller girl's hand. She was beautiful.

"Charlie, this is our new neighbor." Jimin placed both hands on your shoulders, massaging discreetly. You were breathing hard as you tried to hide a smile. The pads of his fingers hit the tense spots.

Charlie was tall, the square glasses covering half of her face. Seeing Jimin, her calm expression soured. You gave her your hand and smiled at Zuri who stood behind her like a little girl.

"Charlie's a lawyer, in case you one day end up getting a DUI like me." Jimin laughed, you didn't know if it was a joke. If you saw Zuri's reaction, yes. If you saw Charlie's, well he had simply said that he ran over a child or something.

"Zuri is-"

"I already met Zuri on one of my outings to my patio."

"Oh perfect." You smelled divine and the brandy was starting to feel like the plan could go well without the help...no, in fact, without Jung's presence.

"I work for Martines & Sons," Charlie spoke again.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise still with Charlie's hand in yours.

"Martines & Sons, you're not just any lawyer then. I know one of the sons, David has told me a lot about you." You responded. Charlie smiled proudly, fixing her glasses. Was that blush Jimin saw on Charlotte Munson's cheekbones? Oh, you were a top whore, you flirted with Charlie in front of her own wife and poor Zuri didn't notice.

You and Charlie lasted a short silence smiling at each other.

"Zuri is a piano teacher." his wife stammered, letting the woman with the long, poorly dyed hair shake your hand. She wore necklaces of different colors and a ring that almost covered her index finger with a purple stone. "She graduated from Stanford."

Barely, Jimin told himself.

Before they can continue the conversation, Maeve calls out to the two women. Perfect.

The music was loud enough for Jimin to have the excuse of brushing your ear with his swollen lips from biting them so much.

"That's Marcus," he murmured, letting the warmth of his breath caress your lobe. You closed your hands into a fist, wetness pooling instantly inside your silk underwear.

Marcus was like a Jesus if he had become a writer. His hairy knuckles held a cigarette about to burn his skin, he didn't talk to anyone but instead admired the water of the pool in silence.

“That's his daughter, Cosette,” Jimin's palm guided your hip to the kitchen window. You were so drunk that Jimin didn't have to do much to make your physiognomy move, like wet clay between his calloused fingers.

"Victor Hugo fan?"

"Don't even try to do it, he'll spend hours talking to you about Les Misérables." They both laughed in a drunken stupor. Like two boys gossiping.

Cosette was wearing a plaid skirt and blue eyeshadow. To attract attention this time she had put on red lipstick.

Seeing Jimin, she raised her hand and smiled, revealing her silver braces.

No, she was too shy to greet Jimin like that.

You greeted her with both hands so he could see you better in the darkness on that side.

"Ah, you know her."

"Yes, I almost crashed into the poor thing at midnight when she was running away from her house." Monday the 17th, you arrived at 12:13 that night. Anyway, it wasn't logical for you to be out at midnight.

"I didn't consider her one of those who ran away at night."

"Sometimes it can get lonely, doesn't it?" You both looked at each other at the same time, your cold knuckles pinching your lips.

Hoseok was nowhere to be found and Jimin's cock was already starting to hurt under those tight jeans.

Fuck it.

"You don't need to go to be with little Cosette to feel accompanied." Jimin rolled his eyes, the iridescence of the water reflecting on his face and you felt the wine line your blood. The tickling behind your neck subsided and you could only think about those high, rosy cheekbones that you wanted to nibble on ever since you saw them.

"I don't feel alone now."

"And in your house?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Surprisingly, at home, I feel like I have someone else. In the hallways behind me, behind the curtain when I shower, in the corner of my bed when I go to sleep."

A cheeky smile spread across your face, Jimin swallowed, pulling out a cigarette.

"Ghosts," he rolled his eyes playfully. "The worst plague."

You stole the cigarette from Jimin's hands and lit it with the lighter you had inside your left boot.

"What do you say, Park? Do you have ghosts in your hallways while you go to pour your coffee?"

If you only knew, love.

"Unlike you, no one loves me enough to haunt me even in my dreams."

Your eyes fell after two drags, on the third you stopped at your chest and held the cheeks of the boy next to you, your crimson nails squeezing gently letting Jimin's lips bulge allowing you to pass the cold smoke to his lips.

"Hmm," Jimin groaned, letting the air come out of his nose in frustration. He closed his eyes and opened them gently until he looked at your pupils dilated and determined for the next step.

This is the first time Jimin has asked the question instead of Hoseok, who from his mouth didn't sound so creepy. But the unfortunate man was busy playing a game of poker with the other parents. Now that little Jung came to the family, Jimin, and his hobbies were something that Hoseok apparently wanted to put behind him, he wanted to become a suburban father.

"Have you ever been recorded...um-" Jimin swallowed hard, moving closer to hide in the shadows of the night. "Doing it?"

You tilted your head back to look at Jimin again, he wasn't playing around. You lifted the corners of your lips, a husky laugh on your part.

“You fucking freak” You scoffed.

"I can show you my films if you want to."

"Yeah, sure-" you huffed, taking a step back.

"Pick one." Jimin took your arm, the look in his eyes was daring. "Pick someone here. Anyone."

Your gaze rolled around the party until it stopped at the sweet Maeve who was singing karaoke next to her husband, a martini in her hands. Surprisingly, Maeve was a crowd favorite.

Jimin smiled evilly. "Do you want to know if Mrs. Johnson enjoys being recorded?"

No, you wrinkled your nose.

Your eyes softened at the thought of Jimin arranging the camera to focus on Maeve's cobalt eyes, curiosity flowing faster than alcohol.

"I thought so." Jimin offered you his hand and surprisingly, yours landed on his before he could say no. "Be like the one she's had too much to drink, we need an excuse to get out of here."

In the end, Jimin was right. The only thing he needed to get you into his bed was a little alcohol and a little bit of you.

Jimin's house had so few lights that when you entered it took you a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The lamps illuminated the corners, the pieces of newspapers with his reviews on the living room wall, his photo on several of them.

Leaving the party wasn't as difficult as they both thought because everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice his absence, even Hoseok who was winning his useless poker game.

Now you were with your legs crossed on the leather furniture, your boot clattered on the floor waiting for Jimin who was in the hallway, he had put on reading glasses that made him look older than he was but you loved thinking about that little girl. fantasy that he was about to give you a class.

Jimin muttered the letter M over and over again until he found Maeve between Mad Max and The Magnificent Seven. Handwritten with a green marker it said: Maeve: June 3rd, After the Twins' Birthday.

"Here it is." A nostalgic smile appeared on Jimin's face. You followed his steps with your eyes until you reached the small VCR in front of the television.

"It bothers you?" You took a joint out of your purse, but Jimin denied it, crawling to the furniture and positioning himself between your legs, his glasses reflecting a certain emotion that you couldn't decipher. But he looked comfortable, happy to be able to present one of his works, his hand caressing your thigh while he lit the joint.

"On the contrary, I believe that substance use enriches the experience." Now it was Jimin's turn to take your breath into his, but his hand was rough and he clenched your jaw to get you off. You didn't complain, that's how you liked it. "Speaking of substances, brandy?"

“Please,” you coughed, your eyes stinging. You looked around the room as he stood.

Jimin went to the open kitchen that joined the living room, his gaze and body were already adapted to the blackness of the apartment. There was only the light from the television and a small lamp at the end of the hallway that led to his study.

"Are you going to explain to me how you got frigid Maeve Johnson to let you do this or..."

"Of course, I just let Hoseok do the hard work of casting and convincing."

"Hoseok? Your neighbor Hoseok?"

"Yeah, he's like my producer if you want to call it that." The coppery liquid settled in the glasses, leaving a pleasant woody smell in the air.

"And what do you gain from that?"

Jimin turned around and looked at you impatiently.

"Have a drink before you start, it will surely be strong for you."

"You don't know me, Park." You responded, sitting closer to him to take the glass he offered you, a small drink.

It was enough.

Your swollen and tinted lips closed with his in a tender and passive kiss, Jimin breathed deeply without closing his eyes. He placed both glasses on the table without taking off his eyes of the screen and put his hands on your waist. The tips of his fingers touched your curves above the silk of his dress, turning from a caress to a rapture.

"Mphmf" You took off laughing a little, the weed had you smiling and Jimin loved that. He loved it when his girls started laughing sheepishly at their own fantasies.

"Shall we begin?" Jimin held the controller in his hands and pressed the button.

Hoseok is the first image you make out on the screen, his lips pursed as he fixes the camera.

"You're sure?" Could be heard behind the sudden movements of the camera.

"Mhm, it's just something I like to keep in case I want to see your face moaning my name again."

Hoseok takes off just as Maeve blushes and rolls her eyes at him. His movements were light, and his shoulders didn't seem as tense as those of the woman at the party.

"Is she on drugs?" Asked.

"No, she only drank two glasses of wine before starting. The three of us were a little tipsy."

A pale figure approaches Maeve and removes the low tail she has, surprisingly, this makes the woman relax even more. Seeing the hands massaging her shoulders you realize it's Jimin.

"Is she ready yet?" she murmured.

"The only thing missing is the boom," Hoseok responded by teasing Maeve about her beauty.

"Quickly, I can't wait any longer." Jimin laughed flirtatiously, approaching Maeve's neck to leave a couple of chaste kisses. Johnson closed her eyes.

"Almost there," Hoseok complained before the sound changed from a crisp sound to a sleeker one. Now you could hear Jimin's lips smack.

"Action," Maeve laughed and the two boys laughed at her. Hoseok was no longer in front of the screen. But you could hear the dragging of a chair and a belt being removed. Voyeurism, interesting.

What happens next is just what you thought, but you still couldn't stop watching Maeve being completely devoured by a man who was, surely, her first experience fucking her and having her be the center of attention.

The camera focused on her and her alone. But you couldn't stop watching Jimin in the corners, he was a damn artist with his body. He was not the protagonist but without him, there was no dance.

Hoseok was breathing hard behind the camera throughout the entire movie.

When Maeve was sweating and panting on the furniture right where you were sitting, the screen went black.

You looked at Jimin, his mouth resting on his knuckles. The light from the static emitted a pale light on his body, you could see how seriously he had taken the film, he had only moved to take a couple of sips of brandy without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What do you think about it?"

There were no words that could describe the feeling Jimin had when he heard the three words that left your lips.

"I want one." You had a feline smile. Jimin knew you were sick, but you looked like you had fallen from the sky that summer afternoon.

Park's head shook, nodding quickly.

As he stood up from the furniture, he felt as if his body was going to lean forward, perhaps he had drunk too much brandy.

"Woah, are you okay?" You held his arm, but he nodded instantly.

"Yes, sorry is the excitement." He laughed walking down the hallway, each step echoing off the walls of his brain. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop now. He had to look for his camera.

He searched for the keys in his pocket until he found the key to the study, turned on the lights, and looked for a tool in the corner of the room. Upon entering the studio, it surprised you how many plants, lamps, and furniture of different sizes and shapes there were.

Maeve had surely been something improvised, but now Jimin and Hoseok had vast resources to create something first-class.

"You can take a seat wherever you like, I'll take care of the rest." The man stammered, putting the batteries in the camera.

"What camera is it?"

"It's a Sony BetaMovie, I love how the colors look in the image." He swallowed hard because when he got up, the room seemed to spin. "Shit."

"Come, I'll help you. Take a seat." Your voice guided Jimin to a white piece of furniture near a window. Your hands brushed the hair from his forehead and he smiled. You really were everything he needed.

"I'll put the cassette on while you rest. You hit the joint too fast." You laughed before placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Jimin's cock throbbed as he felt the softness and heat emanating from your body.

“Quick,” he whispered, watching you put the device on the tripod.

His eyebrows rose at how quickly you set up the camera and sound. Even better than Hoseok, he dared to say.

Where was Hoseok?

Jimin's heart started to beat fast as you let your ass fall into his lap, a hiss coming from him as he put both of his hands behind his head. Your hips began to move back and forth, and the fabric of his jeans rubbed roughly against his cock.

"Fuck." He mumbled, looking up, lips parted into an oval. The room stopped moving when you started playing with his hair. "You're s-so fucking cute. I like you so much, I-I don't want to share you w-with that bastard Hoseok."

You laughed at his babbling. He was so excited that if you touched his cock he was sure to cum in seconds. You flattened your tongue against his jugular and felt the growl he made.

"You're so fucking cruel. C'mon, take my fucking cock out."

"Do it yourself, you lazy fuck." You whispered, leaving a hickey on his collarbone.

Jimin obeyed as fast as his clumsy hands could, he didn't know what was happening to him but he didn't care. Maybe what he smoked wasn't weed but if you were in the same state, things were fine.

Everything was perfect.

"Take that fucking dress off. God, I wish you had that pink leotard on."

With both hands on the edges of the dress, you lifted it until your naked body was visible.

"You're breathtaking, baby."

"I know." You kissed him with so much hunger that the taste of blood began appearing between your tongues, but none of you knew whose. You raised your legs to remove the wet panty, you held Jimin's cock in your entrance, and your fingers felt the veins that were pulsing frantically. "Don't you dare cum without me"

"Just ride me, baby, please. I feel like I will die if you don't." He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying. "Nice and slow, let the camera see how good you can take it." Jimin gasped with every inch you let into your tight pussy. Both hands went to his mouth muffling his moans when you sat straight up on his cock, leaving nothing out.

You bit your lower lip in a smile, you pulled him closer to your body and he buried his face in your neck. Right where you wanted it.

"I know you have my key." You whispered.

Jimin pressed his fingers on your hip to make you stop. Fuck.

"What are you-?" The air was forced from Jimin's lungs as his rib bent in pain. The warmth of his blood damaged the new T-shirt.

You had stabbed him, he didn't know what it was but he could feel the thin edge moving menacingly inside him. A guttural sound came from him as you rotated the handle of the knife.

"You were the one who entered my house."

Jimin laughed, the lightness that losing blood caused him ecstasy.

"I didn't tell you to stop moving, you slut," he growled in your ear, your pussy clenched around him, he noticed and smiled even more. You were so done with him. You grabbed a fistful of hair from his head to get a better look at him.

He was a fucking liar, you told yourself as you held his head, his eyelids fluttering with the errant movement of your hips. If you had drunk the brandy that he offered you, you would be in that state, the same one that Maeve was in, the same one that everyone on every cassette in the hallway was surely in.

"Where is the key?"

Jimin couldn't stop smiling, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to leave wet kisses on your lips. His tongue playing with yours. A fight of teeth and saliva.

"What do you need it for"

"It's not your damn problem."

"Then I don't have the key."

You were sick of his games, you bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. That along with a sit on his cock made him so sensitive.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He hissed on your chest, he did not know if it was for pleasure or because you were taking out the blade from his body. Thick, white cum pouring down your legs.

"Okay, then. I'll just do it myself."

The last thing Jimin remembers is your head smashing his to unconsciousness. Bliss, pure heaven after the torture of having to love and deal with you.

He was fucked.

And here was Jimin, his eyes were like two black bullets pointing in your direction.

And there you were, helping Nancy arrange the gifts on the Baby Shower table. You dressed so casually and sweetly. You smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jimin inhaled sharply and felt his rib sting under the gauze protecting the wound. By luck, or rather experience, you didn't hit a vital organ. Which to him is surprising.

"This is what you get for not telling me to go with you," Hoseok served Jimin the punch filled with cubes of fruit, it was too sweet but since it was Maeve's party it had to be kid-friendly.

Hoseok didn't know about your act, he only knows that there is a tape of what happened, and what hurts Jimin the most is that he doesn't even have it. You took him away, you left his house in a mess looking for the key, and all the tapes scattered on the floor. It took full days to fix them.

"Now you're dedicated to being a full-time dad."

"Sorry, I have to do my job."

Jimin looked up at his partner, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, to him and to everyone else. But Park Jimin was always a sweet, calm, and helpful neighbor. Today he gave the excuse of having a migraine so he could sit and be quiet, so he could see you through his sunglasses.

"Did you at least fuck her?"

Jimin looked at his empty glass, a small smile threatening to tug at his corners.

"It's the best work I've done so far." He responded after a long silence.

"Fuck, man," Hoseok complained, thinking of all the possibilities.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going outside for a cigarette."

"Don't stay too long, we almost announce the gender."

What a weird fucking sentence, Jimin thought taking, his pack out of his pockets.

"Care to share one?" You said and Jimin's body hair rose like static.

You wore sunglasses just like him, and you carried two glasses of rum and soda.

"You can take that fucking drink and choke with it."

“Mm,” you smiled. "Someone is not in a good mood."

"Do you know I can sue you for what you did?"

You laughed heartily covering your lips, Park's stomach altered. Of course, he couldn't, you already knew about his deepest secret, and you had the evidence. God knows Jimin was in your hands and you didn't need much to close it and crush him.

"Where's the tape?"

"Where's my key?"

"I don't have your fucking key."

"Then you can forget about your tape, sweetheart." You mumbled under your breath before stealing the cigarette from him. Jimin's hand turned into a fist.

You walked languidly down the sidewalk, Jimin following slowly behind you. You knew.

When they arrived at the house they both stayed at the entrance door. Your hands are arranged behind your back.

"Open the door."

"I thought you were going to come in through the window like you did before."

"ENOUGH!" Park shouted, scaring you, luckily there was no one around. "This is not a game."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You came to ruin my life."

"And you don't help solve it."

"The only way this problem will be solved is if you get out of Montenegro."

"Or if one of us ends up dead."

Jimin frowned, and you smiled. You were playing again. What a fucking tease.

Before the staring game continued, a noise inside the house caught both of your attention. To Jimin's surprise, it seemed like you didn't know what the noise was either.

No, quite the opposite.

"What's that?"

“Fuck,” you muttered before pulling out your keys and opening the door as quickly as possible. "Do not enter." You were frantic, scared. Jimin did the complete opposite.

"I told you not to come in,"

"Please help."

"Jimin Park, if you want to stay alive I swear-"

The man pushed you aside to follow the trail of blood that ran from the basement door to the living room and kitchen. When he got to the door, there was a woman tied up trying to open the door with a knife. Her hands were tied with gray tape, she was wearing dirty work clothes and she smelled horrible.

When the girl saw Jimin she became alert and she went to him on her knees, hands above her so that he could help.

"JI-" you swallowed hard, entering the kitchen. "No."

"Shh. I'll take care of it."

In the blink of an eye, Jimin's gaze changed to that of a monster. The woman noticed, got up on her weak legs, and ran through the kitchen to the stairs where she stumbled so hard that her knees couldn't take it anymore.

"No Please!" the woman screamed into Jimin's hand muffling her cries, Jimin's free arm chaining itself to her weak neck squeezing tightly. She moved like a fish out of water for a few seconds until only small spasms remained.

"Shh, I have a migraine. God."

You watched from the start of the stairs, your body trembling and your heart beating in your esophagus about to vomit it up. When he turned to see you there was a smile on his face, red with effort.

This was the card Jimin needed to match.

"The time I came into your house, you weren't the one making all that noise." He gasped, releasing the lifeless body from his arm.

"I do not know what are you talking about." You stuttered, taking a couple of steps back.

Knock, knock.

If you could, your racing heart would have already been on the ground.

"Hello, are you there? Nancy wants you to be there for the reveal."

Zuri's voice chilled your blood. You looked at Jimin and then at the body on the stairs.

Jimin trapped you between the door and his body, you looked up into his eyes.

"Let me guess, my little girl doesn't know how to hide a body."

It hurt you to say it but: "Help me, please." You whispered into Jimin’s lips and didn’t have to say more.

"Be like the one who was leaving the kitchen in ten seconds, wait for the second ring."

You nodded, watching Jimin lift your victim's body until he disappeared through the basement door. You fixed your hair and your dress, and you walked around the bloody kitchen.

"Are you there?" Said Zuri again.

"Yes, one second." You walked quickly trying not to slip on the red liquid on your heels. You opened and closed the door as quickly and subtly as possible. "Sorry, work."

"Oh, no. I understand, sorry." Zuri said with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Ten, of course. I'll inform the boss." She winked before walking down the sidewalk to the other row of houses.

You sighed before walking back into the mess, Jimin was standing with his shoulder covered in someone else's blood, hair fluttering, and cheeks flushed from the effort.

Your angel.

"There's blood on you... everywhere," your voice trembled.

"What an insightful observation, darling." He laughed, cleaning his hands with his jeans.

When you both saw each other, there was something undeniable between, and as if pulled by threads, both were attracted to each other until they collided in a kiss with arms intertwined in your bodies. Jimin knew in your arms that heaven was in the middle of chaos.

Jimin's hands traced the lines of your body until he reached the back of your thighs and lifted you so that you were chained to his waist. His rib burned with pain and he was sure the wound was opening again, but it did not matter now.

You two were even.

You gasped as you felt his hands squeeze your ass with anger.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm done with your bullshit."

Your eyelids drooped as you felt his soft lips leave kiss after kiss until your lips did not come away, the undeniable taste of weed and rum. Sweet and dangerous. His tongue entered your mouth, playing with yours, circling until he sucked it, a docile bite that made you moan.

Why did he still want you even after you stabbed him and made him ejaculate, intoxicated?

"Look at you doubting yourself." You said right in time when the silence became evident.

Jimin's blood boiled at your mockery and he led you to the furniture in your small living room. The sofa was still wrapped in plastic and the crisp sound of your body falling into the cushions excited you. A hand on your neck squeezing enough for you to open your mouth for air, the blood of your victim staining your pretty dress and skin.

Out of nowhere, Jimin took out a knife from his pocket and your hair stood on end, your pussy getting wet when he slowly ran it over your chest until he broke your bust and left your nipples exposed.

"Where's the tape?" He asked bringing the sharp tip to one of your nipples, the cold of the metal making your toes curl.

"There's no tape." You smiled biting your lip. Jimin let go of your neck to slap you so hard that he took away your smile.

"Say that again." He was fuming, his wide nose searching for air to calm himself, teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"There. Is. No. Tape. Park. I just prepped the camera and left it off."

He didn't understand why you felt so proud when it was clear that he could push the blade through your chest, but your nipples were getting hard and saliva was pooling in his mouth.

"Why is there no tape, you fucking cunt?" His fingers squeezed your chin so you would stop watching him play with your tits.

"Because I want to be the one who has it."

Jimin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Open that box." You pointed at the table next to the couch. It was the only box that looked used and worn. With the same knife, Jimin opened the box and felt a rush throughout his body, almost like vomiting.

A Sony BetaMovie, new in the box. His dazed and disoriented gaze went to yours.

"It arrived this morning."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I want my own film. No Hoseok, no drugs, just you. I saw you in the other ones while you were drugged and God," Your pupils shone with such grace and prayer that Jimin didn't understand.

"N-no, this is not how it works." The only thing he could do was laugh.

"But it can."

You began to kiss his fingers, one by one, giving him the necessary attention. "You just need to let me put the VHS inside and we can start."

Jimin denied it as he let his guard down. You got up and improvised a tripod out of boxes until the camera was right in the center where you could see the couch and Jimin sitting, without understanding what the hell was happening.

Having the VHS and pressing 'Rec', you turned back to Jimin. You kissed his cheeks and his neck, he moaned a few times, closing his eyes.

"In this one, you're my main star." You whispered in his ear and his cock hardened until it hurt. "Use me, please."

A growl from him.

He snatched your body from his side until he had you in his lap, your chest pressed against his knees. With the edge of the knife, he spread your legs and spat on his fingers.

"I wish I could kill you right now." He murmured entering two slender fingers inside your sopping cunt.

"I wish you would just shut up and fuck me like you hate me." You whimpered as his fingers collided with your entrance with pure blows. Your juices were making noise throughout the room, you grabbed a cushion, pressing your face into it.

Jimin didn't like that. "No, no, lift your face. Let me hear you cry." His fingers fisted into your hair as he thrust two more fingers in, the knife threatening to cut the inside of your thigh at any moment.

Your body trembled as his index and ring fingers curled into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"That's it, cum you fucking slut. Flirting with all the husbands at the party, smiling at Charlie Munson in front of her stupid fucking wife, all that with your perky tits bouncing. Showing Zuri your pretty body in that leotard."

His pinky started to play with your throbbing nub until your pee came out, making a mess out of the plastic-covered furniture. Jimin laughed without stopping until he saw you trying to crawl away from him. He took his wet hand and smeared it in your mouth, you spit out the excess watching him with drooping eyelids.

"Look at the mess you made, how dare you ruin my jeans."

A rough hand collided with your right ass cheek.

"Say you're sorry." Another one, this time the left one.

"S-sorry, sir."

The name caught his fancy. You were really hanging on his hands, you were the dirtiest whore for him, and he could play with you no matter how. You were so fucking sick and he loved it.

"Sir?" He laughed, caressing the reddened skin. "That's so cute, keep doing it." He spanked you again and again.

"Please, sir, it hurts."

"Good, now come here and make me cum until it comes out of your nose," he smirked putting you between his legs.

Your trembling and useless hands took a moment to remove Jimin's pants, revealing his defined legs that made your mouth water.

You felt the tip of the knife on your chin and you raised your head. "Take off the underwear, too."

You hurried until you found Jimin's thick cock throbbing on top of his stomach. You licked your lips unconsciously and got to work right away.

Jimin's moans were drawn out like he was going to curse and drowned it out in a grunt at the end, you loved every second of it as your tongue circled until you reached the base. The air cutting from your throat.

"Kiss it until you can taste the saltiness down your throat, angel"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, letting Jimin fuck your face, covering your ears with his hands so that you could only hear the saliva lubricating the exit and entry of Jimin's cock into your abused throat.

You closed your eyes when you felt just what he promised you. His cum enters directly into your esophagus.

His hands lifted you up in a rush, your lungs flaring for oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Open your mouth." He have demanded and you obeyed. He spit into your mouth and then closed it with his fingers. "You belong to me, slut."

"Yes, sir." Your words seemed like blurs of what you wanted to say.

Your body was arranged on the furniture with your legs on your chest and Jimin squatting on top of you. He was going to hurt you but it was going to feel so good.

Your juices lubricated your entrance and your asshole, shining with the afternoon light that was scattered through the curtains. Jimin wanted to break you so bad that he grabbed the back of your ankles and spread you even wider until your pussy revealed your dark, hot insides.

Aiming the tip of his cock he rammed you hard until you screamed, biting Jimin's arm. The blood of others staining your bodies, Jimin's wound hurt so deliciously that the stain on his tissues became bigger and bigger.

You couldn't hold it in and you dug your finger into the gauze making Jimin's eyes widen, a roar came out of him and he held your neck squeezing so hard that your face started to turn red. However, you smiled, going dumb with his dick.

Jimin's eyes threatened to go black with pleasure and pain. Your pussy felt like wet silk. It was warm and cozy. He could die fucking that tight hole until the last spurt of semen was also his last breath.

Damn succubus, that's what you were. You smiled like a demon and fucked like an angel.

The angle ended up making you cum a second time, making your walls throb.

"Oh my God, keep doing that." Jimin grabbed your body in a ball until he covered you completely with his body and fucked you with short, desperate strokes, like an animal in heat.

As he came he felt like his soul was ripped out.

"Fucking love you, love your-...I hope you get pregnant with my warm cum deep inside your stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, honey. If this ain't the one, we can try again." You promised.

"This is the last time you'll see me," Jimin promised back.

And there it was, oh the gods must have blessed you with such a perfect smile because even though he knew he was screwed, he was still in love.

In a quick and agile movement, you were now the one holding the knife and pointing it directly at the bleeding wound.

"I have a game." You smiled slowly positioning yourself to ride him.

The cum bursting out, warm and viscous to his pelvis. Jimin kept looking at you with a tense stomach.

"Let's play Guess who accidentally gave Cosette one of his movies instead of giving her A Clockwork Orange."

No no no. No.

"No." Jimin tried to get up but you raised the knife to his throat with menacing eyes.

"Knowing Cosette, it will be the last one she watches because of the explicit themes. But you must be on time."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:55. Cosette always started the movies after coming home from chess club.

Five minutes or it was going to be a total disaster. Chaos. Jimin had shown Cosette porn, his porn.

"Here's the solution: I give you my car key and you either leave to stop her or let the whole neighborhood know that you traumatized Marcus's poor little daughter with your sick hobby."

Park's eyes stung as two tears fell to his temples.

"If you say the first, that means you will take the key on my conditions."

And this was where Jimin knew that he had made the wrong move.

He was trapped everywhere. Checkmate.

"Fuck you," his voice trembled.

You lowered the knife disappointed, and you sighed.

"Well, if you wish."

The handle of the knife collided with Jimin's forehead letting the pain dissipate with a deep sleep.

The first thing Jimin could smell was artificial pine, then the selage of your perfume. His eyes struggled to open as the blood from his forehead had dried onto his eyelids. It was dark, it was night around him and he could only see the road along until it plunged into darkness. He doesn't remember going out anywhere, much less somewhere so barren. His neck moved little by little until he reached a small market illuminated by white and purple lights.

Jim's Stop Sign, read an old, disused sign.

A bell rang as a woman was let out, it was you.

Shit.

Jimin tried to lift his sleepy body but he was tied to the seat. His body shook with every step you took towards the car. Now that Jimin realized, it was your car.

As you got closer he realized that you were wearing Jimin's t-shirt and the bright green leotard underneath, despite the night you were wearing sunglasses.

When you opened the door, his body was twisted with tension, waiting for you to do something.

"Oh, you woke up." You turned on the dome light, the pungent smell of blood and rotting flesh suddenly filling the car until it completely drowned out the smell of pine. Park tried to vomit but stopped himself. "I see your stomach is still sensitive, you should eat something." You pointed to the paper bag full of snacks and odds and ends like glasses and hair dye.

There was a tingle on Jimin's back but he was afraid to look at the back seat. You put the keys in and sped through the quiet night. The putrid smell subsided as you opened the window for Jimin.

"We had to leave without saying goodbye to Hoseok, I know you probably wanted to see him one last time but the body was starting to decompose and there was no remedy."

That was it, Jimin guided his eyes to the back where a long black sheath tied up who he assumed was the girl you kidnapped.

"She was the girl who had bought the house." You explained when you saw that Park didn't take his eyes off the cover that was shaking with the car. "I convinced her to have a cup of coffee when I met her at the gym and hit her in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn't know how to get rid of her, she just didn't want to die, and spent days feeding her and trying to find a solution." You bit your perfect nails with your other hand on the steering wheel.

Jimin was trying to breathe slowly.

"The solution was you all along." You smiled caressing his thigh. That made Jimin strangely relax.

"We need to find a place to bury them."

Them?

"When we get to the outskirts of Las Vegas we will be more suitable."

"Them?" Jimin’s raspy, tremulous voice touched you.

You looked at him worried, he doesn't remember.

"Cosette's body is in the back." You explained sweetly.

The vomit that his stomach held back came out when he heard those words, the viscous liquid falling on his sweater and his seat.

"Oh, Minnie, this is the second time you've done this on the trip."

"I want to go home." He cried while you stopped to clean his mess.

"We're getting there, don't worry."

"No, I want to go back to Montenegro."

"But you can't. You killed Cosette in her room, don't you remember?"

"You're a fucking liar, I'll never do that to her," he yelled so loud spit came out of his mouth. You just stayed there taking paper towels to clean his chest.

"She said very offensive stuff to you when we went to get the tape. She didn't like that a man was with her dad." You tensed your mouth in a strange smile.

"I didn't do it." He repeated it again and again.

But then again, He hated her guts. The only thing he needed was for her to snap at him once. But he couldn't, he wouldn't.

The night fell again into the silence of the car mechanics accelerating down the deserted highway toward Las Vegas. Jimin looked to the side of him: your hand was resting on the open window while your hair was fluttering in the wind, you looked tired but still murmured the lyrics the song in the radio.

Feeling Jimin's gaze, you looked out of the corner of your eye and smiled tenderly.

You got him out of a huge mess, he was grateful for that. Your hand went to the back and you removed the knot from Jimin's wrists. Looking back at Jimin you kissed the back of his hand and continued looking at the road.

The sweet act confused Jimin so much that he could only stand there looking at your profile, it reminded him of Nancy's. Appeased, away, and scheming things. His stomach was burning with love and he didn't understand it, but thinking about your furrowed eyebrows while you helped him lift Cosette's body made Jimin take you more than just appreciation.

"Did you bring a shovel?" He asked.

#bts #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin x you #bts imagines #taehyung #halloween #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #halloween smut #bts x reader #bts x you #hoseok imagine #hoseok smut

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callmedaleelah · 3 months ago

Text

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— don’t call me kid don’t call me baby ; like you were always the smaller fish being pushed into the larger, more hostile environments of life

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You step into the cream-colored dress, feeling the soft fabric glide over your skin. The buttons along the side fasten easily, pulling the wrap-style bodice into place, snug but comfortable. The material flows down to just below your knees, moving gently with each shift of your body. Its simplicity feels effortless, yet the way it drapes along your frame gives you an air of quiet elegance. The short sleeves and subtle v-neckline make it perfect for a casual day out, but still refined enough to catch an admiring glance. It’s light, comfortable, but it feels more like your mother’s taste than your own—a reminder of her influence over every detail. You sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to gather yourself. Your birthday, yet somehow it feels like it’s about maintaining appearances rather than celebrating you.

The car ride is uneventful, save for your father’s quiet compliments. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes flickering back at you through the rearview mirror. His tone is gentle, as if he’s trying to connect despite the ever-present distance. You smile faintly in return, appreciating the gesture, though the weight of the evening presses on you. Your mom sits in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, already anticipating the evening ahead with the precision of someone who controls every detail.

It was your birthday today, but instead of the home celebration you were hoping for, your parents decided to bring you to one of the best restaurants near your campus dorm for a birthday dinner. Your mom had insisted on visiting and having a “nice family dinner” rather than letting you come home for a small party. She made it clear that you couldn’t afford to miss classes tomorrow. Her practical reasoning always felt like the final say in every decision, even on a day meant to be special for you.

As you arrive at the restaurant, an upscale place with polished floors and a soft, ambient glow, the waiter approaches your family with a well-practiced greeting. Your parents exchange pleasantries as you're led to the table, but you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening. The crisp clink of silverware and the low murmur of conversation fill the air as the waiter pulls out your chair. You’re just about to sit when a familiar voice interrupts.

“Oh, we meet here—” Yamaguchi’s voice had that warm, casual tone that instantly contrasted with the stiff elegance of the restaurant. He was dressed neatly, but his easygoing nature made the entire situation feel more bearable. His smile faltered slightly when he saw your parents, and with a quick, polite shift, he straightened and bowed, his cheeks flushed pink with sudden shyness.

Standing just behind him, Tsukishima, tall and composed, mirrored Yamaguchi’s bow, but his gaze flicked toward you for a brief moment before he resumed his usual, calm demeanor. His formality felt almost too perfect, a far cry from the casual, teasing remarks you’d grown used to.

Your mom’s sharp eyes caught the interaction immediately, a sweet but curious smile spreading across her face. “Oh, who are these, baby?” she asked, her tone sugary and pleasant, yet her eyes held that familiar intensity, always measuring, always calculating.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “These are my friends, Mom,” you mumbled, your voice tight with discomfort. You could feel the awkwardness creeping in, but Yamaguchi, always quick to ease tension, stepped in.

“I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi,” he says with a friendly bow, his smile warm and reassuring. “It’s really nice to meet you.” He steps aside slightly, gesturing to Tsukishima. “And this is my friend, Kei Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima, standing tall and stiff, nods politely. His gaze meets yours for a brief moment, but his expression remains neutral, though there’s a subtle softness in his eyes that you’ve grown to notice in rare moments like these.

Your mother’s smile broadens, clearly pleased with their politeness. “What a pleasure to meet you both!” she says, her voice sweet, yet commanding. “Have you two ordered anything?”

Yamaguchi, ever polite, shakes his head. “No, we haven’t, we just got here,” he says, his voice carrying that friendly tone that’s always put you at ease.

Your mom’s eyes light up as she gestures toward the empty seats at the table. “Then why don’t you join us? We’re about to celebrate our daughter’s birthday.”

There’s a pause, a flicker of surprise in Yamaguchi’s expression as he looks to you for confirmation. Tsukishima remains unreadable, though there’s a faint furrow in his brow as his gaze shifts between you and your mother.

You want to disappear. The thought of them sitting here, with your parents—especially your mom, who is effortlessly charming on the outside but controls everything on the inside—makes your pulse quicken with anxiety. But you know better than to refuse her invitation. You manage a tight smile, nodding slightly as if to say it’s okay, even though it feels anything but.

Yamaguchi, sensing the tension, quickly agrees, his warm nature once again diffusing the awkwardness. “We’d be honored,” he says with a genuine smile. Then, realizing the occasion, he quickly added, “We didn’t know it was your birthday. We should’ve brought you a gift!”

Your mother waved her hand dismissively, her voice sweet but firm. “No, please. We’re happy enough to have you both celebrating with us tonight,” she said, her smile perfectly placed. She turned to your father, her voice laced with authority. “Isn’t that right?”

Your father, glanced up and nodded with a welcoming smile. “Please, take a seat,” he added, his voice kind but measured, a reflection of the calm confidence he always carried.

Yamaguchi hesitated for a moment, glancing at you as if seeking confirmation, but when he saw your awkward nod, he smiled again and accepted. “Well, if you insist,” he said lightly, easing into the situation with his usual warmth. Tsukishima, on the other hand, seemed a bit more reluctant, his eyes scanning the table before he finally took the seat next to you, his expression neutral but quietly observant.

As everyone settled into the table, the waiter returned to take your orders, but the knot in your stomach remained. This wasn’t how you had envisioned spending your birthday, and now with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi joining, the evening felt even more surreal.

The dinner conversation began smoothly, with your mom doing most of the talking, naturally guiding the conversation toward familiar territory. It wasn’t long before she turned the focus onto your dad’s accomplishments, her voice slipping into that familiar, prideful tone. “So, you boys are athletes at the university. That’s impressive!” she remarked. “My husband played softball when we met at university, though for him, it was more of a hobby. He pursued law school, of course.” She glanced at your father, a knowing smile on her lips. “He’s one of the top patent attorneys in the country now, you know.”

You winced slightly at her words, the way she effortlessly dropped in that fact, the way she always did when she wanted to make an impression.

Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “You played softball, sir?” he asked, grinning widely.

Your dad smiled, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes. “Yes, I did. But I ended up following in my father’s footsteps and becoming an attorney instead.”

The conversation continued smoothly, Yamaguchi nodding along, his curiosity keeping the exchange alive. Tsukishima, however, noticed your silence. He sat quietly beside you, his eyes occasionally flickering toward you as if sensing the growing tension beneath your calm exterior. You picked at your meal, feeling the weight of your mother’s words pulling you deeper into your thoughts.

“We’re both in our final year, though Tsukishima and I are on different major. I’m in sports science, planning to become a professional athletic trainer.” He beamed, the excitement for his future palpable in his tone.

Your mother’s eyebrow arched with interest. “Oh, that’s wonderful! A career with a lot of potential, I’m sure. Are you planning to work with any professional teams?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up. “That’s the goal, yes. I’m hoping to start with local teams first, maybe even with our university’s teams after graduation. It’s all about building connections and experience.”

Your father, who had been quiet until now, chimed in with a smile. “That’s a solid plan. Athletics is a tough field, but it sounds like you have a good head on your shoulders, young man.”

Yamaguchi chuckled humbly, scratching the back of his neck. “I appreciate that, sir. It’s been a lot of hard work, but I’m really passionate about it.”

Your mother, still wearing her perfect smile, turned her gaze toward Tsukishima, her curiosity clearly piqued. “And what about you, Tsukishima-san?” Her voice took on a slightly more formal tone as she used his first name. “What are you studying?”

Tsukishima nodded once, his expression neutral. “Biochemistry, like your daughter.”

Your mother’s eyes widened slightly, impressed. “Biochemistry? That’s quite a challenging field. You must be very bright to handle that workload.”

Tsukishima, ever modest, shrugged lightly. “It’s manageable with the right time management.”

But your mother wasn’t done. Her attention zeroed in on this new revelation like a hawk. “Wait—are you her senior as well?”

You could feel the weight of the conversation shifting, and you braced yourself. Tsukishima glanced at you briefly before nodding. “I am, yes. I was her teaching assistant last semester.”

Your mother’s eyes practically sparkled with newfound interest, the dots connecting rapidly in her mind. “You’re in the same major, and you were her TA? That’s incredible.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into that sugary tone she often used when she wanted something. “Tell me, Tsukishima-san, how do you manage it all? Senior year, biochemistry, TA responsibilities… I imagine it must be overwhelming at times.”

Tsukishima took a moment before answering, his expression thoughtful. “It can be, but I’ve been balancing it for a while now. I also play for the university’s volleyball team, so managing my time effectively is important. It’s all about setting priorities and staying disciplined.”

Your mother looked almost starstruck, her voice now filled with admiration. “That’s remarkable! You must come from a very disciplined family.”

Tsukishima’s expression remained unreadable, though he gave a polite nod. “My family values hard work.”

You noticed how smoothly Tsukishima navigated the conversation, always answering just enough to be respectful but never offering more than necessary. Your mother, however, seemed to hang on every word.

She turned to you then, her eyes narrowing slightly, the subtle shift in her tone becoming sharper. “See, dear? Your senior here has managed to balance academics, sports, and a TA position all while maintaining his responsibilities. Maybe you should take some notes on how to be more independent.”

The sharpness of her words hit you like a slap, even though she masked it with a tight smile. You felt a lump form in your throat, your hands clenching under the table. It was always like this—no matter what you did, you were never enough in her eyes.

Your father frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Now, honey, our daughter’s doing her best. She’s still adjusting—”

But your mother cut him off, her eyes still fixed on you. “Adjusting? She’s been in university for a while now, and yet she still seems to be dependent on others for help. It’s always an excuse, isn’t it? When will she learn to take responsibility and focus properly?”

The familiar sting of her criticism made your chest tighten. Without saying anything, Tsukishima reached under the table, his hand brushing against yours. His fingers wrapped around your hand gently, holding it tight enough to send you warmth, yet not so tight that anyone would notice. You turned your head slightly, eyes meeting his. His gaze was steady, calm, almost unreadable, but there was an unspoken reassurance there, as if he understood how suffocating this all felt.

He gave your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and for a brief moment, the knot in your stomach loosened. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

“With all due respect, ma’am, your daughter works very hard.” His words cut through the tension like a knife, drawing everyone’s attention. “She may struggle at times, but that’s normal. Biochemistry isn’t an easy major, and it takes time to find your footing. But I’ve seen her put in the effort. She asks questions, she seeks help when she needs it, and she’s been improving.”

Your mother blinked, clearly taken aback by Tsukishima’s defense of you. She opened her mouth to respond, but Tsukishima continued, his gaze steady.

“It’s not easy balancing everything,” he added, his tone thoughtful. “And independence doesn’t come overnight. It’s a process. She’s doing the best she can, and that’s something worth recognizing.”

Your heart swelled with gratitude at his words, the weight on your chest lifting slightly. It wasn’t often that someone stood up for you like that, and hearing it from Tsukishima—someone who rarely spoke so openly—made it all the more meaningful.

Your mother, clearly caught off guard, hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure. Her smile returned, though there was a hint of tightness in it now. “Well, I suppose you would know better, given your position as her senior,” she said, her tone polite but no longer as sharp. “It’s just… as her parents, we want to see her succeed.

Your father, sensing the shift, quickly jumped in, his voice calm. “Of course, we do, but sometimes, honey, it’s important to let her find her own way.”

Yamaguchi, who had been quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up, his voice light and friendly, trying to ease the tension. “I think she’s doing great, honestly. And besides, university is all about figuring things out, right? No one has it all together from the start.”

Your mother glanced at him, her smile softening slightly at his easygoing nature. “I suppose that’s true,” she conceded, though her eyes flicked back to you with a lingering look.

The conversation gradually moved on, but Tsukishima’s words lingered in the air. You could feel his quiet presence beside you, a steady anchor in the midst of the storm.

Then, Tsukishima suddenly spoke, his voice low and direct, pulling you back into the moment. “So, I wonder,” he began, his tone thoughtful, “why didn’t you follow the same path as your father?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. It caught you off guard, especially coming from Tsukishima, who usually preferred not to engage in such personal topics. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, your mom jumped in, her voice carrying that usual air of authority.

“She’s always had a fascination with science,” your mother said, smiling fondly. “I remember when she was little, she got really upset when her pet fish died. She told me she wanted to learn how to help animals, so we always supported her interest in biology and science. That’s why I encouraged her to take up biochemistry in university—it seemed like a natural fit for her passion.”

There’s a pause as Tsukishima listens, his eyes flickering back to you, noticing the tension in your posture. The slight tilt of his head tells you he understands that wasn’t the answer you wanted to give.

Your gaze falls back to your plate as the memory resurfaces. “My fish died because you put it in the big aquarium in the living room,” you murmur, not looking up. “The other fish ate it while it was still adapting.”

There’s a sharp silence before your mother waves off your words with a dismissive, sweet laugh. A heavy pause lingered. Your mother chuckled lightly, waving it off. “Oh, sweetie, that’s not the point. I told you we’d get you a new one, but you were so upset. I remember you saying you’d become a vet to save more animals—such a sweet promise.”

As she speaks, your mind drifts to that moment years ago—a flashback of a younger you, standing before the large aquarium, your eyes wide with horror.

You were ten, standing in front of the enormous fish tank in the living room, clutching the small glass bowl that held your beloved pet fish. The shiny scales of the fish shimmered under the sunlight, its tiny body so fragile. You had begged your mother not to move it to the big tank, convinced that it was too small, too delicate to survive with the larger fish.

“Don’t worry,” your mom had said with a reassuring smile, lifting the fishbowl from your hands. “It will be happier in a bigger space.”

But the moment your fish was released into the tank, you knew something was wrong. The other fish circled it, their movements predatory and swift. In your panic, you had tried to stop it, your small hands banging against the glass, but it was too late. You watched helplessly as they tore into the tiny creature, your heart shattering as it disappeared into the jaws of the larger fish.

“Mom!” you had cried, tears streaming down your face as you stood frozen in place, horrified.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she had said calmly, brushing your hair away from your tear-streaked face. “We’ll get you another one. One that’s stronger.”

But no new fish had ever replaced the one that died that day. The sight of it being devoured haunted you for days. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the tank again, let alone keep any more pets. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t just about the fish—it was about the care, the attachment, the life you had tried to protect and failed. You had learned, painfully, that your feelings were insignificant, easily dismissed. Even now, as your mother laughed at the memory, your stomach knotted.

Back in the present, you sit silently, your mother’s cheerful recollection of the event feeling like a distant echo of the actual memory. You can feel Tsukishima’s hand tighten just a bit more around yours, grounding you. He doesn’t say anything, but in that brief squeeze, you feel understood—more than any words could offer. His thumb traces over your knuckles slowly, offering you a quiet, unspoken solace amidst the clamor of the dinner conversation that’s no longer yours.

The conversation continues around you, but you’re not really listening anymore. You’re just focused on the gentle pressure of Tsukishima’s hand, feeling just a little less invisible.

As the waiter clears the plates on your table, another one brings out the cake—birthday cake, your hands fidget slightly in your lap, the candles’—in number 20—warm light reflecting in your eyes. The staff’s singing feels loud in your ears, but Yamaguchi’s cheerful clapping makes you smile despite the awkwardness. When your father holds up the phone, you feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, especially as Yamaguchi’s enthusiasm brightens the moment. “Make a wish!” he calls, his voice cutting through your nerves.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply. The room quiets for a moment as you focus on the wish, your heart fluttering between uncertainty and hope. When you blow out the candles, everyone claps, but it’s Tsukishima’s soft, lingering gaze that catches your attention. His calm, almost imperceptible smile feels like a silent acknowledgment, one that reassures you more than words could.

You begin slicing the cake, your hands trembling slightly as you hand out each piece, smiling when you see Yamaguchi dive into his slice with delight. Just as you settle into your own piece, your mother’s soft voice cuts in, “Oh baby, you shouldn’t eat this at night, you’ll ruin your diet, and I don’t want to upset your nutritionist. You can save it for later, okay?”

Your fork freezes halfway to your mouth. The table goes quiet, and you feel the weight of their eyes on you, your mother’s disapproving gaze and the awkwardness that follows her comment settling heavily on your shoulders. The smile you had slips as you glance down at your plate. The sweet taste of the cake now feels hollow.

Your father tries to defend you, his voice softer than before. “Let her enjoy it, it’s her birthday.” His words attempt to lift the mood, but your mother’s insistence lingers, wrapping you in a suffocating sense of control you can’t quite shake.

“She’ll get sick if she eats too much sugar and processed flour. We don’t want that, do we?” Your father falls silent, his efforts to defend you fading. The once-lively atmosphere now feels strained, but as you take another look at your plate, you push the thoughts aside.

As the dinner winds down, your mom turns to Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. “Thank you for being here tonight,” she says warmly, “Now, how about sharing your birthday wishes?”

Yamaguchi’s face lights up as he leans forward. “I wish you all the best, good health, happiness, and that you stay gorgeous and slay every day!” His playful warmth eases the tension just a bit, drawing laughter from the table, but it’s Tsukishima’s quiet observation that follows which lingers longer.

He looks at you, his gaze steady, almost piercing. His lips part as he speaks, his voice softer but deliberate. “I hope you heal from the things you can’t talk about… and that you start doing what’s right for you.”

The words hang in the air, much deeper than the usual birthday pleasantries, touching something raw within you. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for a brief moment, you feel exposed, but also seen—understood in a way no one else at the table has managed. His calm demeanor doesn’t falter, but there’s a sincerity in the way he speaks that makes your chest tighten with emotion.

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