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darling-flora · 3 months ago

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feather 2

max x yn!singer - social media au

fc: sabrina carpenter

part 1 : HERE

notes: please please please let me know what ya think !!! ❣ rt's are appreciated !!! (i used google translate for some dutch words, so let me know if anything's wrong!!)

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maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 3 🏆

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user1 wait is y/n taller or is max shorter ??

↳yourinstagram 7 inch heels 🫣...

user2 PARENTS !!!!

user3 first picture needs to be framed 🥺

yourinstagram love youuuuu 💙

user4 MY GOAT 🐐

user5 TIME FOR 4 🏆🏆🏆🏆

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yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 8,959,914 others

yourinstagram quick trip.... 💋💙

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user1 never looked better !!!

user2 cuties 😪

maxverstappen1 best date ever ❤

liked by yourinstagram

user3 bro why aren't they ever paparazzied together?? like is it PR??? he was papped with his ex....

↳user4 because his ex called the paparazzi..... ↳user5 they both rarely get papped when they are alone so it's the same when they're together, he was ALWAYS papped with his ex so..... put 2 and 2 together 🙃

user6 wearing 7 inch heels only to still be shorter then max🤭

danielricciardo max looks so yummy 🤤

↳yourinstagram he is 😉 ↳danielricciardo ew ↳yourinstagram YOU started it ?? ↳user7 😭😭?

user8 two goats 😋

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yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 8,959,914 others

yourinstagram coachellaaaa weekend 1 & 2 what a dream !! these were two of the most electrifying shows I've ever played 💙!!!!, and I can’t believe you guys were already singing along to espresso (more to come soon 😉). I feel so incredibly lucky to of gotten the honor to perform for you all. thank you to everyone who came to watch and everyone watching at home!!!!

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user1 you ate that mama 🤩

maxverstappen1 wow wow wow my mooie meisje (pretty girl)

maxverstappen1 every time i see you it's like seeing you for the first time

maxverstappen1 y/nchella is going to be the only thing on my mind for awhile....

↳user2 BRO you have practice in CHINA in TWO DAYS ????? IT'S A SPRINT WEEKEND TOO ?!?!?!?!? ↳maxverstappen1 y/n on the mind while driving helps me win ↳user2 ..... ↳user2 i respect it 🤝

maxverstappen1 love you my mooie meisje (pretty girl)

↳yourinstagram love youuuu 😚 ↳yourinstagram i'll be waiting for you in miami 😉 ↳user3 ohhh they freaky 🤭

user4 i've NEVER seen max comment like this before holyyyyy 😭💀

user5 WAIT i thought espresso was a "cute little song" but are we getting a new album soon??

↳user6 she got out of a sh1tty relationship then got into a healthy relationship so i think she has a few things to write about.....😭

user7 espresso the hit that you are!!!!!!!!!

user8 the woman that you are wow wow wow 🤯

user9 the vocals !! the fits !! and the FACE !! TENS across the board 😩

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voguemagazine

Liked by user1, user2 and 1,959,944 others

voguemagazine While we're patiently waiting for the release of Y/n's album Short n' Sweet, lets go behind the scenes of the 2nd single "Please Please Please"s music video which featured L/n's boyfriend and Three Time Formula One Champion of World Max Verstappen.

"I ended the last video getting arrested, so naturally I thought it would be satisfying to start the 'Please Please Please' video in jail", said the singer. "I liked the idea of falling in love with a convict and being shocked and embarrassed every time he commits crimes. I was sooo lucky to get Max Verstappen in the video 'cause he's a busy guy but I was a little unsure who I wanted to play the guy who I was falling in love with, then I realized "why not have the guy your in love with be the love interest?" and he was instantly down." said the singer after the music video was released.

The video’s director said "The amount of energy and effort he put in while also being conscious of being out of the way or it not being about him, it was great. It’s hard to cast people in general, but to get them that dedicated is unique." he added "During the first few takes before Max got used to having to act, anytime he'd look at Y/n he'd smile and almost like melt so we had to give him a few pointers but after that he killed it" video’s director said about Verstappen.

The director added "The two were professional on camera but after the camera cut they'd laugh and behave as any other couple, it’s super weird and very meta. They’re essentially playing themselves in this really elevated and theatrical way that is not themselves at all. Now there was this responsibility because they’re a couple and they’re being filmed together for the first time in this kind of really big way, so that responsibility of doing them both justice and making them both look amazing and making sure that people understand that this is fiction while keeping it light and lovely became the priority."

Read more -> HERE

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user1 this bts just told me that they are crazy in love 😭❤

user2 my favorite part was when dua and callum broke up a day after the music video came out

↳user3 then got back together.... just messy 😭 ↳user2 they are prob gonna break up again after the albums out 🤫

user4 max being down to do this is so iconic, also him posting her any chance he gets is my favorite thing!!

user5 it's SOOOO refreshing to see that she's so much more happier in this relationship !! and the fact that he isn't afraid to talk about her

↳user6 they do it very tastefully too!! like anytime i hear something that they've said about each other it always seems so genuine and love filled 🥺❤ ↳user5 this!!! anytime her ex was asked about her he was always so annoyed but when she was asked she would always praise him but he just never did the same 😕

user7 STOPPPP the picture of her hiding behind him is so cute

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yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 10,959,944 others

yourinstagram Short n’ Sweet is officially yours now!!!

i feel extremely lucky that each time i write a new record i learn a little bit more about myself, and can create from that place. the making of short n’ sweet was one of the most special, honest, up and down, stupid and fun experiences of my life.

thank you to my brilliant talented friends, writers, producers, mixers, engineers, and creative minds that helped me bring this world and these songs to life. not a serious thought was thunk yet somehow they were.. lol i love you all and am so grateful.

I will keep this short n sweet buuuut more soon. go listen now and i hope you love it as much as i do❤

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user1 Your mind ❤️!

maxverstappen1 love you so much. So so proud of you 💙

↳yourinstagram love love love love youuuu , ty for being you 💙

user2 So endlessly proud of you

oscarpiastri Ahhhhhh I'm obsessed!!

↳yourinstagram TYYYYYYY Mr. Pastry 😁

user3 So proud of you and love you endlessly. Can't pick a favorite!!!

user4 i was already obsessed two seconds in to the first song like wow… you are truly unreal. my favorite album to exist

danielricciardo most perfect album of all time

↳yourinstagram ty dannyy ☺

user5 short n sweet = no skips 💋

user6 Wowowow I didn’t skip a single song in this album. 💿 loooove it so much angel.

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maxverstappen1

Liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 9,559,944 others

maxverstappen1 So so so proud of you, Short n' Sweet has been on repeat from the second i heard it. Seeing how hard you've worked and how much of yourself you've put into this and being by your side every step of the way has been such a pleasure.

love you y/n 💙

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maxverstappen1 also, would happily fulfill your wishes of making you juno yourinstagram 😁

↳maxverstappen1 or try some freaky positions... ↳user1 MAXX ?? ↳redbullracing Max, please think of the sponsor's.... ↳maxverstappen1 I'm opening the door to new sponsors.... ↳yourinstagram STOPPPP ↳yourinstagram their gonna take away your social media privilege's 😭 ↳user2 are we ignoring the fact that max said he'd happily impregnate Y/N ?????

user3 the first and last picture's are so cute 😪

user4 i need to be in a relationship NOW 😠

user5 he loves her so bad.... im gonna be single forever 😩

user6 IF A MAN WANTED TOO, HE WOULD!!!

user7 these pic's almost make you forget she's getting freaky deaky on the album

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enews

Liked by user1, user2 and 1,869,944 others

enews 🚨 BREAKING 🚨 Callum Turner and Dua Lipa have called it quits after a year of on and off dating. The timeline of when the two started dating is unclear but after a dinner in Los Angeles where the two seemed to be having problems the pair left the restaurant at the same time but in separate cars.

Only a day after the break up Turner was seen with a mystery blonde women while Dua Lipa was seen at an airport heading for London.

The relationship seemed to of become rocky after Y/n L/n released her singles "Espresso" and "Please Please Please". Then with the release of Y/n L/n's album Short n’ Sweet which contains multiple songs that are about their relationship.

Do you think it's a "Coincidence" they've broken up multiple time's around the releases' of Y/n L/n's music ?

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user1 just MESSSYYYY people omg

user2 i do NOT feel bad for either of them 😭

↳user like he fumbled y/n so badddd ↳user also he found a BLONDE girl RIGHT after breaking up with dua.... like im giggling 🤭

user3 a "year of on and of dating" is killinggggg me 💀😂

user4 "you're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin'" she really clocked his ass 😭

user5 the blonde is allegedly dua's friend..... 😭💀

↳user1 not him pulling a leclerc 🤭

user6 both nobody's without y/n....

user7 "oh, wow, you just broke up again" 😭

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yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 10,559,944 others

yourinstagram p2 in zandvoort 💙

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user1 SHES BACK AT THE RACES !!!

user2 i know this DIVA 💜!!

maxverstappen1 the most important attendee at any race 😚

↳yourinstagram cutie😘 ↳user3 please be mindful that most of us are single....

user4 no one else could be as iconic of a wag as you are 🙂‍↕️

user5 y/n photo dump is always gonna eat 😩

whitneypeak 😚🤞

user6 move over max

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enews

Liked by user1, user2 and 1,869,944 others

enews Callum Turner spoke out about his relationship's being in the spotlight, while Turner and Y/n L/n's relationship was private, Callum and Dua Lipa's relationship was a public whirlwind of an on and off relationship.

"I know that people are always going to be curious especially when it's two famous people being seen together [...] I knew that she was going to write music because it's what she does [...] you know she'll do whatever to help her career [...] at the end of they day i wish her all the best."

Y/n L/n has been in a relationship with Three Time Formula One Champion of World Max Verstappen for over a year, the pair haven spoken very highly of each other and the two have supported each other’s careers. While some of her songs off her recent album Short n’ Sweet like Taste, Coincidence, and Dumb & Poetic are about Turner, the more playful and loving songs like Espresso, Bed Chem, and Juno are about Verstappen.

What do you think about Turners comments?

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user1 "two famous people" when no one knew who he was until they started dating....

↳user2 i remember a director saying they didn't know who he was, then y/n introduced callum to the director, the director knew who she was because his daughter was a fan... 🤭

user3 he cheated on y/n then had the balls to say "she'll do whatever to help her career" ????? he needs to be serious

user4 "If you don't wanna cry to my music, don't make me hate you prolifically" 🫣

user5 bro can't even say her name he knows he fumbled 😭

user6 he should've kept his mouth shut 🙄

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max1.jpg

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,335,690 others

max1.jpg no need to wish because she is/has it

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user1 WHACK #HIM AGAIN MAX!!

user2 if i was dating y/n i too would post her every second i got

user3 WAIT did yall get a puppy

↳max1.jpg we have FOUR cats, we do not need a dog... ↳yourinstagram you hate me 😔 ↳max1.jpg maybe after the tour... ↳yourinstagram YIPPEE 🥳

user4 HE'S SO PETTY OMG 😭

user5 thank you max for standing up for our girlfriend 😚 THAT guy needed to be humbled

↳max1.jpg 🫡

user6 he lovessss her so much 😪

user7 im the reason for 1 billion streams btw😁

user8 "at the end of they day i wish her all the best" and max shut his ass up 🤭

user9 the only woman ever 🙂‍↕️ (im a woman)

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#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfiction #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen fluff #mv1 x reader #mv1 fanfiction #max verstappen imagine #f1 grid x reader #max verstappen fake instagram #max vertsappen fic #f1 smau

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misted-dream · 7 months ago

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BET YOU WANNA BE MINE ﹒⌗﹒🥀﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 재현 + fem!reader

in which . . . the last person you expected to show up in front of your door at midnight is jaehyun—your ex.

content&warnings | MDNI smut, profanity, mentions of dui, infidelity, angst bc exes, toxic themes (jaehyun is a red flag), oral f receiving, dirty talk, unprotected sex

word count | 3.2k

⋆.˚ . . . heavily inspired by roses by jaehyun of course

12:01AM

a knock sounds at your apartment door.

your tired feet shuffle slowly through the dimness of your living room, with the warm glow of the kitchen light spilling over.

a shadow bleeds through the gap beneath your door, blocking the hallway light in two different spots.

with the chain still attached, you twist the handle, opening the door only slightly.

you tilt your head, angling yourself to get a view of whoever’s standing on the opposite side.

…

without hesitation, you press your palm to the wooden surface, pushing on the door to shut it. hard.

“wait!” a voice calls from outside.

his voice calls from outside.

and you notice the door, in fact, isn’t shut when it should be by now; a shoe wedging in between the frame.

your body stills for a second, despite the alarms ringing in your head.

“is he here?” he asks, meekly.

for whatever reason, you decide to respond, “no.”

the ‘he’ in question is your current boyfriend, whom the ‘he’ outside your apartment right now knows enough about to render that question needlessly rhetorical. and useless.

you push harder on the door, trapping his foot tighter between the wooden board and its frame.

“can i just speak to you? 5 minutes,” he pleads, “5 minutes is all i need.”

you know him well enough that if you were to say ‘no’ to his bidding here, it’d be easy to assume he’d stay the night in the corridor outside—and then you’ll actually be fucked if your boyfriend saw him in that state tomorrow morning.

you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“move your goddamn foot.”

he does what you say; a part of him scared that you’re just gonna shut the door on him, but relief comes in the form of you standing there, the door swung open, and you looking straight at him.

“speak.”

he licks his bottom lip, glossing over it lightly. the bright lights overhead highlights his cheekbones, sculpting his face like a statue.

“yn…”

“jaehyun.”

this is the first time—first time in 7 months that you spoke his name aloud and not cursed him in the same breath.

he staggers a step behind him, and you instinctively reach out. upon realisation, you pull your arm back.

jaehyun clamps his eyes shut, his nose slightly scrunching up as if he’s recalling something particularly difficult to say. “i really—”

“are you drunk?” the sharpness in your voice shoots him awake with his eyes opened.

“no,” he replies firmly and adds a shake with his head, “no.”

you sigh. “how did you get here?”

“i have a car.”

“you fucking drove—are you insane?” despite every conscious effort to not get close to him, you find yourself tugging on his arm with your hand, pulling him inside before he has a chance to collapse on the floor. jaehyun shows absolutely zero signs of resistance to this.

the door slams shut behind you two.

“sit down,” you utter, more like a command than anything. “i’ll get you some water.”

jaehyun is drunk; there’s no denying it. but not drunk enough to not know how to navigate your apartment even in the dark. perhaps, he has your history to thank for that.

he sinks down into your couch with you shortly appearing next to him with a mug in your hands that you cup his fingers over.

“thanks,” he mutters softly, taking a sip of water.

“don’t think your 5 minutes doesn’t still stand,” you watch him pointedly. a sudden impatience ringing in his bones, jolting his posture upright.

jaehyun sets the mug down on the coffee table. eyes looking up at you as you stand over him.

he breathes out deeply.

he drops his gaze to the mug for a moment, looking as though he’s contemplating his words carefully. the slight hum of your fridge being the only thing you can hear, and suddenly it’s a thousand times louder than usual.

meeting your eyes again, he leans forward.

with every beat of silence that comes, a hammering picks up in your chest.

his lips part, and the words that follow fall heavily. "i think about you."

air is knocked out of your lungs momentarily. you feel your shoulders drop.

"i miss you," jaehyun's voice is like a needle. feeble, almost undetectable, and aiming straight for your heart.

the stabbing pain that you felt more than half a year ago when you and jaehyun broke up returns. your heart dropping straight to your stomach, sinking and stirring around in the acid.

you can only scoff.

"stop fucking around," your tone harsh and your voice coarse. you fold your arms across your chest, regarding him with slight contempt in your eyes.

"i'm not," jaehyun counters, "yn—"

"no," you sternly shut him down. "this isn't fair, you know it isn't fair."

you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out, a result of the long suppressed, built up anger and resentment you held towards your ex.

“you were the one who broke up with me, jaehyun.”

jaehyun only looks at your face. his brows softened, knitting together slightly as he studies the expression on it.

“i know,” he offers in the way of a comfort. arms reaching out to you and holding your wrists in his hands.

if it wasn’t for the overtly complex prism of emotions inside of you right now, there’d be more aversion to his touch. but his skin on yours feels so familiar. it feels right. so much so that you allow yourself to be pulled closer to him sitting there.

maybe less allow, and more just letting your body move to whatever stimulus in a catatonic state.

you’re standing in between his knees, looking down at him, and the urge to fall right back into your once favourite habits emerges from the pit of your stomach. but your mind is clear enough to keep to your discipline.

jaehyun picks one of your hands up to his lips. gently, he kisses the back of it; a gesture way too intimate but you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

“i fucked up,” his voice is low and steady as he brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “i know i did, and i shouldn’t have.”

he runs his other hand up your leg, soft like a feather caressing you. and suddenly, it’s like you’re brought back to reality—the fact that this is actually happening and you’re allowing it to.

“stop,” you pull your hand away from his grip, “it’s too late for apologies, jaehyun.”

when you were together, every time his name fell from your lips, it sounded sheepish, like he’s some high school crush that you’re afraid to utter the name of. and this time, it’s none different.

he settles his hand on top of your hips. “i’m sorry,” he voices completely disregarding what you just said.

you shake your head, “that doesn’t mean anything.” there was a time where you would’ve given anything to hear this from him. except now, as bitterness has steadily been building in you, you’d much rather have him beg and plead for your forgiveness instead.

“i miss you,” he says again. his glassy eyes telling of his desperation, which is only amplified by him pulling your waist closer.

you put your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself away as much as you can. “i have a boyfriend,” you throw out weakly, as if even you don’t believe it to be a strong enough argument against the case that is jung jaehyun.

“and i never should’ve let you get that chance. to be with him.”

all the anger and resentment you still felt towards jaehyun just a few moments ago seems to have dissipated. you relax your arms, your body moving in closer to his.

your eyelids flutter over jaehyun’s features. he’s always been handsome, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this. under you, shadows casted on his face from your body, eyes dark with anticipation.

you fix your eyes on his, “i can’t do this to him.”

if you had known jaehyun would be coming, you wouldn’t have worn this particular pair of shorts. “i don’t care about him,” he says rubbing the bare back of your thigh with his palm.“this is about you. us.” jaehyun pulls your legs up onto the couch, sitting you on top of his knees.

his eyes glaze over you like honey, and memories of the two of you fill his mind. you have never been more beautiful than right now.

the tip of his thumb grazes the side of your cheeks, pushing your hair back. “tell me you don’t miss me, and i’ll leave.”

you stay in silence, completely enchanted with just a look from him that close to you.

“i thought so,” jaehyun admits lowly, like a whisper.

you can’t pinpoint where in the brief encounter tonight that jaehyun took control over the situation, but the thing is that he is certainly holding the reins.

he presses his lips on yours, gently at first, as if already savouring this moment for reminiscing later. as he feels you kissing him back, he pushes in deeper.

his hands slide your hips further down his lap. lips still interlocked, he kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his last meal.

he hums, mumbling against your lips, “i missed you so fucking much,” the vibrations sending a chill down your spine, “god.”

you catch a faint scent of his cologne, the one you bought for him ages ago.

“i need to taste you,” he pulls away from your mouth shortly, mumbling the words, “will you let me?” into you.

you peel yourself off of him, catching your breath and nodding. and if that wasn’t enough, you breathe out a shaky “yes.”

jaehyun picks your body up in his arms, laying you down on the couch with your head on top of the rest. you watch him hook his fingers into your waistband and pull your shorts down, an eagerness to his pace.

he looks up at your face through your legs, waiting for confirmation of any kind before he similarly pulls your panties down.

you give him a subtle nod, and the next second, your cunt is bare and exposed to him. instinctively, your knees press together, clamming your thighs shut.

“oh, baby,” he tuts, palms spreading your legs open for him again. “fuck,” he bites down on his lip, “i missed this pretty pussy.”

helplessly, you feel the heat underneath your skin bloom in your cheeks.

jaehyun runs the tip of his finger up your slit, letting out hums of satisfaction as he does so. you feel your back arch slightly just at the littlest of movements from him. you swear you catch a smirk from him before he starts sucking on your clit.

his tongue works up and down your cunt, covering it in a mixture of your own wetness and his spit. he moans against you, “i missed how you taste.”

your hands find their way into jaehyun’s hair, gripping tightly and trying to resist the urge to push him deeper into your cunt.

he laps his tongue over and over your clit, a finger dragging up and down your folds. he hums, “do you still like it like this, baby?” he pushes the tip of his finger inside of you, easing his way in from the slickness.

slowly, he drags his finger in and out of your cunt, swirling circles with his tongue on your clit at the same time. gently, he places his other palm over your lower abdomen, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

you can’t help your legs from squirming under him.

“oh, you do, don’t you?” his voice undoubtedly laced with an edge of cockiness. brash from the fact that he's convinced he still knows your body in ways that no one else does, not even your current boyfriend.

but you'd rather die than ever even consider affirming that.

you bite down hard on your bottom lip, keeping the whines you so desperately want to release inside.

jaehyun keeps lapping his tongue over your cunt tirelessly, pumping his finger smoothly into you. then, without warning, adding another digit, and another.

despite your best efforts, a small cry escapes you. nails digging deep into jaehyun’s shoulders as you feel yourself stretched out on his fingers.

“fuck, jae,” you feel him purr at your nickname for him

“yes, baby?”

you feel the tightening in your stomach, your legs threatening to squeeze shut. “i’m close,” you faintly manage in between soft whimpers.

“do it,” jaehyun murmurs, his voice muffled against you, “i need to see you cum again.” his fingers quicken their pace, “please. cum on my face, baby.”

you fight the urge to not give him what he wants, but truly, he’s too good at making you feel good. his palm presses a little harder on your stomach, tipping you that little bit over the edge as the pressure releases on his fingers. a blinding wave of dopamine flashes across your eyes, your walls clenched tightly around his fingers so much so that jaehyun struggles to move his hand.

jaehyun mutters as he watches you; eyes shut tight, back arched, and hands holding his face in place as you ride your orgasm out on him.

“mhm, that’s it baby,” he mumbles as you slowly come down from your high. “good girl,” he smirks before pressing a final kiss on your clit.

he crawls over your body, caging you inside his arms with his hands on either side of your shoulders.

your eyelids feel heavy, drooping low as you watch jaehyun push your hair away from your face. “you’re still the prettiest when you cum,” he smiles cheekily.

you barely manage to breathe out a breathy, “shut up,” causing him to chuckle over you.

“don’t believe me?”

jaehyun takes one of your wrists, pulling your hand down to palm the front of his jeans.

“you don’t even have to do anything—that’s how fucking hard you make me.”

you look down at your hand cupping over his bulge. then, back up into his eyes, fingers unbuttoning the top of his jeans. “what are you gonna do about it then?”

jaehyun laughs an unamused laugh, and you know too well what that means.

“baby, baby,” he gently shakes his head. “you’re going to regret saying that.” he unzips the zipper, pulling his boxers down until his cock springs up free from its confines.

the tip of it swelling red, precum leaking little by little at a time.

you feel your body tremble at the sight of his dick, even after all this time. the first time you had sex with jaehyun, you couldn’t walk straight the next morning.

he wraps his hand around his shaft, pointing its head directly at your cunt. slowly, he spreads his precum all over your slit—still sensitive from your orgasm. he drags his tip over your entrance, teasing you and enjoying every second of it.

your body writhes at this fleeting touch, the need to be filled up with his dick chipping away at your dignity.

“you want this cock, baby?” jaehyun brushes your cheek with his thumb, like he’s wiping away tears. “i’ll give it to you.”

he steadies himself with his palms firmly planted on the armrest.

then, in one swift motion, he thrusts his hips into you, the entirety of his length disappearing inside you. the sudden shock of it making you scream out.

"what the fuck?" you curse him with your head thrown back.

jaehyun only smirks before pounding into you again, harder this time, eliciting a groan of his own. "i missed how good you feel, fuck."

your fingers attempt to grapple onto anything within reach, but come up short. one of your arms swing itself over jaehyun's neck, drawing your bodies closer as he thrusts again.

the sheer size of him inside you makes you feel like you're being split open. you moan out his name, his hips bucking inside of you as a response.

"i forgot how well you take my dick," his arm buckles slightly under his weight, "isn't that right, baby?" jaehyun begins to build a rhythm with his thrusts, pumping deep inside you every time.

he leans down, connecting your lips together softly, "you're made for me."

his thrusts grows harder, ramming himself into you with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your womb every time. you're sure that it will probably bruise by tomorrow.

the filthy noise of his skin slapping onto yours echo in your ears, mixing in with his gravelly moans. "he can't fuck you like this, can he?" jaehyun spits.

your hand goes up to cover your own mouth, not wanting to let the almost pornographic noises out of you. this only causes jaehyun to pull it away, pinning your wrist to the couch.

"oh, i know, baby. he can't fuck you like i do."

it doesn't take much before you can feel yourself nearing another orgasm. so close, it's practically within reach.

"jaehyun..." you moan weakly.

"you're gonna cum again for me, huh?" he hisses, "how long has it been since he's fucked you properly? cumming twice for me first time i see you again?"

all you can focus on is your incoming orgasm. back arching into his chest, your hand struggling to break free from his hold.

"please," you plead, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

"you want me to rub your clit, don't you?" jaehyun mutters in between hitches in his breath.

you nod, your body verging on begging him for it.

a knowing smirk plays on his lips. "tell me you're mine."

you let out a whine, frustrated that you can't free your hand to do it yourself.

"do it," he orders, "you want to cum? say you're mine."

"fuck," you pant, struggling to keep a steady breath. your mind hazy with overwhelming carnal pleasure, "fuck, i'm fucking yours. i'm yours."

"now, how hard was that?" jaehyun grins before snaking a hand down to rub circles on your sensitive nub.

within seconds, you feel your orgasm unravel itself on jaehyun's dick, walls closing in tight around him.

feeling you tightening around his cock, jaehyun buries his face in the crook of your neck. your hand holds onto his back, nails sinking into the muscle across his shoulder blades. you hear his muffled moans into your skin as he cums, releasing his load inside you and filling you up full with his cum.

curses slip past his lips as the two of you catch your breath, jaehyun still stuffed inside you.

the ringing from your orgasm begins to quiet down, and you give jaehyun a couple of taps on the shoulder. gently, he pulls himself out, and the sudden absence leaves your body aching for it again.

his body collapses next to you on the couch.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath.

"that was fucking stupid," you confess out loud, now that your head isn't clouded by pure animal instinct.

to your surprise, jaehyun agrees. "yeah," his chest rising and falling rapidly.

he shifts his weight onto his elbow, propping himself up. "but what are we if not stupid?" jaehyun leans in, pecking your lips quickly and then doing it again. a stupid, stupid grin on his face that you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss.

#k-labels #📂 - nct #nct #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct x reader #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun nct

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

mistletoe

a/n: thanks for helping me distract myself from everything that's happened these past few weeks ৎ୭

polls for the story: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

summary: while spending the holidays for the first time with your boyfriend’s family, you and his stepfather finally snap and a romance ensues.

warnings: boyfriend's stepdad!bucky barnes x reader x peter parker, smut, christmas stuff, major age gap (y/n is a uni student and bucky is in his 40-50's), college au, forbidden romance, cheating, established relationship, bucky has a tattoo sleeve instead of the metal arm, lawyer!bucky, dubcon, the classic "stuck under the bed" trope, clothed x naked, polyamory, threesome, kissing, dirty talk, public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, spit kink, masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, bondage, blindfold, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 8687

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When you five minutes earlier had snatched up the spare key hidden in the flowerpot on the frosty front porch of your boyfriend’s house, the last thing you’d expected to happen next, once you’d tip-toed inside the vacant abode, was the unfortunate entanglement you found yourself in presently.

Trotting up to Peter’s room, not long passed after you’d set down your bag, your mind scrambling for the best spot to plant yourself in to pose perfectly for the surprise you were about to spring on him, that the phone in your palm tumbled out of your grasp and in the hectic flickering that crackled through your senses, your foot accidentally bumped against the device and sent it soaring under the bed that stood in the middle of the room.

Through the grumbles that swiftly flowed from your lips, you sank down to your knees on the hardwood and twisted your head downward to grant you the perspective needed to spot the still glowing screen in the dusty darkness.

Soon half of your body had disappeared beneath the bed as you stretched an arm up as high as your reach would let you, though as the tip of your tongue peaked out past your lips and you tried to squeeze yourself further into the dark, only a whisper of your touch managed to graze against the phone’s smooth edge.

However, when the bright idea hit you to try and find a long item to help you scoop it closer to you, a sharp sting of resistance met your scalp as you reeled to try and crawl back out.

“Fuck!” you hissed as your right hand soared up to the clump of hair at the crown of your head that had somehow gotten snagged on the underside of the bed frame.

As you continued to yank and tug without prevail, dread slowly began to settle within your being before a creak suddenly found your ears and washed away some of the flickering panic.

“Oh, thank god you’re here!” you squeaked from under the bed at the person in the doorway, presumably the guy whose bed you were trapped under, “baby, I–,” an airy giggle couldn’t help but seep out and filter through your sentence as you said, “this isn’t how it was supposed to go, I was gonna lay down on your bed or something, all dramatically, and surprise you, but now none of that matters because I’m stuck,” you laughed at your pitiful situation, your bottom barely covered in your short skirt as it wiggled up at him, “Peter, please, just help me out. I wanna kiss you, I haven’t seen you in two months.”

Though your boyfriend didn’t utter a word as the floorboard groaned beneath each of his steps, slowly crossing the room till you felt his presence behind you.

“It’s my hair,” you muttered, your hand still curled up by your head, “I don’t know if there’s like a nail or whatever’s going on under here, but it’s caught on something, and I can’t get it free.”

Gently, you felt his hand reach under the bed till it was gliding up the back of your neck. Slipping your fingers down to his, the skin felt much more rough and calloused than you remembered, though you swiftly shrugged that observation off as you guided his touch up to the imprisoned strand.

As he attempted to break you free, his body couldn’t help but slope down against yours in order to reach your hair, and as you unconsciously wiggled beneath him at every futile attempt, you felt a hardness begin to grow and press up against your ass.

A giggle couldn’t help but slip from your lips as you noticed, “aw, baby. I’ve missed you too,” you rolled your hips and offered him a purposeful grind, “you just gotta get me out of here and then I’ll let you do whatever you want to me… promise…”

But as soon as you’d intentionally rocked back against him, his grasp in your hair began to slacken and melt away till he let his touch travel down the slope of your spine, ghosting across your curves till his fingertips tickled along the bottom hem of your skirt.

His warmth then disappeared from your frame as he sat back further behind you. Ever since you left your dorm room this morning, an excited spot bloomed and decorated your panties in anticipation of your sinful schemes, though now, hours later, the soaked patch that adorned the cotton that poked out from under your skirt, completely visible to the man behind you, had grown to a nearly embarrassing declaration of your desperation.

Slowly and almost hesitantly, he let his touch ghost over your covered core, catching you off guard by the tickling gentleness that your boyfriend hadn’t had to initiate with for the longest time as you’d both grown too comfortable with each other not to simply be bold in your actions, but this felt as if he was touching you for the very first time, as if he thought you were made of the purest porcelain.

A heavy breath shuttered out of your frame as his light touch grazed over your covered core, slowly swiping up and down the drenched gusset. Eyes fluttering shut, you quietly joked, “you watch too much porn,” your words came out sounding hazy as the cliché fantasy got to you too, “if you really want to reenact this genre, then I’d much rather do the version with a washing machine and then just pretend that I’m stuck in there, that’s a much less dusty version, plus I wouldn’t actually be trapped.”

But as his tentative touch kept up, you couldn’t help but tilt back into it and feel yourself sink further into the ecstasy.

Soon his fingers hooked in the sliver of cotton as he tugged the gusset to the side, glistening strings of your want clinging to the fabric as he exposed your cunt to him, and as then his touch brushed over you without any barrier to dull the sensation, a breathy moan tumbled out of your lungs.

Lightly, he rolled your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers, the slick sounds of your nectar sloshing and echoing throughout the bedroom as he tickled at your core.

And when his digits stopped resisting the tempting twitch of your entrance and they plugged it up so perfectly it made your toes curl, you soon found yourself moving even more desperately than his own efforts caressed you as you fucked yourself back onto his fingers in a rock so erratic that the movements ended up being your saving grace as your lock of hair pulled free.

A dizzy smile found your lips as you finally regained the ability to shift your head without an excruciating sting ripping at your scalp. Though just before you reached your peak, you twisted your head to glance back over your shoulder. Your eyes swiftly widened and your efforts ceased as the man whose fingers were making your drooling pussy sing wasn’t who you had assumed.

“O-oh fuck!” you quickly scrambled out from under the bed and jolted away out of pure shock as you came face to face with your boyfriend’s stepdad, “Mr Barnes!”

But just as his lips hesitantly parted in a reply, the front door downstairs slammed and caused you to shoot up to your feet, Bucky rising as well. With your chest heaving in your hazy periphery, you could barely think before your palms began to shove at the older man’s broad frame, till he crossed the threshold of the bedroom and his feet began to carry him the rest of the way down the hall till you watched from the doorway as he disappeared into a different room.

And with the soft click of that door closing behind him, the creaking on the grand staircase suddenly ceased and your eyes snapped over to find Peter frozen at the top step.

“Oh my god, babe!” he exclaimed, a wide grin swiftly warming up his features, “what are you doing here?” his feet shuffled towards you before his arms enclosed around your form, “why aren’t you at school? I thought you had exams till next Friday.”

Still in shock as you felt your pussy leak down your thighs, “I managed to get done early,” you tried to mirror your boyfriend’s smile as he pulled back to look at you, “surprise!”

When you last year had found yourself a little internship at the most prestigious law firm in town, it hadn’t come as a surprise to you just how many of the middle-aged men working there shamelessly flirted with you as you brought them their coffees. However, what you hadn’t expected in the slightest was Mr Barnes.

Though his attempts were much more subtle than the rest, they in no way had the same effect on you as they didn’t make you squirm as the others did, but instead every time you tip-toed past his corner office and he so much as offered you a glance, you felt yourself spiral into a blushing mess and morphed into nothing short of a flustered schoolgirl.

Numerous scorching trays of coffee were nearly dropped, sentences embarrassingly stumbled through, as well as many other minor casualties in the carnage created when the lawyer would flash you a rare smile.

But when December rolled around, and you found yourself at the annual holiday party, you should have looked up when you sauntered up to him to wish him a merry Christmas, as the dried twig of mistletoe above was swiftly made more than apparent to the both of you as every inebriated colleague surrounding you both grew rowdy, pressuring you till your lips met one another.

The kiss may have begun as forced and hesitant, but soon it morphed into something much stronger than anything they served at the open bar, causing you both to forget your own names as the buzzing party from around you melted away till it was just the two of you in the office. As the heated kiss broke and you remained incredibly close, blinking back at one another, a heavenly curve found your lips as he gazed down upon you as if he was mere moments away from tossing you over his shoulder and hauling you into his office to have his way with you, not caring one bit about the lack of privacy the fronted glass provided.

But just as your heart swelled in your chest, rumbles in the crowd swiftly broke it into a million tiny little pieces.

“Oh damn! Interns, they’re trouble. Just don’t tell your wife, Barnes! I know you’re new to that whole concept, what–, has it already been a whole month since the wedding?”

“Yeah, here’s a lesson for you,” a different man shouted through his laugh, “what happens at the office, stays at the office! Not really a good idea to take the fun and games back home to the missus.”

You almost quit a whole month before the opportunity was supposed to come to an end but couldn’t, as the mere thought of not seeing his face every day any longer somehow shattered your heart even further.

But one day, as you felt yourself drowning in the torture, Peter, a guy close to your own age showed up in the lobby, waiting for someone he knew at the firm. As his wait drew out and the minutes neared an hour, every ounce of his attention remained glued upon you. In an effort to mend your own heart, you decided that flirting back with him wasn’t the worst method to test out. However, it wasn’t till you began to move on and you actually fell for the sweet guy from the lobby that your world came crumbling down around you.

The first time that Peter had invited you back to his home, as soon as you walked through the door, the truth of the relation between your newly minted boyfriend and the man, who at that time hadn’t been your boss any longer for a few weeks, was instead tossed in your face like a bucket of ice water.

Mr Barnes turned out to be the rich asshole Peter’s mom had fallen for earlier that year, the one he often couldn’t hold his own tongue to grumble about as he hadn’t yet warmed up to the new father figure in his life.

And that was how you got stuck in the bittersweet reality you now lived in. There was no way you could end things with Peter as he was the most wonderful boyfriend you’d ever had and whom you’d genuinely grown to love. But that wasn’t the only reason why you couldn’t do it, since if you were to let him go, then you would also have to let go of Mr Barnes, even if he was just a harrowing haunting of a hopeless dream.

The house was completely silent as every soul within it slumbered, everyone except for you as plain beige wrapping paper crackled gently beneath the silk bow you tightened over it. You’d slipped into an office, that stood on the opposite side of the upstairs to where the cluster of bedrooms were, to secretly wrap up the handful of gifts you’d hidden at the very bottom of the bag you’d brought with you.

Though just as you sliced a pair of scissors through the paper to cut off a piece for the last present, a small bump suddenly echoed throughout the dark home.

Getting up from your makeshift workstation on the floor, you peeked out into the dim hallway. Your slow steps caused the floorboards to groan as you took a look around, even casting a glance down the staircase to the entryway that bloomed below, before the noise found your ears once more, snapping your attention to somewhere deeper down one of the shadowy corridors.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you crept closer to the latch you now noticed was open. Ladder unfurled, the abyss of the attic loomed above you and sent a shiver down your spine.

But then as a broad figure suddenly appeared in the opening, you couldn’t help but let out a shuttering yelp, even after you’d recognised the man whom your sudden shriek startled.

“Mr Barnes!” your palm soared up to your pounding heart, “I thought you were a ghost or a burglar or something! What in the world are you doing up there?”

Ascending the ladder, you noticed the heavy box he balanced in his arms, “I was just getting some decorations for the tree,” he huffed as you caught your breath, reminding you of the still bare pine tree that stood down in the living room.

“Right, I forgot that’s the plan for tomorrow,” you murmured as you spun around on your heel. Though as you entered the office once more, a glance over your shoulder led you to discover his shadow, “what are you doing?” you asked in a small voice as he followed you into the room.

“This is my study,” he tilted his head as if that was common knowledge.

“Oh,” you breathed, “I didn’t know,” and glanced down at the gifts you’d left on the floor, “sorry, I’ll go somewhere else.”

But just as you bent down to gather up your supplies, his deep voice crackled from behind you, “no need, make yourself at home,” he sat down the box before rummaging through it, taking out a few of the delicate ornaments before only tangles of twinkle lights were visible in the container, “I’ll only be a second.”

Kneeling down beside the electrical socket closet to the door, he then began to check all of the lights, one by one, making sure none of the tiny bulbs were dead.

And as you returned your hazy attention to the last of your remaining gifts, Mr Barnes then once again filled the silent office with his low tone, “…look, I–…” he hesitantly started, keeping his ocean stare glued to the ground, “you deserve an apology,” he exhaled heavily, “I don’t know what came over me earlier. It was wrong, completely inappropriate, and I can’t believe I let it happen.”

Blinking up at him as he refused to lift his gaze, a quiet, “oh…” shuttered out past your lips as his apology only broke your heart further. It, of course, hadn’t been ideal the way that he’d taken advantage of the unfortunate situation he’d found you in, but that doesn’t mean it hadn’t been a dream come true for you, complicated as it may have been.

“Kiddo,” he sighed, “I understand completely if you don’t wanna spend Christmas here anymore. You just say the word, and I’ll make the arrangements for you to go back home.”

“Is that what you want?” you heard yourself utter, “for me to go?”

Finally meeting your gaze, a crinkle found his dark brows, “…what I want can only cause harm…”

As you lost yourself in the ocean of his blue eyes, you whispered almost dreamily, “…do you still remember?” you felt your lips tingle at the memory as you slowly rose back up to your feet, “because up till today I had convinced myself that you were too drunk that night to recall…”

Shifting his gaze, Bucky then let out an exhale, “kid…” the single syllable carrying a gentle whisp of warning.

“Or is it just normal for you to kiss interns under the mistletoe,” you couldn’t help but go on, “especially like that?”

“No,” he finally murmured as his head found a slow rock from side to side, “it isn’t,” though swiftly met your stare to caution, “and I’d hold my tongue if I were you before you say something that you shouldn’t.”

“Like what?” you breathed, “the truth?”

“Stop,” he squeezed his eyes shut as his head faintly shook, “you’re my stepson’s girlfriend.”

“That’s true…” you averted your gaze to where your fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, “but he wasn’t the one that I fell for first… the one that I still can’t seem to get over…”

Your eyes then found one another for a split moment, locking with each other for a single breath before Bucky’s feet began to shift and he crossed the room. Catching your face in his wide palms, he then crashed his lips against your own.

Your heels instinctively levitated off the ground, lifting you up closer to his towering height as he kissed you like he’d just come home from some mystical war.

A sigh softly seeped out of your nose and tickled the grey that speckled his beard as you felt his starved tongue silkily sweep against your own.

But just as the intoxicating taste of him weakened your knees, he tilted his chin and cut the kiss short. Blinking up at him as he kept your jaw in his grasp, you breathed, “Mr Barnes–”

“What the fuck am I doing–,” a faint whisper seeped through his sigh, “I’m going to hell for this…”

“So then stop,” the sound of your small voice beckoned his gaze to find your own, “if you don’t want me the way that I want you,” your fingers tangled in his tie, “just stop and go back to bed with your wife…”

“…I didn’t–…” he hesitantly began, “I didn’t expect to meet someone like you, especially not right after I’d gotten married,” his eyes stayed locked with your own, “I thought I’d finally figured it all out, and then there you were, all fresh-faced, sticking out like a sore thumb among all the suits…” the corner of his lips briefly twitched into a faint smile at the memory, “you turned my world upside down,” his fingers on the side of your face flexed gently as he uttered that declaration, “after you stopped working there, I–… I damn near almost quit myself… but then Peter brought back his new girl, and seeing you again, even if it was just a glimpse every once and a while, it was like I could breathe again.”

Blinking up at him, dizzy from his honied words, your fingers tangled in his tie, then tightened, and you tugged him far enough down for your lips to lock once again.

Swiftly, his feet began to absentmindedly shuffle till your hips bumped into the edge of the polished desk that stood in the middle of the office. The bundle of forgotten Christmas lights were still glowing on the floor by the ajar door as your boyfriend’s stepfather let his broad hands scoop down over your body and pluck you up to sit on the table.

It was the hold that you still had around the silky accessory knotted around his neck that caused him to slot in between your parted thighs, just a little tug was all it took for your knees to be needily grazing against his sides. Pulling on the tie, your lips didn’t stray from one another’s for but a moment as you undid the knot, let the fabric slip out from under his collar and tumble down onto the floor below.

Though when his smouldering touches finally came to ignite against the softness of your tits through your sweater, a whimper tumbled out of your lungs and melted against his tongue, only narrowly getting muffled by his kiss as the sound threatened to fill up the entire room.

“Shh,” he barely withdrew to hush, only tilted his head to catch a different angle before he dove back into your sweetness.

“Sorry,” your murmur swiftly got swallowed by his pecks.

But when his hands continued to rake across your form, making you feel like a flicking star that shot across the night sky, as his grip came down to dent your ass, it wasn’t just a soft whine that crawled up your throat, but a full on moan, as the manner he’d squeezed your curve had sent a tingling bolt straight to your throbbing clit.

“You gotta be quiet.”

“Shit,” you cursed as you heard it yourself, “sorry, sorry.”

This time you truly did try to keep your mouth shut, consciously biting your tongue as his burning hands nearly singed the clothes from your frame, but when his palm eventually snuck up the short hem of your skirt and slipped off the soaked panties that clung to your core, the sound that forced its way out of your body when his touch finally grazed through your dripping folds echoed into the night.

And as soon as the moan tumbled off your lips, Bucky’s hand rapidly vanished from between your quaking thighs as he took a large step back.

“You’re killing me here,” he groaned as he reached the opposite side of the room to plant his inked palm against the open door, shutting it as he leaned his weight into it, “you’ll wake up the whole house,” the fingers still clutching your underwear caught the lock and flicked it to the side.

“I’m sorry,” you dug your nails into the polished wood you were balanced on, “I swear I’m trying to be quiet, I really am.”

“Well, not good enough,” he glanced back over his shoulder at where you sat before his vision flickered down to land upon the ribbon only half tied around the last of the presents you’d wrapped. His expression then softened as he slowly picked his stride up once more, “…but, I think I might be able to help…” on his way to where you were seated, he bent down to snatch up the loose strand still not fastened around the wrapped box, and when he stood before you once again, Bucky’s gaze fluttered to your mouth as he then uttered, “open up,” before you parted your lips for him. Your eyes swiftly grew as he first fed you the cotton of your panties before he wrapped the emerald silk ribbon around the stuffed opening and tied it off at the back of your head, “there,” he purred as he pulled on the small bow at the nape of your neck, “that’ll shut you up. Now where were we? Right! It was somewhere around here,” his word was emphasised by his touch as it slipped back up under your skirt, though this time when the broad pads of his fingers slipped through your glistening petals, your purrs were completely muffled against the makeshift gag.

As his touch tickled at your core and caused your legs to quiver at either side of him, his face stayed close to your own, nose denting your hot cheek as his breath fanned against your skin. He even stayed that close as he began to strip you of your clothing, tossing it all to the floor till you were sitting before him wearing nothing but the bow he’d tied himself to keep you quiet.

Though as you shifted to mirror his actions, he stopped you just as you caught onto the zipper of his pants.

“Na-ah-ah, kid,” he backed up just enough for the palpable tent in his trousers to disappear from your palm’s reach, “keep your hands to yourself. Be good, and then you’ll get your present.”

However, his whispered warning didn’t sink into your senses enough as barely any time passed before you stopped fighting the urge to touch him again.

“What,” his chuckle washed over you as he captured your gaze, “don’t tell me you need to be tied up too?”

That notion sent a shiver down your spine before a smile poked out behind your gag as you playfully shrugged, your apparent approval causing Bucky’s light laugh to reappear in a second wave.

Spinning around, the older man before you then grabbed the cord of glowing lights on the floor before stringing it along to where you were planted. First, he wrapped the vibrant strand of tiny bulbs around your wrists, tying them together in front of your body, before he tangled the remainder of the length around your torso, over your arms and all the way down to your waist.

As he took a step back to admire his handiwork, that’s when he finally freed his dick, letting it spring forth from his pants as his stare licked up your bound visage. The strokes he swiftly offered himself were long and slow, making you press your thighs together as you watched, a yearnful whine vibrating against the cotton stuffing up your mouth.

“Aw, do you want my cock?” he mocked as your constricted fingers instinctively tried to reach out for him. Closing the gap between you once again, with one hand, he scooped you closer to both the edge as well as the throbbing girth heavy in his palm, “you want this dick, huh?” he smirked before brushing the bulbous head through the drooling mess between your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered as he nuzzled his hardness against your buzzing clit, though he somehow kept your stare captured in the intenseness of his own as he dragged the tip through your petals, making them part for him. It seemed like ages that he went between teasing your leaky entrance to sweeping up and flicking at your puffy pearl, though gradually each time he’d near your little hole, crying out for him to sink into, he dipped inside just a tiny bit, each time granting you more of his length till his heavy balls were nuzzled against your slick skin.

His lips pressed against your cheek, kissing it softly as his girth split you open. A slick symphony echoed throughout the room each time his hips slammed against your own, and as your own cries were hushed, it was only the sinful sound of that, as well as Mr Barnes’ heavy breath and the occasional suppressed groans, that filled the office and lulled you into nothing short of a trance.

With Bucky’s left hand that he had weaved into a clutch at the twinkle lights tangled at your front, the colourful glow illuminated the dark tattoos that marked up the back of it and caught your hazy gaze as he then tipped you over and layed you back down against the desk, his ruthless rhythm never faulting for a second.

And as you layed there before him, the both of you creeping ever near to that inevitable end, you watched as his eyes drifted down your frame. From where the string of lights squished against the softness of your boobs, to where he spread your thighs apart further, letting him spot just how perfectly his fat girth sank into you, till finally settling on the dull bulge just above your glistening pussy. The imprint of his daunting size rocking within you, illuminated just sufficiently enough by the string of glimmering lights for his eyes to spot, bloomed a bright grin on his features and caused his hips to snap, feverously slamming his cock so deep inside of you that the tightly wound coil within you had no other choice but just to let go in a burst of vibrant hues.

Once his length was throbbing inside of you and pumping you full of his cum, breathlessly he removed the gag, though barely let you fill your lungs with air before he locked his lips against your own, both of your smiles blurring the kiss with giggles as you made out sweetly.

As Peter’s figure appeared behind you in the doorway to the little bathroom that shot off his room, his frame abrupted the bright morning light that streamed in through the window.

Still only clad in a borrowed shirt, the hem rose up as you bent down over the sink to spit out the toothpaste foaming in your mouth, but just as you did, a quiet click revealed your boyfriend’s presence behind you.

Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted the Polaroid camera, that you’d remembered to bring from your dorm room, firm in his grasp.

“What are you doing?” you muttered as you rinsed off your toothbrush.

“Just growing my collection,” he smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he wafted the small photo the camera had spit out.

“Hey, I brought that for capturing memories,” you snatched it back as you passed him, “not using all the film for nudes,” before bending down and stuffing it back into your bag.

The lump of guilt that ached in your chest nearly persuaded you to spill everything to Peter long before you both got dressed and descended the stairs.

Should you even tell him what had happened and hope for the best or had you just backed yourself into a corner so impossible that you had no other choice but to break things off with him? If that truly was so, then you couldn’t do it yet, not now, at least wait until January if that was the only option.

Though as soon as you both entered the kitchen, the visage of Bucky fiddling with the coffee machine caused the unbearable knot to slowly melt away the longer that you gazed at him.

“Hi Honey,” Peter’s mother came sauntering in from the dining room and flashed her son a smile before diving into a drawer for some cutlery on her mission to set up the breakfast table, “did you two sleep well last night?”

“Yeah, I was out like a light,” your boyfriend uttered before his glance flickered to you, “this one however didn’t come to bed till really late.”

“Oh, did you have trouble falling asleep?” his mom found your eye.

“Uhm, no,” your glance momentarily flickered to the broad back before the coffee machine, “I just–, uh, I was wrapping presents. Hope it’s okay that I borrowed some paper and stuff.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “if you want a caffeine boost, there’s a fresh pot of coffee,” and nodded in the direction of her husband, “and the mugs are up there.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m actually more of a tea drinker.”

“Well, we have some of that as well,” she tilted her head before crossing into the dining room once again, “take a look in the pantry.”

Slipping down the narrow path between the central kitchen island and the line of counters, your body brushed against Bucky’s as you passed before crossing into the small storage room. Though as your gaze scanned the stocked shelves before you, a crinkle found your brow.

“Wait, where is it?” your quiet voice seeped out of the pantry.

“Up over the shelf where the cans are,” Peter tried to guide you before his stepfather shot him a glance.

“I’ll help,” he murmured, “she’s probably too short to reach it anyway.”

You didn’t even have to peek over your shoulder to find out he was there as just the warmth of his presence radiating off of him was enough to cause your eyes to flutter closed and your lungs to be filled with a deep breath. Though when he pressed his wide frame against your spine, his low exhale seeping into your soul, a dull throb between your thighs bloomed as an underlying beat to his palms he then let glide over your waist before one shot up to tilt your chin and he craned his neck to plant a kiss to your lips.

“Did you find it?” Peter’s voice from on the other side of the thin wall caused you to fumble away from his stepdad, nearly knocking over half the contents on one of the shelves at the jolt.

“Yep! Yeah!” you squeaked, scrambling before Bucky reached above you, plucked a small box off a shelf, and placed the random tea in your fumbling hands, “I’ve–, uhm, yeah!” before you shuffled back out into the kitchen, “water, water…” you murmured as your eyes scanned the space.

“Over there,” your boyfriend nodded to the electric kettle in the corner before he carried the stack of plates in his hands into the dining room.

And as you boiled the water and brewed the tea, every chance Mr Barnes got to follow his heart, he grasped with both of his fists. If the others had momentarily stepped out of the room, or even if they’d just turned to face away, there he was at your side, suddenly much closer than what was appropriate for a parental figure of one’s partner to be. If he had the time, his touch would sneak down to tickle you over your clothes, or occasionally his lips would even find your neck and make you too dizzy to even care how risky his behaviour was.

It even continued long after you’d joined the rest at the dining table as the last two seats remaining were slotted right next to one another, though this time, now that he had the table as a cover, the cocky bastard let his hand grow even more daring than before.

When his touch teasingly travelled up your thigh before boldly darting straight to his goal and making you nearly choke on your herbal tea as he pressed down on the seam of your jeans, rubbing your throbbing clit through the rough fabric.

“Are you alright?” Peter’s mother cut off what she’d been blabbering about as you almost spit out the hot beverage.

“Mhm,” you hastily nodded, attempting to keep a straight face as Bucky’s inked fingers kept up their bullying between your thighs, “just burned my tongue,” the mug met the table in a soft thunk, “I’m fine,” you breathed shakily and kept your gaze glued to the piece of toast on the plate before you.

“Oh, well, blow on it next time,” she said before returning to the topic the secrets beneath the breakfast table had interrupted, “so, what do we think,” she sank her fork into a piece of orange, “should we head off to the Christmas market today or do that a different day?”

The scent of warm spices wafted through the air from the cluster of booths, selling every scrumptious festive treat imaginable, right next to the windy entrance to a pen where children could ride some sturdy ponies from a local farm.

“What if we all split up for a while?” Peter’s mother suggested as you all eyed the handcrafted goods displayed by the many snow-dusted stalls, “I know I may or may not have already spotted a few things I wanna buy in secret.”

“Good idea,” your boyfriend nodded as he let go of your mitten-clad hand, “should we meet back here in, what–, half an hour?” he gestured up to the grand Christmas tree, glowing in the centre of the market.

“Sure,” Bucky’s voice rumbled, “then we can grab a bite afterwards.”

His stolen touches hadn’t become less bold after you’d left the house. From purposefully letting his palm graze against your boob when he’d helped you reach for your seatbelt in the car, to the numerous times at the market he’d yanked you around the corner of a rustic booth to steal a kiss.

“You know,” Bucky’s voice suddenly tickled the shell of your ear as he found you standing before the line of small children, all waiting for a chance to meet the market’s Santa, “when I get you alone,” he whispered as your eyes lingered on the elderly man in the distance, all clad in red, “you can sit down on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas…”

“Oh yeah?” the corners of your lips tipped up into a smile, “will you also ask me if I’ve been naughty or nice?”

“Well, I already know the answer to that,” he chuckled before twisting you around to face him.

The gentle giggle that billowed out from your lungs was swiftly silenced as the older man bent down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Wait,” you suddenly pushed him back as the exposed nature of where you stood sank in, “not here,” and your eyes swiftly darted around the crowd in hopes that they wouldn’t land on anyone you knew, “someone might see.”

Snatching up his hand, you then tugged him with you as you crossed over the small square. Passing by a small ice-skating rink, your snow-crunching steps eventually led you into the maze-like wonder that was the Christmas tree lot.

Soon, the make-out that blossomed between the dense pines snowballed into you on your knees, on the cold and needle-covered ground, with Bucky’s girth twitching in your grasp as you tilted your head to plant a sloppy trail of pecks down his heavy balls.

If he hadn’t riled you up all morning, then you probably wouldn’t have desperately kneeled down before him in the middle of a crowded space, just because he’d made your brain melt so fiercely that your mouth itched to be used. That or perhaps you would still have found your way here on your own if he hadn’t given you a push, after all, it had been you who had simply told him to be on lookout before you snatched off one mitten, sank down in front of him and, without any further warning, freed his fat cock.

As you let go of his sack with a pop, before you could crane back up to swallow his length, Bucky briefly bent down to steal a sloppy kiss before letting you get back to it, though when he broke the peck, a string of saliva keeping you connected a moment as he straightened back up, a soft frown tainted your features as you blinked up at him.

“You stole all my spit,” you pouted as his lavish tongue had managed to lick up most of the gathered slickness you’d wished to glisten up his dick with.

“Sorry,” a soft chuckle rumbled within his broad chest as he bowed down to grasp your chin. Prying your lips apart, he then let a dollop of his own saliva drop down and land upon your silky tongue.

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as they wrapped around his thick girth. Marvelling up at him as you found a playful pace, he only granted himself a rare peek between his neck twisting from side to side, vigilantly keeping an eye out as you sucked him off.

“Fuck,” he groaned as your drool gurgled up your bobbing. Lips ever parted, his fingers sneaked down to tangle themselves in your hair, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” he slowly brought your head back till only the tip stayed warm within your mouth, “though knowing you, you probably wouldn’t even pause if someone actually did wander this way,” a short hiss of pleasure flowed out of his lungs as your tongue silkily traced the bulbous head, “even if it was your little boyfriend, you’d probably just yank down his fly so you could choke on his cock as well…”

Squinting up at the dried orange slices strung up and decorating the living room window, you let out a contemplating hum before it morphed into an idea, “we could watch a movie?”

“Ah,” Peter exhaled next to you on the couch, “I don’t know… what if we went for a walk? It just stopped snowing.”

“No, I don’t really have the energy left for that,” you shrugged, “plus it’ll be dark soon… I kinda just wanna take it easy the rest of today and eat as many of those cookies your mom’s baking while they’re still hot.”

Glancing over his shoulder at the doorway leading into the kitchen, Peter then nodded, “alright, sure. We could put on some music or something.”

“Uh!” an idea then stuck you and lit up your gaze, “and we could play a board game, or even better, do a jigsaw puzzle! Do you think you have one?” your body tilted a bit closer, “you have one, right?”

“I think we have more than one,” he cocked his head and got up from the couch, “how hard do you want it?”

“Pretty hard, but also not like impossible,” you breathed, “it would be nice if we finished it before the new year.”

“Alright, I’ll go find one,” his feet began to drag across the hardwood floor, “you go gather provisions. I think I just heard the timer in the kitchen go off.”

A gasp swiftly flowed out of you as you rushed to rise to your feet, “cookies!” before you darted along, leaving Peter to a soft chuckle as he went out into the entryway and popped open the large closet.

Though as he slipped inside and shifted to switch on the lightbulb dangling above, near the top shelf that carried all of the games, his elbow collided with a few of the coats on the row of hangings off to the side, unfortunately knocking some of them to the ground. Among the casualties were both yours as well as Bucky’s, though when the jackets came tumbling down, a few items also came pouring out of the pockets.

Glancing down at the polaroids at his feet, even though the backsides were staring up at him, Peter still assumed that they’d fallen out of your pocket. Plucking them up into his grasp, a smirk swiftly curved his lips as he flipped over the short stack to reveal the familiar visage of your nude form. And the deeper into the small pile he got, the more explicit they became.

But when he reached one that captured you lying on your stomach and with your lips wrapped around a cock, the smile swiftly faded from his features as he caught sight of the hand that reached down from behind the camera to stroke your hair. His hand certainly didn’t have either a wedding ring nor a chillingly familiar tattooed pattern scrawled upon the skin.

And as he shuffled the deck to reveal the last photo, his suspicions were confirmed as he was confronted with the visage of his stepfather railing you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom. The camera was in his one hand as he held your hazy gaze in the mirror, while the other one curved around to capture your tit, the soft peak decorated in droplets as you stuck out your tongue and let your drool drip down.

And though confusion, rage and jealousy were the cocktail of emotions to first take over his body, the palpable tent in his jeans beckoned for his attention too and convinced him to take care of it, blindly pumping his dick till his load coated the photos in his palm.

“Fuck…” he hissed as his stare stayed glued to the cum covered pictures, “…I guess I’ll need to have a little talk with my stepdad…”

“The whole house all to ourselves… however shall we pass the time?”

Your giggle bounced off the kitchen tile as you hopped up to sit upon one of the counters, only moments after both Peter and his mother had driven off to do some last-minute holiday shopping.

Leaning back against the kitchen island, Bucky crossed his arms over his burly chest and smiled, “I have a feeling that we’ll think of something to do.”

And that was how you ended up moaning on either sides of the kitchen.

Though he only loosened his tie, popped open the first few buttons of his shirt and undid his belt to free his cock, you tore off everything except for the red lingerie your clothes unwrapped for him to see and led him to beg for the sheer mesh to stay clinging on your skin while you let your fingertips dip into the waistband.

But before either of you could finish, the older man snatched you off the counter and hauled you into the living room.

And as you both stood there, his arms around you keeping your dizzy form upright as he kissed you feverishly, his head then tilted back, a blooming smirk on his lips, before he uttered, “I have an idea…”

The idea in question involved his silky tie being secured over your eyes, a proposal you of course jumped at to outlive.

Though as you stood there, one of your senses dulled as Bucky’s touch fluttered across your form, the smattering of pecks and caresses had you floating away to some far-off realm. In the blissful fog of it all, you lost track of his touch and swore on occasion that it didn’t add up, as sporadic kisses were planted in places not plausible from where you thought he stood, or his wide hands even seemed as if they weren’t just one pair.

And as you tried to connect the dots, your fingers fluttered up to push the makeshift blindfold up to your forehead, and the visage that met your eyes promptly caused them to grow wide.

“Peter!” you gasped as you came face to face with not only Bucky, but also your boyfriend, “I–, I–”

“Hey babe,” he simply breathed as both his own and his stepfather’s touch faded from your half-naked form.

“Peter,” your heart hammered in your chest as tears began to blur your vision, “I am so so sorry. I–, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah? So you’re not sneaking around with my stepdad behind my back?” he kept your gaze captured in his, “baby, it’s–,” a sigh broke up his sentence, “I was about to say that it’s alright, but–,” a dry chuckle then bubbled out of his throat as it obviously wasn’t okay, before he then shook his head and got to the point, “we had a little chat, Bucky and I.”

“…you did?” you finally shifted your glance and let it flicker to Mr Barnes.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “we came up with a little arrangement so that we’d all get what we want.”

“So now all you gotta do is just tell the truth,” Peter’s fingers floated up to tug a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “did you just use me to get to him? Was anything about our relationship real?” he asked in a soft and sombre tone.

“It was, it is,” you swore as you raised up your own palm to graze over his that still lingers by your jaw, “I may have lied to you about certain things, but my feelings for you were never one of them.”

“Okay…” your boyfriend’s head slowly began to rock in a nod. As he let you lace your fingers in with his own, another question left his lips, “so, do you think that heart of yours is big enough for the both of us?”

Your vision then widened before it shifted between both of the men standing before you, “…are you suggesting–”

“Only if you want to,” Bucky tilted his head and awaited your answer.

“I–,” you gasped as a grin slowly grew upon your lips, “oh my god!” and an uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of you.

“Is that a yes?” Peter asked, his hand still in yours.

“Yes! Yes, of course, it is!” you beamed before throwing your arms around him and crashing your lips against his own, only moments before you shifted to mirror the action with the older man still by your other side.

And as the kiss you pressed to Bucky’s lips stretched and drew out, it suddenly broke when he abruptly tossed you down to lay across the plush couch behind you. As he slotted in between your parted thighs and clutched the red mesh to the side in order to finally grant himself some of the sugar you’d teased him with moments before, your head sloped over the armrest before Peter appeared above you and bent down to claim your lips in a kiss to muffle the whine that flowed from them just as his stepdad stretched your open.

Momentarily, Bucky plucked your hips up off the couch and drove them to meet his own, fucking you like a toy, before he let you drop back down and joined you on the sofa.

And as the older man between your thighs spread them wider and granted himself the perfect view of how his staggering girth disappeared in your fluttering pussy, your boyfriend above you slid a hand under your head and tilted it closer to the length throbbing in his fist.

Tapping his cock against your moan, it didn’t take long before he was buried in your mouth, each greedy thrust bringing him further down your throat till the imprint of his cock bulged in your neck.

“That’s impressive,” Bucky commented on the way the younger man fucked your face, “why haven’t you shown me that party trick yet?” he hummed as Peter roughly yanked his dick back out and granted you the chance to catch your breath.

Seizing the moment, Bucky flipped you around before your mouth could be filled once again, tossing you onto your knees and letting your forearms crash to the armrest, your head nearly falling face-first into Peter’s lap, lending him to catch you as he flashed the man behind you a grin, “you know that she does anal too, right?”

A low groan then flowed from Bucky’s lungs as he let his broad thumb sweep across your little rosebud, “does she now…”

“Yep,” Peter grunted proudly, “she might even let us fuck both of her pretty holes at once if we’re real nice. She’s let me do that before with toys.”

“Of course she has,” Bucky chuckled lowly as he eased his fat cock back inside, “what do you say, kid? It is Christmas after all, I think we deserve something special.”

“I–, uhm,” you tried your best to answer him through the ecstasy they tossed you into, “sure.”

“Attagirl,” Bucky croaked as his heavy balls tapped messily against your puffy pearl, “do you wanna pick who gets what honour?”

But before you could squeak out an answer, Peter instead uttered, “or we could make it a game, let you try and guess,” as his touch travelled up to tug at the blindfold still resting atop your brow.

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rain-element · 7 months ago

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Okay, so:

I decided to lock myself up and hand the keys to @maniacallaughter last night, and we haven't really set a specific time frame or date to unlock. I wanted to go for at least a few weeks, if not a month, but since both of us are super indecisive, I think I'm gonna start a game.

I shamelessly stole these rules from @hornystuckposting's post, but they go as follows:

+2hrs for each like

+4 hrs for each comment

+6 hrs for each reblog

+12hrs for each anon ask I get

+18hrs for each non-anon ask I get

+12hrs for every new follower from here until the end of this poll

I'm only counting all the notes this gets until the poll ends in one week, and I need to immediately do whatever the final results of the poll tell me.

#yes I know this is nearly a 1:1 of hornystuckposting's #but it seems so fun #I'm a little worried this won't get nearly as many notes tho

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littelovelunette · 5 days ago

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Sevika and reassurance? Like being with a needy partner who craves cuddles and reassurance 24/7 and even tho they wear the toughest exterior outside their safe space and being known for being so grounded and strong but behind closed doors only sevika can see how vulnerable and clingy they can get

I love your fics so much, i cant believe i haven’t seen your blog sooner i’ve been obsessed with ur fics for two weeks now and its always on point! Exactly what i need and its pretty impressive how fast you can write

Reassurance

Thank you so much, I always try to write whenever I have my free time and its a coping mechanism for me so I'm glad you all like the fics that I like. Thank you for taking the time to let me know that!! <33

Sevika noticed.

She always did. She wasn't dumb, of course she wasn't. She was one of the most observant women in all of Zaun and living the rough-and-tumble lifestyle that she did, she learnt to talk less and observe more.

You always were tough on the outside. Always. Never did you ever let your softer side show while you fought for Zaun alongside the other woman.

That's what made Sevika slowly start to gain interest in you. Although, she was emotionally guarded at first and a little shocked that she was falling for someone— she didn't let that stop her subtle gestures of affection.

She'd bring you flowers, coffee when you had to stay up late and held you close to herself when you both had midnight walking dates.

Sevika observed you for a while before she asked you to be her girlfriend which you happily agreed to, and she was mildly surprised when she saw you acting soft and sensitive when around her and her only.

Out in the public, you were fierce, undeterred by anything that happened to anyone.

You were absolutely unshakeable with a stubbornness equal to none.

But behind closed doors, you were her baby.

And you needed constant reassurance that you were hers and she was yours.

Sevika, although she barely told you it, loved this side of yours.

You were so head over heels for her and so obsessed with every little thing that she did. She was your emotional anchor and she knew it. She revelled in it.

Sevika was playing poker as per usual and you were by her side.

You were pouting, however, with your frame covered in her poncho as well— you had gotten drenched in the rain earlier and had probably caught a fever so Sevika insisted you stay wrapped up in the red cloth to keep your body warm while she quickly finished up her last round.

“I'd kill for cuddles right now.” You whispered to her as she took a sip of her alcohol.

“Wanna wrap this up and get going?” Sevika asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft considering she was just motherlessly degrading one of the men playing against her.

You nodded, face fixed with a small pout and Sevika didn't waste a moment, dropping the cards as she obviously won her last round.

“Wrap up, boys.”

You watched as Sevika finished and helped you up. You started walking out of the bar with her.

“You sure you'll be fine on your feet?” Sevika glanced down at your shivering frame.

“If we were at home, I'd let you toss me around and carry me however. I feel like Ima pass out.”

“Then let me.” Sevika insisted although she didn't look like she'd let you walk anymore. She was genuinely worried.

“There are people!” You whisper-yelled.

“And? Everyone knows we're a thing, it won't kill you if you let me carry you home.” Sevika reasoned, her voice a low grumble.

“Ah, forget it.”

And in the next moment, Sevika whipped you off your feet, carrying you bridal style with her, back to the shared apartment.

You sighed a little and would have told her off if you weren't this tired and drained already. Besides, she was definitely much stronger and bigger than you. It wouldn't have mattered even if you did protest.

Once you both got home, Sevika put you in bed and undressed so she was only in her tank top and shorts.

“Cuddles.” You said in a baby voice and extended your hands towards her.

“You're so clingy.” Sevika didn't mean any offense and you knew it. She loved how much you needed her every single day.

“But I love you like this.” Sevika added before she hugged you close to her own impressively big frame.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, cuddle bag.”

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guksfairy · 15 days ago

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YOUNG NIGHTS AND OLD HABITS | JJK

wc: 1.9k

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves !! I wasn’t going to post today but my faves had a comeback and I got some inspiration. Enjoy !

Though the skies were dark and the only things illuminating were city buildings, the night was still somewhat young.

You and your husband had just gotten home from your annual Valentine’s day dinner. Jungkook always does his best to take you to a new restaurant every year so as to enjoy the night like it’s your first date.

Truly, it was always a magical night. You remember your very first one back when you were still only dating in college.

Jungkook was nervous to ask you to spend the day with him given that you two had only been dating for about two weeks. But Valentine’s Day was for couples and you were dating, right?

Given that you two, at the time, were broke college students who spent most of their money on essentials and food, there was little money to splurge on the day.

Jungkook did his best though. He got some of his friends to set up a table and fairy lights on a private area on campus. Even got your cousin to help out and pretend to be the waitress at a fancy restaurant.

He spent most of his money on the decorations and the food and only failed to realize he had little to no money for your gift just 2 hours before the date.

He scrambled around his dorm trying to find any change, literally anything. Namjoon walked in on Jungkook flipping his mattress over and getting excited to see a coin.

“…you okay?” Namjoon slowly closed the door and startled Jungkook for a moment before he replied.

“Hyung I’m screwed. I spent almost all my money on the lights, flowers, and food that I completely forgot to buy Y/N a gift,” Jungkook placed his mattress gently back onto the bed frame and threw himself on it.

“Woah. How’d you forget something that important,” the older chuckled and threw his backpack on the floor without a care in the world.

“Screwing up our first Valentine’s Day together isn’t what I was going for,” Jungkook huffs and Namjoon feels for him.

If he had a girlfriend and didn’t get her anything he’d probably stress too.

“What if you make her something?”

“Joon I’m shit at crafts. Remember when I had to make that 3D exoplanet system for Dr.Yoon’s class. It was basically falling apart as I walked to class with it,” Jungkook recalls placing his model next to your perfectly built one and you telling him it looked great.

He knew you were trying to make him feel better. It only made him like you more.

“So go for something simple,”

“Like?” Jungkook asks for suggestions and an idea immediately pops into Namjoon’s head.

“Do you recall back in high school when Mr.Jung would make us start our mornings writing letters to our past and future selves?” Jungkook wasn’t sure where Namjoon was going with this but he still nodded.

“Write her a love letter,”

That’s…not a terrible idea. It’s better than nothing.

Jungkook quickly scrambles from his bed, grabbing his school backpack and taking out a piece of paper and pens.

After about an entire hour of just writing and rewriting his feelings for you, he was done. He felt accomplished and a little shy. What if he was too vulnerable and you thought it was weird? What if you thought a letter was a cheap gift? What if you thought he got lazy??

The time was 7:45 and Jungkook didn’t have much time to overthink it. He folded the letter before putting it in an envelope and sealing it with clear tape.

He got dressed and received a text from his friends telling him that everything was set up and ready to go. All Jungkook had to do was pick you up from your dorm and walk to the designated spot.

With one last look in the mirror and a thumbs up from Namjoon, Jungkook grabs the letter on the desk and places it in his pocket for safe keeping.

He walked across campus to your dorm and felt like he fell in love with you all over again. You were wearing light makeup and something simple but to Jungkook, you looked so gorgeous. Jungkook was sure no other human being in the world held a candle to your beauty.

You exchanged a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking with Jungkook as he lead you both to your little date.

You remembered how you felt seeing the scene for the first time. It was, again, simple but it was so sweet. You almost felt like tearing up.

The night was filled with tons of laughter and hand holding across the table as your cousin served entrees and main courses from the Italian restaurant off campus that you mentioned to Jungkook you loved.

Finally the night was coming to an end and now it was just the two of you. You watched Jungkook squirm around his seat for a moment before placing your hand on top of his to watch him visibly relax.

“Everything okay?”

“Uh…I have to confess something,” you hear Jungkook’s voice lower in volume but allow him to continue, “I didn’t get you a present-I know! I’m sorry it’s just that I spent so much time thinking about this date that it slipped my mind. But I made you something,” Jungkook grabbed the envelope from his pocket and placed it directly in the middle of the table.

He watched you stare at the paper for a moment and thought he fucked up. You didn’t move to grab it.

You hated it. You probably think he doesn’t even like y-

“Jungkook,” your voice just above a whisper takes him out of his insecure trance.

“You’re not going to believe this,” you reach inside your shirt and visibly into your bra before slipping out a paper of your own. Jungkook tries to ignore his flushed state as he watches you place yours on top of his.

“I wrote you a love letter,”

Soulmates. Jungkook was going to marry you. This was no coincidence. This was fate.

That night, you and Jungkook quietly read your letters in front of each other and shared your first kiss as a couple. You still remember how hard you two were smiling and simply couldn’t stop. The night was finished with love affirmations and lots of physical touches.

Similar to tonight.

You closed the curtains to you and Jungkook’s shared penthouse and watched the view of the city slowly disappear behind the cloth.

“What time is it?” You hear Jungkook walk behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

“11:40?” You assume. It was rather late when you left the restaurant so you wouldn’t be too far off. Jungkook hums in acknowledgment and rests his chin on your shoulder, slowly closing his eyes.

He was a bit tired from tonight and you rocked him and yourself in a gentle rhythm.

“That waiter definitely had a crush on you,” Jungkook mumbled and you laughed.

“Jungkook I thought we said we’d stop talking about that kid,” you giggle as you reply thinking back to the young waiter that wouldn’t stop prioritizing you over your husband’s requests. At one point he served you wine and completely forgot about Jungkook’s glass.

“I don’t blame him though. You looked beautiful tonight,” Jungkook kissed your exposed shoulder and lets go before walking away.

“I have one more present for you honey,” Jungkook says picking through his blazer that he took off earlier.

“Jungkook. The necklace was enough,” you say touching the expensive piece of jewelry hanging around your neck.

“This might be worth more,” Jungkook finally finds it and slips it out.

It’s an envelope decorated with hand drawn hearts around and you know what it is. A tradition you’ve carried for the last 7 years. Love letters every Valentine’s Day.

He holds out the item for you to take and a smile and blush reach your face. Like second nature you reach into your bra and grab the neatly folded paper.

And like clockwork, your husband flushes up like he does every year. How cute.

You exchange letters and he holds your waist to lead you both to the living room. The environment was quiet in a peaceful and comforting manner.

You take a seat and Jungkook dims the lights a little before turning on the fire place. Finally taking the seat next to you.

You smile at each other one more time before opening your individual letters and you begin to read.

To my loving Wife and Soulmate,

Do you understand, that every single time that I see you, it feels like gravity shifts. You, my love, are the center of my universe. You’ve turned such ordinary and dull moments into supernovas of pure bliss and joy. I’m endlessly grateful for every orbit we’ve shared and will continue to share.

You’re the song that’s stuck in my head, the breath of air I didn’t know I was holding, the warmth in my favorite cup of coffee, and the reason for my happiness. You are my everything.

You are the last person that I think of before falling into sweet sleep where I dream of our life and how much better it gets by the day. Every time I hold your hand, it’s my unspoken promise to never let go. To always stay by your side.

I don’t just love you, I’m rooted in you. And I swear to choose you across every lifetime, every star, and every moment.

My sweet Y/N, I love you.

Yours, forever and always, Jeon Jungkook.

By the time you finish reading the letter you’ve already let a tear drop on the paper. Jungkook shares the same expression as he turns to face you with glossy eyes and nothing but love for you.

He grabs a hold of you and places you directly on his lap.

“Are you aware of how in love with you I am?” his question is rhetorical but you still answer it.

“I have a good idea,” you smile at your husband and lean in for a gentle and innocent kiss. Your hand placed on his shoulder. It’s adorned with your wedding ring. A memory of the happiest day of your life.

The day you became Jeon Y/N.

You recall how much your friends, who had already been married for a while, had told you that the love would fade and eventually it’s like living with a roommate.

You like to think they just didn’t marry their soulmate. Because every moment you spent with Jungkook, you spent it feeling alive and happy to be in the moment.

And you couldn’t wait to tell him the last good news of the night.

There will be a third addition to the Jeon family in nine months. Something you and Jungkook had been talking about for so long. Something you knew he was hoping for.

So when the clock hits 11:58, Jungkook is in tears, holding you with so much security.

He truly knows he won the lottery with you.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc

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delulustateofmind · 2 months ago

Text

Get Ghost'd!

Sum: So you ghosted a guy that like really, really likes you, what could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Choso

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Drugging, Stalking, Obsession, Kidnapping, Trapping, Manipulation) Slight wholesome fluff? Older woman (5-10 years) x Gojo, Noncon smooches (Gojo), The girls are around 7 in this so young cult leader geto (Not as deranged yet but getting there), Choso's is more crack (Todo is mentioned)

WC: 6.1K

A/N: I was just only going to do Geto...but then I thought about all the other JJK characters that would just go so crazy if you just ignored them. No Nanami, because he's a good man and would respect it if you ignored him.

Bold of you to assume you could just ghost the strongest-

Gojo Satoru had left his number for you.

He didn’t usually do that sort of thing—relationships were messy, and he simply didn’t have the time. Not with the weight of his responsibilities and the constant demands on his talent.

But then there was you, Megumi’s sweet next-door neighbor. The one who went out of your way to drop off food for the kids, who somehow managed to fold their laundry just the way they liked it. How could he not leave his number?

After all, he was the brat’s caretaker now, their benefactor. And, well, he could be your benefactor too, if you asked. Not even nicely—he’d do it if you so much as batted those pretty eyelashes at him and gave him one of those soft, shy smiles.

So why hadn’t you texted?

You had the time to make food for the kids. You had the time to do their laundry. But not even a reply for him? Not even a polite “Please don’t contact me”?

He tried to let it slide. Maybe you were nervous, unsure how to handle someone like him. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. But the more he thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the sting of your silence.

He wasn’t unreasonable—he understood the age gap might make you hesitate. He was freshly twenty, probably a few years younger than you. But honestly? That should work in his favor. How often does a hot, young stud go out of his way for someone like you?

You should be relishing in his attention. Cherishing the fact that he’d chosen you. Because let’s face it—you weren’t getting any younger. You should really consider settling for him.

No—scratch that. You should be grateful.

And yet, here you were, acting like he didn’t exist.

The knock on your door came late, almost too late for it to be anything casual. The soft thud echoed through your small apartment, catching you mid-step as you were putting away the last of the laundry.

When you opened the door, you weren’t prepared for the sight of him.

Gojo Satoru stood there, tall and imposing, framed by the dim glow of the hallway light. His white hair caught the faint light, tousled in that effortlessly perfect way. His signature round glasses perched low on his nose, revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow, unblinking, as they locked onto yours.

His hands were stuffed casually into his pockets, his lean frame relaxed, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his easygoing facade.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice as light as ever, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You’ve been busy, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden appearance. “Gojo? What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face, his impossibly white teeth gleaming. “Satoru,” he corrected. “I think we’re close enough for that, don’t you?”

You faltered, searching for a polite response, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“Not even a little text?” he continued, stepping just a fraction closer. “I left my number, you know. Thought it was pretty obvious I wanted to hear from you.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the doorway felt between you. “I’m sorry—I’ve been really busy with work and helping out with Megumi and—”

He laughed, cutting you off. It was light, almost playful, but there was something unsettling about it. “Oh, I know. You’ve been making food for the kids, doing their laundry, running yourself ragged for them. But for me?” He leaned in slightly, his height forcing you to crane your neck to meet his gaze. “Not even a second of your time?”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he said, voice soft but dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. “I get it. Maybe you’re nervous. Maybe you think I’m too young, or you’re just not sure what to say to someone like me.” His grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re not avoiding me, are you?”

The way he said it made your pulse quicken.

“N-no, of course not,” you stammered, taking an instinctive step back.

“Good,” he said smoothly, taking a step forward as if he belonged inside your space. “Because I’d hate for there to be any misunderstandings between us. I mean, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

His gaze flicked over your shoulder at the neatly folded laundry behind you, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “All this running around for the kids? It’s sweet, really. But you should be taking better care of yourself, too.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his presence pressing in on you. “I… I’m fine, really. I just—”

“Just need someone to help you out,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to something softer, almost coaxing. “You do so much for everyone else. Don’t you think you deserve someone to take care of you for a change?”

There was a strange intensity in his gaze now, an undercurrent of something far more dangerous than his usual teasing charm.

“Satoru, I—”

“I could do that, you know,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingered, his long fingers trailing along your jaw just enough to make your skin crawl. “Take care of everything. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“Actually,” he cut in, his tone suddenly shifting, “I’ve been thinking. This arrangement? You here, me over there with the brats—it doesn’t make sense.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He gave you a boyish grin, as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world. “We should live together.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. “W-what?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping past you into your apartment without so much as a glance for permission. His long legs carried him casually across the room, but the tension in his movements was unmistakable. His sharp gaze darted over your space, the faint scowl on his face deepening as if your cozy apartment wasn’t quite up to his standards.

“You’re already taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki half the time,” he began, spinning around to face you, his white hair catching the dim light. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, their intensity almost too much. “And my life? Well, let’s just say it’s dangerous.”

“Satoru, I don’t—”

“You’d be safer with me,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now, the usual playful lilt missing entirely. “And the kids, too. We’d be one big happy family. You wouldn’t have to worry about bills or working yourself to the bone anymore—I’d handle everything.”

He said it like he was doing you a favor. Like it was something you should have already agreed to without hesitation.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you managed, your voice shaking slightly.

His expression twisted, the easygoing mask slipping entirely as frustration bled into his tone. “Why not? It makes perfect sense!” he snapped, his arms spreading wide in a gesture of exasperation. “You’re already basically living this life anyway, aren’t you? Cooking, cleaning, running yourself ragged for them. But when it comes to me? Nothing. Not a single second of your time!”

His words hit like a slap, the bitterness in his voice leaving you momentarily stunned.

“I didn’t ask for that,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Well, maybe you should have!” he retorted, his lips pulling into a sharp, mocking grin. “You’re fine on your own, huh? Sure, because that’s working so well for you. You think you’re being independent, but all I see is someone too stubborn to accept help—even when it’s standing right in front of you!”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his anger pressing down on you.

He laughed then, but it was humorless, the sound cutting through the air like broken glass. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? You run around helping everyone else, but you can’t even give me a second of your attention. What’s the matter, huh? Am I not good enough for you?”

“Satoru, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he interrupted, stepping closer, his height towering over you as his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You want to talk about fair? I’m offering you everything—safety, security, a life, and you’re standing here acting like I’m some stranger asking for a handout!”

His words stung, his frustration bubbling over into something meaner, something sharper.

“I’m fine on my own,” you insisted again, though your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“No, you’re not,” he spat, his tone venomous now. “You’re delusional if you think you are. You’re just making excuses because you’re too scared to admit you need me.” He shook his head, his grin returning, bitter and condescending. “But that’s okay. I’ll fix that for you.”

Before you could respond, his hands shot up to cup your face, his long fingers curling just enough to hold you in place. His grip was firm, unrelenting, as his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

“Stop overthinking it,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, though his words felt more like a command than reassurance. “You’re wasting time. I know what’s best for you. And it’s me.”

You barely had time to gasp before his lips crashed against yours. The kiss wasn’t tender or affectionate—it was rough, forceful, and far too intense. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, cutting into the dryness of them causing a ting of blood to pool at the skin, the pressure somewhere between biting and bruising, as if he were marking you rather than kissing you.

Your hands flew up instinctively to push against his chest, but he didn’t budge. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip like iron. Every movement was desperate, consuming, and entirely unyielding.

“Satoru, stop,” you tried to mumble against his mouth, but he swallowed the words with another bruising kiss. It felt suffocating, as if he were trying to imprint himself on you—erase any thought of resistance.

When he finally pulled back, your lips felt swollen and raw, your breath coming in shallow gasps. But the worst part wasn’t the kiss itself—it was the look in his eyes.

They were bright, almost gleaming with satisfaction, but there was something beneath the surface.

He licked his lips, his smirk widening as he took in your dazed expression. “See?” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re already mine. You just don’t realize it yet.”

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to step back, but his hands were still on your waist, holding you in place.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he continued, his tone almost soothing now, though it carried an eerie finality. “You’ll see. This is what’s best. For you. For the kids. For all of us.”

His grip loosened just enough for you to pull away, but as you stumbled back, his eyes stayed locked on you, sharp and unrelenting.

“And don’t even think about running,” he added, his voice soft but chilling. “You won’t get far. I’ll make sure of it.”

Because Gojo Satoru didn’t lose. And you weren’t going anywhere.

I think I may have just ghosted a cult leader, how fucked am I?

Geto Suguru sat in his living room, legs tucked beneath the kotatsu table, where the twins lay watching Ponyo for what felt like the hundredth time today. The familiar opera intro played, but he barely noticed it, he had lost count of how many times he'd have to endure it. His sleek, dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, the ends brushing the fabric of his yukata, and a faint shadow from his sharp cheekbones danced across his face in the flickering light.

The DVD would end up in the highest cabinet soon, stored away with the Sailor Moon box set. Only to pretend later on that he has no idea of where the discs went, that the twins should really take better care of their things.

His tea sat untouched on the table, long gone cold as he stared at his phone. Three days since you’d last messaged him. Four since he’d seen you. His dark eyes, always so calculating and composed, narrowed slightly as he swiped through the unread threads of his polite but unanswered messages. He told himself it was fine, that you were busy, but the creeping unease in his chest said otherwise.

Being ignored was new to him, something he hadn’t experienced in years. Women had always sought him out, drawn by the quiet intensity of his gaze, the sharp elegance of his jawline, and the magnetic calm that seemed to follow him like a shadow. They threw themselves at him, eager for a glance, a touch, a word.

But you? You were different. Sweet, shy, and delicate. A part of him had loved that about you. Now it gnawed at him.

Had you used him?

The thought was intrusive, bitter, but it refused to leave. He’d erased your debt, lifted the curse that had plagued you, welcomed you into his home—and into his life. He’d done it all for you, because your smile had been enough. The way it softened your features and brightened your eyes—he couldn’t forget it. You made the darkness in his world feel lighter.

But maybe it wasn’t enough for you.

Maybe you’d only stayed because you owed him. Maybe, now that you were free, you saw no reason to stay.

His hands tightened into fists, the phone shaking slightly in his grasp.

Staring at his phone, he reread the messages he’d sent you over the past few days:

"Hope you got home safe." "The snow’s falling. The girls have been asking when you’ll come over for hot cocoa." "Good morning. Please eat well." "Did you drink water today?"

What he wanted to send was, "Was the kiss too much?"

But every time he typed it out, his thumb hovered over the send button before deleting it. He’d even tried adding an emoji once, only to groan in frustration. Giving up, he reached for the twins, pulling them into a big hug. Their squeals of delight momentarily distracted him as he tickled their sides before letting them go. They returned to their movie, leaving him on the floor, still staring at his phone.

Why did you look at him with those wide, innocent eyes when he cradled your cheek and kissed you goodbye? Why did you press your warm hands against his chest, trembling as you murmured, “We shouldn’t”?

We definitely should, was all he wanted to say.

He had wanted to kiss you ever since that day you ended up babysitting the girls in his apartment. The kitchen was filled with laughter as Nanako sat on the counter, mixing a bowl of cupcake batter, while Mimiko dozed in your arms. You worked together to bake cookies, the domestic scene so painfully perfect it left an impression he couldn’t shake.

You’d cook for him on nights when he came home late, too busy with cult duties to eat. Sometimes you’d bring a spoon to his lips, letting him taste-test your dishes, though they never needed anything. They were always perfect—just like you.

You should have stayed.

You should have realized how much he needed you, how much the girls needed you.

And yet, deep down, he knew why you might not.

You were a non-sorcerer.

The thought of it, the implications of it, only deepened his frustration. How could you fit into his new world—a world built to eliminate people like you? People who didn’t understand the true horrors of jujutsu, who were blind to the curses lurking in the shadows. His grand plan, his vision for a better, cleaner world, was supposed to make everything simpler. Sorcerers would rule, and the weak would fall away.

But you…

You were the exception.

Suguru hated that about himself, hated that he would allow one tiny thread to unravel the tapestry he’d been weaving. You didn’t belong in the world he was building, yet you were the one piece he couldn’t let go of.

How could he protect you in a world where the strong would reign? Where weakness—your weakness—would be punished?

The memory of your laugh cut through the haze of his thoughts. It had been so genuine, so sweet, so human. You didn’t belong in his plans, and yet you did. You had to.

Because without you, his grand vision felt hollow. Without you, there was only emptiness.

His jaw clenched as the realization solidified. You didn’t understand it yet, but he was doing this for you. For the girls. For all of them. But mostly, for himself.

He would protect you from the world he was creating. No one would touch you. No one would harm you. You’d live in safety, as his. His alone.

The phone screen lit up, mocking him with your silence. He could see when you read his messages. That was the cruelest part. You weren’t gone. You were ignoring him.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the smooth planes of his features momentarily obscured as he exhaled through gritted teeth. Maybe he’d been too soft with you. Maybe you thought you could just walk away now that the curse was gone, now that you didn’t owe him anything.

But you were wrong. You owed him everything.

The girls needed a mother. He needed you. The thought of you living a life without him, smiling for someone else, was unbearable. His lips twisted into a bitter smile as he typed out another message.

"The girls miss you.""I miss you."

Suguru’s thumb hovered over the send button, his jaw tightening as he debated. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he erased the message. Words wouldn’t be enough. Not anymore.

You needed a reminder.

He picked up his phone again, this time dialing. His assistant, Manami, answered on the second ring, her tone eager—too eager, though he ignored it. Manami had always looked at him in a way that suggested she wanted more than her job description entailed. A part of him in the past would humor the affection. Yet, now he has you. .

“I need you to watch the girls,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll be out for a while, picking up a... gift for them.”

Manami didn’t question him, though her tone softened, as though she thought he was doing something noble. If only she knew.

As he ended the call, his gaze shifted to the cult’s records, neatly organized and as precise as always. He was thankful for the meticulous documentation; it gave him everything he needed. Not just your number, but your address, your emergency contacts, your employment details—more than enough to find you.

Suguru let his fingers trace the edge of the file, his dark eyes scanning the information. Every detail about you, laid out in front of him. You had no idea how easily you could be found.

You could try to run, try to disappear—but you were his from now on.

Grabbing his coat, Suguru stepped out into the snow, the icy wind stinging his face. Words had failed; now he’d remind you.

The soft glow from your apartment window illuminated the snow-covered street. He didn’t knock when he reached your door. He didn’t need to. The door yielded easily, and he slipped inside, the faint warmth of your home wrapping around him. The contrast between the cold air outside and the heat within was sharp, almost dizzying, but he welcomed it.

The sound of your soft, uneven breaths reached his ears before he saw you. There you were, standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea clutched in your hands. Your shoulders sagged with exhaustion, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on your forehead despite the winter chill. He noticed the trembling in your hands, the red tinge to your nose, and the way your other hand clutched at your chest when you coughed—a deep, rattling sound that made his brow furrow for a fleeting moment.

You looked pale, worn down, and fragile. For a moment, the sight almost softened him. Almost.

Almost made him forget why he was there. Forget the punishments he had planned. The ways he would teach you to never leave him again.

But that fleeting moment of pity was snuffed out as quickly as it came, replaced by a darker, more resolute purpose.

You had to learn.

You had to understand what it meant to belong to him.

Suguru’s fingers flexed at his sides, his mind racing through the plans he had already set in motion. He would remind you of his power—show you what a real curse user was capable of. That as sweet as he can be, he can also be cruel.

If fear wasn’t enough, he had other methods. He had already prepared the sedatives, carefully measured and tucked into his coat pocket. Once the fight left your eyes—and it would—he would take you home.

Home, where you would learn your role.

You would become the mother the girls needed. His law was absolute in their eyes, and soon it would be the same for you.

And if you resisted? If you dared to reject him, even after all he’d done for you?

Suguru’s lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t want to think about that outcome, but he’d already considered it. Conditioned responses. Physical reminders. Unsavory methods. Honestly, he didn't want to hurt you. However, he needed you. The girls needed you.

No matter what it took, you would learn to stay. To belong.

Then you turned and saw him.

The teacup slipped from your hands, shattering against the floor. The sharp sound echoed in the tense silence that followed, but Suguru didn’t flinch. He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his expression unreadable.

“Ah,” he murmured, his voice soft and lilting, as though he were speaking to a child. “You’re sick.”

He stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate, and predatory. The sight of your wide, fearful eyes only spurred him on.

“Too sick,” he continued, his tone warm but laced with an edge of mockery, “to even send me a little message?”

You stumbled back, your breath hitching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Your pale skin, the feverish flush to your cheeks, and the way you clutched at your chest as another cough wracked your body only made you seem more breakable.

Suguru stopped just a few steps away, watching as you trembled, your fear and exhaustion painting you as something delicate—something his.

“You’ve been suffering all alone,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, soothing hum. He reached out, his fingers brushing your wrist before curling around it with surprising gentleness.

“But don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your fevered skin. “I’m here now.”

He let his thumb stroke the inside of your wrist, his gaze unrelenting as his other hand moved to your cheek. The touch was soft, reverent even, but his dark eyes betrayed him, gleaming with something that made your stomach churn, something that sent shivers that weren’t from your cold.

“You’ve been making bad decisions, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet, though his words cut like glass. “Running yourself ragged. Avoiding me.”

His fingers tightened slightly around your wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to make his control clear as you pathetically attempted to pull away.

“But it’s okay,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I’ll take care of everything now.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, his voice dripping with false kindness, “All you have to do is listen. Obey. I really didn’t want to have to go this route.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. His breath was warm against your fevered skin, his tone deceptively soft, as though he were doing you a favor.

You had never thought he was this interested in you. Suguru Geto was composed, almost aloof in how he carried himself—sharp features that seemed carved from stone, softened only by the flowing darkness of his hair. He had always been polite, controlled, and even gentle in his mannerisms, but you’d never felt singled out by his attention. Never thought the kindness in his deep, almond-shaped eyes was anything more than surface-level.

But now, as those same eyes pinned you in place, you realized how mistaken you’d been. His presence felt suffocating, the air between you charged with something you couldn’t name, and every movement he made was deliberate—calculated.

Suguru straightened slowly, his hand slipping from your wrist to his pocket, his movements unhurried and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. The room felt unbearably small under his presence, the heat of his gaze making your fevered skin prickle. His dark eyes never left yours, their intensity weighing down on you, as if he could see through the fragile walls of your thoughts.

When his fingers brushed the familiar shape of the syringe tucked into his coat pocket, his smile widened. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—a slight curve of his lips that revealed nothing of the storm swirling beneath his calm exterior. There it was—his failsafe. The assurance that you wouldn’t resist him any longer.

Your gaze flickered between his face and his hand, confusion and fear swimming in your fevered, glassy eyes. You wanted to protest, to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The trembling in your limbs, the bone-deep exhaustion, and the subtle pull of his voice, coaxing and unyielding, made it impossible to act.

Then, instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your trembling body seeking comfort, seeking something you didn’t understand. To him, it was perfect.

His hand, warm and firm, cupped your cheek as though you were fragile porcelain. The juxtaposition of his gentleness and the dark glint in his eyes made your stomach churn. He tilted his head slightly, the smooth cascade of his hair framing his face like a curtain, and his gaze softened, almost tender, as though he were truly savoring the moment.

Like the sweet lamb you were, you stepped willingly into the lion’s den.

“You’re coming home,” he said softly, his tone a mixture of mockery and affection. The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable, and you barely had time to comprehend them before you felt the sharp prick of the needle pierce your skin.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, but it was fleeting. The sedative coursed through your veins almost immediately, your body surrendering to the pull of unconsciousness.

Suguru caught you effortlessly as you fell, his arms wrapping around your limp form with an ease that betrayed just how much he had anticipated this moment. He cradled you against his chest with a gentleness that felt almost loving, the steady beat of his heart contrasting with the sinister gleam in his eyes.

“There we go,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as though you were something precious. “Let’s get you home, Sweetheart.”

What the hell does ghosting even mean? What does spamming even mean? Poor fella is trying to figure out life.

Now you had given poor Choso your number. Really, truly a mistake on your part.

You thought he was hot—mysteriously so, with his brooding gaze and those face tattoos that made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t a big deal, just a spur-of-the-moment thing when you spotted him at the bookstore while out with friends. You’d caught his eye, flashed him a smile, and casually slipped him your number on a whim.

What you didn’t realize was that poor Choso didn’t really know what to do with it.

For him, it was monumental. You didn’t just hand over your number; you handed over your heart. At least, that’s what Todo told him when Choso, unsure what the gesture meant, hesitantly sought advice. He couldn’t just ask his little brother these things, so he went to the expert about these things! After all, Todo was dating an idol!

“She must be madly in love with you!” Todo had declared with his usual bombastic enthusiasm, clapping Choso on the shoulder so hard it nearly made him topple. “To give you her number without even talking? That’s destiny, brother! Love at first sight!”

And Choso believed him. Why wouldn’t he? Todo seemed confident, experienced.

So Choso, armed with Todo’s wisdom, started texting you.

And texting.

At first, they were awkwardly sweet messages:

Choso: Hey. It’s Choso. From the bookstore. You gave me your number.Choso: Are you free to talk? I want to know more about you.

But then they kept coming.

Choso: Do you like horror books? Or romance? I can read both if you do.Choso: I saw a cat today. It reminded me of you.Choso: Do you like cats? I mean, not that you look like one. But you’re soft. Wait, not that I know if you’re soft. You just seem soft.

And then they started to come faster, his nervous overthinking spilling into endless walls of text.

Choso: Did I say something wrong? Are you upset with me?Choso: I hope I’m not bothering you. I just… I think we’d be good together.Choso: Please text me back. I can wait.

What Choso didn’t realize was that spamming someone all day wasn’t exactly endearing—it was overwhelming. But in his mind, the silence meant something entirely different.

“Todo,” Choso said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, his phone clutched in both hands. His dark brows furrowed as he stared at the unanswered messages. “She hasn’t responded. Do you think… do you think she’s playing hard to get?”

Todo grinned, throwing an arm around Choso’s shoulders. “Absolutely, brother! She’s testing your devotion. This is how women work. They want to see if you’re truly worthy.”

Choso nodded solemnly, his determination renewed. “I’ll show her. I’ll show her I’m serious.”

His solution? Doubling down.

When texting didn’t work, he tried calling. His voice shook the first few times—it felt so intimate, so real.

“Hi,” he murmured into the phone one evening after your voicemail picked up again. “It’s me. Choso. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you (the poor guy has only seen you one time). I mean—I know we haven’t talked much, but I miss you anyway (you have only exchanged names by the way). I think about you a lot. Please call me back when you can.”

And when the calls didn’t work, his thoughts began to spiral.

Was something wrong? Were you hurt? He’d seen it on TV—people ghosted because they couldn’t bring themselves to tell someone they were in trouble. Yes, that must be it.

So he started showing up.

First, it was just near the bookstore where he’d met you, hoping to “bump into” you. Then he wandered around the streets, retracing the route he thought you might take home.

Finally, he remembered the faint logo on your shopping bag that day, the one with your number scrawled on the receipt of. He found the shop, waited outside it for hours, hoping for a glimpse of you.

When he didn’t see you, his concern grew.

“Todo,” he said again one night, pacing his living room, his fingers tightening around his phone. “I don’t think she’s okay. She wouldn’t just ignore me like this. Not if she loved me.”

Todo shrugged, flipping through a magazine. “Maybe you need to show her how much you care. Do something big. Romantic.”

Choso froze, considering the advice. Todo was right. He just needed to show you.

And so, as you walked into your apartment the next evening, juggling groceries in both arms, you froze at the sight of a figure standing awkwardly in your living room.

“Choso?” you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat.You were already reaching for your phone. “How did you—”

He turned to you, a hesitant smile on his lips, his hands holding a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers. His dark eyes glimmered with a mixture of nervousness and relief, as if he were genuinely happy to see you.

“I was worried,” he said softly, stepping toward you. “You weren’t answering… so I thought I’d come check on you.” You had never given him your address. You had only given him your family name.

You stared at him, your mind racing, caught somewhere between shock and fear.

Choso tilted his head, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Did I… do something wrong?”

You stared at Choso, your groceries still in your arms, the door half-open behind you. He didn’t move any closer, but the sight of him standing there, so out of place in your living room, sent a chill down your spine.

“How… how did you get in here?” you managed, your voice trembling.

Choso blinked, tilting his head slightly as if you’d asked him a question he didn’t understand. “Your lock wasn’t very secure,” he said simply, holding up what looked like a slim piece of metal. “I was worried. You haven’t been responding, and I thought something might have happened to you.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost disarming, but the implication of his words made your skin crawl.

“Choso,” you said slowly, setting the groceries down on the counter and keeping the island between you as a buffer, “you can’t just… break into someone’s home.”

His brows furrowed, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “I wasn’t breaking in,” he said softly, almost as if the accusation hurt him. “I just needed to make sure you were okay. You haven’t been answering me, and I thought…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced at the flowers in his hands, his grip tightening slightly around the stems.

“I’ve been busy,” you said, trying to keep your tone steady. “You didn’t need to do this. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not,” he said quietly, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was an intensity in his gaze, like he truly believed every word he was saying. “You’re not fine. If you were, you would’ve answered me. Something must be wrong.”

“No, Choso,” you said firmly, taking a deep breath. “I wasn’t ignoring you because something’s wrong. I’ve just been busy with work and other things. And honestly… you’re sending way too many messages. It’s overwhelming.”

His face fell, the fragile hope in his expression crumbling. “Overwhelming?” he echoed, as if the word were foreign to him. “But I thought… I thought you wanted me to care about you.”

You hesitated, the raw vulnerability in his voice making your stomach twist. “Choso, I gave you my number because I thought you seemed nice. That’s all. I didn’t mean for this to… to go this far.”

He stared at you, unblinking, as if trying to process your words. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, he spoke, his voice trembling slightly. “So… you don’t want me to care about you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you said quickly, trying to keep your tone gentle. “I just think maybe you’ve misunderstood. I didn’t mean for you to think… we were something more.”

His grip on the flowers tightened, the fragile petals crumpling beneath his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes distant as if he were lost in thought.

Then, slowly, he nodded. “I understand,” he murmured, though his tone was unsettlingly calm. “You’ve been busy. You’ve been… overwhelmed.”

You exhaled in relief, thinking maybe he’d finally gotten the message. But then he looked up at you again, his eyes bright with a strange, unsettling determination.

“I’ll just come check on you more often,” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d made up his mind.

Your heart sank. “Choso, that’s not—”

“No, it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone almost cheerful now. “You don’t have to feel bad. I know you’re busy, and sometimes it’s hard to keep up with everything. But I can help. I can make sure you’re okay. You shouldn’t have to do everything on your own.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your blood run cold.

“You don’t need to do that,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to check on me.”

“But I want to,” he insisted, his expression softening with something that almost looked like affection. “I care about you. Isn’t that what you want? Someone who cares?”

You stepped back, the counter pressing into your spine as you tried to put more distance between you. “Choso, this isn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he said again, cutting you off with a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll make it work. You don’t have to say anything now. I’ll take care of it.”

Before you could respond, he stepped toward the door, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re never too busy again.”

And then he was gone, leaving the faint scent of crushed flowers in the air.

You locked the door behind him, your hands trembling as you slid the deadbolt into place. The faint scent of crushed flowers still lingered in the air, a sickly-sweet reminder of his presence.

For a moment, the silence felt almost deafening. You stared at the door, hoping—praying—that this would be the end of it.

Choso didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand boundaries, didn’t understand what his actions meant to you. To him, this wasn’t wrong—it was pure love. That you must love him too.

#yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #yandere choso kamo #yandere gojo x reader #yandere satoru x reader #yandere geto x reader #yandere suguru x reader #yandere choso x reader #yandere jjk

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shy-writer-999 · 2 months ago

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Keeping warm with Ace - no nut December? 🔥

Summary: Ace half-jokingly declares a vow of no-nut December. When he manages to last a few days, how will the dry spell be broken? ~1.4k words. CW: SMUT! Afab reader w/gendered language (e.g. "princess"), fingering, P in V, dirty talk. Minors don't interact - nsfw content!

Art by the lovely @hirakyun13 (thank you for collabing with me!)

“You only love me so much because I let you hit all the time.”

When he heard your words, Ace bursted out laughing. He feigned a gasp. “Do you have such a low opinion of me, princess?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m jokinggg, Ace. But you sure are rabid recently. Not like I have a problem with it or anything.”

His lips curled into that sweet smile of his as he brought his lips to your cheek. “Well, then. I’ll show you how wrong you are. Let’s see how much you like me not jumping your bones every three seconds. No nut December.”

“Ace,” you laughed. “You’re going to last a day.”

Somehow, though, he managed to last multiple.

---

Ages ago, you booked a holiday trip with Ace. A nice vacation from your lives, a reprieve from the stress and endless list of tasks to do.

The chalet—or rather, cabin—was gorgeous. It felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, in a forest of tall pines covered in heavy snow that weighed their branches down. They would have looked melancholy if it wasn’t for the bright white heaps of snow on the bows to remind you what time of year it was.

Ace’s joke-abstinence no-nut-December lasted until the second day of your extended stay at the beautiful A-frame cabin—so, in total, he lasted a good few days.

He tried his hardest and it was amusing, but really, he could barely keep it together. Boner 24/7. You figured it wouldn’t be too hard to break him, but it was great entertainment to tease him for as long as he could hold out for. Besides, after waiting for a few days you knew that the sex, once it finally happened, would be that much better.

---

On your second day at the cabin—the day that Ace broke his “no nut December”—after a nice long walk in the snow outside (interrupted by a blizzard), you and Ace returned to the cabin and undressed. Time for a shower to warm you to your bones—scalding hot and steamy.

While you showered, Ace lit a fire in the fireplace; he warmed up the blankets on the plushy, king-size bed and then lit a candle.

When you emerged from the shower, hair wet and skin damp, you snuggled up in the blankets, no clothes on (to soak in the warmth that you knew Ace placed there).

“Come warm me up, Ace.” You requested and he happily obliged, like always. ‘Warming you up’ was one of his favorite things, mostly because it just involved touching you. He would take any and every chance he could get. And of course, now that he was at the end of his mini-dry spell, he looked forward to it all the more. Might now be the time to break his multi-day streak?

When he slid in bed with you and pressed his body on yours, his warmth flooded through your body. He got as warm as he could get without being too hot.

It was a double satisfaction for you—getting warm, and then teasing Ace so hard you knew he’d fold like a lawn chair.

He wrapped a hand around your front and pulled you close to him, taking a deep inhale of your freshly washed hair and squeezing you tight to his chest.

You laid there for a while, happy and toasty, almost drifting off to sleep when you realized that you felt something hard pressing onto you from behind. Obviously, it was Ace.

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and snuggled back into him, brushing his hard-on in a way that made his breath hitch. It was easy to play him like a fiddle because he was figuratively on his knees for you every moment of the day. He’d do anything for you and worshipped the ground you walked on.

You pressed back again, harder, overtly deliberate now, and he let out a quiet gasp as he felt your warm skin graze his aching shaft through his underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.” His hand passed down to grip your hip and he rutted his hips, effectively humping you through his underwear. Quiet but deep grunts slipped out of him every couple seconds, and as you felt him roll into you it started to make you feel some sort of way—how could it not?

After Ace rubbed himself on you like that for a while, he started to get more worked up. Unapologetic groans fell out of his pretty lips and his breathing quickened.

A hand creeped downwards, towards the valley where your thighs met. He repositioned you slightly to give himself better access, then slid his fingers inwards to caress your folds and soft spots.

Those rough, thick fingers felt godly when he warmed them up and touched you gently like this. He turned you into a sopping-wet mess within a couple minutes, thighs shaking slightly, and breaths shallow, punctured by the occasional, muted moan.

“Let those sounds out, angel. I wanna hear ‘em.” He whispered in your ear and you could feel his hot puffs of breath on your skin. His fingers plunged in and out, making you squirm as he curved them and spread them inside of you.

Soft moans and sounds of bliss fell from your lips unrestrained at his request. He made his fingers warmer still, and it felt like heaven as he drew circles around your clit then slipped his fingers inside and out again.

After a while, you started to lose focus. You couldn’t tell where his skin stopped and where yours began.

“Ace—I need you,” you managed to choke out.

Promptly flipping you over so you were facing him, Ace pushed your leg up, over his hip, and pulled you into a long, affectionate kiss before he brought his throbbing shaft out of his boxers and started to line himself up with your entrance.

When he sunk you down onto his length, your eyes rolled back in your head, not in jest this time but in pure pleasure.

Immediately, Ace started to thrust his hips upwards in small jerks, fucking you shallowly and slowly.

“Fuck—you’re perfect,” Ace groaned and bucked his hips deeper, sliding deliciously into you and passing over your hot spot.

Every few seconds he greedily pulled you into a kiss, and each time your lips met in increasing desperation.

His grip on your hip tightened. It was almost painful now. As he thrusted into you faster, he started to moan into your mouth, deep groans that went straight to your core and vibrated your lips ever so slightly.

Too many presses of his girth past your g-spot and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ace, I’m gonna cum soon,” you gasped, and he slammed into you particularly hard, pressing on the spot he knew would make you feel the best.

“Do it, baby,” his hips rocked into and wet noises echoed in your ears. “Show me, ah, fuck, s-show me how good I make you feel.”

Ace slammed into your g-spot again and it sent you reeling headfirst into your orgasm. White-hot pleasure jolted through you, radiating from your sticky, pulsing core outwards to your limbs where it stalled in tingling zaps of bliss.

You couldn’t tell, since you were lost in the crushing weight of your climax, but your toes curled the hardest they had before, and you writhed on Ace’s cock so hard that it made him cum.

His body seized up alongside yours and his heartrate threatened to explode out of his chest. Deafening groans—one of the best parts of having sex with him—escaped his lips as every muscle in his body went taught. “Fuuuuhhhhccckkkk.”

When you were done floating through bliss, there was quite the mess to clean up. But, ever the gentleman, Ace told you to just lay there and not move a muscle. He got you cleaned up then went back to spooning you and keeping you warm.

oh my GOD, the piece becca (@hirakyun13 / @becca-oak ) drew has me literally drooling. also she sent this fic idea to me so she's really holding this whole piece on her back rn. please check out her page and drop a follow!!! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

if you liked this fic, check out my masterlist and the masterlist for this short holiday event! 🎄🎄🎄

merry christmas & happy new year!!

#i need him BAD #the way his hands look here makes me wanna bark #portgas d ace smut #portgas ace smut #ace one piece #one piece ace #fire fist ace #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #ace one piece smut #z's holiday event

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stellamarielu · 2 months ago

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sweetheart part 2

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: after finding yourself in a rather compromising position with your boss, you're determined to confront him about his feelings which ultimately leads to the two of you in yet another compromising position.

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, smut, like a lot of smut, low-key praise kink, choking (if you squint), dirty talk because duh, multiple orgasms, a little bit fluffy here and there

author's note: i'm sorry this took so long!! i got a little carried away with this one, oops. also realized while writing this that declan o'hara would for sure manhandle you while simultaneously whispering sweet nothings into your ear

read part 1 here

For the fourth week, you took Declan up on his offer to work late together. Except this time, you weren’t sitting in a stiff office chair, you were sat in a cozy armchair in Declan’s study in his home.

The last seven days at work had been filled with near silence. Neither you nor Declan daring to speak of what happened in his office on Thursday night. One week of awkward eye contact and minimal conversation. 7 days of you both knowing what took place between you but pretending to be oblivious.

You weren’t exactly sure what you expected to happen after the two of you were interrupted that night. Shortly after the phone call that took him away from your compromising position, Declan had abruptly ended the evening. Thanking you for working overtime and telling you to go home and get some rest. Your boss gave you little to no time to process what had just happened, let alone ask for clarification.

The next morning Declan met you with his usual harmless smile, but his eyes were somewhat apologetic, and from that point on he had kept himself busy and away from you as much as possible. It began to feel like he was blatantly ignoring you and you were growing more annoyed by the day. If he was embarrassed by the whole situation and wanted to put it behind him, fine. But for him to make you feel stupid like this? Leaving you out of important meetings and causing you to miss out on work projects just because of some silly conversation about a smutty romance novel was absurd. Afterall he was the one who brought up the book in the first place. He was the one looking at you in such an inappropriate way. The dirty words spoken were from his lips not yours. So why on earth did it feel like you were the one being punished.

But just as you had enough and built up the courage to march into his office demanding an explanation, you were met with an invitation.

The same invitation that Declan extended to you week after week- to stay late and work with him.

Only this week he asked if you wouldn’t mind joining him at the Priory, his house.

He had apparently left some important work at home that morning and couldn’t continue without it. Your anxieties and annoyance around last week’s situation instantly faded.

There is no way Declan would be inviting you to his house after work hours if his true intention was to ignore you. He could have easily told you goodbye for the day and gone home to continue working without having you tag along. It begged the question- what were his true intentions then?

So of course, you accepted his invitation, packing up your things and following him out to the countryside. He led you straight to his study upon arriving and left you to your own devices for a few short minutes to fetch you both a drink.

You began searching the room with your eyes. It was strangely intimate being in Declan’s home. At work you had always taken note at how mundane Declan’s office was. There was almost no semblance of his personality, just blank walls and generic furniture.

What surrounded you now was so different.

His study was overflowing with character. Books piled high in numerous places within the room, each one dog eared and worn. Framed artwork adorned the walls. There were vintage trinkets laid out on the mantle of the fireplace. A record player sat in the corner of the room with a handful of vinyl lying underneath it. Two lamps lit the space, creating a much more relaxing ambiance than the florescent lights at coronium. Unlike the bulky desk that sat in his work office, the one in his study was much less intimidating. Still sturdy, it was made of a beautiful dark oak that was faded and rough from years of use.

You preferred this workspace, it felt so much more like Declan. The room even smelt like him.

You stood from your chair making your way to a small mountain of books on his desk. Grabbing a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the top you thumbed it noticing annotations throughout. You smiled to yourself imagining Declan at some point in his life reading the gothic novel and marking it for enjoyment. That’s what you liked about Declan, he was eccentric and scholarly. Deep and brooding but also witty and kind. There was so much to learn, and you truly loved getting to know him, he was unlike any man you had ever met. You were so hidden in thought about his many great qualities that you didn’t hear Declan's footsteps approaching behind you.

“Whiskey?” His voice broke your train of thought.

“Oh- um yeah, thank you.” You spoke putting the book back on his desk and taking the glass from his extended hand.

You looked down at the whiskey. When he had asked if you wanted something to drink you had assumed he would come back with something more tame like tea or water.

Nonetheless you took a swig of the alcohol, knowing you would need the liquid courage if you wanted to talk to him about his recent behavior.

“I see you’ve taken the liberty to go through my things.” The rhythm of his words were smooth, a chuckle hiding behind them.

He looked amused as he took a sip of his drink. The silent treatment he had been giving you lately made you realize you missed the sound of his voice.

“Actually I think it was you who went through my things first, remember?” You playfully chide back at him.

“If my memory serves me correctly, I believe you were the one who set your dirty book down on my desk.” He held his glass to his lips as he spoke.

You let out a shaky breath. This was it. The first time either of you had even acknowledged your exchange from the previous week and you were ready to confront Declan for the way he had been acting ever since.

“What’s going on Declan? You and I have always gotten along great, I thought we were working really well together. Does one silly conversation seriously ruin all of that? I mean I get it if you regret what happened that night, but you’re my boss and it’s really hard for me to do my job when you just ignore me. You’ve barely said a word to me this week and I’m starting to get freaked out that I’m going to get fired or something.” You ramble on- probably a bit too much.

A worried look immediately takes over his face, eyes softening. He sets his glass down on the corner of his desk and takes a few steps closer to you.

“Oh God no you’re not going to get fired. Jesus, I’m sorry I made you feel that badly.” He brings his palm up to rest on your cheek, holding your face gently in his hand causing your timid gaze to meet his. The feeling of his hand on you sending heat to your cheeks.

“I’m sorry for giving you the cold shoulder this week I just-“ he paused mid-sentence looking toward the ground and letting his eyes wander for a few seconds as he collected his thoughts.

“I don’t regret it”

You raise an eyebrow quizzically, silently asking him to go on.

“I left that night, and I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Every thought in my mind for the last seven days has been you; the sound of your laugh, the little blush on your cheeks when you’re embarrassed,” his eyes are glued to yours and you feel his thumb begin to rub back and forth softly on your face.

“the warmth of your skin, the way you looked sitting underneath me. You’ve consumed me. And that’s not right, is it?” his question is clearly rhetorical, but you want to yell out in protest to keep his eyes and touch on you.

Nothing about the fluttering in your chest for the man standing in front of you feels wrong.

Thankfully he keeps your face in his tender embrace as he continues,

“I’m your boss, I shouldn’t be thinkin’ about you like that. And I definitely shouldn’t have said the things I did last week.”

You couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or disappointment that washed over you at his words, but it caused your gaze to fall from Declan’s eyes and onto the floor. You were now aware that he didn’t want you the same way you wanted him, and you couldn’t bear to look at him as he rejected you. You suddenly felt silly for thinking your feelings for him would have been reciprocated.

His hand slid down to your jaw lifting your eyes to meet his again, gently forcing you to look at him as he spoke.

“But I did say them, and I meant every word. And then like an arsehole, I tried to pretend like nothing happened because I thought maybe we could move on from it. I just don’t want to make this hard for you. I don’t want whatever happens between us to get in the way of your career. People talk, and I won’t be able to live with myself if you’re in some kind of Sunday morning gossip column for bein’ Declan O’Hara’s controversially young mistress.”

Now it was his turn to ramble, but you were hanging onto every word. You had been waiting for some sort of explanation- for some sort of confession. You understood his worries and a part of you was even thankful for his concern for you and your career. But in this moment- the warmth of his fingertips melting into your skin and the intense, compassionate stare of his big brown eyes pushed any practical reasoning out of your mind.

“Well maybe I want to be Declan O’Hara’s controversially young mistress.” Your smile was playful yet genuine as you spoke.

Declan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips shaking his head at your words.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’m a grown woman Declan. I understand that my actions have consequences. But I also can’t bring myself to care what anyone else thinks about what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with.”

Before you know it Declan is grabbing the long forgotten whiskey glass from your hand and setting it aside on the desk. He takes another step forward closing the remaining gap between you. One hand still lazily resting on your jaw as he brings the other to snake around your waist.

“I don’t think you realize how badly I wanted to hear you say that.” He sighs in relief.

You can’t tell who initiates it but within seconds you’re pulling each other in, lips meeting and bodies touching. The kiss quickly grows heated with all the built-up tension and desire that’s been forced down for so long. His hands begin their descent on your body, roaming the sides of your torso holding and grasping as much of you as humanly possible.

“How badly I’ve wanted to hear you tell me you want me.” His words are spoken against your lips, he can barely pull away from you.

“How badly I’ve wanted you bent over my desk.” His voice drops an octave, and he uses the hands that have been exploring your body to spin you around, so you’re pressed against his desk. You can feel him behind you, his body flush against yours, the arousal in his pants unmistakable against your backside.

“I thought about it that night when I went home. Thought about how much I wished I would’ve ignored that phone call and taken you on my desk instead.” His voice was a low whisper in your ear, and you could feel his breath on your neck.

His palms were flat against your abdomen holding you against his body.

You felt his right-hand slide from its position on your stomach only to find a new home gripping your backside. You could nearly hear Declan groan as he held a handful of your ass in his palm. You wanted him to keep touching you like this, clutching your body in his rough hands. You never realized your deep desire to be manhandled by him until Declan held you like this.

“Sweetheart, I could never regret the things I said to you last week.”

His grip on your ass was gone, and you let out an unsteady breath at the loss of contact. The breath turned into a whine when you felt Declan’s hand slide underneath your dress. Still pressed against the desk, you involuntarily leaned your upper body forward over the furniture pushing your bottom half further into his touch. You were so desperate to have him between your legs you didn’t care how pathetic your actions were.

“My God darlin, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He hums and you can feel his touch tracing over you’re embarrassingly soaked underwear.

He hooks a single finger underneath the material pulling it to the side and a rush of cool air meets your damp core causing you to clench around nothing.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Declan’s voice is so quiet behind you, you’re convinced he didn’t want you to hear his offer.

“Don’t. please don’t stop.” You manage to sound somewhat composed even though you’re falling apart under Declan’s touch that hasn’t even found you yet.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d have you like this, bent over and beggin’ for me.” You can’t see him, but you know for a fact there’s a smirk on his face.

Just as you’re about to plead with him again you feel two of his fingers gather the wetness pooling at your center and slowly push into you. You almost roll your eyes in pleasure, but not because of the gratification of Declan’s thick fingers stretching you open. No- it’s the noise he makes from behind you as he lets his hand work between your legs that has you melting into him. An eager groan escapes his lips when he’s finally able to feel you, a sound that assures you that he’s enjoying this just as much as you. It’s enough to make you squeeze tighter around him.

The movement of his right hand between your legs is gentle and methodical, on a mission to get you to your release. His left hand, however, is greedily pulling at your waist dragging your body further into him.

Your gasps of pleasure are very clearly encouraging Declan, causing his fingers to quicken and curl into you. His change in rhythm brings a whimper to your lips. ��

Declan’s free hand leaves your waist and begins roughly wandering your upper body stopping when he reaches your neck. Gently grabbing your throat, he brings you back so that your body is flat against him. His fingers softly wrap around your neck, and you only want him to squeeze harder. You can feel him all over: his hand holding onto your throat, his heavy breath on your neck, his fingers curling in your heat, and his length pressing against your backside. It was almost too much, feeling him like this- having him like this.

With his hand still on your throat he places open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck.

“You don’t have to be so quiet darlin’, I want to hear you.” he murmurs into you, the hum of his voice on your skin giving you goosebumps.

At his request you allow the pleasure building in you to bubble out in a primal moan, finally allowing yourself to fully lose control under his touch. You could feel him smile into your neck at your sweet sounds filling his ears.

The feeling of your release was becoming increasingly harder to ignore as Declan’s fingers continued to move within you. In a haze of desire for the man holding you, his name tumbles out of your mouth in a pathetic whine.

As soon as Declan hears his name, he removes his fingers and abruptly turns you back around to face him. Within seconds he has you sitting on his desk, his body positioned between your open legs. His hand immediately finds its place back at your center, fingers fucking into you at the same pace as before.

"Fuck- say my name like that again."

You oblige, moaning his name and grabbing onto his forearm, your fingernails digging into his skin.

“I want to watch your face when you cum sweetheart.” His voice is groggy, and his eyes are dark, clouded with hunger as you gaze into them.

Declan adored your sweet eyes and innocent smile, but seeing the way you looked at him right now was something he never wanted to forget. Your eyes were glazed over with desire barely able to focus, and your mouth fell open in pleasure. It was something he had only ever thought about late at night with his hand wrapped around his cock.

Adding fuel to the fire already burning within your body, Declan brought his free hand down to rub your clit causing your head to fall back.

The feeling of his fingers on and in you had your walls shuddering around him. The threat of your peak was so close, and Declan knew it.

“I’ve got you. Come on. Cum for me angel.”

The sweet words leave Declan’s lips in a kind whisper and it’s enough to push you right off the edge. Your body tenses and jolts and you find Declan’s name on your tongue repeatedly as you completely let go under his touch.

Both of your breaths are labored as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you a few more times, milking your pleasure.

You barely give yourself enough time to recover from your climax before you’re reaching for Declan, pulling him closer by his belt. You let your hands wander lower palming his length through his pants. His forehead falls against yours and his eyes close in indulgence, a quivering breath evading him.

“Feel how badly I want to be inside you?” his accent is think and heavy as he speaks.

Those words have your hands fumbling with his belt. You need it gone. You need to have Declan in your hands, in your mouth, in you. You didn’t care you just needed his pants off.

It’s like he can read your mind because his large hands are instantly assisting you. Watching him undo his belt you shuffle your now soaked and useless panties down your legs.

With his belt and pants finally off you took him in your hand and Declan immediately grabbed onto your waist, his fingertips threatening to leave a mark in their wake.

He couldn’t handle how sweet and soft your hold on his cock was. He was throbbing in your hand, his patience was almost nonexistent as he guided the both of you so his length was lined up at your entrance.

You were both staring at each other now. Not a single word shared between you, just heaving breaths and warm touches.

His eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he pushed into you inch by inch. Your hands trailed their way into his hair, burying your fingertips in his curls at the feeling of him filling you.

He’s pressed into you to the hilt and stays there for a moment waiting to feel your walls relax around him before he moves.

“Feel okay darlin?” He’s checking on you in a gruff tone, unable to hold back the starvation for you in his voice.

“Mhmm” You answer in a hum, giving a small nod of your head causing your foreheads to bump into each other.

Declan’s gaze falls from your eyes and looks down to where your two bodies meet, looking down to watch the way you’re greedily sucking him in. He watches himself slowly pull out just to plunge right back in. His thrusts are passionate and deep, every inch of him feeling every inch of you.

He knows he won’t last long- not when this is all he’s thought about for months. Playing all of the different scenarios that end with you screaming his name like a movie in his head. Dreaming of what you would feel like wrapped around him like this.

Watching you take him so easily while you sat in his home on his desk had his cock twitching inside you.

When his eyes meet yours again, he couldn’t help but notice your jaw falling slack. You were fucked out and losing your composure and it filled Declan with a satisfied arrogance.

“You look so pretty takin’ me like that sweetheart.” Given your indecent position his voice shouldn’t be so sincere.

“So pretty when you cum too.” The words drip from his lips like honey.

“Think you can give me another one?”

You’re drowning in the syrupiness of his sweet nothings. His words have you squeezing and pulling him deeper into your walls. His hand falls between you, playing with your clit. The already swollen and sensitive bundle of nerves practically vibrating under his fingertips.

His thrusts are deep and precise; finding the perfect spongey spot that has you gripping his hair tighter and moaning profanities.

“I wanna feel you sweet girl.”

You let your forehead fall to the nape of his neck as Declan bottoms out in you repeatedly. His fingers are moving in delicate circles over your clit and you can feel your legs start to tremble.

“C’mon let me feel you cum around me. Let me feel it.”

He’s grunting and pleading and moaning, and you can’t help but give him what he wants. You instinctively bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

Feeling your walls tightening around him has Declan roughly grabbing at your hips, holding you still as he drives into you taking what he wants.

“Oh darlin’ yes- Fuck you feel so good squeezin’ me like that.”

You have Declan in a trance: the sweet sting of your mouth on his shoulder, the soft flesh he’s grasping in his hands, the tight little cunt around him all nice and warm, the precious little whimpers leaving your lips. He swears this is heaven and he’s determined to have you in every way possible.

Screw what the tabloids want to say about it.

You pull your head back to meet his eyes and he can’t take it anymore. The pressure building inside finally sets off and Declan comes undone with a string of moans and sighs finally giving into his release and filling you with heat.

Both of you are silent for a moment, out of breath and struggling to find the words to speak. Your eyes are still locked on one another when you feel Declans hands reach for your arms trailing his fingertips lightly on your skin.

“That needs to happen again.” Declan breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

He’s wearing a dopey lovesick smile that unleashes butterflies in your stomach.

“And again-” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“And again-” He kisses you once on the cheek.

“And then a few more times for good measure.” His lips meet yours in a gentle embrace.

“Well, I guess cheers to being Declan O’Hara’s controversially young mistress then” You joke causing Declan to chuckle darkly hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

my masterlist

#declan o'hara #declan o'hara x reader #declan o’hara smut #rivals x reader #aidan turner #rivals fanfiction #rivals

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muletia · 3 months ago

Text

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you cuddle, that's it :)

cw: fluff, comfort, pinch of angst, established relationship, silliness, extremely self-indulgent, the idea spawned in my head and i had to write it immediately

word count: 1200

an: for the anons and non-anons in my inbox: i see you and i appreciate every ask you sent me, some ideas are really lovely and cute and i will write drabbles about them. i just don't want to force myself to write 24/7 because i get burn out very easily, so it may take me some time to answer you all :DD

You can see it in his optics right away. Sadness, regret, exhaustion. He’s utterly drained, even if his frame doesn’t betray it. Always upright, with perfect posture, to set an example, to be a symbol for his people. But you’ve seen through that facade for a long time now.

He approaches you, a small human sitting on his berth with a book in your hands, wrapped in a blanket. And even despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos undoubtedly storming in his processor, he smiles at you. It's faint, but tender, joyous just to be in your presence.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, returning his smile. “How did the mission go?”

“Greetings, my dearest. Unfortunately, it did not end in success.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you... want to talk about it?”

The smile fades, replaced by bitterness. The Prime returns, the leader is back. As much as he wanted to tell you everything, the wound was too fresh, too raw. He wasn’t ready to revisit those memories—not yet. He would rather think of you, only you. That was his plan for tonight, for the scraps of time you had left together. It was enough for you to just be by his side, to meet his gaze now and then, to smile. He wouldn’t ask for more; he wouldn’t dare.

“I sincerely apologize, but I do not feel comfortable discussing it at this moment. However, I shall divulge the details to you later.”

“All right, I totally understand. I don't want to push you into anything.”

“For that, I am deeply grateful.”

“But! Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“Your presence alone suffices for me.”

You weren’t entirely convinced. Optimus never asked for more. Never demanded, never took the lead. Sometimes he would request but never initiate. You wonder how you even ended up as a couple. How long he must have suppressed his feelings before you realized your own. But you quickly push those thoughts aside. They’re painful and, most importantly, they belong to the past.

“I don’t know... that feels like it’s not enough.” You know he’s about to protest, to launch into a monologue about how he doesn’t expect more from you, so you cut him off. “Wait. I know what you’re going to say, but this time, I want to actually help you. Have you ever... cuddled?"

His optics widen slightly. He wasn’t expecting that question, nor your assertiveness. But now, he’s profoundly grateful for it.

“I am familiar with the term, though I have never partaken in… cuddling. On Cybertron, other customs of expressing affection were prevalent.”

You’ll have to ask him about that later.

“I see. Would you like to cuddle now?”

Your question catches him off guard. He hesitates. If he says ‘yes,’ he’ll be stepping into completely uncharted territory, stripped of control over himself, entirely at your mercy. If he says ‘no,’ he’ll miss the experience of human affection, of tasting a relationship from your perspective, a human perspective. And it might hurt your feelings, which was the last thing he wanted.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Your wide smile is reward enough for him, though the best is yet to come.

You slide the blanket off one side of your body and pat the empty space beside you. The message is clear, and Optimus knows what to do. Fortunately, he still has enough energy to mass-displace, which he does in a matter of seconds, shrinking to a still-imposing three meters.

“Amazing,” you whisper.

He kneels on both knees to reduce the height difference even further. You’ll still have to climb onto his thighs to make the hug work, but you appreciate the effort. Now, it’s all in your hands.

Even in this position, he’s perfect—straight back, arms resting neatly by his sides. A few indecent ideas cross your mind; you know exactly how to take advantage of his submissiveness towards you. But those plans are for later. This is not the time to be lewd.

“If you feel uncomfortable, let me know right away,” you say, approaching him slowly.

You climb onto his thighs, watching his expression closely for any sign of discomfort, for anything he might not voice but would betray through body language. Luckily, you find nothing—not even when you’re face-to-face with him.

With your fingertips, you gently caress the metal where a human would have a cheek. You’re delicate, exploring uncharted territory. Stroking his cheek as a titan was one thing, but this form was new to you, just as it was to him. So you take your time, allowing him to adjust to the new circumstances, to this form of affection. Your hands move to the back, brushing against his audials until they encircle his entire helm. You shift slightly to the side to complete the embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against the side of his.

You don’t expect him to return the hug. This time, you expect nothing from him. This is an experiment, a trial. You just want him to stop thinking about everything that happened on the mission and start thinking about the here and now. To focus on you, on the skin-to-metal contact, on the fact that, for now, he doesn’t have to return to the battlefield. That he’s safe. So you’re surprised when you feel heavy hands on your back, enveloping you completely. But you don’t comment; you don’t say a word about it. You let him, because he deserves it.

His world narrows down to you. To your hair, tickling the back of his helm, to the warm skin pressing against his metal. To your softness, your breath, your heartbeat. To your scent, which he knows so well. You surround him from every angle, allowing him to forget the failure he suffered today. You fill his processor, already overloaded with thoughts of you, with even more admiration for your actions—for how you wanted to help him, even though he never asked you to. You are his universe, his galaxy, his sun around which he orbits. His alpha and omega, his beginning and his end.

This position and action are foreign to him, uncharted, incomparable to any other sensation. It wasn’t like holding you on his shoulder; it wasn’t like reminiscing about your smile. This was something new, far more intimate, and not yet fully understood by him. But it was beautiful and captivating. Raw.

“Everything will be all right,” you assure him, your voice resonating through his entire frame. “Everything is all right.” He believes you.

He can’t tell how long the two of you remain locked in each other’s embrace, but eventually, he feels you shifting. The last thing he wants to do now is let you go, still lost in your closeness, but he has no intention of holding you against your will. He releases you from his grasp, and you pull back from his chassis, leaving behind an unpleasant coldness. He wants you back there, pronto.

“Did you like it?” you ask with a smile, your thumb starting to stroke his cheek.

“Immensely,” he replies, looking into your eyes. A smile creeps onto his faceplate. “Might I request another cuddle?”

#transformers #transformers x reader #tfp #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #obsessed!optimus

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lightseoul · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 4 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.0k (can you see the trend)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), still a lot of cussing, some mature themes (no smut, sorry), we're finally in the headquarters!, the story moves significantly along here (i think)

a/n. this one took a second to get out, but i hope the wait was worth it! we're going knee-deep into the storyline, so brace yourselves for the nitty gritty. the dialogue here was too fun to write tho lol

links. masterlist, ao3

Neither of you says anything about what happened.

After you used your quirk on Masaki and the rest of his crew, eventually convincing them to let you take off the bugs and censor the cameras in the evenings, you and Bakugou were briefed about a few more details before you went your separate ways, returning home to pack up your things and spend your last night alone for the foreseeable future.

The trek back to the subway station was quiet, with Bakugou leading the way and you trailing a few feet behind. The silence that enveloped the both of you bordered on tense more than awkward, and you itched to confront him about unceremoniously jumping you, but restrained yourself at the looming thought of the trackers planted firmly against your chest.

As much as it pained you to think about it, from this point on, you have to work double time on biting your tongue and watching your words. Just your words and location—if you’re lucky—but your facial expressions and movements, too, when there are cameras around.

Fortunately, there weren’t any when Bakugou didn’t step out of the carriage just as the automated voice announced his stop, nor when he wordlessly got out of the train beside you at yours. Your face contorted in evident confusion in those two instances, to which he only tossed you silencing looks. It didn’t take long for you to realize it’d be suspicious if Bakugou didn’t see you home—his alleged girlfriend—this late into the night.

And so you rolled with it.

You even went ahead and thanked him with the sweetest possible voice you can muster when you reached your front door, as well as wished him a safe trip back home. You think you caught him off guard, but he was able to quickly gather himself and mutter back a few words of gratitude before telling you to get a good night’s rest.

You couldn’t.

Aside from the paranoia that came with knowing someone or some people were listening to your very breathing, the anxiety about this whole mess that you’ve walked into was too palpable for you just to ignore. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours—brain buzzing with a hundred what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios—before you eventually knocked out at around 3 AM.

You promptly woke up at 7 AM a few hours later, albeit begrudgingly and all thanks to your bothersome alarm tone. You had to show up at work, despite it being a Saturday, to file an indefinite leave as soon as possible. Annoyance shot through you as you remembered Kouki’s dismissive remark about your job in contrast to Bakugou’s.

You shook it off.

There were more important things to deal with, such as the guilt that bloomed in your gut as you turned in the paperwork to Yuzuki, your school’s HR personnel, who, at the sight of them, visibly deflated.

“You’re going on a leave?” she asked that cool morning, incredulous and tone somewhat begging you to say no.

“Yeah…” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“But why?” she pressed, sitting up behind her desk that’s riddled with knickknacks and picture frames of her and her toddler. “You never take off from work. And,” she enunciated, “…the kids need you, Y/N.”

Your polite smile faltered at the mention of the kids.

“Yeah, well…” you started, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a temp, what with the recent licensure exam results. The kids won’t even notice I’m gone, I promise.”

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I highly doubt that.”

It didn’t matter if she had her doubts, though, because this was happening. You braced yourself to tell Yuzuki just that, but to your relief, she didn’t push further after that exchange, opting to half-heartedly process your request instead.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, you were already cleared by her department and now officially on a short indefinite leave without pay.

In an attempt to take your mind off of potentially losing your job, you stopped by the grocery store on your way home and picked up a few items, such as toiletries and other things you may need for your stay in the headquarters. There was no telling when you’d get to shop for your necessities again, so you went full ham and spent the money you usually budgeted meticulously to the nearest cent. Besides, if you succeeded in this mission, you wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the next year, at the very least.

You were about to head to the check-out counter when your eyes caught the display of…house slippers in the back aisle.

You paused at the sight of them.

If you were going to be under house arrest, you might as well be cozy while doing so.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a beige pair for yourself, and a black pair for Bakugou. You had no idea what his feet size was, but those were the largest they carried, and so that’d have to do. Plus, you doubted quirk supremacists were mindful enough to provide their hostages with comfortable footwear.

It was already around 4 PM when you arrived home with your arm-numbing groceries and takeout dinner in tow. Setting them aside by your kitchen counter, you quickly got started on gathering your necessities. You blasted your favorite album as you packed your suitcase partly to make the arduous process more bearable, but mostly to drown out the voices that fought to take the reins in your head. You were nervous—very much so—but there was no going back from this.

And so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach, you swiftly got to work, and by dinner time, you were already packed up and ready to go. After going through your checklist one more time and confirming that everything was accounted for, you got changed into fresh, more appealing clothes and scarfed down the meal you purchased to-go after shopping.

You sat in your living room with all your things stacked beside you on the couch, waiting, though it didn’t take long for Kouki to materialize by the kitchen with that irritatingly haughty expression on his face.

You tried to ignore the disgust that sprung as you watched him step on your freshly washed rug with his booted feet, choosing to shift your attention upwards instead. You observed him as he eyed your belongings with mild disinterest, before shifting to regard you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up one hand for you to take, while the other moved to touch the pile of stuff.

You didn’t bother to verbalize your consent, resorting to just nodding as you gingerly took his hand. Your surroundings instantly morphed the moment that you did, and you found yourself going through the now-familiar motions, emerging smack dab in the middle of your floor’s hallway a few seconds later.

Kouki was gone just as quickly as he arrived, apparently way above helping you move your things to the space at the end of the hall. The same goes for the twins, who only watched you as you lugged your baggage into the room.

You locked eyes with the female guard, and for a second, you debated engaging her in conversation.

You already knew what to say. You’d ask her if they were sure about you staying in, when Kouki can just teleport you to your respective apartments at the end of each day if they’re so worried about you getting spotted.

Besides, you thought as she glared at you with seemingly unfounded hate, that means we’ll be out of your hair.

But as tempting as it was to bring up that alternative at the moment, you ultimately thought better against it.

You already used your luck to convince them to turn off the trackers at night—something they probably wouldn’t do if you and Bakugou lived outside due to the lack of backup surveillance. It simply wouldn’t be smart and cautious of them if they did. You also didn’t want to undo that already tall order of a bargain when what you needed the most was the privacy in which you could discuss the mission and steps moving forward.

Besides, you bet your money it’s not just that. The teleportation quirk of that old geezer has to have a limitation somehow…

You let all these simmer in your head as you settled in for the night. To your chagrin—you wanted at least one night where you get to sleep on the decent-looking bed—Bakugou showed up not an hour later with his own luggage.

You didn’t say anything to each other aside from brief ‘Hey’s’ as he entered the room and unpacked his belongings, as well as when he disappeared into the small comfort room and showered.

You decided then and there that you both had to work on your conversing skills if you wanted a shot at making this ruse believable for the sake of the mission.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, decked out in lounge clothes and haphazardly drying his ash-blonde hair with a towel, it was already 8 PM sharp—your agreed-upon time to retreat for the night and consequently, remove your trackers.

And so you wordlessly filed out of your room, only to see the twins already at your front door, waiting. You doubted they ever left their post ever since you arrived.

You eyed the male twin as he sashayed into your room before his sister called you to attention. Other than that, the exchange was nothing but silent and perhaps a little bit hostile as the woman roughly stuck her hand up Bakugou’s shirt then yours, similar to last time, and removed the devices. You fought back a wince just as she ripped it from your skin, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake.

You could tell she was resisting the urge to shove you back to your room when the deed was done. You didn’t want to risk being her punching bag, so with a curt nod, you promptly turned back and once again entered the room, with Bakugou following you just as the other twin exited and closed the door behind him. Looking up, you immediately registered how the cameras were now facing down—covered—and the red, flickering lights were nowhere to be seen.

An instantaneous wave of relief flooded through you.

Bakugou must’ve noticed, because he whipped to face you, and the disturbed expression on his face was enough to shut you up.

He tilted his head, perhaps gesturing to the rest of the room, and it took you a second, but you eventually managed to make out what he was trying to say.

Shut your trap, his icy stare told you. Check the room for bugs.

And so with a nod of understanding, you tossed him a look right back before quite literally turning the room upside down. It probably took you at least 10 minutes to uncover and check every surface, nook, and cranny, but by the time you both were pretty sure you were safe, you were already stifling a yawn.

And having a hawk eye must come with the job description, because that didn’t go unmissed by the pro-hero, who wordlessly took one of the two pillows from the bed, as well as the throw blanket on top of the actual duvet cover, before tossing both on the brown couch.

You were just about to thank him for preparing your ‘bed’ for you, but you didn’t get to, because you were very much robbed of all words when he plopped himself down on the couch, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“What are you—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off, his commanding tone comically juxtaposing how snug he looked with his head barely peeking out of the cloth. You’d laugh at the way his large feet were poking out at the end of it if you weren’t in a contentious mood.

You frowned. “You’re the guest of honor. I should be the one sleeping on the couch.”

“If it bothers you that much—” Bakugou piped from where he laid comfortably on the (p)leather furniture, “—we can take turns. Tomorrow, I get to sleep on the bed, and so on.”

“But—”

“Conversation’s over. ‘Night.”

With that, Bakugou flipped on his side, turning his back against you, effectively shooting the conversation down in its entirety.

You stood there for what felt like a couple more minutes, keen on shaking him awake, maybe even yanking him off the couch and planting yourself on it before he could wrap his head around what was happening, but you ultimately decided to let it go, at least for now.

You wished him a good night as you turned off the lights and snuck into the queen-sized bed a few moments later, although you bet he was already fast asleep based on the lack of a reply.

Which was good for him, because he needed the rest for what was about to crash into you the next day.

Apparently, Masaki wasn’t kidding when he said groups like theirs needed the space to conduct their activities, because they sure handle a lot.

At 8 AM, you were roused awake by a violent knocking on your door, and you could tell Bakugou was awoken by the very same thing, because he shot up in alarm just as you did. You quickly got up and padded to the entryway, trying to ignore the silly embarrassment of being seen in your threadbare pajamas in broad daylight, before whipping to look at the man. You didn’t have to say it, though—Bakugou was already grabbing his pillow and blanket and plopped into the bed, lying down as if he was there the entire night. Only when he was fully settled did you turn the knob open, only to see the female twin scowling at you. Her hand was held up, on top of which were two trackers.

“It’s breakfast time,” she spat out—literally, some of her saliva landing on you. She looked over your shoulder to glare at Bakugou. “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”

Behind you, a distinct grumble sounded out across the room, and you glanced back to see Bakugou getting up from the mattress and folding his blanket, a deep frown etched on his sharp features.

Looks like someone’s a morning person, you thought to yourself.

Not wanting to aggravate her even further, you wasted no time in getting dressed and presentable enough. You debated on whether or not to spend five minutes putting on makeup, ultimately deciding to do so, with you ending up patting on just enough product to look eye-catching before you and Bakugou went down to the mess hall to eat breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the space, you found yourself thankful for that extra five minutes because all eyes were on you. Well, maybe more on Bakugou, but they inevitably drifted to you, the person who walked next to him side by side. You could hear the people whisper to themselves as you moved to sit at the table near the back, before it hit you and you froze.

“What?” asked Bakugou from across you, who followed suit and paused, butt hanging mid-air.

“Come and sit next to me,” you blurted out, and before he could react in a way that would incriminate you both: “I want to sit beside you, babe.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened ever so minutely at the pet name, his face then sobering up as if he just realized what you were trying to do.

You wished you could spell it out for him, that couples tend to sit next to each other rather than across, and…you needed to seem like one who is head over heels for each other around these people as well. Thankfully, you didn’t have to, because Bakugou merely nodded without question, before rounding the table and seating himself right next to you.

You did your best to tune out the looks and murmuring throughout the entire meal, after which you got swept to one of the halls for an introductory talk for the new members. There were eleven of you in total, including you and Bakugou, the rest of whom you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even hide their surprise and awe when the two of you walked in and sat yourselves at the farthest row beside each other. You tried to radiate an aura of friendliness, smiling at the others when they looked at you, and then beaming at Bakugou whenever you caught him looking your way.

You could tell he was having a hard time playing the part, his smile strained whenever he attempted to return the motion. It was probably after the third time of trying to get a reaction from him when you mustered the courage to bring a hand to his shoulder, kneading the muscle as a form of an affectionate gesture, but mainly to get him to relax. He initially tensed at the contact, but eventually loosened up as you continued the action.

Soon enough, the talk commenced, with someone you didn’t know presenting himself as Kazuma, one of the officers of the organization. He went on to formally introduce the association, named The Quirk Coalition, as a group of like-minded individuals who aim for a future where quirks are nurtured and fostered to their fullest potential in a democratic society that puts a primacy on said powers. You noted how they conveniently left out the part where they detest the weak and the quirkless, although you did not comment on it. You only glanced at Bakugou one time, who looked onto the stage with tight lips.

Kazuma also went through the hierarchy of the organization, starting with Masaki at the top just as you suspected, then Sayaka and Kouki, followed by Hiroto and Omiru—the two who you recognized as the twins, looking like they just got their mugshot taken in the photos. Kazuma sat there at the lower tier alongside several other officers, under which were the regular members, totaling about 70—some of whom live in the headquarters and most going in and out, having normal jobs during the day and families to tend to.

You don’t know how they got it, but at the bottom row of the chart was a picture of you, right beside Bakugou dressed in his full hero gear.

You let the reality sink in as Kazuma droned on about the group’s beliefs, how they equally valued their ideals and the people who carried out these ideals. You made a mental note of this piece of information, before accidentally zoning out for the rest of the lecture.

The next seven days went on roughly the same way, with either of the twins serving as your unfriendly alarm to demonstrating PDA in the mess hall during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with talks, history classes, support group sessions, and even quirk training nestled in between mealtimes.

You and Bakugou went through every single thing together, from sitting out the ‘classes’ where the teachers essentially waxed poetic about rewritten history with a strong bias against the quirkless, to attending what felt like group therapy where you each took turns sharing your ambitions and goals as members of the organization. Bakugou even partook in one of the quirk training sessions, wherein he practiced shooting precise targets while propelling himself in the air.

You couldn’t decide if he was trying to act all serious for the mission or was just showing off—could’ve been both, really, but regardless, his efforts were enough to catch the eyes of the fellow members working on their respective quirks. You, on the other hand, sat to the side and watched the pro-hero do his thing, not being able to ‘practice’ anything without a partner to ‘boost’—or really, manipulate.

Needless to say, you’ve both been busting your ass pretending to be eager, dedicated members, but aside from the information readily provided in the forums, you haven’t had much luck extracting details that could prove to be useful for the mission, a fact that you’re now planning to bring up with Bakugou, a full week into moving into the headquarters…

…After you finish checking the bedroom for bugs.

It’s become some sort of an unspoken nightly routine for the both of you. The second the door shuts behind you after the trackers have been taken off and you’ve checked that the cameras are pointed downwards, capped, and are not blinking anymore, you go to your respective halves of the room and thoroughly check each inch for a wiretap. Neither of you dare to say anything compromising until you’ve completed the survey, and even then you’ve telepathically agreed to watch your choice of words.

Still, you can’t deny the familiar sense of reprieve whenever this time of the day comes along, and you’ve since associated these moments with Bakugou with comfort.

Which is probably why you have the audacity to joke around.

“Are they comfy?” you ask just as you plaster your butt down into the couch. You’ve had your fun yesterday, sleeping easily in the soft bed. You watch Bakugou as he eyes you warily, sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing you.

He huffs, crossing his legs. “Are what comfy?”

You point to his feet with your lips. “The slippers. They were buy one take one, you know.”

At that, he smirks. You can’t help but feel your own smile growing.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be bragging about, princess.”

Flying right past the tail end of that sentence for your sanity, you force a frown on your face. “Why not? It was a great deal. And, I’m sure yours are comfy. Mine are.”

He leans back on his hands that are firmly planted at his sides. He’s still smirking. “So why bother asking me in the first place if you already knew the answer to the question?”

You open your mouth to retort a witty comment, but come up short. Bakugou’s smirk morphs into a grin when you do. You wrinkle your nose in disdain, “I was just trying to make small talk. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The pro-hero only chuckles at that, before sitting up and bringing his hands forward, one holding and wringing the other arm’s wrist.

You study him for a beat, and then the cameras, which are still turned down and capped with a lens cover.

And when he only continues the rotating motion, you finally speak up.

“…What are we gonna do now?”

Bakugou’s eyes shift upward from his wrist to look at you, the softness that was just in his gaze a second ago now replaced by his trademark caution. You try not to focus on the disappointment of having caused that, as well as the misplaced longing for what was once there.

It takes him a while to reply, his features contorted into a look of deep thought. But when he does so, he straightens his back. “We—”

A barrage of heavy knocks resounds from the door, startling both of you and cutting Bakugou off. It’s immediately followed by a gruff voice, which you can now easily recognize as Hiroto’s.

“You’re not making any noise,” comes his bite, although it’s slightly muffled. “You better think twice about planning something behind our backs, you two.”

You roll your eyes. You understand any hostility coming from the members, as you and Bakugou come with risks that can potentially harm the organization that they hold dearly. But even you can say that the twins are taking it a bit too far with the harsh treatment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think their being extra hard on you has something to do with Masaki agreeing with the off-surveillance.

“Fucking relax,” Bakugou seethes in their direction. “Just because we’re not audibly having sex doesn’t mean we’re talking shit.”

You snort. Bakugou whips to look at you, the corners of his lips upturned.

That seems to put a plug on Hiroto, because the man doesn’t say anything after that. Once again, you’re met with silence, with you and Bakugou sitting on your respective furniture, looking at anything but each other.

It’s him, though, who finally breaks it a few minutes later with a clear of his throat.

“We keep at it—” Bakugou starts carefully, “—is what I was trying to say earlier. They’re gonna discuss the plans with us sooner than later.”

…Patience, huh?

You can do that.

Nodding, you adjust your position on your seat. You don’t dare to ask him to expound or add your own thoughts on the matter. Better to be safe than sorry, even though you’re pretty sure your room is free of bugs.

So instead, you finally give in and steer the conversation to something that’s been plaguing your mind ever since the commission kidnapped you a little over a week ago.

“Bakugou,” you begin, and he looks at you expectantly. You gulp. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the question.”

“…So might as well shoot your shot,” he finishes when you don’t say anything.

Well, then.

You blurt it out before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I know you’re strong and all that. But…” you trail off, fixing your eyes on him, “Why did they specifically want you of all heroes?”

Almost instantly, Bakugou’s smug expression is wiped off his face just as it falls.

You scramble to backtrack.

“Sorry if that’s too invas—”

“Are you sure we were batchmates?” he cuts you off, a brow raised in question. “Back in UA?”

You stare at him. Where is he going with this?

“Yeah?” you reply, not at all willing to try and jog his memory with the only prominent exchange between the two of you. So instead, you toss the query back at him: “Why?”

“Because if we were, you would’ve heard about the rumors about me, unless they weren’t as widespread as I thought.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Rumors?”

He peers at you for what feels like an eternity, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation. His body language has changed drastically, you note—the distinct confidence from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with…shame?

He heaves a deep breath.

“I was a bully,” he finally declares, meeting your gaze. “I bullied someone for being quirkless. I guess you could say I had a…” he hesitates, as if he’s trying to filter his words,” …certain mindset up until late into our first year.”

He shakes his head again, which is now bowed down toward the floor. “I did some pretty…awful stuff, to say the least.”

And before you can say anything, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me about what I did.”

“I wasn’t going to,” comes your speedy response. That causes him to look up again and at you, a surprised look written on his face.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“I don’t have to know,” you reason, schooling your features into a neutral, even sincere expression. “Besides, I can clearly see there’s remorse. There’s no need to reopen that can of worms, especially if you’ve tried to make amends.”

You pause, eyeing him. “Have you?”

He tosses you a look of offense, as if you just accused him of being a serial killer. “Of course. And he’s forgiven me. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who feels remorse—” you chuckle, “—just like I said.”

He shoots you a glare, although it’s playful and has no bite to it. “Smartass.”

You grin at him. “I am smart, aren’t I?”

Bakugou doesn’t verbalize his agreement, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead, he turns the table on you.

“You’re a guidance counselor, aren’t you? You use your quirk on your clients?”

You gasp, insulted. That grants you a smirk from him. “No! Of course, not. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs, “What? It makes sense to me.”

“So should this thing called ethics, which I follow and is very important, especially for people like me who work in the mental health field.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him. “Why’re you in this field, then? If not for its compatibility with your quirk?”

You think about it for a beat.

“I guess you can say my quirk did play a part in all of this, but not as my crutch,” you eventually explain. “Using it made me realize how much I like making people feel and do better, which is something that I now do with evidence-based techniques as a counselor. Plus, my job trains me in identifying emotions, which, you know…”

—helps with maximizing your quirk.

But you don’t say it out loud for fear of getting exposed, and it seems like that’d be unnecessary, because understanding flashes across Bakugou’s eyes. He nods, and that’s all you need to know he gets what you’re leaving unsaid.

“That’s a pretty noble cause,” he offers, although it comes out a bit awkward.

Still, you flash him a genuine smile. He looks away.

…Right at the wall clock, which now reads a little too late o’clock.

“You should get some sleep,” says Bakugou just as you are about to tell him the very same thing.

And when you don’t respond: “Are you sure you wanna sleep on the couch?”

‘What, are you proposing we share the bed?’

…Is what you would say if you were a fucking lunatic, which you’re glad you aren’t, because you don’t know how you’d survive this hell of a mission if you were.

Instead, you nod, shooting him a grateful look as you move to lay back and drape the blanket over your body. “Bask in the luxury of a proper mattress, your highness.”

You don’t get to see his reaction anymore in your new position, but you bet your cheap but surprisingly ergonomic slippers that he’s grinning with the way he snorts loudly.

“Stupid.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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