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jenomark · 3 years ago

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➔Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: Oral (F+M) + Penetration (F) + Cursing ➔Word count: 3,659

➔Summary: Two realtors who play together, stay together. Whenever you and Jaehyun work together, you make a little bit of a mess in the homes you're trying to sell for your clients. After all, no one ever said you couldn't have a little fun on the job.

“Your boyfriend is so charming.”

You were showing a married couple around a brand new house, built in a neighborhood they most likely could not afford. While the husband was checking out how the door handles jiggled on every door in the place, his wife leaned in close to your ear, her voice deeper than the fake customer service voice she had in the beginning of the tour.

You could hear the accusatory tone, her words felt through every layer of your reserve, “How did you get a man like that?”

If she could have circled around you, like a huntress ready to take her prey out, she would have taken the chance. You held your ground, so used to the way women acted around Jaehyun. But there was a certain amount of fun to be had when you were bored and waiting, your day's work blemished by couples who believed they were hot shit.

“Just between me and you,” you purred, leaning in closer to her and stroking her arm with your finger. “He’s not my boyfriend. We just like to fuck each other at work."

You never blamed any of the women for looking at Jaehyun like he was a prized hog in a show. He was handsome on the outside, his face so valentine sweet, his smile disarming even the most hardened of ladies. He wore a tailored suit nicely, too, which made the effect that much cavity-inducing. On the inside, though, he was a filthy, filthy man, and he would never go for someone like the wife, as much as she wanted him to.

No, Jaehyun wasn’t your boyfriend. Jaehyun wasn’t even your partner. He came to the house dressed up in the part of a wholesome realtor, his eyes following the wife across the room, forcing eye contact that would make her feel warm underneath her collared blouse. He did it because it was fun for him. He did it because he could.

It was a game. Jaehyun eye-fucked the wife to tease you. He liked when you wore jealousy like a proud bib. He waited for you to take possession of him, which you always did in the subtlest of ways. Watching the wife back away from you after claiming that you and Jaehyun fucked- a tale met with disbelief- was a way to piss all over your territory.

That's mine.

Of course, you could have pushed Jaehyun harder. In doing so, the husband of the pair was a viable conquest. He looked at you with his dumb look when you ran your hand up your stockinged thigh, his jaw slack as you hiked up your skirt inappropriately and unprofessionally high.

However, it wasn’t very fun for you. You could tell the husband was too in love with his wife to ever flirt with you. You gave up quickly, your annoyance waving like a red flag whenever the wife breathed in your direction.

“Are you almost done, sweetie?” you called out to Jaehyun.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Jaehyun said, sticking his head out of a doorway.

You shot a look at the wife, her full attention on Jaehyun as he walked towards you both. She might as well have started taking off her clothes where she stood. She was fanning herself with her hand and wiping sweat from between her cleavage, the telling signs of someone who really wanted to know Jaehyun's cock felt like.

“Your husband is insisting on checking every nook and cranny of this place.” Jaehyun said, a brilliant smile stretched across his face. “I keep telling him there is no need. You won't find a place like this in the city.”

“I’m sorry for his behavior.” the wife said. “He does this all of the time. Nothing is ever good enough for him.”

“I can’t blame him.” Jaehyun said, his eyes roaming down the legs of the wife. “We men love being thorough.”

You slapped a hand against Jaehyun’s chest and tugged on his tie, hoping it would tighten against his throat. “We should get going soon, don’t you think, Jaehyun?”

“Oh, I think we can spare a few minutes, baby.”

The wife was completely ignoring the fact that you were in the room. She took a step towards Jaehyun, batting her eyelashes and pushing out her sweaty breasts. Jaehyun ate up the attention, his eyes practically fucking her right in front of you.

“You are absolutely shameless.” you said, walking away.

You walked through the fully furnished and staged home, finding the husband in the downstairs bathroom (one of three in the house). He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t really your type. Still, he gave you the attention that made it easy for you to ignore all of that. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

“Like what you see?” you asked, moving one leg out in front of you so that your skirt rode up. “With the house, I mean.”

“Yeah.” he said. “Might be out of our price range. I'll have to check.”

You walked further into the bathroom, your heels click-clacking on the tile. It took only a few seconds for Jaehyun to find you, like it was a mating call, appearing in the bathroom doorway looking relaxed and ready to fuck. You knew the wife was soon to follow, a look of disappointment on her face that Jaehyun didn’t stick around to flirt with her.

You often wondered what women were thinking when caught with alone time involving Jaehyun. Were they imagining him bending them over the kitchen sink and fucking them? Did they think they were special, that he would sneak away from his dull job for an illicit affair with them? You could be sure that they were mentally undressing him, that they were not at all in tune to the fact that Jaehyun, in the end, only had eyes for you.

“If my girl here hasn’t sold you on the house, we would be delighted to show you to others on another date and time.” Jaehyun suggested.

Jaehyun’s words were final. He wanted them to leave immediately, to take their shit and go. You could hear the sour puss in his voice, the slight quiver in sound. He threw his arm around the wife and brought her closer to him. He let a smile consume him, one that made you grit your teeth. The four of you walked out of the bathroom quarters together, back to the open plan living room to discuss things further.

“You smell wonderful.” Jaehyun murmured to the wife of the pair. He let her go. “Anyway, the price isn't negotiable, but we’ll see what we can do if it’s what you really want. You may have to extend your budget further. If not, there are always others, like I said.”

The wife and husband agreed that the house would never be in their budget before leaving. The husband checked out your tits, and the wife cast one last longing look at Jaehyun over her shoulder, her pink tongue sensually gliding along her lower lip. With a serene smile, Jaehyun shut the door behind them, shutting the world out from you and him.

“You could have charmed the panties off of her.” you said, crossing your arms against your chest.” Pretty sure she would have blown you in front of the fridge if you had stood in the kitchen any longer.”

“Is that why you walked away?” Jaehyun said. “Scared of the competition?”

“Please.” you said. “I just really wanted to get fingerbanged by the husband over the toilet.”

“I can make that a reality.” Jaehyun smirked.

You walked into the kitchen and sat on a stool, smiling to yourself when Jaehyun followed you like a dog. “It’s not fair what you do to them.”

Jaehyun held on to either side of the stool and kept his face inches from yours. “You’re just angry because I win every time.”

“The husband always loves his wife too much.”

“And the wife is always ready to get fucked raw.” Jaehyun said. "By yours truly, of course."

“Maybe I should just start fucking the wife.” you said, peeling Jaehyun’s fingers from the stool.

“I would very much like that.”

“I know you would.” you said, pushing him away.

Jaehyun was pushed back feet from you. He yanked at his tie until it was loosely hanging around his neck. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, the ends sticking straight up in some places. You watched him, knowing it was what he wanted. You could see his chest hair peeking out from between the now unbuttoned portion of his dress shirt. The heat began to cover your body like a warm blanket of sin, as you thought about tangling your tongue up in those hairs.

“I can feel you on my skin, even though you haven’t touched me yet.” he whispered.

Jaehyun rolled his neck around, cracking it in some places. When his eyes met yours, the shade of brown appeared somewhat darker. You could feel that look rolling all the way down your stomach until it settled in its depths, curling up in itself. Your nerves felt shot, your confidence gone.

“Doesn’t it just feel so good to give in to me?” Jaehyun asked, his voice a little rough. “Don’t you want to play with me in this big, bad house?”

He came to you, only stopping by the length of your knees. He tucked his fingers underneath your chin and brought your eyesight up to his. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. He let his palm run smoothly down your throat, giving it a little squeeze. Your body was unmoving underneath his touch. Sometimes, you would absolutely vibrate with pleasure when Jaehyun touched you. Other times, you would become still like a steel fortress in the wind, wanting him to work a little for your affection, to open up your doors to him like an open house.

The house was empty, but so full at the same time. Jaehyun got down on his knees in a moment of submission, his head down like he was praying. He hugged you, his arms resting on your thighs, his whole being in your lap. It lasted less than a minute until he was back on his feet, a rare sweetness in his eyes as the rest of his body became unfamiliar and rigid.

“Stand up.” he said, his voice cold, the sound of it rattling through the bones of the house. Though there was a faint grin on his lips and a playful eyebrow raised, Jaehyun wasn’t allowing himself to be played with anymore.

You were not quick enough. He took you by the sides of your shoulders and pulled you from the stool. Your knees buckled but Jaehyun caught you in time, the move making your nipples harden. He could see the reaction through your work shirt, your two little buds staring him in the face. All you wanted was for him to touch you, but he wouldn't.

It was fun playing the game with him, since you two were so alike. There were times when you dominated Jaehyun, making him eat you out and cum before the new couples would arrive at the house. If he failed, he would be punished and have to do something embarrassing for him. If he passed, you would both be in a great mood and would usually get a house sold. Then, like now, there were times when Jaehyun took control, which would usually be followed by a lack of sales disappointment. You could always feel those times coming, the excitement unable to be contained.

Jaehyun took your hand and whisked you off through parts of the house where he knew prying eyes wouldn’t find you. He ran up the stairs eagerly, tugging you along behind him, not bothering to see if you were tripping up.

“The master suite.” Jaehyun said, stopping in front of a door. “Wait here.”

He left you standing in front of the closed door for over five minutes. You kept checking the time on your phone, your eyes roaming up and down every detail of the white, wooden door. If he was trying to tantalize you, it was working. You were very impatient, trying your best not to bust through the door and hop right on his dick.

“Come in.” Jaehyun said.

You held onto the handle, the image of the husband jiggling that very handle less than an hour ago fresh on your mind.

“I won’t tell you twice.” Jaehyun said.

You opened the door and saw Jaehyun sitting on the edge of a model bed. He had stripped it of the crisp sheets and fluffy pillows that were adorning it. He was shirtless and his dress pants were unbuttoned, his brown leather belt hanging by his sides.You drank him in like that, the impatience waning away.

“Come closer.” he said.

“So bossy.” you smiled.

You walked closer. Since you knew that you affected him as much as he affected you, every step felt delicious. You stood in front of him, ready to rip your business skirt off if he just said the magic words.

“Good girl.” he said, standing up.

He was looming over you, the heat from his body making you hot. You wanted to press your hands to his sweaty chest and push him down onto the bed. You wanted to bite his shoulder so hard that it made him cry out. You wanted to sit on that strong jaw, rocking your body over him until he was suffocating.

“Look me in the eyes,” he said. “Don’t look at my body, like I’m a piece of meat.”

“A little bit of disobedience never hurt anyone.” you said, meeting his eyes.

It was difficult to keep your eyes trained on his when you could hear him unzipping his pants. Each click of the teeth made your clit throb, like his tongue was already gliding over it. You could hear his pants falling down to his ankles, and from the corner of your eye, could see him shift slightly to step out of them until he was naked. With your imagination, you thought of him stroking his cock, pumping his fist up and down his shaft.

“Are you with me?” Jaehyun breathed. “Be with me right now.”

You nodded as the sounds of him masturbating heightened. Jaehyun moaned and let his eyes disconnect from yours. Though he was looking down at his cock, you were looking at the top of his pretty head. There were thousands of hairs you could tug and pull to get him to comply, to have him give you his cock. You could feel the tip of him and his fist rubbing against you as he made it upwards, each stroke nearly punching you, because he was so close.

You looked down, the top of your head skimming his. He was going at it slowly, moving his body like he was fucking his own fist. It was so sexy that you could feel all the nerves in your body tingling. Though his pleasure didn't happen to you, you could feel every grain of it. You breathed heavily with him, your body going through the build up with Jaehyun.

Your eyes met him again. Yours were, no doubt, asking him why he was being so cruel. It took a minute for him to stop, for Jaehyun to set his mouth in a grim line, and to cock his head and look lost in thought.

“This isn’t about you.” he said. “This isn’t about your pleasure. On your knees and put my cock in your mouth. Don’t stop sucking until I say.”

As you got slowly to your knees, your lips slid down his stomach, your kisses rushed before he could decline them. You grabbed hold of his cock, the tip of him resting on your bottom lip before you looked up at him. He held your side of the neck before moving to the back of your head and forcing his cock down your throat until your eyes watered.

Fucking in a place that didn’t belong to you was thrilling. The owners could come back any second and catch you in the act. There could be cameras installed, or nosy neighbors coming to check up on the people who owned the lone car that sat in the driveway.

“Is it good?” Jaehyun asked, his voice velvety smooth. "How do I taste?"

You sucked his cock without stopping, testing him with both lips, tongue, and fingers. You brought him back so far into your throat that you choked and took him out with a string of saliva. You swallowed that, too, so grateful to have him in any of your holes.

Jaehyun pulled his cock out and teased himself back inside of your mouth slowly. You let your jaw hang open and laid your tongue flat while he fucked your face. You gripped his thighs and let your fingernails dig into him before he came on your tongue, grabbing a handful of your hair at release.

When he ordered you to stand up, he was still leaking. He wasn’t stopping for anyone, not even when you made a show of wiping his cum off of your chin with your finger and slipping it into your mouth.

"It tastes yummy." you said.

“Clothes off,” Jaehyun said, ignoring you. “Kneel on the bed.”

He wasn’t losing his erection. He treated his cock like it was delicate, holding it in his hands and stroking it gently. You watched him as you stripped, taking a little too long with the stockings. Jaehyun ended up ripping them from your legs and tossing them aside. Without saying another word, he grabbed your ankles and pulled you down to the edge of the bed, nearly making you faceplant on the mattress.

“Fuck.” you whispered, your body jerking in surprise as Jaehyun started eating you out from behind.

He wasn’t shy about it either. He was licking you, moving his head side to side and up and down, just to get every bit of you. His lips were so warm and you were so wet, that you had to sink your upper half onto the bed and place your forehead against your arm. Jaehyun squeezed your ass cheeks and pushed you forward, his tongue lapping up all of your wetness.

You didn’t want to break, to crumble. You wanted to be strong and not moan or give in completely. You didn’t want to let him know that he could bring you down with just a lick, but it was hard not to.

“Beg me.” Jaehyun said, coming up for air.

He smacked your ass and you turned around until you were on your back. It was rough and forceful, and it turned you on. Jaehyun kissed your ankle before moving his lips down your thigh.

“Beg me.” he repeated. “Fucking do it now.”

The hotness on your inner thigh as his mouth got higher was enough to make you call his name. “Please, Jaehyun.” you said. “Don’t stop.”

Jaehyun ate you out, slipping his fingers inside of you. He would occasionally stop and kiss his way up your body to leave hickeys on your neck, and catch glimpses of your face to see if you were enjoying it.

“Not about my pleasure, huh?” you asked, nearly laughing.

Jaehyun groaned. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Too late.” you said, moaning as he fingered you. “You smell like her.”

You kissed his neck and got the bite you wanted from his shoulder. You held him against you, making sure your scent was all over him. His mouth tasted like you, though. You kept kissing him and grabbing at his hands to make sure they didn’t stop fucking you. You were a tangle of bare limbs, holding him against you, and fighting for dominance.

Jaehyun lifted his fingers from your pussy and held himself up over you. He looked you in your eyes, his gaze falling to your lips before he kissed them. He moved his body and slipped his cock inside of you, knocking the air from your mouth.

Missionary position was not your favorite. It was too romantic, not as wild. You wanted him to break your back, to bend you into positions that made your legs wobble the next day. You wanted risk. You wanted it rough. But having Jaehyun’s weight on top of you in that way felt different. You let him move over you, holding your hips as he drilled himself inside of you.

It didn’t last long until you were wanting to flip him over, until you could be on top and ride him. Jaehyun smirked when he realized what you were doing and said, “I don’t think so.”

He leaned up until his sweaty body wasn’t clinging to yours anymore. He spread your thighs apart after pulling you closer to him. He let you get a good view of his cock disappearing inside of you.

“This pussy is mine.” he said, touching his fingers to your clit. “Say it’s mine.”

“It’s mine.” you said.

Jaehyun fucked you faster, his cock hitting your cervix a little rougher. You winced at the discomfort you quite liked, immediately wanting him to keep fucking you deeper.

“Say it.” he said, moaning with each thrust.

“Or what?” you challenged, breathlessly trying to hold yourself together.

Jaehyun gripped your wrists and brought them above your head. He got close to you again, his body smothering yours, and his cock fucking you in a way that was too good to stop.

“I’m yours.” you said. “It’s yours. All of it is yours.”

He smiled when he got what he wanted, the same charming smile that seemed to have most women on tenterhooks, wondering if they would give them something else of his. Jaehyun never would, though, because everything of his was also yours.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Fully Completely 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), attempted violence, mutual irritation.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: I did not plan to get the first part done so soon. I will probably be setting time aside as I write this to also work on some original stuff. When it comes to that, I’d love if y’all might let me know what you think would be a better medium to release it? Kindle, Patreon, etc. I’m really not sure but if it was Patreon it would like be two series running at once with a chapter of each a month + Q&A and maybe some bonus materials? I am a noob at this shit and it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

Anyways, I’m rambling...

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: She simply slammed the door

💀💀💀

The garage smelled like oil and snow. The cold air seeped under the closed metal door as you sat on the low stool and affixed the new headlight to the propped up Harley. It was only the start of an impractical rebuild; your brother wanted everything metal replaced with chrome. You thought it was obnoxious but the parts were paid for and you could never complain for money.

You were funded exclusively by the town’s club, your garage not far from The Asp where the members hung out and revved the engines you found yourself looking at more often than you liked. You were good at what you did though and privileged for it. You had the protection of the club without having to devote yourself truly to its bounds.

You checked the wiring and rolled away from the bike to change the station as the radio crackled. The snow kept setting the speaker to static and the noise was driving you mad. You flipped the switch to play the cassette stuck in the drawer, the old stereo beaten up and filthy. Springsteen’s gristled tones filled the shop and you wheeled back to your brother’s ride.

With the storm would no doubt come more work. Your fingerless gloves itched more than they kept you warm. Your fingertips were numb as you touched the frigid metal and the sweat of your palms made the fabric uncomfortable. You were used to it, rather tolerant as your task kept you distracted.

You were interrupted as you bent to look under the tank and get a good look at the exhaust and the rest of the beast’s entrails. You had the new pieces still wrapped and didn’t intend to do it all at once. Jerome could wait for his tacky redesign.

A loud banging came at the metal door and you glanced over in irritation. Anyone in Birch knew to come in the painted door to the left and not hit the large one. You huffed and stood with a groan, your hips sore from the low stool.

You fixed the front of your fleece-lined denim jacket and pulled the tail of your plaid shirt from inside your jean pocket. You’d been hunched over so long you were all wrinkled. You went past the large door and into the small entryway off the left of the garage and opened it with a tinkle of the rusty old bell above.

You stuck your head out into the gales as the snow continued to fall and squinted at the man in his thin jacket. He stood beside the long luxury car as another man with wild orange hair remained in the driver’s seat and blew into his hands. They were out of place in the small town and you could tell by the way the man scowled at the door that he knew it.

“Hey,” you called to them, “there’s a place down the street. I don’t do walk-ins.”

“Oh, hello, Miss…” he let his voice trail off as he neared and you stared at him rather than provide your name. His accent, his attire, the curl of his lip, it was clear what he thought of you and the bodunk town, “actually I was referred by an acquaintance. One, James Barnes.”

“Bucky?” you furrowed your brow.

“Mm, yes, that one,” he said, “my car will need detailing. We had some difficulties on the motorway.”

“Right,” you tried not to scowl, “well, if he sent you, I guess I can help.”

You left him and the door clattered behind you. He followed a few steps after as you went to the switch and pushed it to raise the wide door of the garage. You waved in the driver of the car and he carefully pulled in beside your brother’s bike.

He got out and you were surprised by his size, he was taller even then his companion and wider; neither could be described as short. You lowered the door as the thinner man walked along the shelves and the long table along the other side of the garage. The bigger man stood by the car and tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Not much better in here than out there,” the dark-haired man turned back to you, “you have heat in here?”

“You need a better coat,” you said as you rounded the back of the car, “and some boots.”

You glanced pointedly at his leather shoes and bent to reach under the table. You pulled out the space heater and plugged it in as you set on the wood. You cranked it up and smiled at him tritely.

“So, what’s the damage?” you asked as you looked to the other man.

“Headlight, maybe,” he said in a peculiar accent, “some scratches. We had a bit off a run-in.”

You neared and bent to examine the front of the car. You sighed as you tilted your head and clicked your tongue. It was easy enough to beat out the dents and buff out the scratches with a quick refinish. The headlight would need to be replaced and you knew they didn’t carry anything for that model in town. No one there was pretentious enough to drive it.

“If you want the headlight done before you leave town, it’ll take some time to get the replacement,” you warned.

“Oh, and how do you know I’m leaving?” he taunted coyly.

“Well, I know you’re definitely not sticking around,” you scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I? A quaint place like this, I’m sure there is so much to explore,” he said dryly.

You had no delusions of what Birch was but it wasn’t the part of outsiders to deride the dead end. You stood straight and put your hands on your hips.

“You can go back to your castle, my lord, but you will have to wait out the storm,” you sneered. “Two days for the scratches. If you want to take it back after that and wait for the headlight to arrive, that’s fine with me.”

“Two days for the scratches? Surely you could do it before the morning,” the black-haired man insisted.

“I could but I have other work to do,” you replied, “so you can be patient and take your turn in line after all the hicks who live here.”

You went back to the table and grabbed your phone from where you tossed it earlier. You unlocked it and searched the model of his car and scrolled through the parts list.

“You’re Bucky’s guest so I’ll send the bill to him?” you asked, “though you do look to be able to afford it yourself.”

“You can invoice him directly,” he assured, “so you’re one of them?”

“One of them?” you repeated as you focused on checking out. The damn internet kept cutting in and out.

“My brother, those men in this town, I never knew a woman--”

“I’m not a biker. My brother is in the club,” you assured him, “so that big blond dope, he’s your brother?”

“Regrettably, yes,” he slithered, “Loki Odinson,” he introduced himself as he rubbed together his hands, the leather gloves doing little to protect his fingers, “my driver is Korg, and you’ve yet to tell me with whom I am trusting my property.”

“Again, there is a shop down the street. Prices aren’t bad,” you finished up your purchase and tucked your phone in your jacket pocket.

He met your eyes as you turned to him and he looked down his nose. You kept on and brushed past him as you went back around the car and sat by your brother’s bike.

“Sorry about the boss,” the other man, Korg, intoned, “he can be a bit--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” Loki snipped, “I needn’t atone to her.”

You rolled your eyes and wheeled around the side of the bike, “if that’s everything, you two can head back out. I’ll let you know when the car’s ready.”

“We might wait for the snow to calm,” Loki suggested.

“I close in an hour, you’re not staying here all night,” you sniffed.

“Trust me, I have no special desire to spend more time with you than necessary,” he retorted, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman so volatile as you, dear, and I’ve only just met you. I never expected you people to have very many manners but perhaps what I did presume was too much.”

You bared your teeth but kept at your work. You would worry about kicking him out when you finished the wiring.

“To be fair, had you not spoken first, I might’ve assumed you were a man,” he added.

You paused and glanced down at the open tool box. You weren’t unused to the comments, you weren’t girly in any way but it wasn’t like you were trying to be a man. You wore what was comfortable and in your work, practicality prevailed over aesthetic. Yet, your years of ridicule as a kid made you less tolerant of the comments and those had stopped long ago because you made sure they did.

“Oh, darling, have I upset you?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said as you reached into the toolbox.

“Well, you’ve not given your name and I’d hate call you what I truly think of you--”

The wrench flew from your hand as you stood and spun to him. It barely missed his head and bounced off the wall and plunked onto the table beside the heater. His eyes rounded and the other man looked at him. There was a thick silence as you glared at him.

“If you weren’t a friend of Bucky’s, I wouldn’t’ve missed,” you hissed, “now I will kindly, before I reach for a bigger wrench, ask you to leave.”

He pushed his shoulders back and tilted his head as his lips thinned dangerously. He swallowed and beckoned the other man with two fingers. His cheek twitched as if he would grin and he nodded subtly.

“Well, darling, how amusing you are. These brutes must adore you,” he snarled, “the exterior does indeed say it all.”

You bent and reached for another tool blindly. He blinked and quickly dodged as you flung the next wrench and he followed his henchman to the entryway. Your temper was a match for many men. It kept you safe.

“Barnes did not say his mechanic was a madwoman,” Loki called back as the bell rang.

“What, are you going to tattle on me?” You stormed towards the doorway, “you precious little princess?”

“Princess?” he met you in the doorway as Korg behind him held the door open and the snow blustered in, “I know Barnes will do me no other favours, but do you think he’ll do you any?”

“Get out,” you spat and shoved him, “I don’t need men to take care of me and I have no problem in proving that.”

He bit the inside of his lip in a crooked smirk and winked before he turned away and strutted out into the snow, shielding his face from the wild winds. Korg trailed behind him and the door sprang back into the frame. You crossed your arms and glared at the peeling paint.

You were tempted to tow his car out and let it weather the storm but you were smarter than that. If he was doing business with Bucky, you would be a fool to get in the way of it.

💀

The snow dwindled to a lazy dusting, the ground thick and treacherous. That day, you started early and around noon, you headed across the street to the diner for your usual lunch of a club sandwich and black coffee. You didn’t have to order as all the waitresses knew what to expect. You weren’t unfriendly but your association made many standoffish.

You tapped on the lip of your mug with your thumb, fingers hooked through the handle. The sleepy town felt dead in the winter. You were used to the dullness of Birch but tolerance was hardly happiness. It was home, where you’d grown up and you had no certain desire to get out, but you wouldn’t mind a little more than what was expected.

You yawned and gulped down the last of your coffee. It was bitter and left a few grounds on your tongue. You leaned back and grabbed the monthly newsletter from between the salt and pepper shakers. You read through the fun facts which weren’t very fun or even new. They were copy and pasted out Guinness and Reader’s Digest.

You looked up as you sensed someone approach your table but it wasn’t the waitress. The man from the day before slid coolly onto the seat across from you at the booth and smirked over the table. You raised the newsletter again and folded it backwards to read about the weekly knitting circle down at the rec center that was also the library.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Loki said, “it must be fortune I ran into you, I was hoping to inquire after my car--”

“I told you, two days,” you said tersely as you continued onto your horoscope …‘a new force will bring change’... You hated this tripe. You swore, every month they just switched the blurbs under each sign and hit print.

“So be it,” he cleared his throat and you lowered the paper as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“What are you doing? I eat my lunch alone,” you said.

“Well, to be frank, I was pointed here on the promise of some famous cabbage soup,” he explained as he folded his jacket over the seat next to him, “you looked like you needed company.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Kimmie came over and set down your sandwich. She greeted Loki and you saw the way she eyed his tailored suit. He stuck out in the town of flannels and denim.

“Hello, sir, can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“Tea, English breakfast,” he ordered smoothly.

“Oh, sorry, we only have um, um, sorry, peppermint, earl grey, ginger lemon, and green,” she listed off as she tried to remember them all.

“Earl grey,” he sighed, “and a menu.”

“No, no menu,” you insisted, “and you can take his tea to another table.”

“And when we’re through, I’ll take the cheque,” he ignored you and snickered under his breath.

“Kimmie, can I get a to go box?” you asked as you shimmied off the seat and snatched up your coat, “I have to get back to work.” You took out your wallet and counted out the usual amount plus a tip, “thanks.”

“Of course,” she smiled awkwardly and glanced between you and Loki.

She scooped your sandwich back up and scurried away with it. You felt him watching you as you walked away and went to stand by the till as you watched Nora flit into the kitchen. She packed up your food and returned with the box. You took it and headed for the door, ignoring the arrogant out-of-towner on your way.

“Wait,” Kimmie called out your name and you turned back as she held up your keys, “you dropped these.”

You met her halfway and took them from her with a mutter. Again, he was watching you… or still watching you. She spun and promised she’d have his tea shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed and you head to the door again, “interesting, I never would have put the name to the face.”

You pushed out into the snow and gritted your teeth. You thought of getting the work on his car out of the way quickly so he would leave you alone but your spite made you want to put it off entirely. Whatever. He’d be gone soon enough.

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years ago

Text

Back Into the Swing of Things

summary: Bucky is finally stable and after your friendship turns into a relationship, Bucky asks you to teach him about the little things. (set around civil war)

words: 3355

warning: legit none just fluff!

pairing: bucky x reader

Masterlist

You were sat at the little desk in your room, your music was blasting through your headphones as you nodded your head to the beat. It was paperwork day, the worst day. For some reason it was a busy time or missions which meant mission reports, you liked to just bang them out all at once for one day every couple of weeks. Some people did them right after but the little notes you take in your journal allow you to wait a bit and then do five at once. The plate that used to have a sandwich was now empty, Bucky brought it by because he knew it was your day and if he stayed around you it would most likely lead to Bucky trying to pull you into bed for snuggles. He’d claim you’d look too cozy to be doing work, you'd wear one of his shirts and maybe some pants.

With a sigh you lean back in your chair, a couple pops coming for your back. “Four outta five…” you muttered to yourself as you took the papers and stacked them on the other reports. As you reached for the final one there was a knock on the door, “come in, Bucky.” You called over your shoulder.

“How’d you know it was me?” Bucky slipped through the doorway, he walked over and spun your chair around.

“Your knock is very polite,” was all you said. It was true, he’d knock loud enough to be heard but not too loud to seem demanding.

“Thanks…?” Bucky sat on the edge of your bed, “I wanted to ask you something,” Bucky looked to the floor.

“Talk to me,” You cheered and gave your full attention.

“I have a list of things in my notebook, just stuff I don't get- like understand. Would you mind helping and explaining some stuff?” His face was red and his eyes looked down, it was painfully obvious he was embarrassed.

“Sure,” You shrugged and Bucky smiled. He got up and went to get the book.

Debit Card Machine

Bucky was sitting across from you at a small diner, you went after rush hour to give yourself space and also Bucky doesn’t like crowded and loud spaces. Bucky had gotten a B.L.T. and you got something similar but you’d never been here before so you weren’t exactly sure what was in it- but it was good.

The waitress came by, the uniform was very retro like the rest of the place. It wasn’t way back to the 40’s more late 80’s early 90’s, Bucky had said he liked coming here because of the jukebox even though that was way past his time. He found it easier than an iphone, which was on his list of things to learn.

“Coffee or tea?” the lady asked.

“No, just the bill please,” You smiled at her, she nodded and walked away. Bucky got up and moved to sit beside you because he didn’t want to learn by looking at the thing upside down, the debit card itself was slightly conquered territory but he had the idea.

“And you said this was on your phone as well?” Bucky picked up the card and looked at it, his fingers running over the numbers that were lifted.

“You have to connect your card and all that to your phone so you just hover over the machine and it’ll pay.” You mimed the action of paying with your phone over nothing for Bucky to get the gist.

The machine showed up and you explained all the buttons, the waitress seemed confused because Bucky looked your age, she would have expected a guy to know how this works but she also kept her distance like most waitresses do.

“So you put your card in, the chip end goes in,” you showed. “Then you make sure the price matches the one on the receipt, if it does then you hit ‘ok’,” you did hit ‘ok’. “Then you have to tip, I personally go the percentage route so I’d click the far left button,” It made a sound when you did. “Now, depending on the service you can tip a different amount, I go fifteen percent as a baseline but she was really nice so I’ll tip twenty.” you typed it in, Bucky had a shocked face.

“Twenty dollars, that’s another meal!” He whispered, trying not to let the lady hear; she did.

“Twenty percent, our total goes from eighteen-tirty to twenty-forty five,” You showed the number again, then you clicked okay and proceeded to type in your four digit number. Bucky watched over your shoulder and tried to remember it all, when you were showing things at home he’d take notes and have a couple diagrams to remember it all but his notebook was no longer in sight. You glanced down after giving the machine back to see him rolling the book onto itself under the table, Bucky shoved it into his back pocket when you both got up to leave.

“Do you mind going over it again when we get home?” Bucky asked as he held your hand, the Avenger tower in sight.

“Of course,” you left a little kiss on his cheek.

Cooking Bacon

You didn’t remember reading this when you first went over the list. Granted, there was tons of stuff on Bucky’s list. It seemed he added it on later, like he watched Wanda cook and had a little idea to add. Either way, you both were in the kitchen in front of the stove. You both had aprons on, yours was a nice navy blue while Bucky’s read: ‘kiss the cook’. He wanted the navy one but then lost a game of rock, paper, scissors.

The pan was heating up on the stove, you had the lid ready beside it on the counter. Bucky seemed nervous because of the idea of the grease spitting out at him, he was starting to stand slightly behind you or away from the stove in an area he thought he wouldn’t get hit. “Alright,” you clapped your hands together after feeling over the pan to check the temperature. “We are gonna cook four pieces, so I’m gonna take them out of the package,” You were careful around the stove because Bucky seemed extremely nervous for you. He kept making little ‘peep’ing noises like he was about to say ‘watch out’ or something but decided against it, it was cute.

You put in two and then Bucky came over to put the others in, he was so leaned back he could barely get the bacon strips into the pan. On the last strip he haphazardly dropped it in, this caused the grease to spray back. A couple bits landed on your arm but a few more hit Bucky.

“Fuck!” He jumped back as you went to cover it quickly. The lid steamed up in seconds. Bucky was at the sink, washing his arm off. “Does it, like, burn through stuff?” His tone was so concerned but you couldn't help but laugh at the question.

“No, you’re safe,” you nodded. Bucky came back over and stood right behind you, his chin nestled on your shoulder as you waited a bit. His arms circled around your torso and he also watched the pan, he didn’t know what to look for per se, but he did it anyways. “This should be good,” you stepped forward which caused Bucky to let go. “We’re gonna lift the lid and start to flip them, alright?” You grabbed the tongs and clicked them a few times, it was a thing you always did.

“Let’s go,” Bucky’s voice wanted to sound excited but he was slightly scared.

You lifted the lid and stood off to the side, quickly but calmly you flipped the pieces over and then covered the lid. “So, we give that time, then we'll take the lid off and just move them around and flip them more, you can do that,” You smiled over your shoulder to see Bucky writing something down. It was cute how much he cared about the little things, you’d never been taught how to cook bacon or cooking in general, it was something you just found yourself doing.

Bucky took the tongs and went for it, he lifted the lid and went straight into flipping them. After he found they weren’t spitting back he seemed to loosen up, his shoulders rolled back and he seemed to find a comfortable position. He was looking over to you for any tips but you stood there with a smile on your face, he was actually doing a good job.

You got out a plate and paper towel, Bucky transferred the strips over. He watched you pat them down with a paper towel, this was something you adopted into your life because you weren’t the biggest fan of all the grease.

“This is a big part, so listen up,” Bucky looked over from eating one of his two pieces. “Write this down, never and I mean never pour this grease down the sink- ever.” Bucky had the piece of meat sticking out of his mouth as he scribbled it down, he hummed and nodded to let you know he got it. “There is a can under the sink, grab it for me, please?” You picked up the pan but stayed over the stove, Bucky came back with an open can. There was nothing in it except congealed grease, he seemed grossed out but you were used to it. “Dump it in here after it’s cool but not solidified, just don’t pour it down the sink.” You poured the stuff in and left it on the counter to cool off, Bucky finally bit down on the piece of bacon before handing over your two pieces.

“I think that went well,” Bucky nodded, he leaned against the counter with a tired sigh. You didn’t have to heart to make fun of him for being scared of the grease, he seemed proud of himself. So you just stood beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, “good job, Buck.”

Skin Care

Bucky was the type of boyfriend to sit in the bathroom and just watch you put on or take off your makeup, he was truly put under a trance when he would watch you. In the beginning he’d ask questions or ask what you were doing and why, but now he had watched you so much he’d pass you the tube of mascara as you finished on your brows.

Your skin had adapted to a long and specific routine, this was your time for about ten minutes before bed to fully unwind and have some quiet. You would rotate products and skip over some of the serums each night but there were the basics you were going to teach Bucky: Wash, tone, moisturize.

Before you went to the drug store you asked Bucky about his skin, he really had no idea what you were talking about and half the time he’d shrug it off. “I don’t pay attention to my skin,” was a common phrase. You lightly touched his face and felt his T-zone, he joked that sometimes if he opened his mouth really wide his skin would feel super tight and dry.

“So then you have dry skin,” you said. Thinking of the products to get him, Bucky didn’t have acne, it was more for cleaning the skin and keeping it healthy.

“I think,” Bucky really felt like a pain. He was trying to help you out so you could find good products but all he was giving was half answers, ‘ya, I guess’ or ‘I think so’.

But currently you both were standing in the bathroom, it was right before bed and Bucky adjusted his headband for about the hundredth time. He said it was too tight but you knew he was being a baby about it, his hair was also pulled back into a bun.

“We are gonna wash our face,” You showed how warm the water should be before splashing your face. Bucky copied right after, and awkwardly leaned forward to make sure water didn’t drip on the floor after while he waited for you to move on. “Now we are gonna wash our face, so take that bottle with the blue cap and put a bit in your hand. A little goes a long way,” You added and did the same, both faces in the bathroom were sudsy and ready. Bucky went in first to wash it off, his hands cupping under the tap and collecting as much water as he could before leaning right in to wash off his face. He did it twice.

“Pat dry?” He remembered you saying that before. His hands held the fresh towel, you hummed in response because your face was in water. Bucky patted and gently rubbed around, when you stood up you dried off as well. Both faces were damp, Bucky looked at the little water droplets running down your neck before turning back to the task at hand. “Toner- don't tell me, I know this one!” He grabbed your arm, “red cap?” His face lit up with joy as you nodded, “I got this!” He cockily laughed, he knew what he was doing.

Bucky took the little cotton round and drizzled some of the toner around on it, he passed one over to you before making one for himself. Bucky leaned in and got super close to the mirror, he watched intently as you rubbed your face. He copied, it was like the cotton pad was barely touching his face. The last thing he cleaned was his nose before pulling the cotton away, he scanned over the pad and saw the gross residue.

“Ew, that was on my face?” Bucky was enchanted by the pad, holding it super close to see the leftover dirt. You had already thrown away the pad, it made you giggle to see Bucky so hypnotized by literal oil and dirt.

“Moisturizer, final step for you,” You sang. “I like to pick it up with my knuckle, like this,” You unscrewed the lid and tapped your pointer finger knuckle to the opaque, soft cream. Bucky took his new one and did the same. He wiped it into the palm of the opposite hand, “rub it around, heat it up before putting it on,” He did just that. “You’re a pro, Buck!” You giggled as Bucky meticulously put it on. He was applying it upwards and spreading it evenly around, his fingers gently dancing across his face as the cream worked its way in.

“How do I look?” He turned to you.

“Like you’re glowing.”

“I feel like it,” Bucky laughed and looked back at the mirror. He tilted his head around to see how his skin would look under the light in the bathroom, he seemed to forget you were there and was completely in awe of what he did. Bucky brought his fingers to his face to feel around, the moisturizer had set and now his skin looked full and plump. The pads of his fingers gently tapped his cheeks and made the shimmer on his cheekbones move and twinkle.

“Alright, that’s enough admiring yourself,” you laughed and pushed him out of the way. Bucky stayed to watch you finish up your routine.

Record Player

As a way to say thanks for helping Bucky with over fifty niche things, Bucky decided to teach you how to properly use a record player.

This wasn’t any old player, this was Bucky’s player. No one was allowed to touch it without permission and even though you have never gotten the green light, you asked almost every week. This was one of the only things Bucky could really hold onto, when he touched the dark, stained wood he could almost see himself back in the 40’s; almost.

He once got really mad at the beginning of your friendship, you really didn’t know it was his, you just thought it was a talking piece. Bucky ended up yelling at you, he had just changed the needle and you were running your finger on it to see how small it was. Steve had ran in because Bucky was yelling- it was a whole ordeal that ended with Bucky not talking to you for three months.

But now there was trust and Bucky liked that after that little fiasco you didn’t even think to touch it, he could really trust you and now was a great time to show off his favourite thing. Bucky was all giddy to show his record player off to you, you were grabbing some water before he started and you noticed Bucky was using the cuff of his sleeve to wipe off a smudge before going back to inspect it.

“Alright, let’s start!” Bucky smiled. This man didn’t start with the parts and what they do, he started with the history of it all. Bucky pulled all the facts he knew about record players in general and the vintage one that was sitting in front of the both of you, his eyes seemed to light up with each new fact that popped into his mind. Part of you wanted to check your watch but you also had never seen this man get passionate over an object before, he could get passionate over people- you, Steve, Sam, etc. -but never over this. “Are you ready to play music?” He reached over into his bin and pulled a record you’ve never seen.

“Which one’s that?” You asked as Bucky pulled it out of it’s sleeve.

“It’s just a random one I picked up a week ago for this,” Bucky held the record the proper way. “Thumb on the center and index on the edge, don’t touch the actual grooves because the oils in your hands can clog them up,” Bucky moved his hand around to show you.

“Sorry, what do you mean you bought that record for this? And why does the needle look different?” you noticed the needle looked extremely worn, it looked great and new a couple days ago.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky dismissed it. “So now we are gonna place the record softly,” Bucky placed it down and turned back to you. He talked about the arm and the needle before showing you how to put it on manually and then with the little leaver, after showing them each way twice he stepped back and offered you a turn.

“Seems easy,” you mumbled and took the arm, you were doing it manually first. The movements were extremely soft and slow, when the needle made contact it took half a second before a really grainy sound came through the speakers. It sounded wrong but Bucky nodded, he applauded you for taking the needle off as well. Then you did it with the leaver, right when it was about to touch you thought it looked off so you nudged it a bit- bad idea. The needle didn’t even hit the record and part of the arm scratched the recessed vinyl. “Shit!” You yelled and ripped it off. Causing the record to scratch, the sound and the record itself, there was a shine to the edge. “Oh god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to mess it all up- I really didn’t mean to break it- god, you must so ma- I’m sorry-” as you fumbled over yourself Bucky just started to laugh. “What?” you were about to cry because of the guilt.

“That was a sixties record and a needle that is five years old, you didn't do anything. I bought it because I knew this was bound to happen.” Bucky only laughed at your exasperated sigh, you fell into his hug like a child. “Poor baby,” he mockingly cooed, he found it so funny how you were screaming apologies at him even though it was painfully obvious it was a shit record and needle.

“That was scary, I think I need a nap after that…” you sighed.

Bucky threw you over his shoulder, “thinking the same thing, doll.

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello Salut

Goodbye La revedere

Thank you Mulțumesc

You’re welcome Cu plăcere

Good morning Bună dimineata

Good afternoon Bună ziua

Good evening Bună seara

Good night Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you? Ce mai faci

I love you Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

493 notes · View notes

seita · 4 years ago

Text

— don’t ask | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟷𝟹𝟻𝟿𝟶

cw: roommate!au, sugar baby!au

tags: heavy pining, arguments, briefly ft.kaminari, rejection, possessiveness, jealousy, crying, dirty talk, pet names, dom!shinsou, fingering, riding, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, praise (?), marking, creampie, angst with a happy ending.

note: this is a thank you for 5k followers! i can’t believe i hit such a milestone in only like a month and a half! i appreciate the love and support everyone has given me and i promise to put out more quality content going forwarad!

— you thought it was strange a guy your age made such good money by seemingly doing nothing. whenever you would question him about his income, he’d grow defensive. once a month, a left the house for a few days; leaving to perform a mysterious job he didn’t want you to know about.

⇦ back to navigation

When you saw the flier for someone looking for a new roommate, you honestly thought it was one big scam. You assumed that the second you set up a meeting, you would be kidnapped and never seen again.

Being a lowly college kid meant you didn’t have your sea legs in the adult world quite yet. Swamped with studies, horrible at managing your time and your stress levels, you were left a constant mess. So, your solution was to stick to studying for the most part and work part-time so the job didn’t take up too much of your time.

Another genius idea you had was the age-old roommate situation. You started out looking for listings online for preferably Musutafu or Tokyo. Alas, you came up with nothing after a handful of weeks and were intending to give up.

However, a stop by the grocery store changed everything. It was a flyer for someone looking for a roommate in an area of Tokyo that you knew to be pretty pricey.

It was close enough to your college campus so you wouldn’t have to worry about a stupid commute. You thought it was too good to be true as you looked at the information stating you wouldn’t even need to pay rent. You’d simply have to split some bills and buy your own groceries.

The idea of not having to shell out hundreds of dollars a month was appealing on its own; you’d definitely be able to save with a living situation like that.

The logical side of you was weary, however. The entire thing could be a ploy to trick some unsuspecting victim, like yourself, into who knows what.

Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to contact the person just in case it wasn’t a trick. No harm in checking, you supposed.

Tugging the flyer down from where it was pinned up on the bulletin board, you folded it up and tucked it away in the front pocket of your purse to take care of when you got home from classes.

All of that led you to meeting one Hitoshi Shinsou. He was a tall, tired looking guy around your age. His most prominent feature was the fluffy mess of purple hair that was atop his head. When you first met him, he fixed you with a cold gaze ― his purple irises burning holes into you. And for a second you were sure that you were right on your hunch and you were never going to return home.

Nothing of consequence happened, naturally, and instead he showed you the bedroom you would be using and handed you a key before sitting down on the couch to watch TV. The whole exchange was unlike anything you expected. When you questioned him he simply told you he’d get everything straight for you and that you could begin to move in whenever.

So you did.

As expected of such an expensive apartment, the room you were given was great. It was roomy and nothing like you assumed you would wind up with. Most college students wind up with a shitty roommate, a one-bedroom apartment, and instant ramen for dinner every night.

Instead you got the chillest roommate known to mankind. Shinsou barely even made a peep. Most of the time you found him relaxing in front of the TV watching murder documentaries. You did learn that the poor guy had insomnia and as a result was up almost every night. Sometimes you would catch him snoozing on the couch but that rarely lasted more than 2 or 3 hours before he was up and about once again.

You did learn that the man was a lousy cook so he mostly lived on instant ramen before you moved in. Luckily for him, you enjoyed cooking and decided to be the one to make meals for the two of you. To say Shinsou was appreciative was an understatement.

Simply put, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

And so bloomed an easy friendship with him. Shinsou made it easy to befriend, although he was a quiet guy he was funny and charismatic; the type of guy who probably had a lot of friends.

You lived there for about a month when you noticed the first weird disappearance.

You had been laying in bed, eyes closed as you slowly began to drift off to the white noise of your overhead fan.

What lulled you from your daze was the beep of the alarm at the front door. Sitting up, you listened carefully only to hear a couple beeps and the click of the door shutting.

Frowning, you got out of the bed and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to shield yourself from the chilled apartment air. Your footsteps were silent as you padded your way to the entryway. You immediately noticed that Shinsou’s shoes were gone from where they should have been sitting beside the front door.

You checked his bedroom to find that he was, indeed, not there. You simply assumed he had gone for a walk or to a convenience store or something since he couldn’t sleep and went back to bed. That was certainly not something uncommon for the insomniac you called a roommate.

When you got up in the morning, however, you noticed he was still gone.

You wandered into the kitchen, intending to open the fridge to start something for breakfast only to find a cute cat-themed sticky note plastered to the front of it. Written in your roommates sloppy handwriting was “I won’t be home for a few days.”

Short and to the point but still causing questions to arise in response.

You had no choice but to carry on. You could text him and question him but you had a feeling you wouldn’t actually get any information.

Two days was how long he was gone for. He turned on the second night, looking as tired as usual.

“I’m home,” he called with a heavy sigh, kicking his shoes off before dropping the heavy duffle bag he carried to the floor.

“Hey,” you greeted over the back of the couch, “I uh...made dinner but I didn’t make any for you. I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“It’s fine, I already ate anyway,” he hummed, dropping his full weight onto the empty cushion beside you. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

You eyed him and decided to simply not ask about the hickey on his pale skin.

The time ticked past midnight and you stood up, yawning as you stretched, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, finally stealing the remote from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey…” you paused at the entrance to the hallway, deciding to chance it, “Where did you go anyway?”

“...To work,” he replied, simply.

His tone held a sense of finality to it, leaving no room for you to inquire exactly what that meant. So, with a final bid, you went to your bedroom.

It was almost like deja vu, laying in bed as you fell asleep only to hear the beeping of that alarm. You sat up and climbed out of bed, intending to catch Shinsou before he was gone but as you reached the living room, you heard the front door click shut and he was gone.

Sighing, you wandered to the kitchen to find another note like you’d seen last time stuck to the fridge.

As you glanced at the calendar on the wall, you realized it was almost exactly a month since the last time he did this ― you remembered because he left on the 23rd and it was currently the 22nd. You could practically feel the dots forming but you had absolutely no way of connecting them.

Deciding to retire to bed, you attempted to sleep but found yourself thinking of Shinsou.

Two months in a row he vanished around the same time, in the middle of the night leaving only a note. Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem to have a job ― he only said his disappearance was part of his job. But he came back with a hickey.

Sighing, you rolled over and attempted to fall asleep.

Two days later, he came home.

“I’m back,” he grumbled.

Immediately, you noted the aggravated tone to his voice. Sitting up from where you were sprawled out on the couch, you eyed him. Instead of just dropping his duffle bag like he had last time, he took it straight to the laundry room.

As he disappeared into the kitchen, you got up and followed him. He was squatting on the floor, rummaging through the bag as he tossed out pieces of clothing. You leaned on the door jam with your arms folded on your chest. Whether or not he knew you were there, you didn’t know.

“There’s some dinner left for you,” you said softly, watching him pause and look over his shoulder at you.

“I already ate,” he replied, voice cold.

You frowned, standing up straight, “Alright, well…” you sighed, “I’ll wrap it up and put it in the fridge in case you get hungry tonight.”

He didn’t reply but you kept watching him. He moved to fully sit on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him with a grunt. You noticed that he was separating the clothes into two piles. Closer inspection brought your attention to the price tags attached to the clothes in one pile.

You found yourself wondering where he got those clothes from but you decided not to ask. He seemed to be in a rather sour mood.

He left the new clothes on the floor and dumped the others into the washing machine. With quick efficiency, he started the cycle and stuffed the remaining clothes back into his bag.

You backed up to allow him to leave the laundry room. His shoulders were stiff and his posture was tense. It was a complete 180 from how you usually saw him.

“You um...you alright?” you finally asked when he sat down on the couch.

He barely spared you a glance before propping his feet up on the coffee table, turning the TV on. Realizing you weren’t getting a response, you attempted to brush off the brief anger that flashed through you and instead went to the kitchen to clean everything up.

You didn’t know why he was being so rude to you ― it’s not like you did anything to him. Deciding to just head to your bedroom to study, you shut off the kitchen light and skirted behind the couch to avoid getting in his way of the TV.

He didn’t say a word as you disappeared down the hallway.

As opposed to last time, his ‘work’ seemed to have not gone too well this time around. At least the last time, he was just tired and feeling lazy.

You could still hear the TV going when you put all your stuff away and crawled into bed.

The next morning, you awoke with a sigh. Sitting up, you stretched until you felt your joints pop.

As you wandered out of your bedroom, you heard the shower going, indicating Shinsou was still around. Not that you were expecting any different.

You fixed a quick, simple breakfast for you and Shinsou, hearing the shower turn off as you finished. Wiping your washed hands on your pants, you made your way to the bathroom.

You only got to knock on the door once before it was yanked open. Suddenly, your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

He stood there, his usual fluffy hair flattened and hanging haphazardly around his face. He wore his usual bored expression despite the fact he was standing there, dripping wet with only a towel around his waist. Immediately, you got a whiff of his body wash and shampoo, making you swallow thickly.

Fuck, he smelled really good. You always thought so, when he sat on the couch beside you, you could always smell that delicious, musky scent of his body wash mixed with the spice of his cologne. But freshly washed with it, you were nearly salivating at the smell.

“Um…” you swallowed thickly, tearing your gaze away from the well built muscles under those baggy clothes he always wore, “B-Breakfast is ready…”

“Okay,” he mumbled, moving to skirt around you.

You sighed, assuming he was still in a shit mood again. Running a hand through your hair, you shook the delectable sight of him fresh out of the shower from your mind. As you went to go back to the kitchen, a large hand grappled around your wrist.

“Hey,” he mumbled. You looked over your shoulder to see him nervously rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you’d seen numerous times before, “I’m sorry...about yesterday.”

“Huh?” you raised a brow, trying to ignore how big his hand was around your wrist.

“I was in a shit mood and I took it out on you,” he explained, “So I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you relaxed slightly and smiled, realizing he was actually in a decent mood today, “It’s okay.”

He gave you his own relieved smile, making your heart lurch in your chest at the sight. It was rare to see any other expression beyond that tired, bored look he always wore. Finally releasing his hold on your wrist, he spoke again, “Let me get dressed and I’ll come eat.”

“Alright,” you nodded, biting your lip as he turned his back to you. As he walked you could see the way the muscles flexed under the skin.

When he finally vanished through his bedroom door, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Shaking your head you moved back to the kitchen intending to stuff your face to forget about how hot Hitoshi Shinsou really was.

Before, you thought he was good looking. Usually dark circles were unbecoming but they looked almost at home on his face. His skin was nearly flawless and looked soft to the touch ― you’d seen the skincare products housed in his cabinet. It was expensive shit too. Seriously, what was the guy's job?

That thought had your mind wandering back to the monthly disappearances.

The chair scraped against the floor as he came back ― wearing a baggy t-shirt and black sweats. He immediately dug in and began to eat.

“So...I have to ask,” he paused, brows coming together in a scowl as you uttered those words.

“Don’t ask,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to ask...if this is a monthly thing. I’ve only been here for 2 so...I just wanted to make sure,” you clarified, watching his shoulder relax. He seemed extremely defensive over any questions related to his ‘job’, you noted.

“Yeah. Once at the end of the month I leave for two days to work,” he answered simply, obviously avoiding giving any more information that you could feed off of.

He was smart at least.

The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the two of you were sitting on the couch watching TV. He had some documentary on but truthfully you weren’t paying a whole lot of attention to it.

For some reason, your mind kept bringing you back to the sight that morning of Shinsou. As you looked at him sitting beside you, arm tossed casually over the back of the couch as he slouched with his legs spread, you found yourself admiring him.

He had a sharp jaw and pretty lips. A look lower, your eyes landed on his hands ― long, pretty fingers with prominent veins beneath the pale skin.

Suddenly, his sharp gaze cut from the TV to you and you found yourself locked in a gaze with him for a split second before you broke away to look at the TV once more. In your peripheral, you swear you saw a smirk crossing his face.

But he didn’t comment and for that, you were thankful.

You bid him goodnight and as usual, he stayed up. You began to wonder if the man even tried to sleep anymore.

You stepped into the bathroom, warning your roommate that you were taking a shower. He shouted back a simple ‘okay’ before you shut the door.

You stepped under the stream of water after stripping, the steam of the hot water filling the bathroom and relaxing your muscles. You tipped your head back to wet your hair, humming to yourself.

You eyed Shinsou’s body wash sitting in the purple caddy handing on a hook on the wall. It brought you back to how nice he smelled when he was close to you. When you could feel his body warmth radiating off of him. You would look at him, his shoulders broad and his body warm and inviting. It was nearly impossible to resist the urge to cuddle yourself into his chest.

You wondered what it would be like to lay against him, his arms wrapped around you as he softly stroked your skin. Maybe he would press a soft kiss to your forehead ― the idea alone made you melt.

Realizing you had lost yourself in thought, you hurried to finish your shower and get to bed.

You fell asleep with Shinsou on your mind that night.

Shinsou’s third monthly work time finally rolled around once again. This time, you stayed up late so Shinsou had no choice but the interact before he left. You were hoping to maybe get more hints about what it is he did.

He shut his bedroom door, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder with a grunt. You were surprised to see him in actual clothes ― rather nice ones as well.

His jeans fit him perfectly and the button down shirt he wore was tucked in, showing off his lean figure. The belt buckle on his jeans indicated it was name brand and you found yourself wondering how much his job even paid.

“I’ll be home same as usual,” he mumbled, bending down to slide his shoes on at the door. He looked so good doing just a simple task and you found your heart racing in your chest. His shoulders were accented so well by his shirt. The sleeves were rolled up halfway on his forearms and there was an expensive looking watch on one of his wrists.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he opened the door ― suddenly finding that you didn’t want him to leave.

“Um…” you called, making him pause in the open door, looking over his shoulder with a brow raised in question, “You...uh…” you struggled to find something to say but he waited patiently for you to form your next words, “Have a nice time...come home soon.”

Your heart thudded painfully as you watched his gaze soften, a smile forming on his lips as he nodded, “I’ll see you later, ______.”

Your ears were ringing as he shut the door, the sound of your name coming from his lips echoing in your head. You sunk down onto the couch, hand on your chest as you came to a startling realization.

You had a crush on your roommate.

Living with Shinsou after coming to terms that you had a crush on him was...difficult to say the least. Simple things he did that you used to pay no mind to, you now found yourself getting jittery at the sight.

Like the way he rubbed his eyes with a fist when he woke up from a nap on the couch, a sound you could only describe as a whine coming from his throat as he sat up.

The day your kitchen sink stopped working and he had to fix it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. He was leaning beneath the sink, in the cabinet on his back as he fiddled with some tools on the pipes. His white t-shirt became see-through as he sweat from the hard work, his biceps flexing with every movement he made. His shirt rode up a bit over his stomach, exposing his abs that moved and rippled with every movement. His sweats were riding low on his hips, exposing that delicious v-line and happy trail that vanished beneath the band.

The worst part was the way you could see everything in those gray sweatpants he wore. You were pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

You had to leave the room and hide in your bedroom with the window open until he finally finished fixing it.

You definitely didn’t let your hand slide down your panties to the mental image of him that night.

Despite living together for nearly four months, you knew close to nothing personal about Shinsou. Putting aside his weird, shady two-day job once a month, you didn’t have anything else to go off of on who he was.

He was a quiet guy who liked documentaries, video games, and had insomnia. He really loved to eat breakfast foods and cats. Although you hadn’t been in his room even once, only had a couple peeks inside, you knew he owned some cat-themed stationary at the very least.

Despite his cold appearance, he was actually quite kindhearted and gentle but seemed to have no desire to show it unless necessary. One time, you cut your finger while cooking and you swear you’d never seen him run faster to get a bandaid from the bathroom ― one with a cat on it, no less.

You still remember the feeling of his hand holding yours and how close his face was as he inspected the cut. You could have leaned in and kissed him so easily then.

And god was that tempting.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the glass you were holding in your hand slipped free until it shattered in a million pieces across the linoleum floor. You gasped, startled as you looked around for a way to escape but a single step in an area you thought was clear brought a cry from your lips as you stepped on the tiny shards.

You heard a loud thump from the living room where he had been playing a video game before the thundering footsteps raced into the kitchen. Shinsou’s eyes were wide, like he was terrified of what he would find.

“Don’t move,” he snapped, noting the way you leaned against the counter to take your injured foot off of the ground. He opened the storage cabinet and pulled out the broom and dust pan.

It took only a few minutes for him to clean it up enough to get to you safely on his own bare feet. Instead of you limping your way to the living room however, you found yourself swept off your feet.

Your heart raced so hard, you could hear it pounding in your ears. You were cradled against his chest, so warm and firm with his strong arms beneath your knees and shoulders. His heavenly scent surrounded you ― more intense than you’d even smelt it before. As you finally got a close look, you took notice of how his long lashes framed his pretty eyes.

All too soon, you were placed on the couch and he was disappearing down the hall with quick efficiency. You were still stunned from being in his arms that you barely noticed he had returned until he was on his knees in front of you.

Immediately, your cheeks bloomed hot with a blush. The image of him on his knees like that immediately sent your mind to a wicked place.

Luckily your dirty mind was stopped in its tracks when he began pulling glass from your foot.

You gasped in pain, attempting to pull away on reflex but he held strong, sharp gaze burning holes into you.

“Sit still,” he growled, sending a shiver down your spine.

His voice was so low, so commanding that you found yourself immediately doing what he said. You always were weak to a dominant man.

Soon enough, your foot was cleaned and he deemed that the bleeding had stopped.

“It’ll probably hurt like hell for a little while when you walk on it,” he warned, packing the first aid away.

“Thanks Hitoshi,” you smiled, earning a soft nod of acknowledgement from the man.

The memory of being in his arms, even for that brief moment, was imprinted in your mind. As you laid in bed, you thought about it. It made your stomach flutter in excitement as you fell asleep.

The fourth monthly job for Shinsou came and unfortunately, you missed him leaving. You had stayed up studying and as a result fell asleep earlier than usual. When you woke up he was already gone and you were left with a painful throb in your heart.

You missed him.

As you lazed on the couch, you found your mind wandering to him again. Like always. It was like your mind was cursed.

You wondered if he thought about you at all. The idea made you feel giddy and you had to bite back a smile. You felt like a silly schoolgirl with your crush ― the way he made your stomach flutter, your heart race, and your cheeks burn was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t like you could confess, he hadn’t given much of a hint that he even thought of you as a friend. Plus, you weren’t sure if you were willing to give up the killer apartment and perfect roommate gig you currently had with a foolish confession.

You heaved a sigh, sitting up with a new idea in mind.

A way that you could learn more about him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the...most noble means.

Standing outside his bedroom door, you bit your lip. It felt wrong to go into his room without permission. It wasn’t like he went into your room ― as far as you knew, who knows what he did while you were at school or working.

The metal doorknob was cold in your palm as you turned it and pushed it open with a soft click.

You’d seen his room in quick glances before when he opened it but you’d never gotten to fully inspect it. He had a large bed that took up the most space in his room. Situated on a dresser at the end of the bed was a TV, a Playstation set up beside it. Against the opposite wall was a desk with a gaming computer setup and a red and black gaming chair pushed in neatly.

There were a few articles of clothing littering the floor around his laundry basket and his closet was partly open to reveal his primarily monochromatic wardrobe choices.

Walking into the bedroom, you immediately got a whiff of his cologne, making you smile at the addictive scent. You took a seat on the edge of his bed, the black comforter incredibly soft beneath your hands.

You leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer, finding nothing too interesting ― a picture of him standing with a smiling boy with crazy green hair, a pink-skinned girl, and a beaming red-haired guy.

You hadn’t really given it much thought ― that he had friends. He didn’t really talk about anyone, in fact you never heard him mention anyone in his life besides his mom a few times. You did note that he texted on his phone quite a lot and sometimes you could hear him laughing and cursing from his bedroom as he played a video game. You wondered what his friends' names were, what they were like ― what it was like to be friends with Shinsou.

What you wouldn’t give to be someone...important in his life.

Sighing, you closed the drawer and moved to his dresser. Your own thoughts caused your heart to ache and you tried to brush it off by looking through the drawers for something interesting.

Fortunately, you got what you wished for.

The last drawer to the right contained a little black metal box buried beneath some clothes. You pulled it out and took a seat on the floor, pressing the button to open it. It popped open and you gaped at what you saw.

It was filled with money. More money than you’d probably ever seen in your whole life. The bills were wrapped together with rubber bands ― there had to be thousands of dollars in even a single stack. As you pulled out the bundles, you found that there were things located beneath them.

Jewels; all types. Diamond rings, necklaces, bracelets, ruby and emerald gems decorating them. You pulled out a ring and held it up, watching as he gleamed under the light.

You tucked everything back inside the box and hid it back the way you found it, shutting the drawer before standing up.

You had no idea what to think as you shut his door once again, moving to your own room. How could he have all that money hidden away like that? It was certainly shady.

Perhaps it was counterfeit? Or maybe he stole it!

And what about those jewels? Did he steal those too? Why were they hidden instead of sold off somewhere?

You had so many questions and absolutely no answers.

Suddenly you were regretting going snooping in his room.

The fifth month of living with him would have to be where things started to go downhill.

He came home from his weekend away, tired and grumpy, just wanting a relaxing shower. However, you hadn’t realized he was home so in your tired, sleep-filled daze you stumbled to the bathroom with the urgent need to pee.

You pushed the bathroom door open and halted in your tracks, heart stopping in your chest at the sight of shirtless Shinsou.

He had his back to you, displaying the angry red scratch marks that raked down the pale skin of his back, making them stand out even more. He realized you were there and spun around, eyes narrowed in a glare. With his chest in view, you could see all the hickeys and bites that trailed down his body, disappearing in the hem of his jeans that he had yet to shed.

“Get the hell out,” he snapped, ripping the door from your hand before slamming in shut in your face.

You stared at the wood for several, long seconds, stunned. You heard the shower start and snapped out of your daze. Forgetting your once desperate need to pee, you trudged back to your bedroom and quietly shut the door.

You weren’t a fool ― you knew exactly what those marks meant. You crawled under the covers and found yourself wondering what kind of woman got Hitoshi Shinsou’s attention enough to get him into bed.

And what did she have that you didn’t?

Truth be told, you couldn’t even imagine him as the type to sleep around. He wasn’t exactly sociable and he rarely seemed to go out of his way to interact even with his friends.

You could hear the shower turn off and you were suddenly reminded of the way he slammed the door in your face ― the ache from realizing he’d been with someone else only exacerbated by the knife of his shouting at you.

You closed your eyes and attempted to sleep, ignoring the sting behind your eyes.

The next morning, you found yourself not wanting to get out of bed. You could hear Shinsou shuffling around the house, doing god knows what. You heard him walk down the hallway, heart freezing as he stopped in front of your bedroom door.

You closed your eyes, willing him to go away.

Luck was not on your side, however, as he knocked thrice on your door. It was loud enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to feign sleeping through it.

You sighed and crawled out of bed and trudged over to the door, pulling it open just a bit to get a look at him.

He had his head down, hand clasped around the nape of his neck with his other hand shoved in his pocket. He looked up when he heard the door open, brows drawn together as he gazed at you partially hiding behind the door.

“I uh…” he cleared his throat, “I went out and picked us up some breakfast.”

“Oh…” you shifted on your feet awkwardly, nodding your head, “Thanks...I’ll eat later.”

You were about to close the door, desperate to escape the burning in your eyes as you remembered last night. Before it could close, however, he shoved his hand in the crack. You paused, not wanting to crush his hand in the door. You let him push it open to show more of you ― clad in shorts and an oversized t-shirt that you loved to sleep in. Thankfully the shirt was big enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell you weren’t wearing a bra.

“I have to apologize,” he grunted, meeting your gaze, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that last night. I was just ticked off…” he trailed off.

You bit your lip, “I uh...I didn’t know you were home...so that’s why I just...walked in…”

He shook his head, “No I understand, really. Y-You just surprised me and I reacted. I really need to stop taking my shit out on you, I’ll work on that, really. I shouldn’t have slammed the door like that either. It was a shit night but it wasn’t your fault you didn’t know I came home.”

“I-It’s alright, Hitoshi, really,” you smiled, though it faltered a bit at the memory of those scratches and hickeys.

“I...hope you’re not hiding away in here because I upset you,” he muttered, making you frown once more.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

He bit his lip, looking away awkwardly, “you’re usually up around 10 and it’s...getting close to noon. You don’t do that normally so...I can only think you were trying to avoid me and that’s the last thing I want. This is your home too and I never want you to feel like you can’t be comfortable here.”

You gaped at him, processing what he was telling you. First, he paid close enough attention to you that he knew what time you got up ― that thought made happiness bloom in your chest and second, that was probably the most you’d heard him say in one sitting.

“It’s okay now, Hitoshi,” you smiled, “let me get dressed and I’ll be out to eat, okay?”

He smiled, making your cheeks burn at the sight as he nodded, turning away from you to move back to the living room. You closed your door and sighed.

It was crazy how just a simple smile from him had your heart fluttering. However, it was quickly halted by the memory that he had someone ― maybe it was a girlfriend. That made your chest ache and you bit your lip to halt those negative feelings as you stripped and changed out of your pajamas.

You had no idea how you were going to get past the painful clench in your chest every time you looked at him now.

Month six rolled around and nothing very interesting happened. Shinsou moved his playstation into the living room so the two of you could play some games together. It was a fun bonding experience and you got to watch the way his eyes would light up whenever he beat you. The sound of his laugh still rang in your ears and you couldn’t help but smile every time you thought back to that pretty smile of his.

It became a weekly thing for the two of you, every Friday night you would sit down on the couch together and play into the early hours of the morning. You got to know more about Shinsou than you had ever before.

Sometimes he would jerk his body and brush against yours, sending goosebumps across your skin. He was always so warm and inviting ― just having him near you sent your poor heart into palpitations.

You almost forgot about what happened the previous month when he came back ― those hickeys and scratches on his back finally having been cast out of your mind.

Your heart did ache when you bid him goodbye the night he left again, wondering if he was going to see her or not.

The seventh month was when that already precariously balanced life came crumbling down all at once.

Shinsou was in the shower as you played on his Playstation, sitting in front of the TV with a frown on your face. You could hear the shower running and in the back of your mind you pictured what he might look like ― water running down his flawless skin, his hands caressing. You felt an almost pitiful clench in your core at the mental image.

Your perversions were cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. You paused your game and groaned as you stood up, your knees popping from being sat in the same position for too long. Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and paused.

A woman stood on the other side of the door, a well-fitting black dress and fur coat wrapped around her shoulders. Her ears, neck, and wrists were adorned with sparkling jewelry and you could see the red bottoms of her expensive heels. She wore vibrant red lipstick across pretty, smiling lips as she acknowledged you. However, you could see the cold gleam in her eyes that made the smile all too fake.

“Can I help you?” you asked, leaning against the door jam.

She hummed, tucking some hair behind her ear with perfectly manicured nails, “Is Toshi here?”

“Toshi?” you raised a brow at the nickname, “He’s in the shower. What do you need?”

“Just to talk,” she replied, stepping forward like she wanted to come in. When you didn’t budge she raised a brow, “You don’t mind if I come in, right? I’m sure Toshi would love to see me.”

“Uh…” you didn’t get a chance to reply as she brushed past you, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as she made her way towards the living room, “Sure...come on in…” you whispered sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you shut the door.

You could hear the shower was turned off, indicating Shinsou would be returning in a minute. You looked at the woman as she glanced around the apartment, feeling a sting of jealousy burning within you.

Was she the girl he was dating?

“So...how do you know Hitoshi?” you asked, making her smile.

“I’m his girlfriend, of course!” she beamed, voice far too peppy for your liking.

The words sent an arrow through your heart and you looked away with a hum, ignoring the need to flee to your room and cry into the pillow like a stupid middle schooler.

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Shinsou strolled down the hall, towling his hair as he moved.

Any other time you would have drooled over the sight of a shirtless Shinsou, gym shorts hanging loose on his hips as he walked.

“Uh...Hitoshi…” you mumbled, getting his attention.

He looked up from beneath his towel, meeting your gaze before his eyes moved to the woman beside you. Immediately his eyes went wide and he stood up straight.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, startling you with how aggressive those words came out.

The girl didn’t seem too affected, merely pouting as she spoke, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You have no business being here,” he growled, jerking his head to the door, “Get out.”

“No!” she argued, walking right up to him, “I deserve answers before you throw me away like trash, Hitoshi!”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he replied coldly, breezing past both you and her to go to the kitchen. She followed him but you remained in the kitchen, listening as they argued.

“Why won’t you see me anymore?!” she cried, petulantly stomping her heeled foot.

“Because you got too damn attached,” he spat, opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water before walking into the living room again.

“Attached?!” she gasped, grabbing his arm to force him to look at her, “I have given you so much. How can you just break it off without a real reason! Come on, Toshi, just...be with me, you won’t have to work anymore.”

He tensed, glancing over at you at the mention of her job, jaw set, “Just get out, Kana.”

She looked over at you, a sly smile forming on her lips, “She doesn’t know what you do, does she? Is that why you’re avoiding this?”

He didn’t reply, simply glared at her. Kana scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “After all I spent on you, you have no right to just run away. You know I can treat you better than anyone else can, Hitoshi. You’re making a mistake.”

“I have plenty of other clients lined up, Kana,” he shot back, making her frown. He chuckled at the sign of weakness she showed, “What? Did you think you were the only one? No, sweetheart, I have plenty of girls waiting to spend even just one night with me. You’re not special. You’re certainly not the highest paying one either. There’s nothing of importance tying me to you. You have nothing special to offer. You got too attached, starting having feelings for me...you know it would never work with my job. So just leave before you get your feelings hurt.”

Both of you were stunned silent. You because you had never heard him speak so coldly and harshly to someone before ― even when he was having a bad day and accidentally took it out on you. Her because the words he spat out with such venom wrecked her pride and made her burn with anger.

She clenched her fists and snapped her head towards you, “Best not to get close to this prick,” she warned, her voice watery with unshed tears, “A man who makes money being a sugar baby isn’t one you want to get attached too.”

With those last words, she stormed out. The slam of the door made both you and Shinsou flinch. The silence that followed was even more deafening, however.

Shinsou cursed under his breath, running a hand through his half-dry hair.

“So...she wasn’t your girlfriend?” you asked, making him look over at you.

He was quiet for a second before chuckling under his breath, “You learn what my job is and that's the first thing you wonder?”

“Well!” you defended yourself quickly, “She introduced herself as your girlfriend!”

He shook his head, moving around the couch to take a seat, “No, she was just...a client I spent time with for a while. She started catching feelings so I cut it off and referred her to a friend of mine. Apparently...she didn’t like that.”

“How’d she know you lived here?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He shrugged, “She could have looked through my shit at some point, I suppose.”

You hummed, not wanting to push him to reveal more than he wanted to. After all, it wasn’t even his choice to expose his line of work anyway.

Well, at least you had answers on why he had all those expensive clothes, cash, and jewelry. It was good to know he wasn’t some type of shady thief in the end.

“It’s...just a really bad idea to get involved with clients,” he explained suddenly, “It’s not a relationship that’s built up on anything real. Having to pay for the company of someone is not a good foundation,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again before looking at you, “I hope you...don’t think differently of me because of my job.”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, “It’s not really my place to judge you, you know?”

“Thanks,” he smiled, “It’s not really something that’s as bad as people think. It gets a bad rep for having sex for money and shit but...truthfully majority of my job is just...being company to rich women. Sometimes they want to take me around to some fancy parties to show me off or go on dates because they’re lonely. Sex isn’t the majority of what I do. I mean...I will but...it’s not the most common occurrence.”

Once again, the vision of those hickeys and sex-scratches crossed your mind and you found yourself wondering what kind of woman gave him those. At least you could be assured he wasn’t going out to see his girlfriend when he went to work ― they were strictly clients.

Which meant...he was probably single.

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the hopeful idea.

“How about I order some take out?” you asked, standing up to retrieve your phone.

“Get some pizza,” he called as you disappeared down the hall.

After his occupation was revealed to you, things began to look up. He became more open and carefree around you ― as he no longer had a big secret to hide. He didn’t really talk about his work but he wasn’t hiding it from you either.

You decided not to ask too many questions, knowing you’d only burn up in jealousy at the idea. You knew you didn’t really have a right to be jealous since you weren’t his girlfriend or anything but you couldn’t help it either.

The peaceful feeling didn’t last long, however. Once the fire started burning, it had no other choice but to rage.

“You should really just tell him, _____!” your friend, Uraraka whined, head against the table.

“It’s seriously painful,” Momo agreed, “All this pining is making me sick.”

“Oh real nice,” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee.

It felt nice to hang around with your friends for once ― it wasn’t something you frequently got the opportunity to do.

Just as Uraraka was about to open her mouth and reply, a looming shadow dropped over the table. You all looked over to find the familiar blonde hair and wide grin.

“Kaminari,” you greeted with a smile.

“Hey _____,” he waved before tucking his hands in his pockets, “Listen, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while but...would you like to go out with me sometime?”

The question left you stunned.

You weren’t super close to Denki Kaminari, you shared a few general studies classes. He was a goofy, excitable guy who always seemed to know how to light up a room. Everyone around him was always in a good mood, in general he was just a very positive person.

Not just that but he wasn’t too bad to look at either; with his pretty, wide eyes and sharp jawline. The black lightning bolt streak through his hair just made him look even more charming.

But you hesitated, your mind drifting to Shinsou.

Sighing, you bit your lip, “Can I get back to you on that?”

He smiled, nodding his head, obviously relieved you didn’t tell him a flat out no, “No problem. I’ll see you later!”

Once he was gone, a sharp smack landed on your back making you cry out.

“Why didn’t you give him an answer?!” Momo cried.

“Denki’s a great guy, _____! You should do it!” Uraraka added.

You shrugged, “It’s just…”

“If you’re holding out hoping something will miraculously happen with stupid Shinsou, it’s a stupid idea,” Momo said, making you pout that she had read you so easily.

“Just tell him how you feel, _____,” Uraraka sighed, “If he rejects you, you can accept Denki’s date!”

You sighed but didn’t reply. Your two friends shared a look before changing the topic, drawing the attention away from your hopeless crush on your roommate.

When you got home, you were filled with a sense of urgency. Shinsou wasn’t in the living room so you went to his bedroom, knocking a few times on the door before he opened it.

“Hey,” he greeted, a tired smile on his face, “Welcome home.”

“Hitoshi,” you swallowed thickly, steeling yourself.

He frowned, “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed.

“Okay,” he stepped aside, waving you into his room.

You hesitated for a second, realizing that there would be no turning back once you walked inside. The door shutting behind you echoed in your head. He moved past you to take a seat on his computer chair. The screen was lit up behind him, indicating he had probably been playing something before you interrupted.

“I’m all ears,” he said softly, relaxing back in his seat.

“I…” you shifted on your feet, biting your lip, “I got asked out on a date.”

He raised his brow, cocking his head to the side. Part of you had hoped you would see some hint of jealousy from him at your words but his face remained as steely as ever.

“And...you want advice or something?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “I want to know if…” you took in a deep breath, “If you like me before I accept him.”

He was silent for what felt like an eternity, just staring at you. Shinsou was always the type of man to think before he spoke, running through all possibilities before opening his mouth. His throat moved as he swallowed, a soft sigh coming from his nose.

“You...have a crush on me, or something?” he asked, making you deflate slightly.

“Yes,” you admitted, “And...if you don’t like me back then I’ll accept this boy’s date. There’s no reason for me to wait around and hope you’ll like me back when I could be out meeting someone new.”

He nodded his head, quieting once more. You watched as he stood up, taking a few steps towards you, “_____…” you heart clenched at his tone, knowing what was coming, “My job...it doesn’t leave me room for personal relationships.”

Despite how much you prepared yourself for it, hearing him reject you hurt. You nodded, forcing yourself not to cry as you backed up towards the door.

“Alright then,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile, turning your back to him, “I guess I’ll accept Kaminari’s date then.”

As you walked out his door, you didn’t see the pained look in his eyes. Your name lingered on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t dare speak out. The click of his door was deafening in his ears and when you were gone he sighed, hanging his head as he sat on the edge of his bed, feeling like an idiot.

The next day, you hunted down Kaminari, telling him you’d love to go out on a date with him. He was thrilled, going off excitedly about how he couldn’t believe you actually accepted him and that he would make it the best date ever.

And truth be told, the date was a blast. You had told him you’d never been to laser tag before and immediately he said that was exactly what you do then. The sound of Denki’s laughter still echoed in your ears as he lost to you, accusing you of cheating in a lighthearted tone.

You didn’t see much of Shinsou after you started seeing Kaminari. Although it was casual, you spent a good bit of time hanging out with him ― he began eating with you, Uraraka, and Momo on campus and the two of you texted often.

It seemed that Shinsou wasn’t making a big effort to hang out with you anyway. As much as that hurt, you knew it was for the best. It spared you a lot of hurt and him of the awkwardness of living with a girl who had a crush on him.

It was fair enough, you mused.

But when you laid in bed at night, your phone on silent and the faint sound of Shinsou’s voice floating through the walls as he gamed with his friends, you felt the now familiar tug on your heart. You longed to be with him.

But you knew it was pointless now.

You’d been seeing Kaminari for a month when he showed up on your doorstep to pick you up. Usually you would leave and meet him but due to the rain, he opted to pick you up and save you both from the hassle.

You were in your room, putting the final touches on your makeup when the doorbell rang. Before you could react, you heard Shinsou open the door.

You quickly grabbed your purse, tossing the strap over your shoulder as you opened your door. You could hear their voices carrying down the hallway.

“Holy shit!” Kaminari laughed, “What a small world ― it’s been a while Hitoshi!”

“Denki,” Shinsou greeted curtly.

“You ______’s roommate?” Kaminari asked, tucking his hands in his pockets as he waited for you, “She’s talked about you a bit. Didn’t know it was you, though, man!”

“Denki―” Shinsou was about to say something more but was cut off by your entrance.

“Hey there babydoll!” Kaminari greeted with a grin, holding his hand out for you to take, “See you later, Hitoshi!”

Shinsou didn’t respond as he watched the two of you leave, his jaw set tight as he held himself back from calling out.

You felt like you’d never been more angry in your life as you stormed home. Things had been going so well between you and Kaminari, you felt like you could genuinely start to like him. You enjoyed his company and began to think less and less about one purple haired roommate of yours.

You slammed the front door, startling poor Shinsou on the couch. He turned around, eyes wide at the blazing anger visible on your face.

“What the hell is your problem, Shinsou?!” you cried, kicking your shoes off and tossing your backpack to the floor.

“Huh?” he raised a brow dumbly, only fanning the flames of your rage.

“You…” you heaved, fists clenched, “Who do you think you are?! Telling Denki to break it off with me?!”

Realization quickly flashed over his face and he groaned, standing up, “I didn’t tell him to break up with you!” he argued. You opened your mouth to retort but he put his hand up to stop you, “I just told him to think it over. Do you know how we know each other, ____?”

“No,” you shook your head, tossing your hands up, “What does it matter? You still have no right to interfere in my relationship!”

“He’s in the same line of work I am!” he snapped, rounding the couch, “He does the same exact thing I do.”

You paused, letting the information sink in, “Why does that matter?”

He shook his head, “Do you really want to be with a guy who spends his nights in bed with women, _____? That’s not exactly the easiest job to trust a man with.”

You didn’t have a retort, “I thought...the majority of the job was just being a companion.”

Shinsou sighed, taking a seat once more, “It really depends on the guy. Denki is pretty popular because he loves to get his dick wet.”

You thought those words would make you feel jealous. The idea of the guy you were seeing fucking other women should make you feel something but instead...you felt almost relieved. Still, it didn’t simmer the anger you felt towards Shinsou at putting his nose in your business.

“You should have come to me and told me your concerns, Shinsou,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, “Instead of going behind my back for me to be dumped.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, biting his lip, “I just...wanted to see if Denki was still the same as he was when I last knew him. It’s just how it happened. I am sorry.”

Sensing his apology was sincere, you relaxed and nodded, “I’ve got to study.”

With that, you hid away in your room.

You couldn’t deny you still felt a bit ticked off with him but at least you were able to move past it. You realized you weren’t truly attached to Kaminari, you were just using him to shove your feelings for Shinsou away ― a pretty dick move on your part. So you were relieved to be out of the relationship.

Unfortunately, this left you with Shinsou once more. Where he once was pushed from your mind for the most part, he now resumed plaguing your thoughts.

You couldn’t deny how tired you were.

It was emotionally exhausting feeling your heart race at the mere sight of him only for it to ache when you remembered there was no chance in hell he’d even give you the time of day.

Things reached a head when he returned from work. Eleven months in and all the negative feelings and tension finally culminated.

“Hey Shinsou,” you called, finding him leaning against the kitchen island with a cereal bar in his hands.

He looked over his shoulder, an unusually cold look in his eyes as he regarded you, “What?”

You tried not to flinch at the tone, frowning, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he snapped and you sighed, realizing he was in one of his moods, “What do you want?”

“I...nevermind,” you shrugged, “We’ll talk when you’re in a better mood.”

You hadn’t meant for it to be something to piss him off further. You truly meant that you would wait until he felt better to talk. For some reason, however, he took it wrong.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled, pushing himself off of the counter to storm up to you.

“Nothing!” you defended, “I don’t want to get into anything with you, okay?”

“If you have something to say then just say it!” he snapped, making you shake your head.

“No!” you argued, turning on your heel to storm into your bedroom.

Before you could get very far, however, a tight hand was wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back.

“Don’t fucking run from me!” his tone sent shivers down your spine, the angry fire burning in his eyes finally snapping something inside you.

“I am so fucking tired of this!” you tore your arm from his grip, not missing the frustrated grunt he gave in response, “This shit isn’t working anymore, Shinsou! You clearly don’t know what the hell to do with yourself; you come home from working and you’re in a shit mood and you take it out on me. Then you act like everything is perfectly fine. You know how I feel about you, so you can’t even pretend that doesn’t have anything to do with your behavior. In fact, I know it affects you because why else would you have convinced the only guy I’ve seen in the past like two years to dump me like trash! All over this stupid fucking job of yours. I don’t want to deal with the shitty way you make me feel, Shinsou!”

“So?” he snapped, teeth bared.

“So I’m gonna fucking move out!” you threatened, standing nose to nose with him.

His eyes narrowed and he let out a humourless laugh, “Fine! The sooner the better!”

With those last words he stormed past you, slamming his bedroom door with deafening finality.

You were left alone in the living room, fists clenched as tears you’d held back so long finally broke free.

A stupid purple haired idiot was not worth being hurt so much over. That you were sure of.

It’s not like he even cared, apparently.

With that thought finally pushing you into action, you returned to your own room to begin looking for new housing.

In all your time living with him, the longest you went without seeing him was two days. Once a month when he went to work ― that was the only length of time you didn’t see him every day.

Now, however, the two of you were avoiding each other like the plague. You had been busting your ass finding a new apartment, going to school, and working as usual. Shinsou had been hiding in his room the majority of the time.

You even stopped cooking.

Part of you wondered if he even noticed. Deep down, however, you knew he probably didn’t care.

He would just get a new roommate and go on like usual. Like you had never existed.

At least you’d be able to get over him then.

It took a month before you found a decent place. It was nowhere near as nice as your current one but there was nothing you could do about that. Your situation with Shinsou was unique and you knew you were never gonna have an opportunity like this again.

You came to terms with that.

Wandering out of your room, you were surprised to find him sitting on the couch. His nose was buried in his phone but the TV played his usual shows.

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your voice even. He grunted in response, not looking up, “I found a place. I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

He didn’t say anything and you sighed, feeling your eyes burn.

How you wished he would say something to stop you ― to show you that the past year wasn’t a huge waste of time and that you really meant nothing to him. You felt you could have at least called yourselves friends but...apparently that was one sided.

The thought hurt so you escaped to your room once again to hide.

The night before your move, you were laying in bed playing a game on your phone. Laying on your back, you held the screen up and tapped your thumbs aggressive against the screen. Your momentum was lost by three sharp knocks on your door. You cried out as your phone fell from your hand and dropped on your face.

“Shit,” you groaned, tossing it away and getting up from bed.

Opening the door, your words caught in your throat at the sight of Hitoshi Shinsou’s sleepy gaze fixated on you. His hand was clasped around the nape of his neck and he was looking away nervously.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” his head snapped towards you, eyes wide before you realized how that sounded, “I-I mean I thought you were supposed to be gone! You know...to work.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he shrugged, “I cancelled. I...wanted...no, I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?”

You stood there for a few seconds, thinking it over before stepping aside to let him in. He gave you a tight lipped smile before you shut the door behind him. Turning to face him, you took note of the way his free hand was shoved into his sweats pocket. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

“What...what did you need?” you asked, sitting on the edge of your bed.

He remained standing, obviously thinking over his words carefully. His back was to you, his figure hunched slightly in his usual posture. But you couldn’t miss the tension his form held.

“I never intended this to become a long-term thing,” for a moment you thought he was talking about your living arrangement but before you could refute, he was turning to you, “This sugar baby thing, that is. I had a friend who did it and made some good money from it and eventually I got into the scene and realized just how good it could pay. It’s been like 2 or 3 years now since I’ve been at it.”

He dropped his hand from around his neck, beginning to pace around your room to gaze at your various knick-knacks. He paused at the few boxes you had packed up already, a frown marring his face.

“I make even more money by selling the presents I get. Sometimes the clients will give me jewelry or clothes, I always sell them,” he sighed, picking up a snow globe that sat atop your dresser, shaking it mindlessly to watch the fake snow float around the glass.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

“The truth is, I hate the majority of my job,” he confessed, ignoring your question, “Most of the people are pretentious assholes who think they’re better than me because they pay me. I don’t mind being arm candy, it doesn’t really bother me. And not gonna lie sometimes the sex is bomb,” he chuckled almost lifelessly and you ignored the pang in your chest at his words, “But the position I’m in forces me to basically do whatever they want me to. Naturally, I have limits and shit but if they want to dominate me I let them and that sucks.”

“Hitoshi,” you grumbled, making him look at you, “Why are you telling me about your sexual preferences?”

“Oh right…” he shook his head, “I hate doing it because I don’t have much control in my life because of it,” he looked at you with fierce eyes, “That’s why...I want to say fuck it.”

Before you could respond, he was walking up to you, cupping your cheek in a warm hand. Your eyes were wide, staring up at him as he moved close to you, his lips brushing yours.

“It’s been so fucking painful letting you go,” he whispered, “Having to reject you and let you go out with fucking Denki nearly broke me down, not gonna lie. I didn’t want him to hurt you, that’s why I interfered...but I also...didn’t want to let him have you when I wanted you so damn bad myself.”

Your heartbeat stuttered as you stared up at him, wide eyed, “D-Does that mean you…”

He nodded, “Shit, I’ve liked you for so long, _____. It’s been so hard not telling you how I feel every single day.”

“Hitoshi,” you likced your lips, reaching up to fist the front of his shirt. He hummed before you spoke again, “Please kiss me.”

There was a quick flash of his smile before his lips met yours ― every bit as soft as you expected them to be. You could faintly taste toothpaste on his lips but you didn’t mind one bit, he probably tasted the same from you.

His hand moved from your cheek to your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own hands moved around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

You quickly found yourself on your back, his hand wandering up the hem of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach. You whimpered, fisting his hair as you kept him locked in a kiss. He didn’t seem to mind, simply sighing against your lips.

You still had questions but you couldn’t bear the thought of stopping this so you tucked them into the back of your mind, devoting yourself to what was right in front of you.

Shinsou sat up just slightly, breaking the kiss. You almost whined but the feeling of his hand creeping upwards towards your bare breast stopped you.

“Is this okay?” he asked for your consent, pausing before he actually touched you.

“Very,” you breathed, tugging him back down for another kiss.

Immediately, he cupped your breast, thumbing your already erected nipple. You gasped into his mouth, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Sensitive?” he asked, pecking your lips before suddenly sitting back.

This time you did whine at the loss. He flashed you a fond smile before pushing the hem of your shirt up to your neck, revealing your chest to his greedy eyes.

“D-Don’t just stare,” you complained, feeling your cheeks burn as he admired your body.

“Sorry,” he replied insincerely, cupping your breast once more, “You have such pretty tits, you know? I couldn’t help it.”

You scoffed but it turned into a choked gasp as he enveloped your pert bud in his hot mouth, wet tongue lashing against it before he pulled away with a firm suck. You wrapped your hands in those soft, purple tresses and whined. His other hand came up to pinch your other nipple, making sure to give it just as much attention.

“Toshi…” you whined, tugging his hair until he pulled away, his lips swollen.

“What is it, baby?” he hummed, nosing at your neck to press soft kisses there.

“T-Take your shirt off,” you breathed, tugging at the hem until you were able to pull it over his head with a bit of assistance.

Once he was as shirtless as you, your hands began to wander to touch every bit of skin you had long to for so long. He let you explore, letting out a soft sigh when you brushed over one of his hardened nipples. You didn’t linger in one place for long, quickly growing too curious at the sight of his member straining against those damn sweatpants he always wore.

His head tipped back as you palmed him through the fabric, quickly noticing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Eagerly, you dipped your fingers beneath the hem and pulled his cock free, your fingers not even able to touch once wrapped around.

He was thick, a curve to his length that you just knew would hit a certain spot inside of you that would make you lose your mind. The head was a flushed red color, leaking precum that you used to give him a couple easy strokes.

He reached down, grabbing your wrist to stop you before slipping his own hand down the hem of your shorts and panties.

Your hips bucked the second his fingers made contact with your folds ― already dripping wet and coating his digits generously. He gave a few soft circles to your clit, testing your sensitivity before finding the pressure that had you cunt clenching around nothing.

You whined, grinding your hips against his touch in hopes he’d slip at least one of those long fingers into you. Thankfully, you were granted your wish and more as he easily slid his middle and ring fingers in.

He groaned as you walls tightly clenched around him, trying to desperately pull him back in whenever he pulled them out slightly.

“Feel good?” he breathed, already knowing the answer but craving your praise.

“So good,” you whimpered, biting your lip. He curled his fingers suddenly, nailing that sweet, spongy spot on your upper wall, “Right there!” you gasped.

He grinned, massaging that one pleasure-point with vigor, “Yeah? Right there, kitten?”

You keened at the name, walls clenching. He groaned at the feeling, suddenly pulling his hand free from your shorts. You didn’t have time to complain before he was tugging the remaining articles down your legs to toss away.

He moved with practice expertise, grabbing you beneath the thighs to pin them open. Your wet cunt was exposed to his all too greedy eyes. He licked his lips at the sight, making your cheeks burn.

Before you knew it, he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, tugging you down just a bit so your ass was almost hanging off the edge. The position left you completely at his mercy. He knew it too.

You watched with bated breath as he spread your folds open ― revealing the shiny, pink hole that continuously dripped your arousal. It clenched beneath his leering gaze and he groaned.

“Fuck!” you squealed when he dove forward to wrap his lips around your hardened clit.

He hummed at your taste, sending vibrations through the little bud. He quickly abandoned that in favor of getting a full taste of your juices. Tonguing your entrance, he reveled in how tight you were around his tongue.

You reached down, tanging your fingers in his hair as he ate you with all he had. His tongue worked expertly to circle your clit before dipping back down to your hole once again.

“Please, put your fingers in,” you begged, desperate to be filled.

He quickly obliged, slipping two long digits into your clenched pussy before mouthing over your clit eagerly. He could already feel you clenching sporadically around him and he couldn’t resist setting a quick pace, hammering against your sweet spot with every movement.

Your muscles were taught as you felt that glorious high building up. Soft pleas left your lips as your back arched.

“Gonna cum, kitten?” he tasted, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Y-Yeah!” you sobbed, abandoning your hold on his hair to tear at your blankets ― not wanting to hurt him in your throes of pleasure.

“Cum then,” the casual way he said those words flicked a switch and you were cumming.

He groaned through your high, feeling your cunt spasm around him. He felt your cum gush from around his digits, soaking them as you clit throbbed beneath the pad of his tongue. Once your body began to relax, he pulled away.

Your thighs slammed shut once he was out of the way, your muscles trembling through the intense aftershocks. While you were coming down, he stripped himself of his sweats, popping his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth with a groan as he fisted his cock to the sight of you trembling.

The fact he made you cum so hard was a boost to his ego and he didn’t bother fighting the prideful grin on his face. Sweat coated your skin and made your hair stick to your neck.

After several seconds, he climbed onto the bed and maneuvered you so your head was in the pillows. You bit your lip and grinned slyly at him as he climbed onto the bed.

“Shit uh…” he looked around your room quickly, a frown on his lips. You looked up at him curiously before he explained, “Condom?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “D-Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” he gaped down at you.

You shrugged, “I’m on the pill and well...I’m sure you use condoms with you...job, right?”

“Always,” he blinked.

“Then…” you wiggled your hips at him with a cheeky grin.

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Reaching between the two of you, he gripped his cock and tapped the head of it against your folds. Your thighs jumped as he slapped lightly against your sensitive clit.

Finally, he began to press into you and your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch his cock gave you. He clenched his teeth, letting you soft groans as he sunk more of his length into you. Your walls gripped him so tightly, spasming and clenching as he was fully seated within you.

The two of you had to pause before continuing, the feeling of him filling you up too much. His cock was thick, making you feel like he was stuffing you full.

“Please,” you begged, fisting the pillows on either side of your head as he sat back on his heels.

Gazing between your thighs, he nearly lost it at the sight of your cunt stretched tight to accommodate him. He thumbed over your clit, receiving a sharp cry from your lips.

“Fuck...you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, circling his hips against yours with a groan, “I can feel you clenching so tight around me. Bet you wanna cum again, huh?”

“Yes!” you cried quickly, mouth agape as he gave a sudden thrust, “Please make me cum!”

He shushed you, rubbing his thumbs over your hips, “Don’t worry, kitten, I got you...I’ll get you there.”

Before you could respond, he was setting an almost brutal pace. You always imagined what Shinsou would be like in bed ― you pictured it too many times at night. Sometimes you imagined he would take it slow with deep, intense thrusts. Other times you’d picture exactly this; rough, harsh thrusts that you were sure were going to leave you sore when the morning came.

You had no complaints though.

Hitoshi gripped you beneath your knees, pinning your legs to your chest as he fucked you. Your cunt gushed around him, making lewd, wet noises reverberate around the room and mingle with your mixed moans. He let out groans of pleasure, strands of purple hair sticking to his forehead.

You couldn’t help but admire the sight of him ― muscles rippling and moving with the force of his thrusts. Reaching up, you pulled him closer against you, dragging your nails across his shoulder blades.

He winced but you felt his cock twitch at the pinch of pain inflicted as a result. You thought back to what you saw that one night ― the marks some random woman left on his body. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to mark him as yours.

Catching him by surprise, you managed to flip him over, straddling his waist, using his strong chest as leverage to fuck yourself on his thick cock. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper, almost hitting your cervix every time you sunk down on him. He gripped your hips, assisting your movements as he tossed his head back into the pillows.

“Shit, that’s it, kitten,” he praised, reaching up to pinch one of your nipples.

You keened at the praise, leaning down to deliver a sharp bite against his shoulder, sucking at the skin until a bright red mark bloomed. You eyed it proudly, biting your lip as you ground against his cock, making sure your clit got the attention it needed.

Shinsou bucked into you, making you whine as he started a steady pace of bouncing. Your thighs burned but it was worth the sight of having him beneath you. The way he stared up at you, as if you were a goddess made your heart race.

“Toshi…” you whined, leaning back to steady yourself on his thighs as he started to thrust up into you.

“What is it, babygirl?” he grunted, gripping your hips tightly as he fucked his thick cock into your gushing cunt.

“Make me cum, please!” you begged, biting your lip.

He grinned, bringing his thumb to his lips to lick the pad of it, “I got you, baby.”

Before you could think of a response, he was circling his thumb around your clit, the bud desperate for attention. Your body tensed with just a few quick circles of his thumb, his cock angled against your g-spot so perfectly that you immediately reached your high.

Through your own cries of pleasure, you heard him moaning alongside you before he froze, his cock buried deep inside you as he came. His cock throbbed and pulsed with every jet of hot cum he released into your clenching walls.

All at once, things stilled. You both relaxed against each other. His cock was still stuffed inside you, softening as his cum leaked out around him to make a mess between the two of you. You laid your head against his chest, his large hand cupping the back of it, pressing soft kisses against your forehead until your heartbeats finally slowed to a reasonable pace.

“Let’s take a bath, baby,” he groaned as he sat up, keeping you secure in his lap.

You were surprised he could carry you so easily after he nearly fucked the very life out of you.

Soon enough, you found yourself surrounded by sweet-smelling water with a fucked-out Shinsou cuddling against your back.

“Not to...ruin this afterglow bliss,” you hummed, leaning back against him as the warm water ripped around you, “But what brought this confession on suddenly? I thought you said your job doesn’t allow room for relationships.”

He was quiet for several, long seconds before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, “I didn’t think it was fair to let myself be with you when I was going out once a month to hang around with a bunch of women. It isn’t something I want to put you through.”

“So you’re going to quit?” you asked.

He nodded, “I probably won’t be able to make enough money to keep this place but...if it means I can have you without feeling like shit about hurting you, then yeah. It’ll be worth it, I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you just…” you bit your lip, pausing.

“What?” you questioned, gripping your chin to make you look at him, “Talk to me.”

You hummed, “Just stop with the sex and kissing stuff...just be arm candy, like you said. Hang out with them. They’ll still pay for that, right?”

He raised a brow, shifting so he could look better at your face, “You’d be okay with me going to hang out with a bunch of women who want nothing more than to sit on my dick?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat, your cheeks burning, “As long as only I get to sit on your dick then it’ll be fine. I trust you, Hitoshi.”

He was quiet once again before a smile fell across his lips, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips, “We’ll talk more about it later. Let’s just relax.”

He tucked you against his chest, leaning back against the porcelain of the tub. With his fingers caressing across your skin, you allowed yourself to drift off ― finally wrapped up in those damn arms you dreamed of.

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha smut #shinsou smut #afton.writes

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Note

Hi its me again from the comments😋you said if i wanted a part 2 for 'you want to sleep on the floor' i should put it in your asks i dont know if you write nsfw but could you put some in it the rest is up to you😊btw i love your writing so much the fluff that your write just literally brightens my day and remeber i love you🥺 and you are an awsome person🥰😅

part two: “you want to sleep on the floor”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: pro hero bakugo, university student y/n, fluff, language and nsfw (protected sex, praise, hella jaw grabbing, nipple play, hickies, bruises, female receiving oral, dacryphilia)

word count: 5400+

a/n: please don’t ask how this became so long lmao and thank you so much bby i’m glad you like it and your an even more amazing person and i love you moree

summary: in which bakugo takes you on that date he promised you and leads your roommate to be the one to hear all the moans and screams

part one

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The stress you had gone through all day to find an outfit, even if it had been hours since waking up. Your mind still went back to last night, the kisses against your neck and mouth from Bakugo. You had seen him leave from your apartment when you had been drinking some coffee on the balcony. Even if it had been cold, you didn’t care, leaning against the frosted top as you watched him leave. He had seemed to be in a rush, either going to the gym or he had work. You assumed the latter but even then he seemed agitated himself.

Having finished some uni stuff as soon as you could, you found yourself in front of your wardrobe. Unable to decide on the clothes you had, you found yourself peeking into your roommates room, the smell of sex lingering and the used condom chucked into the bin. “You need help deciding what to wear?”

She hadn’t even looked up at you, exes fixated on her laptop as she continued to type onto Word. “How did you know?”

“I heard the swears.” She muttered to your early fucks and shits at how everything you owned looked horrendous on you. “I have that red dress.”

You already knew what dress she was talking about, the long-sleeved wine-coloured dress that went right up to your mid-thigh. She looked up from the laptop, watching at how you easily wore it in front of her, the square neck holding your chest as you looked gorgeous. “I knew it’d look good on you; I may dislike Bakugo...but just have fun tonight.”

Nodding at her, you gave a swift thanks before walking back to your own room, staring at your blank face. Memories surging of how easily you and Bakugo had confessed to each other, his soft kisses and hands on your body. You could almost feel his fingers skim across your thighs, around your chest and up your neck right to your mouth. You hesitatingly got ready, checking the clock every possible minute, you were anxious to say the least.

What if last night was all just a mistake? What if he didn’t really want you? What if this ‘date’ was him using you? You went against this all, feeling relieved at the sound of the taps to the door. Grabbing your phone and keys you almost ran towards the door but calmed yourself down after your roommate gave a glare to your excitement.

Opening the door softly, you saw Bakugo lean against his own door. The maroon shirt tucked into his jeans as his tall stature finally laid eyes on you. His mouth twitched upwards in a smile, looking at you with such warmth. “You look amazing.”

You could almost feel the roll of your roommate's eyes. Ignoring it as you look down at yourself not meeting his eyes. “Thanks, yo...you look really good too.” You had gotten shy in a matter of seconds, his soft gaze lingering across your body before staying right on your face. How could you not resist his smirk, resist his hand that he had put out for you to take.

“Take it then.” He muttered before feeling your hand against his own, he had a fear that his quirk could activate in a matter of seconds due to his nervousness. You closed the door and felt secluded with his gaze on you, “don’t start getting nervous with me now, I do remember last night.”

You looked at him, almost cowering but he brought you closer to his body, his arm moving to around your shoulder. “I’m not nervous.”

“Sure you aren't, baby, come on our dinner reservation is in 20 minutes.” He started to walk with his arm still around you, keeping you tightly beside him.

“Where are we going?” You questioned through the elevator ride down. He looked down at you leaning against the railing with a smirk.

He mocked, “what? Don’t like surprises?”

You look up to him, almost leaning into his arm more, “I do, but you could take me anywhere.”

“I’m not going to murder you, dumbass.” He chuckled tilting his head backwards, you admired his cockiness and joking manner. “There’s this restaurant, Kiri told me about this morning, I thought you’d like it.”

“Aww did it make you think of me?” You tease out starting to get more comfortable again.

He grabs your waist tighter, bringing his mouth to linger at your ear, “why? Have you been thinking of me?”

“N...no.” It was an obvious lie, and he could see through it so easily. His mouth kissed along the back of your ear down to your jaw as his hand moved from around your shoulders to your neck.

“You were never this shy before.” He whispered continuing to kiss down your neck before the ding of the elevator clicked making you both fall out.

His words were true, you were never this shy, even with one night stands you were able to easily flirt with men to get them into bed. You grabbed his wrist pushing him back into the elevator, “I’m not shy.” You muttered before bringing your lips to his own, he was startled by the action, the girl who had looked at him with anxiety had kissed him with such haste. The way your hands moved to his face bringing him closer to your body.

Your tongue flicked inside his mouth, gliding with his own as your spit and saliva mixed with his own. He had grabbed your hips, having missed the feeling of your lips on his own, he loved how he was able to toy with you. But your nastiness made him even more turned on than anything else. “Dinner.” You spoke as your lips parted away from his, you took his hand waiting for him to lead you away.

“Dinner.” He repeatedly stepped out of the elevator and took you to his car. He couldn’t stop staring at you, the way your body looked so perfect, how he could imagine you under him. He had opened the door for you letting you slide in before taking his own seat. His hand gravitating towards your thigh as if you were a couple who had been on multiple dates before. He didn’t understand it himself, but his hand stayed gripped on yours except when he was changing gears.

You didn’t know why the car ride had been silent, why he’d give you tender looks when there was a red light. You didn't know if it was your fault for kissing him or worst of all he regretted this night and wanted it over and done with. Overthinking was always a strong point of yours and as his arm went to your seat as he reversed into the spot. His jaw clenched you could do nothing but admire him, the concentration he had using one hand to steer backwards. “If you keep staring, I won’t let you out.”

The sexual implication was there, you took a deep breath but let a smirk stay on your face, “what are you going to do?” He cocked his head back again, almost grinning at you, he moved his hand to your jaw again making you look right up at him.

“I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you.” He made you stare right up into his scarlet eyes, the way you had begun to feel so small under him. “1 hour.”

“1 hour for what?” You question, confused.

He moves his head closer to you, it may have been uncomfortable laying on top of the gear stick, but he didn’t care. “1 hour to go inside and eat and then…” he tilted his head as he forced your own head to move, you wanted to close the gap again. Kiss his plump lips, feel his spit and saliva mix with your own, his tongue to suck on your own, he moved closer and closer towards you. “...I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

He made your head nod down before he gave a quick kiss on your lips, you were unable to even go for more. His lips left as soon as they came as he let go of your jaw and stepped out of the car. You stayed in the car, watching him come out and open the door for you, his hand out again for you.

You grabbed it but he let go moving his hands around your waist and almost leaning against your body. His chin rested across your shoulder as he made you look up at the restaurant, “like it?”

You knew what this place was, a new restaurant that had been fully booked until the next year had opened up a couple months ago. The prices were way above a university student's pay and you, and your roommate had looked at the next booking for fun and seen every date with a grey X through it. “How...how did you get a reservation?”

“I have my ways, baby, come on.” He kissed your neck before taking your hand again and moving to the door which looked like it had a waiting area filled with people. You both stepped inside, you knew there were perks of being a pro hero, but this seemed like a much larger perk then you had expected.

Bakugo’s hand stayed on your back as he spoke to the woman, knowing he was in a hurry to take you home. Your legs almost felt weak after his confession, one hour that’s all you both had before he’d give you what you wanted. “55 minutes.” He whispered into your ear as you stayed in front of him waiting with the others, it seemed like the business was easily able to fill the people up for their reservation.

As you leant against Bakugo’s broad chest, his arms fitting around your waist, he relished in the feeling between his arms. He had seen you every day since he had moved into the complex and had been unable to touch you until now. He promised himself to never let you go, you noticed a family of 4, they were probably well off, looking at their designer clothes.

One of the small girls came up to you both, her eyes in awe at an actual pro hero, you almost forgot that Bakugo saved people and protected others. How his whole occupation revolved around protecting civilians and being admired by all. “A...are you Dynamight?” She spoke softly in awe.

Bakugo looked down to meet her childish beady eyes, the way she had had her arms behind her back. But bringing them forward to show her Dynamight plush toy, Bakugo kept one hand on you before bending down and meeting her hands. “I am, what’s your name?” Bakugo knew he had gotten a lot better with kids, even if he still found them irritating as hell, he felt soft knowing this girl had his toy rather than stupid Deku’s.

She uttered her name making him smile as her mother came up to her. “Could she get a picture with you? She loves you.”

Bakugo looked at you almost for approval, he checked his watch knowing how much time you both had, but your voice startled him. “We’ve got enough time, Katsuki.”

His eyes widened hearing his name from your lips, he took a deep breath as he lifted the girl to meet his hip. You moved away from the two as she gave a smile at her mum, you stood beside her with Bakugo only staring at you with love. “Thank you.”

Bakugo placed the girl off his hip before staying bending to her height, “I love you so much and when you fight all the bad guys, mummy says that you’ll always win.” She spoke gleefully before finally gazing up at you, “your girlfriend is pretty, one day, when I grow up, I’m going to marry you, mummy says that you’ll only marry big girls though.”

Her mum's eyes widen at the comment as you give a chuckle going to her height as well, “seems like I’ve got competition, you going to become big and strong right?” The girl nodded at your comment as you smiled at her. Her mum gave a quick apology before leaving, both you and Bakugo had been called to be seated yourself, leaving Bakugo unable to even question what you and the girl had said.

“Competition eh?” He leant forward on the chair, the drinks menu in your hand as you skimmed through the food menu on the table.

You met his gaze as he gave you a tender look, “she’s gonna marry you someday? I gotta keep my guard up now.”

“You were good with her, kids they’re shitty little things.” He grumbles out, watching the waiter come towards the two of you.

You saw what you wanted, looking at how Bakugo stayed fixated on you, “are we getting dessert?”

“You are my dessert, baby.” He licked his lips in anticipation of the later events, your eyes widened at how openly he said it looking down.

“Kids are alright.” You answered his earlier question, ignoring the remark, “my nephew, he likes all types of things so he’s a lot easier to preoccupy than other kids.”

“Oh yeah, what does he like?” Bakugo had asked just as the waiter approached asking for your order, you both quickly said it before you turned back to meet Bakugo’s eyes. His hand had moved across to your own that sat loosely on the table, entangling his fingers with your own.

“Normal stuff, he loves your friend Kirishima a lot as well, I’ll have to tell him that I’ve met him.” You smile out, continuing to explain his likes and dislikes and why he spends time with you.

Your food had arrived in less than 20 minutes and Bakugo knew that soon enough he'd have his own heart's desire. You bound beneath his legs, he watched you eat, how a string of saliva went from your mouth to your fork. He hadn't realised he had been staring at your mouth until he heard his name again. “What did you say?”

“Katsuki.” You whine, “you weren't paying attention.”

“It’s not my fault you look so fucking hot.” The edge of his mouth turning upwards slyly, he took a bite of his food waiting for you to ask the question again.

You roll your eyes before giving a grin back, “I said I saw you this morning, you seemed to be in a rush.”

“Perving on me now, babe? If you wanted to see me you should’ve just asked.” He teased his fingers going back to your own.

“Oh shut it.” You shake your head waiting for an answer.

He remembered this morning, the rush after Kirishima and you had left. “Some stuff came up at work, a stupid villain had destroyed the other side of town and I had got called in.”

“Did you get hurt?” You ask having not seen any signs he was even in a fight.

His grip tightened as he looked at you with pride, “me? Hurt? Come on baby, I’d never get hurt.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to worry aren’t I.” You mutter while taking another bite of your food.

Bakugo didn’t know why the look of worry made him feel so warm, you truly did care about him. He knew that even if he had spoken about fucking you, he’s always let you decide, let you choose when it occurred. He had to protect you, let you live your life with security and peace, and he was going to be the one to give it to you.

“Yeah, you can worry then. I expect every time I fight a villain to have you waiting for me now.” He spoke it jokingly, but he really did want you to be waiting to ask if he was okay, to bring him comfort when he needed it. He wanted you by his side, he had waited too long coming home with nobody there, to miss out on the chance of being with you.

He hadn’t expected your reply, but it made his emotions run wild, “I’ll always be waiting for you, even when we weren’t, whatever this is, I always worried about you. It...It’s stupid, I’d see you on the news and I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I heard you close your door.”

“You..you did?” You looked down not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s...it was stupi…” Before you could continue his hands went to your face, cupping both of your cheeks to make you face him.

He looked right into your eyes, his normal fiery personality becoming softer and tender. He had no idea what you were doing to him, he knew he would have mocked someone if they had told him something like that. But with you all he felt was love and warmth, feelings that he never knew he was capable of. “It’s not stupid, idiot.”

He stayed fixated on you before continuing to speak, “we need the bill.” He said it to one of the waiters passing by who nodded, Bakugo stayed looking at you, confusion streaming inside his head. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do with you, my y/n.”

He felt the bill get placed down, letting go of your arms as he left you with those words. You had been silent watching as he paid without regard to if you wanted to split it even though you knew you probably couldn't afford even your drink here. Bakugo stood up, moving to you as he grabbed your hand and almost dragged you out of the building.

Bakugo didn't stop to acknowledge the praise he was getting, he had one thing on his mind, and it was you. He opened the car door and put you inside, checking his watch seeing the 5 minutes left of an hour. He opened his own door, taking a seat as he began driving, you were silent again. His words stick to you in ways you didn’t even understand, “I don’t want to do anything you don't want to do.”

It was the first words you heard from the red lights, you met his gaze, your hand moved to touch his own that was on top of the gear. He moved it hastily before putting it under his hand, moving it up with his own hand. For the first time since you had sat in the car he looked at you, waiting for an answer and getting your eyes that were filled with a need, “I want you.”

“You do?” He questioned turning back onto the road, knowing you both were only a couple minutes away from the complex.

“I’ve waited too long for this, I need you Katsuki.” It felt like heaven to his ears, his hand moving to glide up and down your thigh. All he wanted to feel was you beneath him, to show you just how much you meant to him.

His hand squeezed your thigh, feeling your skin tense under his. “You've been thinking of me haven’t you, when you're touching yourself, what do you imagine? Me sucking on your cunt, fingering you, go on baby tell me.”

“Yes.” You stifled out, “I...I think of you, y...your mouth and fingers”

It was an admission, something Bakugo had been craving to hear, you saw the double doors to the underground parking, how his eyes gazed across your frame as he parked again. He needed you, he didn’t care where, but he knew you’d care. Leaving your thigh he moved to open your own door, seeing how you looked beautiful in front of him.

His hand guided you hastily towards the elevator, not knowing what had gotten into the two of you. As soon as the doors shut, his lips crashed into your own, you instinctively jumped onto his body, legs wrapping around his waist as your back was pushed against the back of the elevator.

His lips moved to your neck and jaw, leaving sloppy kisses across it, you could almost feel his saliva on you. The feeling of him on you made your legs clench, the dress had rode up, your ass only covered by his hands as he felt your underwear. “Already wet for me baby.” He muttered into your ear, biting the lobe as he went back to kiss your mouth. His tongue gliding inside as it moved along with your own, the sound of the ding did nothing but make him carry you towards your apartment. He had seen your keys in your hand and thought of an idea that would make you satisfied.

“Wh...what about your place?” You questioned as he unlocked the apartment, your roommate in her room from the sound of an anime intro playing.

He gave a smirk kicking the door shut with his foot as he gave soft kisses down your neck to your exposed chest. He had assumed you’d have been cold in the dress but the way your body had been pushing against him all night. He knew you had been warm with him, “let’s let her hear, payback for last night.”

Even if Bakugo was glad your roommate had been fucking the night before, as it had brought the two of you together. He knew you could get some sort of revenge on her; he grabbed a handful of your ass squeezing it. A loud moan erupting from your lips as he moved you towards what he assumed to be your bed. He almost fell inside, seeing the discarded clothes and makeup, he pushed you onto the bed.

Body on show, as you looked like a mess, his mess. He closed the door behind him, as he rolled his sleeves up letting his veiny arms and hands be on show. He moved towards you like a predator does with its prey, lust filling him. “Can I?” He gestured to your cunt, his fingers on show. You nodded, watching as both his knees stayed on the side of the bed, you moved backwards, leaning against the pillows.

His hands moved the dress upwards, helping you take it off before chucking it to the side. He eyed you up and down as you moved your hands to cover yourself, but his own stopped you. “Don’t you ever fucking cover yourself in front of me, you’re fucking beautiful, I’m going to show you just how gorgeous you are.” He pinned your hands above with one hand before his mouth went to the top of your underwear, dragging it down.

He grabbed it with his other hand pulling your underwear onto the floor before unclipping your bra. Your body was on show for him as he saw just how beautiful you were, “Katsuki, please fuck me.” You begged out.

He looked at you from where your clit was, his tongue gliding across the slick. He heard a loud moan as he looked another lick across your clit. “I’m going to take my time you, okay princess.”

Not waiting for a reply, his tongue delved right into your cunt. He felt greedy for you, his nose hitting your clit as you arched your back. His hands stayed tight across your wrists, he knew how much you wanted to touch his hair, force his face lower. His other hand moved to your hardened nipples, feeling how you gave another loud moan. “Ka...Katsuki faster.”

He listened to your plea, his tongue going further inside your cunt, the taste of slick sliding down his mouth as his tongue lapped quicker inside your mouth. His hand continued to massage your chest before his fingers moved to your mouth feeling the spit and drool on his fingers move towards your nipples in an instant.

“You want to cum on my face.” He groaned going back into your cunt wanting to taste your cum.

“Let me cum, please, da...daddy, please let me cum.” Bakugo hadn't realised just how turned on a word could make him, his hands moving away from your wrist and nipple as he grabbed your thighs. Leaving bruises as your hands pushed his face further into your cunt, he didn't care if you crushed his head with your thighs he needed your cum.

He heard continuous moans and groans coming from your mouth, “oh...oh God, pleas...faster, daddy, I c...cum.” You could almost feel yourself coil up as every lick and action from his tongue made your stomach grow wild needing a release. In one haste lick down your clit and into your cunt, white liquid gushed right onto his face and mouth. He swallowed it before looking up at how your chest heaved in front of him.

He grabbed your legs dragging your cunt right up to his jeans, the bulge evident through his jeans as he grabbed your wrists making you look at him. “Was that what you dreamed me doing? Do you want more princess? Go on, tell daddy what you want?”

“Fuc...fuck me daddy.” You were restless but wanted him inside of you, wanted to cum on his cock. He moved down, fully clothed as he kissed your mouth, you could taste yourself on him. The way you cum stayed lingering, white liquid around his mouth, he almost wore the dampness as a mark of honour that he had gotten you to cum.

He moved away from your mouth, undoing his shirt as you stayed on the bed, you heard him unbuckle his jeans, eyes widening at the more prominent bulge. “Like what you see.” He spoke cockily, as he stripped himself, his hand moving to pump his cock up and down.

You saw how the tip was a blushed pink, a vein travelling along its side as it turned upwards every time Bakugo’s hands moved up and down. He kneeled in front of you, your cunt right in his view, you saw as he leant towards his jeans which held his wallet, finding a condom as it stayed in his hands. “Let me.” You spoke hesitantly, it was a surprise that you had even offered. You took the condom, ripping the top as you made sure to cautiously not damage it before your hand moved to his cock.

You had sat upright, cum still dripping down your cunt as your hand moved up and down his erect cock before sliding the condom down it. He gave a groan before grabbing your hands and moving you back onto the bed. “You gonna let daddy fuck you now.” You nodded eagerly, your clit feeling swollen, but you didn't care.

He brought your cunt right up to his cock, the way his tip gliding against the slick and cum of your clit. “Fuck, pl...please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned loudly, feeling him continue to toy with you, your legs stayed spread beside his body as he almost enjoyed hearing you beg.

He brought one hand to your mouth, making you taste the precum that had come from his cock, just as you moaned at the taste he slammed into your cunt, “you’re so tight baby.” It was groan as he heard your loud moan come out as well. One hand squeezed your side, grabbing a hold of your body to allow himself to stay in you before thrusting.

As soon as he moved out and back inside, you knew you had met your match. The sheer size and length had been enough to make you melt, but now hear you were, tears streaming down your eyes as he watched with a sadistic smile. “Keep crying, you’re taking me...so well.” His other hand moved to your clit, rubbing circles around it, making your legs turn even more weaker.

“Katsuki.” You whined loudly as his thumb pressed against your clit, his cock gliding back and forth inside of you. You felt the salty tears stream down into your mouth and neck, mascara blackening it to make you look like an entire mess.

Bakugo had been enjoying it all, the wall you laid sprawled out, tears formed, your lack of words and mumbles instead, the sounds of groans and moans, lewd thoughts that escaped your lips. It had all filled the room and your roommate was getting an earful of banging against the wall and wild sounds coming from your room.

“Such a good girl, taking daddy well aren’t you.”

“Y...yes da...daddy.” You continued to be a moaning mess, Bakugo moving his body into your arched self, he felt your chest against his own as he kept at it, hands moving away from your clit and side.

One hand had met your own as your fingers entangled together, your other hand in his hair as he kept on thrusting inside of you. His other hand on the side of your head keeps his body upright to continue thrusting inside of you. You felt his lips leave kisses down your neck and chest before watching how your eyes rolled to the back of your head in a moan.

He kissed you again, teeth against teeth as he sucked at your tongue as you stuck it out for his lips to taste you on. You could feel yourself coil up inside, cum ready to seep out for a second time tonight as he continued to thrust in and out of your wet core. The sound of skin hitting skin erupting through the moan filled room. “You gonna cum for me, fuck… baby, go on cum on my cock.”

It was an order, something you were going to do. His hand tightened around your fingers, feeling how one sign on entanglement was so intimate as his pace quickened. He heard you scream his name as you reached your high, cum gushing onto his cock as he kept at the pace, the cum making it even easier for him to get further into you. He felt himself gain his own high, groaning in your ear as he heard your heavy breath.

Your hands pressed in his damp blond hair as he finally felt himself cum, he slowly came out of you. Condom filled with his own white gush as he fell beside you, he quickly took the condom off, tying it as he chucked it into the bin. He saw how sore and bruised you looked, the blue and greens on your thighs, the purples across your neck and chest.

You looked a mess, but he couldn't help but fall for you even more, cum dripped from you. A lingering smell as you both stayed quietly, the only sound being the heavy breathes from you both. Until you turned to meet his face against one of your pillows, his hands moved to your shoulders, letting your body fall onto his own. “Next time, let’s skip the condom.” You really just wanted to feel him properly inside of you, feel him fill you up until you felt like a stuffed whore.

“Next time yeah?” He grimaced looking down at your tired body.

“Oh shut it, I expect another date before we fuck again.” You muttered back.

His hands moved into your hair, playing with the sweaty strands in his fingers. “Always so needy, is my cock not enough for you baby.”

“No it isn’t.” You signed loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be taking you on a lot more dates baby.” It was more of a promise than anything else making you smile as you laid on his chest.

You felt his hand wrap even tighter across your bare body, the sound of your clock ticking beside him, “I never thought that you saying, ‘you want to sleep on the floor’ would lead me to actually getting you.” He muttered.

“What? You would’ve kept pining for me?” You chuckle your eyes feeling heavy.

He watched how every time you blinked your eyes stayed closed for a lot longer. Already knowing you’d be out in a matter of seconds, “yeah I would’ve, I was an idiot for never asking you out all those months ago.”

He spoke the last part in a mumble as you hummed a response before falling asleep in his arms. He kissed the top of your head, even if he had fucked you and had the best sex he’d ever had. He promised himself to always show you just how much you meant to him, this wasn't going to be fuck buddies or friends with benefits. Bakugo realised he would settle for nothing else then one day calling you his forever.

go back to part one

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bts-trash-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Best Of Us

Chapter 3: Kim Namjoon

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn't help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

Chapter Edited

PREV._.NEXT

“Mom! Stop squishing my cheeks.” You complain, the night sky was peaking through the kitchen curretens, your wet hair falling around your cheeks as your mother cooed to your face. Her eyes close as she made a kissy face at you, making you let out a gasp pushing her away as you two let out giggles. You were lucky to be able to go home on time, your mom picking you up just as Jin left, a small wave towards you had your mother tensing as she looked at you. You Let her know who he was and her chest released a breath as she then teased you about how handsome he was, though her body tensed again when she took a deep breath in. Explaining further what happened she nodded, though still tense with the Alpha scent swirling around the two of you.

But now you’re showered, one of your fathers collage thin long sleeve t shirts, covers your torso, basketball shorts on your legs she was relaxed. She was in almost matching attire, though she was sporting one of his plain black shirts, one he wore all the time, so soft you could almost feel it without even touching. Her hair in a bun make up still on, though her lips stain was smudged on her chin, a red stain mushing with her foundation only a little. Her mascara rubbed under her eye, she always hold such a soft caring character. Though a beta, her mothering sometimes reassembled ones of Omegas, or so you heard.

“But my pup is just so cute.” You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname she teases you with the nickname, the one Yoongi had used when speaking to you. It was odd, unprofessional though it didn’t come from some type of dominant drive plan, no it came from a soft place one of kindness, foundess maybe. It had your heart pounding. The worst part about it, you knew they could hear it, and that your mother right now could somewhat hear the difference.

“Mom, I’m not a pup anymore.” She rolls her eyes, turning back to the steamer to check if the dumplings were done, smiling at the way the steam lifted in the air. The smell of pork and veggies has you stomach crawling, the sound of it gurgling had her laughter fill the small kitchen of your home.

“You may not be a pup, but you still love your mama's cooking like one.” She giggles as you let out a whine from the teasing, your body moving quickly to the table. As you sat she moves and dished some rice, placing it down as she also placed a couple dumplings sitting in her spot as she placed the steamer in front of you. You hand opening the lid, chopstick grabbing the first, shoveling the hot, chewy ball of dough and meat into your mouth. Making you huff out as you do from the heat. “You are gonna burn your mouth, Y/n.” She scolds, a smile on her face as you frown at her, cheeks stuffed as you swallow.

“Can’t help you’re cooking is just so good. It’s unfair women.” You grumble, taking a mouth full of rice as she smiles at you.

“Just eat.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” As you eat, the soft silence that surrounds you makes you feel safe and at home. Her occasionally placing a veggie on your rice or guiding them into your mouth, pointing, sliding the glass of water towards you made you feel taken care off. It comforted your tired mind, your omega feeling safe. A purr leaving your chest when she stood up and ran her hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Eyes closing as she smiles, happy she can bring you comfort after a most likely stressful day. Knowing she’d have to do it tomorrow, and the day after that, yet it brought her comfort as well. Knowing she can do what you father once did, even in her own way.

“Tried?” She asks, making you nod, she watches as your chewing slows as her fingers massage your scalp, her smile growing as she stops making you start whining at her. “Oh hush, now did these Alphas treat you okay, you just said you split coffee on yourself, nothing else.

“Very.” One worded response had her huffing, rolling her eyes as she bumps your shoulder with her hip as she picks up the now empty steamer, placing it back on the counter.

“I would like a better response, especially since you showed up in my car with one of their tops on.” You blush, eyes opening as you take a gulp of your water hand gripping the glass tightly as you nod slowly.

“Yeah Mr.Jung offered it to me since my shirt was soaking and I just never got the chance to change back into it after it dried, though the coffee stain did make it hard to want to change back.”

“And not his scent?”

“He’s mated, to Mr. Min and their omega.” Your words had her freeze rinsing the dishes, nodding slowly as you let out a soft hum.

“A trio? Huh I think I did read somewhere that they were one, just didn’t look into it.”

“I had no idea, and I felt stupid.” Your mumbled words head her throwing her head back with a laugh making you pout at her.

“Your stupid? You know who you are, right?” Nodding she looked at you, turning to face you hand resting on her hip making you cross your arms over your belly, sweater paw hands. “You are one of the smartest people I know, that I bet that Bambam and Lisa know. So never doubt yourself, “

“It was just a comment.” You mumbled, looking down at your sock covered feet, she tuts as you look up at her.

“Just a comment? Yeah from you, it was not just a comment. You undermine yourself every day, now go brush your teeth and go to bed. Work never waits for you.”

As you exit the elevator, the sound of your heels clicking against the tile, coffee already in hand. Placing the coffee holder on the desk next to an already wide awake Jin, he smiles at you, you walking towards Yoongi's door. As you did you saw a body leave, though Hoseok's shirt that was hanging in the curve of your arm, seeming to catch the man's eye as he let out a growl. Going up to you, making you shrink back. Though the sweet smell of pears mixing with peaches had your head spinning, and your scent or maybe your movements had the man freezing. He shakes it off, hand reaching front he top as he growls at you.

“Why do you have my mates' shirt?” You stan frozen, lips parted as you let out a whimper, Yoongi's door opening as he let out a whistle catching the man's attention.

“Both of you are in here now.” Following his orders with a nod, the two of you walk in though you make sure the Omega, their third, their mate was first inside, waiting for him to move. As Yoongi sees the pitch black Americano in your hand he gives you a smile and takes it, making the Omega male growl. “Namjoon, knock it off.”

“She had Hoseok's shirt.” Namjoon whines, with a stomp making Yoongi roll his eyes, hand slipping to the back of his neck making Namjoon poute drop into a droopy smile. You awkwardly play with the jacket sleeve having decided to wear a hoodie, your fathers hoodie, instead of a blazer though you were in a black button down and black slacks. Still professional, yet you felt more comfortable. Though right now, you felt the opposite of that. You tried to control your scent, though your distress must’ve captured their attention.

“Y/n don’t worry about my little one over here, he’s just possessive after his..uh heat.” You nod slowly, not really in a position to say that you understand. Cause you didn’t. You understood the heat part, but being possessive of someone , no clue. You had no one. So all you could understand was the pain of being alone, the depression that came after a heat. That's all you know.

“That fine..I guess I understand.” You mumble, your hand only tightened around your wrist, Namjoons eyes lingering as you play with your jackets.

“Sure you do, I don’t smell alpha on you. See she co-”

“Namjoon, you have no right to get like this. You agreed to her being our intren. So knock it off.”

“Hyu-”

“I’m just gonna go get to wo-”

“You’re working with me today, sit.” You take a breath in, eyes widening as you look to the chair he gestured at. Slowly moving, eyes staying to the ground, knowing the two mates where glaring at one another, you hear the Omega huff

“Then I’m staying.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” You sat down, just as you watched Namjoon throw himself on an identical couch that was in Hoseok office. In fact the office was pretty much identical though the walls were an off blue grey tone. Your body moved the jacket off, placing it on your lap, wishing your father's scent was still lingering on the fabric. Though very few pieces of fabrics at the home smelt like him, his bedsheets, his mattress, even his pillow. That's pretty much all of it. You left all these objects to your mother. Blinking slowly at the ipad, your ipad sat in front of you on a case, a keyboard connecting as you look to Yoongi.

“So you are gonna go through these complaints on our newest product and find the most common complaints, problems there are.” Nodding you fall into your work mode, hand moving to the keyboard, opening email after email, making a list of every complaint.

Hours passed,your body now almost completely hunched over, eyes dazed as you pull back and let out a yawn. Hand moving to kneaded at the jacket in your lap. Your eyes reading over yet another dramatic complaint over the price of the product, making you huff. Jin had brought you your coffee once he realized you weren’t coming back, it was snow empty resting behind your ipad, Yoongi's cup was next to it. Namjoon had huffed, and puffed for the first hour, scrolling through his phone but now he was on his own laptop, bobbing his head.

You had finally gotten a good look at him. His hair was an ash blonde, though the roots were dark. His eyes were the lightest brown out of the three, rounded cheeks and board shoulders. He wasn’t what useal male omegas looked like, though he did have features like an omega. His hips were widers, and his thighs thick, but you could tell, even under the large black sweater, he was muscular. Just like his mates. He had even dimples, fucking dimples. When Yoongi had called for him, a smile had blinded you when he skipped to the desk, and sat on top of Yoongi's lap. As if to gloat. But the extra, dramatic smile dropped when he saw how happy you looked at the two. A small, welcoming smile falling on his lips as he kissed his mate and got back up moving back to the couch.

That was over an hour ago, you were now feeling sitting for four hours straight catching up to you, the back pain that had only started to happen after the accident, was spiking up your back. The muscles around your spine tense, spassuming making you reach back, eyes closing as you massage at the area. A soft grunt passing your lips making Namjoons eyes snap up, Yoongi's eyes trailing over to you as you tried to adjust yourself in your seat. Failing.

“Everything okay Y/n?” Namjoon asked, headphones sliding down his head, around his neck. You look at him, giving him a slightly painful smile as you nod, then shrug.

“Eh, back is killing me.”

“Period?” He wonders, making you look at him with a head tilt, wondering how a stranger could be so bold. “What I know is female, no matter what sub gender, get them. It is what helps you guys..be..get pregnant. I..sorry if it was too personal.”

“No, just..it wasn’t..just not used to stanger caring.” You mumble eyes drifting back to your emails, silence falling back between the three of you. When you straighten your back, sharp pain makes you stand as you let out a whine. “Fucking hell..sorry.” You whisper, hand falling to your lower back as Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes. Namjoon is already at your side as you look at him, comfort. All you felt was comfort as his hand met your lower back.

“Are you sure it's not your period? I've read that female' omegas hips move up to that age twenty-five. It could be that.” he mumbled making you blush as you shake your head, taking a deep breath. Feeling comfort at his warm hand against your back.

“Yeah it’s not that..I..I got in a really bad car accident my freshman year of college, been messed up ever since.” Your words caused worry to etch on his face as he looked at you then down to the chair you were in.

“No lumbar support probably doesn’t help any damage that was caused, Yoongi what the heck she's worked for you for two days and you already are causing problems for her.” he mumbles, making your eyes wide as Yoongi let out a growl.

“It’s not like I knew about this, if I did I would’ve gotten things to help her. Can you stop touching her.” His words had Namjoon growling, bringing you closer to his side, making you stumble, his hand working the muscle cramp, made you lean into him. “Now, Namjoon.”

“No. Omegas help, and I rather do this then you or Hoseok, or even Jin. “ His words were filled with growls, hand pressing against your back moving you towards the couch.

“Namjoon.”

“Yoongi.” You look to see your boss now pouting, as the Omega had you sit down on the couch, hand moving against you back as Yoongi sighed. Picking up the jacket from the ground making you stand and growl, rushing to grab it as you let out a whine once you realized what you did.

“Sorry..it’s..it was my dads.” You mumble clutching it to your chest. Yoongi's glare fell at your broken words as you took a breath and looked at him. “I think...I think i’m gonna finish going through the emails out there with Jin.” You mumbled, grabbing you things, quickly scurrying out of the room. You had felt so comfortable, way too comfortable in fact. You had growled at Yoongi, had let Namjoon, a stranger touch your back. His scent now lingering around and on you as you exit. The two watching eyes wide, following after you. Worry etched in their eyes, but also confusion filling them.

Both wondering why they wanted you back, wanting you to be wrapped in their arms, dripping in their scents, your scent of freshly baked cookies mixed with chocolate had their mouths watering. It was driving them insane. Wondering why seeing the tears in your eyes hurt them.

Yet when their eyes met, it all made sense.

Tag list:

@kth-kpoplover @alex4243 @malyxsoulpersonal @purelyecstacy @ryuyalana @nlost21 @xanny91 @barbyisafangirl @munchyn @lashaysaurusrex @scentedsope @purpleheartsfortae @btsforlif @barbikatherine @mauranglc @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @keepyourdreamsalive @ellethemoon @thickemadame @chimchimooo73

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

Text

so... the red banquet, huh?

im not going to lie, i was cheering on the eggpire the entire time (/lh) - what can i say, something abt the demon possessed resident evil crew just speaks to my heart. theyre FUN, ok?

anyway, a lot of people were theorizing abt what c!dream showing up at the banquet could look like - and, well, i thought i’d write my version of it. this takes place in the “guard dog au” developed primarily by a gc im in on twitter (@stabbysideblog being the main originator of it, do check sunny out !!) - the basic premise is post-getting the revive book from c!dream, c!quackity continues to get his, uh, “use” out of him by basically treating him as a bodyguard/guard dog as he goes around the server - which should probably give you a pretty good idea of how this is going to go :]

tws: death, grief, implied torture, starvation, abuse, blood, murder, unhealthy relationship, dehumanization, possession, trauma, mental illness, violence, dark content, dark imagery, emotional distress, mental instability, pandora’s vault/prison arc, c!quackity critical (not really, but a very dark portrayal of him)

A strangled sob claws its way up Puffy’s throat as she watches Foolish fall.

He drops in a spray of golden ichor in the crimson, brilliant green eyes trained on hers, jaw slack in horror, pain, dipping to the ground and whiting out before he’s even fully collapsed. The others’ screams hardly even meet her ears; all she can see is her son, falling, her son, dying, her son, that same sunlit kindness still held in the curve of his lips in this room that knows nothing but pain and betrayal, gone gone gone gone-

Because of her.

Ant’s still staring at her, pupils thinned to needles from the brightness of the lava at their backs, ears alert but stance entirely calm as he twirls his sword, still dripping gold. His mouth is moving but she cannot hear anything above the ring ring ringing in her ears, the world swirling and blurring dangerously from the tears gathering in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, Ant’s eyes polished rubies where there had once been a cloudless sky. Bad gestures at the crowd, pushed back towards the lava’s fire in their fear, leaving her to stand in the middle of the room as one desperate dying scream, the egg, standing as a silent witness to it all-

“Bad-” a flash of blue, and there’s someone standing in front of her, shoulders pulled back, a diamond sword glittering their right hand, “Stop it.”

“Quackity.”’

Bad snarls, tail whipping back and forth; Puffy takes a step back, then another, shoulders still shaking in grief for her son, for her friends, for everyone who’s about to lose their lives in this twisted realm of crimson and hellfire. There is no fear on Quackity’s face though he stands unarmored, and for the first time in this awful day something like worry flashes over Bad’s face. There’s history here, she realizes - what did Bad say about Quackity attacking? - but none of this is making sense, not the self-assured way Quackity is carrying himself, wings relaxed and folded at his back, not the simmering unease making itself known in the foreign cadence of Bad’s voice.

“Oh my gosh, look at what you’ve done,” Quackity says, voice almost patronizing, like a parent stumbling in on the mess their child has made out of their bedroom, “this is impressive, I’m not going to lie, this is quite impressive.” Puffy swallows thickly, hears the shuddering gasp of someone behind her - Fundy, probably, or Sam - as Quackity’s voice drops. “You have to stop right now.”

“Stop?”

“This whole Egg thing is just getting out of control - you just killed a man,” Quackity stalks across the netherbrick floor like he has all the time in the world, ignoring the crossbows that the Eggpire has trained on his back, guarded only by the off-white shirt he’s wearing, an untied tie hanging limply around his neck. She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth - my son, they killed my son, she means to say, but the words stick to the walls of her throat and only escape her lungs in another series of wracking sobs. “Is that what you wanted to do, Bad?”

He laughs - laughs, of all things, and there is something here that Puffy is missing, that isn’t clicking through the muddied fog of grief hanging grey and suffocating around her head, but Quackity is speaking again and she can’t think about it all, not now, “-and I’m not gonna have it anymore, Bad.”

He slips over by the crowd, eyes glancing all of them huddled in one fearful mob over the tables, eyes dark and daring and cold; the Eggpire keeps their eyes trained on him, Bad’s eyebrows furrowed, Ant’s muzzle twisted in a snarl. Puffy watches, their words passing over her like water skidding against the surface of a rock splitting a stream in two, heart thudding in her ears, marking out the heartsick beats in this poisoned melody - one-two, her-son, her-son, her-son-

He stops in front of her in the middle of monologuing, eyes trained on her own like he’s trying to tell her something. His eyes flick down and she follows their gaze to his other hand, the one not clasped around a sword handle, watches as he gestures vaguely in the direction of the Eggpire. She frowns, confusion cutting through the grief - what is he trying to say? - and Quackity sighs, index finger slashing in the air in the shape of what might be an A as he spins on his heel to walk back towards Bad and the others.

“So how about we just stop playing?”

Quackity smiles, teeth white and glittering from the lava’s glow even as the Eggpire surrounds him, pushes him back against the wall. Bad seems to hesitate, hand clasped around the trigger of a crossbow he keeps pointed at the other’s head; when he speaks, he almost sounds mournful.

“I can’t,” he mutters, quiet, stepping forwards as his shoulders straighten, pushing Quackity back in a motion that the others are quick to follow. Puffy watches, an awful sinking feeling falling through the hole left in her chest by the sight of her son, falling, her son, dead - watches as Quackity’s wings open, shine golden in the lava’s light - what is he planning?

“You know why I can’t stop.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh through his lungs, “Bad- you and all your buddies here, drop your weapons, and leave. Let all of these people go.”

“Or what?” Ant’s voice is sharp, but Quackity barely pays him a second thought, swinging a glare at his head and cutting him off.

“I’m not talking to you,” he laughs, dismissive, “I’m talking to Bad.”

“No-” Puffy watches as Bad’s hand tightens on his crossbow, punctuating the word with a step forward. “You put your weapon down. If you wanted to stop us?” He’s too close to Quackity for Puffy to make out either of their faces, crossbow bolt aimed and ready to send straight through his skull. She stiffens, sees from the corner of her eye as the ones beside her look away, and resigns herself to the inevitable spray of blood on brick - not again not again don’t make me watch again - “You should’ve brought more than just yourself.”

Quackity laughs.

“I did,” his voice is dangerous in its levity, making Bad, then the rest of the Eggpire step back as his wings spread open further, watching with bated breath and wide eyes as a swarm of white descends from a hidden hole in the wall, “Or, well, I did the next best thing. I brought my worst enemy.”

“What?”

“Alright Quackity, where’s this Egg thing?”

Technoblade jumps down into the room in a familiar purple-black blur of expertly enchanted netherite armor, form impeccable despite the seeming exhaustion in his voice. At his feet, a pack of wolves gather, pace, muscles coiled and clearly ready to strike; he rolls his shoulders back, signature fireworks loaded into his crossbow, and the crowd behind Puffy immediately breaks into shocked murmuring and soft cheers.

On Quackity’s other side, someone else flips into the room, wearing a suit of all things, crisp and well-pressed; Purpled grins, entirely too gleeful as the Eggpire presses back further, held off by the dogs swarming and growling at their feet.

“Purpled- we hired you!”

“To be frank with you, Bad, a sword appears in Purpled’s hand and he flips it casually, blade thin and gleaming, “Quackity just had the better price.”

“We- we still outnumber you!” Bad’s voice is a near-scream in its desperation, his tail lashing back and forth as he shifts his weight forward, “It’s four against three- we’ll still win-” Despite herself, Puffy’s mind spins; either way, they’re still at a disadvantage from sheer numbers alone, never mind Quackity’s lack of armor. Maybe if they all work together, they’ll be able to sufficiently stop them, but there’s no way she can see this ending in anything less than a bloodbath-

“I didn’t want for it to come to this, Bad,” Quackity’s voice drops low and sweet, the sincerity in his tone belied by his glittering eyes and jagged grin. The shift in tone sends a shiver down her back, has even his allies shifting uncomfortably in what seems to be confusion - Puffy catches something like a murmured no from Sam, behind her, before Quackity whistles, loud.

It all happens too fast for her to follow; one moment, the Eggpire is standing, weapons raised and ready to fight; the next, and there is a new netherite-clad figure in the middle of the room, signature sparks of purple from a pearl still glittering around them, axe buried into Antfrost’s chest. The room devolves into shrieks as his body dissolves, Bad gasping sharply and something dark bubbling in Puffy’s chest - good - as the newcomer in the room moves over to Ponk, bloodstained axe swinging in a downward arc, only barely stopped in time by a diamond sword catching on the crook of the blade.

“Go!” Quackity’s voice rings out above the chaos, and Techno and Purpled - seemingly shaken from their shock - fly into motion, fireworks bursting in flashes of red and black that send Puffy blinking out stars from her eyes, Purpled moving to match blows against Hannah and Techno’s army biting at the ankles of the Eggpire leader. Around her, people scream in relief, cheering as the Eggpire, clad in eggshell-blue, are pushed back one by one, hindered by a shifting wave of teeth and claws and clashing blades and netherite moving smoothly over the uneven floor - Bad screams, “RETREAT!”, and they disappear into the wall.

Purpled curses; “I’m going after them.” Puffy watches, still reeling, as he dives into the corridor that Bad had revealed, a flash of purple and blue melting into the shadows; the mystery figure - still hauling a heavy, bloodstained axe, nearly dragging against the floor - moves forward as to follow.

Quackity snaps his fingers, and the figure stops, turns, immediately moving to the winged man’s side. Behind her, Puffy can make out cheers, gasping, hysterical sounds of relief; she can’t join them, feels nothing but the shuddering weight of her grief pressing further on her lungs as the adrenaline fades, head dizzy with Foolish’ sharp gasp in pain, Ant’s yowl of agony. Her eyes flick to the side, catch on Sam pacing, muttering under his breath; when his eyes meet hers, they widen in something like - alarm?

She shakes her head; she can’t think about all of that, right now. Her hooves stumble over the vines and rot strewn over the floor, carrying her forward to the glitter of gold on red, to where her son had fallen and she could do no more but watch with a scream caught between her teeth.

A hand lands on her shoulder- “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it in time.”

She whirls around; Quackity’s looking down at her, face twisted in sympathy. Behind him, the armored stranger looms, hair long and tangled, helmet keeping their face in shadow and hiding their features from view. There’s something distantly familiar to them, in the way they shift from one foot to the other, something that makes her eyes narrow and throat tighten-

“Who are you?” The words tumble from her mouth, making Quackity freeze, jaw snapping shut, the figure behind him tensing almost imperceptibly under their armor. “Who-”

Quackity’s eyes are dark, piercing; she can’t read them, the flat line of his mouth as confusing as it is frustrating. His eyes flick up to somewhere over her shoulder before moving back to her own

“How rude of me,” He smiles, gold tooth glinting, “I didn’t even introduce our special guest.”

His right wing presses against their back, and they drop, immediately, to their knees, making her step back in shock. Quackity’s hand slips easily under the edge of their helmet, ripping it off with little care and letting their hair fall in a wave of dusty browns over their face; he pulls the strands back roughly, revealing the paleness to their skin, the hollows in their cheeks-

“Dream?”

Her breath shudders in her chest, eyes snapping up to Quackity, still smiling, hand still pressed against the back of his skull. Dream’s face is pale, thin, clawed with new scars that highlight the jut of his cheekbones and the dullness of his eyes. He looks up at her, eyes glassy, skin almost grey, and for a moment she’s looking at Foolish, eyes unseeing in death, the luster of his skin stolen like the air from his lungs, and she nearly screams.

“Puffy, Puffy,” Quackity murmurs, almost kind, “It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine now.”

“He- he’s supposed to be in prison,” she hisses, not missing how he flinches, not missing how even that is hindered by the hand braced against his head. He looks strangely small kneeling at Quackity’s side, dwarfed by the netherite he’s wearing; even with an axe strapped to his back, the blade still wet with crimson and reeking of iron and decay, he hardly looks like the villain that had terrorized the server, the son she could no longer recognize in the midst of the bridges he burned.

“Oh- don’t worry about him,” Quackity shrugs, wings fluttering, “It’s all being done with the Warden’s permission, Puffy, I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point, his hand tightens on the other’s hair, tugging his head back by the roots; Dream hardly even reacts, simply letting himself be manhandled, throat bare and exposed to the air, similarly criss-crossed by scars. “He’s perfectly well-behaved now, you see?”

Her throat closes, the pit in her gut torn open by the sight of her son with a blade skewered through his heart only growing wider, hungrier, by the dullness in the eyes of the other. Foolish’ death had happened too fast for her to react: one moment, he was staring at her, eyes mournful in goodbye; the next, he was a tumble of gold and green and blue against the floor, half of his name still not having left her lips. Dream’s head swivels to hers, face entirely blank; there is nothing quick written in the gauntness of his face, more scar tissue than skin, in the shadows under his eyes or how they seem to stare, unseeing, in the long, knotted strands of hair twisted over Quackity’s knuckles. He looks like he’s been dying, slowly, for months, and the screaming cry of YOU FAILED ringing in her head in Ant’s voice only grows louder.

“What did you-” the words scrape roughly against the inside of her mouth, “What did you do?”

Quackity shrugs, letting go, and Dream’s head tips forward to stare at the floor. “What had to be done.”

He clicks his fingers again, and Dream stands, falling behind Quackity with his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Quackity hands him back his helmet, keeping his hand stretched out, palm up, even after Dream takes the netherite and fastens it back over his head. Puffy watches, heart stuck in her throat, as Dream fiddles with something by his throat, pulls out a thick coil of iron chains, pressing the end to Quackity’s outstretched hand - the other side, she realizes, fastened around his neck.

Her breath stutters when he looks back at Quackity, gut roiling at the familiarity - it’s an imperfect copy of the way he used to look at her, a skittish shadow at her tail, all awkward smiles and fidgeting hands. Only now, his eyes don’t dance with the same light, his lungs shivering in fear instead of wheezing laughter; she watches as his head follows Quackity like he’s the only person in the room, a duckling imprinted on the nearest person and ready to follow to the ends of the world and further, and her heart shatters all over again.

“Anyway,” Quackity’s eyes soften, lips curled in sympathy, “My condolences, Puffy, for your son. It really is a tragedy.”

She watches him leave with tears in her eyes, a sob once again caught in her throat. The images overlap - Foolish, smiling under the sun’s glow, sitting on the roof of his summer home - Dream, grinning in the treetops, eyes as green as the leaves surrounding him - Foolish, falling in a spray of ichor and a gasp of pain, Dream, grey-eyed and silent, dead as the crimson rot surrounding his beaten body-

My condolences for your son, Quackity’s words echo in her skull, and not for the first time, she laughs miserably, tears falling from her eyes.

Which one?

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otptings · 4 years ago

Text

Attention

Idol; Johnny

Genre; Fluff, Smut

Warnings; implied switch!Johnny, mentions of edging, shower sex, fingering, unprotected sex

Synopsis; It's hard getting enough time to be intimate together while living with 8 other men, but there's always a work around.

Despite what others may think, it is easy to get Johnny worked up.

Ridiculously easy.

Run fingers through his hair, give it a pull and he'll be a moaning mess. Kissing his jaw, or the spot right behind his ear will cause him to let out a whine. Placing my finger's lightly on his neck before giving it a squeeze makes him cum untouched.

I like to have fun with him. Running my fingers down his chest, pinching one of his nipples. All while jerking him off at an incredibly slow pace, bringing tears to his eyes as he can't get enough. Teasing him until he gets mad and pins me against the nearest surface. Mirrors, walls, desks. All are free game.

It's been hard to get time to ourselves recently. A new album goes hand in hand with a comeback. Hours of practice for to learn new choreography, photo shoots for magazines which last hours with all 10 of us being photographed. Hours worth of interviews, together and individually, YouTube videos and Vlives for fans to keep them entertained. Don't even get me started on performances, hours spent getting out hair and makeup done, waiting so that we can perform, taking multiple takes if the first isn't good enough.

It's insanely busy work, that I love with all of my heart. I love my boys, but sometimes I just one on one time with Johnny. Weeks without being touched, nothing more than a kiss or a grope every now and again. Having to keep skinship to a minimum due to the cameras constantly on us.

Moments like these are hard on both of us, not being able to be intimate together. Simples touches are never enough. This can be solved however, with one text. A text that I love because it gets Johnny worked up. The perfect teasing text even though we know how it'll end up.

Shower?🚿

I heard Johnny's phone ping from where he was, on the opposite couch from me. Glancing up I saw a blush spreading across his cheeks, could see him swallow as he looked around at the other boys. Checking to see if they noticed. They never do. Too busy watching Mark and Haechan argue playfully over something meaningless. No eyes were on Johnny, comfortably seated between Jaehyun, and Taeil.

I know all of Johnny's tells. The way his legs that are slightly spreading still leaving space for the others on the couch start to close a little bit, his hand moving down to cover his crotch. The glance he takes, before looking back at his phone. Clearly thinking of a response.

I didn't bother waiting for his reply, just headed to my room to get some clean clothes. Whether he joined or not I would enjoy my shower. Walking into the bathroom I made sure to turn on my speaker, letting music flow throughout the bathroom.

Stripping out of my clothes I tossed them in the hamper, before finally stepping into the shower and releasing a sigh. The warm water running over my skin, soothing my aching joints from dance practice. Soaking my hair I grabbed the shampoo, starting to wash my hair when I heard the click of the door locking. Johnny didn't speak as he stripped and got into the shower behind me.

I felt him push my hands away, and start washing my hair for me. Detangling it as he went before rinsing the shampoo out. Turning back around I looked up at Johnny admiring him. His hair wet and pushed back, his face still flushed from my teasing.

"Hi baby." I watched a smile spread across his lips, his arms going around my waist pulling me to his chest.

"Hi baby girl." Leaning down Johnny connected our lips. It's been weeks since I've had Johnny like this.

All for me, not having to share him with fans, or the other members that like his attention. Just me, all of his attention solely on me. It felt too good to be true sometimes.

Our lips moved in sync as his hands slid down my body. Stopping at my ass he gave it squeeze, causing me to let out a moan that was eaten by our kiss. His hands rubbed up and down my body, teasing me. I pulled away from the kiss and poked my lips out.

"Please touch me." Johnny let out a chuckle as he turned me around still keeping me close. He pushed my hair out of the way before placing sloppy kisses on my neck, sucking a hickey at the base.

"You're greedy, you want me to touch you more huh?" I nodded my head, getting my wishes answered as his hands went to my breasts, playing with them gently before pinching my nipples causing me to let out a squeak.

One hand continued to fondle with my breasts as his other trailed down my body, causing goosebumps in it's wake despite the warm water. His fingers met my clit, rubbing teasing circles.

"Stop t-teasing p-p-please... I need you." Johnny listened to me and slipped his hand further down, sliding a finger into my hole. I threw my head back against his chest, a sigh leaving my mouth. After weeks of having to touch myself I got the sensation that I was craving for so deeply.

"You're so wet for me. You missed me?" I nodded my head not bothering to hide my moans.

"I missed you too baby girl. I need to be in you." I felt him grind his erection against my ass, causing me to whimper.

"Please."

"Please what? You got to ask clearly." He slipped another finger, massaging my walls. I felt all of my control leaving, not caring if the boys heard or knew what we were doing. I just needed to have Johnny inside of me, his fingers teasing around my g spot, ghosting over it but not fully touching it. I needed him.

"Please f-fuck me need you s-so bad." Johnny laughed, hearing my desperation. Pulling his fingers out I whimpered at the loss of sensation, even though I knew he was going to fuck me. Turning me back around Johnny hiked my leg up around his waist, his other hand holding me around my back. Grabbing his dick I slid it up and down my cunt, gathering my juices on it to help the slide. Lining it up with my cunt I pushed the tip in, allowing Johnny to finish the thrust himself.

As Johnny bottomed out he let out a groan, I whimpered at the stretch. The burn accompanying the pleasure that I got from simply being fulled.

"Are you okay baby girl?" I hand slid up to my face cupping my cheek.

"Yes please." Johnny leaned in for a kiss, before thrusting up into me. Wrapping my arms around his neck I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling it after the head of his cock rubbed over my g spot. Johnny hissed as pulled away from the kiss. Whining I pulled his mouth back towards mine. Johnny chuckled into the kiss, obliging my request.

That came as a price however when he started to thrust into me rougher, causing me to let out a load moan.

"Be careful. Don't want the boys to hear you do you?" I felt embarrassment spark through me at the thought of them hearing me over the music, and the water. Would they realize that I was that desperate? That I couldn't wait any longer, and needed Johnny in me?

I squealed as Johnny picked me up, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. I felt the cold tile on my back as Johnny slid back into me smoothly. Placing kisses on Johnny's neck I heard him let out a growl before fucking into me faster. His cock dragging against my walls beautifully, the head rubbing over my spot causing endless moans to fall from my mouth.

"So good for me baby. You're pussy takes me in so well." Johnny's praise only fueled the fire in me. The mixed sensations of the warm water running over us, and the cold tile against my back caused shivered to run down my body. I felt as if my whole body was electrocuted as Johnny drove deeper and deeper into me. "The way you're squeezing around me is so good. I can tell you're close cum for me."

At Johnny's word the tension inside of me finally snapped, my eyes rolled back as I orgasmed, Johnny still thrusting inside of me chasing his own. I barely heard his groan as he came, only felt his warm cum as it spurted into me. Johnny continued to hold me against the wall, ignoring the sensation of my legs shake as he laid kisses all over my face.

Johnny pulled his softening cock out, causing us to both to let out a whine at the feeling. Pulling me back under the water he grabbed the rag and helped clean the sweat and cum off of me, placing gentle kisses on my shoulders and neck.

Turning the water off, we got out of the shower Johnny lifting me up and placing me on the sink. Typically I'd do this all myself after sex but I've missed Johnny caring for me.

The way he rubbed the tower gently over my skin, making sure not to hurt me as he rubbed it over my used pussy. The way he gently detangles my hair as he dries it, making sure not to rub too harshly. The feeling of him taking care of me, as he whispers sweet words to me between drying me off.

Finally after drying, and putting on clean clothes we made our way to my room. Johnny laying on the bed first before pulling me down on top of him. Not even bothering to get under the blanket I enjoyed the sound and feel of his heart beat. Hearing his quiet breaths as his hands gently ran over my lower back, rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin.

Moments like these, having all of Johnny's attention are always the most intimate. I'm grateful I get to experience them with the love of my life.

"Do they think we don't know what they're doing?" Haechan glanced over at Doyoung and Jaehyun who had amused looks on their faces. Seeing Johnny run off quickly after you got in the shower, and hearing the music get louder when the door opened were all obvious giveaways.

"Eh you're worst than them anyway." Jaehyun let out a laugh watching Mark's face go red, and Haechan's teasing smirk grow.

#nct 127 #nct 24th member #Johnny suh #nct 127 Johnny suh #nct 127 Johnny #nct imagine #nct oneshot #nct imagines #nct smut #Kpop smut #Kpop imagines #Kpop one shot #nct Johnny suh #nct x reader

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 3 years ago

Text

Pulse Point

A/N: Requested by anonymous. Warning for canon-typical violence; minor character death, nightmares, and post-traumatic stress. Also: borrowed Dr. Sweets from the show Bones.

Summary: A near-death experience leaves you with recurrent nightmares. Neal offers some comfort.

Word Count: 5,154

The steady beeping of hospital equipment was driving you insane. It had been hours now of nothing except the monotonous noise of your own heartbeat. If it didn’t shut up soon, you would claw your ears off. With a stiff body and an ache that penetrated down to your bones, you forced your body upright and pinched open the pulse monitor on your right hand.

You let out a relieved sigh as the equipment went silent and dropped yourself back onto the well-padded pillows behind you. The pulse monitor clattered to the floor on its long white cord and you settled down for a nap. The ache in your bones made you feel heavy, like lead. There was nothing quite like a well-deserved nap.

In mere seconds after you had closed your eyes, the equipment started acting up again, this time blaring one long, constant shriek. The surprise made your heart skip a beat, but your eyelids were too heavy to look and see what had happened. Then your heart kept skipping, and your throat tightened. You couldn’t breathe. Your chest burned. It wasn’t a heartbeat; it was a flatline.

You were dying.

The leaden feeling in your body doubled. Your muscles didn’t respond to trying to move and you couldn’t force your lungs to take in a breath. Footsteps pounded around you, incoherent shouts going in one ear and out the other. You were desperate for your paralyzed eyes to open. Was this what you’d have for the rest of your life? Nothing but darkness and unintelligible, mind-numbing noise, punctuated by electrical humming and the pain of a vice clamping itself again to your finger?

The flatline paused for a second. Your ears rang and you thought, for a moment, that you were safe, your heart was beating again. Instead, your stomach twisted and you realized you were losing feeling in your toes. No blood. No life. When the screech of your flatline came back again, it was louder, more piercing. The shrillness reminded you of screaming.

As soon as you remembered it, it was there – the same screaming as before, somewhere in your room, echoing from every corner. In the next pause of the flatline, it turned into a hoarse shriek and a plea. “No! Please!”

You couldn’t hear anything underneath it, no more overlapping voices, and your panic increased. Where were the doctors? Did they think you were gone? Help me!

Your eyes opened with a sudden snap, the droning of your alarm clock replacing the flatlining of the monitor.

As you stared at your ceiling, you panted for breath. Rationally, you knew, you had probably never stopped breathing, but in the panic of your nightmare, it felt like you’d been smothered. Terror powered your desperate gasps and convinced you that your feet and hands were numb, even as you could feel that one foot was poking out from the end of your blanket. After a long moment, you dared to move your arm, ready to scream if you weren’t dreaming after all and still couldn’t move. You turned your alarm off easily.

Soft rain pattered against the glass windows, creating shiny-looking streaks as droplets collected and streamed down the side of the building. It was much more soothing than the silence that usually reigned in Dr. Sweets’ office when he was waiting for you to talk. Maybe he should invest in one of those noise machines with rain as an option. You thought about making the suggestion, but knowing him, he would probably call you out on the procrastination, or deflection, or whatever else he wanted to call it.

You broke the silence. “I’m certain I can wait you out for the next…” You checked the clock. “Twenty-seven minutes.”

Dr. Sweets raised his eyebrows, still leaning his head on a closed fist, propped on the arm of his chair. “I’m equally certain I can recommend you remain on desk duty for the next…” He pretended to check his watch. “Twenty-seven weeks.”

You scowled.

Psychological clearance was a bureau mandate after something traumatic occurred during the course of the job. You’d been lucky enough not to need it up to this point, but after… that, you hadn’t been given a choice. Dr. Sweets was a highly qualified psychotherapist, and you were sure that he did amazing things to help a lot of people, but so far you felt neither amazed nor helped.

“Agent L/N, you went through something incredibly harrowing that you were very close to not walking away from.” The psychologist finally took his head off his fist and put his arm down in his lap. At least he’d taken the bait and you weren’t the one starting the discussion. “You were a half-inch or couple minutes from bleeding out.” He pinched his fingers to demonstrate as if you didn’t have a scar on your body that distance from your femoral artery. You’d never be able to forget what half an inch looked like.

“But I did walk away, and the person who did that to me is in prison for the rest of his life.” You crossed your legs, trying to look more comfortable than you felt. You weren’t sure how effective you were going to be at convincing a therapist that you didn’t need therapy, but it was worth the try.

He looked utterly unconvinced. Actually, the jerk looked like he knew exactly what you were trying for and thought it was cute that you thought you could trick him. “Justice, or even retribution, which it feels like you’re leaning towards, doesn’t erase a wrongdoing or its associated harm.”

“I didn’t erase it, I healed from it. I took medical leave, now I’m back.”

“Physically, you healed. It takes a lot longer to heal mentally from those kinds of wounds.”

“Does it?” You challenged.

“I think your nightmares speak for themselves,” Dr. Sweets said pointedly.

You glared at him, at a loss for a quick comeback. You knew you didn’t look like a million bucks, but you hadn’t thought it was that obvious you were losing sleep. If he knew, then the coworkers who spent a lot of time with you must know, too. Especially Neal – nothing got past him. Oh, that was embarrassing.

The nightmares had been recurring for weeks now. They had started once you had a return date to the office, but after actually resuming your work, they had increased in frequency and intensity. They weren’t identical, but they did all share some similarities: some fatal injury had you dying, alone, in the dark, like you almost had in real life. You never got to the point of actually dying in your dreams, you didn’t think, but you were just fine with that. They were bad enough as they were. Yes, they were a sign of trauma and anxiety. But if your mind didn’t heal itself from weeks safe at home, then you knew returning to normal as fast as possible was probably your best bet at getting over what had happened.

“I’m not your enemy here,” the therapist said to you more gently. You couldn’t say he was heartless, even if you didn’t enjoy the half-hour sessions where he tried to talk about your feelings whether you wanted to or not. “My goal is the same as yours. I want you back at work, safely, able to sleep through a night so you don’t jeopardize yourself or the people around you.”

You let out a deep sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me about the affect this has had on you.” Dr. Sweets encouraged, not for the first time. “You’ve accepted what happened. I can see that. But the next step is processing what it means for you, as an agent, as a person… maybe both.”

You felt helpless. What was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t very well tell him you were terrified your job was going to actually get you killed or cost more lives on your watch. When your employer paid your therapist’s bills, you couldn’t fully trust doctor-patient confidentiality. Maybe it was just paranoia, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk it.

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted. Your tone sounded mournful. In a way, you were mourning for a time when you could sleep through the night and enjoy your days at work. It wasn’t like white-collar crime was your passion, but you did like puzzles, and you did like being around the people you worked with, especially a certain blue-eyed felon. “I keep having nightmares that I’m… injured, and I’m alone.”

“Your wire was jammed and your team didn’t hear you signal for backup.” Dr. Sweets talked slowly, patient and pragmatic as he validated your nightly anxieties. “You expected help, but they didn’t know to come.”

“They did come,” you said with a shrug. “It just… almost wasn’t in time. I know it wasn’t their fault.”

Your words about time felt glued into your ears. Yours had come really close to running out. And for what? Insurance fraud? No amount of money justified murder, and you likewise couldn’t put a price tag on a life. So why were you so eager to leap back into the same job that almost cost you yours?

It was something you had been mulling over since it happened. Your job was dangerous. You had always known that. You’d been shot at, been near explosives… your partner had been abducted by a murderer not that long ago, and your best friend had had guns in his face so often that, honestly, you’d lost count a while ago. Somehow it just hadn’t clicked, you supposed, that you could legitimately die. You were protected by the bureau and your body armor, until that wasn’t enough. Other agents had learned that lesson in a much harder way; being confronted with that was hard to simply get over.

Apparently, your use of the word “fault” led Dr. Sweets to talk to you about guilt and anger around the incident. You didn’t blame your partner or feel angry, except at the man who shot you, but you let him continue around your noncommittal, half-assed answers. You knew he at least suspected you were putting him on again, but you also knew you hadn’t given him much to work with. Then again, he didn’t call you on your bullshit replies, either, so you weren’t quite sure what he thought.

While Dr. Sweets had yet to approve you for field duty, there was still plenty to do at your desk. You pretended not to notice the itch in your legs to go somewhere while you kept yourself busy, preparing documents, performing research, helping delegate and manage case files, and topping off your team’s coffee whenever they got low. You had become even more of a desk jockey than Neal; at least he got to go out with Peter when given the green light. You missed outings with your partner, or really with any other agent.

Comparing yourself to a caged tiger was likely on the dramatic side, so you put it out of your mind and refused to feel sorry for yourself. You understood the protocols and the routines and they were for your benefit as much as the bureau’s. Besides, your team wasn’t treating you like you were fragile or demoted. They leaned on you to help just as much as they ever did, the assignment of duties just went a little differently.

You doodled a cat on your notepad during a meeting. Everyone had great ideas and you tossed in some ways you could contribute when you’d been quiet for a while. Peter’s proposed field op was going to go smoothly. Odds were high that any hiccups could be taken care of by Diana’s swift running of interference. Neal was raring to go and Jones was a little too excited to play the part of an intimidating brute, in your opinion, and Peter was appropriately apprehensive (someone ought to be, after what had happened to you).

“Let’s sleep on it,” Peter decided after looking out the window and seeing how low the sun had sunk. “If we’re all still in agreement in the morning, we’ll set the ball in motion.”

Jones graciously commented, “Good idea. We can all think on it.” He was probably the most cautious of all of you.

“Y/N?” Neal asked. You immediately looked up from your (admittedly lopsided) cat drawing. The forger was still in his chair, even while the others were pulling on their coats and blazers. “You’ve been quiet. Do you have any concerns?”

You shook your head, but not too quickly that it raised suspicion. You could get away with doodling – Peter often turned a blind eye to it; after several years, he’d developed a soft spot for you – but only if you were still paying attention and participating, so you didn’t want to give him a reason to suspect you weren’t.

Peter, Diana, and Jones all said their goodbyes. The two younger agents left the room, but Peter lingered at the doorway.

“Neal, do you want a ride?” He offered.

Neal looked from you to Peter, and then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll find my way. You don’t want to be late for roast,” he added when Peter looked unconvinced. After glancing at you, your partner decided that he really didn’t want to be late for roast and left without another look over his shoulder.

Now that you were alone, Neal softened his expression. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I told you, I’m not worried. We’ve thought of just about everything we can predict.” You said with a straight face, pretending not to know that Neal wasn’t just talking about this specific case anymore.

He wasn’t having it. “Don’t lie to a conman, Y/N,” he chided you with a small, fond smile. “Come on. It’s not just today, you’ve been quiet ever since you came back. It’s not like you.” You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips, uninterested in talking. Neal reached partway across the table for you but stopped there. It was an invitation but not a command. “I’m worried about you.”

The thing about your history with Neal was that it was a close one. You went from strangers when Peter got him out of Sing Sing to best friends within the span of two years. You trusted him more than you trusted just about anyone, and there hadn’t been a time when one of you needed the other and was turned away. He didn’t come to you when he was upset – seeking out reassurance and comfort was not Neal’s strength, because it involved professing vulnerability – but he never turned you away when you came to offer it, either. Now it seemed to be his turn to do the offering, as he had realized over the last few weeks that you weren’t going to ask.

You reached for his hand and silently sighed in relief at how solid and warm it was to the touch, so unlike the few dreams where you screamed and cried for someone to help and found yourself grasping at tricks that weren’t there. Neal turned his hand to hold yours and gave it a squeeze.

“It’s been so hard, Neal,” you told him reluctantly. “I have no idea how you do it. How you just walk away from all the close calls.”

Neal frowned a little. “I don’t just walk away,” he objected. “I have bad nights. I have bad days. Sometimes I have a whole bad week, or a few bad months.” You knew the latter was a reference to losing Kate, and you sympathetically gripped his hand tighter. “But, you know… there’s always something I can find to focus on instead, and after a while, the things go in the past. I let go.”

That advice was entirely unhelpful. “I’ve been trying to let go,” you said sourly. It wasn’t directed at him, exactly, but moreso at your brain, which was failing in its task of moving past what happened. “It’s not working. I can’t sleep. Sometimes I don’t think I can breathe.”

“It’s not easy,” Neal agreed, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. It was an intimately affectionate gesture that comforted and eased the nerves beginning to bubble in your stomach. “Company helps. The reminder that I have backup, even when it doesn’t come right away. I’ve got Peter, Moz. You.” He met your eyes with a small smile and raised your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“Company?” You echoed uncertainly. If you were unconscious, how was company going to make a difference to what you dreamed about? Then you remembered what you had said to Dr. Sweets about your nightmares always ending with being alone. If you knew, on some level, that you weren’t alone, maybe you would feel safer. “Like, overnight?”

His expression didn’t change to give away whether you were right or wrong. Instead, he just asked, evenly, “Is that what you need?” The way he looked at you then, without judgment in his eyes, but with determination in the set of his jaw, you just knew that whatever you said you needed, Neal would move a mountain to give it to you.

“I’m not sure, but… maybe?” You hesitantly guessed. If it worked, it would be worth the awkwardness. Even just one night of solid sleep would do wonders for how you felt, and it wasn’t like it would be the first time you had stayed with Neal overnight. Long marathons on slow weekends, and the less pleasant nights after Kate’s death, meant he kept an extra toothbrush and a set of your pajamas in his penthouse.

“Okay,” he said right away with nothing but quiet matter-of-factness. It was so comforting to be proven right that you could rely on him to help you with what you needed. His tone just said, you need this, so we’re doing it, full-stop. You just hoped you were right, both so you could finally go eight hours without fearing for your life and so you weren’t inconveniencing him for no reason. “Let’s get dinner on the way. We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly said, seeing your face. “Whatever you need.”

Everyone should have a friend like Neal, but everyone should find their own, because this one was all yours. If it weren’t for the table in the way, you would’ve launched yourself at him in a tight hug. As it was, you settled for a squeeze of his hand and a grin as wide as you could muster. “Dinner sounds great.”

The stickiness of your pants along your thigh made your hands shake, unable to bring yourself to look at your palms. You knew what you would see all over them. The fire lancing up your thigh told you what you already knew. So did the weakness in your body and the fog in your mind. It was done. The hourglass on the desk was trickling through the last of its sand. Moretti was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t even die in the presence of a murderer.

There was screaming coming from another room. It was the desperate wail of another agent begging for their life. “No! Please!”

“No,” you mumbled, using all of your energy to turn your head to the doorway. He couldn’t… not now that you were down… you couldn’t even raise your voice to cry for help. You were completely helpless. You couldn’t save him.

Your chest burned with the effort of your heart, ironically helping you to bleed out faster. Your breaths came labored, and then they couldn’t come at all as your vision faded. The dark carpet blurred from a mass of pilled fibers into a solid navy sea. The pain in your leg was excruciating, it was all you could feel; the idea of feeling peace ever again slipping away.

Screaming. Banging. Footsteps. More screaming. Pounding. Shouting. It was all indistinguishable, a mess of men’s voices and loud gunshots. Then, you heard it. Just your name, barely audible above the rest, in a voice that made you strain to see past the blackness.

“Y/N!”

You’d give the rest of your precious seconds away just to see him one last time, just to know he was beside you and you weren’t alone.

“Y/N!”

Footsteps came closer and the pressure on your chest intensified. The blood loss made you dizzy and your body shook.

“Y/N!”

You jolted awake, eyes snapping open in time to see Neal leaning out of the way just in time to avoid your hand flying at his face. You processed slowly that his hands were on your shoulders – had he shaken you? – and it was still dark. You could barely see his face, but his figure was lit from behind by the lamp next to his bed. You could tell from his messy hair that he had been sleeping not long ago, and you felt awful for waking him up.

After cursing, you sat up and gripped the warm blanket on your lap tightly. “I’m sorry,” you said remorsefully, feeling like a fool. Not only hadn’t you been able to sleep through the night, but now you’d ruined his rest, too. You cussed again. “I really hoped being close… just not being at my apartment, alone…”

It had felt like a safe bet off to a good start. You had gotten dinner together near Gramercy Park, then watched a lighthearted movie before turning in for bed. Neal offered to let you take his mattress, but you didn’t want to put him out and you had slept over enough that he didn’t feel like a bad host for letting you insist on the sofa. You’d been out by ten, but now you could guess it had been less than four hours. Your heart was still racing, your leg still tense with an imagined pain.

“It’s okay,” Neal said, sounding unsettled. He kept his hands on your shoulders like he was keeping you grounded on the earth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

Neal’s eyes must have already adjusted to the low light, because his aim was spot-on when he lifted a hand from your shoulder to cup your neck instead. His profile ducked and you felt his lips land on your forehead, checking your temperature, signalling forgiveness, and administering reassurance all at once. He rubbed his thumb across your jaw as he stood up straight, releasing you, and walked away around the couch.

You put your legs down in front of you and rubbed your face, exhausted mentally and physically. Helplessness made you want to cry. Time wasn’t healing. Sleeping pills just made it harder to wake up, letting the nightmares ravage your psyche for longer. Not even the proximity of someone you trusted and adored was enough to let go of the past.

The light in the kitchen came on, bright enough to illuminate the studio but far enough away not to be blinding. Neal came back to the couch holding a bottle of water and offered it to you before sitting down. He looked so adorable, still sleepy and with a bit of pink in the side of his face from sleeping with his arm under his pillow. You scolded yourself for even thinking about how cute he was when you were the one who had woken him up.

You sipped at the water. It was so nice and smooth on your throat. You felt fine, now that you were awake, but the vividness of your nightmares always left you feeling parched and you always expected swallowing to hurt as if you had strep. Neal leaned into the back of the couch and put his arm up along the cushions. You capped the water, bent your knees to pull your feet back up onto the furniture, and let yourself lean into his side. Neal dropped his arm softly on your shoulders, holding you in a tender sideways hug.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again after a couple of minutes. You felt much better, much faster than you usually did, thanks to him, and if you were being fully honest, you were not ready for him to get up and go back to bed, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to stay up cuddling you at god-knows-what-time just because you were a wreck.

“I told you, it’s okay,” Neal said, his voice firm. If you apologized again, you figured he would start scolding you for it, so you let it go.

“I just – I should’ve expected this,” you said with frustration, feeling like you were confessing to knowingly bothering him. “I haven’t been able to sleep well in ages. I keep having these nightmares, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Neal was quiet for a few seconds, making sure you had said all you were inclined to. Then, knowingly, he asked, “This is about the Moretti case, isn’t it?”

“I can’t let it go,” you said with a whimper. “It won’t leave me alone. Every night, it’s a little bit different, but at its core it’s always the same.”

Neal’s voice cutting through the fog of your nightmare had been a saving grace, giving you peace even in your unconscious, but now that you were awake, you realized with clarity that his voice saying your name wasn’t the only voice you could make out. In fact, you always heard the same thing, every night, no matter what else changed.

“What’s the same, Y/N?” Neal asked you, trying to help. He stroked your upper arm with his open hand. You were already shaking your head. Neal could comfort you all he liked, but he couldn’t bring back the dead. In grief and shame, you turned your head and bent your neck to bury your face in his shoulder. Neal tilted his head so his cheek was resting gently on your hair. “Tell me, darling,” he coaxed in a whisper.

You felt like someone’s hands were wrapped around your throat, strangling your reply. “Agent Flynn,” you answered dryly, barely more than mouthing his name. “In every nightmare, I hear… I hear his last words. Begging Moretti not to take the shot.”

Neal was quiet for a long time, but never pushed you away. He held you closer when you started to shake, crying against him as quietly as you could manage. The artist rubbed your arm and periodically kissed your head, but he knew that there was nothing he could say to erase the horror of what you had heard or take away the guilt that you had survived because Moretti was distracted by taking out the other agent.

Moretti was part of a family gang, often in conflict with the Barellis, who, interestingly, paid a little deference to the white-collar division ever since you and Peter had recovered a stolen Book of Hours. The Morettis had no such connection or gratitude, so their response to the FBI sticking their nose into an embezzling scam was violent and bloody. Moretti shot you in the leg and intended to finish you off, but one of his own men had reported you came with someone. He left you to bleed out, and only a few rooms over, you had heard Flynn’s pleas – and the subsequent gunshot. Your team, wising up to the dead signal, arrived for a takedown before Moretti could make his way back to you, but it was too late for your teammate.

Neal shifted after what felt like forever, only to pull you closer to his chest and wrap both arms around you. You trembled in his embrace, but that just made him hold you closer, like you were delicate and breakable. When he next talked, his low voice was quivering, just like your body.

“I thought we lost you,” he said, cupping the back of your head in a gentle hand. He massaged his fingers into your scalp, even as he kept you cuddled in his lap. “I thought I lost you, Y/N. Two gunshots. I thought…” He struggled to find his words and you hiccuped, trying to stop crying. “I was the one who found you, and I was so scared I was too late.”

You sniffled and uncrossed your arms to melt against his chest and hug him tightly around his waist instead. “I didn’t know you…”

“We found him first, but you weren’t there and I needed to find you.” Neal now sounded equal parts frightened and furious. “If he had taken you away, I would’ve…” He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, as desperate to be close to you as you felt to be close to him. “I would’ve shattered. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I just can’t lose you, too.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t die,” you blurted, almost in a sob. You felt so safe with him, but now you knew for a fact that your own safety wasn’t what had been tormenting you. It was a nearly debilitating case of survivor’s guilt. “I just wish I hadn’t been the only one who survived.”

“No one wants that,” Neal promised you, untangling his hand from your hair and stroking it down instead. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this and take it away, but all I can do is be here and hold you and tell you it’s going to be alright. It wasn’t your fault.”

You sniffed. Neal’s words were more of a comfort than you had thought they would be. They changed nothing about the situation, but… you weren’t alone. You hadn’t been alone since you met him. You just agonized that Flynn had been. “Neal, I can’t lose you, either. I love you, you’re… you’re who I’m going to heal for.” You had to find a way.

Neal seized your lips with his in a searing kiss. It wasn’t as sexy or patient as you may have imagined, but you gripped his shirt and gave as good as you got, and wow, the man gave verygood. It was a desperate kiss, needing to bring you together and reaffirm your life. To you, it was the seal of a promise that you wouldn’t let the past crush your spirit. When you could sleep through the night and had a handle on your post-traumatic stress… if he would just be patient, you would be his the way you wanted him to be yours.

He released you to breathe, eyes opening wide as if he only just realized what he had done. Before he could pull away, you pressed your forehead to his again, urging him to stay close. Your breaths mingled between you and you were sure you could feel his heart beating through his chest.

“I love you, too,” he said once he had caught his breath.

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 11 “VoiceFarting” [Episode List] Tim and Adam are hanging out on... Liscord, playing some stuff together, waiting for Dave to join them for a game. When Adam unexpectedly has to leave however, Dave decides to do some… microphone testing.

VoiceFarting

“I’m going in as a mage ‘cause you fuckers can’t cast for shit” I heard Adam say right into my ears.

This was one of our usual game nights. We’d voice chat on Liscord on our own server and all that stuff. Adam was being, for the lack of a better term, kind of bitchy, ‘cause he thinks as himself as the most skilled gamer around even though we’re always reviving his ass. In the end it’s all in good fun of course, but we’d all happily mute him during a match if we could.

“Yes, Adam. Have fun with the ‘easy mode’ character.” I said, deliberately baiting him.

“Listen here you little shit” he immediately blurted “I can accept that you’re gay but I’m not going to accept the fact that you’re a scrub.” he said, obviously joking, though he did take skills seriously during a match.

“Yeah yeah but I’m the one using the axe, fighting enemies face-to-face like a man.” I kept teasing him. “How’s going up there? Still casting light arrows from your safe space?” I cackled.

“Excuse me???” his icon lighting up, the audio clipping “Why don’t we check your stats instead? Too afraid of looking like the scrub you are??? I literally made no mistakes last time.”

“Of course you didn’t: the chance of making mistakes is like 0% when you stand still and far from the battle.”

There was a moment of silence, then I heard Adam’s breath into the mic “You know I know where you live, right?”

I laughed but before I could continue this very deep and mature battle of wits, we both heard the sound notifying us that our bud Dave joined the voice chat. Now, whenever Dave joins, we usually hear every sound except for his voice, so we were ready to have our ears busted because of the noi-

“Hey noobs!” Dave greeted us, with a voice that was instead crystal clear.

“What the hell” both me and Adam said, our avatars lighting up at the same time.

“I see you noticed that you can now hear my beautiful voice perfectly.” he bragged, and rightfully so.

Normally we could hear his PC’s fans, what was going on down the street, cars passing by, atoms crashing into each others… farts. But now it was just Dave with his now-soothing voice calling us names.

“Are you finished?” Adam said.

But there was no response from Dave.

“Did he finally die?” Adam continued.

I heard a faint sigh of relief from Dave and then he went “Yeah, now I’m finished.”

I kind of suspected what happened but I didn’t say a word.

“Wait. You didn’t hear a thing?” Dave asked, puzzled.

Both me and Adam shrugged as if he could see us, but then said that no, we didn’t.

My detective skills told me that my gassy straight bud ripped one of his classic loud farts, but the new microphone had that “background noise reduction” feature (which my friend seriously needed) so it didn’t register his ass-blast as the old one usually did, so much so that Dave’s frequent farts would eventually turn into white noise for the rest of us. But now, his new headset was actually worth the price and all we could hear was indeed his voice.

“Can we just get into the game befo-“ Adam blurted, but was cut off mid-sentence by a loud, ear-piercing sound coming from Dave, though that wasn’t him speaking or screaming.

My fartbro really didn’t want us to miss what his ass is capable of, so we were both startled by a powerful, audio-clipping fart that completely overwhelmed our voice begging him to stop. And he did stop, but only after like 12 seconds. The rip was followed by the sound of Dave re-adjusting his microphone and laughing. “Hopefully you heard that now.” he chuckled.

I did hear it. I was very familiar with it. Truth is that Dave farting during our game sessions wasn’t anything new however. Even I was used to it, though that did pitch a tent in my shorts. I started wondering whether Dave was in jeans, shorts or boxers. Probably the latter, and shirtless, given that it was a warm evening. I tried to not to let my usual simp-ness over my bro take over me but apparently it was already too late, as I didn’t even notice Adam begin pissed off about an unwanted phone call.

“I’m sorry guys, I gotta take this one.” he said, annoyed. “Do not wait for me. Cya tomorrow I guess.”

And logged off, another sound notifying us that he went into the terrible real world realm.

“Alone at last, bro.” Dave said, in a flirty tone, just as Adam left.

I laughed and mindlessly switched to a different, this time single-player game as we needed at least 3 guys to play, one of those brutal action games that I suck at but I have to beat.

Dave did the same, with a similar game, and we both started gaming on our own but keeping each other company, like we usually do, occasionally exchanging opinions on what we were playing and so on.

“It’s probably his ex-girlfriend” Dave said.

“Yeah. I figured.” I simply answered.

Adam wasn’t really talkative about his personal stuff like me or even Dave, so neither us really knew what was going on. But if our bud didn’t want us to know, not fully know at least, then we respect this decision.

After a couple of more minutes of silence, I heard some sounds coming from Dave. Not a fart, this time though.

“Did you say something?” I asked.

I heard some muffled noises and then Dave’s voice, lower than usual though “I’m just messing with the settings here. I feel like sometimes the volume gets messed up.” and he was right.

“Yeah the audio is kind of low now.” I warned him.

I heard some more noises (keyboard tapping, mouse clicking, etc.) and then I heard him speak again.

Or, to be more precise, he did make a sound with his mouth, though those weren’t words; a loud belch, actually, right into my ears. Dave was more of a farter, but he wasn’t new to wild, incredible burps. I honestly prefer the more disgusting butt explosion, but I still tip my hat at my bro being a masterful air-bender from both ends.

“Yes, I did hear that.” I said, anticipating his question.

He laughed. “Thank you.” he answered, belching both word with care.

A couples of minutes of silence followed, with just me and Dave occasionally chatting but overall trying to be focused on our respective games. My straight bro was however not done with the “testing”.

“Are you hearing this bro?” he suddenly asked, trying not to laugh.

“No…?” I was puzzled.

“Wait. Let me just…”

I heard Dave removing his headset and as it got farther away from his head, a familiar sound got louder and louder instead, until it became unbearable.

“Are you hearing this now?” he shouted, though I could heard him over that sound.

The sound of yet another loud blast of gas, so loud it was glitching the audio. It was long and proud, dry as some of his best rips, and it just wouldn’t stop. The boss I was fighting somehow felt how distracted I was and one-shotted me with a swipe of his flaming sword but I couldn’t even hear any in-game sound ‘cause my straight gassy bro was basically farting right into my ears, albeit indirectly.

I instinctively reached for the pitched tent between my legs as the fart kept going strong and loud, so loud in fact that I had to lower the volume ‘cause my hears were starting to hurt.

After a grand total of 18 seconds, I once again heard Dave putting his headphones back on his head, wondering whether they were radioactive or melting at this point, due to all that poisonous gas.

“I gotta say… the sound quality is pretty spot-on. What headset are you using?” I joked.

Dave chuckled. “The same as yours actually. Thanks for the advice.”

We kept chatting a bit more as if he wasn’t a gassy teasing bastard but since he *is* a gassy teasing bastard I once again heard him, with no warning nor request from me, removing his headphones again and putting them (I assume) closer to the source of his underwear-clad ass.

Unsurprisingly, yet another manly, loud rip blasted through my own headphones right into my eardrums, renewing the hard-on I had only moments before. It sounded like a motorcycle passing by and I could only imagine how badly the stench was in Dave’s room. Lasting around 11 seconds, this time it got dangerously wet-ish towards the end, which I found hilarious but also made me rightfully worried about my bro maybe going a bit too far even for both of our standards.

“Dude.” I said, laughing a bit “You might want to go easy. That sounded risky.”

Dave, being the chill guy he is, just laughed about it. “Don’t worry, dude. I’m an expert.” and he ripped a short toot that was so loud I could even hear it without the microphone going straight into his butt this time.

We then kept gaming a bit more on our own. Dying over and over to that same boss made me think about how chill Dave was being -as usual- about my kink. I mean don’t get me wrong he always farted a lot while voice chatting but this time it was different, as he was now aware of my fetish. And, as always, I really appreciated that, just as I appreciated yet another thunderous blast, one that actually startled me, making me lose YET AGAIN.

“FUCK!” I blurted.

As the fart kept going, Dave moved the microphone closer to his face (but I still could hear the fart going) just to laugh at my gaming skills, completely aware however that his farts were a huge distraction on its own. He then planted the microphone once again in front of his butt and the blast went loud and proud.

“It’s just too easy.” he then chuckled, after finishing ripping that monstrous fart.

It was. I had to pause the game for a couple of minutes to calm down, the tent between my legs going harder and harder. Was Dave aware of this part as well? Of course he was, but he didn’t care. It was just a game for him, and he was constantly proving me how much of a pro gamer he was.

I hope he never gets nerfed.

End of Episode 11

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 taehyung x reader ft yoongi || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 8.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 riddled with insomnia, you’d just about do anything to get a good night’s rest. enter sandman.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 masturbation (m), voyeurism, exhibitionism, public sex, mile high club, oral (m receiving), choking, deepthroating, cockwarming but in her throat, throat bulge, way more male oral than i’ve ever written oop, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, riding, tentacles, yes you did read that correctly user honeymoonjin is expanding her wares, buckets of cum, like really a ridiculous amount of it, is it somnophilia if they’re fucking in her dreams?, cum eating, rough nipple play, hair pulling, belly bulge, creampie

many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner, she really outsold xx many thanks as well to @honey-boyyoongi for beta reading and helping a lot on plot. i wouldn’t have finished this fic without her xx this fic is a part of the monster smash project at ksmutclub : )

It’s a shit fair.

You make sure to tell Yoongi this several times throughout the afternoon, more emphatically as the hours drag on, but he’s too focussed on giving heart-eyes to the young man tending the water pistol stall. The man, who has held an unbelievably cheery grin all night, at some point got caught in the stream of a kid with poor aim, and though it’s warm his shirt still hasn’t dried, leaving a rather promiscuous set of dark spots on his chest behind the translucent cotton. You think Yoongi might be drooling.

You’ve just about given up wandering around aimlessly waiting for your friend to get the courage to actually approach the guy, when a stall catches your attention. Unsurprising, considering how gaudy and kitschy it is. Heavy embroidered tapestries form a makeshift curtain across the entrance to the booth, and above rests a sign with neon striplighting that reads Enter Sandman. You bite your lip, ignoring Yoongi’s impatient tug on your arm. You don’t remember seeing it on any of your other turns around the small fairground, though you can’t imagine how you could’ve possibly missed it.

Without breaking your gaze, you address Yoongi. “I’m gonna check out some stalls.”

“Come on, you’re gonna ditch me in my time of need?” Yoongi’s voice is playfully lilting, the kind that lets you know it’s okay to leave while simultaneously promising that he’ll complain about your abandoning him later, probably at four in the morning when neither of you can get to sleep.

“Yup,” you mumble blankly, and shake off his grip, making your way across the slightly uneven dirt and trampled grass to reach the stall. You feel drawn, strangely, to the narrow dark triangle of shadow between the folds of the curtain. It’s only once you get nearer that you make out the patterns of the delicate stitching: swirls of gold thread weave around figures, horizontal or curled up, all in dull shades of brown and beige. Entranced, you reach out your fingers to follow the swirls of gold. The tapestry, instead of ending in edges over the entrance, is folded so that the pictures trail around the edge. Without thinking to politely announce your presence, you simply slip inside, feeling the late summer humidity lead to a shady coolness.

It’s dark inside, and silent. Nothing illuminates the small room except for a single candle on a table, a black tall taper, drops of wax running cleanly down the sides to stain the golden tablecloth. It’s luckily enough to just make out the reflective glint of the gold thread, and you follow the tapestry slowly as it runs all the way along the walls inside. Part of you feels this is futile, and you shouldn’t be poking around in an empty stall when the owner was out, but still you walk deeper into the booth, the texture of embroidery teasing the tips of your fingers.

At one point, closer to the back of the room, your shadow begins to block the candlelight, and you squint, barely making out the trail of golden swirls. An odd protrusion in the wall causes you to step back, losing the trail for a moment but picking it up, a bright gold patch, perfectly circular and shining like-

“What are you doing in my tent?”

You gasp and jump back, bumping your lower back on a wooden chair tucked into the table. A hand shoots out, latches tightly onto your wrist. You freeze, following the arm up a sleeve, and to a chest, black silk with a pendant dangling just below his collarbones, a single gold coin. Your eyes jump up, apology on your tongue, but you can’t force your mouth to move when you’re greeted with two gleaming eyes, trained solely on you.

No, not gleaming. Glowing.

You swallow hard as he blinks slowly, eyebrows narrowed and partially blocking what looks like swirling irises of molten gold, a depth that draws you in. “I- sorry,” you croak finally, feeling his grip around your wrist loosen, the delicate bones aching. “It did say ‘enter’.”

You can’t be sure in the dim lighting, but a slight flash of white makes you think he’s smirking at you. “My sign says ‘Enter Sandman’. Are you a sandman?”

You blink slowly. “No.”

“Hm, I didn’t think so. I am the sandman. And you are the trespasser.”

Your mind feels hazy, two beats too slow. “Do you want me to… leave, then?”

His hand lets go of yours completely. It leaves you feeling oddly unmoored. “You could leave,” he offers lightly, “but then you’d never get my help.”

You want to turn around, some illogical urge to make sure the exit is still free, that the fair is still in full swing outside. It feels so quiet in here. But you don’t want to turn your back on him. The hairs on the back of your neck are at full attention and your instincts are going haywire like a faulty compass, unsure what to feel. You swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Your help?”

The gilded glow of his eyes - some modern fashion contacts, no doubt - gently illuminate the dark eyelashes that frame them. They narrow at the corners, like he’s grinning at you. “My help,” he echoes. “You look tired, little girl. Can’t get to sleep?”

The blood in your veins runs cold. In the cool shade of the tent, goosebumps break out along your arms. “How did you know that? Are you meant to be a psychic or something?”

His tongue clicks in irritation. “I’m a sandman. I believe I told you that. I can promise you restful sleep every night. For a price.”

You scoff, the reality of the situation dawning on you. Cool shtick, you allow. The dude certainly had a good way of setting up atmosphere. “Let me guess, $29.99 plus tax? Or buy a whole week for a hundred? Thanks, but no thanks.”

You turn before he manages to reply. In fact, he remains still in the time it takes you to stumble around the table in the dark, making your way to the bright sliver of light streaming in through the folds of the tapestry. Your hand is on the rough fabric before you hear his honeyed voice again.

“My price isn’t currency,” he states simply.

Your hand remains frozen in the air. Damn you and your constant curiosity. “What is it, then?” you ask, twisting around. Now that your silhouette isn’t blocking the candlelight, you can make out a vague outline. He’s tall, but you already knew that from the height of his eyes. “Your price, I mean.”

He steps forward, just one foot dusting the exposed ground, but it’s enough to bring him closer to the light, enough for the dancing flame to shine upon his face.

With the lighting from below, heavy shadows are cast below his brows and his hairline, but you can see the warm bronze tone to his skin, and the fine bone structure below it. He’s still smirking, just the slightest quirk to his lips, and his chin is jutted forward smugly. He’s gorgeous.

You can’t help but swallow again as his piercing eyes stay fixed upon you, the slight pink of his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth as his grin widens. “Dream of me.”

You feel like you’re floating. You’re in a bathroom, looking in on a shower. Although the glass should be fully fogged up, with the rest of the room humid with steam, you can see through perfectly, to the naked form inside.

In real life, you would leave immediately, at the very least turn away, but in the hazy logic of your dream, you simply observe.

His head is against the wall, forehead pressed to the tile as water pelts down his tanned back. One hand props him up; the other is between his legs, fisting at an angry red erection. It drips precum with every jerk of his wrist, disappearing amongst the slightly soapy water that circles the drain. You can’t see his face with how the sodden bronzed locks of his hair cling to it.

Although the showerhead seems to be spraying full power, his pleasure-filled groans are what fill your ears. The way they trail off shakily every time he twists his wrist just below the tip, the gruff curses under his breath. You listen and watch as he falls apart from his own ministrations, the muscles in his buttocks clenching as he begins to thrust into his hand, panting slightly.

Like hearing from underwater, you slowly becoming aware of a murmur that the man chants, louder and faster each time, as his hand speeds up. Your mind runs slower than treacle, but you do your best to focus.

“Y/n! Y/n, fuck, yes! God, right there, I’m not gonna last, fuck!”

You mentally recoil, though your body simply continues to watch, honed in on the way his whole body undulates, chasing the pleasure with every fibre of his being. He moans your name, panting onto the slippery tile. He’s close; you can tell by the way his hips shudder.

With a shout, he spills himself onto the floor of the shower, spurts of it catching and running down the wall, pooling at the bottom before washing away. He jerks himself languidly until the last drop runs down over his knuckles, and then lets out a satisfied exhale, using his toes to wipe away the last of it, before straightening up again, rinsing his face in the stream.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he says one last time with a relieved sigh, “mm, thank you.”

Finally, he stretches out an arm blindly to reach for the metal nozzle, cutting the flow of water short. He tips his head back, pressing at his scalp to wring out some of the water, and you catch your first real glimpse of his face. A face you recognise very well. As you stare at the man you had met in the tent, the details of the bathroom blur away, fading into wisps of steam. His eyes, glowing gold, are the last two pinpricks of detail before the dream dissolves into nothingness.

You wake up with a jolt, the sheets underneath you sticky with sweat. It was real. You dismiss the thought with a shake of your head the moment it occurs to you. If anything, it was probably just your mind playing on what had happened as a way of processing it. But then again, you had slept the night through for the first time in almost a year. Speaking of...

Sitting up and stretching languidly, you curse upon viewing your alarm clock. You’d slept through your first class. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” you mutter in resignation, frowning when you become aware of a prickling sensation in your eye.

You rub at it, only to hiss when a sharp stinging sensation attacks the sensitive nerves. Blinking away the tears that spring up, you kick off your blankets, jogging barefoot to the bathroom to inspect it in the mirror.

Leaning in close enough that your breath creates little foggy patches on the glass, you make out some substance clogging up the inner corner of your right eye. There’s some on the left too, though not as much, and you use a wet wipe to carefully brush it out.

In confusion, you pull away the wipe and inspect the grit that’s come away. Like something you might find at a luxurious beach (though you haven’t been to one since you were a kid) a clump of golden sand sits on the moistened fabric, finer and more delicate than caster sugar. The colour reminds you of the hair of the man in your dream, of the man you met the day before. What the fuck? With a deep breath, you force yourself to clear out the rest of the sand from your eyes and clear the worry from your head.

“What sand tent?”

You stare at Yoongi in something mildly related to disgust as he shovels an ungodly amount of beef wrapped in a lettuce leaf into his mouth, dark dipping sauce gathering at the corners of his mouth. “A sandman tent. You know, the big neon sign? It was right beside the little homemade fudge stall.”

He chews noisily, brows furrowed in thought. “The one old Jeanie set up? That was right at the end of the row, Y/n, there wasn’t anything past that.” You go to protest, but Yoongi makes a sound of disagreement. “Seriously, Y/n, there wasn’t. I remember because she was complaining to me about the organisers trying to hide her stall since she’s taking all their business. I went there for some of her earl grey fudge but that certainly wasn’t the tea I ended up getting.”

You roll your eyes at his joke, but your heart isn’t in it. “I went in the tent, though. There was a dude there and everything. He said he’d give me a good night’s sleep if I dreamed of him, and I said sure, and for the first time in fucking ages I actually managed to sleep properly.”

Yoongi’s chopsticks hover over the beef sizzling on the barbecue. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Dream of him,” Yoongi clarifies.

You think back to the sight of him in the shower, streams of clear water washing away the cream he spilled on the floor, of the way his eyes pierced into you right as you woke up. Your cheeks heat at the lewd imagery. Normally your memory of dreams faded over the day - at least, when you were a kid they did. But every detail seems branded in your mind in full definition. Ducking your head, you reach out for a strip of cooked meat and avoid your friend’s gaze.

“Oh my god, you did! Was he hot?”

“Yoongi!”

“What? If he was, I wanna go track him down and get a dream. Why does all the cool shit happen to you?”

You sigh, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. You can never stay mad at him and he knows it. “Shut up and eat your damn lettuce wraps,” you mutter petulantly.

Over the lunch spent with Yoongi, you find the thought of the mysterious man slip from your mind, instead feeling reenergised from your good rest and cheered up from the good food and company.

You dream of him again the next night. Not a bathroom this time; an airplane. At the start, it feels like reality, only slightly more...fluid. The strange quality of a dream where everything is simultaneously crystal clear and blurred.

He’s beside you, the middle seat as you take the window. Outside, clouds melt into blue sky and in the cabin there are faceless individuals filling the seats.

“You dirty girl,” the sandman whispers, a hand on the inside of your knee. “You’re soaked for me.”

You widen your eyes and look down. The moment you see the dark patch forming in the crotch of your pants, a wave of arousal hits you as if it’s on a delay. “Yeah,” you breathe in awe. “Want you.”

His eyes sparkle behind thick lashes. “Oh, do you really?”

You bite your lip. “Please.” For a moment he looks remarkably casual, commonplace. He tilts his head at you and leans back, drawing your attention to his dress shirt and tie, and perfectly ironed pants, but when you drop his gaze to look over them, you gasp.

His shirt is unbuttoned all the way, gaping open to reveal his unclothed chest. The tie dangles down his bare skin, guiding your eyes to his crotch, where his pants are lewdly spread open, zipper parted to reveal the waistband of his underwear. A delicate trail of golden hairs dip from below his belly button to underneath the fabric, and without thinking, your hand stretches out towards it, fingering the edge of the waistband.

Rather than speak, you give him a questioning glance, but what greets you makes you suck in a breath. Just like the first time you met, he’s radiant; godlike. His hair is a silken warm blonde, gentle waves that frame his delicately arched brows. And his eyes. When you meet his gaze, his irises glint and shift, a brilliant gold that swirls around dilated pupils. This is the first time you’ve seen him properly in the light.

He narrows them slightly in amusement, drinking in your reaction. With a barely-there background of the airplane cabin, general shapes and blurs, the man sitting beside you is in startling clarity. Everything seems to revolve around him, a fixation you can’t shake. “Please,” you mumble again unconsciously, hand slipping below the elastic of his underwear.

He’s hard as a rock, though his face shows no desperation, only mild amusement with the way you lick your lips. As you massage him indulgently, you can’t help but recall the sight of him in the shower. Would his cock be the same in this dream?

“Watch out,” he warns, before breaking your gaze to face the aisle. Belatedly, you hear a squeaky wheel, a trundle cart being pushed down towards you. As the figure of an air hostess slips into view, you attempt to quickly retract your hand, though it seems your brain and body aren’t on the same track anymore. Even as you mentally strain with the want to take your hand out of his pants, it refuses to cooperate, wrapping your fingers fully around his length, running your thumb over his head.

He chuckles lowly, head tipped back luxuriously on the head rest, devoid of any shame. The air hostess is talking to the two of you, but your cheeks burn and you can’t bear to look at her. The sandman calmly orders a hot tea, only pausing to groan in relief when your rogue hand slips him out of his pants and into the cool air of the cabin. He’s making conversation with her, discussing landing times and stopovers, and your eyes fill with embarrassed tears as you feel yourself bending down, dipping your head to take him in your mouth.

Unlike any men you’d been with before, he tastes slightly sweet, a flavour that satisfies your tastebuds. The moment your tongue dips out to swipe up the bead of precum that’s gathered, it’s like your humiliation melts away, and even though you feel yourself regaining control of your hand, you continue to pump the base of his cock, lapping up as much of the moreish taste of him as you can.

“Now that’s a good girl,” his honeyed voice soothes, a reassuring palm brushing your hair out of your face gently, “just give in to me.”

You moan around the head of his cock and suck him down deeper. As you lower your head more, it seems your perverted dream-logic has taken away your gag reflex, and soon you’re removing your hand, nose pressing against his hip bone. He lets out a low, purring groan, and you grip the flesh of his thigh through his pants in response. You can feel him in your throat as you begin to bob your head, but instead of feeling like you’re being suffocated, you just feel deliciously full. A wave of wet heat rushes between your legs as you picture how it would feel to be that full somewhere else.

“Yes,” he sighs, “god, it��s been so fucking long, don’t you dare stop.” You pull off him with a pop quickly to look up, expecting the air hostess to have moved on by now, your dream sequence having gone down a different path, but she stands there, perfectly put-together and professional as she stares down at you. Behind her, you notice with a jolt that everyone in their seats have turned to look at you; countless generic faces that blend into nothing the moment you look away.

“They’re all watching,” you comment with a raw throat, though arousal at the thought of it slides through you like a hot knife, feeling your pants cling to you, impossibly soaked.

His smile is radiant and the gold in his eyes darkens to burnished bronze. With a hand on the back of your neck, he guides you back down. “Then give them a show.” He moans low in his throat when you take him in your mouth again, tongueing at the veins that run along the underside. His fingers slip around the other side of your neck, pushing down on your voicebox. You can feel the way his constriction traps his cock in your throat. You can’t breathe, but it is no longer necessary, your heart thrumming gently in your chest even without oxygen to pump it.

He presses down more firmly, an iron grip around your throat that closes your throat around his length. “I wonder…” he muses. With a dark laugh that sounds almost inhuman, the man pulls slowly, lifting you off him until only the tip sits on the back of your palate, barely inside your throat. Though you don’t understand what’s going on, or how your mind has gotten so depraved to picture this, your clit throbs in your panties and you remain obediently in his grasp, waiting for his next move. “Mm, so you are going to be a good girl for me.” You feel pressure around your throat again, though this time he’s pushing you back down. With your throat cinched inside his grip, his cock pushes at the cartilage, completely blocking your airway. Your eyes water, but somehow you remain still, the only part of you moving being your head as he uses your throat as a cocksleeve, pushing you down until your lips touch the skin around the base of his cock.

He isn’t overly vocal, but his indulgent grunts and moans seem amplified in your ears. He moves faster once you continue to take it, fucking up into you every time he plunges you down. He reaches his end quickly this way, and when he flattens his other palm over your scalp and holds you there, a warm release sliding down your throat, sweet like condensed milk, so much that it bubbles up and pools in your cheeks, spilling down your chin.

When he finally releases you, you come up, sucking in a shuddering breath. The spectators are still there, though it looks like the scene around you is melting, falling in on itself. The lines between things become blurred, colours on their faces merging into dull greens and browns, like mixed paint. With a horrified gaze, you watch the morphing shapes begin to clap slowly, applauding your performance.

“I guess they liked it,” he plainly remarks. You turn to face him again, but his forehead is creased, eyes clenched shut in focus. “Fuck, that was so… I can’t hold it, shit-!”

The moment he swears, all detail begins to fall away faster than before, the vibrant gold of his hair and tanned skin blending away into a black nothingness with the rest of the plane, and you gasp, cracking your eyes open with the sound of applause still ringing in your ears, slowly sounding out into the buzzing phone on your bedside table. You fling your arm out from the warm covers, batting it around until you can turn off the alarm, and let out a groan.

Your eyes feel dry and crusty, like you’ve been sleeping for days, and when you rub at them the same gritty sensation from the night before stings the inner corners. You pull your fingers away and squint at what’s resting on the pads of your fingertips, unsurprised when you’re greeted with those fine grains of perfectly golden sand. Tearing up at the irritation, you gingerly remove as much as you can, swallowing the dryness in your throat. A small price to pay for decent rest, you promise yourself, though a slight curl of doubt rests stubbornly in the back of your mind.

That night, as you drift off blissfully early in the evening, you’re ready. Upon admitting to Yoongi that they were sex dreams - your friend was beyond jealous - he had managed to convince you that you were cursed by the mysterious stranger, that he was a witch or an incubus. His plan, which you are determined to execute tonight, involves confronting the man himself - “Don’t forget to ask him if he’ll give sex dreams upon request!” - and demanding that he releases you from the curse.

Though you were still a little sceptical that it was anything more than an overactive subconscious, you feel assured going to sleep that at least you know what to do should he return.

And return he does.

Not a bathroom this time, nor a plane. In fact, it’s an environment completely foreign to you, all the more hinting at the fact that this maybe isn’t just your mind conjuring strange scenarios. Like the other two times, you feel hazy and sluggish, and it takes you a while to distinguish the scene around you.

You become slowly aware of lush carpet fibres beneath your feet, the gentle hum of an air conditioning unit, almost totally drowned out by unintelligible murmuring, a television left on.

He is in the room with you, on a couch. Head tilted to the side, locks of thick gold rumpled and messy. Bare feet up on the coffee table and black sweatpants riding low, exposing a narrow strip of tanned flesh below his t-shirt, he looks unbelievably… domestic.

You swallow hard, steeling your nerve. “Hey.”

He remains unresponsive, eyes locked on the television. No, not completely unresponsive; the corner of his lip quirks just slightly. You tamp down a rising streak of irritation.

“Hey,” you repeat emphatically.

With a sigh, the young man reaches out for the remote that rests on the arm of the couch, muting the television. He flattens you with an unimpressed look. “Yes?”

“What are you doing in my dreams?” The question seems unbelievably childish once you say it, so you cross your arms petulantly. This does not help.

He quirks an eyebrow, grin widening to reveal his teeth. “Enjoying myself,” he answers simply.

You huff. “Your stupid tent thing at the fair, was it even real?”

“Did it feel real to you? Did I feel real?” When you simply press your lips closer together in annoyance, he drops the cockiness, leveling an impatient stare at you. “You gave me permission to be here, I hope you remember. Words have power, Y/n.”

You frown at him, unsettled. “I never told you my name.”

He barks out a condescending laugh. “And I never told you mine, but you know it, don’t you?”

You run your tongue over the edges of your teeth as you ponder this. His name comes to you like a fact once-forgotten. The moment you think it, you know wholeheartedly it’s right. “Taehyung. But- How do I know that?”

His eyebrow twitches down, like he’s tiring of your lack of understanding. “Because I’m in here, Y/n,” he hisses, pointing a finger to his temple. “I’m deep inside you, inside your subconscious. I can access every thought in that pretty little head of yours and you can’t do a single thing about it because you were the one that let me in.”

You balk at the fiery steel that has entered his expression, the molten gold in his iris darkening as a sneer stretches across his face. You swallow away your nerves, though your chest continues to flutter uncertainly. As if Taehyung is the focal point of this plane, which you suppose he is, colours and textures shift around him, blurring into shapeless swirls at the edges of your vision. Even as he sits in front of you in startling clarity, just as malevolent in sweatpants and a tee as he was standing over you in the dark of the tent, you find your eyes unable to move off of him. You clear your throat, tears pricking. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you defend weakly.

He laughs, one short bark that contains no real humor. “Yes, you did. I said ‘dream of me’ and you agreed. You just thought I was some fake scam artist, didn’t you?” With one swift movement, he stands up, and you falter back when you realise just how tall he is. He steps forward once, twice, three steps and his chest almost touches yours. While the swirling sands in his eyes normally jumped and flickered teasingly, now they churn in tight circles, belying his intent. You’re reminded of a shark circling in bloody water. “Well, Y/n,” Taehyung taunts, “do you believe me now?”

Though you tremble, you force yourself to push your chest forward and your chin up. “I believe you,” you allow, voice wavering only a little bit. “So, what are you?”

His lips tighten, eyes lifting to the ceiling in exasperation. You jump when you feel his hand brush your elbow, clasping your upper arm loosely. “Y/n, little Y/n,” he chastises, “stop asking questions that you already know the answer too. How terribly boring.”

You want to shake your arm out of his grip, but his touch is hot, like the heavy warmth of a fire, and you can’t help but want more of it. Judging by the way his fingertips tease at the sensitive skin of your shoulder, he knows it too. “Fine, you’re a sandman. What the fuck does that even mean?”

He sighs shortly, head tipping back down to catch your gaze. His arm drops, and you tremble at the cold air, feeling oddly put-out. “Sit down,” he commands simply. Without waiting for a response, he turns his back to you and flops his body onto the couch, kicking his feet back up onto the coffee table, eyes lazily following the characters on the muted television.

You bite your tongue, doing as he says. It’s strange; you’re barely aware of your own body in the dream, can barely feel the texture of the couch underneath you, yet every nerve in your body is hyper-fixated on the tingling remaining warmth from his hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself wanting to lean in to him in the hopes that he’ll put his hands on you again. You can’t help but wonder if it feels that electric if he touched you somewhere else.

Fuck. Snap out of it. “I’ve sat down now. Can you actually be serious and answer my questions?”

Like a switch is flipped, his grin drops and his eyebrows flatten. “Fine,” he allows in a chastising tone, “let’s be serious.” You watch in amazement as the scenery around you drops away. Like melting wax, the television, walls, coffee table, everything but the couch the two of you are on morph and fade away. “This is my terrain now,” he states calmly, “I choose what you see, what you experience, what you feel. So if I were you I wouldn’t be so rude to me.”

Your jaw moves for a few moments before you can voice anything. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes flicker, though the mischievous glint is gone. “I’m a sandman,” he explains simply. “I only exist in this dream realm. I can only interact with things in the dream realm. Out there, in your world, I have no sensation, no feeling. But if I can get a naive little human like you to give me access into your mind, then your dreams are my playground. And I fully intend to play.”

With a dry mouth, you clear your throat. “Fine,” you say, “you can do whatever the fuck you want in my dreams but leave me out of it.”

The smirk returns to his face, lips pulling back to reveal teeth. He runs his tongue over them as he sits forward, placing a hand on your knee, fingers wrapping around. You try not to jerk at the sudden touch, the burst of heat. “No can do, sweet thing. You see, if I did something without you around it wouldn’t exactly be your dream, would it? And besides,” he breaks off, grip tightening around your leg as he leans in to press his cheek against yours, teasingly nipping at the skin of your earlobe before he murmurs, “where’s the fun in that?”

Your bed mocks you. This morning, wanting a clean slate, you had washed all the sheets and now it lies before you perfectly neat and pristine, just begging for you to hop in.

But you refuse. You won’t be falling asleep tonight. If Taehyung thinks he’s in control during your dreams, then fine. You just won’t dream.

“I thought you’d be making the most of your newfound ability to sleep,” Yoongi comments curiously, feet kicking at the edge of the mattress. You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the exhaustion that pulled at your eyelids without reinforcements, so you had called in your favorite insomniac to keep you company.

Swaying aimlessly back and forth on your desk chair, you shrug. “I haven’t hung out with you in ages, I felt like a good, old-fashioned sleepover.”

He narrows his eyes at you, though it’s not particularly intimidating. “I’ve never once slept over at your house, idiot. What’s the real reason?”

You avoid his gaze, studiously focusing on picking a movie on Netflix. “Fine, then. I wanted the goss on that fair boy. You got his number, right? But you never told me how it went.”

Mission successful. Yoongi lights up, suspicion forgotten. “Hoseok! His name is Hoseok, and he’s amazing. We actually… went out for coffee the other day.”

Your eyebrows lift, shutting down your laptop lid to fully give your attention to the boy across from you. “Like a date?” Yoongi grins and nods enthusiastically. “You casanova, you! What’s he like?”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker strangely in the dim evening glow that peeks through your curtains. “He’s great,” he gushes, “friendly, and bubbly, and has the most beautiful smile. But… actually, I guess you could say there’s something I need to tell you.”

You frown. “What? What’s up?”

He pouts, kicking his heels more insistently against the edge of the mattress. “The date was really nice, and Hoseok is really nice, but I couldn’t stop thinking that… that maybe I just liked him because he was like you.”

Your face freezes in an expression of pure confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Yoongi ducks his head. “I’ve been trying to deny it for years. I figured you saw me as a friend and nothing else, and I thought if maybe I focused more on guys instead of girls I could separate myself enough from the image of you, but clearly that isn’t going so well for me.” He laughs, bitterly, and you’re overcome with the urge to rush forward and hug him. Nevertheless, you stay rooted in your spot.

“Yoongi, what are you saying?”

He shrugs, body hunching over like it always does when he’s shy. “Hoseok is nice, but he’s not you. And I think it’s time that stop lying to myself.” He looks up, then, eyes soft. “I think I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

Your lips are parted, jaw slightly slack in shock. “...okay,” you state eventually. Well, this is one way to stay awake. “So, uh, I don’t- What do we do now?”

Scratching behind his ear nervously, Yoongi bites his lip. “Maybe I… Can I kiss you?” When you don’t respond, he shuffles forward a little on the bed so that his feet rest on the ground. “Just once, to see if you feel anything. And if you don’t, we never have to bring it up again.”

You sigh out a rushing breath. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” Fighting the erratic pounding of your heart, you stand up on shaky legs and sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder and nose to nose.

Now that you’re right in front of him, something foreign rises up in your chest. It feels like he’s the only person in the world, like you can’t look away from the tender look in his eyes. You can practically feel the warmth of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt. He leans forward, and you reflexively suck in a shallow breath, eyelids fluttering shut.

His lips are featherlight when they first brush against yours. You feel a palm come up to cup your cheek, and his fingers tentatively fiddle with your hair. Like you’re magnetised, you lean in, and that small sign of reciprocation is enough for him.

Yoongi deepens the kiss, mouth slanting to get a better angle as he urgently moves his lips against you, tongue dipping out to swipe at the seam of your lips, encouraging you to open up to him. You gasp when his teeth nip gently, tugging the sensitive skin before letting it go with a kitten lick to soothe the bite marks. You’ve never felt this alive before, and it’s a wonder to you that until now you had never looked at Yoongi this way. Now it almost feels like he’s pure, euphoric oxygen and you’ll die if you break away for a second.

His hand has dipped into your hair, gently pressing the back of your head to hold you against him, and his other arm insistently grips your hip, encouraging you to get even closer. A searing bolt of need rips through you, and you swing a leg up, straddling him. He’s hard beneath you, and the feeling of him makes you groan, gingerly grinding your hips.

His tongue is in your mouth now, flicking against yours and sucking it back into his mouth like he wants to envelop you in his embrace. His fingers tighten in your hair, gripping a handful. You whimper, hips still working against him.

“Yoongi,” you make out in a hushed tone, “that hurts.” You sigh in relief when the sharp tugging on your scalp relaxes, his palm soothing the sting. Relaxing against him, you moan into his mouth when you feel him slip his hand under your shirt and palm at your breast, seeking out an already-stiff nipple, no bra to obstruct him. He rubs it, rolling the peak between two fingers, and you feel wet heat gathering between your legs.

Out of nowhere, he roughly pinches and twists your nipple and your legs jerk in response to the pain, your instincts wanting you to back away from the harsh sensation, but before you can sit up off him he’s yanking on your hair again, twisting your neck back enough that you can feel the muscles twinge and your scalp burn. Your eyes fly open in shock, only for you to freeze.

Taehyung sits beneath you, dressed in the same shirt and basketball shorts that Yoongi was in, though his much broader chest makes the baggy fabric look fitted. He stares up at you with spit-slicked lips and blown pupils, almost completely enveloping the gold of his irises. With a shit-eating grin, he releases your nipple and pats it, chuckling under his breath when you twitch.

“Wha- What did you do with Yoongi?” you demand, as forcefully as you can while your legs are still around him.

He drops his gaze, sliding his hand over to your other breast, the fabric moving over his hand your only warning before he begins to flick your other nipple, every few seconds as you jump and try and twist away. Though he only has one hand in your hair, you feel completely anchored in place, like your arms and legs are too heavy to move even if you tried. “Yoongi is at home, my little human. Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

“You pretended to be him,” you guess, “he probably never came over, then.” He quirks his eyebrows once in affirmation, still teasing roughly at your chest, dragging a fingernail over and over the abused nerves of your nipple, the other one still aching. “But you said you couldn’t feel anything in my world. So what, you’re just doing this to fuck with me?”

A bewildered grin lights up his face. “My god, you’re dense,” he remarks in wonder. “Let me spell it out for you. Yoongi never came over because you never texted him earlier tonight. And you never texted him because you’ve been asleep since you got up onto your bed to put on the washed pillowcases. This is a dream, sweet thing. You’re in my world.”

“But-” You splutter for a few moments, glancing around at your room. Everything seems in perfect order. “This isn’t like the other ones, I… The dreams you create are always messy at the edges like an unfinished painting, but I can see everything fine now. This exactly what my room is like.”

“Convenient, then,” Taehyung teases, “that I can make dreams as realistic or rudimentary as I want.” The levity vanishes from his face, leaving behind a dark grin. “You’re out of your depth, Y/n. Stop assuming things just because you don’t know any better.”

His grip on your hair loosens as you do, realising shaking out of his hold is futile in a plane he completely controls. “Then how am I supposed to tell if something’s a dream or not?”

He leaves your nipple alone, hand dipping to fiddle with a pant hem of your pyjama shorts, calloused fingertips running lightly along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His smile is brilliant, wider than you’d ever seen on him before. “That’s the beauty of it, little human. You can’t.”

You shiver as his hand disappears below the fabric of your shorts, rising up to brush against the front of your panties, thumbing at your clit through the cotton. You feel the tension leave your body, and though a part of you is terrified by this knowledge, a different side takes over. The side that’s indulging in the warm pleasure unfurling in your stomach as his uncharacteristically gentle touch stimulates you. The side that says, you already know you’re dreaming now. Fuck it.

Taehyung watches in bemusement as you relax above him giving in. Only once you sigh out in pleasure, hand resting on his shoulder for stability, does he remove his thumb from you just enough to grip onto the elastic waistband. He tugs, and you feel the strangest sensation of the fabric dissolving, being pulled off you from the side even though you never hear or feel a tear. By the time his hand emerges from your pant leg, the fabric is whole again, and he bunches it up in his hand, chucking it away from you. With your panties gone, the sewn hem in the crotch of your pyjama shorts drags against your clit, and you heave a shuddering breath, rocking your hips to chase the friction.

“Do you want a hint?”

You blink, staring down at Taehyung in confusion. The golden silk of his hair hangs low over his forehead, but you can’t mistake the glitter of his piercing gaze on you. “What?”

His hand leaves your hair, sliding down your back until it rests on your ass, gripping the flesh and pushing you down onto his crotch. “A hint,” he repeats, “for knowing if this is a dream.”

You stare down at him, eyes lidded. “What?” As you speak, you feel something begin to move beneath you. You frown, looking down, and suck in a horrified breath when you lean back and see his crotch. The tented erection from before is...shifting beneath the fabric of his shorts, creating a rippling effect. You watch it entranced, as one bump slides upwards towards the waistband, prodding at it, before it manages to slip underneath, peeking out to show something that glitters in the dim lighting…

“The real world doesn’t have this,” he reveals, leaning back slightly as a rounded, blunt end of a golden appendage draws out of his shorts, rising in the air between the two of you. It’s smooth, fleshy yet entirely inhuman. He grips your ass tighter and pulls you forward, the tentacle feeling surprisingly cool as it lays down, curling around your thigh. It clashes with the heat from his hands on you, and you feel yourself sighing out, basking in the contrasting sensations.

“Is that...your real form?” you ask tentatively, curiously reaching down to touch it. It’s firm yet moving, much like muscle, and when you run a finger down the tapering length of it, it flicks in the air, seeking more of your touch.

“I suppose,” Taehyung allows, “though when I can become anything I like, a real form doesn’t matter much.” He stares intensely at the tip of the appendage as it winds around, sliding underneath the fabric of your shorts just as his hand did earlier, though this time with your panties gone there’s nothing between him and your core, and you let out a surprised moan when you feel it begin to massage your clit, pressing its way lower to try and get between you and his crotch, seeking your entrance. Your mouth falls open, too shocked to react to anything except the pleasure, and the sandman hums in response. “You see? These things don’t exist in your world. Your world is dull, basic, human. In here, anything is possible. This doesn’t have to be a fight, Y/n. Give in to me.”

You sigh out, your stomach thick with pleasure, and you nod slowly, lifting your hips to leave some room for the golden tentacle, which doesn’t hesitate before pressing deep inside you, more and more of the tentacle slipping out of his trousers and up into your cunt until you feel a pressure deep inside, the tip poking at your cervix.

Your legs are jelly and your fingers are iron tight on his shoulders as you moan, the sound broken up by choked gasps. “So...deep,” you pant out, mind unable to string together anything more than that, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, as his brows are knitted together in pleasure too, huffing out groaned breaths in a beautiful baritone.

“God, it’s been so fucking long, you have no idea,” he curses deep in his throat. He closes his eyes in concentration, and you feel the thick muscle shift inside you, recending from your wet heat like waves in low tide, before slamming back up into you, striking your g-spot with a change in angle. You keen, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, wishing you were out of the restricting fabric of your shirt and shorts already, wishing you could run your hands over his bare chest and shoulders, hot like a furnace even as his golden member cools you from the inside.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced. The cock inside you moves and writhes like it has a mind of its own, but it’s addictive; almost like the deft flicks of a tongue, the tentacle navigates you from the inside out, stimulating parts of you you didn’t even know could feel pleasure. You find yourself mindlessly grinding into it. Since it gets thicker the closer to the base it gets - though you still haven’t seen where that might be with how long it is - you rock yourself against it, your clit receiving delicious stimulation that has you almost drooling.

Taehyung’s tanned skin is glistening with perspiration and the glow of his irises is so dark it’s almost amber below his lids. With his hands gripping your ass and hips tightly, he lifts you up onto your knees again so that he can begin to rut his hips up into you, the tentacle splitting you open with every thrust. You tremble and buckle but you’re somehow kept aloft, top half leaning heavily on his chest as the stretch and the deep warmth of pleasure bring you closer to the edge.

On this angle, your clit no longer grinds against the gleaming gold of his slick-covered cock, but Taehyung’s thumb blissfully finds it and you cry out in relief as he quickly rubs it, speeding up your high. “‘m close,” you moan out deliriously, feeling desperation at your impending orgasm shorten your breath.

“Thank god,” the sandman breathes, his face increasing as he grunts with exertion, “I need to fill this perfect pussy of yours up already.”

Your mouth drops open as the constant stimulation paired with his words pitch you over the edge. Your orgasm takes you by storm, seizing up and shuddering violently on top of him. When you clench around him, Taehyung swears throatily and lowers you down again, both hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds deeply into your core, reaching his own end.

You’re slowly on the come-down of your powerful orgasm as he begins to spill into you, and you hiss at the sudden warmth filling you up. Streaks and streaks are milked from him, and when you finally get the energy to sit up a little and look down, your eyes widen.

Your stomach is a little rounder than normal, a bulge just below your belly button that you can see as your shirt’s ridden up. And below that, your pyjama shorts, absolutely soaked with cum. Your hands grip his shoulders as you feel him continuing to move inside you as the fabric turns dark with moisture, until you see it flood past, wetting your thighs with deep bronzed gold, rich and gleaming. When he finally twitches and goes still, the thick substance has begun to slide down your knees and stain the bed, an exorbitant amount of it that spills more and more every time you shift.

In wonder, you lower a hand and tentatively swipe your fingers through it, marveling at the way it reflects the light and glosses thickly, dripping down to your wrist. Unable to resist the curiosity, you wrap your lips around the tip of your pointer finger and suck, letting the taste of him fill your mouth. Immediately, you hum as the rich taste of dark chocolate fills your mouth, at odds wth the metallic colour. You raise your gaze to Taehyung, who’s propped back on his elbows, staring up at you with his cock still buried deeply inside. His eyes are dark, pupils blown even wider than before as you systematically lick off each finger, being sure to flick your tongue between them before catching the drip that runs halfway down your forearm, indulging in the deep flavor.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Taehyung swears, groaning when you lean forward to press your mouth to his, sharing his taste between your lips.

You let your tongues lazily dance around each other for a few languid moments before he curses and breaks off.

“I can’t hold it,” he admits, and you look around to see the walls and furniture in your room crystallising and morphing together, losing detail until the colour begins to melt away, the black void slowly creeping inwards. “I don’t want this to end already, fuck.”

You place one last kiss upon his swollen lips. “Don’t worry,” you remark with a playful grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

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