#more like smut-ish if you squint lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tremendum · 2 years ago

Text

fever

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.5k summary: but at the timbre of your voice, a cold shiver runs down his spine. his eyes widen in acceptance. there must have been some sort of- poison, or aphrodisiac in that damn plant that you'd both been struck with. warnings: SMUT. dubcon (sex pollen), age gap (not specified), use of the word ‘girl’, friends(ish) to lovers, canon-typical mentions of violence, needles/getting pricked by a plant, descriptions of canon-typical injuries, unprotected PiV sex, kinda rough, creampie, light cumplay, oral (f and m recieving), a fair amount of begging, dacryphilia, size kink, overstimulation, voyeur Joel if you squint just for a sec, facefucking, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, some spanking, choking, reader gets slapped on the cheek like once, dom!joel miller, spit kink, fingering, dirty talk/slight degradation if you squint, light praise, this is just basically porn with no plot, they’ve got feelings for each other but they’re in denial, ellie is in this in the beginning but doesn’t hear them thank GOD, notes: this is my first work for Joel and though I never finished the first game, the release of the TV series inspired me bc i am a SLU T for pedro lmao. this is terribly unedited because I just forgot i took edibles after i smoked and cranked this out in an hour and a half so sorry if it’s choppy or a bit ooc for joel. ALSO IF IM MISSING WARNINGS PLS MESSAGE ME

★

"whose brilliant idea was this?"

you say it from behind Joel, the echo of your boots splashing through the tunnel as you look around you, your eyes sneaking to observe the width of his shoulders, the stretch of his shirt over the muscles.

Joel can't stop the twist of his lips as he grumbles back at you, "yours." he mutters, rolling his eyes.

his flashlight cuts through the darkness in front of you two, scaling over the walls that grow slimy with repeated dew and rainwater, algae sprawling over the pipes and reaching its fingers down towards your shoes. he doesn't like being down here, it's too quiet, damp, dark. perfect for cordyceps to grow.

you let out a soft, amused hum at his words that coaxes a bubble of irritation through Joel - you'd always been stubborn, from the day he'd first laid eyes on you; a young thing at the time, baring teeth you thought were sharp but really just looked like a little doe snapping its jaw at him.

it's been long enough with you around now that Joel knows you better than he's willing to admit, and maybe also knows himself than he would ever say out loud - because you're still that stubborn fireball of a woman and he's still the tired old man who you find amusing to tease. and he likes it, deep deep down.

"yeah, maybe just letting it go was the better option." you muse from behind him, voice still somehow dripping like honey though the sloshing of the sewer provided nothing but unpleasantries for the group of you. he turns to spare a glare at you; you were already smirking at him. setting him up, then lying in wait.

a damn minx.

he sighs, looking away: sure, he wants you, of course he does - you were spry, beautiful, intelligent, and resourceful. but you were stubborn, and butted heads with him more than rams did in mating season. still, there'd been too many lingering glances, suggestive phrases, and gentle caresses for it to be a coincidence. he could tell that when you watched him split wood or help teach you to shoot a gun that you were probably soaked through your panties, and that made him hard as a rock when he allowed himself to think about it once in a blue moon.

but that doesn't matter, because in a world that wasn't like this one - without the danger, pain, the necessities to survive - a girl like you would never bat a fucking eye at a man like him.

and he's got more important things to think about than how tight you'd feel around his cock, how well you'd take his orders with his hand around your throat.

but your words not only fall to his ears - from where Ellie hangs upside down from the storm drain, she snorts, "you spent that whole time back there arguing with him just to decide he was right?" she boasts. at this, you grab her arm, pretending to pull her down from above your head and into the storm drain with you and Joel. a splashing noise and a squeal echoes through the tunnel as your boots slosh; Joel turns back with irritation, about to snap at the two to keep quiet.

but you're grinning, eyes reaching his from where you stand, covered in storm drain water. Ellie's flipped upside-down, hanging from the ceiling with a grin of amusement, her arm slack in your grip.

your shirt is wet, slick against your plush skin around your stomach and breasts, your hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead and neck. slowly, you bend down to pick the axe out of the murky water, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you shake the water from its hilt. he has to tear his eyes away from the flash of the lacy underwear that peeks from the waistline of your jeans.

Joel's breathing is almost stutters - you’re a goddamn sight right now, and if the tightening in Joel's jeans meant anything, it's that he needed to look away.

"it doesn't matter. you got your axe, now we need to get out of here." he mutters, tired of letting you convince him to do asinine decisions like try and crawl into a storm drain to fetch the axe you'd accidentally dropped. your lips pull into a tight line and he ignores the twist of fire in his stomach at your gaze, the smirk as you try to conceal your laughter. it just irritates him even more.

he watches with sharp eyes as Ellie starts to pull you up and out of the drain; he's trained with a flashlight and his rifle pointed towards the depths beyond you, into the unknown area of the drain. your head is almost out of his sight when it happens: you twitch suddenly and let out a yelp, "fuck!" you hiss. Joel's rushing towards you, calling your name.

you groan, pulling yourself up with the aid of Ellie as you mutter, "'m fine Joel, something stung me."

stung you? he looks around, flashlight searching the area for any animal or insect or other threat - nothing. but when you're clear of the drain, obscured by the dilapidated road above his head, Joel hears Ellie let out an interested but disgusted noise. his gun goes first, then the flashlight. he pulls himself up and as he nearly breaches the light of the Earth, a sharp sting attaches to his thigh, coaxing a grunt of shock from his lips as he pulls himself fully out.

you're laying, soaked on the hot pavement, Ellie staring at you with wide eyes as you inspect your calf. there's a barb on it with spikes that look almost like a cactus of sorts, bright purple and speckled with yellow. Joel doesn't have to look down to see his own thigh impaled with the spokes of the same plant. he tilts his head back, hand scrubbing his face with a deep sigh. damn it.

"what is that?" Ellie asks, eyes wide as Joel quickly pulls out the plant from his flesh with the flannel he'd tied around his pack. "don't!" he chastises as your bare hands move towards the spoked on your calf, and your eyes soon shoot up to him. "did y'touch a plant down there? or anything?" he asks, trying to ensure this wasn't anything toxic or lethal, or god forbid, a mutation of the cordyceps.

but if it had been, there'd have been signs of it. pulsing, infecteds even - but this was a plant Joel has never seen before.

"obviously" you grunt, shooting him a glare, "I wouldn't fucking touch something growing if I didn't know it was safe." you snark. he knows you hate it when he treats you like a child - you've said as much to him before, and loudly - but he can't help the protectiveness he feels for you. your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, "but it shot out barbs towards me. I wasn't even close to it, you saw me." you defend.

Joel's throat clenches, his chest swimming with a warm feeling as the tingling sensation on his thigh lingers far after he'd pulled the barb from his jeans. he needed to get that thing out of you, too. you watch him as he pulls it out of your leg swiftly, Ellie sitting back on her haunches as she watches.

"we should clean these out." Joel decides, standing up and grabbing his gun and discarded flashlight, sending a glare down to the axe that sits glinting in the sun. just what he needs, another thorn in his side. literally.

the walk back to the house was much less exciting for you as it had been before the little romp with Joel in the sewer. the sun is hot beating down on your backs, and your dampness just exacerbates the mustiness of the storm drain's water soaking into your skin.

your calf is starting to vibrate, almost - although your heart twists with worry, you eye Joel's back and he seems fairly normal. so, you keep going, ignoring the heat that starts to consume you. your head aches by the time you round your last corner to get back.

Ellie's in her own world, kicking a rock as the house nears your sights: you'd landed here early this morning, some people who knew Joel before had lived here: they were gone now.

but it had beds, water that could be heated, and a collection of weapons and supplies stocked higher than your head.

so as you settle your things into the living room, you smile, digging into your pack to fish out the scraps of soap you'd saved, enough for several washes each of you were liberal with it. "so, who gets it first?" you say with a grin, unable to contain the excitement in your voice at the prospect of getting clean. Ellie jumps up, grinning with glee.

"dibs on going last!" she whistles, pulling a dry stare from both Joel and you. she shrugs, "what, don't want to be yelled at for takin' my time." she grumbles, flopping down on the couch, sofa releasing a plume of dust.

you lift a brow, "there's a second tub down here, isn't there?" you ask. Joel nods, eyes flickering to Ellie, "then you can take the tub down here. but only use a bit of hot water." he chides.

she rolls her eyes as he points a stern finger her way, swiping a piece of the soap you'd held out to her as she hauls her bag behind her, "relax, old man." she mutters, shaking her head as she disappears, "I'll let it run cold before I get out."

your eyes fall on to Joel, who sighs, nodding to the upstairs bathroom. "you go." he says dismissively. you chew on your lip, trying to figure a way out of taking the first bath: you needed to inspect this sting first. "no, i can wait. 's fine." you shrug, the feverish heat on your body not helping yourself to focus.

his hands run to the back of his neck, massaging a spot; your eyes are glued to the muscles that ripple from the movement, the long fingers thick and rough from a lifetime of hard work. you shudder, arousal pooling at the apex of your thighs easily. you swallow, embarrassed - why were you having such an odd reaction to this plant? it was making you feel fuzzy, feverish; the only thing you can focus on is Joel.

he shakes his head, "nonsense. ladies first." he insists, not meeting your eyes. you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, his abnormal attempt at chivalry - you laugh a bit. he glares at you, but there's no heat.

"since when have you been one for chivalry, Joel?" you ask, shaking your head with a smirk. it's sweet, because despite the horror of reality, there were still times when that charming Southern Man that Joel probably once was peeks through the cold, hard exterior.

rare but not unheard of were the times he'd hold a door open, or say ma'am - but it seems that all that remains of his past is that damn smooth accent and the broken watch he keeps on his wrist at all times.

he rolls his eyes but says nothing. his face looks red, and you almost bring up the pulsing at the site of that plant's needle; instead, you bite your tongue. you need a moment to analyze it, alone - and to get your thoughts straight, to - to not think about him.

"you can take first, Joel. I prefer my baths lukewarm, anyways." you joke, a fleeting touch on his arm.

your hand burns when you pull away and his eyes catch yours as if he felt it too. he must decide to not protest anymore as he nearly stumbles his way upstairs, disappearing into the master bathroom, his hands shaky as they take your soap from your grasp on the way.

Joel knew something was wrong immediately. the more he'd stood there, debating with you about who gets to fucking clean themselves first, the more he saw you, in a tub, fingers caressing yourself; the more real it felt, to see you touch your hardened buds, play with your tits, to hear you moan his name gently.

but his body was hot. he felt a fever like nothing he'd ever felt before, his mind going fuzzy as he'd stumbled into the bathroom, scrubbing his whole body from head to toe vigorously, as though whatever was happening would fade away if he'd just get clean.

the bath couldn't have been longer than seven minutes.

by the end of it, he was grunting into his shoulder to muffle the noise, his fist squeeing his cock tight as he fucks himself into it, the hot spurs of wanton need curling around his body, choking him. that god damned soap. it smelled like you.

he'd thrown it across the room, its pieces splintered across the ground as Joel bites back a groan of your name, the images of you, soft hands pumping him, slick mouth opening to take him inside- he cums over his chest in hot spurts, the guilt red and hot across his cheeks as the feeling snaps from his chest.

but the fever is still there when he blinks away the pleasured cloud of his orgasm.

and it's still there, burning hot like a snake of revenge in his body when he slams the door open, body still damp and quick to react to the fresh air of the upstairs bedroom.

he doesn't go back downstairs, not like this. not when the girl is down there, probably still in her own bath; he's still not sure what he's come down with, or if it could spread.

now, it’s your turn in the bathroom in the master bedroom - he'd beelined it for the office upstairs before calling for you and telling you it was your turn; he knew that something in him would snap if he were to see you while he was in this state.

but he should've gone back downstairs, because the moment he hears it, it's too late for him.

you're moaning.

it's almost clear as day; muffled through doors as you'd shut yourself from the rest of the house in the master bedroom, and Joel can't fucking unhear it.

he became painfully hard again mere minutes after his first orgasm and has been restraining himself for what can only have been the ten minutes you'd been bathing, but at the timbre of your voice, a cold shiver runs down his spine.

his eyes widen in acceptance. there must have been some sort of- poison, or aphrodisiac in that damn plant that you'd both been struck with.

"fuck." he groans, surprised as it comes out much more breathy than intended, his whole body shuddering as his brain gets even more swarmed with thoughts - you, spread for him, or on your knees, or laying on the table, his cock shoved down your throat-

he hits the wall, hard. his fist stings but it's nothing in comparison to the burning need he feels swirling in his gut and his legs carry him until he's knocking on the door to the master bedroom frantically.

he calls your name, and a weak gasp is the only response. he tries again, and then your muffled voice calls, "fuck, Joel, that plant-" you cut yourself off with what Joel can only imagine is a moan of pain and pleasure. his cock twitches and he thinks he may pass out. staggering over to the bannister, Joel calls out for Ellie. she stomps over to peak her head up towards him expectantly.

he's shaking, sweat already sheening over his whole body. he's sure he looks like hell as he grips the landing under white knuckles, "Ellie, we're sick." he groans, "stay downstairs."

she calls back up, joking that she’s going to leave the house; but she doesn't sound sincere. he barely registers her laughter before she shuts the door, closing herself off to explore the downstairs house without Joel or you to protect her. he's momentarily glad she's not suspicious, instead is relieved to have her own time to herself.

but his cock is so hard he thinks he may pass out again, and he can hear you gasping out his name from behind the door to the bedroom and bathroom.

the door to the bedroom shuts and echoes through the empty upstairs as he tears through, chest heaving. you're still in the bathroom, gasping as your moans echo through the chamber.

he calls your name as he slumps against the door frame to the bathroom, the desire coursing through his body as he shakes with the feverous affects from the plant's venom.

he can't think straight, "I can't come in." he says, shaking his head as his forehead rests against the cool wood. you wail from inside, "Joel, please, I need- I need you, please I need help." you whimper. he can practically see you, the pleading look on your face pathetic as your brows tangle together, eyes shut in frustration. he knows you're touching yourself, and it makes his cock twitch.

"I can't." he says sternly, knowing that if he is to come through that door, there may be no stopping himself. he can't let that happen, not like this. "I'll- I'll be good, just- I can't, nothing's working." you whimper.

"not like this, darlin'." he's grunting through his teeth, but he feels so much desire that it's painful, like he'll die. anger courses through his chest as you let out a drawn out moan, low and full of need even through the wall that separates you.

"fuck you." you groan, "I hate you, Joel, never let me fuckin' have anything," your voice is strangled, a shuddering moan leaving your lips that sends jolts of electricity throughout his entire being. his hand finds his aching cock, slowly trying to relieve the painful desire that shoots through him with need.

he glares through the wall, "yeah, well, fuck you too." he spits back, anger coursing through him at your bratty exclaim of irritation for him - the one who kept you safe, who let you do what you wanted - who followed you into goddamn sewer drains to find the shit that you’d lost.

"walking around, flaunting that fuckin' ass at me." his words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, the desire and haze pulling it out of him as he twists his wrist around himself. "do you know what you do to me?" he nearly growls, "every time you open that mouth it's some shit. always gotta have somethin' to say to me, huh? make me wanna shut you up."

your moan is nearly a sob this time; it's raw, full of desire, and Joel could just about cum from that noise alone. his neck heats up with the knowledge that his words pushed you even further; he always knew you'd be a dirty little thing.

but he nearly falls over as the door to the bathroom rips open, catching himself with one arm on the doorframe, his cock still in his fist. his eyes find you on the ground, fully naked, on your goddamn hands and knees for him.

his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when you gasp, "Joel, we need to-" you swallow as though you were salivating at the sight of him above you, cock angry and flushed, "you have to fuck me, now."

he stares down at you, his whole entire body tremoring at the sight of you; your bare chest, nipples peaked at you suck in breaths, face flushed with desire and sweat, your own legs shaking terribly. your hands are glistening with your own juices. he lets out a moan.

"please," you try to get his attention again, squirming as though you're in just as much pain as he is, "please, just use me, I don't care, I want to taste you."

he shakes his head, "we-we aren't thinking straight... can't do this." he gasps, even his own words starting to sound absurd to himself. you shake your head actual tears welling up in your eyes, "I think about this all the time, Joel-" you moan, your hand slipping between your legs, the wet sounds sending streaks of desire through his body. “it’s not just the fucking plant, Joel, I need you.” you hum. his wrist hasn't stopped moving, he realizes, chasing that sweet fucking high as you stare at his cock with a wide, hungry glance, begging him to fuck you. he wonders if he’s just dreaming again.

"you know that I want this." you gasp out, tears nearly slipping from your lashline, "don't you?"

does he? how could you dare to ask that?

he groans, nodding, "shit, baby, shut the fuck up."

"you're a fucking asshole, Joel." you whine, "it hurts." you mutter, biting your lip with a ghost of a smile. that makes him snap. it hurts, and you're fucking enjoying it?

he grabs you roughly. the minute his skin touches yours it burns deliciously; he can't believe he had the control to not touch you this whole time. his moan is tandem with yours as his fingers thread through your hair, intending on lifting you to take you to the bed; your hands grip his thighs, though, and soon your hot, wet mouth finds the angry head of his cock.

you take him about halfway before you gag slightly and he slams his hand hard on the wall just above you; your eyes are fluttered shut, a tear squeezing out as your throat opens for him. he groans at the pleasure that courses through him, reaches his fingers, the nape of his neck. you're pulling on him desperately, and it makes him smirk down at you.

"what, you wan' me to fuck that pretty little mouth?" he mutters, heart thundering in his chest as his fingers shake with desire. you pull off him, gasping slightly for breath, your finger still touching yourself as you nod, a string of spit still connecting him to your lips, "yes." you say with a nod, falling back against the wall as he crowds over you.

he's not patient, not right now. he knows he could fuck your mouth until he was shooting his seed down your throat and you'd sit through it all with that pretty hair and grin and hell, you’d probably even thank him afterwards; but he doesn't have the time for that. he needs to be deep inside you, needs to be drowning in your cunt, needs to fuck you down into the mattress so hard you scream.

and you're desperate, clearly: you're two fingers deep, fucking yourself on your fingers as another tear trails down your cheek, breathless as you shift in near pain from need. he resists the urge to coo down at you, his thumb still swiping the tear from your cheek before he grabs you again, this time pulling you up and tugging you onto the bed.

you let out a moan of his name, your face flush with arousal as you spread your thighs open for him, watching with a pained expression as he pulls off his shirt and jeans, discarding his boxers as he goes. your eyes rake over him and you whimper, still not touching him until he gives you permission.

it makes him smirk, "for such a brat it's a wonder you're so obedient like this." he mutters, pulling your legs further open as he quickly stands with his legs against the edge of the bed, running his cock against your soaked, velvety cunt.

you whimper, jolting in pleasure as his head catches your sensitive, neglected nub and he smears his precum there, enthralled in the shapes your nails carve into his biceps as you gasp.

he can't pull his eyes away from your glistening center - how many times had you cum before he'd heard you? he swallows, the flames licking his belly as he pushes his head against your tight hole.

he grunts, you were so goddamn tight; your eyes widen as you try to move your hips, try to slide yourself onto his cock, but he stops you with a rough hand around your shoulder, pinning you down. "stop." he orders, leaning so he can spit down, the slick trailing down to settle right onto where his cock nestles against your entrance. you let out a strangled gasp at his actions, throat dry from your noises.

he doesn't give you time to beg, though, as he's slowly easing himself into you; you let out a yelp at the feeling, loud enough that Joel's hand clamps over your lips roughly, his breath hitting your face, "shut your damn mouth, girl."

you feel like you're splitting open as he inches in and it's barely just his head but you have never felt such excruciating bliss as now, your breath falling from your nostrils harshly as he eases himself into you.

you wonder how much he is restraining against just fucking hard into you - but you're tight after the orgasms you'd given yourself in the bath trying to satiate the feelings you'd figured out were from that fucking plant venom.

you don't even know if he'll fit all the way into you as he inches slowly in, taking a few grunting breaths before fully sheathing himself inside your hot pussy. you clamp around him, feeling full as he bites his lip, chest heaving, slick with sweat. his hand, still clamped over your mouth, tightens against you as he slowly starts to thrust; he reaches a part so deep in you that you nearly scream.

he's hitting your spot nearly immediately as he starts to quicken his pace, hips hitting against yours deeply. you moan his name, "Joel, fuck, 's so fucking deep." you gasp it, unable to think of anything but chasing the high that's been building since the second the plant's venom entered your system.

he doesn't seem to like when you start to move your hips, chasing his when he pulls away; his hand comes to your cheek in a quick smack, grabbing your attention immediately. you can't prevent the moan at the sensation, nor the way you clench tight around his cock.

the moan he lets out is half-way between your name and fuck, as he slides into you deeper, hand wrapped around your cheeks, training your eyes on his. there's a glint of something animal in his eyes: you're sure he sees the same thing in you, the venom of that plant coursing through the two of you, nearly palpable in the air of skin slapping skin.

your cunt flutters at the eye contact, the desire bringing you closer to the edge; his hands shoot to your shins, pulling them up to his chest and then he leans forward with a deep thrust, coaxing tears of pleasure from your eyes. "that's it, take it." he grunts into your hear, hips punctuating each thrust as his tip nudges that spongy spot inside you that curls your toes.

then one hand catches yours as you fist the sheets; he pulls your arm roughly down towards where he enters you as he bites the lobe of your ear. "you're going to cum." he tells you breathlessly, directing your hand towards your clit, pressing the pads of your fingers against it. you yelp in pleasure, more tears squeezing from ecstasy as you nod against his forehead, "yes, fuck, I'm gonna-gonna cum."

"that's right." he's deeper, "cum for me." he nearly whispers it, almost desperate. it's just what you need to push you over the edge: his hips angling in a way that has hot, searing pleasure coursing through you. you nearly go blind when you cum with a gasp of his name. his hips don't even stutter as he fucks you through your orgasm, the relief washing over you in waves of pleasure. you can't open your eyes, your chest heaving, arms locked on his biceps, hips quivering with the intensity of the feeling.

he keeps the roll of his hips as he slides easily through your ruined pussy, his brows pinched in pleasure.

"y'feel so good," you nearly go limp, your fourth orgasm drawn out by the touch of the man you couldn't ever stop thinking about. he's so deep inside you, you're surprised you can't feel him in your throat as he thrusts. "pretty girl," he mutters, pinching one of your nipples and sending shockwaves through you; the relief you'd felt from your orgasm, just like the previous ones, is soon washed away by the newly replaced desire, back again and somehow even more hungry.

you nearly cry at the thought, but something in you still yearns for it and you allow your ankles to cross around his hips. "never wanna leave this cunt." he mutters against your collarbone. you flutter again at his words, arousal slicking you, him, the sheets below you; the squelch of your juices fill the room as he chases his own high.

a particularly loud cry of pleasure lands you with his hand yet again over your mouth, but this time, you waste no time in pulling his fingers to your lips, sucking two of them in eagerly as your hand tries to wrap around his thick wrist.

his eyes meet yours and his jaw clenches as his hips stutter, nearing his own high. his fingers work quick; thrusting into your mouth, slick with your spit, gagging you as he bottoms out particularly roughly. your nails scrape down his back and you'd be more shocked if there weren't marks later.

a few more thrusts and you can tell he's close, so you pull his fingers out of your mouth to gasp, "please, cum in me, Joel," you whimper into his neck, biting down hard as he groans your name. his hand suddenly clasps around your throat, pushing you down against the mattress as he fucks into you deep, his eyes screwed shut, "don' say shit like that to me, darlin'."

but his thrusts are getting sloppier as you squeeze around him, luring him in, the intoxicating scent of soap and him and his musk surrounding your head. "please, I'll do anything." you whine, hand crawling up his neck to cradle his jaw. his dark eyes meet yours and he moans at how earnest you look, his hand tightening his grip around your throat and squeezing slightly, your airway constricted for a slight moment, causing you to gasp for air when he leans back.

your desire has you cloudily begging, pulling at his hair, his arms, his back, keeping him in, and finally he growls, "shut up." he snaps, "'m gonna cum in you, and you better be fuckin' good." he barely looks at you as he lightly slaps one of your tits, grabbing the other and pinching your hardened nipple as he watches your whole body bounce from the force of his thrusts. "god, you feel so good." he mutters to himself. you preen at the praise, your own high creeping near.

your lips are clamped shut, his hand holding your head down from your throat as you nearly scream, his thrusts slowing and sloppy. he lets out a delicious moan as he hits his high. "that's right, take me." he mutters, his chest shaking as he cums; he's moaning loud as he thrusts one last time, his seed coating your walls.

"fuck." he eases, his thumb falling to soothe over your hairline gently as he releases into you. "so good for me, aren't you?"

you swallow, the burning fire of desire still smoldering in your core, your tear trails long since dried, your body exhausted but full of energy. you nod, unable to trust your words.

he pumps into you slowly once more before pulling all the way out, the noise of your slick and his cum slippery as you feel empty without him filling you.

but he's already distracted, his eyes hazy as he watches a bit of his cum spill from your weeping hole, his thumb dropping to slide it back up and into you, pressing against your entrance, your breath catching.

"is it- is it gone for you?" he asks, his voice strained. you don't need to look down to see that the venom hasn't yet run its course through his system yet; his eyes are still alight with the same animalistic desire that you feel pounding in your heart. your feverish sweating, the headache - most of it's gone, replaced with an intense, destructive desire that has you keening into his hand as it cups your used pussy, his eyes teasing.

"no," you moan, "you?"

he's already dropping to his knees as he breathes out, "no."

your eyes widen. in your haze, you're searching for any relief for this growing arousal, the feelings you have for Joel driving you to beg endlessly for him, yet you hadn't expected him to do this. immediately, his hands wrap around your shaking thighs, his breath hitting your bare, throbbing pussy. you can't even think as you card your fingers back through his hair, hips jerking up away from his face as he licks a small stripe over her swollen clit.

you're so worked up that you can't help the tightening coil as he soon dives his tongue into you, cleaning up the mess you'd made between your thighs, swirling around your clit.

you tug hard at his hair's roots, hard enough he's sending a groan into you that reverberates through you, vibrating your chest as you clamp one hand over your lips.

fiery pleasure snakes through your body, your ankles falling over his shoulder onto his back as he eats you out like a staved man. you see his arm moving through your clouded vision and you let out a pathetic whimper as you realize the wet noises aren't just from his mouth on you: he's fucking his fist. his movements make your legs shake hard, eyes rolling back as he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue.

“Joel,” you mutter, his name the only thing that can come out of your mouth as you can’t help but grind down slightly. Joel's hands are hard on your hips; you know tomorrow as you pull on your jeans, you'll have ten fingerprints marked into you.

it sends a delicious swirl of pride through you as he moans into you, "you taste so good, darlin'.” he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to your heat. your eyes roll back again as one of his hands reaches up to grasp your tit, thumb and finger pinching and rolling as he fucks his tongue into you. one of his hands snakes up to your ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making you buck your hips against him.

“Joel, i-” you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp, the overstimulating pressure making it increasingly harder to speak. your toes curl and head tilts back as his teeth graze over your clit, your thighs clenching shut as your orgasm nears violently quick.

"you gonna cum again?" he mutters, barely breaking away from you, his own hand moving fast as he fucks his fist; you yearn to feel him in your mouth, to taste him. “please, please.” you mutter, your hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at your clit and making you cry out. “please, make me cum, Joel.” you plead, tugging his head closer, his hand slapping your ass again.

and then you're clenching your thighs on either side of him and grinding down as you hit your peak, shaking in pleasure. you grind yourself onto his tongue as he drinks you in, cleaning you of every last drop, his thumb soothing over your hip. he rides you through your high, lapping at you and only pulling away when you go lax on the mattress, legs twitching, gasps ragged and scarce.

you'd have probably passed out right then and there if it hadn't been for his own strangled grunt, your eyes snapping back to him, to where his hand wraps around his own dick, slick with your cum and his own spit.

"Joel," you mumble, cheeks feeling hot as your mind starts to lift, desire yet again pooling between your thighs as you slide down, off the bed until your back hits it, hands caressing over his thighs, "let me taste you." you ask, cheek hot as it lays on his thigh, your eyes begging up at him.

he moans deeply as one had slides behind your neck, steadying you as his other grips himself, "stick out your tongue." his pupils are blown so wide you can only see black. you follow his order, sticking out your tongue as you eagerly lean towards his cock, his brows furrowing as he slaps your tongue with himself.

his hands tug you towards him, your lips tugging over him as you take him into your mouth, trying your best to look up at him. you gag around him as he thrusts his hips forward, your hands flying up to grip his thighs. "fuck, look at you," he moans, his grip tight against your head, slowly starting to fuck your throat, your eyes tearing up. "so eager for me, bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, hm?"

your face heats up as you hum, unable to say anything as he slides into you, tip pushing against your throat, your eyes rolling back. "yeah, you would. i know you think about it, darlin'. think about it all the time."

you should be embarrassed to learn that Joel had, under more sober circumstances, noticed how you acted around him. but instead you let the trail of spit slide down your chin and onto your bare breasts, your fingers pushing it over your hardened nipples as he pulls off your mouth.

you gasp for air, looking up at him with wet eyes. "get on the bed." he orders and you scramble with weak legs onto the mattress, staring at him, the familiarly torturous desire in you throbbing. his hands push you around until you're on your elbows and knees, his hand swatting your ass. "gonna cum on that pretty ass." he mutters, hand grabbing a handful of the plush skin as he spreads you open, "okay?"

"yes, yes, please." you mutter, face sweaty and stuck with your wet hair as he leans down, spitting onto your glistening, puffy cunt. you're nearly sobbing into the sheets as he slides into your wet, warm hole, his groans just as wrecked as you.

"jesus christ, girl." he mutters to himself as he starts to thrust into you, the new angle setting your whole body alight with the coiled pleasure. it builds fast until you feel like you're on fire, his hands rough against your hips, swatting your ass every time your hips pulled away from the overstimulation.

"you need to come." his breath is hot as it hits your cheek, his chest pressing to your back. he's deep into you, tip hitting your sweet spot with every rolling thrust of his hips. then slipping one hand onto the back of your neck, the other snaking to toy with your sensitive clit.

your legs nearly give out as your back arches, the orgasm crashing over you before you can even register it.

you can't see, blind with the bliss of pleasure; your thighs shake as he mutters dirty words into your ear, Joel's hips stuttering as you clamp and flutter around him, slickening yourself and his pubic hair, skin wet with your arousal. you're so sensitive you can't do anything but take his cock as he fucks you, deeper and slower as though he's coming down with the mind fog just as you.

when he hits his own mind-numbing orgasm, he's pulling out of you fast and finishing in hot spurts onto your ass, streaking up your lower back and sliding down into your quivering core.

your name is the only thing on his lips as he slowly slumps down onto the mattress next to you.

you both wait; it's silent besides your sniffling from the overstimulation and the soreness of your throat and Joel's labored breaths. you both wait to see if that torturous feeling comes back to your groins, suffocating and clouding your judgement.

but instead, the fog clears, and within five minutes of silence and stoicism, you're sure that whatever the venom was, it'd passed through your system. "Joel?" you whisper it, cracking slightly. you hear his head shift; he'd not looked at you at all. you're not sure you blame him, embarrassment creeping through your face. but not regret. definitely not regret.

he whispers your name back, and there's a vulnerability in it that has your eyes snapping to his, searching for the dilation of his pupils, any sign to show the venom was still in his system. you can't find any. "do you- is it gone? for you?"

he blinks at you once before nodding his head, "yes. n'you?" you nod at him, muttering a small, "yeah."

he knows he should go get a cloth to clean you up. he'd possibly have to help you up, help you dress... his throat dries as his now less foggy brain recovers the memories of moments ago; the size of your pupils blown out with lust. he looks over you; he'd ruined you.

another wave of self-doubt runs through him; you were not like him, you weren't bad like him. you deserve better.

but the way you stare at him now, as though you want nothing more than to do what you'd both just done every day with him...

he opens an arm, accepting you as you slide your limp, exhausted body against his own naked form, his arm squeezing you to his chest as he sighs deeply. you nuzzle your face into his neck, your own heart racing just as fast as his.

he feels like a damn fool - it'd been far too long for him, he's not sure how to approach these feelings he harbors for you, so he'd hidden them down with anger and irritation and eye rolls; but now he's gone and fucked you like you were just some other whore.

his lips press to your forehead. he doesn't think he can say anything, not right now. he still feels like he's got a fever, and by the looks of you, you feel it too.

so he hopes the kiss he tenderly lays on your hairline says what he can't: he's sorry he was rough with you. he hopes you're okay. he hopes you don't regret it. he hopes you know... he hopes you know it wasn't just about that damn plant’s venom.

he pulls away from you after just a moment, rising to tug on his boxers. but as he crosses the threshold into the bathroom to gather a washcloth for you, your soft voice stops him.

"Joel." you mutter, eyes nervous, exhausted. he stops, looking at you.

you're just as nervous as he looks; you're unsure how to interact with him now, the man you trust with your life, the one who acts like he hates you, the one you know probably loves you; and then you'd fucked him like he was just a dick, though you wish you could tell him: he's so much to you.

"that wasn't-" you're unsure how to convey it, "it wasn't just about the-whatever that plant was. I don't regret it. and I hope you don't either." you're glad it sounds as genuine as you feel when you say it. you want him to know he didn't hurt you. and you hope you didn't hurt him.

his face flashes with relief, with adoration. "I don't." he says, turning from you quickly.

and if his lips ghost over your knees and leave goosebumps on their wake, if his hands soothe gently over every budding bruise of his handprint on your hip; you don't mention it now.

if he gently and devotedly wipes you both clean, if your hands fold together as he settles back down against you, if your hearts beat together as you settle into the fever nap that claims you both; you just smile gently at his bashful grin.

and if your lips brush against each other just before the sleep takes you both; well, then you'll talk about it all later.

taglist: (message to be on joel miller taglist/regular tag list.)

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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facefullofsadness · 10 months ago

Note

THAT SAKURA FIC…. was so good omfg.. do you by chance have any sub ish/switch yunjin thoughts bouncing around because i will die on the switch!yunjin hill as a soft!dom/switch reader….

tysm for liking the kkura fic!!! and YES OMG, love to headcanon basically every idol as a switch bc I am one LMAO

content - me rambling ab how obsessed I am w yunjin, ig smut? I mean I'm just sharing my thoughts lol

wc - 685

yunjin is such an auditory person.

I feel like regardless of taking on a dom/sub role, she lovesssss sound. so like I just imagine if she's topping, she'll moan with you as she slides her slick pussy against yours.

she's all, "fuck y/n, your pussy feels so good. can you feel it too? can you feel how fucking wet I am for you? you're driving me insane." GRRR SHE'S SO HOT !!

like even if she's in a dom situation, she'll BEG YOU to let her fuck you. and when you do, she'll be all whiney and desperate in your ear, saying how badly she missed how warm and dripping your hole is around her fingers. giving service top energy I suppose.

"god how I missed this pussy. you just take my fingers so well and feel fucking incredible around me. more baby? do you need more? don't hold back on me now."

IMAGINE IMAGINE she wakes you up at night, deep voice all low and croaky, and she rasps out so sexily in your ear, "babe, please please let me eat you out. you don't even have to stay awake, I just need to taste you." LIKE??!??!

and all of that ^^ already rides the fine line of her being a switch on her (kinda) dom side. just imagine her subby.

bc on the flip side, instead of fucking your pussy with her own, her holding you by your thighs and grinding, you're instead guiding her hips while she's on top of you.

"that's it baby, you can do it. grind against me just like that," you say, kissing her neck as she's clutching onto your shoulders and eyes squinted shut.

"ah y/n! please please, fuck it feels so good, fuck me harder please baby..." yunjin moans out.

you flip her onto her back where ur now on top of her, your guys' legs intertwined, and you hug her leg that's up in the air, fucking your cunt hard against her clit.

she pathetically moans your name and throws her head back, her hands clawing at the sheets and it worries you that she might actually rip them. and she's sooo vocal.

it gets you off to hear how good you fuck her and it only increases the sheer amount of arousal coursing through your body. she loves it just as much. in both dom and sub situations, yunjin gets hornier at your moans, her own moans, the wet squelching of fingers fucking each other's holes, the slurping lewd loudness of giving head, the slippery mess of grinding pussies with one another. she's so obsessed with it (she is a producer and composer after all yk yk).

also in my mind, although I don't think she's sensitive, as opposed to someone like chaewon or winter who in my mind, you trail your fingertips against their abdomen and they shiver. yunjin's not like that, but I do see her feeling ignited when you're direct.

say you come up behind her while she's playing guitar sitting down, wrapping ur arms around her waist and kissing her neck while you moan with every mark. oh, the way she'd throw her head back and give you more space, her breathing immediately getting heavier.

or even imagine sitting on her lap while ur at the lsfm dorm for a movie night (how many fucking "movie night at their dorm" fanfics have you read? add +1 to ur list!), or vice versa, and leaning in to her ear and let out an orgasmic moan. just for fun! just for shits and giggles!

the way her body would tense up and thighs would clench. she'd look at you in the eyes and you would chuckle at how much lust immediately filled her's.

anyway to conclude, both of you being switches would curate a dynamic where you could both play either role you wanted when either of you wanted it. if one day u wanted to bottom, she'd top you. if one day she wanted to bottom, you'd top her. yunjin just loves fucking you and loves being fucked by you.

a/n - I feel like my headcanon that she loves sound during sex was purely self indulgent and not a part of what anon was asking but HEY! this is my blog shhhh, let me have my fun! anon, idek if this is what you wanted, I feel like this isn't even that LMAO, she's barely even a sub in this DDD:

#ffos reqs #le sserafim #yunjin #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin smut #fanfiction #kpop #kpop gg #le sserafim fanfic #jennifer huh #yunjin smut #sakura #chaewon #kazuha #eunchae #yunjin x you #yunjin fanfic

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coconutcordiale · 2 years ago

Text

steady pt three (i keep all my affection in a paper cup)

pt one | pt two | pt three | masterlist | prequel

pairing- rooster x female bartender!reader (no y/n)

synopsis-

You want to tell her you know how she feels, it’s truly unfair for someone to look this good with that mustache. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to his collarbone and you want nothing more than to follow it with your tongue. Alice looks like she agrees with you.

Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.

warnings- 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex oops, light daddy kink/bradley bradshaw is a soft daddy dom that just wants to take care of his girl this is the hill i'll die on, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), lil bit of praise kink (can i write smut without someone -especially rooster- saying good girl, prob not), breeding kink if you squint but like...don't it's like half a line & i'm scared of kids so it's not really breeding kink idk, no kink negotiation here so not a good example of what you should do irl, brief mention of past infidelity (no current cheating)

length- 5.6k ish

an- i can't believe this is over this is literally the most difficult thing i've ever written, also for real publix sandwiches are the goat i wouldn't share mine with bradley. I’m sorry the end was so cheesy I hate myself lol ok ily all bye

this chapter title is also from only for a moment by lola marsh lmao i basically wrote 15k based on one song that's less than 3 minutes long

You slam the door a little harder than necessary when you get to the rental car.

“Did you get the closure you needed?” Bradley asks tentatively, probably wary of the chaos you know is simmering under your skin.

“Closure from another person is a myth,” you answer firmly. “Only you can give yourself closure.”

“So, no, in other words.”

You appreciate that he’s at least trying to keep the amusement out of his voice as you repeat his cheesy quotes back to him, but it's short-lived because everything feels too small, too suffocating in the muggy Austin air.

You almost don't tell Bradley, but a part of you recognizes you need to get the words out. That someone else needs know about you and Jake so it doesn't subsist only in your eyes, so it doesn't blind you as it disrupts your field of vision, bright spots of an incoming migraine.

“He said he’s in love with me.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and you raise an eyebrow.

After a beat he relaxes, tone frustratingly even. “Bold, considering he’s still married, right?”

“Bold,” you scoff. “That’s one way to put it. I didn’t bother to ask. No ring, but we all know how you pilots are about rings.”

“Why?”

You shrug. Because it doesn’t matter.

“I want to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get mad at me,” he continues, gaze fixed on the road.

Even though you know you’re unlikely to get mad at him, you grumble anyways. “No promises.”

“I’m not trying to sound judgmental. You obviously loved him. But can I ask, why you stayed so long? Wasn’t it excruciating?”

Loved. Past tense. You're surprised as you realize how true that feels, that Jake has maybe, finally, become someone you loved and not someone your heart still beats for.

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship before,” you admit, softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “At a certain point, maybe I started to think there was something wrong with me, a reason I wasn’t worth the effort of a real relationship. Like maybe what I had with Jake was better than I would ever get from someone else.”

You hear a pained noise from him, but barrel on, knowing if you don’t get the words out right now, they may live inside you forever.

“It wears on you after awhile. My guy friends are always acting sarcastic about it, wow must be so horrible to be pretty, so shitty that everyone wants to sleep with you. People say it enough, men confirm it with their actions, and eventually, you start to feel like that’s all you’re worth.

You shudder; you’ve never admitted that out loud before.

"I know what it looks like, but it was more than sex. I’d just never felt that way about anyone before.”

Bradley pulls into the parking lot of your hotel, but you’re staring straight ahead, admission having frozen you in place.

“I don’t know how to make you believe you’re worth more than that. Seresin was practically falling apart, and he hasn’t even seen you in almost a year, for fuck’s sake. Those guys that missed out on knowing you, they’re morons.”

He pauses and takes a deep breath, looks over at you and you feel his dark eyes burning into the side of your face.

“Cali, I—if you think he’s being serious, if you want to be with him, I know it’s complicated, but I have your back.”

Any ice that was thawing around you suddenly frosts again.

“You think I should try to work things out,” you say slowly. “With Jake.”

He flinches. “That’s what you’re taking from—fuck, never mind. I didn’t say that. I just want you to know I’m here for you, whatever you decide.”

Your stomach is sinking and you’re not entirely sure why.

“Thank you,” you manage to murmur, squeezing his forearm affectionately before getting out of the car, worried he’ll see the tears forming in your eyes.

It stays sunk as you get back to your hotel room, as you get ready for bed silently, as you bury yourself under the covers and turn your back to him.

He feels miles away in the other bed, somehow farther away than he does with a flight of stairs separating you at home in Florida.

Sure, a mini vacation to a wedding (even if it is to Texas of all places) is a little intense for friends, but that’s yours and Bradley’s thing if you’re being honest. You guys have spent the last six months being a little intense and over-committed. Being the only things to pull each other out of the dark places you longed to hide in.

You agreed to come, as a friend. It’s not like you guys pretended to be dating, it’s not like he didn’t introduce you to everyone as his friend from Florida.

You’re not sure when you started hoping for more, when you started thinking there was something promising constructing itself in the space between your apartments.

Rooster immediately knows it was a mistake to visit you at work. But you’re working the early shift and things have been so off since you guys got back from Texas. It’s like you’ve retreated into your shell, like you’ve put back on every layer he spent months peeling away.

You smile when you see him, but there’s something hollow in it, something not all there.

He’s pretty sure he overstepped asking you about Jake, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up again, how to apologize without making it worse.

He couldn’t help it; he saw how Jake looked at you. Understands how Jake feels, knows all too well the magnetic pull of you, the involuntary twitch of fingers to touch you. But the way you stole glances after you stopped panicking at his presence…well he’s fairly certain you’ve never looked at him the way you tried to hide you were looking at Jake.

He felt all the air empty from the room the moment you two were aware of each other's presence.

Bradley doesn’t know how to compete with a love like that.

Despite all that he can’t stay away from you, can’t spend another night in his apartment wondering what you’re thinking.

Unfortunately, that means he’s in a touristy tiki bar, politely letting a girl chat him up while you busy yourself making sweet cocktails with overcomplicated garnishes just out of his line of sight.

She’s pretty. And nice. She’s drinking a Jungle Bird which he knows you don’t detest making, so he doesn’t feel bad when she orders another to stick around and talk to him. She laughs at his jokes and doesn’t tell him he’s an idiot for not liking The Office. As far as he can tell (given that he met her about five minutes ago) there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.

Except for the fact that she’s not you, of course.

She excuses herself to the bathroom and you make your way over to his side of the bar, wordlessly putting a fresh beer in front of him.

“You should ask her out,” you suggest. “She’s gorgeous.”

Bradley stalls, blinks twice. His tongue is suddenly sticking to the roof of his mouth. “You think so?”

You roll your eyes. Usually, he secretly loves how much you roll your eyes, the fire that’s always lit behind them. Loves the bratty disposition you manage to express with one little look. He’s always liked how expressive your features are, how he can read your mood before you even say a word.

Right now though, it just makes him uneasy.

“Everyone thinks so, look at her.”

“No—that’s not what I—” he stutters. “I meant, you really think I should ask her out?”

“Yeah, she obviously likes you. It’s not like she’s going to say no.”

Bradley hates the way his heart sinks at your suggestion, but nods anyways, choosing not to correct your assumption that he’s stammering with nervousness over this girl he just met. He desperately wants to change the subject, to make sure he’ll be able to see you outside of the shell you put on for work.

“I have your suitcase at home if you want to get it after work. Sorry, I forgot it was still in the Bronco when I left the other morning.”

When he left for work after carrying your sleeping form up to his apartment, not wanting to risk waking you by searching for the keys to your place, because you looked too peaceful for him to wake up after the flight back.

He forced himself to sleep on the couch, despite how pretty you looked in his bed, how badly he wanted to crawl in with you, tell his students he got stuck in Texas, and keep you in bed with him forever.

He walks home when you tell him you'll come by after Beth takes over, after Jungle Bird slides him her number on a napkin, hoping it’ll clear his head. Sits on the beach, watches the sky darken over the water. Wonders if he should play it cool and wait to text her. Wonders if he even wants to text her at all.

He knows he’s ready to date again after Lauren, has been for a while now, so eventually, he does text, because pining after you isn’t going to get him anywhere.

He thinks he can be your friend, if that's all he's going to get.

He’s just barely gotten through his front door when you knock, sweaty and red-faced.

“Just got back from a run,” you tell him, clearly having seen the question perched on his lips. You’re still breathing a little hard and it’s sending his blood in the opposite direction of where he needs it to be going.

The sweat dripping down into the valley of your breasts is giving him decidedly not friendly thoughts.

“You hate running,” he says instead, brows furrowed.

You shrug. “Did you make plans with the girl from the bar?”

He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“Yeah,” he answers finally. “We’re going out this weekend.”

“That’s great,” you say flatly, immediately turning to leave, picking up your forgotten suitcase a little too aggressively, like it’s done something to offend you.

“Hey, wait, hold on.” Bradley reaches out for your arm, tugging gently and forcing you to stop in your tracks. “Are we in a fight right now? Is this about the wedding?”

“No,” you answer petulantly. You won’t meet his eyes, instead staring down at where his fingers encircle your wrist.

“No, we’re not in a fight or no, this isn’t about the wedding?”

“This isn’t about the wedding,” you reply through clenched teeth. “Not entirely, at least.”

He can’t help but let pride swell through him at your words, knowing a few months ago you would’ve lied about being fine until you were blue in the face.

It still feels like he’s taking a shot in the dark, a tiny flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “You told me to ask her out.”

You cringe, face twisting in pain like you just sucked on a lemon. “Only because you were pushing me to go back to Jake! I thought that was what you wanted. I thought—”

You’re breathing hard, but he’s pretty sure your chest is heaving with emotion, not from your run. Your mouth is open to continue when he says your name.

Not Cali. It sounds hard and serious as it passes his lips. You wince and he immediately feels bad.

“Stop,” he continues firmly, determined not to lose his nerve at the hurt crossing your features, willing himself not to get worked up and loud. “Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I was doing. I know we went to the wedding as friends, but it’s stupid to deny there’s been something building between us for a while now.”

Your expression softens and Bradley knows instantly that you feel it too.

“I just didn’t want you to shut the door on Jake out of some obligation to me. I want you to choose me, for me. Not because I’m not him.”

He sees the moment it clicks for you, the second you start seeing how the wedding must’ve looked through his eyes.

“I’ll never go back to Jake,” you say quietly. “For lots of reasons that have nothing to do with you.”

Something inside him unfurls, anxiety sitting in his stomach loosening, but he’s not done, can’t be done, until his intentions are crystal clear.

“What do you want? Do you even know? Because I know what I want.” He grabs your arms, turning your body to face him fully. Hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him as he tries to gather the courage to say this next part. “And I can’t settle for anything less. If you want casual, I can’t give you that.”

“I don’t want you to go out with her.” It’s as good as an admission from you, he knows that.

Dark eyes warm as the beginning of a smile stretches across his face. His chest is lightening, warmth bubbling within. “How come?”

“You’re smart enough to do the math,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But there’s a bright, happy tinge edging at the corners of your mouth.

He’s full-on grinning now, reaching to pull you into him by the waist. He tucks his face into your hair, so you won’t see the giddy expression on his face. “Tell me anyways.”

“Want you all to myself,” you mumble, lips ghosting over his skin to make him shudder.

You might have more to say, but Bradley used all his patience flying today and his hand tilts your chin to him, lips covering yours before you can make another sound.

You make a tiny mewl in surprise against his mouth as he grips you, tongue sliding past your lips and his blood immediately rushes south.

Making a face when Bradley manages to pull himself away from your lips, you look down at your sweaty sports bra. “I need to shower.”

“Shower here,” he suggests. “I’ll make us dinner. You can spend the night, maybe? And I won’t sleep on the couch this time? I promise I’ll behave.”

Bradley sees his hopeful eyes mirrored back at him when he finally takes a chance to look at your face.

Things are so shakily composed between the two of you, that he’s somewhat afraid if he lets you go back downstairs to your apartment you’ll spiral and come up with a hundred reasons not to give you guys a shot.

Maybe he’s being insecure, sue him.

You seem to understand where he’s coming from, the tenuous connection hanging delicately in the air between the two of you. Nodding, your fingers play with the hem of his shirt fitfully before you rush to his shower, like if you waited for another second you might not be able to peel yourself off him.

He inflates with pride at that too.

Bradley overestimated his abilities, probably, when he promised to behave. He didn’t think about how hard it would be not to think about you naked in his shower while he seeks out ingredients to throw together for dinner.

Didn’t think about how good you’d smell, fragrant with his body wash as you wrap your arms around him from behind.

Bradley’s movements are shaky, and jerky when he turns around to kiss you. He clears his throat, and only just barely keeps himself from running his hands underneath the baggy top that hangs off your shoulders. “Is that my shirt?”

You freeze. “I…yes. Is that okay? I didn’t have anything with me, but I can run downstairs…”

You say something under your breath that he can’t quite make out. Your face is completely unreadable and Bradley’s body flashes hot and cold every other second.

“No, don’t, it, uh, looks good on you,” he says finally when he’s pretty sure he’s not going to rip it in the process of pulling it over your head.

Bradley’s taking deep breaths, using grounding techniques. He breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. He knows you’re not trying to tease him. You’re not doing anything, not really.

This is Florida, everyone is scantily clad more often than they’re not.

If he’s going to behave, he’s going to have to tap into that self-control he beat himself over the head with every time he saw you in a bikini before today.

It’s just so much worse now that he’s allowed to touch you.

“It’s hard, with you looking like that in my shirt. I want to fuck you stupid,” he admits.

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

“But I think we should take things slow. I don’t want to mess this up by jumping in before we’re ready.”

His cock twitches when he notices the disappointment you’re not trying very hard to hide.

“Okay,” you pout. “You’re probably right.”

You turn to open the fridge, leaning to grab a water and his shirt rides up a little higher on your already bare legs.

Bradley groans, head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “Baby, you’re killing me.”

You can’t believe how much you hated Florida beaches when you first moved. The Keys are beautiful, with endless white sand and clear water.

You convince Bradley to stop by Publix on the way back, with promises of pasta for dinner. You really just want a sub to take to work tomorrow, but you’re not going to tell him that.

The poor cashier practically swallows her tongue when she sees Bradley, shirt open over his bare chest and covered in sand, sunglasses sliding down his nose that’s pink from the sun. He makes sure to look at her name tag and smiles genuinely at her when he asks, Alice, how’s your day going?

You’re going to pass out.

Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.

It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t so adorable.

This time you’re counting all the ways he’s not Jake, but it’s a good thing. Jake would’ve preened, leaned into smirk, just so he could see the blush rise on the poor girl’s cheeks.

It’s not that that’s bad, you know you do the same sometimes. Smirking at guys you know are giving you a once-over while you make their drinks, sparkle in your eyes because you don’t always hate the attention.

But it’s oddly endearing with Bradley, how he doesn’t seem to know the effect he has on people. Like he doesn’t fly multi-million-dollar planes for a living, like he couldn’t use that to get any girl he wanted in his bed.

He’s just being mean when you guys get to the car, flinging his unbuttoned shirt off and into the back of the Bronco and muttering something about tan lines.

Your mouth is watering.

When you get back to your complex, you snag his forgotten shirt and form a plan.

“Caliiiiiii,” Bradley sings as he bursts into your apartment. It’s a good thing you never listened to Beth about locking your front door because shirtless Bradley Bradshaw is a sight to behold. “Showered so you wouldn’t complain about—”

You hear him stop dead in his tracks at the entrance to your kitchen. When you look over your shoulder at him those plush lips are parted, eyes roaming over the back of you. You’re clad in one of his marginally less offensive button-ups (at least there aren’t any birds on it), thrown hastily over your bikini.

“How gentlemanly of you to shower for dinner with little ol’ me,” you giggle. “But I have to admit I haven’t had time for more than rinsing the sand off.”

He ignores you completely, tone accusing like you hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You consider denying it but can’t fully hold back the smirk forming. “Well, you seemed to enjoy it when I wore your shirt last time.”

Bradley just nods dumbly.

“Anyways, don’t get too excited, this is one of three dishes I can actually make, but I thought we’d…” You trail off because he’s suddenly right behind you, crowding you so you feel the heat radiating from him as he brackets you with his arms.

“Nope,” he says tersely. “Dinner can wait. Turn off the stove.”

He turns you around so he can kiss you, slow and deliberate. His tongue slides between your lips assertively, hands tapping on your thighs as a sign for you to hop backward and up on the counter. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“Wait, what?” You ask, but he’s already on his knees.

You should’ve known then and there he was going to be nothing but trouble.

The first time Bradley makes you come, you’re still in the kitchen. He’s kneeling with his face buried in your pussy, skimpy bathing suit bottoms long flung behind him, lips curled around your clit insistently even as your thighs clutch his head in a way that must be uncomfortable. After all his talk of wanting to wait and do things right, it’s almost funny. Would be, if your mind wasn’t currently busy whiting out.

The second time, he drags you to the living room before you’ve had any time to recover and pulls your back against his chest in front of the couch. The tall mirror in the corner of the living room displays the absolute debauchery unfolding on the floor in the middle of your apartment.

“Keep your legs open, baby. You can do that, right? Be good for me?”

You’re nodding before you even know what you’re doing, head jerking up and down like a bobblehead.

“Fuck, look at you,” he croons in between the nips he’s determinedly pressing on your neck. Barely even a command, you still look up, watching your reflection as his lips trace across the top of your shoulder, mustache leaving red marks in its wake. One hand is busy tugging the strings of your bathing suit top loose so he can toss it out of his way, while the other drifts to tease your inner thighs.

Bronze eyes meet yours in the mirror and he grins, like the cat that got the canary. “Gorgeous, darlin’.” And then he pushes two fingers into you without warning, the stretch making you keen as your head falls back on his shoulder. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about you like this.”

“Ohmygo—Bradley.” You turn your head to kiss him, but it ends up being little more than your lips slotting together and you moaning straight into his mouth as he fucks his fingers in relentlessly, your hands gripping his arms like they can’t decide if they want to pull him in closer or push him away, oversensitive as you are from his mouth.

You sink into him, into his hands, his grip. Let it erase the gravity that keeps you tethered to the ground, let yourself flutter high above the clouds.

You don’t even realize how close you are until he curls his fingers inside you to graze that soft spot, thumbing at your clit. His other hand palms your tit and tweaks your nipple at the same time his teeth close on your neck and you’re done for, letting it crash into you, cunt clenching around his fingers and back arching away from his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to come down, eyes closed as you blindly turn your head in search of Bradley’s mouth. He kisses you sweetly, but briefly and you make a noise of discontent when he pulls away. You open your eyes to glower at him but when you do, you see a filthy gleam in his eyes that warms you straight to your core like you didn’t just come twice in two different rooms of your house.

His fingers are suddenly pressing at your lips, and you watch his eyes glaze over as you take them in and suck, licking your release from his fingers. You’re suddenly very, very aware of how hard he is behind you, thighs clenching at the realization that he’s straining against his shorts, grinding against your ass because he’s so turned on from getting you off.

God, he’s so perfect it’s not even fair.

His digits in your mouth are giving you your own wicked ideas, about returning the favor as you wriggle your way around to face him. It’s a good thing his other arm immediately goes to support you because you’re pretty sure your legs are made of jelly.

He seems to read your mind, or maybe just the way your cheeks hollow around his fingers as you look down to the bulge in his pants, lips already forming wicked promises as he pulls his hand away from you. “Next time, baby. Need to be inside you.”

The high-pitched whimper that leaves you at that would be embarrassing if you could currently remember that you have downstairs neighbors. You can’t, though, so who cares.

“Want you to ride me,” he grunts. “Have to see how gorgeous my girl looks bouncing in my lap. Can you do that for me?”

To be honest, you’re not sure you can. It’s a 50/50 chance your legs will give out the moment Bradley stops holding you up, but you want to, want to so badly.

You nod anyways, figuring odds are Bradley will catch you if you melt into the floor, and he swings around so he can lay flat on the rug. His shirt slips off your shoulders, getting trapped around your elbows as you lean forward to support yourself on his chest. You’re about to fling it off when he makes a strangled noise, hands going to bring the material back up.

“Baby, please.” There’s a little whine in Bradley’s voice that turns you inside out. “Keep it on.”

That sweetness, that little crack in his dominance is way hotter than it has any right to be.

You make quick work of his shorts, biting your lip as you pull him out, his tip red and leaking precum.

“Christ, Bradley, this how you got your callsign?” You manage to mumble as he pulls you up to balance your hand on his chest again.

The bastard winks. “I know you can take it. Been so good for me, why stop now?”

Using your free hand to guide you, you sink down slowly, not bothering to hold in the moans at the stretch of him.

Stars are bursting behind your eyes that are squeezed tight against the intensity of it, your slick walls are oversensitive and shaking already. Bradley’s hands are clenched on your hips, trying not to move before you’re ready.

You roll your hips, starting to find your rhythm, and he groans, head thumping back against the floor.

When he looks back up at you his eyes are almost completely black. “Look so fucking beautiful bouncing on my cock, darlin'.”

He reaches up to grab your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples just to make you squirm even more, before trailing his fingers down to your clit as he starts shifting up to meet the grind of your hips and it’s so much, too much, sending sparks straight through you.

You shudder. “Bradley—da—I can’t.”

There’s something knowing in his gaze, at your pace stuttering, at your half-formed words trying to claw their way out of your throat. He slows as you do, ever so slightly pulling his finger from your clit. “Need a break, baby?”

You bite your lip, refusing to meet his molten gaze, giving only a tiny shake of your head, trying to find your rhythm again.

When he smirks, you can feel it permeating the air around you. “That’s what I thought. One more, I know you can give me one more.”

He plants his feet flat on the floor behind you, giving himself the power and leverage to fuck you in earnest from below. You’re trembling, you know sounds are leaving your mouth, but you’ve no idea if they’re words at this point.

You’re not fluttering above the clouds anymore, you’re flying, speeding through, fast and hard and riotous.

Bradley’s voice is low and gravelly, but he’s looking up at you with reverence. “It’s okay, baby, you can let go. I’ve got you, gonna take care of my girl.”

“Daddy,” you whine, any sense of coherency, shame, or worry having left you two orgasms ago.

The sound that rips from Bradley’s chest at that is rough and guttural, hands going to your hips in a bruising hold. “That’s right, gonna come for daddy like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, babbling, keening yesdaddyyesfuckbradley— You dig your nails into his chest as it hits you. Electricity ripples under your skin, through your veins, dominoes cascading down and hitting every nerve ending in your body. It’s right on the edge of pain, body worn out and spent from tensing and releasing.

“Fuck, baby, so gorgeous when you come on my cock, gonna fuck my girl so full,” he grunts, big hands bouncing you like a ragdoll in his lap.

Even through the fog, his words hit you hard. “Fuck—please, daddy.”

His thrusts get shallower, wilder, before his back arches from the floor, mouth spilling incoherent praise, holding you down onto him as he spills inside of you.

You slump down onto him, the only sound in the room yours and Bradley’s heavy breathing.

You’re falling apart, body trembling and shaking, and you’re still on the floor. You’ve no idea how you’ll survive when Bradley finally takes you to a bed.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any hotter.”

You flush pink immediately, wincing as you move to get off him, wetness sliding down your thighs. He scoops you up almost immediately, carrying you to the shower and mumbling under his breath about making sure to keep daddy’s cum inside of you.

“Oh my god, Bradley,” you whine. “I can’t go again."

The pasta is completely unsalvageable by the time you get out of the shower. He’s lucky you’re willing to share your precious sandwich with him.

When you see your downstairs neighbor the next day, she immediately reddens and turns on her heel to get away from you.

You’re back at the beach when Penny gets a call from you.

“Burning off some energy,” you tell her when she asks what you’re up to. “I’ve had a lot of that lately.”

“Should’ve just let me introduce you to Rooster from the beginning.”

“Who says this has anything to do with Rooster?” You ask, even though both of you know you’re lying through your teeth.

“Nothing wrong with being happy, honey.” You can hear her smiling through the phone.

“I might actually be happy?” You joke. “Is that what this is?”

“You guys are in the honeymoon phase. Every song on the radio is about you, neither of you can do anything wrong—”

“Oh, he does plenty wrong, believe me—”

Penny isn’t bothering to hide her laugh anymore, but her tone is still soft and caring. “It’s sweet. Rooster’s a good guy. He’s been through a lot.”

“He is. I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop,” you admit. “Wish I could just enjoy it.”

“It’s hard. You don’t give your heart away easily,” Penny responds like you’re easy to read, easy to understand.

Maybe you are.

“You wouldn’t be taking this chance unless he was worth it,” she adds when you don’t answer, too busy thinking about how maybe that mask you’ve always worn isn’t as opaque as you thought it was.

Maybe that’s fine. Maybe you really are as strong as you pretended to be with that mask.

That’s the thing about masks. Sometimes you realize they’re more a part of you than you ever thought. When you thought you were faking it the whole time.

“He’s definitely worth it.”

Rooster raises an eyebrow at you, having come back to the tree you’ve taken residence under.

“Talking about my other boyfriend,” you tease, trying not to get distracted by the swimsuit that seems to be riding lower than it was before he ventured into the water.

“Hand the phone to Rooster, I want to talk to him.”

You giggle, sticking it out in his direction. “Penny wants to talk to you.”

“If you think my loyalty here lies with you, you're sorely mistaken,” Penny says, warning dancing all over her tone.

“You don’t have to be worried, Pen.” Bradley looks at you, eyes warm, fingers drifting up your legs. “If anyone’s gonna get their heart broken here, it’s me.”

d a y 3 6 7

You don’t notice the date, but a year since you moved to Florida, almost to the day, you realize you’re in love with Bradley Bradshaw.

As it turns out, loving Bradley is like flying high above the clouds.

#rooster x you #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster angst #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster #steady

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mistiell · 3 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Fluff - 💛

Suggestive/Adult-ish themes - 💗

Smut - ❤️

Angst with happy ending/comfort- 🖤💞

Angst with unhappy ending/no comfort- 🖤💔

Joke headcanons/fic - 🤪

Arcane

Headcanons

💛Dates Arcane Characters Would Like to Go on

💛Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💛Mel x Artist! Reader Headcanons (Sorta angsty if you squint)

💛Random Viktor x Reader Relationship Headcanons

💛Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💛How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💛How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys You

💛❤️ More Viktor Headcanons

💛Quirks Arcane Characters have Pt. 2

💛Rating Arcane Characters Based on how Easy it Would be to Sleep with Them

🤪 Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why.

💛How Arcane Characters would Take Care of You While You’re Sick

💛Arcane Characters React to You Wearing Their Clothes

💛 Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your body

💛Sleepy Jayce Headcanons

💛💗Drunk Viktor Headcanons

💛How Arcane Characters Flirt

💛Arcane Characters with an S/O that gets Angry Easily

💛Arcane Characters with an S/O who Likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💛Arcane Characters Cuddling with an Awkward S/O

💛Viktor x Reader who Loves his Accent and Hands

💛Viktor and Jayce x TransMasc!Reader

💛How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💛Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting You

💛Viktor with an S/O with Joint Problems

💛Viktor with an S/O with Asthma

💛Prince! Jayce x Royal! Reader (Kinda angsty if you squint)

💛 Who Would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💛 Viktor x Fem! Councillor! Reader

🖤💞 Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

🖤💞Viktor with an S/O Struggling with Depression

💛Viktor and Jayce with an S/O that Struggles with Sleep

💛What Genres of Films would Arcane Characters Watch

💛Jayce with an Affectionate S/O

Fics

❤️Mornings like This - Viktor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Literally just soft morning sex lmao

💛 Flustered - Jayce x GenderNeutral! Reader

💗Piltover Parties - Vi x Fem!Reader

🖤💞Emotions are Great, aren’t They? - Viktor x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Viktor have been dancing around each other’s feelings for years, both convinced the other doesn’t feel the same way. When Sky enters the picture, clearly head over heels for the man, you can’t help but feel jealous. Viktor notices, and finally decides to take matters into his own hands.

💛 Comfort - Jayce x GenderNeutral!Reader

💛A Less than Romantic Proposal - Jayce x GenderNeutral!Reader

💛 Jinx x GN! Reader

Summary: Jinx asks you to braid her hair because you’re the only one that does it right

Shitposts

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have Said

Arcane Memes

Marshmallow Shenanigans

Ew, Affection

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have Said Pt.2

Sleep Deprivation is Wack

MHA (No longer writing)

Headcanons

💛 “Quirks” MHA Characters Have Pt.1 (Izuku, Katsuki, Shoto, Hitoshi)

💛 “Quirks” MHA Characters Have Pt.2 (Denki, Eijiro, Mina, Ochako)

Shitposts

Monoma’s a bitch

Stranger Things

Headcanons

💛Eddie Munson Relationship Headcanons

💛Misc. Eddie Headcanons

💛Nicknames Stranger Things Characters would call You

💛Fluff Alphabet with Eddie Munson

❤️NSFW Alphabet with Eddie Munson

💛Quirks Stranger Things Characters have

Fics

🖤💞Battle scars - Eddie x GN! Reader

Summary: You and the others have defeated Vecna and have gone your separate ways to tend to your wounds. Your boyfriend, Eddie, insists on making sure you’re okay.

💛Nobody Better than You - Eddie x GN! Reader

Summary: Eddie gets a little insecure after some asshole says something about your relationship. You, being the lovely partner that you are, assure him that he’s the only one for you

🖤💞Just a Dream - Eddie x GN! Reader

Summary: You keep having nightmares about your time in the upside down, specifically what could’ve happened to Eddie if you hadn’t got to him in time. Thankfully, the man in question is always there to comfort you.

💛A Phone Call Away - Eddie x GN! Reader

Summary: When you wake up from a nightmare and call Eddie to check on him, someone else answers the phone.

💛Strange and Unusual - Eddie x Fem! Reader

Summary: While you and Eddie spend a lazy Saturday afternoon cuddling, you’re absolutely awestruck by how unbelievably gorgeous he is. Problem is, you can’t seem to find a word that fits him perfectly. Until it hits you. Selcouth.

💛In Sickness and in Health - Eddie x Fem! Reader

Summary: Eddie takes care of you while you’re sick.

Fan Art

According to Eddie, Steve’s a slut

Series

Whiplash - Eddie x Fem! Reader

Summary: A season 4 fix-it fic with an ‘x reader’ insert because it destroyed me and I still need comfort months later.

Chapter 1

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crikeygatormate · 3 years ago

Text

I Will Always Return (Pt. 6)

Summary: You are the eldest daughter to the mayor of Wrywood back when the wild west was more than just a movie genre. Your father is a sly politician who managed to find himself stuck between a rock and a hard place with a large crime group that resided in the city and the west’s most notorious group of outlaws. Somehow you find yourself stuck in the middle.

Warnings: MDNI (that should be known but especially now!) gun violence, gore, gen violence, major character death x2, animal death, angst, death of a family member(s) described ish, virgin!Reader, reader has afab anatomy, corruption kink (i think don't come at me if I'm wrong lmao), oral m & f receiving, dacryphylla if you squint, I think that's it, lmk if I left anything out this one is long af

Hello friends, this is the last part of this series. I'm sad to see it go, but it's been so fun to write. I think this is the first time i've ever finished a series lol so yay :-) But thank you guys for the support! I've loved reading everyone's thoughts, makes me smile :-)

None of y'all better come at me w/ this smut, it's not my strong suit LMAO this is like the second time I've written it so hopefully, it's not too bad idk part of me was like phew you rushed it lol also idk if I the like ending but oh well :,)

Sorry in advance for the typos :) I have the attention span of a fly when it comes to proofreading

Word count: 20.5k

The next morning you woke up late. The sun was bright, making you squint as you pushed the last remnants of sleep from your mind. For a brief moment, after realizing that you were in your room, you thought everything that had happened was just a dream, until someone knocked on your open door.

You rubbed your eyes looking over your shoulder to see Bakugou leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. He looked well rested for the first time in a long time.

“Why’d you let me sleep in so late?” you asked, stifling a yawn with the back of your hand.

Bakugou shrugged, watching you try to smooth down your messy hair. There was a touch of fondness that crossed his features as he continued to watch you move. “Thought you needed the sleep, and it’s gonna be a while till we have a break again.”

You furrowed your brows as you stood up and slipped on your boots, “thanks.” You narrowed your eyes at him, making him scoff.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” Bakugou asked, shaking his head a bit.

“Did you make plans without me? Is that why you let me sleep in?” you questioned coming to a stop in front of him.

Bakugou snorted, tilting his head down to look at your serious face, “no I didn’t, think I learned my lesson about doin’ things without you.”

You lifted a brow as a small smile grew across your features, “oh you did? I’m shocked that you’re even admitting that.” You supposed he was referring to when you made him explain his reasoning about why he was using you as bait back in Izuku’s stable.

Bakugou snorted again, and he took one hand and wrapped it around the back of your neck, making you jolt in surprise. “It’s still too early for your attitude, princess,” he said, glancing down at you with a small smile.

Your face warmed as he led you towards the stairs and slipped his hand down from the back of your neck before walking down towards the first floor. Maybe the talk you had with him last night finally tore down his walls, and all of them. He seemed more relaxed around you like he was letting you in, and this time for good.

The smile on your face grew larger as you began to follow him down the stairs where you saw the others lounging by the kitchen.

“Well look who's finally up,” Sero commented, his gaze cutting towards Bakugou who sent him a gnarly glare, and then back to you.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t realize I slept in so late,” you said sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of your shirt.

“We all slept in dumbass,” Mina said as she smacked Sero on the back of the head, making him yelp.

The mood suddenly seemed to turn rather sour at the thought of what was going to happen next. You all were about to figure out how to confront Keigo and Kaminari. Not to mention, Bakugou still needed his money to buy Keigo’s estate so he could prove that Keigo was a killer.

You took a seat next to Kirishima who was sipping some coffee he must have found back in your kitchen from an old mug. He glanced down at you as he blew on the coffee trying to cool it off.

“So how’s this gonna go down?” Sero asked, breaking the silence, “we’re down two men.”

Bakugou nodded, choosing to stay silent a few moments before his gaze cut to you. He was thinking and it looked like whatever he was thinking about was something he didn’t like. “Yeah,” he drawled, looking away from you and back to Sero. “I’m thinkin’ we may need to ask for some help.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” Kirishima suddenly said, his voice thick with anger. “Don’t be fuckin’ dumb Katsuki.”

You were almost in shock with how angry Kirishima sounded. He was practically bristling next to you. In the time you’ve known him, he’s been what you would describe a gentle giant? Obviously, you knew he wasn’t actually gentle, but he seemed to like to make sure you were okay.

“The four of us can’t go up against both of them,” Bakugou said, “and Y/n’s only actually hit a target once, and that was a bottle. We need them.”

You frowned at him, but you knew Bakugou was right. You didn’t have the experience to go headfirst into a gunfight. You sure could keep up on horseback, but shooting was something totally different.

“Well,” Mina began, “I sure as hell ain’t going with y’all if you’re gonna get them. Y/n won’t want to either.”

“I don’t want to see those assholes too,” Kirishima added, his voice low with disgust.

You glanced between everyone, utterly lost and confused. “Who are we talking about?”

“Shigaraki and Dabi,” Kirishima answered, holding his heated gaze with Bakugou, “I mentioned them to you before, those two are trouble. Got no respect, and are the biggest snakes I’ve ever met.”

“But we need them,” Bakugou argued, growing frustrated, “they fight dirty, and we all know Keigo and Kaminari do too. They’re just bodies at the end of the day, and they don’t seem to care as long as they get paid.”

“I ain’t goin’ then,” Mina hissed, narrowing her eyes.

You frowned, was Bakugou truly that desperate to get help from people he has no respect for? This plan so far seemed to be emotionally charged again, like the last one he made. Even though your plan had gone badly, only one person had gotten hurt. If everyone had shown up that day, who knows what would have happened.

“Don’t you still need money?” you asked, “why would you want to hire people then?”

Bakugou clenched his jaw, probably frustrated that you were right again. “I do need money-”

“Then it seems smart to get your money first, no?” you questioned, “In case you forgot, I still have a bounty on my head.”

“I’m not fuckin’ turnin’ you in again,” Bakugou said quickly, “that’s not an option. If you’re gonna come up with a plan, then think of somethin’ else.”

Kirishima let out an amused huff from next to you as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Why not?” Sero asked, “it’s easy, Y/n can turn herself in, we know Keigo isn’t there this time. Sounds good to me.”

“I said no,” Bakugou snapped as he narrowed his eyes.

Sero held up his hands, fighting off a smile.

You glanced down at the floor, lost in thought as you tried to think of something better than turning yourself in. Honestly, there didn’t seem to be any other option. You could go talk to your sister and mother? Shindo had three grand, surely, he owns one the largest cattle ranches in your town.

Although, they probably all believed the post about you. There was a good chance they didn’t, but you didn’t want to risk getting caught. You sighed, running your forefinger along the grain of the wood floor, wincing when a small piece would bend up and splinter your finger.

You hated these floors. They were so uselessly expensive. The money that your father poured into this house was laughable, and now it belonged to no one. Taken back by the bank and it would probably be used to build a couple more houses down the line.

It was hard to imagine that you were here just a little less than a month ago getting ready for that stupid ball to be married off to Monoma.

Then you froze. Monoma. Neito Monoma who was the son of Vlad Monoma, one of the wealthiest men in the city down south. “I have an idea,” you began, still loosely forming it in your mind, “what if we go get your money from Monoma?”

“That blonde asshole?” Bakugou asked, rubbing the side off his face in frustration.

You nodded, “yeah, him. His family is so rich, they wouldn’t even notice three grand was missin’.”

“That’s right, you brought that up the first night you were with us,” Kirishima said while setting down his empty mug. “That might work.”

“What about Keigo and Kaminari? We can’t let that trail get cold. The tracks might be gone from the rain last night, and if another storm comes through we’ll never find them,” Bakugou said.

“Then we gotta split up,” Sero said, “some of us track Keigo and Kaminari, the others go down south to get the money.”

Bakugou looked conflicted, his gaze was bouncing between the entire group before landing on you. He knew your plan was good, and he really did need that money. Without it he was just chasing a ghost. “Alright, then where's everyone goin’?”

“You’re our best tracker, Katsuki,” Kirishima said, “you should follow Keigo and Kaminari’s trail. Sero can go with you, he’s the quietest out of all of us too.”

“So that leaves us three to go down south,” Mina said, “that’s good that Y/n is with us, she’ll help us blend in, and she knows more about the Monoma’s than any of us.”

You shared a glance with Bakugou who nodded, he looked upset, but there was nothing he could do. This was the best plan moving forward.

“How long do you think it’ll take to get that money?” Bakugou asked, his voice was almost solemn.

You shrugged, “depends. The city always holds a huge rodeo around the middle of summer, should be in a few days I’d bet. So no longer than a couple of days at most.”

“Fine,” Bakugou concluded, “make a plan then.”

—-------

You spent the rest of the day creating a plan. You had three days to execute it.

You knew that the Monoma’s always donated a large sum of money towards the summer rodeo. It helped promote their business and reminded everyone who ran the city. You planned that Kirishima, Mina, and you would sneak into the rodeo and steal the prize money. Although you didn’t know where the prize money would be held, you knew a certain blonde would, and he most certainly would be there.

Once you had the money, you’d ride back to Kirishima and Bakugou’s hometown where Kirishima would buy Keigo’s estate. Then you’d wait for Bakugou and Sero to meet you back at Keigo’s estate.

From there four of you would ride out and lure Kaminari and Keigo back to the estate where Baukugou and Kirishima will finally prove that Keigo was the one who had killed their families.

It wasn’t a very fleshed-out plan, and you knew it could fall through at any moment, but it was the only one you had. So it had to work, you would make it work.

The rest of the morning you packed for the trip. You had to find outfits that made Kirishima and Mina fit in with normal citizens and cover their identities. Thankfully, not everything had been taken from your house and you were able to find Mina and you some day dresses that would help you both blend in. Kirishima however, there was no way you could find any clothes that would fit him besides an old cowboy hat and an oversized jean jacket.

You frowned, holding up the pale pink dress you found in your sister’s room, it was dotted with little flowers and spots. It looked like it could fit Mina, well you hoped it would cause there wasn’t another dress except for the one you found for yourself.

“That’s fuckin’ ugly,” Bakugou’s gruff voice filled the room.

You turned around to see him walking towards you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He came to a stop next to you, eyeing the small bag you had stuffed with clothes. “It was my sisters,” you answered, “and it always looked good on her.”

“Whatever, it’s still ugly,” Bakugou said as pulled his hands out of his pockets and sat down next to you.

You snorted, as you went to put the dress in your bag, but he was already pulling out the dress you had just put in there. “Hey, I just folded that.”

Bakugou snorted, yanking the pale yellow dress out. “You wearin’ this one?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm as he hummed. “Why ya askin’?”

Bakugou shrugged as he put the dress back in your bag before leaning back on his hands. “I like yellow.”

Your eyes widened and your face immediately felt like it was on fire as you put the pink dress in and tied the bag shut.

Bakugou’s gaze slid over to you and you noticed that his cheeks were dusted with pink. He was embarrassed too.

The air between you both seemed to shift a bit as you fiddled with the string on your bag. You sighed, finally looking back at him to see he was still watching you. “Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay aren’t you?” you asked as you sat back on your heels.

Bakugou tilted his head, “course I am, I’ll be fuckin’ fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

You gave him a crooked smile, “I’ll be okay, Monoma’s about as dangerous as a fly. I mean you saw how he was.”

Bakugou smirked, “yeah, I know. I just,” he trailed off, turning his gaze away from you and to the window. He squinted, obviously not able to find his words.

“What?” you asked, leaning in closer to him.

“I dunno,” he sighed, now looking back at you. He sighed heavily again, “you’re gonna come back to me right?”

You froze, unsure if you heard him right. After last night, you knew how he felt about you now, but his words now held a heavy weight to them. It was something you weren’t expecting to hear, and while it was almost frightening to hear him ask you that question, you were relieved that he did at the same time.

After a beat, you answered, “I’ll always come back to you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou nodded, looking like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He then stood up, knowing that it was time to go, and he stuck out his hand for you to grab.

You slipped your hand into his, trying to calm your racing heart as he pulled you up and to your surprise tugged you into his embrace. Slowly you felt him wrap his arms around you, squeezing tight as he placed his chin on the top of your head.

“Stay close to Eijirou,” Bakugou said quietly.

“I will,” you replied, pressing your cheek against his chest. He was always so warm, and you loved how safe you felt with Bakugou.

After a few more moments, Bakugou pulled away from you, letting his arms slip down from your sides. You moved away too, already missing being so close to him. It was weird how easy it was to be close to him. You had never imagined that you would willing let a man into your bubble, your space, and now you wanted Bakugou to be in yours constantly.

“Better get goin’,” Bakugou said, his deep voice laced with sorrow.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you replied, giving him a melancholy smile. But you would see him in a few days, you promised that You grabbed your bag and followed Bakugou down the stairs and out of the house to see that everyone else was already ready to go.

Mina snickered at you as she glanced between you and Bakugou with a knowing smile. “Don’t have all day, Kats.”

“Shut your trap, raccoon eyes,” Bakugou snapped as he got up on his horse. “You three better not do anything stupid, we’re countin’ on y’all.”

“Nothing to worry about, Katsuki,” Kirishima answered with an open grin. “It’ll be fun, I’ve never been to a rodeo.”

“Eijirou, you better not mess this up,” Bakugou warned, and then he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned his horse around, “just get out of here, gettin’ on my nerves.”

Kirishima laughed and tapped his horse's flanks with his boots, urging his horse into a slow trot.

You got up on your horse and you adjusted your bag on your back as you shared one last smile with Bakugou before following Kirishima down into town and towards the city. You reckoned that the three of you would reach the city by sunset, giving you time to scope out the area and plan for the rodeo tomorrow.

Hopefully, everything will work out in the end. You sighed, glancing back over your shoulder to see that Bakugou was already watching you. It seemed you were always leaving him when things were starting to get better between the two of you. You smiled to yourself and turned back around only to see that Mina was practically right in front of your face.

“You know,” she began, “I always knew he’d go after ya. Never once saw Bakugou gawk at a woman until you came into camp that night.”

Your face warmed, “oh, I don’t know. He seemed pretty fed up with me, and honestly, I was too.”

“Yeah, but that man has never once shown interest in anyone, and I really mean that, until you came along,” Mina explained with a laugh. “Probably is a shit lover, he knows nothin’ about nothin’”

Your eyes widened in shock as Kirishima glanced at you over his shoulder snickering at Mina’s comment. “I,” your voice caught, “nothin’ like that happened at all. I mean, he kissed me and then ran away-”

“He ran away?” Kirishima hooted, “are you kiddin’?”

You shook your head feeling extremely embarrassed that they were talking about your barely budding relationship with Bakugou.

“Knew somethin’ was up with him that week, I told you!” Mina shouted at Kirishima, “I made a bet with Sero too, damn, wish he was here so I could get my money.” She then turned to you, “no wonder you were so sad, poor thing.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, wincing a bit, “ah you know, it’s not really that interesting to talk about-”

“Oh I think so,” Mina interrupted with a heavy nod, “I’m sure Eijirou thinks so too, right?”

Kirishima nodded, slowing his horse down so he could ride on the other side of you, “course I do, he must be pretty serious about ya, Y/n, I reckon.”

You gulped, the sun beating down on your back felt like it was a thousand degrees and you wiped your forehead with the back of your sleeve. Why were you so nervous? You figured everyone already had an idea about you and Bakugou, he was subtle but it wasn’t that hard to figure out you both liked each other.

“You gotta tell us all about your time in the mountains, it’ll help kill the time anyway,” Mina said as she slipped her boots out of her stirrups to stretch her legs.

“It’s not very interesting,” you paused, glancing at their eager faces. It made you wonder briefly why they were so interested in Bakugou’s love life. Was it really so much of a spectacle? If it was, it did make you feel a small twinge of pride.

“Well go on, we wanna hear it anyway,” Kirishima said with a wide grin.

So you began talking, explaining what it was like to travel with Bakugou. How he tended to your wound on the first night, and how he got breakfast for you both the next morning. Then you went on to explain how you left him during the fight with the military so he could escape, and how you came back to him asking to join his group. You explained how you also helped him with his wound and then Mina stopped you.

“He let you do that? She asked.

You nodded, “well he didn’t have any other choice, he had a fever.”

She hummed, sharing a glance with Kirishima before telling you to continue.

So you did, you went on explaining your fight with Keigo and how you hit your head, and Tokoyami. You begrudgingly told them how you slept on him by accident and how he started acting weird around you. However, you did not tell them about seeing him naked by the river. Something told you that they’d never let him or you live that down.

“-and then we rode down the mountain,” you explained wrapping up your story, “he then dropped me off at Izuku’s and y’all know the rest.”

Kirishima shook his head, chucking, “Katsuki, poor guy, maybe Sero will give ‘em some pointers, yeah? Sounds like he’s gonna need em’ soon.”

Mina snorted, “I hope so, it’s more like poor Y/n,” she shook her head, spurring her horse forward and past yours.

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what they were referring to.

—-----------

By the time you got to the city, it was beginning to grow dark. The sunset was a dark orange streaked with brilliant shades of red that reminded you of a pair of eyes you were already missing. It was sort of strange to feel so strongly about someone that you’ve only known for about a month, but you considered that you must be lucky to even feel so strongly about someone.

Once you passed the entrance of the city you were shocked to see how busy it was around this time of night. A massive train rumbled to a stop at the edge of the city and a large group of people got off, crowding the already busy streets.

Around you there were plenty of buildings, a good deal of them were bars and brothels. In fact, a gunshot caught your attention and you watched as a man came tumbling out of the bar, obviously, he was on the losing side of a bar fight.

“We better find somewhere to stay,” Kirishima said from next to you, “you think we could stay somewhere without getting noticed?”

You furrowed your brows, moving your horse around a couple of drunk men stumbling into the street, scuffing up dirt with their boots, “I’m not sure. You two are pretty well known-”

You paused answering your own question as you passed the sheriff’s office. It was probably the largest one you’ve ever seen and there right on the front of the door were six wanted posters that had your faces and bounties plastered on them. You sighed, “probably not.”

“Damn, where are we gonna stay then?” Kirishima asked, glancing around as the people around you became rowdier.

“Outside of town, just a little bit away?” you offered, not feeling confident in your answer.

“I say we just try to stay somewhere here,” Mina countered, “look how drunk everyone is, and it’s barely nightfall. I’m sure we can sneak on by.”

You shrugged, looking around for an inn, there was plenty to choose from. You ended up spotting one near the edge of town, and it looked to be rather empty despite its large size. Just like all of the other buildings by it, it was made of light wood and was two stories tall. It was clear that there was a lot of money in the city.

The three of you stopped your horses and tied them to the post out front before coming to a stop by the front door.

“I hope this works,” Kirishima said as he nudged a flower pot full of daisies with his boot. “Maybe an old lady lives here and won’t be able to recognize us.”

“We can hope,” you said with a meek smile as you opened the door. The inside of the inn was cozy. It was decorated with plenty of pink and there were at least a dozen candles lit around the main area. “Hello?” you called out.

There was a shuffle off to your left paired with a grumble, then out of the shadows a woman appeared. She was short with chin-length brown hair. It seemed that you caught her off guard since her cheeks were bright pink when she stopped in front of you.

“”M sorry, I didn't hear y’all come in,” she said with a small chuckle, eyeing the three of you briefly.

“It’s okay,” you replied with a smile, “do you have three rooms open?”

“I do!” she said quickly, rushing over to her tea table to grab some parchment paper and a feathered pen, “got three right upstairs.”

“Great, we’ll take them for one night,” you told her, hoping to keep her attention off Kirishima who was probably the most recognizable one out of your group. There weren’t many men who were so tall that sported bright red hair past their shoulders.

“Wonderful,” she answered, “just let me know your names and then I’ll give you your total,” she began, her pink gaze cutting towards Kirishima again.

“You can just put us under Midoriya,” Mina quickly said.

“Alright,” the innkeeper answered, slowly writing down the name on her paper. She glanced towards the three of you again and to your utter shock, she yanked out a pistol from beneath her table.

“Whoa!” Kirishima said, holding his hands up as the inn keep pointed the pistol right at his chest, “the hell are you doin’ lady?”

“I know who you are,” she hissed, walking out from behind the desk to herd Kirishima towards the door, “you’re that outlaw, the one who runs with Bakugou. ‘M not stupid.”

“Okay, fine,” Kirishima answered, dropping his act. It took him all but two seconds to yank the pistol out of the inn keeps hand and stuff it into his waistband, “you caught us, but we’re stayin’ either way. You can either forget this all happened or Mina here will tie you till mornin’.”

The innkeeper glanced at you and Mina, looking scared now, “I guess I can let you stay, but I’m goin’ to the sheriff if you lot aren’t out of here by dawn.”

“Done,” Kirishima said as he gave her a wry smile.

You let your shoulders relax as the three of you made your way past the innkeeper and up the stairs. It was sort of a miracle that she didn’t end up running to the sheriff’s office anyway. Then you really would have been in a tough place.

“That was close,” Mina said, voicing your thoughts.

“It was,” Kirishima added, “we’ll leave at dawn. You think we can find Monoma so early?” he asked you.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. It would be hard, the rodeo really didn’t start till later in the day so you had plenty of time to kill. “We’ll probably have to wait it out a little bit, till the rodeo is set to start.”

“Fine by me,” Kirishima said as he stopped outside his door, “I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

You nodded, walking to your own room and shutting the door behind you. As you got into bed for the night, you looked towards the yellow dress you had set out for tomorrow. It made you briefly wonder how Bakugou and Sero were doing. Have they found Keigo and Kaminari yet? If so, you hoped they stayed safe.

—----

The next morning you were up before dawn, getting ready for the day as you exchanged your riding clothes for a pretty summer dress. You sort of hated the dress you had on, always have, but after Bakugou told you he liked yellow, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

A short moment later you met Kirishima and Mina down in the front entryway, where the innkeeper was already waiting. She had her hands on her hips, looking rather tired as she kept her eyes trained on Kirishima.

“Sorry for troubling you,” you said quickly to the innkeeper as you passed her, offering a smile as she scoffed.

“Just don’t stop by again, can’t be interacting with the likes of y’all,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

Kirishima snorted, “don’t worry we won’t ever be back.”

“Good, now get goin’,” she said as she turned on her heel and headed back into what you presumed was the kitchen.

The three of you quickly left the inn and made your way towards the main part of downtown. Even though it was early in the morning there were already people beginning to set up little stands for the rodeo later in the day.

You could see where they had a small cakewalk as well as a booth where a local farmer was selling his honey. At the thought of that your tummy rumbled, it’s been a while since you have last eaten, and there were so many baked goods in sight.

“We can’t stop,” Kirishima’s voice cut into your thoughts.

You sighed heavily and nodded, you were here to get the money that was all. It would have been nice to come to the rodeo under different circumstances. However, if things had gone like your father planned so long ago you would have been here and married to Monona. The thought of that made you lose your appetite.

You continued to move forward trying to focus on spotting Monoma or Vlad in the morning crowd. Now that the sun was rising, more and more people started to show up, making it rather crowded, which made it hard to maneuver your horse through the swarm of people.

“We should get off, we’re drawin’ too much attention,” Mina said as a small child reached up to pet her bay horse.

“Yeah, where do we put ‘em though?” you asked, looking around. There were plenty of places to tie a horse off to, but none were good enough, safe enough. If you needed to get away quickly you would have to have the horses close by.

“Can we tie them by the rodeo?” Kirishima asked, ducking his head down as he flipped the collar of his jean jacket up. He was starting to get some attention from a few people walking by.

“That’ll have to do then,” you concluded as you led them towards the outdoor arena where the rodeo was bein’ held. “We’ll stick there for the rest of the day too, till the rodeo starts. Make sure we can see them set everything up.”

“Good plan, I always knew you were smart,” Mina said with a chuckle as she followed behind you.

—----------

The day dragged on slowly, so slowly that you were sure that this day would last forever. At least around noon, some people started to set up the fencing around the arena, and that’s when you caught sight of your former suitor.

Just like on the night you saw him he was dressed all up in white. White hat, white chaps, white shirt. He looked rather ridiculous as you watched him practice his roping on a horse that was probably worth more than your whole house.

After a few painful minutes of watching Monoma poorly ride, he got off and made his way towards Vlad and the mayor of the town. The mayor was a small man, he looked rather young despite his white hair. The mayor actually looked rather mousy to you, but that didn’t matter.

All you cared about was the money that was being exchanged between Vlad and the mayor. Your eyes narrowed, it seemed that Vlad has a pattern for working with political figures.

The three men talked briefly before going their separate ways. That’s when you spotted that Monoama had the envelope of money in his hands.

“Look,” you pointed out, keeping your voice low, “looks like Monoma has the prize money.”

“Well let’s go get it,” Kirishima said as he stood up, but you yanked him back down shaking your head.

“Not yet, we need him to be alone, I don’t know much about these people, but I know they’re dangerous. Practically run this city if they’ve got the mayor in their pocket,” you explained. “Let's wait for him after he shows his horse, then we’ll get him on the way back.”

Both Kirishima and Mina nodded, agreeing with your plan. The three of you made your way to the stables, keeping out of sight until the rodeo started. To be honest, the rodeo was probably the grandest thing you’ve ever seen. Never in your life have you seen so many horses, cows, and cowboys all under one roof.

Which also made keeping hidden a little more dangerous. But you didn’t have to wait for much longer, not when you saw Monoma get on his horse a few feet down from you. It was his turn to ride and a few cowboys close by snickered at him when his horse spooked from the gunshot signaling him to start his run.

Then he was off, barely holding onto the horn of the saddle.

“Okay, Kirishima, you get his horse and lead him back here when he finishes his run,” you quickly explained, hearing the crowd cheer from outside.

“Mina and I will tie ‘em up and then we’ll get the prize money. Let’s hope he kept it on him,” you said, feeling your heart rate pick up. This was the first time you have ever planned something so important, granted, you’ve never been an outlaw before, but it was still nerve-wracking.

However, you were pleasantly surprised that Kirishima and Mina were so intent on listening to you. They never turned their nose up to your ideas and instead followed through. Maybe you were more a part of this group than you thought.

“Here he comes,” Kirishima said, standing up as he placed his hat on his head to help cover his face.

You held your breath as Kirishima promptly got up and weaved his way through the crowd of cowboys. He was easily a head taller than everyone in the room, but thankfully it seemed everyone was preoccupied with the next rider entering the arena.

Kirishima came to a stop next to Monoma’s horse and grabbed the reins by the bit, and began leading Monoma back to you and Mina.

“And who are you?” Monoma’s shrill voice echoed through the holding stalls, “where are you taking me?”

“Back to where you came from,” Kirishima said lowly as he moved Monoma through the crowd and back to you and Mina.

“My stall is back that way,” Monoma snapped, pointing back towards the stalls opposite to you.

Kirishima shrugged, “it moved, you’re over here now.”

You let out a breath as Monoma came to a stop in front of you and it was then you realized that he had his boots tied to the stirrups with some twine. It was almost comical to see how bad of rider Monoma was. You probably didn’t even need to tie him up anymore, he was practically stuck in the saddle until someone cut him out.

“Hold on, I know you,” Monoma said, his gaze dancing between Kirihisma and Mina. Then his eyes landed on you. “You! That girl, that bitch,” he snarled.

“Now that’s not very nice,” Kirishima drawled as he promptly yanked Monoma from the saddle by the back of his shirt, making the blond yelp as he fell to the floor. One of his boots was still stuck in his stirrup.

Monoma was starting to panic. He was flat on his back with a foot stuck in his stirrup and his horse was starting to grow antsy. “The hell do you want?” he said, his voice wavering as he locked eyes with Kirishima. It was hard to forget the guy who had a pistol in his face not too long ago.

“Wanna know where that money is,” you said, looking around briefly to make sure no one was watching what was happening.

“Money?” Monoma said, shaking his head, “I don’t know where any money is.”

“We think you do, saw you take a big wad of cash from your daddy, right?” Mina leered as he placed her boot on his chest, “better speak up or Kirishima will swat your horse and make ‘em run back into the arena, don’t think that’d feel too good, huh?”

Monoma gulped as he looked up at his boot again. Being dragged by his horse was not ideal. “You’ll let me go if I tell you?”

“Of course,” Kirishima said with an empty smile.

Monoma nodded, “okay alright, I got it on me, the old man gave it to me so I could prove myself,” he muttered as he pulled out a wad of cash stuffed into some parchment paper, “it’s three grand. Is that enough, I don’t have anything else,” he said, his voice was heavy with fear.

Kirishima took the money from Monoma and stuffed it into his back pocket, “that’s perfect.” He glanced at you and Mina, flicking his head towards the back of the holding pens where y’all had your horses tied.

“Okay now let me go,” Monoma said, his gaze jumping between the three of you.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kirishima chuckled darkly as he smacked Monoma’s horse on its back, making it squeal as it took off down the gravel, dragging Monoma along with him.

Monoma’s screams gathered everyone’s attention and before you knew it, multiple guys were racing past you to Monoma who was now outside, screaming and shouting about how three outlaws were in the barn.

That was your cue to leave.

In a hurried rush, you ran back to your horse and pulled yourself up into the saddle before kicking him into a gallop.

“Gotta ride fast we’ve got company,” Kirishima shouted over the wind as he weaved in front of you.

You glanced behind you to see some of the cowboys you saw in the barn earlier hot on your tail. They had their ropes out, probably hoping to nab one of y’all, but it was clear they weren’t going to catch up.

You smiled, glancing back over your shoulder again to see that they had slowed down to a stop just as you and the others passed through the far end of the city and back into the open land.

Mina laughed from next to you as she held her cowboy hat so it wouldn’t fly off in the wind. “Those suckers never knew what hit ‘em! Your plan worked Y/n!”

Pride filled your chest as you looked out towards the dark prairie. Your plan did work. No one had gotten hurt, aside from Monoma, but that didn’t matter. You were proud of yourself. It felt like you had finally proved yourself to the others, not that they were ever asking for it, but you felt like it needed to happen.

The horses tore across the plains, kicking up dirt and grass in their wake as you followed Kirishima to his hometown. Your feelings of euphoric adrenaline only seemed to grow as you raced next to Kirishima and Mina.

There’s no better feeling in the world than sitting on top of a horse and letting him run to his heart's content. The night around you blurred as Kirishima let out a yip and right now you felt like you were on top of the world.

After a good while of running, you slowed to a walk, catching your breath as Kirishima led you towards a more barren part of the plains. The dirt started to turn more to dusty sand and a few mesquite trees started to appear around you.

“There’s not much out here,” Mina commented as she squinted into the distance.

Kirishima nodded, “it’s pretty empty, not a lot of people can live out here. It gets better once we get closer to town. There’s a huge lake by our town and an equally large forest. It’s nice there, but here,” he paused, “a lot of people didn’t make it to our town trying to get past these wastelands.”

And they were wastelands. You shivered as you passed the skull of what looked like a bull or a buffalo. It was sun-bleached and was probably home to a smaller animal now.

You rode through the night until dawn. By then you were exhausted and starving, and the sight of the small run-down town up ahead gave you a little more hope to push through. As you got closer to the town, feral dogs raced by you snapping at your horse's legs while you shooed them off.

Some small children dressed in rags, peeked out from behind broken windows as they watched you pass. It seemed like they knew who Kirishima was as a look of awe crossed their features.

The town itself was poorly built, and extremely small. The wood was aged, and splintering from years of being cooked in the hot sun. There were a few markets that had only a few items to offer. Then there was the sheriff’s office, it was just as small and likely didn’t even have a jail cell.

Kirishima stopped his horse, “wait out here, I’ll be back, you two can get us some breakfast. If Koda’s around he’ll give us some biscuits.”

You stayed silent, following Mina towards a small stand where a bald man around your age was whittling a bear out of some wood with a pocket knife.

Upon seeing Mina he set down his knife and gave her a big smile and then his gaze turned to you, he tilted his head, looking confused.

“Oh that’s Y/n, she rides with us now,” Mina explained as she pulled out a few crinkled bills and got off her horse, “you got any of those biscuits?”

Koda nodded, removing his gaze from you as he reached down to grab a small burlap sack and handed it to Mina.

“You’re a doll,” she said as she gave him the money, “we’ll see ya around, kay?”

Koda nodded and returned to whittling his bear, seeming rather happy that he had made a sale.

“Koda’s mute,” Mina explained as you followed her back to the sheriff’s office. “Bakugou says the whole time he’s known him, he’s never talked. No one knows why, but he’s as sweet as they come. Plus, his ma’s a pretty good baker, these biscuits are gold,” she said as she dug her hand into the bag and tossed you one.

You just barely caught it, fumbling the pastry for a moment before you held it steady. It did look good, probably the best biscuit you’ve ever seen, nice and flaky and baked to perfection. While you waited for Kirishima, both you and Mina had a couple of biscuits each, chatting about nothing to pass the time.

Soon Kirishima came back out, waving goodbye to the sheriff who only stuck his hand out of the door to wave goodbye. He got back on his horse, sighing as Mina handed him a biscuit, “got it done.”

As you rode towards Keigo’s estate you were beginning to wonder how in the world Kirishima was able to talk to the sheriff of this town? He was a well known outlaw, so it would make sense that he’d get arrested even if he did grow up here.

“Why did that sheriff let you go, and give you the keys to Keigo’s estate?” you asked, riding up next to Kirishima.

Kirishima lifted a brow as he took a bite of his biscuit, “well,” he began, harshly swallowing his bite, “we give a lot of our money back to this town, the people here need it.” He shrugged, “so the sheriff lets us walk free. Tamaki is a good guy too, despite bein’ a recluse, but he’s good. He knows deep down we’re good too.”

“Well mostly,” Mina added with a small laugh.

Kirishima nodded, looking a little amused, “but he’s always suspected something was wrong with Keigo and all the deaths that surrounded him, so he’s been on board with us catchin’ Keigo. Not like Tamaki was gonna go out after the bastard with guns blazin’.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” you said. You were still a little confused on how they got so lucky avoiding the law with both Izuku and Tamaki, but you supposed that’s probably why they have never gotten caught.

You furrowed your brows, falling back into your thoughts as you continued your ride to Keigo’s estate. The ride there was more than depressing. There were plenty of small shacks and shanties on the road to Keigo’s house, and most of them were abandoned. It made you wonder more about Bakugou’s and Kirishima’s lives when they lived here as kids. It must have been tough, and that made you sad.

Maybe the outlaws you were with weren’t as black and white as you had once thought. After getting to know them better, you’d describe them as gray. They did bad things, but they would do good things in return, like give money back to a poor town that needed money desperately.

Your horse stopped, pulling you out of your thoughts as you looked up. In front of you was a large house, much larger than the one you grew up in. It was painted white with huge double doors and at least twenty windows just on the front of the house.

The house could have been beautiful once in the past, but now it looked worn down and tired. The landscaping in the front was all dead and the weeds had taken over completely, weaving up the wood and past the peeling paint.

To the right of the estate were two smaller houses, obviously hand built, but quaint. Well loved when they were lived in. You assumed these houses belonged to Bakugou’s and Kirishima’s families.

“Kinda spooky,” Mina commented, looking at the many windows that adorned Keigo’s estate.

You nodded in agreement, while Bakugou’s and Kirishima’s houses had a sense of sadness around them, Keigo's house seemed to be full of anger. It made your stomach flip with unease as you looked into one of the dark windows.

“We better start lookin’ for evidence, I know damn well it’s in there,” Kirishima said as he dismounted his horse and tied him to the railing of the stairs leading up to the front door.

You got off two, tying your horse next to Kirishima as you followed him up the stairs. Mina was close behind, muttering under her breath about how she didn’t like the house.

Kirishima pulled out a singular key, it was rusted and barely fit into the keyhole. After a few moments of struggling, he finally got the door open. The hinges creaked in protest as he pulled the double doors wide open.

You wrinkled your nose as the scent of mildew and dust practically slapped you in the face. It was more than obvious that it had been years since anyone has been inside of the house. Still feeling uneasy you followed Kirishima in and then you split up.

Not that you wanted to split up, you felt extremely uneasy being inside of Keigo’s childhood home. You could almost feel the anguish and darkness this house held in its bones as you climbed up the steps.

After some snooping, you came across Keigo’s room. The door was already ajar, and with bated breath you kicked the door open, expecting Keigo to leap out at you, but it was empty.

The room was painted a deep red there was a large bed in the middle of the room. It was broken though, the bedframe the mattress was sitting on was cracked in half, pushing into the wall, leaving a sizable hole in its place.

There were plenty of cobwebs too, many of them hanging from the ceiling and the shelves that held some knick-knacks and toys. You were so caught up in the utter chilling features of Keigo’s room that you missed a large chest in front of you.

You let out a yelp as your shins collided with the wooden chest making you double over. You caught yourself before you face planted into the plush rug that was probably teeming with bugs. With a sigh, you stood back up examining the chest.

It wasn’t covered in much dust, not nearly as much as everything was. Which was odd. Why did this chest not have as much dust on it? You frowned, did that mean Keigo had been back here, did he pull this chest out hoping Bakugou or someone would find it?

There was only one way to find out, and that was to open it. So you did, the chest opened with a groan, and inside was a single journal, bound in black leather.

With a shaky hand, you reached inside and opened it. It belonged to Keigo. It was filled with little notes and some drawings. The pages were stiff and discolored, a few had questionable dark stains on them, you didn’t think about it too much.

You frowned, as you continued to flip through the beginning pages. It was clear that Keigo was a troubled child. Someone who hated his father immensely, and to be honest it sounded like you.

The way that younger Keigo wished he could escape from his home and live with someone else, someone he loved was disheartening. You continued to read that he wished his father would listen to him, how he wanted to go outside and play with the kids in town, but he was stuck inside learning all day.

Which as an adult you were thankful you were given an education, but your mother always made sure you could play, and if she didn’t you made sure you could.

Keigo’s entries got more desperate as he explains how he would watch the hawks outside, swoop and dive in the sky and how he dreamed about being like them so he could fly away from home. There were a few scribbled drawings of some birds on the bottom corners of the page with a hand reaching towards them.

You almost felt sorry for him, no, you did feel sorry for him. His younger life seemed so confining and suffocating. As you read on, something changed. He had written about Bakugou and Kirishima.

At first, he writes wonderful things about them, praising them for being his friends, and for showing him what it was like to be outside, but slowly they turned bitter. He writes how his father favored Bakugou and Kirishima over him.

Your eyes widened as you read about how Keigo tried to get Bakugou and Kirishima in trouble after that so his father would hate them. He killed Kirishima’s dog, poisoned the cows. But nothing worked.

Even though he hated his father he vied for his attention, craved it. The jealousy continued to grow all the way up till Keigo was eighteen. A man now, but his hatred for Bakugou and Kirishima was so intense that he wanted them to rot, to pay for how they took his father away from him, how they were the reason he was locked away as a child. Everything was their fault and he was going to make them pay.

Then on the last page, hastily scribbled down, Keigo admits that he killed his father, did it in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.

“Hey, been lookin’ for ya,” Bakugou’s voice suddenly appeared from behind you.

You screamed, throwing the journal straight up as you turned around to see him staring at you with a shocked expression, “damn you,” you hissed through heavy breaths as you picked the journal up, “scared the shit out of me.”

Bakugou snorted, glancing down at the journal in your hands, “what’s that?”

“Keigo’s journal,” you answered, looking down towards the chest, “I think he was here not too long ago, wanted someone to find it.”

Bakugou hummed and outstretched his hand so he could look at the journal which you gave him.

But at that moment, you realized that Bakugou was in fact in front of you now after almost three days of not seeing him. “You made it back,” you said, your voice small.

“Obviously,” he answered while rolling his eyes as he thumbed through the pages. He stopped, glancing at you to see you standing in front of him with wide eyes.

Without a second thought, you moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him, making him grunt in surprise. You really did miss him more than you thought. “Missed you,” you muttered, a little embarrassed at being vulnerable.

Bakugou chuckled as he returned the hug. He missed you too, a lot. Camping with Sero was not as ideal as camping with you. “Missed ya too, had to put up with Sero for far too long, fuckin’ asshole,” he muttered, thankful that you couldn’t see his pink cheeks.

You hummed, smiling as you pressed yourself closer to him. “Did you find Keigo?” you asked, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Bakugou frowned, “we did, Kaminari and him are camped out about an hour from here.”

You pulled back from him, “sounds like he figured you’d eventually end up here?”

Bakugou nodded, looking back at the journal, “that’s what we thought too.” He paused, reading a bit before looking back at you, “looks like your plan worked though, ‘m proud of you.”

He was proud of you? Your stomach flipped as a large grin grew on your face. “Thank you.”

Bakugou huffed, giving you a crooked smile before returning to the journal. His carefree expression grew more bitter as he read on.

You stood silent watching him read for a bit before he got to the end of the journal. He sighed heavily as he shut the journal and looked at you, he looked sad. You decided to not say anything, and let him speak first.

However, Bakugou, true to his nature, kept silent too. He instead looked around the room, eyeing some old wooden toys and a few literature books that sat untouched on one of the many bookshelves in the room.

“Hey!” Kirishima's voice echoed through the old house, “Sero and Mina found a basement, think y’all should come see it.”

You shared a look with Bakugou, knowing this very well may be the actual evidence he needed to prove that Keigo had killed his and Kirishima’s family once and for all. Keeping quiet again, you followed Bakugou out of the room and down the stairs.

His shoulders were squared and up to his ears again. He must be uncomfortable, and you didn’t blame him. As much as you wanted to go and comfort him, you could tell that he wanted to be alone in his own space.

When you got downstairs you saw Sero standing by a broken door that had stairs leading down to what you could assume was the basement. A basement around these parts was pretty rare, not many buildings had them. You remember asking why the bank had a basement and not your house growing up and your mother told you that the soil was too thin and was full of clay.

Which meant that Keigo’s family really did have a lot of money, more than you probably could even imagine. Your nose wrinkled as you walked down the rotting stairs into the basement. The air felt damp against your skin, and the smell of mildew grew much stronger.

Mina sniffled behind you, suppressing a sneeze as she grabbed your arm. Which you were glad for, it was more than creepy down there. As you reached the bottom of the basement the floorboards moaned and creaked under your steps, sounding like anguished spirits who had been trapped inside of the basement for years.

You wouldn’t have been surprised to find that this place was haunted.

“Let’s go over there,” Mina whispered, giving Bakugou and Kirishima a wide berth as they started to sift through the crates and barrels by a desk.

You nodded, following Mina to the side of the basement where there were two groups of floor to ceiling shelves. There on the shelves were multiple glass jars. They were dusty and Mina wiped one off only to recoil in disgust at a bird carcass stuffed inside and partially preserved in ethanol.

“You think Keigo did that?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet.

You nodded, counting the remaining jars on the shelves. There were about fifty jars, all varying in size. While you did feel sorry for Keigo after reading his journal, your resentment outgrew your pity.

“I think they’re all birds,” Mina added, wiping off another jar with her sleeve to reveal a hawk. “I wonder why he was so obsessed with birds?”

“I think he envied them,” you answered, “he wrote about it in his journal.”

Mina hummed, turning you both away from the shelves as you ventured further into the basement. You stopped at one corner, growing a little more disturbed at the pile of clothes that were shoved into an open hole. They looked like boys' clothes.

“Hey,” Sero’s voice came from behind you. He had practically come out of nowhere.

“Damn,” Mina hissed, holding her hand over her heart, “quiet bastard, what?”

“Bakugou found somethin’,” he said, his voice solemn.

Your heart flipped in your chest as you followed Sero towards the other end of the basement. There you were able to see Bakugou and Kirishima holding onto some clothes.

“This is my ma’s,” Kirishima said, his voice cracking as he ran his hand over the worn dress, it was stained with blood.

Bakugou huffed, throwing the article of clothing he was holding down on the ground, and stormed out of the basement, looking livid. You watched him go, feeling heartsick that someone you cared so much for was hurting.

“Best to let him cool off,” Sero said, following your gaze.

You nodded in agreement, he probably needed some time to himself to mourn. You then turned your attention back to Kirishima who was wiping his eyes as he pulled out a small plaid shirt. It looked like it had belonged to a toddler. It was splattered with blood too.

“Found his weapon also,” Sero said quietly, pointing to a weapon that looked a bit like a broad sword. It was most likely a family heirloom, passed down from generations back.

“Keigo admitted to killing his father in his journal too,” you said quietly, feeling your heart break as you watched Kirishima continue to dig through the clothes of his dead relatives.

Mina left your side, moving towards Kirishima to comfort him.

“Think we should go,” Sero said, as Kirishima let out a quiet cry.

You nodded, following Sero back up the stairs and then out of the house. The two of you remained silent as you built a small campfire in a pasture a good distance away from the house. After a while, Kirishima and Mina came to join you. The four of you sat in silence, trying to process what you had just seen.

It was overwhelming trying to sort through your thoughts. So many things have happened in such a short amount of time, you haven’t really had time to process any of it. You were kidnapped, shot at, fought against soldiers, fought with Bakugou, saw someone die, saw your father die. You gulped not even wanting to try and process all of that at the moment. It was too much to handle.

Time seemed to move fast as you sat and watched the fire flicker in front of you, and before you knew it, the sun was setting again. You blinked, pulling yourself from your thoughts as you looked up. Mina and Sero were quietly chatting to each other as Sero tossed some more firewood into the flames.

Kirishima was sitting against his saddle, staring into the flames with a faraway expression. It then made you realize that Bakugou still hasn’t come back.

You looked over your shoulder to see that his horse was gone which made you wonder he went. Surely he wasn’t far.

“You should go look for him,” Kirishima said, his voice scratchy as he looked up at you from the fire. “He’s been alone for too long.”

You nodded, “any idea where he is?” you asked.

“Probably by the lake,” Kirishima answered and then turned his gaze back to the flames.

The lake? You stood up, walking towards your horse as you tried to figure out where the lake was. Surely close by? You weren’t that good at tracking. With a sigh, you pulled yourself up into the saddle and urged your horse forward.

Despite all of the sadness today had brought, it was a beautiful evening. The sky was big out here, stretching miles and miles and it was decorated with soft pastel clouds. The air was sweet from the summer grasses and fireflies were starting to come out.

You inhaled, rubbing your eyes as your horse trotted up a steep hill, and there in the distance was a silhouette of a man and his horse. He was looking out over the lake, watching the water shimmer as the sun set.

Your horse nickered at his horse when you came to a stop. You dismounted your horse, putting his reins back over the horn of the saddle while he began to graze. If Bakugou heard you, he didn’t turn his head to acknowledge your presence.

The grass was tall here, reaching up to your knees as you waded through, a little frustrated that you were still in your dress from earlier. So much had happened so fast that you didn’t find the time to get changed.

When you finally reached him you sat down, tucking the dress beneath your legs as you stretched out. The view was nice from up here. You could see how large the lake was. After a beat you looked towards him, his eyes were rimmed red, and you knew he had been crying.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft.

Bakugou nodded, “I think so.”

You nodded, looking away from him and back to the lake, “do you want to talk about it? Sometimes that helps,” you offered gently.

Bakugou didn’t answer your question for a while, but then he took a deep breath. “It’s strange after all this time to finally have closure, ya know?” he began, tearing at some of the grass next to him. “For years I thought about this moment, the moment I finally had proof of what Keigo did and I thought I would be prepared. I wasn’t. And I guess you can’t really be prepared for somethin’ like this,” he finished.

“I’m sure, and I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you and Kirishima,” you said truthfully.

Bakugou snorted, “yeah, me too, but I’m sorry for you too, and Mina, Sero, and Izuku. All of us have been put through hell and back because of Keigo.”

You gave him a melancholy smile as you leaned against him, not really sure what to say.

He sighed heavily, as his shoulders relaxed. Bakugou glanced down at you pressed against him and he ran his gaze down your form, just admiring you and how someone who was previously his bounty became someone so close to him. Someone he cared about immensely.

You smiled a bit watching as a few blue herons flew across the surface of the lake, you’ve always thought they were interesting birds. You were about to say something about the lanky birds until you noticed Bakugou's hand was moving towards yours and then he grabbed it gently, intertwining your fingers together.

Your heart practically leaped into your throat as he squeezed your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You were practically stupid with joy as he looked towards you with a soft expression.

“My family would have liked you,” he began as he kept his gaze focused on your hand in his. “Despite you bein’ stubborn as hell.”

You laughed, “you think so?”

He nodded as he stood up, taking you with him, “I do.” He began leading you back towards the horses and then he dropped your hand to get up on his horse, “I wanna show you somethin’.”

You held back another smile as you got up on your horse, following him down the hill and towards the small houses near Keigo’s estate. In the distance, you could see the fire where the others were camped out.

After a few short moments, you came to a stop outside of a small cabin. It was probably only one room and was definitely made by hand. The logs were sturdy though, made out of hardwood. Bakugou held out his hand again and you took it as he brought you towards his house.

You kept quiet as he opened the door. The inside was how you expected, it was one big room. There was one wood burning stove in the back of the room, and a cast iron pot still sat on the burner. In the middle of the room was the kitchen table, a large slab of wood that had been sanded down and polished.

Four chairs were seated around the table, they were pushed out and it almost seemed like people were still living in the house. You could see an apron folded neatly on one of the chairs and there were a few bowls out.

In the far corner of the house were two beds both around the same size, and probably the most expensive item in the house.

“I know it’s not much,” Bakugou began, his voice catching a bit as he cleared his throat, “but it’s the best home I’ve ever known.”

“I think it’s great,” you said with a small smile.

Bakugou snorted, “hah, don’t need to lie princess, your home could hold five of mine.”

You shook your head, “I know, but I can tell this home was well loved and the people in it were too, which is worth more than any large house.”

Bakugou nodded, mulling over your comment as he looked around his old home for one last time. He could still see flashes of memories here and there, but it’s been so long it was hard to remember his old life sometimes. It was time to go though, and he needed to put the memories to rest. He nodded, mostly to himself as he opened the door again, not looking back as he shut the door behind him.

“Where are we going?” you asked as he pulled you behind him, rather harshly making you stumble as he muttered an apology.

“Back to camp,” he said as he let go of your hand and got back on his horse, watching you get back on to yours rather awkwardly.

You frowned, yanking at the dress as you straddled the saddle. It wasn’t very practical to ride in a dress really. You watched as Bakugou moved in front of you leading you past his house and up the hill again. The sun had now set leaving the sky a deep purple.

After a short moment, you realize he’s leading you away from camp and towards the woods. “Where are we going? Camps back that way,” you said looking over your shoulder to see the fire where the camp was growing smaller in the distance.

“Goin’ somewhere else,” Bakugou said as he ducked under a branch.

You ducked too, barely missing the thick branch of the oak tree you just passed. The woods were thick here, and as the light faded you had to rely on your horse to follow Bakugou. After a good while of riding, you stopped by a cove that was tucked away from the lake. There was a small waterfall at the base of the creek, bubbling softly as water trickled over the rocks.

You noticed where he had stopped was a small clearing, the trees had been cut just leaving a bit of grass along with an old stack of firewood that had probably been there for years.

“I used to come here with Kirishima to catch frogs,” Bakugou said, sounding a little embarrassed, “I wanted you to see it too,” he added as he got off his horse.

Even though it was dark you could tell it was a beautiful area, especially with all the native wildflowers that were growing near the edge of the clearing. “I used to catch frogs too, nothin’ to be embarrassed about,'' you teased, making him snort as he collected firewood.

“Bet you were shit at it,” he said as he grabbed his saddlebag and pulled out some flint and steel.

You narrowed your eyes as you dismounted your horse, hauling your bedroll off too. You had finally gotten yourself your own blanket. It was a quilt that you found stuffed away in your closet, and you couldn’t leave it behind. “I was really good at it,” you countered as you rolled out your quilt and grabbed your riding clothes you were planning on changing into.

“Whatever,” Bakugou grumbled, flashing you a quick smile as blew on the budding fire. He sat down after the fire grew to a reasonable size and looked up at you, “c’mere,” he said, looking at the empty space next to him.

Your eyes widened slightly as you set down your clothes and made your way over to him. For some odd reason, you were rather nervous to sit next to him, it was a good kind of nervous though.

Bakugou leaned back watching as you sat next to him and stretched out, the dress you were wearing bunched up past your knees. He pulled his gaze back up to the fire.

You fell into a comfortable silence, but you felt like something was going on that you were not aware of. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel Bakugou staring at you every once and awhile. Somethin’ was up with him, and you weren’t sure what to think about it. “You’re actin’ weird,” you finally said, looking at him at last only to see that his cheeks were pink.

He cleared his throat, “the hell you talkin’ about?”

You furrowed your brows, “you’re embarrassed, your cheeks are all pink,” you said, bringing a hand up to poke one of his cheeks, making him grumble as he swatted your hand away.

“‘M not embarrassed,” he argued, “I just-” he sighed, cursing under his breath.

You listened for a moment, hearing him curse out Sero for bad advice, and it made you remember what Mina and Kirishima laughed about on your way to the rodeo.

“-Can I kiss you?” Bakugou finally said, refusing to look you in the eyes.

You froze, he wanted to kiss you? The last time he did that he ran away. You knew now was different, but you couldn’t help but feel more nervous than before. After a moment you nodded and felt your heart leap into your throat when moved into your space.

You watched with bated breath as his vermillion gaze flickered down to your lips and then back to your eyes. He placed a hand on the side of your face, cradling your cheek as he tilted his head and pressed his lips against yours.

This time he kissed you differently than the first time, he was gentle and meaningful. Like he was trying to let you know how he felt through the kiss.

You shut your eyes, bringing your hands up around his neck, branching your fingers up into his soft hair. He let out a groan, making you freeze up which gave him the opportunity to tug you closer to him with his free hand.

You broke away panting as he practically planted you on his lap and nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. This was all so new to you, and taboo at that. All your life you’ve been told to wait till marriage, it was sinful and such. Yet here you were, straddling Bakugou as he pressed kisses onto the side of your neck.

You felt nervous suddenly, as you placed your hands on his chest, making him pull back. He looked at you through lidded eyes, there was a heavy blush painted across his cheeks. “Katsuki,” you whispered, your eyes searching his, “I’m scared, I’ve never done anything like this before,” you explained, keeping your voice quiet as you looked away from him.

Bakugou hummed, it was a deep rumble that resonated from his chest, and he grabbed your chin turning your head back towards him, “you don’t have to be scared with me, I’ll take good care of ya,” he said, his voice low.

You shivered, making his lips twitch up a bit. “But Mina said you nothin’ about nothin’,” you said, looking away from him.

Bakugou huffed, clearly annoyed, “of course she did.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling even more nervous now or were you embarrassed? You weren’t sure.

“Hey,” he said softly, loosening his grip on your chin to run his knuckles down the side of your cheek gently. “We don’t have to do anythin’, princess if you’re uncomfortable. I’m not gonna be mad if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You blinked, mulling over his words. Your nerves were frayed but you wanted to be with him, you weren’t too sure what that meant for you, but you trusted him with your life. You could trust him with this. “I do though, I wanna be with you,” you said quietly, looking back at him shyly.

Bakugou hummed looking up at you, part of his face was illuminated by the fire light as he nodded, “okay, just relax, pretty girl,” he said quietly, as he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

You curled your fingers into his hair, tugging a little as he ran his hand down your side before stopping at your lower back. He then pressed on your lower back lightly urging you to grind down on his lap.

You huffed placing your face into the crook of his neck, as you started to rock your hips against the front of his jeans, and a soft whine escaped your lips.

“There ya go,” he murmured, starting to breathe heavily.

You gripped the back of his jacket, as he bucked his hips up. Bakugou let out a groan from beneath you making a tingle of electricity zap down your spine at the sound of his voice.

And it made you realize you wanted to hear him again, hear him moan and writhe above you. Your heartbeat quickened as you sucked in a breath when he gently moved you both down on his blanket.

You looked up at him through lidded eyes as he hovered above you. His pupils were blown as he leaned down to kiss you again, more roughly this time. You let out a whimper when he nipped at your lip, which gave him the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

Everything was starting to become overwhelming as you squirmed beneath him. His hands were all over your sides, yanking at your dress, pushing it above your hips. You involuntarily arched up into him, letting out a moan when he cupped your clothed pussy in one hand, nudging your clit through the fabric with his middle finger.

You broke away from the kiss again, panting as you grabbed onto his shoulders, “Kats,” you breathed out, your breath hitching as he lightly rubbed small circles over your clit.

Bakugou grinned, “feelin’ good?”

You nodded, now grabbing at his forearm when he ran his finger down over your clothed slit. “What’re you doing?” you slurred, watching him hook his fingers into the side of your panties and tug them down over your thighs.

“Relax,” he repeated, now running his finger between your folds, and watching your arousal coat his finger as he looked back at you. Your chest was heaving with each breath you took, and he didn’t miss the way your legs would shake every time he would run his finger through your slit.

“Katsuki,” you said aloud as he moved down, pressing kisses against your collar bone, your stomach, and then the top of your thighs. You bit the inside of your cheek as he blew warm air on your pussy, making you squirm.

“Said I was gonna take care of ya, didn’t I?” he finally said, suppressing a groan when he spread your legs more, watching strings of arousal coat your thighs.

You nearly lost it watching him lay down on his stomach and wrap his arms around your thighs, yanking you towards his face. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh, lightly biting down on the soft skin there before turning his attention back to your pussy.

“Oh,” you whimpered out as he ran the flat of his tongue up against your slit, making you immediately lock your legs around his head as a strange sensation settled in the pit of your tummy.

Bakugou chuckled as he squeezed your thighs tightly, leaving small crescents in your skin from his nails. He loved seeing you come undone when he’s barely touched you. He wanted to ruin you in the best way possible, make you his over and over again.

You unknowingly placed your arm over your eyes as your hips rolled up into his mouth. He’s barely moved his tongue and you were already a mess, babbling out nonsense. Especially when he moved his attention up to your clit, licking at it and sucking it into his mouth.

“Good girl,” he muttered against your pussy as you rolled your hips again, “so good for me.”

You nodded, unable to form words as a funny feeling started to build in your tummy. It had all your muscles tensing and releasing as he continued to suck on your clit.

Bakugou looked up from your pussy to watch you throw your head back and moan. “Fuck, you look so good,” he groaned before sucking your clit again.

You keened arching your back at his praise as another wave of pleasure rolled over. “Feel strange,” you panted out, as the rhythm of your grinding hips began to stutter.

Bakugou hummed, tugging you closer to him if that was even possible.

“Katsuki, I,” you tried to begin but the coil that was twisting inside of your tummy finally burst. The feeling that washed over you couldn’t even be described with words. But it made you shake against him, a cry escaping your lips as he continued to lick and suck through your high.

He kissed your clit before pulling away and moving back up so he could kiss you again. You were still writhing against him, yanking at his jacket as he slipped out of it, tossing it to the side. A warbled whine escaped your lips when he pulled back away from you to yank off his shirt.

“Fuckin’ needy,” he said, shaking his head as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, still tasting your release on his lips.

“Wanna make you feel good too,” you said shyly, as you watched the fire light dance against the outline of his muscles.

Bakugou smirked, as he easily yanked your dress over your head, his eyes trailing down your body, stopping at the love bites he left on your skin. With a shaky sigh, he moved over you again, holding himself above you with one arm as he ran his other hand up your side. “You sure?” he asked, he wanted tonight to be about you, but how could he say no to you now, when you were looking so sweet under him.

“‘M sure,” you said, sighing softly as he rolled one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He hummed, moving his hand away from your chest and up your neck before stopping by your mouth, “gonna have to teach you then,” he said slowly as he grabbed your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You nodded, getting the idea that he wanted you to open your mouth, so you parted your lips as he placed the pad of his thumb on your tongue.

Bakugou's pupils were blown wide as he watched you close your lips around his thumb. “That’s it,” he muttered as he let out a soft sigh when you wrapped your legs around his hips. “Go ahead and use your tongue,” he said.

You swirled your tongue around his thumb, whimpering when he rolled his hips against yours.

“Good girl,” he muttered, as he pushed another finger into your mouth. “Keep doin’ that, and no teeth,” he said, watching you closely as he pressed another finger in your mouth and moved them back towards your throat.

You whimpered, trying to not gag on his fingers, looking up at him with a concerned expression. Were you doing this right? You must be because he was grinding against you even more now.

When he grinned at you, you nearly fell apart again. “Think you’re ready,” he muttered, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

You watched with wide eyes as he quickly got rid of the rest of his clothes. You were in awe seeing him up close this time, he was beautiful. And he was yours now. A slight tap on your cheek gathered your attention and you realized you were staring off again.

“You and that fuckin’ starin’ problem,” Bakugou snorted as he ran his hand covered in your spit over his dick.

Then you really realized what you were looking at now and you let out a whimper, there was no way he would fit. Especially not in your mouth, but you still moved forward sitting in front of him and running your hands up his thighs.

You held your breath as your fingers branched up his lower stomach and you grabbed his dick in your hand, pumping it slowly like you saw him doing, “Is this good Katsuki?” you ask, staring up at him.

He was breathing hard through his nose with his teeth bared as he nodded, “yeah baby, you’re doin’ good.”

He was hot in your hand, and so wet, the noise that your palm would make against his skin was obscene. With a soft sigh, you tore your eyes away from him and back to his dick, watching pre leak from the top. You hovered your lips above the tip, trying to decide the best way to start.

“Spit on it,” Bakugou growled out, placing a large hand on your head, and driving his fingers into your hair.

You looked up at him again as you dropped a glob of spit on the top, and then ran your tongue up the side of his dick.

“Shit,” Bakugou grumbled, his voice deepening to a low rumble. Not like you knew it, but you were teasing the hell out of him, and it was taking everything in him not to fuck your face.

You squirmed at his voice, feeling your body tingle with need again. After a moment you parted your lips and let him push into your mouth. He was big and it didn’t take long for the head of his dick to press against the back of your throat, making your eyes water.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, gripping your hair tighter between his fingers.

You blinked, tears streaming down your face as you pressed the flat of your tongue against the underside of his dick, and began sucking hard. Your nails dug into his thighs, as he started to buck his hips into your mouth.

“There ya go, just like that, doin’ so good,” Bakugou praised, using his free hand to wipe some of your tears away.

You sniffled trying your best to keep going, you wanted to see him come undone above you. There was nothing more in the world that you wanted right now.

Bakugou tipped his head back, letting out another grunt as he picked up the pace. He didn’t want to cum yet, but you felt so good it was hard not to.

He thrusted into your mouth hard, making your eyes screw shut as he pushed the rest of his length into your mouth. Your nose was pressed against his pelvis as you tried to control your breathing while he shook above you.

“Shit,” he snarled, “gonna fuckin’ cum.”

Bakugou’s hips stuttered and you almost choked when he came in your mouth.

“Swallow it,” he hissed, watching you as he rode out his high.

You did, pulling off of him with a pant as you ran your tongue over your bottom lip. “Did I do a good job?” you asked as he moved back down in front of you.

He grinned, “fuckin’ perfect.”

Bakugou then kissed you long and hard, swirling his tongue with yours as you tasted yourself on his tongue and he and on yours. At this point, you were almost completely fucked out.

“Holdin’ up okay, baby?” He muttered against your lips, smiling when you nodded and ran your hands down his built chest.

“Want you Katsuki,” you said your voice tapering off into a whine

“Think you can handle it?” He asked reaching down to run the head of his dick between your folds.

You nodded, biting your lip hard as he continued to rut against you. “Please,” you begged quietly as your hole clamped down on nothing.

“Sweet thing, so good for me, always so good,” he muttered as he pushed into you slowly, and let out a grunt when he bottomed out, “fuck, you’re fuckin’ tight, princess.”

You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes as you squirmed against him trying to escape the sudden pain from him stretching you, “hurts,” you muttered through quick pants.

“I know,” he cooed, “it’ll feel good soon,” he let out a broken moan, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stayed still for a moment letting you adjust to his size before he started to move. Bakugou thrusted forward, fucking you with deep slow strokes which made you whimper and whine against his form.

Every time he pulled his hips back and then pushed back into you, you would mutter something incoherent in his ear, how good you felt, how big he was, and then you let something slip, you weren’t even aware you did, but he heard it.

“Shit, princess,” Bakugou groaned, as he held your face in his hands, watching you come undone beneath him. “Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered as he picked up his pace, now slamming his hips into yours.

You clawed at his back, your nails leaving raised red trails down his honey-tanned skin as he rolled his hips again. He kept hitting a spot inside of you that had you nearly blackout every time the head of his dick would press into it.

“‘M gonna cum,” you hissed, your eyes rolling back as he brought one hand down to start circling your clit with his fingers.

“Yeah? Go on baby,” Bakugou muttered, kissing your lips before moving down to your jaw, “cum for me.”

Your vision blacked out as you shook beneath him crying out as you clung to his form. His thrusts were growing sloppy now, he could barely hold himself back as he helped you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” he growled, now biting at the skin on your neck roughly as he neared his climax, “gonna fill you up, make you mine,” he hissed as he ground his hips against yours. “Fuckin’ love you too,” he grunted before stilling.

You both let out a groan at the feeling of him cumming inside of you.

You opened your eyes after a moment of coming down from your high to see Bakugou panting above you, and you realized at that moment what he had just said to you.

He said he loved you too.

“You love me?” You whispered, your voice hoarse as he let more of his weight rest on you.

Bakugou nodded, wiping some more tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, “I do.”

Your face warmed and you couldn’t help but smile at him, “I love you too.”

“I know, you told me first,” he said, rolling his eyes as he pulled out with a soft sigh.

You hummed, looking up at the night sky. It was true though, you did feel that strongly about him, “I meant it,” you said suddenly.

Bakugou snorted, “I know, I did too.” He wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him.

You smiled, looking up into his eyes as he ran his fingers down your side. It was warm out tonight, or maybe you just felt warm being with him. Your smile slipped from your face as you thought about tomorrow. Tomorrow you would be luring Keigo back to his estate to have him arrested.

So many things could go wrong, and you looked away from Bakugou, focusing on his hand on your side. He pulled you close to him again, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. He sighed, his breath puffing against your skin.

He had fallen asleep. You sighed, grabbing his hand to intertwine your fingers together as you shut your eyes letting sleep wash over you too.

—--------

The next morning you both were up early, getting ready to plan for the day. Plan for Keigo. You finished up washing yourself in the lake and then tugged your jeans and shirt on. You could see Bakugou in the distance already getting ready to ride off.

You wiped your face once more as you pulled your boots on before walking over to Bakugou. He was tacking his horse up. “Do you know what you’re gonna do? With Keigo I mean?” you asked, as you put your saddle on your horse.

Bakugou looked over at you, “I’m thinkin’ you and I will confront Kaminari and Keigo, draw them back because they hate us the most,” he said with a forced smile. “Then Mina and Sero would follow up behind, make sure they don’t run away.”

You grimaced, hating that you would have to see Keigo again as well as Kaminari. You were so close to the end now too, and so many things could go wrong.

“Don’t worry princess,” Bakugou said softly as he came to your side, drawing you close, “this is the last time you’ll ever be seein’ either of them.”

You smiled, it was small, but at least you felt a little more hopeful.

“Let’s get goin’,” Bakugou said, shaking the last of the water from his hair as he put his hat on.

You nodded, keeping to yourself as you got on your horse, riding behind Bakugou. He was confident, more so than usual. Or maybe he was happy. You rode up next to him as you both trotted up the hill you found him on last night.

You glanced at him again, he was happy. There was a smile gracing his features when there used to be a scowl. But that made you happy, You smiled as you continued to watch him.

It didn’t take much longer for you to reach the camp the others were staying at. They were already ready too it seemed. All three of them were already on their horses.

“Morning,” Sero said languidly, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he looked between you and Bakugou.

Your face warmed as you saw Mina and Kirishima snicker to each other. It seemed that they were well aware of what happened between you and Bakugou last night.

“Keep your fuckin’ traps shut,” Bakugou quickly snapped as Mina and Kirishima started to move towards you to ask questions.

You gave him a thankful smile which he returned before looking back at his group, “Kirishima, you’re goin’ to the sheriff’s office to get Tamaki right?”

Kirishima nodded, “yeah that’s the plan.”

Bakugou nodded, “give Y/n your pistol then, she’ll probably need it.”

Kirishima handed you his pistol, and you carefully placed it in your waistband, hoping that you wouldn’t have to use it. “You don’t think I’ll need this right?” you asked, looking towards Bakugou.

He shook his head, “No, we’ll stay far enough ahead of Keigo and Kaminari that you won’t need it. It’s just a precaution.”

You nodded, glancing down at the pistol again, you had that same bad feeling settling deep in your tummy. But you pushed it away, maybe this time you were wrong. Everything would work out fine.

“We’ll follow up behind them right?” Mina asked, pushing some hair out of her eyes as she adjusted her hat.

Bakugou nodded, glancing at everyone before he spoke again, “alright, let’s head out then.”

You waved bye to Kirishima as you fell into line behind Bakugou. The ride was about an hour away at a walk and probably thirty minutes back at a run. Which meant this could be over in an hour and a half.

Bakugou was a good deal ahead of you and Mina, chatting with Sero about plans you presumed. Which was fine, you didn’t think you could even talk at the moment, you were so nervous.

The ride itself to where Keigo and Kaminari were camped out was starting to stress you out too. The terrain was quickly changing from grasslands to rocky hills with tight curves. Which meant riding fast around the bends could be dangerous. It could be fatal.

You gulped glancing down at the ravine you were passing. Small stones tumbled down the side, splashing into the river below. Above you vultures started to circle in the distance and an ominous feeling seemed to creep through the air the closer you got.

The hour seemed to pass rather quickly and before you knew it you came to a stop outside of Keigo and Kaminari’s camp. They were camped on the edge of a large cliff. You could see them talking, occasionally laughing as they cleaned their pistols.

Seeing Keigo now after reading his journal and seeing what he had done to Kirishima and Bakugou’s family, what he did to Tokoyami and your father was strange. You were so angry knowing he got away with it for so long, but at the same time, you also felt sorry for him.

He was only a few years older than you and Bakugou, around his late twenties you guess, but as you watched him laugh you saw him as a boy.

“Why are you lookin’ at him like that?” Bakugou said quietly, glancing between you and Keigo.

You shrugged, deciding not to tell Bakugou your thoughts. You figured it would make him upset and rightfully so. You were upset for even allowing yourself to feel the smallest bit sorry for him.

Bakugou huffed, tearing his gaze away from you. He knew you weren’t going to tell him, but he figured you had your reasons. “Sero, Mina, go around back, fire a shot when you’re ready,” he said.

Sero nodded moving forward and down the cliffside with Mina following behind.

You watched them disappear around the corner, chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for a gunshot.

“Hey,” Bakugou began, watching you fiddle with your reins, “stop worrin’ so much, it’ll be fine.”

You nodded, “I know, he just scares me,” you said looking at Keigo again. You sighed, “and I was lookin’ at him like that because he kind of reminds me of a lost kid.”

“A lost kid? You fuckin’ joking?” Bakugou said, his voice holding a twinge of anger to it.

You winced, “I know it sounds bad, really, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinkin’ about what he wrote about in his journal when he was a kid. He just wanted to be loved and be free, and it reminded me of myself,” you said, hoping Bakugou would understand.

Bakugou huffed, settling his temper. He’s always been known to be quick to anger. But he understood where you were coming from. “I know,” he said, “he had a pretty shit life in that house. No one even knew about it, I didn’t until reading that journal.”

You nodded, “I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizin’ you can’t help the way you feel,” Bakugou said, “nothing’s ever as black and white as we make it out to be.”

You blinked, finding it interesting that he said what you thought about him and the others. “Yeah, I know.”

Bakugou moved his horse over next to yours and surprisingly held out his hand for you to take. “Just get out of your head, yeah?” he said, his voice softening a bit.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his, feeling some of your nerves settle. However, at the sound of a gunshot, your heart rate skyrocketed, and you looked towards Bakugou with wide eyes. He gave our hand a squeeze before he let go, grabbing his pistol as he moved forward. “Go ahead, want you to have a head start-”

“No way!” you snapped, “I’m stayin’ by you.”

“Fine,” Bakugou said through gritted teeth as he moved his horse forward so Keigo could see him.

You scowled watching Keigo and Kaminari quickly get up on their horses and start to ride towards you. Keigo was fast, yanking out his pistol with a wicked smile crossing his features.

“C’mon,” Bakugou said hurriedly as he turned his horse around, waiting for you to go so he could follow.

You gulped, bringing your horse to a trot as you made your way through the cliff, not daring to look down. Keigo yelled something behind you, which made you realize he wasn’t too far away.

“Gotta be a little faster, Y/n,” Bakugou said, growing worried, “Red’s got ya, he’s a sturdy horse,” he said, trying to urge you to ride faster.

“Okay,” you choked out, pressing your heels to your horse's sides as he quickened his trot. You could see the grass just a little bit away, you were so close, and when you reached the prairie you let out a sigh, uring your horse into a gallop.

Bakugou rode next to you, glancing over his shoulder to see Keigo and Kaminari hot on your tails, “shit,” he hissed as he yanked out his pistol and pointed it towards Kaminari.

You winced watching as Bakugou just barely missed Kaminari who laughed. “Where are Sero and Mina, shouldn’t they be close by?”

Bakugou shook his head, “dunno, they should be right behind them.” He scowled, kicking his horses' sides as Keigo began to catch up to you. Keigo was the fastest rider he’s ever met, besides you, and for a moment he didn’t think his plan would work.

A bullet flew past your face making you yelp while you flinched hard. “They’re getting close,” you said, shouting over the wind.

“I know,” Bakugou replied, trying to think of something.

There in the distance, you could see Sero and Mina riding back towards you, but they were only one horse, Sero’s horse. Something must have happened to Mina’s horse. And to your horror you saw Kaminari look over his shoulder and then turn around, racing back towards Sero and Mina.

It was obvious what he was planning on doing. Sero and Mina even though they both were armed, but they were slow, extremely slow now that they were sharing a horse. Kaminari probably figured he could take two birds out with one stone.

“Y/n,” Bakugou warned, turning his head to watch you look back at the other, “don’t do it, they’re fine-”

A loud squeal and a gunshot had your eyes wide with fear as Kaminari shot down Sero’s horse, causing both him and Mina to tumble to the ground.

“Ride fast, don’t let Keigo catch up to you,” you said quickly before Bakugou could yell at you as you turned around racing back towards your friends.

Time seemed to slow down as you passed by Keigo. You both locked eyes and he grinned, laughing as you raced past him. You turned your head, seeing that Bakugou was still riding back towards the estate which was good.

You turned your attention back to Kaminari watching him yank on his horse's mouth, getting her to slide to a stop. He pulled out his pistol, saying a few words as he pointed it at Sero who was standing in front of Mina. She was hurt, cradling her arm to her chest.

You pulled out Kirishima’s pistol letting your reins drop as you held it with two hands, aiming at Kaminari, and then you pulled the trigger. In the time that you took to blink your bullet found its way into Kaminari’s side, throwing him off the top of his horse.

With one hand you grabbed your reins moving your horse towards Kaminari and you hoped that he wouldn’t get back up. Sero quickly grabbed Kaminari’s horse by the reins and got on before helping Mina up.

They wasted no time riding up to you.

“Always said you were a good shot,” Mina said hoarsely, giving you a weak smile.

You grinned, trying to not shake in your saddle from nerves. “I did have a good teacher.”

Sero scoffed, wiping some blood away from his face, “thank you, we would have been done for if you didn’t turn back around. Mina’s horse got bit by a snake and threw her, lost her pistol and everything.”

You frowned about to tell Mina you were so sorry, but then something strange happened. You weren’t too sure why it took you so long to register what was going on, but Sero shouted something and turned around firing his pistol off again.

You turned, seeing Kaminari crumple to the ground this time gone for good. You looked back at Sero and then a searing pain bloomed at the side of your arm, and you looked down to see that it was limp beside you.

“Y/n!” Sero shouted, grabbing your reins in his hands, “shit, Mina can you tell me how bad it is, I can’t keep lookin’ at her.”

Your leg smashed up against Sero’s and Mina’s as your horses ran directly next to each other and you winched when Mina grabbed your arm.

“Went through clean,” she said, her voice sounding muffled, “you’ll be okay, just hold on.”

You looked down seeing scarlet red blood soak into your shirt and drip down your arm at a steady rate. A feeling of dread washed over you, “Mina,” you hissed, as the gunshot wound thumped in time with your heartbeat.

“You’ll be okay,” she reassured you, holding your hand the best she could.

You nodded, if Bakugou and Izuku survived a gunshot you could too. It would be fine, you’d be fine. However, as someone who has never had to deal with such severe wounds ever, the sight of so much blood, your blood had you slumping forward.

“Don’t fall off,” Sero growled, reaching over to roughly shake you.

You blinked, trying to push the black spots out of your vision as your stomach flopped. “I won’t,” you slurred, gripping onto the horn of the saddle as you tried to stay awake.

Up in the distance, you could see Keigo’s estate, it looked small now but you’d be there soon if you could just hold on.

You swallowed harshly, feeling yourself tip forward again, which was not good. You knew this would make you unbalanced in your saddle, and then you’d fall off, probably hurting yourself more.

Sero reached over again, yanking the back of your shirt to pull you back again. “Fuckin’ Kaminari,” he muttered glancing behind him to see Mina barely holding it together too. The tumble she took off her horse and then his horse was enough to put anyone under.

You managed to hold on though, just in time too, because when your horse and Sero’s came to a stop in front of the house both you and Mina fell off. You hit the ground harshly, groaning a bit. You did feel better on the ground now though. It was steady and soothed your growing nausea.

You heard shouting and then someone was dragging you across the grass as best they could.

“I-I’m sorry,” a voice stuttered above you, “I didn’t know where you were shot, didn’t want to pick you up.”

“S’kay,” you slurred blinked as the person above you came into focus. It was a man. He was looking down at you with wide eyes as he began to put pressure on your wound.

“Katsuki?” you asked, not bothering to look around.

“Kirishima and him just took Keigo right when you came back,” he explained as he tore some gauze off with his teeth, “he’s being put in a holdin’ cell back at the office.”

The office? You blinked, “are you, Tamaki?”

Tamaki nodded, his face was bright red, “Y-yeah, um, you’ll be okay, the bullet went clean through. Uh, stay here, I have to check on Mina.”

You snorted, it’s not like you were going anywhere any time soon. The sun was bright above you, making you squint as you realized it was over. Everyone was still alive. You were still alive.

You sighed, grabbing at the grass with your good hand as your adrenaline started to slow, allowing you to feel the pain of your wound more. It hurt like hell, stinging like a thousand wasps had stuck their stingers into your arm.

Hoofbeats vibrated the ground next to you and you turned your head to see Bakugou’s horse stop in front of you. A moment later he was hovering above you, eyes wide as he stared at all the blood soaking into your shirt.

You smiled at him, still delirious from the pain, “you got him.”

Bakugou nodded, swallowing thickly as he inspected your arm. His words were stuck in his throat like glue. He had heard three gunshots while he was leading Keigo back to the estate and he had hoped nothing had happened to you. Yet here you were, the person he cared about most, hurt.

If Kaminari wasn’t already dead, Bakugou would have vowed to make him hurt.

“You’re crying,” you whispered, watching his bottom lip wobble as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Don’t do that again,” Bakugou harshly whispered, gently pulling you up against him.

The world spun at your sudden change of position, but you pushed through at the feeling of Bakugou pressing his face into your shoulder. He shuddered against you. “It’s okay,” you said as you leaned your cheek against the side of his head, “gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he muttered, sniffling as he ran his hand up and down your back. “I thought I had lost you, all I saw was you lyin’ in the grass and covered in blood.”

You figured some of his tears were because things were finally over. At last, after years of chasing after Keigo, he had finally got him. “I already told you before that I’ll always come back to you,” you said, letting your eyes close.

“And you always do,” he replied softly, feeling you slump against him. With a shaky hand, he pressed his fingers to your pulse point, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the steady beat of your heart beneath the pads of his fingers.

——-

You woke up the next morning still feeling pretty bad, but you were glad to be alive really. Even though everyone said you’d be fine, it was still nerve-wracking to look down and see your arm so badly injured.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you followed Bakugou and Kirishima to the sheriff's office. Apparently, while you were out Tamaki had ridden down to your town to bring Izuku back as another witness to Keigo's crimes.

You are also surprised to find out that Keigo’s Lieutenant, Endeavor, was headed your way too. Izuku had written to him before leaving the hospital that Keigo was going to be sentenced for his crimes.

You were still missing some details on how everything fell together so neatly at the end, but you weren’t complaining.

Bakugou stopped in front of you, hesitating at the door. He looked nervous. “He’s in there,” Bakugou began, glancing back at you, “he’s gonna try like hell to lie his way out of it.”

“Well he can’t,” you told Bakugou, moving to stand next to him, “there’s so much evidence stacked up against him, Katsuki.”

He nodded, taking a quick breath before walking into the office.

Tamaki’s office was small. Incredibly small. There was one single desk with a looming stack of papers, and then the holding cell was right off to the side. It was dark, only a few slots of light illuminated the corner of the office.

It was quiet, except for Keigo’s harsh breathing. It was ragged and slow, and it sounded like he was in pain.

You stayed mostly behind Bakugou as he walked over to the cell, not wishing to see Keigo at all.

“Came to have a look, huh?” Keigo rasped, pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“Shut up,” Bakugou hissed, dropping his hand to his holster around his waist. It was clearly taking everything in him not to end Keigo right there and then.

Keigo laughed, it was wet and turned into a gasping cough, “not so nice, I guess.” He peered around Bakugou and Kirishima, and locked eyes with you. A smile grew on his face, exposing his blood-stained teeth. “I’m surprised to see you here,” Keigo commented.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at her,” Bakugou said sharply, as he rattled the iron bars making Keigo flinch back, “I want you to look at Eijirou and I, and tell us why you killed them.”

Kirishima nodded, barely keeping himself under control as he watched Keigo in the cell.

Keigo narrowed his eyes, choosing to keep his mouth shut as he looked away from Bakugou and to the ceiling.

“Fuck you,” Bakugou growled, “I should just put a bullet in your head and be done with it.”

You quickly grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “it’s not worth it, he’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him.”

Bakugou flashed a glare at you before sighing. He opened his mouth to say something but the door opened.

You turned your gaze to see Izuku and Tamaki duck through the front door, followed by Endeavor. A jolt of panic coursed up your spine at the sight of the Lieutenant, and you tugged on Bakugou’s sleeve.

“Where is he?” Endeavor’s deep voice echoed in the small office.

“In the cell,” Izuku said and came to a stop next to you and Bakugou, “I’m asking you to let these three go after this, and I’m sure you’ll find that Y/n has been innocent this whole time.”

Endeavor’s turquoise gaze cut between you and Bakugou and his upper lip lifted up into a sneer at the sight of the outlaws in front of him, “the girl I can let go if she proves to be innocent, but Bakugou and Kirishima, I’ll give you both a thirty minute head start and if I find y’all again, I’m putting a bullet between both of your eyes.”

Bakugou snorted, rolling his eyes, “you can try, old man.”

Kirishima stayed silent, not even sparing Endeavor a glance.

Soon all six of you were standing in front of Keigo’s cell. He was laughing again, wiping his mouth occasionally. “You even called Endeavor down? We know that’s a waste of time.”

Endeavor folded his arms over his chest, looking down at his soldier, “You’ve been accused of some pretty serious crimes, Keigo. It’s not the time to joke.”

“It isn’t?” Keigo laughed again, “this is one big joke isn’t it, I mean come on! You’re believin’ these outlaws over me? I never betrayed you, Enji. They never ran away on you.”

“I ran away after findin’ the teeth you hid under your fuckin’ bed,” Bakugou hissed.

“Enough,” Endeavor grunted, glancing down at Tamaki, “where’s that journal Kirishima gave you?”

“Right here,” Tamaki said as he pulled Keigo’s journal off his desk and he handed it to Endeavor.

You pulled your gaze from Endeavor who had begun reading down to Keigo. He had fallen silent, watching his superior read. He looked calm, in fact, he almost looked relieved. You flinched when his gaze snapped to you and he watched you for a moment, keeping silent still.

It made you wonder what he was thinking about. Was he regretting his actions? Or was he envious of you, someone who he planned to put in a cell now free?

“You killed your father?” Endeavor asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Keigo answered, his voice even now, no hint of amusement at all. He was still watching you.

“No? This is your handwriting, Keigo. Izuku told me about what happened back in the other town. There were several eyewitnesses who saw you shoot Izuku in the street as well.”

Keigo turned his gaze away from you, now looking at the wall.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Bakugou barked, curling his hands into a fist, “can’t even fuckin’ bear to look at you anymore.”

You were surprised to see Bakugou actually storm out of the office and slam it shut behind him. You then shared a look with Izuku and Kirishima and they sighed, leaving the office to follow Bakugou.

“S”not lookin’ too good for you,” Endeavor said, “look son, just tell the truth and your sentence might not be as bad.”

“My sentence is death, either way, you cut it,” Keigo said, which was enough of a confession for Endeavor to hand the journal back to Tamaki.

“You know, Tokoyami had a lot of potential, it’s a shame,” Endeavor said, shaking his head as Keigo scoffed. He then turned to you. “Miss, you’re free to go now, we’ll send out a post to take down your bounty. I’m truly sorry.”

You nodded, shocked that he let you go so easily. You weren’t exactly crime free now, but you weren’t going to say anything. “Thanks.”

Endeavor tipped his hat at you and turned to Tamaki, “keep ‘em here for another night, and then I’ll take him back to base so he'll be dealt with there.” And then he left, slamming the door behind him so roughly the old building seemed to shake.

Tamaki ran a hand over his face, setting the journal back down on the desk and following Endeavor outside.

Which meant you were alone now with Keigo. You turned towards him, looking at him curled up against the wall, holding his hand on the gunshot wound on his side. He looked nothing like the villain he was before.

He just looked like a normal man to you now.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” Keigo hissed, flashing a glare at you.

You held his gaze a moment longer, and then you left. Not sparing him a second glance as you walked out the door.

Bakugou was already on his horse, getting ready to leave as well. He looked antsy, cracking his knuckles. You got on your horse, waving to Izuku who was heading off with Tamaki. Probably going to help Endeavor, you assumed.

The ride back to the pasture was tense. Bakugou was stiff, muttering under his breath and glancing back at you occasionally, to make sure you were keeping up. Once you reached camp he briefly told you in passing that he was going to go by the lake again, something about how he wanted to be alone again. Which you respected. In the past twenty-four hours you have never seen Bakugou show so much emotion, it must have been overwhelming.

Kirishima stopped his horse next to yours, sighing, “I’ll follow him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

You nodded, watching as Kirisima took off after Bakugou, riding fast to catch up.

It was a relief to see the others after the morning you had. Mina gave you a meek smile as you dismounted your horse and came to sit next to her. “How’s your arm?” you asked, looking at the makeshift splint and cast Sero had made for her.

“Hurts,” she shrugged, “and yours?”

“Hurts too,” you replied, smiling a little.

“Did they let you go?” Sero asked, looking up at you from where he was cleaning his pistol.

You nodded, “yeah, they cleared my bounty.”

“Hah, must be nice,” Sero snorted, leaning back as he put his hands behind his head, “well, what are you gonna do now with your newly acquired freedom?”

You snorted, “like there’s much to do with it,” You paused, glancing at Sero and Mina in front of you, “I would like to stay with y’all. If you’ll still have me.”

Mina laughed, “that’s gotta be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, Y/n. You’re one of us, you know that.”

You smiled, grimacing when Mina rubbed her knuckles into the top of your head. Even after everything that’s happened between you and this group of outlaws, you now finally felt like you belonged with them. They were your people, your family now.

—---

Later that night when the sun had been long gone, Bakugou and Kirishima came back. He was quiet returning to camp. Stealthily stepping over Sero’s sleeping form as he made his way to you. Kirishima tripped over Mina, barely catching himself as she rolled over on her other side.

You were barely awake, grumbling under your breath as you tried to get comfortable. Your arm still hurt like hell so it was hard to even fall asleep. You rolled over, holding your arm as you lay on your stomach.

A hand at your side had you suddenly rolling over and your eyes snapped open in surprise. You looked over your shoulder to see that it was only Bakugou behind you. He gave you a tired smile as he tugged you into his chest.

You attempted to flip in his embrace so you could face him, and with a little bit of struggling, you finally did. “Where did you go?” you whispered as he ran his hand up and down your side.

“Somewhere,” he murmured, not looking you in the eyes.

In the back of your mind, you knew where Kirishima and him went, and you think he knew it too. You brought your good hand up to his face, smoothing out his furrowed brow with your thumb, “do you feel better knowing he’s gone?”

Bakugou grabbed your hand in his and placed it on his chest. He nodded, “yeah, I do, I think.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say to him. “Well, that’s all that matters then.” You sighed, shutting your eyes as you pressed your forehead into his shoulder.

Bakugou hummed, settling down as he continued to hold your hand. Everything that he’s worked towards for so many years has finally come to a close. It felt weird not knowing what to do next. He knew at least he didn’t want to be on the run forever, and he knew the others didn’t as well. He exhaled softly as he looked around at the others, watching them for a moment before looking back at you.

At least he had you, and he figured that was something to put all his time into now, and he’d happily do it.

—---------

The summer days were growing short and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn from cool green to brilliant reds and oranges. The air was cool, rattling the drying grass as you squinted your eyes.

You brought your arm up to shield the sun from your eyes, gritting your teeth as some pain rattled up your arm, but it was so much better than before. “There,” you said, now pointing towards a large boulder in the distance.

Bakugou snorted as he shook his head, “princess, we’ve raced at least a hundred times now, and every time I’ve told you that you’re a faster rider than me.”

“Well I wanna hear it again,” you said with a wide grin, “C’mon, Katsuki, maybe you’ll beat me this time?”

Bakugou glanced at you, fighting off a smile, “okay fine, you count down then.”

You grinned, starting to count down, and once you reached zero, and you both took off racing towards the boulder up ahead. You glanced over at Bakugou who was barely behind you and gaining speed.

“Think you’re gonna lose this time,” Bakugou shouted from next to you, trying to grab at his hat before it flew off.

You frowned, kicking your horse's sides as you gripped his mane. Your horse huffed and then sped up, easily passing Bakugou’s and flying past the boulder. As you came to a stop you glanced back to see Bakugou slowing down right behind you, shaking his head as you turned around to greet him with a smug grin.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, smiling at you. “You’re a faster rider than me,” he said while he shook some hair from his eyes.

“I am aren’t I,” you replied grinning.

#tw. dacryphilla #tw. character death #tw. gun mention #tw. gore #tw. violence #bakugou x reader #tw. angst #iwar #outlaw!bakugou

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wannabegwenstacy · 4 years ago

Text

Eden's Favorite Fic's (BTS Fic Recs)

Updated Version: Here!

Note: In the past I haven't indulged in tumblr fics often but I recently (past 3 months) have been reading quite regularly & am planning on branching out a bit. To keep track of the ones that I have enjoyed & the ones that I have even came back to I'm making this list. Again, I haven't been digging into the tumblr fics world for long so for right now its a very short list. I'm hoping with time I can get more fics of different types on here (btsxbts, some gender neutral xreader ones, & more ones that I genuinely like)

About me to understand what's going to be on here:

Age: 21 (99' liner)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pronouns: She/Her

Ult Bias: Yoongi

Trio: Rap Line

I am OT7. I do enjoy smut but don't think it is necessary to FF. Overall I just want a well-crafted plot that makes sense. I read for entertainment & to escape. But I still need some form of realism (just me personally) to follow the trail of events. PSA: I'm trying to find a broader scope of writers I like but for right now I don't have many. There are gonna be some repetitive writers for now.

______________________________________________________________

Kim Namjoon:

- Librarian Namjoon Universe by @jungshookz

Beauty & the Bookworm (I love this concept SO MUCH)

Pairing: Cute, Good Boy, Nerdy, University Librarian Namjoon x Bratty, Semi-Popular, Procrastinator, University Student Reader

Word count: 20.8k

Summary: You're a procrastinator big time and you may or may not be failing. To get some extra credit you begrudgingly take the library assistant opening where you work under strict dorky Namjoon. Passive aggressiveness, cuteness, fluff, & some smuttiness arises.

Jealous-Boyfriend-Librarian Namjoon (Drabble)

Pairing: Jealous Boyfriend Librarian Namjoon x Oblivious Cute Girlfriend Uni Student Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You take an Art History Course and end up needing a tutor. Joon offers to tutor you but he doesn't know shit about Art History so you end up getting tutored by an ArtHoe Taehyung that may or may not like you but you are oblivious to this and Joon gets super jealous.

Kim Seokjin:

- Hockey Player Jin by @ve1vetyoongi

HEART OF GOLD (BLADES OF ICE)

Pairing: Sweet Hot New Hockey Player in Town Jin x Ex-Figure Skater (who has a history with jin) Reader

Word count: 20k

Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart. (Jimin is a bully in this and their other k-pop idols as characters. Very Very Fluffy and Hallmark Christmas Movie-ish so be aware of that. Overall, it's just cute :) )

Min Yoongi:

Note: these are all but one by the same writer @jungshookz & are written from the pov of a female reader. I'm gonna try to find some gender-neutral fics but for now, if you are female-identifying I really enjoyed these! :)

- Mechanic Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Baby, You Can Drive My Car (My favorite AU Fics I've read so far on Tumblr!!)

Pairing: Tatted, Mic Drop Era, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Spoiled Rich, Inexperienced, University Student Reader

Word count: 24.6k

Summary: Welcome to Min Mechanics - What can I do for you today, doll?

Maybe She Can Drive His Car

Pairing: Oblivious, Hot, Boyfriend, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Adorable, Spoiled, University Student, Jealous Girlfriend Reader

Word count: 11.6k

Summary: Yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you would be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

- Uni Yoongi x Nerdy Reader (mini series) by @jungshookz

Note: these are all drabbles I'm gonna link my favorites in the series. I'll probably add more later.

Cocky Uni Student Yoongi x Nerdy Reader:

^^This is the start of the mini-series, recommend you read it first!^^

The One with the Scrunchie:

Contains: smut, a super cute scrunchie turning into a kink of sorts, slightly insecure Yoongi, experienced Yoongi, slightly inexperienced reader, shy about their own body reader.

Yoongi always had an Overactive Imagination:

Contains: talking about sex, implied smut, reader trying to be productive while also being horny, Yoongi being super distracted and horny.

"I'm gonna need you to shut up now please"

- CEO Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Suit&Tie (First Fic in the series)

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Wordcount: 21k+

Summary: Young Intimidating Hot CEO Yoongi, Clumsy Secretary Y/N who loves Sugar, Best Friend Jimin. Funny Awkward Meeting that sets up the whole plot, was like reading a Kdrama in book form.

The One Where Augst D makes a Comeback (Favorite Fic in the series)

SPOILERS READ PRIOR DRABBLES TO CATCH UP!! (I recommend The First Date, The One Where Yoongi is Just a Little Jealous, The Proposal, The Wedding, Baby Makes Three, Baby Min's Timeline, The Birth of Baby Min, Daddy's Little Girl, Who the Hell is Augst D.

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Summary: Yoongi finds out you faked an orgasm and he's going to gi-give it to you more ways than one.

- Demon Yoongi by @jungshookz

Hellish (I got some feelings for incubus Yoongi not gonna lie)

Pairing: Bratty, Super Sexy, Sex Demon, Mint Min Yoongi x University Student, Non-Supernatural Believer Reader

Word count: 22.1k

Summary: Jungkook is your clueless, energetic best friend. Wonho is a character in this fic, You are dragged into summoning a demon one night by your overly excited to be summoning a demon? best friend Jungkook. Spooky but Kind of Sexy Shit Happens! (This is probably my second favorite Yoongi Fic I've read!)

- Basketball Captain Yoongi by @jungshookz

Basketball Captain Yoongi

Pairing: Cocky, Popular, Charming Captain of the Basketball Team Min Yoongi x Water girl University Student Reader (who has been crushing on Yoongi hard for some time)

Word count: 18.4k

Summary: Jungkook is your athletic bro of a best friend that signs you up to be his replacement as the water boy (girl in this case) after he makes the team. You have had a pathetic schoolgirl crush on Yoongi for a while and is basically the only reason you agreed to be the water girl aside from spending time with Jungkook. It's fluffy & smutty!

- Android Yoongi @jungshookz

Technologically in love (..I cried! but I also smiled a lot so you know this is well written)

Pairing: Personal Assistant Prototype but SUPER Lifelike Android Min Yoongi x Messy, Junkfood, & Cartoons Loving Reader (basically your early 20s living alone kind of vibe)

Word count: 24k+

Summary: You live in a Detroit Becoming Human type universe but prior to a lot of the advancements. Androids are already a thing but not to the level the M1N Y00NG1 is yet. You are best friends with all the boys and they happen to be engineers which is how you ended up with Yoongi in the first place. Namjoon created Yoongi as a personal assistant prototype android & you are told to live with him. Things get fluffy, SUPER ANGSTY, and super smutty!

- Listen Closely by @avveh

Listen Closely ( sexiest Yoongi fic I have read so far, I kept wanting to go back and read again)

Pairing: Tsundere Office Worker Min Yoongi x Hardworking Office Worker Reader

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: Unintentionally, you stumble upon something that makes you view your coworker Min Yoongi in a whole new light. (SMUT 18+: Masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breathplay, spanking, degrading names.)

Jung Hoseok:

- Secret Boyfriend Hoseok by @kpopfanfictrash

Keeping a Secret (this took me places...Idk about you but I have trouble finding really good Hoseok fics and this one was perfect. One of my favorite fics on this website)

Pairing: New Relationship Dom Hoseok x New Relationship Tease Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated? SMUT!

- Studio Sex Hoseok by @joonbird

Studio:

Pairing: Boyfriend BTS Hoseok x Girlfriend Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax. (Hobi being the beautiful glorious sexy man he is and putting those ungodly hips to use!)

Park Jimin:

- Jimin and His Pregnancy Kink by @boymeetsweevil

ME, YOU, AND THIS THING WE HAVE BETWEEN US (NSFW)

Pairing: Sweet Caring Domestic but Horny Jimin x Pregnant Hormonal Reader

Word count:~3.7k

Warnings (aka what to prepare for): everything is graphic and gross lmao, blowjobs (face f*cking), boob job (not the one w/ silicon inserts), cunnilingus, dom!jimin if u squint, cumplay if u squint again, dirty talk/degrading language, penetrative sex (doggy style), unprotected sex, PREGNANCY KINK that’s a big one

Summary: You’re pregnant and Jimin is…happy about it (If I remember correctly this one is 25% cute domestic Jimin trying to calm his hormonal pregnant partner and 75% pure filth aka Jimin having a pregnancy kink and trying to hide it but not well at all. This is however my ultimate fav Jimin smut I have ever read!)

- Crush/Neighbor Jimin by @sketchguk

Lover to Lean On: (I absolutely adore this fic. Overall it's just really well written and I felt like I was watching a show in my head rather than reading a short Tumblr fic. Highly recommend it!)

Pairing: Cute Customer & Neighbor Jimin x Florist Reader

Word Count: 19.9k

Summary: For months, you can hear your no-face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. Above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. You’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course, you’re bitterly single. But one day, the apartment is radio silent. And one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. So on Valentine’s Day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

Kim Taehyung:

-Roommate Taehyung Universe by @jungshookz

Stuck with You

Pairing: Frat Bro bit of an asshole Roommate Kim Taehyung x Clean Organized bit of a Pushover Reader

Word count: 37k

Summary: Kim Taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things to ever happen to you. Librarian Namjoon is your Best friend and ex-roommate. Frat bro Jeon Jungkook makes an appearance. There is so smut and implied smut.

The One with the One Year Anniversary (Drabble)

Pairing: The cutest domestic boyfriend Kim Taehyung x girlfriend reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: NO SPOILERS! so I'm going to give you a quote: "well, um, look! I made breakfast for you. f-for us!" Also, SFW

Jeon Jungkook:

- Gamer Jungkook by @softyoongiionly

PRESS START (this is the cutest fucking smut type fic I have ever read! it is so pure and is the exact type of relationship I want! IT MADE ME SIMP SO HARD!) gender-neutral I believe!

Pairing: Night owl Gamer Domestic Boyfriend Jeon Jungkook x Witty Domestic Cutesy Relationship Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: A night in with your boyfriend Jungkook includes all kinds of things: anime, witty banter, snacks from 7-Eleven and, you know, sex. (GREAT READ!! I AM A SIMP FOR THIS FIC!!)

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tenderlyrenjun · 4 years ago

Text

the one with the morning classes

summary: you don’t really want to go to class, and Yangyang half-agrees.

↛ ↛ ↛ psych major!Yangyang x art history major!reader

↛ ↛ older female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, yearning, best friends to lovers/ish, smut (18+) - there is literally sex in every scene, best friend!ten on both sides, study dates, love confessions in bed

↛ word count: 11,9k (I am so sorry lmao)

part one > part two > part three

if you are under 18 and interact with this at all, i will block you

An obnoxious ringing interrupts your day, way too early, and you whine at it, suddenly reminded about the terrible decision that you made last year with the on-call academic advisor: selling your soul to Satan, or, as they phrased it, taking an 8 A.M. class. The default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless right now, even though you have a class at this time every semester.

Still, it takes Herculean effort to pull your hot, sweaty face out of the pillows and actually get a breath of fresh air. You inhale once, twice, then support yourself on your elbows, tossing all your messy hair over your bare back, like a curtain, to draw it away from your cheeks. The sunlight makes you squint, not having given you enough time to adjust to it yet, because laying in bed, naked, is so much more enticing than actually waking up. Unfortunately, the ringing persists, getting louder, you think. You find yourself clawing through the sheets again, in search of that damn alarm. And when you do find it, screen faced down, you hit snooze via power button, giving yourself extra time before class.

After the annoying sound stops, Yangyang leans toward your naked shoulder, his d!ck thrusting in you at a further angle. He kisses the tip your spine with slightly parted lips, peppering more along your deltoid muscles, directed by his trailing tongue. You cannot tell was tingles more – the goosebumps left in his wake, or the blood rushing to your vulva, caused by the nipping at your skin. Yangyang finds a more permanent spot (that would be hidden by a shirt) above your collarbone and sucks deeper for a few seconds. Instinctively, you drop your cheek into the sheets again and swirl your ass up, before propping your lower body on your knees. His groans fall with you, and he nearly did too, but he stands on his hands. You are very aware of his strength, especially now as you close your eyes and he reverses your moves, grinding his hips forward. One of his hands reaches forward to grab your face and finally kiss you. He is slow and head spinning, and he continuously inclines his head at varying degrees to keep the embrace going.

Then, your phone goes off again and you break the kiss.

“We need to get – Oh, God.” Your forehead redirects onto the mattress, and your breath becomes shallow, cracked by sharp whines blurring out the alarm. As far as you are concerned, Yangyang is all consuming, from the way he kisses you to the way he makes you feel. “Ah, right there, please.” He squeezes your ass, fingers drilling deeply into your skin. His touch feels better than a massage, you think, almost loosening up all your muscle tension.

“So naughty,” Yangyang whispers, strongly. He sounds masculine without being so aggressive. It is very sexy of him. You try to show him, too, that he is hot, by reacting more enthusiastically. Unlike him, you say it silently and hope he knows. He replies, slapping your butt again, and smirks when you moan. “Wanna play hooky? You still, fuck –“ His breath drops, voice getting lower, huskier. He propels his d!ck shallowly, at the same pace your mouth widens in an ‘O’ shape. “- remember your manners.”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree. You roll your hips side to side, slowly stretching as if coming out of child’s position in yoga. It similarly feels satisfactory, like an injection of morphine. “We really need to get up. I have class; you – shit –“ His thrust pushes you forward, muting your counterarguments. “- you have class soon.”

Yangyang combs your baby hairs onto your opposite shoulder, gently nibbling around your thyroid, and you whine, knowing that you have an easily swayed mindset right now. “It doesn’t sound like you want to get up yet.” He guides your hips like a figure eight motion. His hand comes around front, between your thighs, holding on in a way that allows him to stimulate your clit with his index and thumb. Every movement gets more intense: the speed, the pressure, even the direction of his fingers, as he elongates all the sensations. It feels like he gets bigger too, lunging more alert with his thrusts. “You need a good wake up call, huh?”

You nod, eagerly, biting your lip. “Mmhmm, my morning ritual is, is really long, fuck.”

Yangyang smirks, motivated even more by the double entendre. And the way his tip rasps against your walls, oh god. You ball the sheets into your fists, putting a protective layer between your nails and palm because he gradually becomes erratic. He comes down to your ear, using his lips to bite at it while whispering, “Wanna turn off the alarm?”

“Hmm?” You open your eyes. “Oh, right.” It doesn’t feel like it has been nine minutes. So, after you pick your phone up again, you turn it over to look at the alarm settings, but it is replaced by the call acceptance slider. You blink a couple times and try getting a clearer look – which is difficult, considering that your head keeps bouncing as he grinds harder and harder, and harder. Then, the call restarts. “Shit.”

Yangyang stops moving to glimpse at what’s wrong. His chest brushes against your back and you can feel his erect n!pples graze your spine. You turn the screen at him, contemplating whether to answer it. Thank God, though, that Ten isn’t asking to FaceTime. You honestly don’t know how you would recover from him seeing Yangyang lay naked on you, especially after that comment at the Halloween party about feeling ‘too comfortable’ with him like this.

“I’m gonna answer it.”

“What?”

“I have to answer it,” you argue. “It’s Ten. He’s going to suspect something if I don’t.” The call ends again, and the notification center shows six missed calls. You turn over your phone again. “Shit, he’s been phoning all morning. I have to answer it.”

You partially expect Yangyang to get up. Instead, he comes down, brushing your hair over your shoulder and pushes you into the blanket. You stretch your arms away from him to redial Ten’s number, although your hands (and thighs) start shakily with his moves. The line rings four times before Ten answers, and you sigh, half-disappointed, half-orgasmically.

“Um, hello?” Ten answers sarcastically, on speaker. “Are you ready? ETA 20.” You hear rustling on the other end that sounds similar to Yangyang ruffling your bedsheets. He is trying to get at your t!ts and you let him, propping up into a true doggystyle. Ten doesn’t appear to discern anything, so you keep the phone on mute – which is necessary because you buck your hips at Yangyang, getting his tip angled on your g-spot. He outlines your n!pples, fingers squeezing over your areola. You almost moan again, but Ten reminds you about his presence: “I’m getting in my car right now.”

“Hmm?” Why?

The silence is deafening, all excess noise stopping, until it is just your heavy breaths and small wet noises. You widen your eyes, thinking that Ten discovered your current … entanglement, so you grab Yangyang’s hand, to suppress anymore sounds. It makes you lose balance temporarily, but expectedly he catches you, by the waist. He waist a few seconds, then drops his wrist to your clit, lightly sliding up and down without thrusting his d!ck. You let him continue, panting with your lower abdomen quivering. He has to stop though, because his exhibitionist tendencies might expose you two. You take his hand off your clitoral hood and kiss his inner wrist before sucking his fingers clean. He shudders his hips. You bite your lip. He smiles. Then, he takes his hand back, planting it into the mattress for extra support so that you can actually answer this call, that the two of you keep forgetting about.

“It’s my treat, remember?” Ten tries to jog your memory, nearly shouting. You can hear him breaking through your bubble. It is just that you are a bit distracted at the moment to really recall any memories. You cannot be entirely held accountable for Yangyang’s big d!ck.

Yangyang starts sucking on your neck again, pushing his pelvis slowly into your ass harder, to give you a better reminder: that you are currently being a good girl for him, to make up for being so naughty this morning (even though he also seemed pretty close to ditching class earlier).

“For breakfast yesterday, after the party,” Ten outwardly tells you. Right, it’s Monday, and you often grab coffee with Ten on the way to campus because 8AMs are hell – you have to absorb new information when you can barely see through all the crap in your eyes, and he can barely comprehend his notes from the night before without the morning bean juice. There is some shuffling on his end again, similar to shaking his wrist free of a sweater to get a better look at his watch. It isn’t enough to hide the moan trapped in your throat. So, you try biting your fist as Yangyang swirls his hips, grazing the ends of your nerves. You roll your eyes to the back of your head and hit mute, in order to moan. “Unless you want to walk? I don’t think you’ll make it though. It’s, like, almost 7:20.”

“What?” your voice cracks. You are still muted though, so you un-mute and repeat the exclamation, whining a little when Yangyang tries to get you to orgasm faster, also having heard the time. Hopefully Ten does not notice anything. You think that you were quiet enough to push it off as a complaint.

“I’ll be outside your apartment in 20.”

Yangyang pulls your chin to make you look at him, staring at you to ask what is going on. You mouth a quick explanation: Ten. Ride. Coffee. 20 minutes. He is so close, warm breath enveloping your skin. You take the distance, initiating yet another kiss, essentially in front of your best friend, although the latter cannot hear or see either of you. Yangyang holds onto your chin, possibly afraid of being swept away or falling again. But you have enough support for both of you, and you know that if you fell, he would catch you. So, you kiss him again, and again.

“Hello?” Ten calls into the void. “Did you lose signal again? See, I told you not to choose the shitty complex on Main because the connection is so bad there.”

You put a hand above Yangyang’s heart and clear your voice, turning to the speaker. “I’m still here. Just, hold on a second.” You hit mute again, then turn to Yangyang. “Do you want a ride too?” Yangyang contemplates for a second, and you drop your forehead into your elbow, biting your lip because, after all, he is still inside you, inside your clenching and very aroused p.ussy, where you want him to finish. He nudges your shoulder with his nose and confirms that yeah, he needs a ride. You kiss him a few more times, unsure why, just wanting to be close – something about want to say in his presence, enjoying his presence. He swirls his hips. It feels really good to be with him. “Yeah, so Yangyang is in the neighborhood.”

“Wha-“

“A huh,” you whine, more at Yangyang than Ten. “He just texted me. He’ll meet you – us! He’ll meet us at my apartment. I’m going to get ready now, bye!” you say everything in one breath, hanging up as equally abruptly before Ten could insert his two cents. You drop the phone and turn around, kissing Yangyang deeply. As he returns your affection, you enunciate slowly, “Five minutes, then we have to get ready. Ten is getting too suspicious.”

Yangyang finishes a little bit after five minutes, not that you mind. Non-residents have to get buzzed into your building, and Ten doesn’t have a key to your front door. You indulge the moment, laying on your arm bent under a pillow. He looks at you with all the care in the world, no longer that suave fuck buddy from a few moments ago but a young romantic who caresses your inner thigh and talks big game about all the connections you two have in common, or don’t. Your hand dips to the top of his head, combing a small section with your nails to his ends. Yangyang asks you for the time, and you almost don’t give it to him, preferring to spend time with him here than overanalyzing some stupid thesis statement that you wrote at 4AM. You pout, and pull his phone between the two of you, showing him that Ten will arrive in ten minutes – ironic, you think.

Yangyang approaches your face, millimeters from your lips. He waits for you to flutter your eyes closed, anticipating a kiss, then runs into the shower. It takes you a minute to join him, and when he sees you, smirking, like you have some dastardly revenge plan in the works, Yangyang shuts the glass door, isolating himself in the cold shower. He holds on extra tightly so that you cannot get in. You look hot when you are annoyed though – he needs to annoy you more. It is even more fun to mollify you. He pulls you into the shower next to him by grabbing your ass and makes out with you against the wall for a few seconds, until you start stretching at the lavender body wash on the shelf behind him.

This time, Yangyang finishes first, hopping out to sprinkle the roots of his hair with dry shampoo so Ten does not get too suspicious. If he has wet hair, then it would be obvious that he stayed over. He puts the powder back on the shelf and wanders into your room, towel wrapped loosely around his waist – even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There are a few of his clothes in your closet from all the time you stole them, or a couple mini getaways that you two have taken. After he changes into an outfit that he can actually wear in public, he picks out an extra one of his over-sized shirts and drapes it on the towel rack for when you get out. He knows that you really like his clothes, especially the organic band tees. It is another plus that you share the same music taste. Hopefully, none of his friends catch onto the coincidental similarities.

Yangyang likes that you spend a lot of time in his clothes. They always end up smelling like your lotions. It is comforting and reminds him of all the nights ‘studying’ until 3AM. You know, not that he would actually say it out loud (mostly because he also likes to wear his favorite shirts), but you look cuter than him, in his Kendrick Lamar concert tee. And besides, there is a secondary reason as to why he rummaged through your underwear drawer: he wanted to choose your panties for today. It might be a black lingerie set, but how is he supposed to know the difference between a t-shirt bra and a balconette? :^)

Yangyang makes his way into the kitchen, snagging a mini muffin off the island. With the work out he just had, he needs protein but there isn’t enough time to cook anything, not that he actually could; eh, he’ll end up buying something on campus. He tosses two more muffins into his backpack for later – one chocolate for him, one strawberry for you. On Mondays, between classes, he usually catches you in the student experience center, finishing some last-minute assignments. You always end up pushing lunch until after four, ergo he tries to bring you some snacks, whenever he can. Once, his research methods class got cancelled and you didn’t have any pre-lecture materials to work on, so he brought two cups of ramen. You two had a semi-date then. He wonders if it can happen again, today. Ten interrupts the thought though, before it can develop into a real plan, and he sighs. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps thinking about defining this relationship at the worst possible times.

“Yellow?” Yangyang answers, mid-bite. He shifts the phone to his shoulder so that he can check your notification center for any missed calls. You have three. Ten has been going to voicemail all morning, Yangyang deduces, and if he was Ten, he would be damn suspicious at this point.

“Hi, baby,” Ten coos. “I’m outside. Buzz me in, yeah?”

Yangyang reflexively pouts. “I’m not your baby. I’m 20 now.” Still though, he complies, letting Ten into the building, and his friend is upstairs within a minute – not that it is too far. You live on the second floor.

“So,” Ten sings while glancing around the apartment. Yangyang wonders what for – hopefully, not searching for his secret relationship. Ten closes the door, his eyes landing on Yangyang and eying him down suspiciously, in a curious way. “What are you doing in the neighborhood, anyways?”

“I, uh, bought breakfast at Allen’s coffee, down the street,” he lies, “And I didn’t feel like walking back to the frat.” He shrugs too, trying hard to be as nonchalant as possible.

“A huh.” Ten does not seem to accept it, but he lets it slide when you walk into the room, wearing Yangyang’s t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Yangyang cannot see why Ten would recognize the top because you also happen to like Kendrick Lamar – one of your favorite songs is King Kunta, even though you cannot sing along to save your life. Yangyang finds it endearing that you enjoy rap music, even though you cannot match the flow or pitch.

His gaze is still endearing when you walk into the kitchen, beelining for the last mini muffin. Yangyang catches how intensely he was staring at you, after you blink at him (and Ten).

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” they mutter, looking away.

“Okay,” you drawl suspiciously, swallowing half your breakfast. You fold the rest of it into the front pocket of your backpack and pick up your textbook. Yangyang meets your gaze but you immediately flicker to Ten. “Can we grab something at Starbucks really quick?”

Ten stares at Yangyang. You just got coffee for yourself, even though you were coming here? Yangyang waves a hand, unsure how to respond. This whole secret relationship has gone on longer than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing when he first kissed you, the night that Ten introduced you two back in March after Renjun’s birthday party, and not even a one-night stand! He just expected you to make out with him, not give him a blowjob in Kun’s bathroom then let him take you back to his room at the frat.

“What?” You look between them. Yangyang shakes his head, nothing. You stare him down and give in, then turn back to Ten. “I haven’t eaten anything. Please?”

“Alright, fine,” Ten cedes. He holds his hands up in surrender, his keys waving like a white flag. As you all file out the door, Yangyang jokingly asks if he can drive. Ten deadpans at him, protective over the car, and smacks him on the back of his head. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang barely notices when they pull into the drive-thru on 1st, too busy scrolling through Instagram while you and Ten talk about an EDM festival coming this weekend. He only picks up his head when you lean over the gear shift, blocking the GPS from his view (in the middle seat) – he was monitoring the distance to make sure that you get to class on time.

“Can we get two breakfast sandwiches, an iced coffee with 2% milk, and an iced London fog latte, extra pump of vanilla, with coconut milk?” You turn to ten. “Want anything?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows. Neither of them looks at Yangyang, and he lowers his phone, knowing that he is about to be caught in a lie. He didn’t think that Ten would ask anything because of the time crunch. Evidently, he was wrong, and now he doesn’t know how to unspin the lie.

“Who are you ordering all that food for?” Ten asks.

You look at him skeptically, a what the fuck hanging palpably in the air before you point to the backseat. “For the baby.”

“Not a baby,” Yangyang pipes up, voice cracking. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, smiling embarrassed.

Ten turns on his side, back facing the window as he stares between the two of you, ultimately settling on Yangyang. “I thought that you said you already got breakfast at Allen’s.” Ten rotates to you. “That’s why he’s in the neighborhood, right?”

A huh, yeah. Yangyang almost tells another lie but the monitor clerk asks if they want anything else, and they are holding up the line with an empty lane in front. Saved by the bell intercom. Ten orders an extra americano, then you all persist through the awkward silence until reaching the front window. You pay with the app as Ten passes out the round of drinks like a bartender. Yangyang pokes his paper straw through the lid. You can’t baby him if he does everything himself first.

“Uh, are you good?”

Yangyang looks up. You have your iced latte between your legs, holding it at the top of your thighs on your crotch like an ice pack.

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ten enunciates, putting this drink in the cup holder, “people only put ice on their private parts when they’re sore.” He widens his eyes, posture stiffening and he points at you. “Did you have that guy over? The best y-“

“You don’t –“ You hold up a hand, physically interrupting him. Yangyang should have known that Ten would never seriously suspect him as your fuck buddy; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “- have to repeat it. I just feel sore.”

Yangyang smirks at that, but he has to hide it when Ten looks at him, pinching his cheeks down like a Tim Burton character. The look in Ten’s eyes is confused again, and he knows that one of two questions is going to come out: if he met that guy that you’re sleeping with, of if he is the guy that you are sleeping with. Fortunately, Yangyang sees the navigation touch screen, and the time is two minutes until eight and you are five minutes off campus. Ten has to drop the conversation and speed to the art building so that at least you get there on time. The extra few minutes he has to spend alone with Ten gives him the idea to cool things off with you for a few days.

That sounds bad, like he is blowing you off, but honestly, you agreed.

Yangyang caught you in front of the communal office space for linguistics GTAs, a few minutes before office hours ended. He snatched you into a supply closet, dragging you by the waist, and covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming bloody murder. You two acknowledged the thin ice that has been melting for a couple weeks now. And he brought up taking a break from seeing each other for a while. At first, you thought that he was breaking up with you – or as close to breaking up as possible, because still, you are not dating. But then, he saw your face and reassured you that he does want to keep seeing you, even in secret; maybe next time, you two should talk about your relationship.

Friends do not need to see each other every day, you know. Or, like, at least, casual friends don’t. Sure, you FaceTime Ten all the time and Yangyang lives with Xiaojun so he sees his best friend daily by default, but you two are not similarly close friends, especially not when other people can perceive how you two interact. No one has to know just that you see Yangyang just as often, in person. And you do it because, well, because you like him – which explains how he ends up back in your bed by Wednesday.

“I’m gonna be late again.”

“No, you won’t.”

Yangyang reaches around your collarbone, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip until he can comfortably hold your jaw. He draws you in for another kiss, his eyes mirroring yours - distracted, enamored, aroused. You cautiously spin around, throwing your arms around his neck to avoid getting swept away, which seems impossible because he holds you securely, at your mandible and the beltloop on your waist. He inhales upon the next embrace, closing his pretty mouth over your philtrum like a slow bite – like several slow bites. You meet him, every time, at the end of each kiss when he shifts onto his toes, getting too tall for your lips, and pull him back on the ground to get more. He moans, after you start roaming your hands under his shirt, running your nails over the crevices in his body like a memorization technique for an early class you don’t have.

You feel hungry, for love, wanting to feel warm. The sun will not rise for another half hour, but he is the warmest thing in the room, even though you are fully dressed, not expecting to be late like two days ago. He copies your moves, unbuckling his hand like a belt, sliding it under your shirt and palming your b.oobs. Then, you squeal, giggling breathily, when he spins you around again and smacks your ass, pushing your thighs into the mattress that you two are standing over.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in your ear, sucking upward on your external jugular vein.

“No.”

Yangyang stops, deadpanned. He hits your butt again, like a punishment – his favorite kind of punishment, it seems because he repeats it every morning like a bad kind of player, the rich one who goes to bars and unexpectedly falls in love with an attendee, as if it is a coming of age Netflix movie. He repeats it again until you fall on your hands over the bed. You look behind your shoulder at him, jaw dropped. And he takes no time to interpret it, stumbling next to you.

You roll over, led by your hips, so that you can match him, latching onto his face with your hands on his cheeks. “Of course, I trust you, dummy.”

He looks down still, picking at the seams of your jeans. And you detect his teasing tone, easily, because he goes directly to your inner thighs, tracing up along the thread until he reaches your zipper. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, then make him look at you. He has that kicked-puppy expression in the way the outline of his eyes falls below his eyebrows, but the glint and the gummy smile have you knowing otherwise. “Yes.”

Yangyang pops your pants button undone, mischievously pulling his lips into a dramatic pout. “And you’re not lying to me?”

“No,” you emphasize. You brush his hair back, scratching your nails along his scalp, behind his ears. His smile cannot help itself, breaking out in a way that has you completely immersed. It reminds you of that time when you went go karting with Ten and a few others. You were undoubtedly a bad driver, bumping into the track walls, even during the straight lanes. One time, you made a particularly excellent sharp turn, surpassing Johnny to the finish line. Unfortunately, you were completing lap 3 of 5 and him 5 of 5, but Yangyang still congratulated you afterward – in bed. He also lit up, when you two were just laying under the covers, staring at the ceiling because the stars were too far away. You held onto the arm around your waist, laying on his naked shoulder as he told you about wanting to be a race car driver as a kid, then an automotive or aerospace engineer as a teenager, before he settled on psychology. He kept talking, as if crafting this beautiful galaxy. That is when you knew.

“Prove it.”

“What?” You sit up and straddle him. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Yangyang starts begging for affection, slithering his hand down your stomach, into your underwear. He pulls you into his chest, giggling when you topple him into the pillows, clearly not having estimated the force. You like that you never have to beg for his attention. He always, for some reason, notices you, and it is so hard not to pick up on it. You wonder just how no one has learned about you two yet. It’s not like you are being subtle. Although, the smallest acts he gives you can be found under subtle in the dictionary. Like now, he tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze flickering from his hand across your cheek to your eyes. You kiss him again – only a brief peck, because he inserts two fingers inside you, making you gasp sharply enough to break.

“Can I confess something?” you ask, suddenly braved by an idea to prove that you do trust him.

Yangyang stops fucking you, his fingers flexed still. He scans your face for an actual lie but knows that he will never find one, mostly because he already knows the next few words out of your mouth; he has felt the same way for months. And maybe, at this point, he owes you some explanation, for keeping his own confession unspoken. He wants to give it to you first, before your own declaration. It is something that he thinks he should do, like a societal norm for the guy to confess – that is what all the romantic movies say, right? Well, there is Princess Leia and Han with their whole I love you and I know dynamic, and while that was really cool in the scene, Yangyang has a fixed scenario in his head.

“I love you,” he blurts, quickly, sitting up.

“You love me?”

His heart drops. You are not supposed to surprised. He was nearly 100% confident that you had fallen in love with him, too, but this might confirm that so much was in his head. You keep staring at him, jaw slacked and hands on his shoulders. Only when he starts pulling away do you react, catching his hand.

“I really like you,” Yangyang reiterates, self-pouring salt into his bleeding heart. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should even be vulnerable again, but what does he have to lose? “I –“ He swallows, still looking into your eyes – “I love you.”

Then you kiss him.

And he lets you kiss him.

He lets you kiss him because of the way you cradle his face, like he is made of glass, like he is the most precious crystal that you have to protect. Your lips get softer when he wets them with his tongue, after feeling confidence in your embrace. You kiss him in a way that takes away the word the love, wrapping him in a security blanket to return the warmth.

“I love you,” you whisper slowly, barely audibly enough for him to hear it over the smack of your tongue as you lower to him. You pause, mouth slightly ajar on his. “Too.”

Yangyang peers at your closed eyes, almost willing you to open them so he can tell you, again, that he loves you, so he can see your reaction when he really tells you. He grabs your face and sits up again. You roll your head to the side, like you anticipate his kiss. He gives it you, simultaneously returning his hand into your pants.

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it right now?” Yangyang asks you with a sense of urgency.

You turn around, fumbling around for your phone, which is now somewhere mixed in your sheets. The two of you had spent a good ten minutes remaking the bed after the night you had, and currently, blankets are strewn across, folded into messy piles. With the thought distracting you, Yangyang slips two fingers past your underwear again, twisting the crotch area with his thumb for easier access. You pause, sighing heavily, hand bunching up the linen as he scissors you.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, slightly stuttering at the end, hesitant to add a term of endearment. Even with the confessions you both just gave, it does not define your relationship and he doesn’t know how to broach it just yet, only wanting to kiss you closely and hear all the love sounds that he feels deprived of.

“It’s 6:21.”

“Good,” Yangyang whispers in your ear as he prepares you to take him. “We have time.”

Yangyang redirects your face to his, tilting your chin up as he leans to the side, almost inhaling your lips. Upon another kiss, he adds his tongue, tired of the light pecks. They don’t express his affection as much as he wants, because small embraces end quicker, causing you to withdraw – which is the furthest desire from his mind, especially considering that he just confessed, multiple times. He curls his tongue, placing only the tip beyond your lips. You check him, trying to catch his tongue but merely snagging his spit. He smirks because you whine again. Was that not enough? Obviously not, he notes after you pull back, breathing on his lips, making him chase you. Your breath sounds rapid and rough, and he wants to alleviate your nerves. Yangyang extends his neck again, craning to meet your lips. He gives you a second to recover, to prepare, panting the faintest ghost kisses across your lower face. Your hand comes above his shaking heart, stopping there as you bite your lip coyly. He wonders if you want to stop. Both of you just acknowledged a lingering more-than-friends adoration.

But then you slide your hand under his chin, making him really look at you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

The repet!tion exceeds his own confession, and he isn’t sure whether to confess again, but you take the initiative for him, rocking side to side like ridin’ d!ck bicycle. Yangyang parts his lips just enough to blow small, uneven breaths. He feels you open his jeans while shifting over one of his thighs, his fingers still trembling inside you. Sex with you always feels so reciprocated. Your nails graze his c.ock erect, your hand tightening at the tip, where you push your thumb on his pre-cum. It gives almost the same sensation as your tongue and the sensation gets more intense. He starts thrusting in tandem, making you clench, around his bicep, for support. When you start flicking the flesh on the underside of his penis (the part that connects the shaft to head), he stops your hand.

Yangyang comes forward, caressing your mouth and massaging your clit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum,” you taunt him, smirking into the kiss.

Your resolve temporarily falters, dripping into a moan that he swallows up wholly. He keeps sinking his fingers at different depths, at a fast and shallow pace, waiting for you to reach the same point. You certainly feel wet enough. He touches that spongey tissue area in your p.ussy that has you seeing stars. You moan his name over and over again, until the two syllables become a tongue twister. He disentangles your tongue, using his own. All those years tying cherry stems in his mouth as a teenager really paid off. He starts making a come-hither gesture, simultaneously flirting with your lips. After your hand ceases, exclusively squeezing his base, right above his balls, Yangyang slows down, slipping his fingers away from your G-spot, up and over your clit, your orgasm weakening.

“Ugh,” you grumble.

“We have time,” Yangyang tells you, “to have sex.” He looks at you through his eyelashes, gradually lowering his head under your shirt, his shirt. After Monday, he wondered if you ever owned any shirts yourself, or if you donated all of them once you ‘discovered’ his closet. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t know whether to clown you or flirt with you. The first option would make you laugh, but the second would get him laid. Luckily, you decide for him, shimming out of your jeans and panties, then you slide his pants down to his ankles. He wraps his hand around your throat, drawing you to his lips, and he unintentionally squeezes when you settle on the tip of his c.ock. As you ride him, your walls hug his d!ck nicely, giving it a nice tight feeling that he can’t help but moan at. You straighten your back to gain some height over him and slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands reach out to your ass, guiding your hips forward in waves. He starts breathing heavier and his grip gets stronger.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Yangyang kisses you, pulling your words into his mouth, “So cum.”

“Fuck.”

He chases after your high, under the guise of helping you ride out this orgasm, getting his d!ck to twitch deeply inside you. When his hold gets too firm, you whine, suddenly over stimulated. Your nails dig into his bicep roughly, barely soothed by the t-shirt he still wears. He thrusts asynchronously with you before coming undone and dragging you into his chest. You feel warm and sweaty in this post-sex glow, your hand and head resting on his chest. He traces little hearts on your inner wrist, not wanting to let you go completely.

“You need to stop picking my underwear if you’re just going to destroy them,” you joke, kissing him on the cheek. “I have to double wash these thongs you know.”

“Can we –“ Yangyang swallows a lump in his throat. He feels like he is pulling you impossibly close, even though you are not moving away. “Can we go back to that thing you were saying earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“The,” he pauses, indecisive whether he actually wants to bring everything up right now. He ultimately decides for it. “Part with the ‘I love you’?” He knows that his voice sounds smaller than normal and that his eyes are shifting nervously at yours, but he wants to hear it again, wants the validation.

“Right,” you understand, nodding your head equally slowly. You straddle his lap again, and he immediately balances you by the waist, wanting to keep that impossibly close distance. “I’m – I’ve fallen –“ You swallow, looking away, but he needs you to look at him. Because if you can’t say it to his face, how does he know that you’re not just saying it out of obligation? Thankfully though, you see to be on the same wavelength, returning to his eyes, and his breath hitches, abs shaking in anticipation. You confidently give him the sentiment, “I love you.”

Yangyang tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way his fingers finish, stroking along our cheekbone. “I know,” he whispers coolly, leaning into your ear. “It’s hard not to love me,” he changes the subject, “I’m the best.” You scoff and push his chest, but he fastens an arm around you as equally fast, smiling too wide. He is a little sorry, for ruining the moment, but his laugh isn’t convincing at all. “I love you too.”

Sex, you think, feels infinitely better once the weight was lifted off your chest, once the spoonful of love was added. And the way Yangyang keeps kissing you, absolutely obsessed with holding your waist, tells you that spoonful is a misnomer, too small. The measurement for an entire ocean might be a better description. Still though, you would never call describe sex as love making, especially not to his face. At that point, you would be faced with an ‘oh, my god; that’s disgusting, man’ – not that you mind entirely, because the teasing smile he uses is so, so important to you, and sex feels just like that – the love part, not the disgusting thing. Although, sometimes he can be quite disgusting, yanno. Ah, he just makes you want to skip class and stay in bed beside him all day.

Except, both of you know how bad of an idea that is, with midterms are right around the corner.

Despite that, he spends the night at your apartment again, staying up until 3AM even though he has abnormal psych at 8 on Thursdays.

“I need a study break.”

You roll the cover of your design textbook towards your spiral notebook and toss the pile onto the floor, kicking the blankets off your feet. Yangyang barely spares you a glance, too absorbed in his case study. It is the last of five, and he only has the results, psychometrics, and summary statement left to write for this one before he is completely done for the week. Similarly, you have an exam on Joseon architecture later today and you are a third of a chapter away from catching up on reading, but honestly, fortresses get annoying to look at, especially when you have to compare militia structures against lower-class housing. So, you infiltrate Yangyang’s personal bubble, sliding an arm over his hips and your head into his lap.

“Does this mean I have you join you?” he teases, already putting away his pens. He pushes all his study materials by his feet, never leaning too far up, to keep your head in place. It gets even more comfortable when he relaxes again, resting across the pillows. You close your eyes, melting, when he massages your scalp, like he immediately knows where every knot or corner of tension are.

“I would really appreciate it, if you joined me.” You sigh. His touch is heavenly, and it makes you tighten your arm over his pelvis.

Eventually, Yangyang goes back to his homework, this time reclining in a way that lets you curl into his side. And you aren’t actually asleep, just mildly daydreaming with your eyes shut, thinking about literally anything (Yangyang) other than structures. When he raises a book midair, in front of his face, you move positions, sprawling across his chest, leg coming between his thighs. You (purposefully) annoyingly stick your head under his cheek, to ensure that you, at least, moderately block some of the passage.

Yangyang giggles. “Am I officially joining you now?” He puts his papers on your nightstand and wraps an arm around your shoulders, luring you to his lips. Your leg slithers above the waistband of his joggers, and he helps you straddle him again, sinking into the mattress to get a good view of the way you look in his oversize hood, in only his oversized hoodie. “You’re clingier.”

“Than what?” you ask innocently, rubbing his shirt fabric along his chest. You start pouting, as a response to his silence. Does he not want to cuddle? You shake your head. No, he does, given the way he pushes up the hoodie and yanks you further up his lap. “We cuddle the same amount.” You lower toward his ear, holding his neck in place, and whisper, “Do you not want to? Because I can leave.”

Before you can even think about getting off, he kisses you, sitting up. “Don’t go.” His hands come under your ass, squeezing as your arms circle around his neck. “It’s just –“ He bites his lip, suppressing a whine, which you can feel clog his throat. “You can’t sit on my lap like this. I’m getting hard.”

“Again?” you taunt. He slaps your butt, rather harshly, leaving a warm tingling sensation that he kneads away. You grind into his touch and kiss up his neck. “We can try the Pomodoro method.” You blow into his ear, shakily, as his hand presses particularly rougher. “I’ll set a timer for 25-minutes.” You look at him with chaste, despite the way you are purposefully making his blood rush. His fingers move to the edge of the hood, lifting it slightly. “Think we can have fun in just 25 minutes?”

“Mmmhmm,” he agrees early, nodding his head forward to kiss you. You don’t let him meet you though, not that you think he really noticed, what with being distracted by your very naked legs. He slowly sits up, all the way, and you feel his d!ck twitch against your thighs.

“Or do you think we won’t be able to finish?”

Yangyang throws you onto the bed and removes his shirt in one fell swoop. “Bet?”

“Missionary?” you ask, almost sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re getting more vanilla.”

Yanygyang gasps, then whacks your butt. “Take that back!”

You prop yourself on your elbows, eying all the naked parts of him up and down, from his low waisted briefs to his well-defined pecs to the rather cross sulk on his lip. “Make me.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes away your smirk, displaying it across his face. You tilt your head to the left, expression slacking blankly, but you catch on, feeling his fingers outline your sides. He slips his thumb between your lips, pushing it slowly until you basically give him a finger job, like a preview to the actual head he wants. “You’re already prepped.”

Your eyes flicker up, purely, as if he is about to ruin you for the first time. It’s his favorite part whenever you blow him – you looking into his eyes, taking every inch of him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your lip down until he lets go, your lips smacking together. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling empty, even though neither of you have really done anything yet. “Are you going to fuck me then?” Your voice sounds so harmless, now lacking the bite as you mentally anticipate his d!ck to stretch you open right now. He shakes his head, no. “So what –“

Yangyang spreads your legs a little wider, strictly, darting in the direction of your main bullseye point. His touches remain light and teasing, not getting there yet, responding to all the little mannerisms that make your lower body so rhythmic. He rubs a finger, swirling the ends of his movements to get your hips riding his digits. You whimper breathily, voice cracking at such a high pitch. He sweeps your bottom lip, pressing his tongue softly, making you wish that he would fuck you already. It is insanely evil, for him to give you a preview of the intense foreplay without actually doing it, barely giving you the imagery of it all. You clutch his shoulder, to steady him for a constant kiss and to actually get on his slender fingers. But he never lets you. Instead, he pulls you by your ass, one-handed, forcing you to roll your hips on the silhouette of his d!ck. Fuck, how can you even feel his c.ock? His joggers are so thick. He maintains the stupid, inhumane taunts, kissing the air between you two, caressing everywhere along your hole. A few minutes pass without him changing the routine, so you reverse the positions, throwing him on your mattress and straddling his lap like a stripper. And with almost the same level of experience, or confidence (you hope it’s confidence), you seesaw over his d!ck. He swiftly locks your arms around his neck and his behind your lower back, palming your ass. You look into his eyes for a second, then kiss him roughly, smashing your lips on his.

“You’re. So. Eager. Today,” he says, muddied by elongated spit noises. His eyes are flittered closed as he smiles smugly, accepting your style of manhandling. Your embraces are light and rapid, doing everything in your power to prevent him from straying too far. But his abs get too shaky, too firm, the familiar build up washing over him, so he has to pull away. When he does, you try chasing him and he brushes your hair behind your ear, slowly stroking your jugular vein like ticking baby hairs. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.” You peck his lips, now sitting sticky on his lap. He looks so pretty, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. You just have to kiss him again.

Yangyang bends your back to the comforter, guiding you by the throat, simultaneously pushing his pants mid-thigh, c.ock bouncing more freely. It slaps your p.ussy, naturally twitching aroused. He is so close that when he pumps himself a few strokes, his knuckles rasp along your clit and you buck your hips for more touches. You feel his wet tip run along your slit, and you just know that his hand locks above his balls, right around his base, ready to push in. But you stop him.

“Let me ride you,” you pant, slowly opening your eyes.

He nods his head enthusiastically, and you pop off his head. You turn around, back facing him as you take off the hoodie, leaning down to graze your n!pples on the blanket.

Yangyang wails. “That’s not fair. I want to see.” He takes off his pants, to be as equally naked.

You redirect his attention back to your p.ussy, using your first two fingers to pinch your clitoral hood and gently tug it up and down, over his d!ck as you back into him. He lets out a loud moan at the sight; it takes everything in him to not thrust, listening to your command ordering him to wait. You brush your hair over your shoulder again and look at him behind your shoulder, sultry. Your mood changes are so sexy. His body moves automatically, hunching over your spine to litter you with kisses, his hand trailing behind his saliva. You take that palm and put it on your t!t as you grind his c.ock between your ass cheeks, sliding it to the most sensitive nerves of your p.ussy. He aids your building orgasm with two fingers, leaning his metacarpal inside of your thigh to rub circles specifically under your nub.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, walls throbbing in a vacuum of emptiness, needy.

You sit up and push him onto the pillows by his chest, then reach behind to grab his c.ock erect. His breath thunders, encouragingly. He waits for you to do something, scanning your bare back for every little love bite and mark. You slowly descend and use your knees to bounce, ass swirling between his thighs. Your hips oscillate from outward jumping to figure eights, to rocking sideways. And his favorite position seems to be when you take all of him, gyrating shallowly, letting only about an inch leave your p.ussy before you slam back down on him. You mimic his slaps, taking your hand off his inner thigh to grip your ass, dragging your nails up, leaving a tingling sensation. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head, recording the moment in his brain forever, then slaps your jiggling flesh several times. This position gets his big c.ock deep within your p.ussy, causing his balls to bump against your labia. Then he starts thrusting with you, pounding his hips up.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yanygang. Mmhm.”

He copies your expletives, adding some bad girl’s and other lewd nicknames, before slamming with some finality. You think that he is about to cum, but he withdraws, making you whine sharply. Yangyang flips you onto your back, immediately attacking your chest. His hands support you like a wired bra and shakes them, pushing the pads of his thumbs into your sternum so that your hardened n!pples remain level with his mouth. He licks one lightly, circling around the areola, then latches on, sucking with his tongue flattened under your skin. You arch your back to him, drawing him close. He repeats the action on the other, but longer, as he pinches and kneads your b.oob.

“Come on my d!ck again, you dirty little girl,” he orders, voice low and hoarse.

“Then stop pulling out,” you whisper, similarly breathless.

“Okay.”

You lean away from him, supported with your hands on his thighs, spinning your hips in circles and side to side. His hands squeeze your waist, jostling you to his chest brutally.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, teeth barring before he kisses you again, croaking the moan in your throat. He drags you close, fingers digging into esophagus so that his tongue and reach inside.

Your grip scratches on his triceps, pink lines haunting his skin. You keep bouncing up and down, until his chokehold drops. His mouth falls open, releasing strings of curses after gasps. He spanks you hard, twice, then grips your ass, jerking it savagely. You change the motion, grinding in tiny, little, miniscule circles. Your thighs shiver, your entire body following. He rotates his d!ck, thrusting asynchronously. And you claw through his hair, tugging the strands rougher and rougher as your abdomen keeps tightening.

“Almost, almost,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

Yangyang pulls your bottom lip with his teeth. “Me too.”

You begin slowing down, no longer able to bounce up and down, choosing to rock back and forth. Then, everything stops for just a second, your walls compressing his springy c.ock until you break. All of his muscles grate against you, making you feel each ridge and movement. He follows your orgasm, feeling the way you milk every drop out of him, sucking his entire length balls deep. Your whine sounds like a treble, harmonizing with his lower moan. And you two spend another moment in cowgirl position, collecting your breaths, basically fused together.

“I love you,” Yangyang repeats. Ever since yesterday morning, he has been throwing out the sentiment spontaneously whenever he can: during sex, after sex, while cuddling, in the middle of study dates, behind his cup of coffee at the physics café in the afternoon when no one else is nearby. He follows up with another confession, “I want more than 25-minutes.” And it catches you off guard, considering his previous statement and the other, in the midst of sex, or love making, as some people would call it.

“The 25-minutes is just for right now,” you reassure him, gently patting his cheeks. “We have to study. I still have part of a chapter left to read.”

“Then say it back.”

You pull his face to yours, brushing your noses together. “I love you,” you tell him slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“So, spend the night at my place tomorrow,” he requests. His arms come behind your lower back, his eyes pouting like a lamb.

“Of course,” you answer impulsively, immediately going to kiss him after. Then you pull away, stopping him on the shoulders. “Wait. You have roommates. You have six roommates.”

“Four,” he corrects you – Sicheng graduated last year and moved in with Yuta. “We’ll be fine. Dejun is going with Kun to some conference; I don’t remember what. Hendery is staying at an AirBnB before the EDM festival this weekend. Lucas is …” Yangyang bites his cheek, trying to recall his roomates’ schedules. “I think he’s going on a date. I don’t know, but he bought roses and they’re sitting in the fridge. And Renjun … Renjun …” Yangyang swallows. He almost forgot about the tidbit that he learned at the Halloween party last weekend.

“Renjun what?” you ask, pecking him lightly and chastely.

“Won’t be there either.” Yangyang stops you. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You sense the serious tone and straighten up, clasping your hands around his neck. “What’s up?” you prod slowly.

“Did you really like him?” he questions so softly that you almost do not hear him. “Renjun?” he clarifies after you stay quiet (even though it was just a few seconds).

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, not entirely sure if you even want him to hear you, the ambience settling into something melancholier. “But I love you.”

It seems like he ignores you.

“Why didn’t you get with him?”

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, pulling back, your eyes painfully dry. All the fuzzy spots from your orgasm earlier connect the dots in your head, and you wonder what this is, if he doubts you, doesn’t trust you.

But he agrees, “You’re right. I just … I mean, why are you with me instead?”

“Instead?” you ask. You come back to him – it’s always him, and you hold his face, making him look at you. “I’m not with you instead of Renjun. There’s no compet!tion. I love you,” you enunciate the confession again to really emphasize it.

“But –“

It doesn’t seem to stick. And you sigh with your entire body, slumping away from him. “Does it really bother you that much?” You shift around, biting your lip while his soft c.ock scrambles inside you. He meets your eyes this time, scanning your pupils for more reassurance. “You are kind and smart and hard-working and insanely talented, and … and I love you.” He stays quiet, and you almost throttle him, needing a bit of affection too. “Say it back,” you beg, differently from minutes ago. You drop your forehead on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yangyang seems to understand and reciprocates, “I love you too.”

You pull yourself to face him and beam, mirroring his tender gummy smile. Then, you kiss him again, toppling him into the pillows. He rolls you over, causing you to giggle loudly as he peppers small bites along your cheeks, across your nose, and whispers the same confession on loop.

“I love you,” he ends, kissing you deeply. He comes up for air, inhaling sharply. “So, stay the night with me tomorrow – tonight. At my place.” He brushes your hair away from your face, to get a better look at the sweet glaze in your eyes. You think that you fall in love a little more, especially with all his domestic acts.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.” He nods his head, smiling wider, if possible, and kisses you over and over and over again.

Funny thing about Fridays: Yangyang doesn’t have a morning class, doesn’t have class at all actually; meanwhile, you have another art history class, at eight. The damn class is 90-minutes, so it is held three times a week. His lectures, you recall bitterly, go on for 2-3 hours each, granting him the three day weekend that every college student desires, pushing his classes to the first four business days of the week. That means he can stay up all night Thursday to Saturday, gaming for long hours into the night – not that you get to see it often, because when you do stop by the frat house, you spend time with anyone else. And usually, someone is visiting at the same time. You know, you write yourself into Xiaojun and Sicheng’s pool compet!tion, or watch moves with Lucas, but tonight (really morning, considering that it is 1 A.M.), you sit with Yangyang in his wide gaming chair, thumbing at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (BotW) while he plays Overwatch with Haechan and Jeno. Thankfully, you don’t have any major assignments due later or any in-class presentations, so you can just curl up next to your boyfriend and pull an all-nighter, stealing snacks and drinks from his new mini-fridge so that you can avoid accidentally bumping into one of his roommates. Although, you Uber’ed to his place with a box of friend chicken and side dishes.

After the same gold lynel kills of Link for the third time in a row (the one in the Hebra region, outside the shrine, that has a sword you want), you lazily toss the controller onto his desk. Dying again and again gets frustrating, and you need to relieve the buzz. So, you turn to Yangyang, who looks to be in the middle of a campaign (is that what his levels are called?), and start asking him questions about his video game. Like, you know how sometimes people get so desperately horny that they ask their partner to explain Overwatch to them? Yeah, that is exactly how this feels, as Yangyang’s distracted voice describes his location and next move. And it is no wonder that he is a psych major – he is good at communication.

“What does that character do?” you whisper-ask, while the screen refreshes after he wins a battle.

“That’s an attacker.”

“A huh,” you nod along. You vaguely know what that means, based on the t!tle and all your years of the Club Penguin Card Jitsu game. “And that one?”

Yangyang removes his headset to around his neck and faces you, grinning sideways. “Are we sharing interests right now?” He pushes your legs apart, then straddles you over his thigh. His desk separates you and the game, pressing a fine line between the bones in your spinal cord. He turns the microphone down, muting himself from his friends. It is one thing for the two of you to be alone in the frat house and another for his close friends to physically hear you in his arms. “Or are you just needy for my attention?” Yangyang pulls one hand on your skin, rubbing small soothing circles. “That’s a sign of a relationship, you know.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “Like a date.”

You push him against the chair cushions, scrunching your nose at his laughter. “As if we haven’t done that already,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes for emphasis.

“What?” he asks. “Go on a date?”

You nod your head. Neither of you really call these types of things dates, but they are. Sometimes you also hang out in public, alone, maybe holding hand or kissing, even though lately it seems like you stay inside and study and have sex all the time. Actually, there is a rave going on this weekend with one of your favorite DJs – one shared equally by the two of you. You have yet to invite Yangyang, but now seems like a good time.

“You don’t really care about my games,” he pouts, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you agree, pouting with him. “I don’t speak nerd.”

Yangyang gasps, sitting up straighter. “It’s not a nerd thing! It’s a game of strategy!”

You shake your head, still not understanding. “I don’t speak virgin either.”

He slaps your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Am I supposed to be the virgin, in this scenario?”

“Are you becoming a born-again virgin?”

You shrug. “What would you do if I did?” You completely straddle his lap, scooting up his thighs until his d!ck sits at attention between your abdomens, and you whisper in his ear, “Would you leave me?” You bite his ear, softly licking the external side then blowing on it. “Would you ruin me? Take it away?”

“Virginity is a social construct,” he reminds you, growling. He slips his hands into your underwear. “I’ll ruin you right now.”

Except, another round on his game loads, and you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder opposite the microphone so that he can play, despite the insane wetness soaking your underwear right now. Then, two more games go by and you want his attention. He asked you to stay the night with him, and this doesn’t necessarily feel like that. So, you get off his lap, slithering down his legs onto the ground, onto your knees.

First, you untie his pants and spring his d!ck out. It’s not difficult, because (1) he has pyjama bottoms on, and (2) he manspreads like a motherfucker, giving you easy access. Then, the blow job starts. You lick your palm a couple times and angle his tip in your mouth, starting soft. His legs tense momentarily, making you consider stopping, but a hand appears, pushing you halfway down his length.

“You look so pretty down there, angel.”

He obviously did not actually look at you; you know because he usually makes eye contact when he is close to cumming, enjoying the way your eyes glass over. And because his keyboard continues clicking.

You continue on that way – keeping one hand squeezed halfway down his d!ck; hollowing your cheeks, adding extra suction all over his tip; flattening your tongue on the underside and rolling it like sushi at the very top. Despite his d!ck being fully erect in your mouth, his attention is less than enthusiastic, fingers working diligently on those numbers. It gives you an idea. You start bobbing your head faster, in tune with his typing, egged on by his compet!tiveness. And when his voice goes up an octave, your grip gets tighter, only slacking when you drop back down halfway. His groan echoes in your ear, sounding like he lost (whatever that means), so you pull off. He breathes a little bit harder after the smacking sound falls from your lips, preceding all the fluttering little kisses down his shaft. You hold his d!ck up and lick one stripe up between his balls, and he shouts at his friends:

“Alright! I’m done for the night. Play tomorrow. Bye!”

Yangyang pulls you to your feet, standing with you. He scans your eyes, pulling you closer and closer, debating whether to kiss you or not; he never really kisses you after you suck his d!ck, unless he eats you out too.

“Bed now,” he orders you in whispers, patting your butt a little too hard. You fall onto his queen-sized mattress stomach down, bouncing with his fluffy duvet. He kneels next to you, lifting his sweater off your thighs and spanking you again, three times. Each smack precedes a loud, high-pitched gasp. “You’re so needy.”

“Fuck,” you mutter at a particularly hard hit, his hand slipping to the wet p.ussy lips that need some friction. “Is that a bad thing?”

A door shuts loudly down the hall, making you two straighten up in attention. You prop yourself forward on your elbows, staring at the door. Yangyang watches your reaction, his ears alert and back facing the door. You hear Hendery walking up the stairs, something jangling with him, like keys or plates. A second pair of feet march with him, making you look at Yangyang. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head; he thought everyone was going to be gone this weekend, which does not apparently start on Fridays for his roommates.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” he whispers. This is nothing new. The two of you constantly fuck, like rabbits, regardless if anyone can hear you, but Hendery is two rooms down and Yangyang is sliding two fingers knuckle deep until hitting the urethral sponge. His curling has your thighs tensing to the point of shaking. As he settles between your legs (not letting up on the pressure), he taps your sternum twice, telling you to keep still and quiet.

But you moan. It just comes out, not something that you can control. Especially when he nips all around your clit, lip biting at your skin and sucking small bruises. He keeps going like this, nodding his head for more vibrations everywhere except the most sensitive spot. Your breath gets more labored, breaking loudly.

“You need to be quieter,” he reminds you.

“Mmm, I can’t. You’ll have to move slower.”

Yangyang speeds up his fingers. “Not a chance.” He swipes his thumb across your clit once, then twice, then harder, giving it a little pinch. “Even if you cum, I’m still going.”

You whine, disagreeing. “Mmm mmm, you can’t say things like that. Fuck –“ He starts crawling over your body, peppering light touches along your stomach, around your b.oobs, above your collarbone. “- I want to cum.” You mewl, again frustrated, because he pulls his fingers out. He gestures you to shush, putting them in your mouth. With his hands occupied around your face and throat, his d!ck jostles, sliding between your p.ussy lips without actually entering. “Please,” you beg, “I want to cum so bad.”

“Ugh,” Yangyang moans in your ear, this time guiding himself inside your warm and aching hole. “I know,” he tells you. “I can feel it.” He rotates onto his side, propping up one of his legs to get into an easier position where he can pound you better. You grab one of the pillows, briefly arresting it with your nails acting like handcuffs before settling it under your oblique. The new angle puts Yangyang right back at your G-spot, his tip abusing the sponge harshly. “You’re milking my c.ock, huh? You’re – You want me so bad, huh?”

“Mm hmm, yeah,” you agree. His gaze fixates on the way your ass claps against his pelvis. He doesn’t even have to lead you anymore; you start backing up on him, motivated the rougher he tugs your hair. “Please, please,” you chant in whispers. He spreads your cheeks, obsessed with the disappearing act you pull, needing to see it more.

“Fuck,” he groans. He cups your b.oob off the mattress, supporting the other one with his arm, and pinches at your n!pple, swirling it around between his thumb and index finger. “Come on, pretty girl. You need to cum?” You nod your head fervently, face warming intensely. “So, cum on my c.ock. You can do it; come on.” He drops your chest for your neck, pushing your head into the blankets so he can kiss you again, incoherently vibrating broken praises on your lips.

“Yangyang, Yangyang, I’m – I’m – Harder, please. I’m so – Oh, fuck.”

He moans your name seconds after, spilling into your pulsating core, and relaxes, chest falling into an equilibria rhythm with yours. His c.ock softens, finishing its workout, so you swing your leg away from him and spin around, placing a hand on his chest. You stare at him for a little bit, like watching the sun set. He peaks an eye open, then closes it quickly, teasing you because he knows that you saw it.

“You’re going to get cross-eyed staring at me,” Yangyang jokes.

“Then let me get cross-eyed,” you counter, slithering an arm under his head like a neck cushion.

“That’s disgusting.”

You scoff, pulling on the ends of his hair. “You’re disgusting.”

He smacks your butt lightly. It is definitely his favorite punishment. “And you can call it a kink, fyi.” He opens his eyes in time to see you pout, and in return, he pecks your lips, pulling away just as fast.

You look over his shoulder at the time: 2 A.M. and bury your face in his chest. “We need to stop sleeping so late. My body can’t handle this.”

“My body can handle yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though he would not be ready to go again, at least for twenty minutes.

You chew on your lip a little bit, then repeat a post-sex tradition (well, it has essentially become a tradition this week). “Can I ask you a question?”

Yangyang kisses your shoulder, wrapping a leg around yours to keep you locked nearby. “Of course, anything.”

“Do you want to go to the rave with me, this weekend?”

“Like,” he processes, still hidden the crevice of your neck, “as in a date?” He lays across your arm, and you notice the glint in his eye. “Are you asking me out? I was supposed to do that!”

“Oh?” you return the tease. “We can just not go then, and I’ll wait for you to ask me out.” You start getting up, but he drags you back down, tugging specifically on your hand. He kisses you as a confirmation that yes, he wants to go; he wants nothing more than to go on a real date with you.

#wayv #nct yangyang #wayv yangyang #yangyang #yangyang smut #wayv smut #nct smut #yangyang fluff #wayv fluff #nct fluff #yangyang imagines #yangyang x reader #liu yangyang #wayv imagines #nct imagines #wayv scenarios #nct scenarios #/mine

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babytsum · 4 years ago

Text

relax

you treat tobio for his birthday.

pairing: kageyama tobio x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: soft(ish) smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, creampie, tit job, oral (m receiving), overstimm, size kink, squirting (if you squint), cockwarming, praise kink, more implied sex, mention of a spit kink, h*nd holding LMAO

(a/n): this fic is dedicated to one of my dear moots, @solelytobios, a fellow tobio simp, and beta read by @sakusas-personal-hole (thx a bunch!!!) happy birthday to my lil baby, talented setter, tobio :D

warm skin, soft lips.

your movements are languid, from the moment you pull off his practice sweats to the moment your tongue flicks up to tease his slit. he looks down at you with dilated pupils, resisting the urge to push your head down his shaft, letting you do the work as you had insisted when he got home. his head is thrown back, hands carding through your hair as you look back up with teary eyes.

under the jersey that flows past your knees, you're completely bare.

the feeling of your wet cavern is gone and he whines, but before he can process your next move, his jersey is already thrown somewhere on the floor, his dick already resting between the valley of your breasts, already lubricated with a mix of your saliva and his precum. it allows him to fuck your tits with ease.

he thrusts upwards on instinct and you silently forgive him, pressing a small kiss on the head. "just relax, tobio, okay?"

"okay."

and so you squeeze your breasts together, the gap between them stuffed full of his thick cock, pre cum dripping down the shaft. he squirms at the image of your lips sucking on the pretty pink tip, tits pushed together, and it's all enough to make him cum alone. he thinks he's about to burst.

tobio looks so handsome like this, you think. his hands desperately gripping the sheets, saliva spilling out of his lips, thighs flexing with each stroke of your breasts. the flesh is soft and warm, easy to slip through, and they feel so tight around him. you fasten your pace, determined to make him spill his seed, but his hand grips your shoulder, a silent plea to stop. "tobio?" you ask worriedly, "did i hurt you? i'm sorry i-"

"no, you didn't do anything wrong," he struggles to find the right words, his mind still hazy from how good you made him feel, "i- i just want to cum in you."

your eyes soften at his words before you reposition, quickly lining him up with your entrance and sinking down, adjusting to the painful stretch. even after all this time, you still struggle to take all of him in, no matter how wet you are. he's huge and the tip bumps at the entrance of your cervix every time. but he's always patient, letting you take your time so that he can pound into you with ease later. the stretch burns, your little hole doing its best to accommodate for his fat cock.

but all he can think about is the way you treated him so well with your tits.

and so he's quick to flip you over, stuffing your tight pussy full, relishing in the way you're already creaming and clenching erratically around him. pleasure washes over your body with one direct hit towards your sweet spot. "i can't believe you already came." he mutters, pulling out completely, covered in your slick. he's surprised, but his cheeks are hot and he's proud. "that easy?"

"it's because your dick is too big, tobio!" you respond, slightly embarrassed, and he smirks, "well, i need to cum, too, right? it's my birthday after all."

tobio doesn't let you respond, instead pulling your thighs until your body slides towards him. your lower body is lifted off the bed, one hand holding your waist with a harsh grip, his cock sliding back into your wet cunt and brushing against your g spot. you feel like toy when he fucks into you relentlessly, sounds of slapping skin feeling the air, sloshing noises produced by your juices.

"you're taking me so well," he rambles, "such a good girl." you respond with a moan, nails digging into his shoulders when he leans down to suck on your wet tits. his teeth brush against your nipple and the feeling shoots to your core, your walls clamping down on him. he's intoxicated and his breath is heavy, the only thing on his mind is the high he's chasing and the way you make him feel.

by now, you're well on your way to another orgasm, your mind cloudy with euphoria as he pounds into your quivering, fucked out hole. the familiar knot builds in your stomach and unwinds while you gush all over him, slick spilling onto your sheets.

but he hasn't come yet.

and the overstimulation hurts, but you endure his pace because it's tobio and you love him. you look down, his face buried in your the soft mounds on your chest. he sucks, licks, and bites at the little nubs while your thighs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer and closer until it's hard to move. you feel impossibly tight and he doesn't know how much longer he'll last.

wanting more friction, he positions you until your knees are pinned to your chest, allowing him to hit even deeper. at this angle, it feels like your guts are being rearranged. his balls slap harshly against your ass while you're practically folded in half. your mind is empty, your lips are parted open and when his fingers find your clit, you're filled with intense bliss. when you look down again, you're met with the sight of his shaft disappearing in and out of your aching pussy. the only thing you can do is chant his name over and over again until he reaches his own high. little praises and moans spill from his lips as your tiny cunt squeezes around him.

thick, long fingers interlock with yours, keeping you grounded as tobio stills and fills your creamy, fluttering cunny to the brim with his warm seed.

he flips you over, resting on his back while you lay down on his chest. his cock softens inside of you and you close your eyes, enjoying the feel of your bare chest on his, strong arms surrounding your body. but eventually, someone has to get up and cook dinner.

you pepper his face with kisses until he groans tiredly, "you already want more?" you slap his chest, "no, dumbass! i have to go cook dinner!"

"i'm not hungry."

"i'm not hungry either."

"welp," he holds your body closer before slipping out of your entrance, "can we have hot coco?"

you nod excitedly, quickly slipping on his jersey before limping to the kitchen as fast as you can. you immediately pull out a pot, turn on the stove, and pour in the milk while tobio stumbles his way there in only his sweats. "how chocalatey do you want it to be?"

"yes."

you laugh before pouring in another packet and stirring it in with the milk. the sound of your humming fills the room before tobio speaks up again, "you really came faster than hinata sprints, huh?"

"shut up!" you turn off the stove and pour in the hot liquid into two mugs, "i won't hesitate to spit in your hot coco."

"i'd still drink it."

you roll your eyes, sitting on the counter while tobio watches you enjoy the drink from his seat at the table. he puts down his mug, walking towards you until he's between your legs, "t-tobio! we just fucked like five minutes ago! your cum is still in me as we speak!"

"i'll just fuck it back into you, i guess." he shrugs casually. your cheeks heat up at the prospect and you try your best not to squeal.

"tobio, you can't just say shit like that-" he immediately shuts you up with a wet kiss and you melt into the feeling. his hand peaks underneath his jersey, a thick finger collecting up the essence of your tiny hole. "it's my birthday after all." he says and you laugh, unaware of how fast he's pulled down his sweats.

your giggles are cut off by his fat length splitting you in half once again.

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hardskz · 5 years ago

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bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh.

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.” Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him.

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste.

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!”

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record.

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.”

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize.

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II.

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories.

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade).

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong.

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long.

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table.

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall.

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back.

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers.

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly.

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed.

“Don’t wanna come like this—”

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.”

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants.

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace.

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

#yes the ending is rushed oops sue me #may consider part 2 so heads up #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #smut.mine #dom!chan #sub!reader #crispy.txt

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crystxlclear · 4 years ago

Text

you’re just like an angel (your skin makes me cry)

a sudden desire oneshot

masterlist // sudden desire chapter one

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

words: 4.4k

synopsis: coraline and marcus go to a halloween party. pining ensues.

set in the future, in comparison to the current sudden desire timeline, after coraline accepts that suggestion

warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF SWEET SWEET FLUFF, mutual pining (more so from marcus, unintentionally, though?), alcohol consumption/slight alcohol intoxication, established relationship

author’s note: you don’t need to have read sudden desire to understand this! (but please do)

this was meant to come out on halloween but i am a terrible procrastinator. but i mean this was too cute not to post? so i hope you all accept my extremely belated spooky-season offering. expect more of this sweet beautiful soft fluff when we get more into sudden desire, when we get to the baby-making stage (i gotta make up for the lack of smut somehow). This is really nothing of significance or particularly interesting, except i just wanted to write something halloween-ish

also it’s kind of obvious and i have mentioned it here and in previous sudden desire chapters but daniel is coraline’s brother and kimmy is his wife/cora’s sister-in-law, they’re in the next chapter!

not beta’d because i have no friends to read it lmao

Coraline doesn’t usually go out on Halloween. Those evenings are usually spent curled up on the sofa, cocooned beneath her comforter, watching the entire Scream series back-to-back. It had become somewhat of a ritual, those films. Sat in the comfortable dark while she practically quoted the film back at the TV screen. An annual event since she was ten, when she’d managed to convince her dad to let her watch the first three films while her mom was out with friends. Her DVD copies were almost two decades old, now.

It must have taken something, or someone, special to break a habit so ingrained, a years-old routine.

That was the moment Daniel Meyer knew, beyond all doubt, that Coraline Meyer looked at Marcus Pike as more than just a friend.

Sure, she denies it. Sure she’s too damn stubborn to admit it, even to him. But for someone to pull Cora from her Scream-filled Halloween night bubble, it must take a lot. He isn’t blind, either. He’s seen the looks they give each other - those fleeting looks, a flush of red creeping to their cheeks whenever they glance between each other for a moment, that soft lingering smile on her face when she arrives at his house after a day spent with him - and he’s spent hours in his living room listening to her recall stories and gush about him like he hung all the stars in the night sky.

Daniel Meyer knows his sister well enough to know that she only has eyes for him.

He’d been surprised when she’d rung him that Thursday morning, bright and early as the sun continued to rise high in the sky, proclaiming that she was, in fact, coming to their Halloween party. That surprise had disappeared, however, the second she’d mentioned Marcus was coming, too. He’d laughed and she’d asked why but he wouldn’t tell her, amusement peaking the moment he heard his name. It’s brilliant and he should have known, really. Of course, he should have known.

...

Coraline tugs awkwardly on the costume. It’s cheap and uncomfortable and she’d bought it last minute from some poorly-lit store in the city. It’s that cheap, plastic-like material that clings to your figure in the most unforgiving places, places it shouldn’t yet somehow moulds to. She’s just glad she didn’t pick one of the skimpier ones she’d tried, the ones that rested far too high on her thighs and squeezed her torso so tightly it felt like she was wearing a corset. She felt like she was about to burst straight through the thin material. Instead, she’d gone for the far more family-friendly option.

Skimpy outfits aren’t a good idea for a family Halloween party.

Though, even in the most modest costume she can find, she’s still pretty sure that she looks utterly ridiculous.

But that’s part of the charm though, right?

The costume she’s settled on is slightly more modest than the rest, now that she’s fished out those stupidly expensive thigh-high boots she’d bought for a red carpet event once, that rise just high enough to conceal the ridiculous amount of leg on show. Any other night, she wouldn’t mind in the slightest, but they tones the outfit down enough that she’s positive she won’t offend the eyes of the conservative parents whose kids run around with her nephews.

It’s not a big deal. She doesn’t particularly care. She only cares what Marcus thinks.

If he likes it, who cares what anyone else thinks.

The least-revealing costume in the store happened to be that of a special agent or a spy or something like that. It’s a little... on-the-nose. Still, she figures it’s fitting.

The dress’ weird vinyl material that creaks and squeaks whenever she moves and there’s a pair of flimsy plastic handcuffs strapped through the belt loops along with an already half-worn away sheriff’s badge that shines dully under the soft light of her bedroom. It’s cheap - anyone can tell that - but the whole thing has been last-minute, Marcus trying his hardest for a solid month to persuade her to abandon her tradition and come to the party with him. Only for him. Only him.

She truly does love Halloween. And Fall is her favourite time of year. But she’d spent all week at Halloween parties with her castmates and friends - late night all weeks, far too much alcohol, far too many times hearing The Monster Mash playing insistently over loudspeakers - and, come Halloween night, the only thing she wanted to do was order pizza and indulge in her yearly marathon. She’s done that elaborate costume stuff all week, a thousand different costumes adorning her body, and pyjamas sound far more inviting. Halloween night is for relaxing, she thinks. If it weren’t for Marcus Pike, it would remain exactly that.

She’s still fussing over the ever-rising hem of her dress and thinking of just staying home when the doorbell rings, loud and imposing, almost scaring her as its shrill chimes cut through the soft music playing over her speakers. She huffs out a sigh of resignation, giving up on any hope she has of making herself feel better about what she’s wearing.

Marcus is standing at the door with a bottle of red wine in hand and a smile on his face. That smile falters when he sees her, for just long enough for her to think about running back upstairs and changing into something different. His parted lips finally form around the words his awestruck brain is fighting hard to form: “You look… -good.” It’s all he can muster. And he sounds pathetic.

“... Thanks?”

He shakes his head clear, that initial shock of seeing her looking so damn good dissipating the second she notices his wide eyes and drops her head back as she laughs. The long line of her neck sparkles under the warm flickering candlelight of her living room, thanks to that body lotion she wears. “You look great,” he insists.

She bites her lip as his eyes scan her figure from head to toe. She catches his eyes but she doesn’t mind one bit. She’s doing the same thing. And it’s infuriating because she’s unable to stop.

Of course Marcus looks good. Of course he does, because he always does. Even in sweats and a t-shirt, when she bursts through his door at 7am, coffee in hand, far too wide awake for the early hours of a morning. When he’s still half-asleep. He still looks good. He even looks good now, in a cheap vampire’s cape and plastic fangs. Perhaps it’s the all-black, his shirt stretched taut across his chest or the leather jacket he wears that fits him so well.

Or, maybe, it’s just the slightly goofy grin he wears when he sees her laugh, dressed in her costume and swinging her handcuffs on the end of her finger, and the way his lips puff out a little when they fall over the edge of the fake fangs.

She means to tell him just how good he looks but he speaks before she can.

“I brought wine.” He notes. He lifts the bottle - she’s pretty sure it’s expensive, but she knows absolutely nothing about wine - and she squints at the label, a half-hearted attempt at pretending she knows what all those words mean. She has no idea.

She doesn’t even need to invite him inside, he just follows when she turns and makes a beeline for the kitchen. “Daniel will never let you inside with that,” she calls over her shoulder. Her eldest brother has hated wine since his wedding, when his best man had thrown up on his shoes outside the hotel that night, after one too many glasses. It was partly Coraline’s fault, though; they’d been drinking and laughing at the bar the entire night, the bartender plying them with drink after drink until someone hauled them outside to get some fresh air. Daniel had been pissed that his best friend and the smart and suited man behind the bar had been supplying his nineteen-year-old sister with copious amounts of alcohol, though he quickly forgave them at breakfast the next morning when their hangovers were so bad, they had to wear sunglasses indoors.

“Lucky for you-” She pushes up on her tiptoes and reaches to the back of the kitchen cupboard. She can feel the breeze on the back of her thighs and she hopes to god that her skirt doesn’t push up too far and reveal too much. A few moments clattering around blindly, she returns to two feet with two wine glasses. “-my brother is used to me being late.”

Marcus is already fishing for the corkscrew in the cutlery draw before she's even turned around. He swiftly pops the cork and is there waiting when Coraline sets the glasses between them.

“Here’s to being late,” he proposes, holding his glass up for her to clink after he pours them both a generous glass.

Here’s to being late.

...

They do turn up late. Two-hours late, to be exact. A little too tipsy. Or, at least, Coraline is. She’s in that semi-blissful state, caught somewhere between content happiness and that point where he knows she usually starts to cry, before the giggles force their way out and she’s hiccupping through adorable sobs of indistinguishable hysteria.

He’s only seen her like that once after a particularly bad fight over the phone with Scott. And, while she’d insisted that the whole thing was hilarious, he never wanted to see her like that again.

But, at least for now, they’re both smiling.

And Marcus isn’t sure how anyone can be mad at Coraline when she’s smiling.

It seems like the rest of the street is having parties, too. The entire row of closely packed townhouses and luxury condos are humming with life; pop songs and fluorescent lighting fill the street. It feels like they’re in a movie, endless decoration spilling to the sidewalk, waterfalls of orange, black and purple. Everything is garishly bright and confused, all mismatched shapes and colours - surrealism, like a Dali painting, exaggerated and unusual and unnatural. It’s strange to see the neighbourhood like this, with its usually-pristine gardens, turned fantastical.

The smell of the Potomac River drifts along the street, swirling in the gentle late-October breeze. It dances with the charred scent of fireworks that lingers low in the air, cinnamon and herbs, and the smell that lingers before the rain. It intertwines to make Halloween, in all its ghoulish glory. Yet, despite it all, the only thing he can smell is her perfume. It lingers on the breeze.

Coraline walks just ahead of him; she’s skipping down the street, light on her feet, her black heels cutting a rhythmic beat through the hum of the street as it comes alive. There’s been a smile on her face since they left her apartment, that bright blissful buzz of wine pulsing through her veins, and she looks no different from the kids and the teenagers that weave through the cars lining the street. She’s been holding his hand since they left, too. Tightly, like if she lets go, he’ll disappear.

But he would never. He could never leave her.

She’s his best friend.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she calls back to him as they near Coraline’s brother’s house. It’s the same as the rest of the houses on the street: lighting flashes through the windows - orange and white and purple, casting shapes across the front yard, the yard that’s draped in Halloween decorations - and the soft hum of music pumped through the half-open front windows.

She turns to watch him, walking backwards, still holding his hand. He’s taller than her, even in her heels, so she glances up at him with a pout on her red lips. There’s a little bit of awe in his chest as he watches her navigate the cobblestones blindly, not even faltering on her heels once. She wears Halloween so well. She makes the party store costume look better than it has any idea being. Those that pass - kids, teenagers, their parents, varying degrees of effort in their costumes - watch as they walk, when she pokes a long nail at his chest. “You’re to blame.”

“It’ll be fun, love.” He poses.

She raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Oh, really?” Coraline turns to glare at him. “Dressed like this?” She gestures to herself and the dress she feels completely ridiculous wearing. “I don’t think so.”

“But that’s the point of Halloween.”

She notices the way his brown eyes sparkle beneath the moonlight.

Cora hums in contemplation. “I still can’t believe you talked me into this.” She repeats, but there’s a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“You’ll get over it.”

...

Three hours into the party and Coraline disappears. One moment, she’d been swaying with her nephew, Elliot, to Fleetwood Mac, grinning and giggling as she spun him from side-to-side in her arms. Marcus had watched her from the refreshment table in the corner, engaged in a half-idle conversation with Cora’s sister-in-law, Kimmy, as she cleared the dirty plates and refreshed the chips. He thinks she noticed him watching her but she’s far too polite to say anything if she did. She just seemed to hum knowingly and sweep away towards the kitchen as he watched Coraline twirl gracefully to the soft melody of Dreams.

She’d brought a jacket with her, the cold creeping in right as they’d made to leave the house, and the loose fabric brushed against her legs as she swayed on her heels. The breeze that wandered through the open living room window billowed beneath it. She looked ethereal like that; all beautiful and glowing and bright, basking in the vibrant flashing lights and overly-gaudy Halloween decorations that don’t quite fit the gentle songs that float through the room. Coraline had been deep in conversation with a seemingly endless stream of Daniel and Kimmy’s friends and there had been a tense set to her brow as a consequence. Now, she looks jovial and carefree and relaxed. The wine they’d drunk before they arrived - and the bottle she and Kimmy had been sneaking in the corner of the room, giggling like school girls as they filled their cups whenever Daniel wasn’t looking - probably helped her on her way but it’s refreshing to see her like this. Happy.

So much for someone convinced she wouldn’t have fun.

Marcus turned to grab another drink as the song finished, fading away into the next, and within a moment she was gone, lost in the slowly thinning crowd that danced through the living room. The two-year-old that had previously been in her arms was halfway across the room, tugging on his father’s Batman costume. The crowd that seemed to part for her and her giggling nephew had thickened again, spilling over the dancefloor where she’d spun moments earlier.

He finally finds her perched on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth idly, staring out at the Potomac River as the moon sparkles across its surface. There’s a paper plate of chocolate cake perched on her knees, stolen from the one Kimmy had taken from the buffet table earlier in the night. She prods at it absentmindedly with a fork, smearing the purple and orange frosting across the plate like she’s painting on a canvas. Pale moonlight scatters across her face; her eyelashes cast gentle arching silhouettes beneath her eyes and sloping shadows across the soft lines of her cheekbones.

She doesn’t hear him at first. The music, Creep by Radiohead, plays in the living room. He knows most of the words to the song because Coraline has played it on vinyl so many times in the late evenings of summer, when the windows are open the whole way and the curtains billow in the breeze. Her brother has good taste, just like her; the pleasant nostalgia of eighties rock pouring through the speakers. It’s muffled by the closed door of the kitchen, slightly broken door that he’d offered to fix the first time he’d been for lunch jammed shut to allow her some peace and quiet.

He enters as quietly as he can but the music spikes through the doorway when he opens it and draws her attention away from the glittering ripple of the water. She smiles fondly when she sees him, for a moment, and her head turns back to the view from the kitchen window.

“You okay?” He asks. He settles in front of her, leaning back against the island opposite her. “You wandered off.”

She doesn’t seem upset. Her expression is soft and content. “I’m alright,” she insists.

The kitchen is quiet.

The world seems so far away.

Everything that has happened before and everything that might happen after that moment doesn’t matter.

Everything will be alright.

Coraline huffs out a laugh and closes her eyes, tilting her head back to let the cool breeze of the open window sweep over her bare neck. “Just needed a bit of quiet. It’s a little-“ She makes a motion with her hands, almost like she’s strangling someone. Somehow, it makes sense to him. “-full-on in there.”

Marcus watches her. His dark gaze flickers across her face as she carries on kicking her legs gently back and forth, manoeuvring himself so the toe of her boot doesn’t slam into his shin. The world just carries on around them; the party continues in the living room, the music continues playing and everyone else moves on with their lives as Marcus and Coraline exist in that quiet moment where nothing but each other matters.

There’s a brief beat of silence filled by gentle guitars and soft lyrics.

She’s watching the water in awe. He’s watching her the same way.

You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry.

“Cake?” She offers out half-heartedly after a moment’s contemplation, soft green eyes drawing back to his face. An affectionate smile tugs at her lips.

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Thank god.” The smile widens to a grin and she puffs out a small giggle. “You would have broken my heart if you’d said yes.” She hums as she brings a forkful of the cake to her lips, savouring the sweet taste on her lips. Her tongue darts out delicately to chase the remains. Her lipstick leaves a red spider web across the fork.

He won’t, but he’s never wanted to kiss her more than in that moment. The world stops for a moment when she meets his gaze as she does it, peeling her eyes away, cheeks flushing slightly. He won’t, but, god, he thinks she’s lovely. He won’t kiss her. Kissing her on the cheek or the nose or the forehead, that’s different. It’s familiar. It’s welcomed with a smile and she does the same to him, sometimes. Kissing her for real. That’s entirely different. He doesn’t kiss her unless she asks him to. Until she wants him to.

Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want.

“That good, huh?”

She nods. “I don’t know where Kimmy buys it from but it’s incredible.”

“Hmm, maybe I will take some.” He reaches for her plate but she tugs it away, a mock-offended expression on her face.

“Hey!” She pouts. “Pretty sure that’s theft, Marcus Pike. Don’t make me arrest you.” She chides, patting the plastic handcuffs that rattle against her belt.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with the authority to actually arrest someone,” Marcus attests, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.

“Not tonight.” She hums, tapping a nail against the badge that rests against her chest. She tilts her head and a bright smile crosses her red lips. She wears that gentle glow of wine across her cheeks, all pink and rosy. Coraline reaches up to card her fingers through the curls at the back of his head. Marcus sighs at the feeling of her nails scraping across the scalp at the nape of his neck. She leans closer for a second, so close that he can feel the warmth of her breath fan across his cheeks. Her eyelashes dip as she traces patterns across his scalp and dances the digits over her other hand up the bare expanse of his arm, prickled in goosebumps from the light scrape of her nails. There’s a blissful haze that passes her expression when she glances back out across the moon-drenched river. His breath hitches in his throat whenever she touches him like that. Whenever there’s intended intimacy behind it. That comfort that settled between them long ago.

Coraline doesn’t even realise she’s doing it, sometimes. It feels like second nature, now.

She can feel her cheeks burning at the thought of it all.

She pulls her hand away from him all too soon. Marcus thinks about chasing her hand, pulling it back to hold him again with the lightest of touches. But he lets her go. Again. The moonlight casts silver shadows across her face like some kind of goddamn angel basking in the light. Instead, he just watches her as she picks the paper plate of cake back up, brings up another forkful and smiles in delight at the taste.

“Oh, really?” He answers in response to her earlier words, realising he’s spent far too much time watching her than he should. His hand brushes the outside of her knee before it comes to rest on the kitchen counter beside her leg. It’s unintentional. At least, he thinks.

You’re so fucking special. I wish I was special.

“Cora-“ He calls to catch her attention again. She turns her head to face him, her eyebrows raised a little in expectancy and surprise. “-you’ve got some frosting-“ Marcus swipes at the side of his mouth, where Coraline has a spot of purple frosting clinging to the corner of her lips, blemishing the otherwise-perfect red-paint.

He steps forward again, reaching his thumb up to swipe the frosting away. She watches his movements at first, before her gaze focuses intently on his face and the dark-eyed gaze that follows the slow movements of his thumb. When he moves to pull it away, to wipe in on a piece of kitchen towel, she reaches for it, pressing the frosting-covered pad of his thumb against her lips.

She grins around it when her eyes widen, swiping her tongue over the soft flesh, before pulling it back slowly. There’s a ring of red lipstick around his thumb. Her voice is low when she speaks, in tone and volume. She peers up at him through her lashes. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t know what she was doing. “You can’t let good frosting go to waste.”

He wants to swear. He needs to. Because all he can think of, right now, is kissing her. Again. He wants to taste the frosting still lingering on her tongue and he wants that red lipstick to stain his lips. He wants her hands in his hair, tugging and twisting as he presses his mouth to hers and he wants to feel her smile against him when the way she pulls him closer makes him groan.

He wants to feel all that he can barely have. He wants the memories that linger when he’s in bed without her at his side, when their insane agreement isn’t in action. He wants more than fleeting moments. He wants it all.

But he’s just being selfish.

And, besides, she doesn’t want that, either. Not now. Not here.

“Do you want to leave?” It’s intended to be an innocent question. But, with all those thoughts and those hidden desires, with all those feelings he isn’t positive are anything more than shallow, unrequited and completely ridiculous and the swipe of her velvet-soft tongue over the pad of his thumb, it sounds loaded. He’s breathless. He groans to himself and steps back from her.

Coraline doesn’t fail to notice the way his fingers skim the bare expense of her outer thigh when he moves. She half-wonders what he’s implying with it. She never knows what’s intentional between them anymore. She thinks it probably has meaning; she had his thumb between her lips just moments before. She isn’t even sure what she was implying.

“We can get pizza.”

“Pizza, huh?” She hums in contemplation, but there’s no decision to be made. In her mind, she’s already said he’s a thousand times, and she’s been ready to say yes since the moment they stepped through Daniel’s front door. As much as she loves Daniel and Kimmy and her niece and nephews, nothing sounds better than pizza on the couch with Marcus. “What kind of pizza?” She toys, musing the image over in her mind, finishing off the last mouthful of cake, already missing the sweet frosting.

But, intentional or not, goosebumps prickle across her skin.

He’s leaning closer, now. He can’t help it. She draws him in with that damn smile. “Veggie.”

Her favourite.

“Tempting.”

“Very tempting.”

“From the pizza place on Pennsylvania?” Her eyes light up at the prospect. Her back straightens and they’re looking each other in the eyes.

Marcus brushes a thumb across her knee. Coraline tries her best to hide the shudder that threatens to pull through her at his touch. Heat pools in her stomach and her chest and her breath hitches in her throat. “Where else?”

She groans, small and breathy, pushing its way from her mouth, almost like she’s been winded. Her eyes close over. Her eyelids flutter. Her head is swimming from the wine she’s drunk, head buzzing with that pleasant intoxication as the alcohol sweeps through her. She can’t help it. She can’t stop it. But she can’t tell whether it’s a response to the promise of her favourite pizza or the feeling of his warm palm against her leg. She doesn’t particularly want to know. But she brushes it off as the wine. It makes more sense.

It’s a little embarrassing.

Her eyes open again and he’s still looking at her, expectation and gentility in his gaze. “And garlic bread?”

He smirks in amusement. “Whatever you want, Cora.” His thumb brushes over her knee again. “Whatever you want.”

She grins. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t,” Marcus insists. He steps back from the counter and she slips off, smoothing out her dress and shucking her jacket around herself as the wind casts a shiver across her skin.

“Can I at least change first?”

He exhales a laugh through her nose. “Nope.”

“Oh, Marcus, come on!” She groans. His hand slips into hers; her delicate fingers curl around his, her palm soft against his work-calloused hands. “I look ridiculous.”

“It’s Halloween, love.” The pet name makes her legs feel weak. His voice is low and affectionate when he turns back towards her. He ducks his head and kisses her cheekbone. He lingers to whisper in her ear: “And you look hot.”

#sudden desire #sudden desire oneshot #oneshot #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike x original character #marcus pike x female reader #halloween #pedro pascal #original character

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shittyelfwriter · 6 years ago

Text

Scandalous

Pairing: Cas x fem!reader

Word count: 5400-ish (oof)

Summary: set during 14x15 “Peace of Mind”. When reader accompanies Castiel and Sam to the town of Charming Acres, both she and Sam succumb to its influence—and since Cas can’t seem to convince “Justin” to snap out of his daze, he’s forced to take some unorthodox methods with you, the “town librarian”.

Warnings: This is definitely a smut add on to an episode. Got some mild grace!kink, semi-public sex, stranger!kink (if that’s a thing? I don’t know lmao.) 18+ only please! Some language on reader’s part is dated to fit the theme.

A/N: I couldn’t help but laugh at the old fashioned values and the thought of how that would affect a cas x reader dynamic. Also as a side note, reader’s behavior and outfit is definitely inspired by Evie from The Mummy (even though the time frame is a bit off for the fashion, it’s what I had in mind while writing, hence the gif!)

More of my writing (masterlist)

It was an ordinary morning in Charming Acres for you, and began like any other that you remembered. You’d gotten dressed, gotten a coffee from Harrington’s and then headed to open the library, like you did every morning at 7 am, other than Sundays—goodness knows you couldn’t work on the Lord’s day.

It had been quiet most of the hour you’d been there, reshelving books that had been returned after closing the day before, when a man rushed into the library looking windswept and bedraggled. So this was the agent that everyone was talking about around town! You’d admit you had been curious, since any man that was a new face was something to wonder at. Most of the single men in town frequented the library to flirt, or bring flowers, or ask you on dates. But they bored you, honestly. You wanted something more adventurous, like you read about so often. And something about the way this man swept into your library gave you that theatrical rush of excitement like in the films. He was very handsome, after all; the sight of him making your pulse flutter. You turned away from him for a moment, hands over your chest.

“Goodness,” you exclaimed quietly, wondering why he set your heart going so. It was like something out of a novella! But you didn’t have much time to think about it, hearing his footsteps heading your way, and you quickly smoothed out your skirt, putting on your prettiest smile for him.

“Why hello there,” you said kindly, taking your glasses off, and moving aside some stacks of books on your desk. “Can I help you?”

“Y/N,” the man said, sounding relieved, but you could barely hear him over the thought of how blue his eyes were. Why, they put Sinatra to shame, didn’t they? You felt your cheeks flush, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Excuse me?” you said, tilting your head in confusion. He tilted his head as well, mirroring your confusion, but there was worry in his gaze.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten too,” he said, the low timbre of his voice sending a shiver through you.

“Forgotten what, exactly?” You asked, shifting on your feet and fidgeting with your glasses. “My name is Ellie, Ellie Carter. I’m the librarian for Charming Acres.”

“I see.” He smiled, and there was a sweetness in his face that put you at ease.

“Is there anything in particular I can help you find?” You asked eagerly, being careful not to knock over the books beside you. “I ah, I’m in the middle of shelving but if you’d like some assistance browsing I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.”

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Actually, yes. I’d like to take a look at anything you have on the history of Charming Acres. More specifically, any strange and unexplainable occurrences.”

“Oh! Of course. We have newspapers, local documentaries, autobiographies, high school yearbooks, you name it! The Mayor likes to keep track of things like that.” You came out from behind the desk and out of the swinging partition, nearly tripping on the edge of the step before you caught yourself. His hand landed on your arm too, a strange feeling like being held all over by something soft coming over you briefly before vanishing, leaving you upright and unharmed. But you were too flustered to think of that, blushing and stammering an apology.

“I’m so sorry, I’m a little bit”—your skirt nearly caught between the partition and the barrier—“just a tiny smidge”—you straightened a nearby cart of books before they tipped and fell to the floor—“accident prone,” you finished, smoothing your skirt and straightening your kerchief. The man just seemed amused, and oh, there went your poor little heart again, all a pitter patter. Leave it to you to be absolutely clobbered over a stranger, and one from out of town, no less.

“It’s not a problem,” he reassured you, gesturing out towards the shelves.

“Ah, let’s see. Yes!” You scurried out towards the rows you knew held what he was looking for, scanning the shelves and rambling most of the way. “Now, we did lose a few of the records in a fire a few years back, but I do believe most of what you might be interested in was saved,” you said, moving down a row to pull a tall ladder towards you. You stepped up three rungs to reach the fourth shelf, skimming along titles for what you were looking for. “You said you were interested in local oddities?”

“Yes. Anything that stands out of the ordinary…at least by this town’s standards,” he said, and you gave an airy laugh.

“Yes, well. Not sure how much luck you’ll have with that. I’m sure you’ve noticed how quiet things are around here.” You looked down at the book in your hand, a volume on the town’s infrastructure, and sighed softly.

“You don’t sound as if you like that very much.”

The man was observant, you’d give him that. You looked down at him to find him looking up at you curiously. How embarrassing.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” you said quietly, waving a hand. “I’m just a restless soul, I guess. Sometimes Charming Acres feels a little…”

“Tame for your liking?” He suggested, and you smiled.

“Something like that.” You locked eyes, the gleam in his gaze sending a thrill through you. You flushed again, looking back at the shelves and pulling two more books before climbing down the ladder. “Of course, I suppose that isn’t a very seemly thing for a young woman of marriable age to say. It’s not proper for me to want something like excitement, or adventure, or—” Your foot slipped on the last rung, and you nearly fell. But again, the stranger caught you, sending you tumbling into his arms, books pressed close to your chest. “Danger,” you finished softly, your eyes landing on his lips.

It seemed like a small eternity you were there, his hands on your arms and his eyes fixed on only you. An odd feeling passed over you, like you’d done this before. Like you’d had his hands on you, like you knew his hands—him—well. Like maybe…it all went fuzzy, just out of reach. He tilted his head at you again, as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

“Have you ever thought of leaving?” He asked, and you felt your pulse in your ears.

“Leaving?” Your head went dizzy, his eyes moving to your lips and then back to yours.

“Leaving Charming Acres. Seeing what’s out there, finding adventure, danger…” He paused, gave a little smile, and his eyes went just a tiny bit dark. “Maybe something more,” his finished, as if testing for your response.

“Oh,” you said, breathless. The men in town certainly didn’t speak like this. They were plain, straightforward, with no vibrancy. Everything felt forced, and this man…you got the strange sensation that something about him was glowing, that he was…very different, and it excited you in more ways than was proper for a lady to admit. “Oh!” you repeated, a little more surprised as you realized how inappropriate it was how you were standing with him—practically swooning up at him, really. You straightened yourself, twisting your shoulders slightly to lose his hands on your arms and raising your chin slightly, even though you could tell your cheeks were flaming. “That’s rather forward of you,” you said, stepping around him to the small table located in the middle of the aisle. Your whole body was electric, on edge but not out of fear and you knew it. This strange man from out of town was doing things to you that no one had before. The indecency of it! You paused, realizing that you liked it. Perhaps that was the most indecent thing of all.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of hands on your hips, trailing the circle of your waist. They were large hands, rough, but his touch was gentle. “You’d told me you liked vintage things, Y/N,” his voice said, deep and gruff in your right ear. “I should have asked you to wear some sooner, it’s…very becoming on you.”

“I…I d-don’t know what you mean,” you stammered, looking down at his hands. “This is still very much in style. And I thought I told you, my name isn’t Y/N, it’s Ellie. Come to think of it I—” You were cut off by a soft kiss just behind your ear, the press of his body behind you causing an ache between your thighs. You gasped, steadying yourself on the stack of books you’d just set down. “T-this is highly inappropriate, Mr…well, I don’t even know your name, do I?”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” he said, sounding amused but there was something else in his tone too. Amusement, and something darker. Arousal. Oh. “But I don’t think you care, do you?”

“E-excuse me?” You squeaked out, for the second time since you’d met. Your ears were met with a dark chuckle, and you felt him shift behind you.

“Sam once told me that the bookish ones always have the…what was it he said? Kinkiest fantasies.” He spun you to face him, and his eyes were squinted slightly, focused on your face. His tongue darted out to lave at his bottom lip, and you swallowed, hard. “I don’t think you care that you don’t know me. I think, that maybe, just maybe, I’m something new, and exciting, and you don’t care that you don’t even know my name because you want me to take you, and ruin you for any man in this tiny little town.”

Heavens, he was so handsome; all authority and smolder and surety. He was right, that was the worst part. You weren’t the good girl everyone thought you were, that you seemed to be. You wanted danger, and passion, and sex, which you knew as everyone in this town did was supposed to be for after marriage, but you just didn’t care. You were so pent up and wound up and stuck in your head and you just wanted something real—and here was this very handsome agent, standing in front of you wanting and offering to be your downfall and you wanted it, desperately. Which is why you knew you had to protest.

“I…I can’t do that.” You tried to take a step back but found the edge of the table at the back of your thighs. “I can’t let you do that, I…I have a reputation, I can’t just have an affair, with a stranger,” you protested, but his brilliant blue eyes looked you up and down and you could have sworn he knew how damp your panties were. “What if word got out? They’ll be calling me a hussy, and I’m n-not that kind of girl.”

“Oh I know. You’re a good girl—you always have been.” A fond little smile snuck its way into his sentence, quickly replaced with a dark grin. In the distance, you heard two or three of the library’s lightbulbs burst, throwing the aisle the two of you were in into deeper shadow. He loomed in front of you, his hands on your waist once more as he took a step closer, your bodies nearly flush. One hand moved to cup your chin, a thumb smoothing over your cheek. “Nobody has to know,” he whispered, and you felt your breath stolen away as his lips came down on yours, warm and slightly chapped but delicious—and somehow, familiar.

You told yourself that you didn’t want to pull him down closer by the tie, but you did. You told yourself you had no choice but to weave your fingers into his hair, whimpering into his kiss, but of course you had. And by the time he had you sitting on the table, skirt hiked up around your hips with his hands on your bare thighs, his tongue taking expert control of your mouth, you didn’t care anymore. He felt so good, nothing else seemed to matter, and in the dim half lighting it almost didn’t seem real—like any moment the lights would flicker back on and you’d find yourself alone, with nothing but your books and thoughts to keep you company. You didn’t want that to happen, you were so desperate for him to stay…

You felt him chuckle against your neck, where you were sure he was leaving hickeys. “You said we were supposed to ‘keep it PG on this case’. I’d assumed since Sam was with us, but…” he breathed out a laugh against the crook of your neck, and you sighed in pleasure. “We never seem to follow your rules, do we? Not when I know better.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” you admitted, letting out a squeal of surprise when he nipped at your pulse point. He was so close to where you really wanted him, his fingers ghosting along your inner thighs… “Please,” you breathed, shifting your legs a little wider. He paused, looking amused and arching an eyebrow at your antics.

“So forward. Maybe I was wrong about you being a good girl, after all,” he mused, fingers brushing closer to the apex of your thighs. You felt like you could barely breathe, your necktie strangling you. “I don’t need to touch you to know how wet you are, sweetheart,” he said, and you melted, pulling him back down to your lips. You were surprised he obliged you, but barely had time to think about it as your mind went white-numb with pleasure. You didn’t have much kissing experience, but he was incredible, so much so that you barely registered him sliding your panties to the side until his fingers were teasing your pussy. You whimpered, biting your lip, and he looked at you, a strange amount of admiration on his face. You’d almost say love, but you hardly knew him. Right?

“It’s like the first time all over again for you, isn’t it?” He said, eyes twinkling.

“It…it is? My first time?” You said, a bit shyly. His smile grew, and he shook his head.

“It really isn’t.” As soon as he said it, that strange déjà vu hit you again: the feeling that you had done this before, somewhere else, in a different place and way—but that he was familiar, that it had been him touching you, undoing you. You blinked in confusion.

“Wait…” you paused, then sighed in frustration. “It’s gone again,” you muttered, and he hummed understandingly, sympathetically —then thrust a finger inside you. You cried out in surprise and he shushed you, tucking your face against his shoulder.

“I’ll make it come back,” he said, and it almost sounded like a promise—or maybe a threat, but a welcome one. You heard the front door jingle, or actually bump—clearly, someone couldn’t get into the library. You tensed, as if ready to run, but he didn’t seem to want to let you move. “They can’t get in,” he assured you, and you sighed in relief. “But you should be quiet if you don’t want people to suspect. I can’t guarantee they won’t be able to hear us,” he said, and you nodded.

“The cases probably will muffle the sound. One time I got stuck on the high ladder and couldn’t get down for almost an hour because no one could hear—” Your anecdote got cut off by another heated kiss as he slipped another finger inside you, curling them against your g-spot. “Oh, mercy,” you breathed, your knees clenching on either side of his legs, and he chuckled.

“So careful with your words in this town. I wonder what it will take you to remember how to curse properly. One orgasm? Two?” He added a finger, and when you shuddered and moaned, lolling your head back he pulled your head forward with your necktie—much as you had done to him earlier. “Three, perhaps?” He asked, kissing under your ear in that way that made you clench around his fingers. In the still of the library, with nothing but a clock ticking in the far distance, you could hear the lewd wet noises his fingers were making as they thrust in and out of you. Oh, how sinful. If the ladies at bridge club knew what you were doing, you’d be the subject of conversation for weeks.

“Would you like them to talk about you?” He asked, your mind growing fuzzy again—whether from how close you were, or from that strange fogginess was unclear. Your eyes were closed already, but your brows furrowed in confusion.

“I d-didn’t say that out loud,” you realized, and he hummed in agreement.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t hear you.”

Your eyes opened slowly, and you nuzzled his cheek to make him look at you. You were nose to nose, his fingers working miracles inside you and from the way the room had begun to spin you knew you wouldn’t last long. But you had begun to realize that the feeling of something glowing about him was him, as if you were seeing it with another set of eyes. “What are you?” You asked, more of a breath than a whisper because of how wound up you were. He tilted his head again, and his eyes sparked to life, bright blue, full of light, energy.

“Someone who loves you.” Before you could even think of a reply, it was like your body was snapped into total bliss, euphoria coursing through your veins as your release hit you hard, much harder than you’d been expecting. Almost as if he’d willed it to do so, but you couldn’t think about that as you whimpered through it, his hand over your mouth as you bucked your hips down to meet his hand. You heard him growling praise in your ear, which only served to prolong your orgasm, pussy fluttering around his fingers for longer than you should have. By the time he let you down, you were disheveled and shaking, your hair falling out of its arrangement and your shirt nearly off one shoulder, hickeys exposed on your neck. He pulled back to observe you, clear satisfaction on his face.

“Aren’t you quite the sight, Y/N,” he said, and you realized his eyes had stopped glowing. You almost wondered if it had even happens at all, if it had simply been a trick your bliss had played on you. But there was still a faint ringing in your ears, one that reminded you that you didn’t understand most of what was going on.

“Is that all?” You asked, sounding bereft and desperate, but he seemed to take it as an insult.

“Is that all?” He repeated, his voice raising indignantly as his jaw practically dropped. He let out a short laugh of disbelief. “‘Worried about your reputation’ one moment, a needy little slut the next. Unbelievable.” You swallowed a whimper at his tone, pressing your knees together. “No, Ellie, that’s not nearly all. I think you know that already—and did I give you permission to hide yourself from me?” His air was so absolute that you felt as if you were under his command, taking orders.

“N-no, sir,” you said, hesitantly opening your legs again. A moment later he was between them again, lifting your legs around his hips. You saw his lip twitch when you said sir, clearly having struck a nerve that he liked.

“Sir, hmm? Seems like you do remember some things.” You felt your cheeks burning, and you buried your face in his shoulder again, as if seeking comfort. It gave him pause, and you felt him hesitate. “Would you like to stop?” He asked gently, and you shook your head.

“No, I—I mean, I think I’m j-just a little overwhelmed,” you admitted, and you felt him set a hand to the back of your head, cradling you close. “I suppose I should have listened to mother when she said don’t chase after older men,” you mused, laughing softly. “You must think me childish.”

“That’s not quite the word I’d use,” he said, the rumble of his voice soothing you more than you understood. “But then, you’re not exactly yourself right now, so I don’t think you should put too much thought into it.” You looked up at him, getting lost in the sound of his words and the look in his eyes and oh dear, this was happening far too fast for you, wasn’t it?

“Should we slow down?” You asked, making a halfhearted attempt to pull your shirt back over your shoulder. You looked up at him with wide eyes, the eyes that usually got you what you wanted, and he squinted again.

“I know that look. You don’t want to stop, so why are you asking me?”

You couldn’t help but smile, genuinely smile, some of your reserved nature falling away. “Because,” you explained quietly, with a smoothness you hadn’t used yet, “I want you to do indecent things to me, and I don’t want you to stop until we’re both satisfied.” You reached out, playing with his tie. “But,” you said softly, looking up at him through your lashes. “I wanted to be sure that’s what you want too, agent.”

It almost seemed like you’d pushed him over the edge with that, because he took a deep breath and when he put his hands back on you, there was an urgency, a need that hadn’t been there before. “Even without knowing who I am, you still know exactly what to say to undo me,” he muttered. “To think I didn’t even know what those things were when we first met.”

“What, twenty minutes ago?” You asked with a giggle that turned into a sigh as he undid your bra and cast it aside, your tie joining it shortly afterward. His coat and suit jacket were tossed aside; you opened his shirt between kisses and frantic touches, him pulling you closer and you cloying for more of him exposed. Your head was spinning, you were still wondering about his eyes glowing when he growled, frustrated by the clasps of your bra.

“Taking too long,” he grumbled, and with a snap, it was on the floor, along with his pants and underwear and oh dear lord, he was handsome there, too.

“How did you—?” You began, but was quickly cut off with a kiss.

“Does it matter?” He asked, and as he brought his hips flush with yours you realized that the snap had gotten rid of your panties, too. You felt the head of his cock, hot and hard at your entrance and you couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the waiting.

“Please,” you begged, and before you could say more his mouth was on yours again, strong arms bracing himself on either side of you as yours wound around his neck. You felt him slip inside, the stretch of his cock just enough to burn gloriously as he came to rest inside you. The groan he let out made you shudder, whining at the feeling of him where you’d needed someone for so long. Goodness gracious, you didn’t even know this man and all you could think was how he fit so perfectly to you, how he felt right. Safe, even, which went against everything about the situation.

“Come on, handsome,” you whispered in his ear, lifting your hips to grind into his. “Give me something to remember you by.” The both of you moaned, your clit grinding against his pelvic bone before he thrust back down, making you yelp and submit to his leadership. He lifted your legs over his hips, and you leaned back while he found a rhythm, the sound of the table creaking and both of your panting trapped between the walls of books. He looked wrecked, shirt rumpled, tie wildly askew with his hair sticking up in all directions. You figured you looked just as untidy, what with your skirt up over your hips and shirt wide open, bra thrown onto the floor. One of your shoes had fallen off somewhere along the way, one foot bouncing with each thrust that was making your head spin and your stomach swirl with pleasure. He wasn’t shy, the lamp on the other end of the table close to falling off from the intensity of his thrusts, each of which hit so deep it had you whimpering out tiny exclamations of surprise. He shushed you, but there was a surprising look of adoration in his eyes.

“I need you to remember,” he said, gruffly, but you could tell that he was getting as close as you were. “I need your help, Sam doesn’t…doesn’t remember either, and I can’t as easily make him remember, so…”

“I hope you don’t expect me to fuck this ‘Sam’ too,” you panted, eyes rolling back in your head as he slowed down, hitting your a-spot with precision you didn’t know was possible—precision that spoke of past experience, with you.

You may not have fully understood what was going on, but you weren’t stupid.

He laughed, and shook his head. “No, but I could use your help wrapping up this case.” He leaned down and looked you right in the eyes, a hand moving to your clit. “And was that a swear I just heard? In this Christian town?”

You gasped, both from his slow circles and from the realization he was right. “Jeepers,” you whispered, and again, you felt that intense, unexpected orgasm wash across you, making you cry out. You heard yourself say something, maybe a name, as you lost yourself for the second time, your thighs shaking and your hands finding purchase in his hair.

‘Y/N.’ You heard him say your name in your mind, and for a moment, just a moment you remembered it was your name. Your eyes flew open, tears biting at their edges, and you could only whimper in response. For the second time—and this time you were absolutely sure of it— his eyes flashed blue, that high pitched ringing filling your ears. “Once more,” he demanded, and you tried to stutter out that you didn’t think you could, but you felt an invisible force press on your throat, and you couldn’t help but fall silent from the additional pleasure it gave you. “You can,” he insisted, hips becoming uneven in their thrusts, “and you will.” His voice was breaking, and some part of you felt incredibly proud that you were able to affect him just a sliver of the way he was doing to you.

“And you?” you asked, your voice eager and needy. You tugged on his hair, felt his hips stutter and a groan escape him, his hands tightening on your hips.

“Yes,” He replied, and you felt your stomach flutter with perverted glee. “I’m going to cum with you, sweetheart.” You couldn’t help but whimper, feeling your third orgasm nearing, a fresh coat of slick dampening his cock as you began to spasm around him.

“Oh my stars,” you breathed, and it was a little on the nose as you were seeing pinpricks of dancing light by that point. “Where?” You asked, and his eyes opened to fix you with a curious gaze—almost too innocently curious for what you were doing. “Where are you going to…to…” you stammered, too high on delight to find the politically correct term but not sure enough to use the one he had.

“Where am I going to cum?” He asked, near matter-of-factly, but it was the look on his face that made it so hot. He looked so possessive, so thoroughly engrossed in what you two were doing that you felt like you were at the center of the universe with him. But then he grinned wickedly, eyes going near black, and you knew what he was going to say before he did.

“Right where I always do.” He leaned forward, lips hovering over yours. “Say that you want it,” he almost sing-songed. “Tell me right where you want this stranger to put his seed, Y/N.”

“I-I-inside me!” You cried out as your orgasm hit you again, and this time, that other wave of pleasure hit immediately after, near drowning you entirely and making you black out. You felt him tense, cry out something rough in another language, and then spill himself inside you, cock pressing up deep inside against your cervix as you milked him for all he was worth. Oh, you’d have ever so much to confess on Sunday, you realized, shame washing over you with your afterglow, but then you wondered why the fuck you cared. And then, when you cracked open one eye to take a peek at your surroundings, you wondered why you were in a library.

You looked down at the the head resting above your chest, running your fingers shakily through soft dark locks. “Cas?” You asked weakly, and he looked up at you with a look of adoration. He let out a soft laugh, smiling.

“There she is.”

You tugged him up to kiss him but he was already moving, hands coming to rest on either side of you on the table as you lost yourself in him. He was still deep inside you, his groan at the way you were kissing him sending vibrations through you and making you shiver. You pulled back just enough to speak between kisses.

“Why are we in a library?”

He sighed. “This case is very confusing, but I think you were assimilated into the town. I found you playing the town librarian,” he explained, and you rolled your eyes behind closed lids.

“Of course I was.” You gave him one last kiss, holding his face in both your hands. “Where’s Sam?”

“Same as you, the town seemed to have found a role and put him into it. He thinks he’s ‘Justin Smith’ now,” Cas said, sounding irritated, and you could tell that interaction hadn’t gone well.

“My bet is still on a psychic, by the way,” you pointed out, pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

“I’m starting to think you’re right.” You were beginning to wonder if you could steal enough time for a second round when a banging came on the front door. Apparently, the patrons were getting annoyed with one of the town’s only forms of entertainment not being open for business.

“We should go,” Cas said, and you could see a little regret lingering on him. So you hadn’t been the only one hoping, interesting. You nodded in agreement, expecting to need to get dressed, but there was a swoosh and there you both were, fully clothed. The loss of him inside you was what hit you the hardest though, and you let out a small sigh.

“Come on then, agent,” you said, hopping up off the table and bouncing on your toes to regain full function of your legs before tugging him in the direction of the back door. You gave him a smile, and a wink. “Let’s get Sam, crack this case and ditch this town, shall we?”

He gazed at you thoughtfully, a funny little look in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re back, Y/N,” he told you, serious all of a sudden. “While Ellie Carter was accommodating,” he looked you up and down, still in your librarian get up, “I much prefer you.”

You smiled, reaching out to straighten his tie while standing on tiptoe. “I understand completely,” you reassured him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “As much fun as this was, I’d rather have my angel over a stranger any day.”

Tags are going down here from now on to keep headers tidy. Tag list is currently open, feel free to request to be added!

@netflixandcastiellll @splendidcas @bkwrm523 @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @joanne-egberp @willowing-love @samanthasmileys @consultingfanboy @castielspahdehrah @gryffindorable713 @miss-spnm0mma @blushingjared @grace-for-sale @mrswhozeewhatsis

#castiel x reader #cas x reader #spn x reader #castiel x reader insert #reader insert #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural season 14 #spn #spn fanfic #m rated

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aibrechts · 8 years ago

Note

Would you do a Tyki/Allen reclist??

YES, i certainly WILL HAHA

if you know me then you know i love my tykillens 100% consensual and thats. That’s a bit tough, cause not many in the fandom seem to agree with me lol. it’s a bit of a wasteland in ao3 not gonna lie but the tag there has recently been blessed, and I’ll dig out some old gold too

Honestly it’s uh. It’s probably gonna be easiest to organise this by authors and then I’ll like. Pick a couple of my favourites from each of them, and link a few randoms i like at the end.

Moonswing: I love the way this author writes them - the dialogue especially is quick, witty and so so fun, and the ideas they come up with are

Loves Company is the first poker pair fic i read that gave me hope for this ship. it’s so light and funny and good and went a long way to inspiring me to continue writing for the pair.Some Minor Issues looks like it’s only just been started and I honestly cant wait for more. Modern AU where Tyki is the son of a mob boss, the best trans Allen i’ve ever read (in a world of fem!allen i have finally found an oasis of casual and accurate representation). definitely excited to see where it goes, if it goes, idk if it’s gonna be continued or what but !!!!Reapers is another new one, and the title kinda says it all lol. Allen and Lavi are reapers working for the Earl, and Allen is designated Tyki’s personal servant ahahaha

hiat:Not gonna lie i haven’t actually read a LOT from this author, but what I have read has been exceptional

A Small Reprieve is wonderful, especially considering it’s the author’s first smut like. Damn. It’s sweet and a little bit sad, but this is Tykillen so what did u expect lmaoFondant and Fakery is so cute and sweet like omfg ahahaha it’s all the lighthearted Tykillen fluff i ever neededWorlds Apart is probably my favourite from them, but im not sure if it’s ongoing or if they’ve abandoned it? Another mob AU and i really really hope they continue it because !!!!! im in love with this fic ahahaha and want to see more

ArbitrarySpaces:oohhh boyyyy //rubs hands together

While You Sleep is somehow the only soulmates au (that i know of) and i love it?? its amazing and cute, where each Allen and Tyki sees through the other’s eyes in their dreams.Mr. Poker Face is super funny and lighthearted - i love the flow of dialogue, it’s so quick and witty and them I honestly yelled a lil when I saw it’d been updated with a second chapter.How to Build a Life Together depicts snapshots of Tyki and Allen, uh. Building a life together i guess lol. Each chapter is a different point in their relationship, starting from the point where Tyki gives Allen a rock (and not in the traditional sense. That comes later lmao).

rustandstardust:they’ve got some damn good shit i tell ya

it’s all a game is so ???? good ??? casino au where allen’s a tease and tyki’s a sucker, everything feels so lavish and indulgent and i love it!connection I haven’t… actually…. read. But! it’s on my agenda tonight tbh and I have high expectations lollove me like you mean it is also really good, like. I don’t know what else to say lmfao it’s just… good.

CandyCrackpot:I am shocked and appalled by the fact I almost missed them because they’re like. Like. If there’s a holy trinity in this fandom then they’re god. just. Just straight up they’re a fucking god okay.

Gamble got me on the bottom!tyki hype train and i have yet to follow through - mostly because i’m intimidated by the quality of writing and characterisation that went into this 100% rly fukkin good would recommend.//squints// and uh that’s all for them??? but they have a HEAP of other fics for this fandom ((if ur looking for some soft papa mana and baby allen fluff then Smile is def the place to go))

Hurryup:every time i think about them my chest gets tight and my hands start shaking like ???? is this love ?????????????? fam help i think im dying honest to god

shutdown is… its, uh. I honestly can’t put it into words. It’s the best Tykillen fic I’ve ever read. It’s beautiful, subtle, quiet, so bitter and sweet, but somehow not bittersweet and i honestly. i dont know how to explain how that’s possible but it is and it’s perfect and i will scream from the top of mount fucking ararat about how good it is til the day i drop dead okay like. if you read only one fic from this list, let it be this one.idk why i thought they’d written more tykillen than that, probably because it was so fucking good and the characterisation was flawless, but for the life of me i can’t find any others for this ship by them so…??? but lots of link/allen if ur into that. i haven’t read them personally but if shutdown is any indication they’re gonna be lit like a talking bush.

—Assorted—

Chinchirinoda’s fic Worship gave me a hand kink. No kidding, it’s short and sweet and quiet and sad and lovely and one of my OG favourite Tykillen fics

I haven’t actually read Allen’s worst Struggle by slaying_dragons, or Night of Truce (new author on the block what up) but I have the tabs open and im prob gonna get to those tonight too lol

Let’s Do Something Wrong by kittybandit is a super cute collection of super short super sweet prompt-drabbles. Like condensed milk. Or a shot of straight cordial. Or cocaine. The yoga one is def my favourite, but they’re all amazing

autumntea is the kind of cruel where they’ll write 700-ish words and every single letter is perfect and amazing and makes u want MORE but then like. there isn’t. there isn’t more thERES NEVER MORE AND I WISH THERE WAS BC IT’S ALL SO GOOD. all of it. Every tykillen fic they wrote is a dicktease and i want MORE, DAMMIT

If you want crack (and for some reason Kingdom Hearts characters working in a casino ????), Sin City Dreamers by The_Button_Harlequin is lit the most well-written shitpost i’ve ever had the experience of reading, like. I lit couldn’t stop laughing while reading it it’s… No, i can’t explain it, you have to read it yourself to understand lmfao definitely worth it, I promise. i promise.

And, uh. I dont mean to toot my own horn (i totally do bruh look at my ego okay) but if you’d like a chef’s special then i recommend make it out alive for smut, and Pilate saith unto them, behold the man for ‘fluff’ (so far as fluff goes in my vocabulary) and Mutually Beneficial for Tyki’s big dumb crush.

—

There you have it !!! that’s. That’s pretty much the entire consensual Tykillen tag right there. And it’s all good like idk how yall do it but ur fukkin masterminds okay im honestly in shock, still in shock actually after reading Hurryup’s fic last night like. fuck i wanna cry just thinking about it lmfao it’s so perfect and beautiful and sad like jesus fam let me breathe.

I know you’re going to find something in here you love and if you don’t then im. i don’t know what to tell u man lol this is the best of the best so i hope u enjoy yourself

#poker pair fic rec #anon #dgm #d gray man #allen #tyki #allen walker #tyki mikk #poker pair #tykillen #fic rec #i got so carried away im not even sorry #I LOVE THEM OKAY #I LVOE THEM A LOT #THE PAIRING AND THE FICS #JUST #ALL OF IT #I LOVE IT

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crikeygatormate · 3 years ago

Text

Something Follows

Hi all, this is my post for @cyancherub Wheel of Misfortune! Plz check it out if you haven't theres tons of great fics there!!! Hopefully, you all like it! I rewrote this about five times lol. Also, this is my second time writing smut, so apologies if it's a little awkward lmao overall though I had a fun time writing this! :) banner creds goes to the bhna manga lol

My theme was Wraith!Shigaraki x F!reader w/ knifeplay

Warnings: (If I missed any plz let me know!) Gore, Detailed Description of corpses, general violence, knives, non-con/dub-con, implied vomiting (sorry ik its gross), gagging, alcohol, weed, mentioned drug use resulting in overdose, crime report, major character(s) death/death in general, knife play, temperature play(?), dacryphilia, blood kink, scent kink, voyeurism-ish, Dom/switch-shig, switch-reader, degradation, praise kink, choking, oral f-receiving, overstimulation, nipple play (is that a thing idk), begging?

Word Count: 10.1k

18+ ONLY and Dark Content Ahead!!

--------------

October 31, 1967: A large grass fire at Yuii Farms resulted in one casualty. Suspected missing person Tomura Shigaraki, 24, male, responsible for the fire. Ritual remnants were found at the scene; suspected cause of the fire. Shigaraki’s remains were recovered. The autopsy confirmed LSD and amphetamines in Shigaraki’s system at the time of death.

Case #79641 Resolved.

Since 1967 someone in town would go missing during the week of Halloween. It was never a specific kind of person, so finding out who the killer was has remained a mystery. During your first year at university, an old lady who worked in the freshman cafeteria went missing. The next year a pledge went missing. There was no pattern except someone always went missing and never returned.

Not surprisingly, this was unsettling for the small college town, so they adopted a folktale shortly after people started to go missing. It basically revolved around a college student that died on Halloween in 1967. Tomura Shigaraki. He had been missing for a few weeks before he was confirmed dead. Apparently, the rumor was that he was heavily interested in witchcraft and prolonging his life. Some say whatever spell he did in Yuii Farms backfired and bound him to that field for all of eternity, and he would only come out during the week of Halloween to feed on one poor soul who got too close to the field he died in.

You thought this was all bullshit. If the people in this silly little college town looked at the police report they’d find that the poor guy overdosed on drugs and set fire to the field he was in, resulting in his death. Not that anyone seemed to care about that little bit of information.

Still, though, no one dared to enter the old wheat field behind frat row. Sometimes a few frats would haze their new members into running into the middle of the field and then right back out. Obviously, nothing would happen, but that didn’t matter, no one was willing to walk in there. Not even the old farmer who still lives on the land will work the field Shigaraki died in.

Yet, every year the field would yield a new crop of wheat.

You did try to entertain the idea that there was a monster lurking behind the tall stalks of wheat waiting to snatch its prey from the streets. Although, every time you passed by the field all you saw was just…wheat. The whole thing was honestly a lame little story to bring an old college town a little more excitement.

Your night so far was anything but exciting.

“Y/n, I’m not,” Denki hiccuped, his eyes were bloodshot and his face was starting to pale, “not feelin’ so good.”

You turned towards your friend, squinting as the strobe lights in the room you were in just turned on. Denki swayed, clutching his stomach as he waited for you to respond to him. You sighed, “did Bakugou make you shotgun beers with him again?”

Denki nodded, swallowing thickly, “yeah, I thought I could beat em’. I got close this time.”

“Hah, okay whatever you say, buddy.” you snickered as you gently wrapped your hand around Denki’s forearm and began leading him to the bathroom. “You know,” you glanced back at him over your shoulder as he stumbled after you, “you can always tell Bakugou you don’t want to shotgun beers with him.”

Denki shook his head, “you know how he gets.” He let out a whine as you opened the bathroom door, bathing you both in fluorescent light.

You wrinkled your nose at the state of the bathroom. It was a wreck, toilet paper was everywhere. The amount of dirt? Was that dirt (hopefully) on the tile floors was flat out nasty. Not to mention the questionable mold growing in every corner of the bathroom. The mirror was blurry with who knows what and the toilets...well no comment. You briefly wondered how the guys even put up with such a dirty bathroom. “Alright,” you turned to Denki and opened a stall with the heel of your boot, “c’mon.”

Denki surged past you and practically crumbled to the floor, limp. He then weakly hoisted himself up closer to the toilet bowl. “This is gross,” he slurred, eyes darting to a questionable stain on the toilet seat.

You nodded as you squatted down by him, “just a bit.” Your nose wrinkled as Denki leaned over the toilet and coughed harshly. “Easy, sparky, “ you said as you rubbed his back, waiting for him to finish.

Denki sniffled, eyes watering as he looked at you with a trembling bottom lip, “can you get me water?”

“Of course,” you replied with a small smile as you stood back up, “now don’t get any ideas about running away, okay?”

Denki nodded, eyelids drooping as he let out a heavy sigh, “I’ll stay put.”

“I mean it, Denki,” you warned, “don’t go anywhere.”

Denki weakly gave you a thumbs up as you left the bathroom shaking your head. The guy had a knack for running away when he got drunk. The number of times you and your friends have had to track him down over the years was astonishing. Granted, with how bad of shape he was in now, you didn’t think he would run off this time.

Now that you were outside of the bathroom, the air around you had jumped up at least five degrees and everything felt wet. You liked house parties much more than frat parties just because of how many people the guys managed to stuff in this place, it was suffocating at times.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you slipped in and out of different groups of people heading towards the drink room.

Thankfully, this room was not as full as the hallways or the other rooms, so you could breathe a little better.

“Can I get a water bottle please?” you asked the freshman behind the bar who looked absolutely miserable.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gloomy, but then he stiffened and smiled brightly. “Here you go!”

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden mood change, “thanks.” You took the warm bottle from him and turned around to see a bare chest. “Move out of the way,” you grumbled, not even sparing the person in front of you a glance.

“Oi, that’s not very nice,” Bakugou sneered, moving over so you couldn’t get past him.

You sighed and glanced up at him, “something you need?”

Bakugou bared his teeth, “yeah, where’s Dinky? The last time I saw him he said he needed to find you.”

You folded your arms over your chest and glared at Bakugou, your eyes narrowed as you remained silent.

“Where's this attitude comin’ from?” Bakugou snapped.

“Well,” you began, puffing your cheeks out in mild anger, “you know Denki was already smoking tonight and you made him shotgun all those beers. Poor guy is puking his guts out. You know he can’t say no to you.”

“He just can’t hold his beer,” Bakugou snorted, “it’s not like I forced him to drink all those beers.”

You quirked an eyebrow and harshly poked Bakugou in his chest, “yeah right.”

Bakugou smirked flicking your finger away from his chest, “well whatever, I don’t fucking care. Just show me where he is, I need him, Kiri, and Deku to help me gather up these dumbass pledges. They’ve gotta drink more, this party is lame.”

“Aren’t you a responsible president,” you said, voice snide, “and he’s in the bathroom.”

Bakugou huffed, eyeing you out of the corner of his eye as he pushed past you to head to the bathroom. The crowd in the hallway immediately parted for him, presumably because everyone was scared of him...for obvious reasons.

You trailed after him, tugging at the wrapper around the water bottle. Just staring at the back of his head you knew he was smirking at all the guys who cowered away from him. It made you want to kick him in the back of the knee, just so he would stumble. Knock his ego down a little bit.

Bakugou opened the bathroom door and then promptly turned around, a scowl set heavy on his features, “he’s not here.”

“What do you mean he’s not here?” you asked, shocked, as you slipped past him. Your eyes widened in disbelief, Denki was gone. “Oh great.”

Bakugou sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “go outside, I’ll go get everyone.”

---

And that’s how you found yourself outside of the frat house at one am in the morning coming up with a game plan to find Denki before he does something stupid.

“After tonight I’m fuckin’ done looking for his dumbass. He needs to learn to stay put,” Bakugou grumbled as he yanked a sweatshirt over his head.

You snorted, “says the guy who made him shot gun all those beers.” You grinned when Bakugou shot you a nasty glare and you shrugged. “If he would have just stayed high tonight, which I’m sure he would of, Denki probably would still be here.”

Bakugou gave you a twisted smile, “well aren’t you miss smarty-pants tonight, huh?”

“Okay,” Midoriya interjected quickly, “let’s just focus on finding Denki before he ends up somewhere he shouldn’t.”

“Like last time when he wandered to the dean's house and threw up in her flower pot?” Mina added, “yeah I don’t want to go through alcohol awareness training a third time.”

You huffed, nodding in agreement as you yanked off your cat ears. They were starting to give you a headache, “well, why don’t we go search in the usual places he goes to and if we don’t find anything we can meet back here and come up with another plan?”

“I like that idea,” Kirishima said brightly, grinning at you widely. “Denki’s gone to that pizza place by the bars a few times.”

“He also goes to the park near east campus,” Sero added with a nod.

“Or he might go back to the dean's house?” Mina said with a shiver.

“Or the dumbass might have passed out somewhere around here,” Bakugou concluded.

“Then let's split up?” Midoriya offered as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “Kacchan, you and Kirishima can go to the pizza place and then the park since they’re fairly close to each other. Sero and Mina, you both can stop by the dean’s house, and Y/n and I can look around here for him. Does that sound good?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “whatever, c’mon Eijirou,” he snapped, roughly grabbing Kirishima’s arm, making the redhead stumble after him. “Text in the group chat if any of you losers find him, kay?”

“So brash,” Mina said with a huff as she and Sero left to head towards the neighborhood the dean lived in.

You turned towards Midoriya, “I guess we better start looking.”

He nodded, “I guess so.”

You two walked in silence for a while. The only noise being the thump of the bass from various houses you passed. The air was frigid as you walked down the old cracked sidewalk, making you wish you brought a jacket. There were some guys passed out near the sidewalk or the occasional couple pressed against the side of a house, but Denki was nowhere to be found.

You kicked a pebble, it bounced against the street once, twice before rolling to a stop by a storm drain. “I don’t think we’re gonna find him here, Midoriya.”

Midoriya looked down at you, his evergreen hair starting to sway as a cold wind picked up, “we haven’t looked around back.”

You looked up at him and then back down at your shoes, “you really think he’s gonna go back there? You know how scared Denki is of that field.”

Midoriya nodded, “you’re probably right.” He then snickered and lightly bumped you with his elbow, “so you believe the folktale now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, straightening your posture to bump back into him, “you kidding? That’s like the biggest load of bullshit ever.”

He shrugged, a grin growing across his features, “I don’t know, it is a little spooky.”

“Spooky,” you echoed. “My grade in O-chem is more spooky than that story,” you countered.

Midoriya laughed, his shoulders bouncing slightly as he shook his head, “that’s not surprising.”

Your eyebrows rose in mild offense, “hey! I thought you were supposed to be the “nice supportive” guy in our group?”

“That’s Kiri’s job,” Midoriya replied, his smile now forming into a smirk.

You huffed, glancing at the wheat field that was coming into your view, and then back at him, “oh yeah? Then who are you supposed to be then?”

Midoriya shrugged, leaning down closer to you, “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

You let out a breath, cheeks becoming hot as he started to laugh at your embarrassment. With a shake of your head you looked away from him and towards the field, feeling your stomach flip a few times. You were about to say something until something shiny caught your eye. “Look!” you said as you tugged on Midoriya’s jacket, “I think there’s something by the fence over there!”

Midoriya stiffened; he glanced towards the rotting fence by the wheat field, “there’s nothing there.”

You shook your head as you bounded towards the fence. Low and behold there was Denki’s dab pen right by the rotting post, “Midoriya, c’mere!” you shouted, beckoning him over with a wave of your hand, “look this is Denki’s!”

Midoriya begrudgingly made his way over to you, eyes darting between you and the wheat field, “we don’t know that’s his,” he said quickly.

“No, look it is,” you answered as you picked it up, “see there's that little sticker of a pikachu he put on it.” You held the pen up to Midoriya’s face, pointing at the sticker, “he must be close, you know he’d never willingly lose this, drunk or not.”

Midoriya pressed his lips into a thin line, “I don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes as you slipped the pen into your skirt pocket, “he probably wandered into the field and passed out, and I know that’s his pen. I know you know it’s his too.”

Midoriya’s frown deepened, “Denki did not go into the field, he’s not that stupid.”

“But he was super crossed,” you countered, “we can’t just not look in there. What if he got hurt?”

“Well what if we get hurt if we go in there?” Midoriya shot back.

You frowned, “are you for real?”

“What do you mean?” Midoriya began, clearly growing uncomfortable, “I’m not going in there.”

“This is ridiculous. That folktale is not real and our friend very well may be in there freezing his ass off or hurt. Midoriya, this is serious,” you argued.

“Y/n, c’mon,” Midoriya proclaimed, a twinge of anger present in his deep voice, “Denki would not go in there.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched Midoriya furrow his brows. He was clearly frustrated with you, but you were frustrated with him too. You let out a short breath, “fine, you know what? You can stay here, I’ll go look for him alone since you’re being a pussy.”

Midoriya’s mouth dropped in shock, “being a pussy? Are you kidding-”

“I’m not!” you cut him off and turned on your heel, heading towards the edge of the field.

Midoriya’s eyes widened and he shot forward, grabbing you by the elbow, “don’t go in there, please-”

You yanked your arm out of his grasp, “I am, and I know you’re not gonna stop me.” With that you shot him a nasty glare before stepping over the fence and into the field. You began walking and did not look back.

---

The air around you was growing colder and colder the longer you walked through the field. You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you stomped through the stalks of wheat. They crunched under the weight of your boot with a satisfying snap. They almost sounded frozen.

The wind hissed around you, expertly weaving through the wheat as you came to a stop. With a grumble of frustration you pulled out your phone to turn on your flashlight, something you should have done way earlier because there was practically no light.

Your fingers almost felt numb as you unlocked your phone and turned on the flashlight, illuminating the field in front of you in cold white light. “Damn,” you muttered, your breath was misting in front of you. It didn’t seem to be this cold earlier.

“Denki!” you softly called out, scoffing at yourself. No one was out here, so why were you whispering? “Denki” you shouted louder, sighing when you didn’t hear anything back. He was probably still passed out.

You continued your trek through the field rubbing your arms to get warm and mulling over the conversation you had with Midoriya. Were you too mean to him? He was being pretty forward about you not going into the field...but to be fair you did have pretty good evidence.

You groaned, shaking your head. For the longest time you’ve had the fattest crush on him and you might as well have ruined everything by being an ass. Just when he was starting to warm up to you too. “Fucking great,” you muttered, teeth starting to chatter.

How long have you been walking through here? Fifteen minutes? Thirty? You glanced down at your phone to see that it was frozen. Like actually frozen, the screen was black, flashing a warning sign about being too cold, and then your flashlight went out. You stilled, blinking hard as your eyes adjusted to the dark again.

Not going to lie, you were starting to get a little nervous being out here all alone. Especially now that you couldn’t see that far ahead of you. You frowned and squared your shoulders. You were not gonna wimp out and run back to Midoriya with your tail between your legs. Denki was in this damn field and you were gonna find him if it was the last thing you were ever gonna do. Figuratively of course.

“Denki!” you shouted again walking forward at a brisk pace, “C’mon! I know you’re in here!”

No response.

“Denki!” You shouted and then let out a shriek of shock when you tripped over a heavy rock and landed flat on your face. “Shit,” you whined wincing as you sat up to wipe the dirt off your face. You squinted, glancing at the rock you tripped over. It was large, probably about four feet wide and three feet tall? How did you manage to trip over that?

Your muscles protested slightly as you stood back on your feet, brushing your skirt off as you inspected the rock. It looked a bit like a table actually. What was it doing all the way out here? You shrugged and stepped up onto it, hoping to get a better view of the field in front of you so you could maybe spot Denki’s golden hair somewhere now that the moon was starting to show.

“Denki!” Your voice was now wavering a bit and you tightened your grip around your phone. Why were you scared? You didn’t know, but you could feel an overwhelming sense of dread starting to wash over you in waves, and you felt a sharp tug in your gut telling you to run.

With a quick pant you jumped down from the rock and began jogging back through the field towards the frat houses, hoping to find Denki on the way back. You weren’t being weak for backing out right?

You stopped, huffing as you shook your head, you weren’t going to prove Midoriya right, now matter how much you wanted to leave. So you turned around and headed towards the rock, and to your luck you spotted a head of golden hair just a few feet in front of you.

With a crooked grin you squatted down next to Denki and poked the side of his head, “dude, I thought I told you not to run away.”

No response.

You raised an eyebrow as you poked Denki’s head again, “c’mon wake up, sparky.”

No response.

Your heart jumped in your throat as you poked him again. Was he hurt? Did he drink too much? “Oh no,” you muttered moving around to get a better look at his face, “Denki, please wake up I-” your words died in your throat as you stared at the face in front of you.

It was not Denki.

The person you were holding in your hands was the guy who went missing last year. Some kid you forgot that name of, but you would never forget his face. It was practically plastered up on every part of campus for weeks, and here he was right in your hands. A gag wormed its way up your throat as you stared at the corpse in front of you.

You couldn’t seem to let go of his face as he stared back at you with milky, partially decomposed eyes. His skin was cold and firm under your fingertips, almost like leather...and the smell. The smell was too much to bear and you instantly threw down his face, suppressing another gag as his head bent at an odd angle causing some bugs to crawl from his open mouth.

You were frozen, stuck in place as this person stared back at you. His expression of pain was still readable on his decomposed face. Your hands shook violently as you swallowed thickly. So there was a killer out here.

When your brain seemed to kick back into gear you were off, boots digging into the hard cold earth as you scrambled to run. Panic had now set in as you let out harsh cries, and your blood surged in your ears as you sprinted towards the edge of the field crying for Midoriya. Although you couldn’t even hear yourself talking you were apologizing over and over again for even taking a step into the field.

Before you even thought you had reached the fence you had tripped over something else. Your body didn’t even register the pain as you pulled yourself up. Again to your horror you turned around to see that you had tripped over another body. The old lady from the cafeteria who went missing your freshman year. She was mostly bones and fibers now, but her work clothes clung to her frame. Her name tag was glistening in the moonlight and partially covered by dried blood.

The world seemed to blur as you stood up again and started to run. Your thoughts were nowhere near coherent and you were stumbling through the wheat, hiccuping as a steady stream of tears rolled down your cheeks. At last after running for what felt like hours, you collapsed on the ground. Your phone tumbled out of your pocket and landed with a soft thud on the ground next to you.

It took you a short while to realize that you were back by the rock you tripped over earlier. It was then you also realized you had been running in circles. “Fuck,” you hissed, not daring to wipe your eyes with your hands. With a sigh of defeat you slid down against the rock, curling in on yourself to stop yourself from shaking.

Unknown to you, some carvings on the side of the stone you were leaning against briefly glowed before dissipating. A strong burst of wind tore the field and then it was completely still. The silence was deafening and you lifted your head, sniffling slightly and glancing around your surroundings.

You were alone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

The wheat stalks in front of you swayed slightly and you froze. There in the darkness was a pair of red eyes, bright and unblinking and looking at you.

A soft cry escaped your lips as you pushed yourself against the rock. Whoever was staring at you was now starting to laugh. Their laugh was cold and it made you feel like lead had entered your veins. You shakily leaned down and yanked your pocket knife from your boot and flipped it open, holding it in front of you. You always kept it close when going out, just in case you ran into someone or something that could potentially harm you.

“Stay back,” you meekly announced, your eyes remaining trained on the glowing pair of eyes.

They cackled again before speaking. “You poor thing,” the cold voice hissed from the wheat.

Your bottom lip trembled harshly as you pushed yourself harder against the rock, “I mean it!”

The owner of the red eyes stepped out of the wheat, and to your surprise, it was a guy around your age. He was tall and dressed in all black aside from a pair of red sneakers. Your gaze snapped back to his face to see that he still had his blood red eyes trained on you.

“You should know, that little weapon won’t work on me, but” he shrugged as he began to lean forward, “you can surely try.” Then he lunged towards you, eyes wild, teeth bared, and hand outstretched towards your neck.

You screamed, flinching hard as you blindly slashed out your knife, only to see that your weapon phased through him. His form flickered briefly before he wrapped a large hand around your neck. You choked, the knife dropping from your hand as he easily picked you up by the neck and slammed you back down on the flat of the rock.

He looked down at you, a sadistic grin growing across his pale features, “told ya.” His grin grew larger at the sight of you squirming and gasping in his grasp. “Oh you’re perfect,” he purred, exposing his pointed teeth even more as he practically began drooling.

You winced as some of his saliva spattered on your cheek. His hold tightened on your neck and you let out another gasp, hands now clawing at his surprisingly built arm, “please,” you croaked.

He tilted his head, “please what?”

“Please,” you repeated, struggling to spit out your words, “please let me live.”

He laughed, it was bitter and hoarse, “let you live? Oh you silly girl. You think I’d let you go so willinging when you practically wandered in here all by yourself?” He shook his head and leaned down close to you, “what made you even think that? You must not be very smart.”

You squirmed in his grasp, all your energy was focused on survival. “Please,” you inhaled weakly as your vision started to go, “Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki’s red eyes widened slightly in interest and he hummed, “oh? So you know my name?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you started to thrash your legs out, hoping he would loosen his hold on your neck.

“Interesting,” he commented, tapping his ice-cold fingers against your jugular. “You know, most of the time my food doesn’t know my name, but I guess they never had time to talk. You’re lucky, pet.”

You nodded quickly, digging your nails into his arm as you desperately tried to appease him some way. “You don’t,” you coughed harshly, “you don’t have to eat me.”

“I don’t have to?” Shigaraki hissed, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “who says I need your permission?”

Your legs kicked out again in pure desperation which allowed him to move in between them. Not that you really noticed at the time. Blackness crept around the edges of your vision as you choked out another reply, “I’ll do anything.”

Shigaraki tilted his head, “anything?” He pondered your words for a moment before releasing his death grip on your neck just for a moment so you could suck in a breath.

“Yes, anything, just please let me live,” you pleaded. Your eyes were desperately searching his for any kind of empathy towards you.

Shigaraki hummed, red eyes trailing down your body briefly. You were dressed in probably the smallest top he’s ever seen, and he could easily see your nipples poking out from beneath the black fabric. He moved his gaze down further past your bare tummy to your skirt which was bunched around the top of your soft thighs, then down to the cat tail between your legs - and he was hit with a realization; when was the last time he had someone as cute as you wander into this field? Probably not since the eighties… which was a long time ago now.

Your breathing began to grow heavy as you watched his eyes trail over your body. “Please,” you whimpered, you probably looked absolutely pathetic right now.

Shigaraki hummed, leaning down further so his chest was now touching yours and he suppressed a shiver. You were so warm. “I suppose I don’t have to eat you.”

Your eyes widened and you nodded furiously as a grin of relief crossed your features, “thank you, I’m so sorry for walking into your field, thank you so-”

He slapped his hand over your mouth, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his fingers, “I didn’t say you could leave.”

Your heart sank at his word. He wasn’t going to let you leave? Then what did he want from you? More tears welled up in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks.

“Now don’t get all pouty again,” Shigaraki cooed meanly, taking his hand off your mouth to place it by your head. He leaned closer to bring his mouth by your ear, “I’ll let you leave, if you’re good.”

You shivered as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. He was so cold against you. “If I’m good?” you whispered, hiccuping between soft cries.

Shigaraki nodded, moving the hand that wasn’t by your head down the side of your body. Barely brushing his fingertips against your skin till he reached the top of your thighs. “That’s right, pet. If you’re a good girl for me, I might just let you go.”

You glanced down at his large hand now resting on the top of your bare thigh. Your breath started to stutter a bit. He wanted that? This monster that came out once a year to eat people from your town wanted fuck you? “I don’t understand?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at his face that was mere inches from yours.

“I think you do understand,” he jeered, glancing down to where you were pressed against the front of his jeans. “Or you wouldn’t have been squirming so much. Not that I mind, really,” he hissed, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

To your horror, you realized that the entire time you’ve been crying, you had been subtly rutting your hips up against the front of his pants. “I-I,” you stuttered not knowing what you were even thinking at the moment.

“Poor thing,” Shigaraki tutted, his hand on your thigh now moving to harshly grab at your hip. He dug his fingers into your warm skin and pulled you flush against him, “you really are stupid,” he taunted, “can’t even form a sentence.”

With a snarl, he quickly snaked his hand up to your crop top and harshly pulled it down, the thin fabric easily tearing away from your body. Your breast slightly bounced from the force of him tugging down your shirt and your nipples pebbled in the cold air.

You let out a harsh cry as he roughly pinched one of your nipples between two freezing fingers. He was being so rough, groping your chest with hard fingers that you were sure going to leave a mark. However, you found yourself enjoying his hands on you. The same hands that have destroyed so many people from your town.

“Sensitive?” he taunted, red eyes glowing more brightly as you rolled your hips against his for more friction. He sucked his teeth making a tutting sound as he shook his head, a sinister grin enveloping his features. “I’m starting to think you walked in here on purpose?”

You whined as he delivered a harsh slap to your chest before trailing his hand down your stomach, fingers branching out widely to grasp at your skin. “I didn’t,” you panted, feeling want start to burn in your tummy.

Shigaraki chuckled, bringing his face down closer to yours, brushing his cool lips against yours, red eyes never leaving yours. You huffed out another whine, your warm breath kissing his cold skin, making him grin as his fingers had now reached the band of your panties. “Is that so?” he began, wasting no time and ripping the fabric away from your pussy. He smirked as he ran one long finger through your slit gathering your wetness on his finger. “Then why are you so wet?” he rasped.

You let out a needy whine as you watched him put his finger in his mouth and groan. Why were you enjoying this so much? You saw what he did to those people, how could you even trust that he’d let you go after he was done with you?

Shigaraki removed his finger from his mouth with a soft sigh, watching you closely. “Are you gonna be good and tell me the truth?”

You shook your head, starting to feel frustrated that he stopped touching you, “I swear I didn’t!”

Shigaraki laughed darkly and shook his head, “I’m disappointed in you, pet.” He brought his hand back down between your legs hovering a bit as he mulled over his next words. “I’ll give ya one more try to give me the right answer. If not,” he shrugged and opened his mouth, exposing his sharp teeth again, “I might just have to break our promise. I’m sure you’ll be sweet either way,” he said, letting his long tongue slip from his mouth with a soft pant.

You squirmed in his grasp as more of his saliva dripped on your bare skin and slid down your sides. The throb between your legs was becoming unbearable as he ghosted his fingertips along your slit and around your clit. Did you want this all along? Making fun of him and the folktale around his death for years, perhaps hoping the monster in the field would snatch you up? How did you even know if Denki was in here in the first place, and more importantly why did you come alone?

He was right.

You wanted this. You wanted to live out some deep dark fantasy that was tucked away from the light of day so bad that you wandered in here hoping to find it. A soft breath escaped you as you stared back up at Shigaraki’s predatory eyes. He was wonderfully terrifying and despite being so close to death you had never felt more alive. You finally nodded.

Shigaraki’s sinister grin grew larger, stretching up and splitting into his cheeks at your answer. “I thought so,” he snarled and then roughly shoved two fingers inside you without any warning, shivering at the sound of your harsh cries.

You keened, clawing at his chest as he roughly pumped his fingers in and out of your gummy hole. He was being so rough that it almost hurt, but at the same time the overwhelming sense of pleasure he was giving you was unbearable. “Shig,” you hissed out, not even able to say his whole name. You let out another breathy moan as he pushed the pads of his fingers against a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh?” he commented, grin growing impossibly longer. “You like that?” he cooed, bending his head down to the side of your neck and inhaling loudly. He could smell how sweet your blood was, but more importantly, how sweet your soul was. With a purr of satisfaction, he let his tongue slip past his lips and he ran it along the muscle of your neck.

You squirmed at the feeling of Shigaraki’s freezing tongue on your neck, it almost seemed like he was tasting you. Another high whine escaped your lips when he suddenly slipped in another finger, scissoring you open for him. You wanted more of him and with a newfound sense of infatuation, you lifted your hands back to his chest and ran them along the planes of his muscles before letting them come to rest at the nape of his neck. You harshly wound your almost numb fingers into his hair and yanked his head up causing him to grunt in surprise. Not wasting any more time you practically smashed your lips into his nipping harshly at his bottom lip.

Shigaraki hissed into the kiss as he swiped his tongue into your mouth, and he slipped his free hand back around your neck, digging his nails into your neck. A deep grumble of satisfaction echoed from his chest and you pressed your chest against his in a futile attempt to get closer to him.

You whined needly into the kiss when he started to circle your clit roughly with his thumb. “Shit,” you whimpered as you tore your lips away from his to throw your head back against the rock, your breathing becoming more erratic.

“You’re a nasty one,” Shigaraki harshly whispered against your lips, grinning as he felt you clamp down on his fingers. “You like getting fingered by me? A killer, a monster?”

You nodded feverishly, chanting out a string of yeses as you felt the coil in your tummy start to tighten as he pressed his thumb down harder on your clit.

“Yeah you do,” Shigaraki praised as he kept his pace. He hummed, tilting his head down to look at his fingers and letting out a groan when he saw how wet they were with your slick. He could feel your hips starting to buck up against his hand and your hands tugging on his hair harder.

Sparks of pleasure were starting to tingle up your spine and your tummy was beginning to feel impossibly tight. You were nearly incoherent, your whines and whimpers growing louder and louder. “I think,” you hissed, taking a shuddering breath as your bleary eyes focused in on the monster above you, “m’ gonna,” you tried again, but let out a yelp when Shigaraki suddenly shoved a fourth finger in.

“Poor thing,” Shigaraki taunted, his breaths becoming heavy as he watched you start to shake beneath him, tears beginning to wet your eyelashes, “go on and be a good girl and cum for me, pet.”

That was all you needed to send you over and a sob of pleasure escaped you as you writhed against him, holding his ice-cold form close to yours. Tears streamed down your cheeks as he whispered snide comments in your ear, still harshly pumping his fingers out of your hole.

And then you heard a shout.

It was your name, someone was shouting your name.

Shigaraki froze, fingers still inside of you, slowing down as he lifted his head from the side of your neck, “someone is looking for you? Must have lost their pet huh?” he teased, watching your face contort in fear.

Your pounding heart sank in terror. Midoriya had wandered in here looking for you. Why would he do that? Your fingers dug into Shigaraki’s scalp more harshly, trying to anchor him to you.

“Nervous?” Shigaraki hummed, red eyes flicking to the wheat to your left. He knew whoever was in here was getting close.

“Please,” you whimpered, fresh tears starting to roll down your cheeks, “please don’t.” You flinched when Midoriya shouted for you again.

Shigaraki cackled, pulling his fingers out of your hole with a loud squelch. He remained silent watching you grow more scared, hearing your heart pounding wildly in your chest. It made him want to take you even more. A soft glare caught his eye and he glanced down to see your knife on the ground and he quickly bent down and picked it up, twirling the blade between his long fingers.

“Shigaraki, please,” you begged, “please just leave him alone.”

“Still gotta eat, baby,” he snarled, grinning at your conflict.

You shook your head, grabbing at the bottom of his shirt, “then have me, don’t eat him.” You shook, feeling dread weigh heavy on your chest at your words, but you had to. You couldn’t let him hurt Midoriya. Not since it was your fault Midoriya walked in here in the first place.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened with interest and he slinked back down on top of you, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight, “well I suppose that could be arranged.”

You took a shuddering breath, as a quiet sob escaped you. “Okay,” you muttered, your heart was in your throat when you watched him lick his lips.

“One thing,” he murmured, bringing his lips down to yours again and darting his tongue out to wipe up your tears, “just gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nodded and then completely froze when you felt the cold metal of your own blade press against your neck.

“That’s it, good girl,” Shigaraki cooed, pushing the blade harder against your neck, transfixed on the way your soft skin broke around the serrated edges, bright red blood pilling around the knife. With a hiss, he lifted the blade and ran it down your neck, your chest, and your stomach before coming to a stop by your femoral artery in your inner thigh. He seemed to slither down your body before kneeling in between your legs and hungrily staring at your weeping slit.

You didn’t dare move as he pressed the tip of the blade to your inner thigh, feeling a sharp sting when it broke your skin. Your ears perked at the sound of his low groan before he pressed his lips to your inner thigh and sharply sucked on your skin making you let out a hiss.

“Sweet,” Shigaraki moaned, licking his lips as he continued to lap at the cut on your thigh. With a satisfied sigh, he ran his hands on top of your thighs before harshly digging his fingers into your muscle and yanking your forward till you were right in front of his face.

Your breathing was starting to grow heavy again as you propped yourself up on your elbows watching him with lidded eyes as he laid a heavy arm across your tummy and pressed your blade to the side of your abdomen.

Midoriya shouted your name again and Shigaraki grinned, and suddenly licked a long stripe up the center of your slit making you gasp.

The knife at your side slid down your skin, splitting it open and letting blood trickle down your sides. “I said be quiet,” Shigaraki growled, tearing his gaze away from your center to stare you down.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek hard as he looked back down. He let out a soft breath before inhaling sharply, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Your nerves literally felt like they were sparking at the thought of Midoriya finding you here… like this. With him, with the monster with a split smile, sharp teeth, and red eyes face first in your pussy.

You bit back a loud whine when he licked up your center again, a low growl rumbling in his chest making you shake from the vibrations of his voice.

Shigaraki chuckled before continuing to lap at your slit. You were so sweet, the sweetest thing that could have ever fallen into his hands. He dug his fingers into the soft skin on your stomach as he started to grow more aggressive with his actions. His eyes flicked up to see that you were no longer watching him, but you were laying back down with your forearm over your eyes, and he grinned as he placed a chaste kiss to your clit before sucking on it harshly.

Your eyes shot open as you tried to conceal your moans with your palm, biting at your skin to keep quiet as he ate you out.

Shigaraki groaned quietly, swallowing down your slick greedily as your hips ground down against his face. “So fucking good,” he muttered between breaths.

You were starting to grow desperate as mewls slipped past your lips. Another shout of your name had you clenching around nothing which didn’t go unnoticed.

A deep chuckle slipped past Shigaraki’s lips, “slut,” he hissed. “You want him to find you?” He asked as he glanced down at your pussy, “so fucking wet you’re dripping everywhere,” he groaned palming himself through his jeans as he brought his lips back to your clit and sucked hard.

“Oh god,” you whined, your nails dug into the rock wincing when the knife at your side cut at your skin again. But you didn’t even seem to care about being quiet anymore, the pain and pleasure you were feeling was starting to become overwhelming. Your face was growing hot with shame at the sloppy sounds of Shigaraki’s tongue in your hole.

“Y/n!” Midoriya’s panicked voice echoed throughout the field, “where are you?”

“He’s getting close,” Shigaraki hummed and he brought his hand back up to your clit to start rubbing harsh circles, making you sob. He grinned, feeling your thighs starting to shake on his shoulders, “you gonna be quiet?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to bite back your moans and cries. Everything was becoming too much for you as you started to reach your high. With your hand over your mouth you let out another high keen and then squirmed feeling the knife cut into you once more, this time he dragged the blade down the center of your abdomen.

“Are you crying?” Shigaraki chastised as he spit onto your slit before lapping up his spit and your slick. He wanted you to scream, come undone and have your friend come see you like, all spread out and fucked over by him.

Your toes curled inside your boots as you felt your stomach muscle tighten, you were sniffling and crying as he delivered a quick slap on your clit before placing his cold mouth over it again, sucking hard. Footsteps sounded behind you and you leaned your head back, hearing the sound of shoes crunching through the wheat.

He was close, too close. Guilt clawed at your insides as you listened to Midoriya’s footsteps. You were so sick for doing this. Your eyes widened in shock when Shigaraki slipped two fingers inside your hole and began pumping his fingers fast, instantly pushing you over the edge. “Oh fuck,” you cried out hoarsely as you were thrown over the edge, your whole body trembling as Shigaraki laughed from between your legs.

“Y/n?” Midoriya’s voice called out again, “was that you?”

You were practically sobbing from overstimulation as Shigaraki continued to roughly circle your clit with the pads of his thumb, “s’too much,” you whined quietly, barely able to watch him rise up from the ground.

“Oh we’re just getting started,” he cooed, red eyes focusing on the scarlet blood beading from your cuts. With an animalistic growl, he leaned down, licking a long stripe up your bare stomach, shivering at the taste of your blood, while he stepped out of his jeans.

Another whine hissed through your lips when looked at the large bulge in his boxers. “Take this off,” you muttered, bringing your hands down to the base of his shirt and running your hands underneath the stiff fabric.

Shigaraki hissed as your warm hands ran up his chest, and to his surprise you lightly rolled his nipples between two fingers, tearing a low whine from his lips.

A lazy smile stretched across your lips at the sound of his whine, it sent shockwaves straight to your core. “Sensitive?” you cooed, copying his words from earlier. With another quick movement of your hands, you were pulling his shirt up, and he quickly yanked the fabric over his head and threw it to the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight of his body. His pale skin was covered in thick scars, and when the moonlight hit him right you could see his form phase.

“Y/n! C’mon, this isn’t funny!” Midoriya shouted again, he sounded scared.

At this point, you now could really care less if Midoriya saw you or not, all of your rambling thoughts had been pushed aside as you stared down Shigaraki with lidded eyes. You quickly hooked a leg around his thin waist tugging him in closer to you as you pressed your bare chest to his, “c’mon,” you mewled into his ear.

Shigaraki shivered, pupils were blown at the feeling of your chest rubbing against his. He wasn’t a fan of the power shift between you two but the moment he felt your warm hand palm him through his boxers, all of his thoughts dissolved, “fuck,” he hissed hips bucking into your touch.

You grinned again, this time slipping your hand past the band of his boxers and wrapping your hand around his length. “Oh look at you,” you muttered against the shell of his ear as he shook above you while you ran your thumb over the head of his dick, smearing pre over the tip.

“Shit, shit,” Shigaraki hissed, hips stuttering as you continued to stroke him.

“You’re not so scary after all, huh?” you cooed, gently biting his earlobe, “maybe you just needed a good fuck?”

Shigaraki shuddered, nodding into your neck. Hissing as you squeezed him tightly in your hand before releasing him.

“Yeah, you poor thing” you hummed as you began grinding your slit against his dick, cooing into his ear when his breath stuttered.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered against your neck, hands gripping your hips harshly as he rutted his clothed dick against your wet slit, “need you - shit - need you to fuck me,” Shigaraki practically begged, his voice high and whiney.

You let out a whimper, “you do?” you smirked. “Go ahead and lay down for me, I’ll take care of you,” you purred, completely unaware of the wheat by you starting to shake with movement. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched Shigaraki move from you and lay down on the rock, allowing you to move and straddle his waist, letting your hands rest on his bare chest. He was breathing heavily as he kept his eyes trained on yours. “There ya go,” you muttered, reaching a hand down to grab his dick through the cloth of his boxers again.

Shigaraki let out a low groan, hips bucking again as you pulled him out and ran the head of his dick through your slit. You were so hot against him, it was driving him mad. “Fuck, please,” he croaked, eyebrows pinched as he dug his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

You grinned again, your breathing starting to quicken as you lined him up with your entrance, slick dripping down your inner thighs as you began to push down on his length. “Shit,” you whimpered, eyelids fluttering at the sting of him stretching out your hole.

Shigaraki hissed, pointed teeth dropping over his bottom lip as he felt you clamping down around him, “fuck,” he panted, “you’re so -hmph- tight,” he growled. He glanced up at your face, entranced by the way you looked as he bottomed out, and then he snapped his hips up, grinning as you cried out in surprise.

“I didn’t say,” you paused as another mewl escaped past your lips when he snapped his hips up again, “you could start.”

Shigaraki shook his head, “don’t fuckin’ care,” he hissed, taking back control as he started a menacing pace, grinning as he slammed you down on his dick, your slick starting to coat his thighs as you writhed and moaned above him.

Words failed you once more as you slumped forward, nuzzling your nose into his neck as he thrusted up into you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pinching his skin while you whined again loudly.

Then in the haze of everything you lifted your gaze and locked your gaze with a pair of green ones. You froze, eyes wide as Midoriya stared you down through the wheat.

His lips were parted in shock as he watched your face contort as another whimper fell from your lips.

In that time, Shigaraki had quickly flipped you over, never once pulling out as he continued to slam into you. He grinned, red eyes glancing up at the wheat, “seems like he found you, pet.” He inhaled sharply when you clamped back down on him again, tearing a heavy groan from him.

“Midoriya,” you said hoarsely, barely able to push out the words as you tilted your head back against the rock to look at him. You probably could imagine how shocked he was seeing you like this, tears streaming down your face, blood streaking your skin, and an actual monster fucking you right there.

Shigaraki growled, running his tongue up the side of your neck, thrusts growing more aggressive as he started to hit your cervix making you cry out.

“Fuck,” you sobbed your gaze sliding back to Shigaraki who had grabbed the knife again and held it to your jugular. Your feelings of embarrassment started to creep back into your chest, making it feel tight at the sheer thought of Midoriya just standing there and watching.

“He’s scared,” Shigaraki said lowly into your ear, grunting as you ran your nails down his back, “I can smell it on him,” he drawled, saliva now trailing down the sides of his mouth.

You whimpered, tucking your forehead into Shigaraki’s shoulder as he hoisted one of your legs up higher, hitting you deeper.

“He can’t see me the way you can,” Shigaraki hissed, grinning maliciously at Midroiya who was still frozen. All Midoriya was able to see was a skeletal figure cloaked in black with two red eyes staring right at him.

“Please,” you hiccuped, grinding down against Shigaraki as he bottomed out, “leave him alone, we had a deal.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Midoriya stuttered out, eyes glued to your form as the creature above you slammed into you. The monster was grinning at him, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. He could see you in the monster's grasp, but just barely, most of its cloak and wispy form had you covered.

He could hear you, whining and whimpering and the wet slaps of skin against skin, it was loud enough to make heat rise to his face.

Shigaraki cackled softly as he gave you open mouthed kisses on your neck, now focusing in on the steady beat of your arteries. You were delicious, so sweet and innocent, just what he needed to get him through another year of purgatory.

You let out another loud cry, heat spreading across your face like fire as you felt your tummy start to coil with tension again. It was getting to be too much for you again, the pain from your cuts, the pleasure from Shigaraki, and the shame of having Midoriya watch. This night had been a whirlwind of events and you had even forgotten why you had come out here in the first place.

“You like him watching you?” Shigaraki growled into your ear, “I can tell you do, slut,” he hissed, red eyes glancing up at Midoriya who was still stuck in place. “Fuck, yeah you do, can feel you clamping down on me,” he hissed and then pressed the knife harder into your neck.

A heavy sob wracked through your form as you shook against Shigaraki’s form. You felt like you were hanging over the edge of a cliff, about to drop into a dark abyss as the tension in your body kept rising. Words weren’t even an option for you at this point anymore.

Shigaraki took a deep breath, scarlet eyes blazing briefly as he took in the scents around him. You were so sweet, like honey, but there was a new scent that was starting to overwhelm yours, a musky scent that made him frown. It was coming from the guy in front of him. He inhaled again, it was lust, and made him angry.

You grit your teeth as Shigaraki slammed his hips into yours hard, grinding down briefly before continuing at a brutal force. “I can’t,” you panted, trying to not cum yet. The instinctual part of you knew that once this was over you had no idea what was going to happen to you or Midoriya.

Shigaraki pressed his face back into your neck, “you can, just a little more,” he grunted, eyes nearly rolling back as you clamped down hard on his dick again. With a new sense of urgency fueled by his anger he stretched a hand back down towards your aching clit and began roughly circling it with two fingers, grinning at your whimpers.

“Y/n,” Midoriya choked out, the overwhelming feeling of dread anchoring him in place, “what’s happening?”

You shook your head, more tears streaming down your face as Shigaraki instantly pulled out and flipped you over, “Midoriya, just go!” you croaked. Cold hands grabbed your hips roughly and yanked you back on the rock, your knees scraping against the cool stone cutting into your skin. “Oh god,” you whined out as Shigaraki wrapped a thick forearm around your midsection and yanked you to his chest.

Shigaraki clenched his jaw as he spread your legs on top of his lap and slammed you back down on his dick with a loud squelch. He was pissed, it seemed all you really cared about was this green hair frat boy in front of you now.

Your cheeks burned with shame as you turned away from Midoriya’s gaze that was locked in on your chest. Another lewd whimper fell from your lips as Shigaraki slammed you down over and over on him at a grueling pace, snarling in your ear as you cried.

“Your little friends gonna just stay there and watch for a bit,” Shigaraki hissed, brows furrowing as you reached up behind him to yank on his hair. “Don’t fucking look at him,” he added harshly as he tore his gaze away from you and stared down Midoriya.

Your breathing became labored as Shigaraki pressed the pads of his fingers back on your clit again trying to get you to cum, but the fear inside of you had been growing steadily since Midoriya had actually shown up. Despite that you still felt yourself tensing up again and you rolled your hips back against Shigaraki’s dick involuntarily looking for your release.

Shigaraki grinned as he brought his free hand back to your throat, squeezing it tightly as your hips started to stutter against his and your legs began to shake. “Go ahead,” he snarled, raking his nails across your ribs, “go ahead and cum.”

Colors and black spots instantly swam into your field of vision as you started to convulse against him, spraying his dick with your release as you choked out a strangled sob. Your mind was completely blank as Shigaraki continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his hands tightening on your throat and chest.

Shigaraki grunted, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder as your pussy fluttered around him while you came. His thrusts were becoming sloppy before he let out a high whine before painting your walls white with his release.

You were shaking, tears running down your cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight as you felt Shigaraki’s cum drip back down out of your hole and onto his thighs. Black spots still swam in your vision as your body crumbled back against his, completely spent. You thought you heard Midoriya scream your name, but the ringing in your ears was too loud to even comprehend much anymore.

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispered into your ear, as he looked towards Midoriya who had started to shake, “you did so good for me.”

You merely nodded against Shigaraki’s shoulder as you tried to control your erratic breathing. A wave of relief washed over you at his words. He was going to follow through with your deal then. A meek smile was all you could give Midoriya before letting your exhaustion pull you into it’s dark depths.

With you now limp in his arms, Shigaraki’s grin split back into his cheeks as he raked his predatory gaze over your body and then to Midoriya’s. He swiped his bottom lip with the flat of his tongue before setting you down on the rock, never letting the green haired frat boy out of his sight.

----

That night three people went missing.

Denki Kaminari, Y/n L/n, and Izuku Midoriya all went missing between one am and three am on the thirtieth of October.

Your faces were plastered over campus, covering the missing persons papers from years previous. Months went by and season changed and just like all the other before the three of you, you three were never found.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #grapefruit #smh these new tags #anyway #tw. gore #tw. dacryphilla #tw. violence #tw. character death #tw. non con

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