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vampire-exgirlfriend · 2 years ago

Note

I’m leaving this little request in your mailbox with absolutely zero pressure.

Eddie Munson (because I’m nothing if not predictable…)

[REUNITE] and/or [MASK]

You know I’ll soak up everything you write like a sponge, even if it’s for a fandom I’m not part of, so I can’t wait to see what you write whether you write my ask or not! Have fun!! 💕

Oh Jax as if I wasn't going to write whatever you asked me to lol somehow it ended up being 4k words of emotional pain and smut.

Lonely is the Word

Pairing: Eddie Munson x femreader

Words: 4k

Rating: E

Warnings: some angst, smut

masterlist

I saw some graffiti once that said "love is like broken glass." And if that's true, Eddie Munson was the boot that had shattered me, ground me into nothing more than particles.

I couldn't even blame him, not really, not after what he had been through.

So I waited. Time passed and his physical wounds had healed, but Eddie stayed behind, the walls he built growing higher and higher, covering over with brambles and thorns and vines to keep me out, to keep everyone out. As much as I wanted to, I was never able to fit in the spaces he had hallowed out of himself, cutting myself on the jagged edges whenever I tried. So, bloody and bruised, I left.

Not just him, but Hawkins altogether.

As summer faded away, I loaded my things in the trunk of my shitty, hand me down station wagon, and picked up Robin the next morning, driving the two of us to New York where Robin was starting a theater program at NYU. I hadn't even said goodbye to Eddie. I doubt he would have even seen me if I tried.

And now it was January, cold and bleak midwinter. The elevator doors closed and regret clogged up my throat as I saw my reflection in the gleaming metal. The dress Robin had managed to snag for me from the costume department could only be described as decadent - black velvet that clung to my waist and breasts, the neckline a deep v that settled just above my belly button. It fell to the floor in a tumble of fabric, a long slit up the side, the sleeves ending at my wrists. Atop my cheek bones sat a Venetian mask, black and gold and secured by a black ribbon.

I felt beautiful. I felt ridiculous.

A warm hand settled on the small of my back and I turned, giving Robin a wan smile. She had worn a black velvet suit to match my outfit, her hair falling in messy waves around her white and gold mask.

"You look killer, you know," she chirped, trying to bring excitement back to the moment.

And I should be excited, I knew that. This party was going to be insane - invites were incredibly hard to come by and I knew how stoked Robin was for this. So I ticked my smile higher and clutched my friend's hand, squeezing gently.

"You look killer," I answered, swinging our joined hands between us. "Thank you for bringing me."

"There's no one else I'd rather crush some fancy masquerade with."

It hadn't been easy for Robin, watching her oldest friend crumble into ruins at the loss of the love of her young life. But she took it like a champ, doing everything she could to bring some light back to the situation. And when her NYU acceptance letter came in, it was a no-brainer that we go together, that we try and escape the ghosts of that spring.

Nancy had gone to California with Jonathan and Steve...well, someone had to stay with Eddie. So Robin called him most nights and they giggled like idiots until sleep claimed them.

The elevator doors slid open as they reached the penthouse. Robin extended an arm. "M'lady," she teased.

A second set of doors opened and I would have sworn we had walked into another world. Original art in gilded frames covered the walls and waiters in all black, masks included, skirted around the room, trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres braced on their splayed fingertips. The lights were low and we had to squint to make out the darker corners, the people who had already found their way to them, masks abandoned, bodies and hands occupied.

"Remind me how you got us in here?" I asked, her eyes wide.

"Uh…remember my thing for hot older women?" Robin whisper-yelled.

I nodded, my eyes refusing to settle on any one thing.

"I fooled around with the Dean of Performing Arts."

I turned to her, my mouth falling open. "You did not?!"

"What? She's only like forty." Robin shrugged. "She's insanely hot. And we only live once, kitten. Better make the best of it."

"You're out of your mind!"

All Robin said was "yes" before leading us toward the nearest waiter and snagging two glasses of champagne. It was bubbly, tart on my tongue, and warm as it hit the pit of my gut. My eyes wandered off in search of the hors d'oeuvres, darting over the other guests who were draped in couture designs. I snagged a bacon wrapped fig and then another, flashing the waiter a stupid grin as I chewed. A hand rose from across the room and Robin perked up at the sight of the brunette woman in red, her dress a frothy confection that wrapped around her like a cloud.

"Duty calls," she whispered, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek before abandoning me for who I assumed was the "insanely hot" dean.

There is a feeling that comes with being watched. That feeling only intensifies when being watched by someone who has seen the most vulnerable parts of you. It's a sort of heavy awareness that pushes at all of your defenses.

That feeling descended on me, leaving me feeling hot and cold, bare and vulnerable, like prey. My eyes scanned the room from behind my mask, lingering here and there, but I found no one watching, everyone too engrossed in their drinks or their company or their hidden, wandering hands. I backed through the crowd and found a spot near the doors that led to the balcony, watching transfixed as the music took on a darker tone, the party slowly melting from upscale gathering to bacchanalian revelry. For a moment, it was easy to forget the unease that ate at me as these upper east side yuppies forget their sense of propriety.

And then I felt it, the watching, like hands peeling away the layers of my borrowed dress. This time my eyes landed on familiar chocolate curls and my stomach dropped, landing somewhere near my feet.

No, that was impossible.

They were gone as quickly as they appeared, disappeared into the crowd. I whirled around, trying to find Robin. My eyes darted over the crowd, looking for the white and gold mask, finally landing on her familiar golden hair. But she was too engrossed in her conversation to notice me, to see the panic on my face.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my brain screaming that there was something I was missing, something important, just as a warmth bloomed at my back, a heat so heartbreakingly familiar.

"Hey you."

I knew that voice. I'd heard it a thousand times before in a thousand different ways: soft and intimate near the shell of my ear, shouting at me from across the room, caught in a whine as I touched him, touched him, touched him.

I turned and there he was, his hair pulled back, a black and red mask over the top half of his face. He was here. He was whole. He was…wearing a suit?

"Eddie?"

"Hey, baby," he murmured, and his voice drew me in, dragged me down, like it did every time. For a moment I forgot how angry I still was, how hurt.

But then he grinned and it all came back, crashing over me like a wave against the beach. "What the fuck?" I hissed, looking over my shoulder, looking for escape. I had wanted this so badly, wanted him, but now all I wanted was to run away.

Eddie's face fell, his soft mouth pulling down at the edges. He was quick to straighten it though, holding his hands up in surrender as I pulled away from him. The soft candlelight glinted off the metal of his rings. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I know that doesn't mean shit and you hate my guts but I just…I couldn't keep it in anymore. I'm so sorry."

"I've been gone for six months, Eddie! And there were five months before that when an 'I'm sorry' would have been way more appropriate." My eyes narrowed and I crossed my arms over my chest. He opened his mouth and I held up a hand to silence him. "I get it, okay. You went through something horrible, something I'll never truly understand. Rob still has nightmares; I know whatever it was was horrible. I wasn't there, so I don't really understand. But you wouldn't let me help you, you wouldn't even let me try to be there for you! I go on a stupid spring break vacation and I come back to my boyfriend on trial for murder and an earthquake that bulldozed my house and you won't even talk to me!" A few heads turned toward the sound of my raised voice.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing the toe of his shiny dress shoe against the marble tile.

"And where the fuck did you get a suit?"

Eddie snorted a laugh. "Robin."

"She knows you're here?"

"She scored me a ticket."

My eyes flew over the room, landing on my roommate who leaned against a column on the other side of the open space. Robin dropped her gaze when she realized she'd been caught, her smile slipping.

I sighed, shaking my head, buzzing with irritation and resentment and a sadness I thought I had left behind. "You two are unbelievable. I can't believe you, Eddie." I dropped my hands and turned away from him, pushing through the double doors that led to the balcony, goosebumps erupting over my skin as soon as the January night air swept over me. I stomped toward one of the ridiculously fancy fire pits, flames dancing in the dark, the warmth seeping into my bones. So frustrated that I could scream, I stared into the fire, willing my nerves to settle. Footsteps broke my newfound calm and my hands clenched into fists again.

"Jesus Christ, it's freezing out here." Eddie rounded the corner, already pulling the jacket from his shoulders to wrap around me. I fought the urge to snap at him, to shrug off his offering. But it was warm and it smelled like him and oh, god, it was too much. He reached back, untying the ribbon that held his mask to his face and I felt the telltale burn of impending tears when I looked at him for the first time in six months.

Eddie was almost exactly like I remembered. His eyes were still soft, so dark and warm I wanted to drown in them. His plush mouth curved up into an awkward smile that I had memorized almost as soon as I met him. I knew every freckle that lay over his body. I knew just where to touch to make him laugh or to make him moan. I knew what he sounded like just before he came, when my name was a whimper in his mouth. But that Eddie had been a boy. Whoever stood in front of me now was definitely a man. There was a hardness to him that I had never seen before, a hollowness, a haunting.

"What are you doing here, Eddie?" An old softness crept into my voice, the one I saved just for him.

He tossed his mask to the bench tucked into the corner beside us and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was dead."

My face pinched in confusion. "What?"

"I died down there, in the Upside-down. I was dead." He said it as if it were old news, as if it wasn't earth shattering. "I remember the pain, I remember the blood, I remember Dustin holding me as it all went dark. I don't remember how they got me home. Hell, I barely remember the trial. The lights were on, but no one was home."

I nodded, angling my body toward his. He stared down at his shoes, refusing to meet my eyes. Slowly, gently, as if afraid to scare him off, I reached for him. His dark eyes met mine and it was as if whatever wall lay between us split right down the middle.

"I couldn't stand the sight of myself, so how could I expect you to?"

And just like that, my heart broke all over again. "Eddie, there was never a single moment where I wanted anything but you." Our on again, off again had been in an off period when that Spring Break had come around, but I had genuinely believed it was just another one of our stupid games, a parting meant to make the reunion sweeter, hotter. "I was coming home to you."

He nodded, a sad smile pulling at his lips. "I know. But something broke in me and I had no idea how to fix it. I wasn't gonna let you wait around while I figured it out. It just wasn't fair."

My voice lowered, my festering irritation blooming painfully. "What wasn't fair was you making that choice for me. I get that you had some things to work through that a girlfriend wasn't super conducive to, but we could have had a conversation about that. You could have just dumped me."

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips as he really thought about what I said. But then his eyes met mine and I didn't miss the heat in them, they way they shined in the firelight. He pulled his hands from pockets and stepped forward, grabbing my wrist and tugging me toward a door I hadn't noticed before.

"Eddie, let go of me." I tried to yank my hand back but he didn't give an inch, breathing a soft 'hell yeah' when he found the door wasn't locked, pushing it open and jerking me inside what looked like a small library. Two leather chairs flanked an ornate marble fireplace and a low, plush leather couch sat on the opposite side, its back to the massive built-ins stuffed full of books and sculptures. It was dark, the only light coming from the moon and the lights that had been strung up on the balcony, filtering in softly through the gauzy sheer curtains. The door clicked shut behind us and when Eddie's hand fell to the knob, he slid the lock home.

A familiar spark lit in my belly, a heat that had always promised pleasure, that only took root when he looked at me the way he was now, the way he hadn't in over a year. His eyes were black in the dim room, his face serious as he pinned me with that heavy gaze. And then he was on me, his hands cradling my face, his mouth crushing to mine. My surprised gasp lowered into a moan when he licked into my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip.

"It was never about living without you," he mumbled against my lips. "I just didn't know how to live with myself anymore. But I think I've finally started to figure it out."

"Eddie," I whispered, and it hurt. It broke my heart that he felt that way, that he had lived in a world where he didn't feel like he belonged, even more so than he had when we met, both outcasts and not too eager to change that fact. It hurt even more that it had all played out this way, neither of us able to reach out to the other.

Eddie backed up toward the couch, dropping to splay over the cushions. He pulled me over his lap, my hands finding his hair and tangling in the curls I had managed to free from the hair tie. He sucked at my neck, his mouth hotter than I remembered as his hand slid beneath the slit of my dress. He tugged off my mask before his hands fell, rough fingertips sliding over the skin of my thigh, higher toward the juncture of my legs. I knew if he touched me there, I would forget every reason why this was a bad idea. Yanking at his tie, I wriggled my hands beneath the collar of his shirt, my fingers meeting texture they'd never felt before. Eddie sucked in a breath and I pulled back, my eyes darting over his face.

"You don't have to…," he started, but I cut him off, pressing my lips to his, gentle fingers slowly unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. When I peeled back the stiff white fabric, my eyes fell to the familiar demon head tattoo and then the thick knot of scar tissue below it.

It looked like…a bite. Like something's teeth had torn through him, ripping chunks of his flesh away.

There was really nothing to say. So I leaned forward and planted my lips to the ruined skin, leaving my tongue over the rough texture before kissing a trail up his neck. "I want to though."

His hand slid beneath the band of my underwear and he groaned when he found me wet for him, his middle finger gliding easily between my folds. "Oh Christ," he groaned, pressing lightly. I felt that tremble in his wrist as he held himself back from pressing inside me. "You're always so wet for me," he said, as if it hadn't been a year since he'd touched me like this.

I didn't bother reminding him, just ground down against his hand, searching out that delicious friction. "We're gonna get caught," I panted against his lips, tilting his face back to look up at me. The sight was divine, his mouth parted, his eyes glassy with need.

"Nah, I locked the door," he said, leaning forward in search of my neck.

"Not the other door, dingus," I reminded him.

He chuckled before licking a stripe over my throat, his teeth worrying at my skin. My head fell back on my shoulders. "We'll be quick. And then we'll go back to your place and I'll take my time with you, apologize however you want me to, baby."

When he put it like that, it sounded too good to argue over. All that pain and anger, all the questions, would still be there. Maybe it was better to just take what I needed, what I knew he could give me.

"When do you leave?" I asked, heart already breaking all over again at the idea.

Eddie's hand stilled between my thighs, his free one rising to cradle my jaw as if I were something precious. "I'm here until you send me away." He kissed me once, gently. "My ticket was one way. Harrington's back at your place, in case I needed a getaway driver."

"Okay, good." I tore my hands from his hair and dropped them to his waist, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt, urging him to lift his hips so I could tug his pants over the slight curve of his ass.

"Are you saying I need a getaway driver?" His breath was hot against my neck, his tone teasing.

"Shut up." I felt the familiar chill of his rings against my skin, his thumb brushing a circle over my clit. He was kissing me again, little groans falling from his lips to mine. It was so easy to fall back into him, to pick up where we left off before life turned ugly and tore us apart. One thick finger slipped inside and I cried out at the shock. Eddie's eyes widened, sliding to the unlocked door, before covering my mouth with his palm.

"Don't get us caught, sweetheart," he mumbled, a second finger joining the first. I moaned against his palm, my eyes rolling back as I rode his hand. "That's it, that's good, right?"

I nodded, unable to speak past the fingers that pressed into my mouth. It was good, but it wasn't enough, not after everything, not after the waiting and the wanting. His belt came apart in my hands, the button of his slacks slipping easily from the hole that held it closed, and then he was in my hands, hard and hot. His eyes rolled back when I stroked him, my fingers not quite able to close around the thick of him. He whined and then suddenly I was falling, the hand that had been pressed to my mouth coming to cradle my head as he dropped me to lay back on the couch.

Eddie tugged my underwear down my thighs, shoving the soaked lace in his pocket and hitching my leg over his hip. I felt the blunt head of his cock nudge at me as his hips jerked forward, impatient.

"Shit, I wanna be gentle with you, but I...I don't think..." His voice was hoarse, his forehead coming to rest against mine. His hands held my wrists over my head and it was all I could do to arch my back, to try and get closer.

"There's time for gentle later." It was true and it was all I could say before he pushed forward, burying himself in me.

I had almost forgotten the near impossible stretch, the way my body had to adjust to the size of him. But then he was moving, a long, slow stroke that pulled him nearly all the way out before thrusting forward and stealing my breath. I thought my heart would beat out of my chest in those heavy seconds before he started to thrust in earnest. Slow and controlled melted into deep and hard and I couldn't swallow down the moans that poured from my throat as he fucked me.

"God damn it, sweetheart," he muttered. "Hush." I couldn't, I wouldn't, and I whined again as he hit that spot up high and I saw stars. "Fucking hell." He crashed his mouth to mine, his tongue curling behind my teeth, swallowing down the sounds I made. He tasted like smoke and spearmint gum, he tasted like home.

Eddie rose up, his hands finding my knees, spreading them wide. His eyes darted between my face and the place where he disappeared inside of me, the sounds of labored breathing and wet flesh growing louder. His hair was wild around his face, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. One hand slid down my inner thigh to where we were joined and began to rub quick circles against my clit. I knew he wouldn't last much longer. I knew I wouldn't either. I palmed at my breasts through the material of my dress, desperate to be naked, to have Eddie's skin pressed to mine, to be able to touch and taste and take our time.

Later.

"Baby," he groaned. "I'm not gonna last. You feel too good, missed you too much. Are you still in the pull?"

I just nodded, a low groan crawling up my throat. It wasn't more than another minute until I felt him bloom within me, that familiar heat uncoiling sticky and deep. Eddie bit out my name from between clenched teeth, his hips stilling. Without a word, he pulled out of me, dropping to his knees on the floor. I moved to sit up, but his large hands found my hips and tugged my ass to the edge of the couch. He winked before ducking beneath the skirt of my dress.

"Oh my god," I choked out at the first pass of his tongue. He slid two fingers forward, their passage eased by the slick of his cum as he pumped them back and forth. My back arched when he pulled my clit between his lips, tiny shocks like lightning pulsing over my skin. Even though he was hidden by the black velvet, the sound of his mouth on my cunt was obscene. Eddie moaned, curling his fingers forward. I felt that clench in my lower belly, the muscles of my legs flexing where he'd draped them over his shoulders. His teeth grazed my clit and I saw stars. When he groaned against me I felt it, all fluttery vibration, and fell apart on his tongue, my back bowing off the couch, a filthy moan of his name falling from my lips.

"I missed that," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my thigh before lifting his head, setting my feet gently against the floor. He tucked himself back in his pants before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, wet and shining. "I missed you."

He tugged my dress back into place and laid his head in my lap. My fingers threaded through his curls, muscle memory at this point. "I missed you too. I honestly can't believe you're here."

"I don't know where we go from here," Eddie said as he propped his chin against my leg. He reached forward and grabbed my hand, tangling our fingers together. Just then he looked so much like the boy I had loved. "But I couldn't wait anymore to figure it out. And I love you too much to just let you go."

I opened my mouth to respond and the doors that led to the library burst open, giggles and rustling fabric floating into the room. Eddie sat up straight, his eyes going wide. I scooted up the couch, peeking over the back. Robin had herself wrapped around the dean, her hands disappearing beneath her bright red dress. She turned and our eyes met from across the open space, Robin's face flushing hot and red. Just as quickly as they had entered, she wheeled the older woman around awkwardly, backing her out of the room.

"This one's taken," was all she said before flashing two thumbs up and mouthing "hell yes!"

Eddie grinned, his dimples flashing. "At least someone's rooting for us."

I leaned forward, propping my elbow on my knee and resting my chin against my palm. This close I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his dark eyes. I smiled and it was real.

"I'm rooting for us."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things fic #my fic

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bluiex · 2 years ago

Note

Thinking about a thing where Grian and Scar meet at a bar while they're both trying to drown their sorrows over their last break-ups.

Grian's ex broke up with him because Grian wasn't a 'uwu' soft twink like they thought he was and had an actual personality instead of just being there for some kink. Grian normally wouldn't be upset over losing such a person, but he has to deal with the flying monkeys that are his last partners family because he 'dared to break up with their precious child instead of trying to make it work' and 'their child wasted so much time and money being with him, the least he could do is give them enough money to find a new apartment' and all other kinds of entitled bs. He's gotten really tired of dealing with it, police are zero help because the family hasn't done him any physical harm yet, and he just wants to forget about the whole situation...even if that mean he ends up black out drunk and hating himself the next day.

Scar's ex broke up with him seemingly out of nowhere, as the relationship seemed to be doing fine until his partner sat him down for a 'talk' and blindsided him. Scar asked for a reason, and kinda regrets doing so, because he was told 'he didn't acted at all like they thought he would. He was much more soft than they were expected them, and that he couldn't satisfy them like the last person they were with' and this all happen the day after he had took them on a date to do something his ex wanted to do for a long time but never had the chance to do. He's been a bit of a wreck after it happened, with him drowning his sorrows with a lot cake and ice-cream. And that was working until when he went to change his relationship status and saw a post from his ex about 'Celebrating 2 months with the new boo <3' which really stung, because he and his ex had only been broken up for 2 weeks at that point. So now he's seeing if a night of intense drinking take him back to the comfort that cake is no longer giving him.

It was just by chance the two ended up in the same bar, seated on stools a few feat away from each other, not knowing of the others existence until one complained rather loudly to the bartender about the situation they're in and the other chimed in with their also bad situation. They both then start talking to each other about how bad their exes were (after moving to a table to not annoy the bartender and other patrons), lips just getting looser and looser as they both continue drinking.

It ends up with them in a motel room together, waking up the next morning, just hating their last night selves and then noticing the other in the room. Cue panicking because neither remembers anything after maybe their 10th or so drink. And because they're both think something along the lines of 'Goddamn it, they're so cute/hot and I don't know if I had drunk sex with them or not and they're not going to want anything to do with me!'

(Don't drink because things are really rough kids, it's rather unhealthy and can lead to even worse things happening)

They never did do anything that night, sure they shared some sloppy kisses and intimate touches but nothing past that. Once they hit the bed they cuddled up and passed out

Scar is the first to ask for Grian's number, asking if they'd like to meet properly the next time they're free- Grian happily accepts it and thus their friendship to lovers begins

(So true so true. Only drink to have fun and be safe about it- never drink to dull out the feelings. trust me I would know, it isn't fun)

#long post #scarian #bluie gets an ask poggers

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troutpopulation · 1 year ago

Text

Shaving off the beard I went through hell to grow every morning is one thing. Its keeping myself under a blanket, teeling it to hush and I'll be back to feed it when night comes. Just stay put. Just be quiet, don't let anyone see you except old friends and family. And me. I'll be back for you tonight. Plucking that beard from the roots, thinning it forever, after years of dysphoria and torture to go on T feels like burning down a house. I cried with joy when my beard connected as a young boy. I built that home with my own two hands and I lived in it. And I loved it. And it loved me. For a decade I fought for this house and it fought for me back. And when the wax heats up I am lighting a match.

I mistook my indifference with how others percieve me and my curiosity for how fun and exciting femininity is for a fulltime commitment. I based the rest of my life around it. I found the man of my dreams who looks at me and sees a girl he loves and cherishes. And he cares for the boy I was, he kisses my stubble and shivers with delight at the sound of my deep voice and revels in the size of my tdick- or clit now. (Or always has been.) But he loves me as a woman.

When the world looks at me, sometimes a person catches a glimpse of my 5 o clock shadow or the bass in my voice and think "something happened here". I am a girl, tilted to an angle, adjusted to the left, an odd flavor, but a girl. I used to never need to explain my proximity to masculinity, to queerness. It was evident, a constant. A tomboy child to butch and boy and butch again. Gone femme, gone incognito, gone silent. I revelled in the anonymity. Straight passing. I loved that. The weight was off my shoulders, the eyes were off my skin. And I don't miss being stared at. I don't really know what I miss. Not T, I got what I wanted and kept what I needed. I don't want to be a man, I'm around them enough to not want any part of that again. I think I found myself through my transition, and I am scared of losing myself. When they see a woman I have no time to say "wait, something DID happen here" and tell them I've lived a thousand lives and was so many other people just to go back to square one because I thought since it didn't matter to me, I'd take the easiest option, the one that made people be the nicest to me, the one where transphobia was something I could ally against instead of bear the weight of it on my back every second I breathe. and yes! Maybe it makes me feel stupid to think I found an easy way out only to regret it! And maybe it was fun to learn to be a girl! Transition twice and watch my body go through a third puberty! I'm not allowed to say it, I know it. It was fun to progress and go, go forward, as much as I hated it, learning everything the other girls already knew.

I suppose I just wish all that struggle showed like it used to. I have done twice the work with nothing to show for it.

Overall, all that time, all that struggle. Just for net zero.

#detransition #detrans #writing #ok to rb if you relate #nonbinary #gender experiences ig #queer

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wrestlezon · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Door 2023 PPV: I am now Reviewer Zon

Brought to you by: having thought about & chitchatted about the matches and wanting to collect my thoughts in one place

Overall: I was satiated by the ppv purchase, which is the minimum one can hope for, BUT! I also frequently went "wow! This is incredible!" while watching which exceeded my expectations. I skipped out on Forbidden Door last year because I have only a passing familiarity with njpw, and i didn't end up having regrets about that later. I'm glad I got it this year however, because the matches were good and I think the alternate-universe me who skipped on FB2023 is missing out.

more match by match rambling within:

i missed out on zero hour cuz I was busy u_u

mjf vs tanahashi

it was okay. Nothing stuck out as good or bad. Entirely average, no real takeaway. I also didn't have a takeaway from the swerve vs tanahashi match yesterday either, which is like uhh whoa? because I think swerve is cool and there's usually some sort of cool thing he does with someone in a match. like at least one memorable moment. But I also was kind of busy on Saturday so I could've just missed something. Maybe I'm just not familiar with tanahashi (because: I'm not) and just don't know what's cool about him? I certainly didn't stumble upon any such knowledge in this ppv match or the collision match. (shrug emoji)

I did like his look, and mjf's too, though! black and cyan looked good on mjf :)c

I noticed mjf's antics very transparently in this match, which I didn't mind too much because I usually like his antics. I don't know if it's accurate, but I'm going to pretend that his handshake kick spot is a callback to his indie-mjf days and that that ties in to his whole "njpw is an indie e_e" thing. I'm imagining more depth to this match, to enjoy it more?

Match: Eh

Fun: Okay.

punk vs satoshi kojima

im a huge punk fan and i was really excited for his slowburn descent into heeldom. then he got injured twice in a row and brawl out happened for reals. That was sad. But that was then and this is now, and now I am just very excited to 1) see him back and 2) doing heelish things. I think it is cool for him to get boos. Maybe he'll do a heel thing about it.

Satoshi Kojima seems like a cool old wrestleguy with prestigious history that I'm unaware of. I am vaguely aware that he is or used to be in a tag team called tencozy, but that's the extent of my wrestling knowledge. I wouldn't mind seeing more of him.

I liked punk's roh interview reference because I was wondering if he would reference it in the match somehow and then he did. I enjoyed recognizing it. I also enjoyed his goof at the end about being confused about which tunnel to walk into: the good guy tunnel or the bad guy tunnel. It's a good bit, in part because I think a lot of people have already made a solid opinion about whether or not he's a villain. I hope he keeps teasing about being evil or not, I think it's fun and cool because I think it's entertaining when he's a sarcastic dickhead in the ring. tee hee. cm punk!! hee heeeeee

Match: Okay!

Fun: yaaayy it's punk ha ha yayyyyy

orange vs zack saber jr vs shibata vs garcia

match of the night. match of all time. what a good fucking match. all four of these wrestlers were on the same page and had a shared vision. the funniest men alive and the wrestling was great too. naming all the spots would be a lil silly on my part but: everyone taking turns kicking orange's ass, and the whole zsjr vs shibata thing with garcia were two immediate standouts that made me give this match the seal of bigtime approval before it was even close to ending. And then the ending was also good and not bad. Solid match. Gold standard. Definitely on the rubric to judge all other matches by. I loved this match.

the all atlantic championship is the greatest title in wrestling. The highs are quite high, and I don't think I've been disappointed in a match yet.

Match: Incredible. Holy shit

Fun: HELL YES !!!!

sanada vs jungle boy jack perry

what I know about sanada: not a lot. I know he is a conventionally attractive guy and certain people* have publicly talked, at length, about how kissable he looks. he is in a group called just 5 guys, and is their leader, so I'd assume that makes him the most Guy of all time?

what I know about jungle boy jack perry: he has grown out of having his character being a tarzan from the jungle, which is too bad, because without that he's kind of just A Guy, which is a little boring personality-wise. But he's does have a little bit of style and panache when it comes to wrestling and doing acrobatic moves.

Like the mjf tanahashi match, this one didn't do much for me. I dunno if following the incredible 4way match contributed to it lookin kinda mid or whatnot. But I raised my eyebrow higher at the postmatch stuff than I did anything in the actual match. Curious to see what jungle boy jack perry's next moves are, as I thought they would've built this up more before pulling the trigger on him betraying hook. He certainly has the potential to be interesting as an evil guy, and I hope he can grasp it.

*aka chuck "doesn't everyone have a list of guys from New Japan they'd want to kiss?" taylor

Match: Eh

Fun: yawn

the elite + eddie and iishi vs bcc + takeshita and umino

This match was awesome. I'm a big fan of eddie so I really liked all the angles having to do with eddie: him teaming with the young bucks just to get to claudio, his endless beef with claudio, his relationship with jon moxley. I liked how there were a lot of those and all the bits that involved those angles ruled. The extended trading of chops between moxley and eddie was cool and also funny when other people tried to get involved.

additionally, I think the young bucks are alright but they did a lot of moves in this match that made me go "oh shit!!! that was fucking cool!!!" and I can definitely see why people are big fans of the young bucks because of that.

I especially liked the ending because while eddie sabotaged the elite a bit in the match, it was his guy that won it for them in the end. the elite are a little mad, but also concerned, and eddie's brushing them off. it's all very good. I love eddie.

Match: Wow!

Fun: YES!!!

toni storm vs willow nightingale

I needed to collect myself after the previous match, I don't like the antics of the outsiders or toni storm, and I figured they wouldn't let willow have the aew women's championship in addition to the njpw strong(?) championship anyway. All these points contributed to me not focusing on this match, at all. Sorry Willow :(

Match: sorry

Fun: not really...

will ospreay vs kenny omega

what I know about these two is that they're both top-tier proficient wrestlers who are best when they're up against another proficient wrestler they can go full tilt against. And they did indeed go full tilt in this match. It was a long match full of back to back violences. I swear the end was just them exchanging finishers on each other and hanging on by a thread.

The match was very intense and materially good but here's the thing about that: I am a huge fucking weenie and it's actually too stressful for me. Also I yelped with actual irl concern when ospreay dropped kenny right on his head (was that by mistake or... is... that how you're supposed to do that move...?? Ospreay is so aggro by default I can't tell the difference). Mistake or not, the rest of the match was them out to kill each other anyway, so... Yeah.

Also! I dont know enough about either of these two's wrestle-histories to find the fun in the details and references. Only in the presence of learned Kenny Omega Experts did I nod, with only the barest of understanding, at the kamigoye implications. I am familiar with how protected one winged angel is and the connotations, so when I saw ospreay set it up I was like O_O!? NO WAY but the kickout at one was simultaneously a WHOA and a Phew... But it's like, not a fun kind of stress? Maybe it's because I'm also not really a fan of ospreay :/

Double also, and I do think this is personally interesting to consider the distinction here, but the way I go "grr, you nefarious heel!" at someone like punk or cage and the way I go "grr, you nefarious heel!" at don callis is totally different and I cant pin down why. I don't find it fun to hate on Don Callis for whatever reason, I just think he's dastardly! My suspension of disbelief breaks, and instead of enjoying the narrative I am left grumpy. Like come on, how can he get away with returning to the ring after being thrown out! Sure, the ref might have been preoccupied making sure these two competitors were still breathing, but still... grr! Is that not DQ worthy!? It is his job to be hated, and I do hate him, beyond all logic and reason. I also got genuinely peeved when I watched that orange vs pac vs omega match from way back when and him cheating was the reason omega won. Even though it's predetermined or whatever, still, I'm like: augh!!! No!!! I guess it's a testament to his heelish ability to work me through my various layers of detached irony. But it's not fun. Hmph!!! I'm still hung up on him returning after being kicked out!! Ugh!!! Boo!!!!!

(this is probably exactly how people feel about punk too, now that i think about it. lmao. I wonder how that works...)

Match: Holy shit! Intense!! O_O

Fun: No :(

sting, darby, and tetsuya naito vs jericho, sammy, and minoru suzuki

I actually tuned this whole match out because I was recovering from the previous one. Not even a single brain cell left to process this. That being said, I did end up rewatching it the next day.

I do not care for sammy or darby in general, and this match did not change that. I liked tetsuya naito being a goof at sammy in the beginning, if his character is this slow/casual/lazy disrespect I think that's really cool! Minoru Suzuki is just a total badass and I'm so glad he got a "murder grandpa" chant from the crowd lmaooo. Jericho was funny, jumping excitedly for suzuki to tag him in and his sting yell impression bit shortly after. Sting was cool, I hope he didn't get too hurt from the table spot because I thought it was strange he just hobbled away during the jericho-naito pin fall attempt instead of doing something about that.

Match: tis alright

Fun: a little, actually! yeah!

bryan danielson vs kazuchika okada

the big main event. The big serious main event. Because it's going to be so serious, I will point out that the part of intro vid where danielson is on a mountain and looking at the wrestling footage in the sky was really really funny and made me laugh.

The handful of brain cells I had recovered by ignoring the previous match were immediately burned up by the time danielson's entrance finished. I can't believe they got the song. Anyway, I was too burned out from all the wrestling to process this match (I remember a lot of dropkicks, and I didn't expect the finish) so I rewatched it again the next day.

There were indeed a bunch of dropkicks, and they were cool! This is a very wrestle heavy match where a lot of wrestling took place. I usually appreciate shenanigans and there weren't a whole lot of those in here, but that's fine, I still found things to enjoy (like danielson returning a dropkick to okada on the outside of the ring after he got 2x dropkicked?) This match was intense like ospreay vs omega, but unlike that one it was less stressful because it was more grapple-heavy and that's less risky looking to me. Also, I like both danielson and okada. Double also, this match was not as long as ospreay vs omega so it did not wear me out.

I've seen only a handful of recent okada matches and im a fan for when he goes sicko mode and looks like :| and starts overkill kicking people. He kinda had one of those moments in the match I think, which was cool! I also didn't realize how tall he was until he walked danielson back to the middle of the ring.

Danielson loves to sell. He will find any excuse to sell. I think i remember reading something about him thinking it's really funny to trick people and tell lies (and also dramatically sell fake injuries), which checks out because when his foot got stuck in that ramp that one time a whole back he toooootally seized the opportunity to pretend he was greviously injured. Anyway, that's all to say that he also pulled that in this match, which I think would probably come of as kinda weird and maybe off-putting if you were watching it in real time. But with the hindsight superpowers afforded to me by watching the match later I know his arm got injured at some point so I guess he did that seizure bit so he can sell his arm being incapacitated to the crowd? Thinking about it from that angle, I think its pretty cool that danielson and okada were adaptable enough to change the end section of their match to account for it. I will just continue to hope and assume every scary injury I see from danielson in the moment is just him overly selling. <:)

Match: they put the "professional" in "professional wrestling"

Fun: sure!

Anyway that's all my words about wrestling! I hope you also enjoyed the ppv, or at least had fun bits you liked from it. It was a lot of wrestling to watch! I wish we got Adam Cole vs Tom Lawlor, but hey, stuff happens. Apparently Cole was running a fever? I hope he gets well soon!

#talkzon #reviewzon #I got bored and decided to spend my Monday doing this.

1 note · View note

orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

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REEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘. Like???? LIKE????? I am 💳💥UNWORTHY *BOWS*

I FINALLY got to finish this! I didn't wanna write a review if I 1/2 read it.

Very understandable!! Thank you for reviewing in general!! I'm still absolutely blown away!!!

The world building was so damn cool! The way you told about all the creatures of that world and how humans interact with them. The conversations the things have in that bar..👀

THANK YOU!!!!!! I'm really proud of the world building!!!! Its all actually based on real world supernatural creatures, and their personalities and drinks are based off their real world origins locations.

The conversations in that bar indeed!

The way the ENTIRE bar changes when Yoongi walks in,

The man is important and all creatures of the night know that.

the fact that Sal gave zero shits about that, and he paid the price.. read the room SOB

THIS SCENE BROUGHT ME LIFEEEEE. I love that he's now nothing more than scuffs on the floor.

😂 I wonder how Tae was hired to work alongside the only human at the bar🤔

He loves being able to playfully mess with her using his powers. He finds her cute in a "oh cute little human" way, but has also grown really fond of her too.

The fact that she saw kindness and patience in this man, who is the most violent and terrifying creature on any plain of existence to kill something without mercy or hesitation. The KING of torment. That's some soulmate shit right there.

ISNT IT. And the way that he lets her, he cant help it. Mans is so gone for her and I sob every time I think about it.

I love the banter between her and Tae. I hope they'll be friends for a long time. Are her other friends all humans? Did they go to a human club for her birthday?

I do too. They're such shit disturbers for one another and yes! All of her other friends are humans. They went to a human bar for her birthday because she wouldn't dare risk her friends lives at a "Night" bar.

The pent up feelings, then seeing him ON her birthday.. how did he know where she and her friends were?

RIGHT. Him seeing her on HER birthday and then her seeing him on DEVILS NIGHT. LIKE??? helloooooo timing.

and there are some things Yoongi just *knows* (and he asked Tae)

How long was he watching her?

15 minutes prior to her friends noticing. So 45 minutes? He loved how much fun she was having with her friends and didn't want to disturb her. Only wanted her to come to him if she wanted to.

The fact that just went... It's My Birthday, I'm getting that man. He is mine now fuck it, was hilarious ! I dunno how she didn't pass out from all that he did to her😦 he walking around with 3 legs!

I LOVE that she just went with it. No regrets. She'd had enough and let herself have what she's wanted for so long. Like girl, good for you for going and getting what YOU want.

And bro literally same. Readers a trooooooper.

The way she snarks at him at the end, nobody wants to think about their parents after sex marathon or otherwise 😂

The way I laughed my ass off when she said that. I literally went "yep. thats the last line. his response. I will not be able to continue on or make a better ending than that." and kept it.

Honestly, this was amazing what a great Halloween treat. I would genuinely read so much more about them.

THATS SUCH A HUGE COMPLIMENT THANK YOU????!!! And I'll definitely have to consider maybe doing some drabbles for them in the future because you're not the first to say that!!

Thank you Orchid!!!

No, thank YOU Remmy <<<<33333333

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, is ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He existed only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

#FINALLY GOT TO IT SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG #Short term memory loss did it's thing BUT IT'S HERE NOW #reviews #TDWV reviews #REMMY!!#remmykinsff

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yoongsisbae · 3 years ago

Text

Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 2

WHOA I am amazed by all the love this story has received so far, chapter one has become my most liked post, huh?! I'm in shock, thank you! My thirst for muster Joon fueled this to be released earlier than anticipated, so enjoy! ;)

OT7 yandere!BTS x reader, Yoongi x reader & Taehyung x reader & Namjoon x reader focused this chapter

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, voyeur, masturbation A LOT of it, gaslighting & reader manipulation, shibari, intoxication, dubcon, choking, public nudity, sexual touching in public, dom!Namjoon & sub!reader

Word count: 5.3k

---

You press record and the red light on your webcam lights up. Your heartbeat races as you navigate the House of Cards website. You already have viewers and you’ve only just spent your time staring at the chat. You wish you had picked something sexier as you sit cross legged in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts. You wear a red eye mask to conceal your identity, part of an old superhero Halloween costume you pulled out from the depths of your closet. You felt like a dumbass. ‘Super Girl wouldn’t have to do this kind of shit.’

“Sorry, i-it’s my first time...m-maybe I could take suggestions?” You watch the chat move as you hold your breath. You wanted to sound sexy but you can’t stop stuttering out your words.

You’ve never been more anxious in your life, the ends of your fingers feel numb and you can hear your own pulse thumping in your ears. You’re openly inviting strangers to get off on your body, you’re about to expose yourself in ways you’ve never done before. This isn’t like sending a sexy photo to a boyfriend when you’re feeling needy, this is so much more reckless.

Just when you’re starting to regret doing this, just when you’re about to end the feed and hide in humiliation, a notification ding pulls you away from your thoughts.

Suga: take off your shirt

Your on-screen balance goes from zero to a hundred dollars. You gulp and your eyes go wide at the amount. A hundred dollars just to take your shirt off? That seems too good to be true.

‘Okay, this is what you signed up for, y/n. It's now or never!’ You mentally hype yourself up. You keep your mission in mind, make enough money to keep a roof over your head for this month.

Your shaky fingers find the hem of your shirt “F-for you-” you squint reading the username again, “For you, Suga.” You lift the shirt slowly off your body, exposing the curves of your breasts, revealing your red lace bra to your viewers.

The collar of your shirt gets stuck around your head. You feel like an idiot as you try to wrestle the shirt off your body without pulling off your mask.

---

Yoongi snorts at his screen, his lips curving up into a half smile. He sits behind two computer monitors. He watches as you stutter out apologies to your audience, entertained by your clumsiness.

He peers over his shoulder, to where his friends are playing a game of billiards. “Hey, we have a new one!”

“Oh yeah? It’s been awhile since someone joined.” Namjoon puts his pool stick down and walks over to Yoongi to get a closer look. He laughs, “What is she doing? Is this her first time?”

“It is,” Yoongi hums.

“Ah, well now I’m intrigued.” Namjoon pulls out his cell, quickly pulling up the website on his phone.

Yoongi licks his lips, “I think she’s cute.” He watches another hundred dollars add to your total as someone asks for you to remove your shorts. He notices the username and sends a glare to the man standing over his shoulder.

“What? Just trying to move the show along.” Namjoon gives Yoongi’s shoulder a shake. “You never did like sharing.”

“And you never knew how to properly take care of my toys.”

Namjoon laughs. He studies your figure and the way you move back and forth awkwardly on the bed. You’re trying to find the best pose for your request until you finally decide to lie on your back and lift up your hips, pulling your shorts down and off your legs so you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. He leans over Yoongi’s shoulder, eyes level with his monitor to get a better look at you. “She is very cute. I could have a lot of fun with her.”

Yoongi grunts. He watches you press the cups of your bra together to show your cleavage off for him. The chatroom viewer count jumps into 3 digits. You’re so eager to please your audience, he thinks, jumping at the chance to perform the simplest of requests. And he is eager to learn just how far he can push you.

Yoongi types a reply quickly and hits the donate button. He hears his friend let out a low whistle next to him.

---

A thousand dollars?! Someone just donated a thousand dollars. What the hell?

Suga: spread your legs for me. touch yourself.

Your breath hitches. You watch as another wave of viewers are added to the chat, another trickle of donations following. You feel high from their attention, and the money just keeps on rolling in! You've been so worried and stressed since lockdown happened and now you're almost guaranteed to accomplish your goal, finally something is going right, your heart jumps in excitement. It’s starting to feel...fun. You had discarded your embarrassment along with your clothes, thrown somewhere in a heap on the floor. You lean back on your palms and bring your knees together. You can feel the damp cloth of your underwear rub against your core. You’re ashamed to admit how turned on you are. The higher the viewer count goes the wetter you become. You slowly spread your legs to the camera, reveling in the game you're playing with your faceless admirers. Your eyes read over the chat, taking in all their praises of your body. Flattering compliments intermingled with salacious requests pass by the second, it’s overwhelming, and only serves to fuel your arousal.

---

Your sweet voice plays through Yoongi’s speakers, “Thank you Suga.”

“Oh fuck, she’s so wet.” Hoseok pulls up a chair next to Yoongi and Namjoon. They all stare at the screen, at the center of your light pink panties. There is a noticeable dark spot that propels the chatroom into a frenzy.

“Take a look at that view count, it’s one of our highest this month, right?” Namjoon asks Yoongi. He hums in acknowledgement. “They really have nothing better to do now that we’re all stuck in our homes,” Namjoon jeers.

The three men watch silently as your breathing escalates, taking note of how you shake and moan. Hoseok uses the camera on his phone to zoom in on your face scrunched up in pleasure and takes a snapshot.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his friend. “I’m just showing Jin! She’s his type.” Namjoon laughs. Hoseok cocks his head to the side in confusion while Yoongi scoffs.

Of course you're Jin's type, Yoongi thinks. You're so beautiful and Jin loves to treasure beauty. Jin loves to admire his treasures, taking pleasure in finding the cracks within perfection to break them wider. He's going to have to watch out for Jin.

Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s phones ding with a notification. “Did you have to do that?” Yoongi questions Namjoon, starting to feel annoyed. He pasted a link to your stream to the group chat.

“They are probably already watching. Look,” he points to your view count, soaring into the thousands. The man on his side gives him a dirty look.

---

You place your hands inside your bra and panties, still not comfortable enough to bare it all just yet. You cup your breasts and roll your hips into your palm getting off on the friction. Your soaked panties pull on your hips, stretch against your knuckles, revealing parts of you every once in a while to the camera. How many men had their dicks out right now, how many were falling apart with you? The thought made you clenched down on nothing, covering your hand in your essence. You pull your hand away from your core and put your palm in front of the camera, showing off your wet fingers to your faceless admirers.

---

Taehyung groans. You wiggle your fingers to him, traces of your arousal drip in between, he imagines himself licking each digit clean. He imagines his own long fingers stuffing you instead, pulling sweet moans from your lips, you dripping all over him. Fuck he wants to taste you, he bets you taste so sweet, just divine.

His hands fists his hard erection, his tongue between his teeth as he watches you on his laptop. Each time you cry out in pleasure, he thrusts into his clenched fist, imagining your tight cunt wrapped around him instead. Taehyung almost loses it when you let out a needy whine, imagining all the ways he could make you cry and whimper at his hands. He wishes he had you here so he could taste and smell your body, god if you were here he would make you cum over and over again until you cry and beg him to stop.

---

Someone sends you five hundred dollars, the second largest donation of the night.

V: You’re so beautiful

No request, no lewdness, nothing other than the simple phrase that you didn’t realize how much you ached to hear. Your face goes hot. You let your hand speed up. You try to imagine the words spoken, whispered in your ear, focus on them besides the dings of your laptop and wet sounds coming from your soaking core.

You imagine a man on top of you whispering how beautiful he finds you. You throw your head back lost in pleasure, letting your fantasies overtake you until the heat inside you bursts. You gasp and shudder, forgetting about the camera on you, riding out your high for as long as you can. The fantasy man leaves your thoughts as you come back down to earth, alone again in your room. Finally, you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling of your room. The chatroom dings and dings.

Now that you’ve reached your high, the flames of your arousal abruptly extinguishes, an icy current of mortification at what you’ve done hits you in waves. You sit up shakily, wiping the sweat off your brow. Too scared to look at your reflection, you look down at your keyboard instead, trying to steady your breathing.

“Thank you for coming to my first broadcast. I’m going to log off now.”

Instead of shutting off the stream you hold down the power button of your laptop to turn your entire computer off. You lay back down as your phone vibrates with a notification. The total sum of what you made on your first live stream. You can’t believe it, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. You pull the mask off your face and throw the offending material across the room. As you steady your breathing you push down the regret that creeps over you, thoughts that ring in your ears like a lecture from your mother, feeling shame and disgust at what you allowed yourself to become. Whatever, you did what you had to do.

---

It’s an hour before you have to clock out on your last shift of the week. Your manager pulls you aside to speak with you. There’s concern in his voice and a frown etched on his face, “He is here again.”

“Oh,” you grimace, why is he so early?! “He’s, um, here to pick me up.”

Your manager’s eyes go wide. “You’re going to go somewhere with that psycho?”

“I-I can’t say.”

“If it’s money again I can see about getting you some more hours.” He grabs a clipboard off the back wall, flipping through the schedule.

You wince. “No, it’s just something I have to do and then this should all be over and done with. It will be fine.” Will it be fine? You hope so.

He gives you a skeptical look. “Are you sure? You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

You don’t know, but you nod your head regardless, “Yes.”

“Okay,” He sighs, still looking worried, “I’ll see you Monday?”

You give him a reassuring smile. “See you Monday. Have a good weekend.”

---

An hour later you clock out and Yoongi makes his way next to you. You were grateful he didn’t make another scene, he had sat in the corner sipping on coffee, hardly paying attention to you. He didn’t have to, not when he had your store's camera system connected to his phone.

You look him over, Yoongi looks as posh as ever. He wears all black, and tight pants that show off his, well anyways, why does he have to look so good? You huff, staring anywhere else, motioning your arm, “After you.”

The man gives you a wicked smile and offers you his arm. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but reach for his elbow. You felt silly in your dirty work clothes holding onto him. Why did you even bother waking up early today to put on a face full of makeup when you just ended up sweating it off?

"Your manager doesn't seem happy to see me," he teases.

"I wonder why..." you send him a glare.

Of course this motherfucker has a Rolls Royce. You grumble next to him. Yoongi opens the passenger’s door for you and you slide inside. When was the last time someone has done that for you? Tinder culture has really screwed you in more ways than one. You watch as he circles to the other side, he looks so powerful and sexy.

Stop, what's gotten into you?! You push down the butterflies fluttering around in the pit of your stomach. When he starts the car, he leans over to you, invading your space and making you flinch.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes travel down your body, “Unless you want me to.” His face is too close to yours, you can feel his breath on your skin as he smirks down at you.

He reaches for the strap of your seat belt, his body now entirely pressed up against yours and he pulls on the strap and buckles it for you. Your face grows hot, it felt like he was teasing you, his presence leaving you as quickly as it came. You swallow down the lump in your throat, wishing you had water for your suddenly dry mouth.

He had smelled good. Manly. It’s been so damn long since you’ve been on a date, under the excuse of social distancing, but really you’ve just stopped trying to go out on boring typical dates with normal boring men so you can have boring vanilla sex. It was a hassle, you had gotten used to the instant gratification from your viewers. But now you had neither. That's why you were so wound up, not because you wanted this smug asshole, no way.

As he reversed, you realize you have to give him your address. You bite your lower lip, thinking what to do. Maybe you can get him to drop you off somewhere close by, but Yoongi is already setting up the GPS with another location.

“Umm, I thought we were going to stop by my house first.”

“Why?”

“So I can change?”

“Not necessary, you can change on the boat. I have clothes for you since I noticed you never cashed my check.” His piercing eyes flash with anger, the accusation making you shift uncomfortably. Cashing Yoongi's check made what was happening feel like a transaction, and you weren't willing to give him that power over you.

“I-I did not agree to get on a boat with you,” you frown, red flags popping up in your head at the thought of being alone in the middle of nowhere, out at sea, with a stranger who says he’ll hurt you if you ask him to.

“You agreed to go to a party with me. That’s how we get to the party, sweetheart.”

Dammit.

---

When Yoongi said boat you didn’t realize he meant yacht. It’s huge. He leads you into the main cabin, there are clothes already laid out for you on the bed.

He shows you how to work the shower before leaving you alone. You know you were washing off the sweat and grime of the day to make yourself presentable for this party of his, but why did you feel like you were cleaning yourself up for Yoongi specifically. It made you feel uneasy. You tried to silence the alarm bells ringing in your head and focus on getting ready. It's just one night out and then you can say goodbye to Yoongi forever.

The dress was black and tight. It hugged your curves and showed off your cleavage. You can admit it was a hot dress and you felt hot in it. It’s exactly the style you like, as if Yoongi had pulled it right out from one of your favorite Pinterest boards. You sigh as you look at yourself in the mirror, the dress came with a set of lingerie that you almost didn’t put on, embarrassed by wearing underwear picked out by a man you knew nothing about. This wasn't like the times you let your viewers choose your outfits for broadcast, this was different...right?

You decide to go all out with makeup, realizing there is no doubt going to be many beautiful people at this party that look as attractive and expensive as Yoongi, so you might as well try to blend in. You put on the finishing touches, a dark red lip, when there’s a knock on the door.

Yoongi walks in, he’s changed too. He's wearing a black button down and black pants, it matches your outfit. Almost all of his fingers are adorned with silver rings. His hair styled in an unkept bedhead way that makes him look younger. You try not to stare or think about how ridiculously handsome he looks.

You look breathtaking, Yoongi thinks, ‘Only one thing missing.’ He pulls out a black choker with a gold pendant from his pocket. “For you, I think it completes the look.” He gives you a genuine smile.

“I-I...Thank you.” you don’t know what else to say. His fingertips graze your collarbones, lighting a trail of fire across your chest. Yoongi clasps the choker around your neck, the pull against your sensitive skin gives you goosebumps. His pointer finger finds its way under your jaw to lift your chin up. “Ready for some fun?” You leave with Yoongi before you have time to inspect his present, notice that on the gold heart pendant there are initials delicately scrawled in the middle. ‘MYG’

---

You enter the party mesmerized. An island. A mansion. A secret paradise. A place where the party never needed to end.

The hall is decorated from top to bottom in gold and crystal, intricate glass centerpieces and art at every corner, but what caught your eye and made your heart drop into the pit of your stomach was an entirely different kind of centerpiece. Around the main room, suspended from the ceiling, gold ropes dropped in a dozen different areas. The most beautiful women you’ve ever seen hung under spotlights, the rope tied in intricate patterns around their naked bodies, each placed in a different position. Saliva pooled inside your mouth as you watched in awe.

Party goers gravitated to them, watching the women as they ate finger food and drank. Yoongi’s breath tickled the back of your neck as he whispered in your ear. “You look like you want to join them,” His dark eyes narrowed on you.

“I’m just admiring the view,” you try to act unaffected by his words, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m hungry,” you whine, changing the subject, you let Yoongi pull you through the crowd.

---

Jungkook grips his wine glass so tight the stem breaks in half, the glass pieces cutting the palm of his hand. He is so full of rage he barely feels the sting, letting the blood drip on his expensive suit. That conniving little man Yoongi has his hands all over your body. How did he have you? Had this been his plan all along? Did Yoongi convince you to leave the site so he could have you all to himself? And you fell into his trap! Jungkook knows it’s not your fault for being manipulated, he knows how devious his business partner can be, but he wants to punish you just the same. He has to tell someone. Taehyung will know what to do! He searches for his friend, before he goes straight to Yoongi and kills him instead.

---

“Min, please introduce us to your date!” The crowd parts as two men advance towards Yoongi. You were just getting used to Yoongi’s cold reserved demeanor when his friends’ beaming playful attitude catch you off guard. The pair is full of energy, they commanded attention, and you could tell by their looks they most certainly were used to being in the center of it.

“You know who she is,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, his hand around your waist pulling you closer to him. What did he mean? Were they-

“But we haven’t formally met! I’m Hoseok, you can call me Hobi.” He winks at you and gives you a bright smile. “This is Jimin!”

‘Jimin.’ That name is familiar to you. No way, this beautiful man is not your Jimin. Not one of your top donators Jimin. No way in hell-

“I’m so happy to have finally met you in person, Dahlia.” Jimin holds your hand in his and brings your fingers to his lips, giving you a small wink. Oh my god he’s attractive. This is the same man who paid you for late night private chats, crying about how lonely he was, he is that Jimin. You’re so astonished you don’t even register the way Yoongi’s fingers dig into your hip in jealousy.

Hoseok and Jimin are fun. The three of you drink another round of sparkling champagne as the duo takes turns telling you wild stories, making you dissolve into a fit of giggles. Yoongi sips on his whisky while he watches the three of you roar with laughter. He doesn’t mind, he uses their charm to his advantage. As expected around the extroverted pair you start feeling more comfortable, you let your guard down around Yoongi, so Yoongi doesn’t mind. You're his date after all, you’re his.

“Looks like everyone made it!” Jimin waves at a trio of men headed towards your group.

“Almost everyone,” Yoongi corrects. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and you lean into him, your body swaying from the alcohol in your system. Yoongi delights in the way the men looked at you in his arms, the visible shock and anger on their faces. “Y/n, this is Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.”

You nod in their direction, barely regarding them, instead giggling at Jimin who is making a funny face at you trying to steal your attention.

“Namjoon says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, something came up.” Taehyung addresses Yoongi.

Yoongi frowns at the information, it’s not like Joon to change plans so suddenly.

“I need to use the restroom, excuse me.”

“I’ll show you where it is,” Yoongi begins to take you, but Taehyung’s hand grips Yoongi’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Let the lady go, it’s been so long since we’ve all seen you, Yoongi. I missed my friend. You can make your way, right baby?”

Six heads turn to look at you and you feel hot under their intense stares. “Um, yea-yes, I’ll be right back.” You leave before Yoongi can protest.

---

This place is huge. You can’t remember how you found the bathroom or how to get back to Yoongi, and the room felt like it was spinning. The party had become louder, more obnoxious as drugs and alcohol loosened everyone’s inhibitions.

You shouldn’t have drank so much, you didn’t realize how much alcohol Jimin and Hobi had been feeding you until it was too late, and now you could barely make out people’s faces. What are you going to do? Yoongi had your cell in his pocket, why did you give it to him? Jimin had grabbed it out of your hand to put his contact information in, and handed it back to Yoongi instead. You didn't even protest, you were too busy being mesmerized by Hoseok as he swayed his hips to the music playing, rolling his body to the beat.

You lean against an empty space of wall, between two couples obnoxiously making out. You’re all alone in a strange house with no way to call for help, the gravity of your situation hits you all at once and your head begins to throb.

Maybe if you can make it to the second floor you can spot Yoongi and the others in the crowd. You stumble your way to the stairs, hoping your plan works.

You see Yoongi. The bastard is still drinking his whisky while his friend’s banter amongst themselves. You exhale, finally calming down. The fresh air away from everyone helps to take away your dizziness. You watch the six men, they are all so good looking. They have to be the most attractive men at the party. You didn’t notice how intimidating the group looks, finding it funny how party goers instinctively keep their distance from them.

The three new men are tall and big, they could be models, or maybe athletes, you should have paid attention when Yoongi was introducing you to them. What were their names, Junhyung? Taejung? If Yoongi was a House member, and Jimin was a House member, could they all be...no.

You’re about to turn to leave when hands cover your mouth and grab at your waist. Your scream is completely muffled out behind the stranger’s large hand.

He holds you in a suffocating embrace, covering both your mouth and nose, you realize you really cannot breathe. You try to pry his hand off your face but it’s impossible, he’s too strong and too big, easily overpowering you. The air in your lungs is trapped inside of you as you try to scream. Is this how you die?

“Hey baby.”

‘RM.’ The last time you met him, you had your vision taken, so you could never forget the unmistakable deep rumble of his voice.

Your mind is reeling. You stop fighting against his hold and he finally removes his hand, placing it around your neck instead. You gasp and cough out, inhaling air quickly, afraid your breath will be taken away again.

You guess it made sense, first Jimin now RM, were all the party goers members too? The thought terrified you. You had no idea what your viewers looked like, yet they all knew what you looked like naked. Just how many knew who you were? It made you queasy, you shudder against RM. RM, a top donator, plastered against your back, it felt like a fever dream.

You remember all the times you flirted with him behind the protection of your computer screen, now there were no digital barriers to stop his advances. No house rules to lessen his stifling touches.

“I missed you, baby. I’m a little upset you stayed away for so long, but seeing you here dressed up so pretty, like a present I get to unwrap, I can forgive you.” The hand that held your waist down against him traveled up your stomach, between your breasts, until it settled around your neck as well. “I’m so so glad you came back to us.” His deep velvet voice rumbled in your ear, making your legs tremble.

His strong fingers begin to massage your neck. It feels so good, you bite back a moan. Namjoon rubs deep circles into your shoulder blades. You can’t help but melt into his relaxing massage, your nerves had been wound so tightly before, his expert fingers finding each knotted muscle in your back. You try to sneak a glance behind you, but every time you try, Namjoon’s hands find your jaw, keeping your attention forward.

“How is Yoongi treating you?” RM knows Yoongi? You felt so out of the loop, you tried to make sense of it all but you could only concentrate on the way his fingers pressed against your skin.

“He’s being a perfect gentleman.”

“A 'gentleman,'” Namjoon laughs, “Are we talking about the same man?” You roll your head as his fingers work the tense muscles of your neck. His thumb runs underneath your choker, ever so slightly tightening the fabric around your skin. “He was planning to keep you all to himself,” Namjoon tuts.

Anger erupts inside of him as he notices the piece of jewelry, and he pulls you into another crushing embrace, his hands underneath the curves of your breasts. “Now what would he do if he saw you in my arms, hmm?” He makes you walk back to the balcony, hands groping your chest and body pressing you forward into the banister. Truthfully, you’re scared of what Yoongi would do if he saw you, you had no idea what he was capable of, but the pleasure RM was giving you was hard to fight against.

“RM, please...” you don’t know what you’re begging him for, to let you go, to touch you more.

“Look at him.” His voice deepens, his authoritative tone makes you whimper in his arms.

His arms travel to your waist, his fingers pulling at the hem of your dress, lifting it tortuously slow. His fingertips ghost over your lace panties. “Look at how wet you are, dirty girl.” He pulls them down your thighs. If anyone were to look up, they’d see you completely bare. The thought makes you pulse.

Taehyung and Jungkook had come to Namjoon to tell him what Yoongi had done. Namjoon almost felt bad, Yoongi was like a brother to him, so Namjoon knew how much he cared about you. But why would he parade you around in front of the others, like a sweet treat on a platter? Yoongi surely knew them all well enough to know they'd want to take a bite.

“Now keep your eyes on Yoongi, what is he doing right now?”

You start to speak and Namjoon pushes two fingers inside you, all the way in to his knuckles. You let out a gasp, and he pinches the sensitive skin of breast through your dress. “Answer daddy, baby girl.”

You fight back tears, your mouth goes dry as you try to hold yourself together. “H-he’s talking to Hobi.” Namjoon inserts another finger into you at the nickname you use for his friend, the stretch is bordering on painful, making you cry out. You try to stifle your whimpers, it just turns Namjoon on even more. He grinds his erection into your ass. His smell, his dirty words, his roughness, you've forgotten how much you craved it.

“Hobi, is it? When did you and him become so friendly? Baby, you’re making me jealous. Is that what you want?” With three fingers inside you, he sets a punishing pace. It’s been awhile since you’ve felt so full. Perhaps the last time you truly felt like this was by RM himself. You pulse around his fingers at the memory. Your legs shake as his thumb finds your clit, pressing into your sensitive hood. “P-please…”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Daddy.”

He groans in your ear. “Hmm no.” He pulls his fingers out of you, you hold onto the banister as your orgasm escapes you. Your body shakes with need.

“You’ll come find me later tonight, won’t you, baby girl?” His warmth leaves your body, when you turn around no one is there.

---

Oh my so many questions, not many answers. Will you see your manager on Monday? Lol thank you again for enjoying my story, let me know what you think! <3

715 notes · View notes

raibebe · 4 years ago

Text

Love shot

Genre: Tooth rotting fluff Words: 8.590 Prompt: Hockey Player Jeno feat. best friend Jaemin, love letters? Warnings: none..?

A/N: This was written for @woahhwa for the @kafenetwork kafeholidays event! Hi Ru! I had so much fun talking to you when tumblr wasn’t eating my asks! I hope you liked this and it incorporates some of the things you said you liked. Also. Warning: I know absolutely nothing about hockey so please bear with me :] As always thank you to @burtonized for always listening to my rambles and telling me that my writing doesn’t suck. Also literally no one asked for me to put Johnny into this but I am a simple woman and miss him and his gorgeous hair. I am sorry for this horrible title...

The red numbers on the clock over the rink slowly counted down, the last minute of the game beginning. You had your hands tightly clutched together, sitting on the edge of the seat as you watched your home team in the orange and blue tricots trying to defend the last push of the opposing team. Mark Lee - on the defense - body checked the opposing wing player, who had been pushing forward, hardly into the banister, causing him to lose the puck. Quick on his feet like always, Ten snatched it from him and took a sharp turn to avoid the second wing player, using his smaller size to his advantage so he could push forward into the last third before the huge defender of the opposing team tackled him harshly. But like the genius player he was, Donghyuck had anticipated it, screaming Ten’s name at the top of his lungs so the elder had the time to pass the puck on to his wingplayer. Using his momentum from following Ten, Donghyuk pulled both of the opposing defenders towards him, leaving the star player of the team - Lee Jeno - free right in front of the goalie. A huge mistake. With a mischievous grin on his lips, Donghyuck waited until the very last second to pass the puck straight to Jeno who didn’t hesitate even for a second to take his shot: Hitting the puck with all his strength, he sent the rubber flying right past the goalie’s body, slamming into the net of the goal.

The crowd around you erupted in loud screams and cheers, everyone jumping up from their seats and celebrating the last minute goal as the red timer on the scoreboard ticked down to zero, the loud noise of a horn mixing with the cheers of the students. In the middle of all of this you were hugging your best friend, screaming loudly before turning back to look into the rink where the other boys had buried Lee Jeno beneath them, hockey sticks scattered around them. The other team had already angrily left the rink, collecting their stuff to make their way to the locker rooms when the boys finally let off and let their MVP breathe. Grinning broadly they took their helmets off one by one, shaking out their matted hair and just like after every game, the sight of Jeno’s midnight blue messy hair took your breath away. Once you could muster up the courage to talk to him, you wanted to ask if he had dyed it to match the color of their blue and orange jerseys. But even though you went to every single one of their home games and sometimes even went down to the rink to congratulate them, you had yet to speak more than three words with their handsome center forward player with the 23 on his back.

“Let’s go down to congratulate them, this was insane,” Jaemin said before already pulling you down the stairs against the tide of people that were already leaving. A couple of the player’s friends had already gathered at the rink, cheering them on and clapping them on their padded shoulders. You could make out the University’s heartthrob Johnny Suh - a volleyball player himself - fondly petting his best friend’s head which made Ten smile brighter than the harsh lights that illuminated the ice. A group of other boys from your year that you knew from a couple of your courses had rounded Donghyuck and Mark and looked like they were currently mocking the elder for his misplay that had led to the early goal of the opposing team, leaving their goalkeeper Yangyang almost no time to react. With a loud thud Jeno joined the circle, clinging to Mark’s back who cried out in pain from how hard the impact had been. The newest addition to the team, a tall freshman with the number 27 on his back, awkwardly shuffled on the ice before the team captain - Sicheng - pulled him over to where they were celebrating.

“Yooooo, boys this was sick!” Jaemin called out when he jumped down the last couple of steps before joining his friends who had stopped mocking Mark for a little while. But that wouldn’t be for long and you knew it. You had been their fan for quite some time now and knew that Donghyuck would not let Mark live and would bother him about it for a long time. “Watch your back, stupid,” you mumbled after your best friend who had been part of the team last year but had to quit playing for an undefined amount of time due to some issues with his back. He was the one who had originally gotten you into this sport which had led to your crush on Lee Jeno. So basically Na Jaemin was the reason you had the worst everlasting crush on a boy you barely knew and were way too shy to talk to even if he shared a ridiculous number of classes with you this year. But to Lee Jeno you must just be Jaemin’s weird friend he still knew from his childhood.

Slowly you approached the circle of boys, trying to hide as much of your face as possible in the bright orange scarf you had wrapped around your neck to shield yourself from the cold of the stadium. Jaemin was already retelling the highlights of the game in rapid-fire double time rapping speed, gesturing broadly and making the players laugh. “If you were to commentate the games they would probably be twice as fun to watch,” you spoke your mind when your best friend had to take a deep breath, making all of them stare at you which promptly lead to blood to rush to your face. “Yoooo, that would be such a good idea,” Mark broke the silence, his eyes wide, “Since you know all the rules and stuff.” “Also I wouldn’t be biased at all,” Jaemin just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he can’t just trash talk the other team during the whole game,” Sicheng threw in. “But it would be fun,” Yangyang mused. He had finally managed to get all of his extra protective gear off, his dark hair hanging into his eyes. “You should try it, Jaem,” Jeno also agreed. “I’d rather join you on the ice, you know,” your best friend mumbled, shooting the rink a longing gaze. “You’ll be back with us in no time once your back is healed,” Sicheng smiled, patting him on the shoulder with his still gloved hand, “Just give me a call and I’ll unlock the rink for you to make a couple of rounds.” “What am I, a short track athlete?” Jaemin grumbled but nodded his head anyways. He had been an amazing sprinter until he had exchanged the goggles and tight suits for heavy padding and a stick some time in high school.

“What’s this gloomy atmosphere? We won guys!” Ten shouted over from where he had been talking to Johnny and some other upperclassman, “Let’s get out of these uniforms and have some food to celebrate, Sicheng is paying.” “I am what?” The team captain protested but his complaints were lost in the cheers of the younger members of the team who quickly scrambled to get to the lockers to shower and change, their stomachs always bottomless holes after an intense game. “Let’s go home then,” Jaemin suggested, raking a hand through his caramel hair. You could tell he was still sad about not being able to be with his boys but he made an effort to hide his inner struggle. “Jaem!” A voice called you back when you turned to climb up the stairs and Lee Jeno skidded effortlessly over the ice to roughly collide with the side of the rink again. “You know you can join us, right?” A smile spread over your friend’s lips but he shook his head. “I can’t leave this one all to herself.” “The more the merrier,” Jeno just answered, looking you straight in the eye which lead to your heart missing a beat or two. He was covered in sweat and his hair was matted to his head, he should not have looked this attractive to you with his stupid half-moon eye smile and mole beneath his right eye. “I- I don’t want to mess up your all-boys time,” you tried to politely decline, scolding yourself for stuttering like this. You did not need to make an even bigger fool out of yourself. “It’s fine, really. Mark’s girlfriend is probably going to join us as well,” Jeno reassured you, “I’ll see you two outside!” He quickly added before crossing the rink again to disappear into the lockers, not leaving you two any more chance to decline.

“We’re not going to say no to a free meal, are we?” Jaemin grinned. “Wipe that grin off your face Nana,” you grumbled, scolding yourself for going for comfortable and warm clothes instead of pretty ones. What would Jeno think of you in your oversized blue hoodie and orange scarf? “Stop stressing, I can hear you thinking,” your friend whined, pulling you out of the by now empty stadium. “I look like a potato.” “No you don’t. You look fine. Jeno is not into the whole dolled up thing anyways.” Slapping his arm hard, you looked around if any of the players had already changed and overheard his comment. “You better keep your mouth shut, Na Jaemin or may god have mercy over you,” you hissed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he innocently blinked his eyes at you. “Na Jaemin, I swear to god. If you make me look like a fool in front of my crush that I should have never admitted to you, I WILL make you regret it.” “You don’t need me to make a fool out of yourself,” your best friend laughed, just barely dodging the punches you threw at him.

“Please be nice,” you whispered when the boys came out from the locker after a couple of minutes, their hair still damp from the shower they must have taken, their bags slung over their shoulders. Pictures of what a certain forward player must look like beneath his heavy padding and jersey flooded your mind for a second and you had to fight the heat that threatened to creep up on your cheeks. Mark’s girlfriend who had arrived a couple of minutes earlier and who you two had already told about the game, raced to fling herself into her boyfriend’s arms, giggling loudly when he almost toppled over from being thrown off balance. Somehow that image tugged at your heart and you wished that one day when you were finally not too shy to talk to Jeno, this could be the two of you.

Dinner was filled with a lot of loud laughter and just mildly annoyed waiters at the restaurant that had the best hot pot in town or so Sicheng claimed. But you really couldn’t even blame the poor waitress that had to deal with the hyped up hockey players. You mostly kept quiet, listening to their bickering and their stories. Donghyuck only retold how Mark had messed up in today’s game about three more times until he earned himself a rather hard slap to the back of his head from both Mark and Jeno. During the whole time you tried to steal secret glances at the forward player, admiring how fluffy his hair got after it had dried and how his glasses would fog up from the heat of the food until he took them off with an adorable but also really annoyed huff, stuffing them into the pocket of his neon green hoodie that should have looked ridiculous but he could pull it off. At this point you thought that he would look good in a plastic bag. God you really had it bad for him.

“Alright children, it’s bed time,” Ten exclaimed after everyone’s bellies were full, clapping his hands, “We should leave quickly so Sicheng can pay for the meal.” The team captain just sighed and leaned back in his seat while the others quickly shuffled around to sort out their bags and their jackets to hurry out of the restaurant, muttering words of thanks to Sicheng. You felt bad for him and lingered behind for a little before pressing a note into his hands that he declined with a little smile. “It’s fine,” he shook his head, handing the money back, “One mouth more or less doesn’t matter.” “Thank you for the meal, Sicheng,” you smiled. “Thank you for your support, you’re at every of our games, aren’t you?” Flustered you followed him to the register where a woman took his card to pay for the meal. “I try to make it. Jaemin doesn’t like going alone when he’s not allowed to play and I really enjoy watching you guys play. Your freshman really did so well.” “Sungchan is really talented,” Sicheng nodded, “He is such a great assent to the team and he compliments Jeno well. He’ll give Jaemin a run for his money when he comes back.” Smiling, you nodded. “I hope he’ll recover fast, he really misses you guys.” Taking his card back, Sicheng grimaced at the receipt. “We all miss him.”

Stepping outside in the cold, you were glad you had brought your thick jacket, your breath came out in little white clouds and Jaemin’s nose was already red. “I thought you’d never come back out, I am freezing over here,” he complained. Rolling your eyes at your roommate, you quickly said goodbye to Sicheng who once again told Jaemin to give him a call if he wanted to use the rink to skate for a while. On the way over to your apartment a little off of campus, you both kept quiet, each lost in your own thoughts. Even through your thick layers of clothing, the cold began seeping into your bones and you buried your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. But instead of the soft material of the inside of the pockets, your right hand came into contact with a neatly folded piece of paper. Confused you pulled it from your jacket and unfolded it. You didn’t remember stuffing that in there. In neat handwriting, a single sentence was written:

You look so pretty in blue.

What? You were so perplexed, you halted in your steps, staring at the piece of paper as if it would tell you what in the world was going on or how it had ended up in your pocket. Had one of the boys snuck the note into you jacket when they all had left before you and Sicheng? But why would any of them do that? What if... What if it had been Jeno? No, that couldn’t be. He was way out of your league and most definitely confident enough to tell you in person if he liked the honestly very much not special or pretty blue hoodie. “Hello? Earth to best friend?” Jaemin’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. He was standing a couple of steps in front of you, a questioning look on his features. “Did you just remember you left the stove on or something?” “N... No,” you muttered, shaking your head before shoving the note back into your pocket, catching up to Jaemin.

What you didn’t know was that would not be the last weird note you would find. The next one didn’t take long. You found it stuffed in your bag between your books on your second class of the day. Trying to not catch your friend’s attention so you wouldn’t have to explain the note, you carefully and secretly unfolded it to read the neatly written sentence.

You look great today, have a great start into the new week! Fighting!

Not unlike last time, you wondered who could have dropped the note into your bag. And when? Looking around the class you were currently in, your eyes caught on Lee Jeno’s midnight blue hair just a couple of seats in front of you. Had he been in your previous class as well? You couldn’t remember. But even if he had been, it was just wishful thinking that he had been the one to write the note. It was most likely a cruel joke someone was playing on you. Sighing you crumbled the piece of paper and focused back to what your professor was saying, trying to concentrate on taking notes instead of daydreaming while staring holes into Lee Jeno’s head like you had done way too often in this class. You weren’t very successful and when Jeno answered a question the professor had thrown at the class flawlessly, earning himself a couple of back pats from his friends that were seated around him, you couldn’t help but sigh. God, why did he have to be both smart and incredibly handsome? And on top of that a very talented hockey player.

A slap from your friend to your shoulder brought you back from your daydream to find the professor staring at you intensely. Shit. What had he asked? “Alright miss, I’d like a word with you after class. Now who can answer my question instead?” He spoke and you just wanted to ground to swallow you whole.

For the rest of the class you were just imagining all the worst case scenarios in your head of what the strict professor would scold you about. Would he make you do extra work for the class? Give you a bad grade all together? Or just humiliate you further? “Alright class, that will be it for today, you’re dismissed. Don’t forget to do the reading for next week and hand in your assignments on time,” the professor dismissed the class, immediately finding your eyes to nod his head sharply to indicate he hadn’t forget about you zoning out.

Discouraged after the scolding you had gotten from your professor about dozing off in his classes, you climbed the stairs to your seat to pack your stuff to go hide in your room until everyone would have forgotten how embarrassing the whole situation had been, especially Lee Jeno and his friends. But yet again another note was placed right on top of your notebook, seemingly written in a haste and carelessly ripped out of its original page.

Don’t take it to heart, it could have happened to anyone. Cheer up!

Okay maybe the someone who was writing you these notes actually wasn’t playing jokes on you and actually cared about you. You’d be lying if the few words hadn’t made you feel any better.

Over the next few weeks you found more and more notes. Some longer than others, some just a few hastily written words. Some were just a quick cheer up to help you get through a long day of class, some compliments about your outfit or your hair and some even little stories about the day of your admirer. Somehow you felt like you got to know him a little through his little messages. You even dared to say you looked forward to finding more and more notes.

One time your secret admirer even left you a coffee on your table at the library when you had gotten up from your seat to get more books to look up some information for the essay you were trying to finish. When you got back to your seat, you looked around quickly to see if the admirer was still around. But you only saw more students perched over books or their laptops, typing away. Just when you were about to get back to your own project, a white hoodie caught your eye between the dull lighting and brown colors of the library. Below a mop of blue hair, Lee Jeno shortly smiled at you from behind his glasses, toasting towards you with his own cup of coffee and you couldn’t help but notice that it was from the same shop the steaming cup in front of you was from. Picking it up, you toasted back and took a small sip to not completely burn your tongue before examining the cup which just said your name with a little heart on it. It could have been just a coincidence that Jeno chose to get coffee from the same place your admirer had. The shop was just a few meters from the library after all but the way Jeno had smiled at you, not his usual bright smile but something maybe a little more shy, made you believe it could actually have been him and you really hoped that he actually was.

But today you hadn’t found a single note from your admirer and for some reason that was really bothering you. He had managed to sneak you at least a little note every day for a while now. And you still hadn’t figured out how he did it. Or when. You didn’t leave your bag or jackets unattended for long periods of time and it seriously baffled by how sneaky he must be.

“Stop staring holes into the air and get back to work,” your coworker Yuta scolded you, clapping a hand on your back on his way past you. “I’m sorry, I was lost in my head,” you apologized but he just shrugged his shoulders as he collected the mugs a group of students had left behind. “Exams?” He asked as he came back, putting the mugs into the sink. “Something like that,” you lied. You really didn’t know the upperclassman well enough to vent to him about how someone you didn’t even knew who they were send you secret messages and somehow they hadn’t done it today yet. Before Yuta could ask any further questions, the bell on the door jingled happily, announcing the arrival of a new set of customers. “I’ll go, bring those to the back,” your coworker instructed you. Sighing, you bunched up your sleeves to stack up all the dishes that had been piling up in the front during the time Yuta and you had been too busy with orders to put them in the big dishwasher in the kitchen.

With a couple of freshly washed cups and plates you emerged back into the main room to see Yuta flirting with the group of girls that had just come in to probably order some way too overpriced season special with more sugar than actual coffee in it. Of course only after they had been completely charmed by the objectively speaking very pretty foreigner with a silver tongue. Rolling your eyes at the group, you instead made your way to where the customers were sitting to check if anyone new had come in while you were in the back. After most classes were over for the day, the cozy café usually filled up with students pretty fast; either to relax for a little before going to the library or to discuss group projects.

Today was no different and you easily spotted a group of boys from one of your courses squished together in one of the booths, your best friend smiling brightly at you when he saw you approach. “My favorite waitress is working,” he spoke, awkwardly hugging your waist from his sitting position. “You just want my employee discount,” you fondly rolled your eyes at a now pouting Jaemin, “So what can I get you.” You quickly collected all the boy’s orders including Jaemin’s horrendous deathpresso. “Oh, add another iced Americano, someone is still missing,” Donghyuck called after you when you had confirmed their orders, a knowing smirk on his lips. Quickly scribbling another one on your little notepad, you didn’t look where you were going and suddenly collided with a very solid chest and you were pretty sure you would have fallen if it was not for the customer’s quick reflexes. So instead of on the floor, you found yourself pressed against his chest, his perfume clouding your senses. “Careful where you’re going,” he said and you could already tell that your eyes would meet ones with the color of molten amber, hidden behind a cute pair of round glasses, before you even looked up to see Lee Jeno’s smile. “You... You too,” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up, quickly scrambling back a step. “Are you alright?” He asked, looking you up and down once. “Yeah, I was just taking your orders, I’ll be right back,” you tried to smile while trying to tell your heart to stop beating like you had just ran a marathon. “I’ll help you carry, we’re quite a few people.” “No, it’s fine really,” you quickly declined, “This is my job after all. “I feel bad for running into you though, let me help,” Jeno insisted, a slight pout on his lips that you really could not resist. When you ended up nodding, his whole face lit up with his famous eye smile and your insides might have just melted a little. While he was quickly putting his bag down and greeting his friends, you busied yourself with the orders. Yuta was still no help whatsoever, telling one of the girls an obnoxious story of how he had ended up at a university in Korea. You barely held back your laugh when the girls gasped, their eyes glued to Yuta. The story might have been impressive to you if you hadn’t heard it about 30 times already, always a little different but always pretty far from the actual truth.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Jeno ripped your attention from your coworker when he leaned against the counter to watch you work the big coffee machine. “I was working in a different shop a little off campus before,” you smiled, focusing on pouring the milk into one of the cups of coffee to form a pretty picture. “You’re really good at making them look pretty,” Jeno complimented you, his cheeks tinted a rosy color. “It’s just practice,” you mumbled, hiding your own shyness behind the counter to quickly grab the cake slices the boys had ordered. An awkward silence hung over the two of you while you worked on finishing the other drink orders (it always took a ridiculous amount of time to make Jaemin’s) and your brain ran on overdrive trying to come up with a topic to talk to Jeno to fill up the silence while willing your hands to not shake and make a fool out of yourself in front of him.

“Do... Do you work between classes?” You chose to ask in the end, scolding yourself immediately for asking what must be the most lame, basic question ever. “I hardly have time between classes and practice,” Jeno explained nonetheless, scrunching his nose adorably to push up his glasses,” I’m here on a scholarship so I have to show results in hockey or I’ll be out.” “Ooh, I didn’t know that. But you’re really good so it shouldn’t be a surprise,” you spoke your mind before you could think about the words but as soon as it registered, your face immediately was heating up. Jeno just laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “I’m not bad I guess. It’s just a lot of practice, it’s nothing special,” he mirrored the words you had said earlier, an easy smile on his lips. “Even I can see you have an unfair amount of talent for hockey, Jeno.” At that he barked out a short laugh. “You should have seen me when I stood on the ice for the first time, I couldn’t even skate in a straight line without falling on my ass, no idea what the scouts saw in me when they talked to my mum to recruit me.” “I bet you’re just being modest,” you argued. “I am not I swear,” he laughed, “I was really bad but I trained a lot so I could make the team. I’m not like Donghyuck who can just skip half of practice because he’s hungover. I have to work for it.” “That makes it even more admirable,” you mumbled, not able to look him in the eye when you spoke the words even though you meant them with all your heart. “Th- Thank you,” Jeno stuttered and when you looked up at his face again, you could see that his ears were bright red. “I mean it,” you smiled and when he finally met your eyes you couldn’t help but get lost in his for a while.

“And you tell me to stop flirting with customers,” Yuta broke whatever moment you just had with Jeno and shoved you from the spot on the coffee machine. “I wasn’t,” you tried to argue but your colleague just clocked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I... I wouldn’t mind if you were,” Jeno mumbled so quietly you had almost missed it, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and a smile to creep onto your lips again. “We should bring the drinks over,” you smiled, grabbing the tray that held the drinks so Jeno could take the one with the cakes. “Ye... Yeah, orders, drinks, sure,” he stuttered, grabbing the second tray and following you through the café back over to where his friends were seated. “I thought you would never come back,” Jaemin already whined, grabbing his deathpresso off of your tray. “It takes a while to make eight freaking extra shots of espresso,” you scolded your best friend while giving out the rest of the orders to the other boys who all agreed, joining in on telling Jaemin how unhealthy his coffee drinking habits were. “Let me know if you need anything else,” you smiled politely when everyone had gotten their respective drinks, leaving the boys to banter playfully.

Over the course of your shift, the boys stayed to study and ordered another round of hot drinks before they left just shy of the ending of your shift. Jeno threw you another shy smile and a little sweater pawed wave when they left the shop that almost send you into cardiac arrest. “I’ll clean that table and then head out,” you announced to Yuta who was glued to his phone, checking his twitter feed. Among the chaos of used napkins and dishes, you found a neatly folded piece of paper with your name neatly written on it, a little heart drawn in the corner that set you own one racing again. You quickly put it in your pocket and cleared the rest of the table, all but throwing the dishes into the dishwasher at the back so you could get out of your apron and take a look at the note your secret admirer had left. While you were changing into your warm jacket, you couldn’t help but to think and to hope that Jeno had left it for you. After all he had been at both the gatherings that had led to you finding these notes and he also shared lot of classes with you where he could technically have slipped you a note or two. And on top of that he had also been at the library when the coffee incident happened.

Once you stepped out of the café and into the cool air of the early evening, you sat down on one of the benches surrounding the building to read the little note in peace.

You look so cute when you’re concentrating on making pretty latte art, did you know that? I loved the little talk we had but I am too shy to talk to you. Can you tell by these notes? My friends all make fun of me for writing cheesy notes instead of manning up to actually talk to you. I don’t even know if you would want to meet me. But if you want to, then meet me at the ice rink tomorrow at 7pm. I’ll be waiting for you there, I promise.

You couldn’t hold in the little shriek of joy that made its way past your lips. It had to be Jeno. It couldn’t be anyone else. It had to be him. Holding the little note close to your furiously beating heart, you smiled and kicked your legs in joy before storing it carefully into your bag. Jaemin better be ready to help you choose an outfit for tomorrow and listen to you whine without asking too many questions about who you were actually going to meet.

When you arrived at the stadium the next day, clutching the note tightly in your hand, you double checked the time and carefully looked around before you tried to open the front door which to your surprise was actually unlocked. Taking a deep breath, you went in, closing the door firmly behind you before walking up to the second door that would take you to the bleachers. Slowly you pulled it open as well, hoping it wouldn’t make too much noise. The rink itself was just dimly lit, most of the lights turned off and on the ice there was a single figure skating around the perimeter, seemingly lost in their thoughts while aimlessly taking sharp turns that send pieces of ice flying, making the skids screech. You would have recognized that person between hundreds of other skaters, the midnight blue hair easily giving him away.

Jeno seemingly hadn’t noticed you yet and it gave you time to sort out your racing heart and thoughts. Had it really been him to write you all the sweet notes that you had begun to collect in a little box you hid from Jaemin in a box beneath your bed? Or was the universe playing a prank on you and it was just a coincidence that he was practicing right now, alone at night. But then again no one else was around and he really wasn’t dressed for practice, just wearing one of his big hoodies and jeans. It had to be his notes. And thinking back on it, he really had been the only person who had been at the same places, the notes had been showing up. From the dinner with the hockey team to the ones in your classes and at your work or in the library.

Slowly you made your way down the steps of the bleachers, keeping quiet so you wouldn’t disturb Jeno who was still skating around the rink. Once you arrived at the bottom row of seats, you took a seat next to a pair of skates and a pair of sneakers that probably belonged to Jeno. Sitting in silence, you watched his movements for a while. He was captivating to watch: Seeing him effortlessly glide over the ice before suddenly sprinting forward only to come to an abrupt halt or take a sharp turn. It was beyond you how he held his balance through it all.

Suddenly he halted in his moves completely to stare at the big clock on the back wall of the stadium that showed that it was fifteen minutes past seven already before he sighed deeply, raking a hand through his fluffy hair. Was he nervous? Nervous you wouldn’t come? Just when he was taking off, his eyes caught your figure and he stopped again, a big smile spreading across his face that made his eyes curl into the beautiful half-moon shape you adored. While you were busy trying to remember how to breathe, he was skating towards you, effortlessly jumping from the ice through a little door in the rink, walking towards you. “You came,” he beamed, kneeling down in front of you after he had grabbed the skates that were still lying next to you. “Yeah I did,” you answered, still not entirely sure what to make of this situation. With how fast your heart was beating, it must have climbed all the way up to your throat and you weren’t sure if you could have produced a proper sentence if you wanted to.

“I hope I didn’t misinterpret all of this,” Jeno mumbled while he carefully undid your shoelaces before slipping them off your feet, “And you’re just here to tell me to stop being creepy and not leave any more notes around.” The way he looked up at you from beneath his midnight blue bangs tugged at your heart and you couldn’t find any words to tell him just how okay you were with this, so you just nodded, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the skin feeling way too hot against the cold of the stadium. Smiling brightly Jeno quickly prepared the skates to slip onto your feet and laced them up tightly, his nimble fingers working fast and efficient. “Is this alright? Not too tight?” “Seems fine,” you smiled back at him, experimentally wiggling your toes. “Alright,” Jeno smiled, extending a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go.”

Shyly, you took his hand to let him pull you upright. On wobbly feet, you followed him to the little door in the rink, letting him step onto the ice first. “I’ve never done this before,” you confessed, almost reflexive reaching your gloved hands out towards him which he took with a gentle smile, squeezing them reassuringly. “I won’t let you fall,” he promised, tightening the grip on your hands. “Okay,” you whispered, carefully stepping onto the slippery ice, unsure how to work with the skates. “You’re a natural,” Jeno beamed when you finally stood with both feet on the ice. “I- I don’t know,” you shied away from the praise, wishing you could hide in your big scarf. “Hold on tightly now,” the hockey player warned before he skillfully moved his legs so he was sliding backwards, effectively pulling you with him. A little surprised sound escaped your lips and you clutched his hands tightly, worrying your gaze to your feet where you tried to stabilize yourself and keeping the skids up right.

“Don’t think so much about it. Look at me,” Jeno’s voice cut through the soft scratching noises of the skates. “I’ll fall if I do,” you argued. Also your heart would most likely leap out of your chest if you did. As if it wasn’t already beating furiously enough now that you were basically on a date with your crush and he was holding your hands. “I told you that I won’t let you fall,” he promised, slowing down his own movements until you came to a halt. Steadying yourself on the skates, you took a deep breath before looking up to meet Jeno’s eyes. And just like that time stood still. Under the dimmed lights in the stadium, it felt like you two were the only people on this planet. You got lost in the deep brown shade of his eyes and adored how his nose and cheeks were tinted a pretty blush color from the cold. “Hey there,” he whispered, tucking your scarf neatly around your neck where it had come undone, the gesture so intimate, it made your breath hitch. “Hi,” you answered dumbly and it made him smile, his eyes curving into the beautiful half-moon eye smile.

Before you could do anything stupid like coo hat how pretty he looked, his smile turned into a mischievous grin and he quickly let go of your hands to skid backwards a couple of meters further towards the center of the rink. “Jenoooo,” you whined once you had found your balance again, glaring to where he was making a couple of sharp turns, creating indents in the smooth ice and sending pieces flying. “Come over,” he called, opening his arms wide. “You just want to see me fall.” “You won’t, have some faith in yourself. Just kick with your skates until you gain momentum. It’s like walking just with a little more glide.” “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” “Just try it. For me,” Jeno smiled, sliding a little closer to you and opening his arms again. Sighing, you nodded, balling your hands into fists before you kicked your feet just how you had seen Jeno and the other’s do a hundred times before. Albeit very wobbly and slow, you were sliding over the ice. A smile slowly spread over your face as you kicked your feet again and again and you weren’t even mad when you noticed that Jeno steadily moved backwards to keep you going. “See, you’re a natural,” he beamed but just when he said that, you stumbled over one of the indents he had created earlier when he was showing off. You already prepared yourself to meet the cold unforgiving ice, making a complete fool out of yourself but instead two strong arms curled around you to pull you against a strong chest so you were stabilized again.

“I told you, I wouldn’t let you fall,” Jeno whispered, his hands steady on your waist. “Thank you,” you mumbled, slowly snaking your arms around him as well until your bodies were flush together. For a while you just stood on the ice, hugging each other until your breaths evened out, hearts beating in the same rhythm. “I’m so glad you actually came.” “Why wouldn’t I?” You mumbled into his neck. “Maybe you thought all my notes were creepy.” “I was really confused at first,” you admitted, “I thought it was a joke. I couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would write these to me. I was waiting for someone to bring up the topic so they could make fun of me. But deep down I really wished it was you who was writing them and that you actually meant everything you wrote.” The longer you spoke, the more you felt your face heat up. “I wish I had more courage to actually ask you out properly,” Jeno confessed, his voice quiet, “I kept seeing you around Jaemin and then you started to come to our matches. And then we ended up in so many of the same courses and guess what you’re not only very pretty but also incredibly smart. And I guess I kind of developed this huge crush on you with your big scarves and hoodies.” “Me... Me too, Jeno,” you whispered, your heart making summersaults in your chest and a smile spreading on your lips. Beneath your fingers you could feel Jeno chuckle. “Will you let me kiss you?” He asked softly and who were you to deny him?

Slowly you lifted your head from his shoulder and he carefully cupped your face before he leaned in to kiss you until your noses were touching. His bangs were tickling your face but you wouldn’t have wanted to have it any other way and crossed the last few centimeters between you to press your lips against his slightly chapped ones. Like you had all time in the world you just stood on the ice, lazily moving your lips together only ever separating to heave in a couple of breathes of air and share a soft giggle before claiming each other’s lips again with hearts beating like one.

Eventually Jeno pulled back when you leaned in to kiss him again, a big smile on his lips when you pouted. “You’ll get another one when you manage to skate a whole round in the rink,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “You’re the worst Lee Jeno,” you kept pouting, “You’re hurting yourself just as much as me.” “Come on, it’s going to be fun,” he smiled, snaking free from your grip to skate around you in quick motions. “Show off,” you mumbled underneath your breath but tried your best to copy his movements to fulfill his quest.

In the end he had been right, once you got the hang of it and didn’t lose your balance every time there was a dent in the ice, it actually as fun to chase each other around the rink even though you knew he was purposefully letting you catch up to him at times to steal more kisses. It still somehow didn’t feel real that you actually were here with Lee Jeno and that you were actually allowed to kiss him just like this. After what felt like hours, Jeno helped you out of your skates and you just sat on the bleachers cuddled up together beneath a blanket, looking down at the rink. “Are you going to see the match tomorrow?” He asked. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?” Jeno just hummed, a blush creeping up his cheeks and ears, this one definitely not from the cold. What was making him shy all of a sudden? “Would you... I mean... If you wanted to... Would you,” he stuttered before he groaned loudly and grabbed your hands tightly, “Willyouwearmyjackettothegame?” “What?” “My jacket... Would you wear it tomorrow?” He asked again, slower this time but still not meeting your eyes, instead looking at your interlocked hands. “Do you want me to?” You asked him back, a big smile on your lips. “I mean... I understand if this is a little fast but... But I’ve had this crush on you for the longest time and... And I would really like to show everyone that you’re you know...” “That I’m your girlfriend?” “Y... Yeah,” he admitted, shyly looking at you from beneath his midnight blue bangs. “Of course I will,” you smiled broadly, throwing your arms around him to hug him close.

And you did. After you and Jeno had talked for a little while longer about everything and nothing at all (and maybe some more kissing) until you had yawned more than he found acceptable, he had quickly run to the locker rooms to fetch his jacket that he had promptly laid over your shoulders on your way home. In front of your apartment building he had kissed you goodbye and wished you sweet dreams before he walked away to his own dorm room that he shared with Donghyuck so you had found out. You turned the key as silently as you could so you wouldn’t wake up your best friend who was out cold on the small sofa in your living room, the Netflix ‘Are you still watching?’ screen illuminating the room. Shaking your head, you draped a blanket over the sleeping boy and turned the TV off before getting ready for bed as well. The next morning you had to explain why you had Jeno’s jacket to a screaming Jaemin at an ungodly hour but in the end he was just excited as you were if not more because he didn’t have to hear both of you pining anymore because he had promised Jeno not to meddle.

You slipped into Jeno’s big jacket when you and your friend where about to leave so you wouldn’t be late to the match, you couldn’t help but smile, snuggling deep into the collar until your boyfriend’s smell engulfed you like a blanket. “Stop being gross or the best seats will be taken,” your best friend complained, tugging you with him and filling the way over to the stadium with chatter. “There are so many people,” you exclaimed when you had entered the stadium, looking around for free seats. “It’s the highlight of the season, what did you expect?” Jaemin asked, tugging you further down when he spotted Mark’s girlfriend waving excitedly at your two. She also was wearing a jacket with the name ‘Lee’ on the back just that hers had a big blue 2 on the back and not a 23 like yours. “You and Jeno?” She excitedly jumped up and down when she had spotted your jacket and you could only nod shyly. “I’m so happy for you. Mark told me how Jeno kept pining after you.”

“What’s with all the Lees over here?” A male voice cut in before you could answer anything and Johnny Suh sat down next to Jaemin, not clad in his usual dark red jacket with his name and the 9 on the back but in a rather small orange one with a giant blue 10 on the back. “You’ll fit right in,” Mark’s girlfriend chirped, making Johnny blush and hide his face in his knitted scarf, mumbling something about how stupid it was that it had to be so cold to play hockey and how much rather he’d be in his heated gym. “The joy of dating Korean guys,” Jaemin laughed, jumping up and climbing in a seat the row above you, “Let me take a picture, this is hilarious.” “Ten and Mark aren’t even Korean,” Johnny argued, “But Leechaiyapornkul would have been a bit excessive to put on a jacket.”

The rest of his argument was drowned out by the cheers that erupted when the players came from their lockers, the starting 6 quickly rounding the rink, making a couple of sharp turns and going through moves with their stick. Being their center forward player, Jeno was in the starting team along with Sungchan and Donghyuck. On the defense, Winwin and Mark were checking their gear before the captain made sure that all of Yangyang’s protective gear was on right. In the meantime Jeno was searching the bleachers and you couldn’t help but feel shy before you waved at him, jumping up and down so he would notice you. Because of the helmet you couldn’t know if he smiled at you but your heart made summersaults nonetheless when you playfully put on the hood of the jacket to show him that you were indeed wearing it. You imagined him laughing before he blew you a kiss with an over exaggerated movement that made quite a few people turn their heads to see who he could have blown the kiss to. Before you could even think about hiding, Johnny gripped your arm tightly and hissed: “If I am out here wearing Ten’s stupid jacket that is way too small for me while he refuses to wear mine in public because he’s not some trophy wife, you will not hide now.” Not knowing whether you should be afraid of Johnny or laugh at what really sounded like something Ten would say, you just nodded at the blonde, straightening out your back. From the opposite side you could see Ten sitting in the exchange box, a huge grin on his face when he must have spotted Johnny in the crowd (which really wasn’t that hard, the dude was unnecessarily tall).

“They better win this game or I will be mad,” the blonde grumbled when everyone had sat back down and the referee had called both team captains over. “It’s going to be a tight game,” Jaemin filled him in, “The gorillas have been on a roll for the past couple of games. But I have the feeling that a couple of players might just try extra hard today, trying to show off.” At the end, he threw both Johnny and you a very over exaggerated look completed with wiggling eyebrows which earned him slaps from both of you. “Now shut your mouth, Na Jaemin, I actually want to see this game.” “Wow she gets a hot hockey player as her boyfriend and suddenly she doesn’t need my top notch commentating anymore, that hurts.” “Shut up, Nana,” you smiled, focusing back to where in fact your boyfriend was playing on the ice just now. And even if you loved to see Jeno playing, you couldn’t wait for the game to be over to be back in his arms to congratulate him.

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katyasrussianaccent · 3 years ago

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symptom of your touch (natasha romanoff x reader)

Author's note: This is my first natasha smut fic, been writing it in my head for so long. Hopefully you enjoy this piece of self-indulgent smut!

Summary: You're Tony's personal assistant with a crush on Black Widow. Could it be possible that she might feel the same?

Warnings: Bathroom sex, bottom! Nat.

The first time you met Natasha was in the meeting room at Stark tower. You’d been working as Tony’s personal assistant for about two months now; a job that was both unexpected but incredibly appreciated - the daily bills through your letterbox were getting more and more threatening, red words in large letters demanding money you didn’t have.

You were a friend of Sam’s; you used to jog together before you were replaced by Captain America. You didn’t mind, not really, because well, it was Captain America. You couldn’t compete with that ass. And while you didn’t jog as much, Sam always made sure you were okay.

Like most people; you were a fan of the Avengers. If you had to pick a favourite, it would have been Black Widow. Maybe it was because she was the only woman, but there was something about her that you just really liked. And it wasn’t just because she’s really fucking hot and you’re really gay.

You had walked into the meeting room; your hands full with various drinks. For superheroes, the Avengers were really particular about their drink orders; for instance Thor gets really annoyed if they forget the whipped cream on his hot chocolate. You walked round the room, handing each drink out and trying to not look so obvious as you eavesdropped. You handed Clint his drink and turned towards Natasha. You assumed she had been away on a mission, because she hadn’t been around until now. You swallowed a little; the object of your affections was literally sitting right in front of you.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said, holding out her drink; a matcha green tea latte. She looked at you for a second, a thoughtful look on her face as she cocked her head towards Tony.

“What happened to…..?” Natasha trailed off, looking at Tony expectantly.

“Shannon. Pregnant,” Tony answered, putting his hands out over his abdomen to mimic a pregnant stomach. “She was two seconds away from turning the floor into a slip and slide.”

Natasha scrunched her nose up before looking back at you. She took the drink from your hand, a small smile on her face before she turned back to the team. And it was in that brief moment, that you knew that she was going to be a big problem for you.

It’s a while before you see Natasha again; not that you were keeping check. You’re in the meeting room cleaning up; humming a song as you pick up pieces of paper. The door opens and you look behind to see Natasha standing in the doorway.

“Oh. Good afternoon Agent Romanoff,” you say, smiling. She was in her civilian clothes; a simple tank top and dark jeans. The jeans are practically molded to her shape, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not stare at her ass as she passes behind you. You aren’t sure how someone could make such a simple outfit look so amazing. “Did you need something?”

“Clint, he forgot his phone,” she replies, walking behind you and grabbing the cell phone that lay on the table. “I swear he would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Good thing he has you to keep him in check.”

She smiles politely in reply but doesn’t respond as she walks towards the door. Your mouth opens slightly to say something, anything, to make her stay just a little bit longer. You fail to do so in time, and you sigh as the door closes and the room is empty again. You aren’t sure what makes Natasha so fascinating, you’ve spoken to her literally twice, but there’s just something about her that makes her so enigmatic. Though you suppose it’s literally her job to be like that, and you briefly think of the people that have fallen under her spell.

It’s strange, how although she’s incredibly dangerous, she feels just like a normal person, a person that could kill you in one move, but a normal person nonetheless.

You’re chopping tomatoes in the kitchen, your mind starting to zone out as you watch the knife slice through with ease. It’s been a long day; while working for Tony has been a lifeline that you desperately needed, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so tired. The fridge door beside you closes, and you startle at the sudden noise, the knife moves from the tomato to your finger, the pain sharp as blood begins to pool in the cut.

“Fuck,” you say, hissing as you press you other hand against the cut, moving to the sink to run it under water.

“I am so sorry,” a voice says behind you, and you turn your head to see Natasha at your side. “Are you okay?”

You sigh a little, “I’m fine, but the tomatoes are ruined.”

Natasha moves nearer to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from her body and any previous pain you felt has suddenly disappeared at the mere proximity of her. “It’s okay, Stark can afford a few tomatoes.”

You giggle before reaching over to get a paper towel, but Natasha beats you to it, pressing the towel onto your wound wordlessly.

“Baby,” she mutters as you wince and you look at her, mouth agape in shock. She ignores you, and you take this opportunity to look at her as she tends to the small cut on your finger. She must have been somewhere hot on her last mission; from this close you can see the slight colour on her nose and cheekbones where she’s caught the sun. As she moves out of your personal space, the scent of her invades your nostrils and you’re surprised that she smells so delicate and floral.

“I think you’ll live” she says, jutting her chin out to point to the small band aid on your finger.

“Have you ever thought about being a doctor?”

“Why? My bedside manner not appealing to you?” she asks, and you look down to hide the blush on your face as you think briefly about what Natasha’s bedside manner could entail.

“Uh, not at all, it’s very appealing. I mean, not very appealing -”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says as she leaves the kitchen, leaving you with a bandaid on your finger and a warmth between your thighs.

The first thing you notice about the party is how loud it is. It’s Tony’s birthday, so Stark tower has been transformed into a full on party tower. The room is crammed with people, and you take a moment to look around to see if you can find someone you know to attach yourself to. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, you just weren’t the type to spark a conversation with strangers. You can see Thor in the middle of the room, holding a keg as Steve is on the floor chugging from it. Guess even Captain America needs to let loose sometimes.

You bite your lip as you scan the people near you, your eyes zeroing in Natasha. You take the opportunity to watch her briefly from a distance. She looks amazing, a simple black dress that has a slit to the upper thigh that shows a delicious amount of leg when she moves. You haven’t spoken since she called you cute, and the more you thought about it, the more confused you were. While cute was a compliment, you weren’t sure if she meant it in a puppy kind of way. Sexy wasn’t the first thing you thought about yourself, but you kind of wish that she had picked a better word. Maybe you were just imagining tension that wasn’t there because you hoped it was there.

You exhale any nervousness and plaster a smile on your face as you walk towards her. She raises an eyebrow in greeting and you wave at her, immediately regretting it.

“Hi,” you greet and she smiles a little.

“You look nice,” she says, her eyes roaming over your body. Okay, maybe you weren’t imagining things.

You blush, your face feeling warm as you mutter a quiet thanks. “It has pockets,” you respond lamely, putting your hands in them and pulling the dress out, like she needs to be shown what pockets were.

“Drink?” Natasha asks, cocking her head towards the bar. You shake your head. “You don’t drink?”

“I do, just not here. I don’t want to make an idiot of myself in front of my boss,” you answer. You don’t have a problem with alcohol per se, you just never know when to call it quits. And while drunk you is fun, you really want to make a good impression.

Natasha nods in understanding but walks off towards the bar anyway, and you stand there for a second confused before following.

“Two virgin daiquiris,” you hear her say as you get to her. You can see the bartender pull a face at the request, but it quickly disappears when he sees who’s ordering.

“Coming up,” he mumbles, his eyes glued to anywhere but Natasha as he moves with haste.

“I think you scared him,” you comment and Natasha smiles a little, a smug smile that shouldn’t be so sexy, but it really is.

“I get that a lot,” she replies and you hum in acknowledgement. “Do I scare you?”

The question takes you aback and you ponder a moment before answering. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”

“Answer the question,” she says, a little firm in her tone.

“No. No you don’t scare me.”

She purses her lips. “I think you might be one of the only ones not scared of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing.

“Fear is a very powerful thing. I like the way it feels,” she says, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so vulnerable.

“There are other powerful emotions other than fear,” you reply. You aren’t sure how to respond to her, serious conversation was not your strong suit.

“Like?”

“Lust. Love. Anger.”

There’s a beat of silence between you as you look at each other, your eyes reading over her unreadable face, nothing on her features to give away what she's thinking.

“So you aren’t scared of me. What emotion do you feel?” Natasha asks, causing you to splutter as you take a sip of you drink and you’re suddenly wishing your drink had alcohol in it.

“Out of the three I just gave?” you ask and she nods. “Uh well, I hadn’t um really thought about it.”

It’s stupid of you, to lie to a literal spy and you know for a fact she know’s you’re lying.

“That’s not true,” she replies and you take a sideways glance at her. “You think I haven’t noticed you looking at me?”

Your heartbeat quickens and you start to stammer an apology. “I - “

“I know, because I’ve been looking at you too.”

“Wait what?” you ask incredulously. “Are you sure there’s no booze in this drink?”

Natasha laughs and you smile at the sight of her. “Very sure. You’re very cute, did you know that?”

“I did not, but now I do. I’ll be honest, this doesn’t happen to me a lot, so I’m not really sure what to say or do.”

She slides closer to you, a smirk on her face as she leans close, her breath warm on your cheek. “Well there’s a bathroom over there.”

It takes a minute for you to register what she means, and you can see her wait patiently as you look at the bathroom door across the room and then back at her. The blood is rushing in your ears as you grab her hand and pull her across the room, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The bathroom is luckily empty when you both enter, and your hands don’t leave hers as you push her into the stall furthest away from the door. You open your mouth to speak but it’s interrupted as she surges forward, her lips on yours. She tastes like strawberries with a slight hint of booze, and you wonder how many drinks she’s had before you arrived. You find yourself not really caring as her hands move to your neck, yours follow down to her hips, your fingertips ghosting her back.

You’ve kissed before, but this is different, like fireworks and gunpowder in a small room; every nerve in your body alight with hot, searing fire. You switch her round so her back is against the door, your hands roaming ever inch of her body, tight muscle beneath your fingertips. Part of you wants to take your time, explore every part of her, but the greedy part of your brain wins out and it’s not long before you’ve got one hand moving in between her thighs.

Your mouth is on her neck, licking and sucking at the hollow of her collarbone, a small moan falling from her lips and you want to hear that sound again and again. She opens her legs and you cup her above her panties before going underneath them, your fingers moving past soft curls and into the warm, wetness of her pussy.

You curl your fingers up, and she gasps, her breath hot and fast against your skin. You move them inside her, pumping in and out slowly as her hand grips at your hip. It feels powerful; to have the great Black Widow fucking herself on your fingers in an act of desperation.

“Please,” she whispers as you continue to slowly move.

“Please what?” you ask, stopping completely causing a small whine to escape her lips.

“Please fuck me,” Natasha replies, rolling her hips against your fingers.

“Okay,” you say simply. You press a kiss to her cheek before sinking to your knees. A brief thought about gross bathroom floors crosses your mind, but you push it away as her hand strokes your hair. She takes the hint and pulls her dress up around her hips. Your hands move up her thighs, nudging them apart so you can pull down the lacy underwear she wears; shoving them into your bag. Pressing kisses up her thigh, her breath hitches as your mouth ghosts against her clit. She sighs as your tongue swipes at her once before moving in to circle at her clit with your tongue.

She moans, a low, quiet moan that ends quickly as you both hear the bathroom door open, the chatter of two women filling the once silent room. You look up at her, raising an eyebrow in question. Natasha looks down at you, a slight flush on her cheeks as she nods. You place a finger to your lips, before moving back between her thighs. She tastes sweet, sweeter than you imagined, but there’s something there, a slight tang that makes your tongue tingle. Of course she would taste fucking perfect; everything about her is perfect, and you can’t stop yourself from tasting her more and more, drinking her in.

Your fingers join your mouth and she’s warm as she clenches with every movement inside her. She’s jutting her hips against your mouth, and you can feel your wrist start to cramp as you fuck her roughly, but you know she’s close, the grip in your hair getting harder. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, your knees are starting to hurt, but you want to make her come undone, to fall apart.

You hook her leg over your shoulder to get deeper, never stopping the pace as you fuck her. Her body begins to shudder, and you look up to see her shove a fist in her mouth at the exact moment the toilet next to you flushes. A moan escapes her but neither of you seem to care as she rides the wave of her orgasm. Her chest has a sheen of sweat, and you want to run your tongue over it, taste the salt of her skin. But that’s for another time.

Natasha looks down at you as she tries to catch her breath, and you get to your feet ungracefully, wincing as your knees twinge. There’s uncertainty in your stomach as you look at her. What does this mean, does it mean anything to her? You had just made her cum in a bathroom stall, but maybe that was normal. It wasn’t to you, but normality was subjective.

“This party’s kind of boring, do you want to get something to eat?” Natasha asks, breaking you from your inner turmoil. You blink at her as your brain registers what she’s saying. The once uncertain voice in your head is screaming at you to say yes.

“Sure,” you reply simply.

“Cool,” she says, nodding, her face still slightly flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she felt a little awkward.

“I’m not getting those panties back am I?” she asks as you walk towards the bathroom door and head back into the party.

“Nope,” you say, patting your bag for good measure. “Besides, you might not need them.”

#my fic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #black widow #black widow x you #avengers fanfiction #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov x you #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff imagine

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rebeccccccaaa · 4 years ago

Text

O̶l̶d̶ M̶a̶n̶ M̶o̶v̶e̶s̶

__________________________ Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve shows you a thing or two about being an old man.

Warnings: *AGE GAP*, smut 18+ minors dni, very dark/inappropriate joke (only mentioned once but beware)

Author’s Notes: I know this isn’t the most original but hEr yA gO lol (ps this a long one but boy is it a good read #prettyproud ;) lmao) __________________________

“Hey Nat, do you know anything about World War II?” you peeked your head in her room.

“Nope, ask Steve.”

“Hey Tony, do you know anything about World War II?” you walked into the lab.

“Nope, ask Steve.”

“Hey Sam, where’s Bucky?” you walked in the kitchen.

“Mission.”

“Well, do you know anything about World War II?”

“Nope, ask Steve,” you grunted and rolled your eyes.

“Hey Wanda, do you know anything about World War II?”

“Nope, have you asked Steve?”

“Ugh! Everyone keeps saying that,” you flopped down on her bed.

“And why aren't you asking him?”

You looked at her raising an eyebrow. She was the only, well you think Nat knows but Wanda is the only person you told about your little crush on the super soldier. Upon seeing your face, Wanda chuckled humorously. One time she caught you during a meeting thinking about Steve; every part of Steve. To say you were embarrassed would be an understatement.

“What about Bucky?”

“He’s on a mission. Hey, what are you watching?”

“Malcolm in the Middle.”

“Nice.”

You laughed at the show for a bit before grunting remembering that you had to finish the history report for your college professor who’s as old as sliced bread. Before you walked out Vision phased through the door.

“Ooh! Vis, tell me everything about World War II!”

“No, Vis! Don’t tell her a single thing! You have to ask Steve,” she scolded.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Wanda,” you whined.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his room,” she smirked.

“Please don’t make me do it,” you begged hyperbolically.

“Then fail your report,” she smirked evilly.

“Dammit, Wanda,” you left her room hearing her snicker.

You stomped to your room and collapsed on your bed. You sat at your computer for twenty minutes until a knock disturbed your dreadful staring.

“Steve!” you shouted opening the door.

“Hey, Sam told me you needed help with a history report?”

“Sam told you?”

“Yeah; and Tony, and Nat, and Wanda,” Steve phoned chimed suddenly.

“Oh, uh, Buck just texted me saying Sam told him that you need help with uh, a history report,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, World War II,” you gritted.

“Well,” he stood awkwardly at your door still.

“Come in,” you moved over to let him in.

Steve walked in and sat on the edge of your bed. You scurried over and threw yourself on the bed gathering all your papers and books and your laptop. You sat criss crossed on the bed before looking up at him ready for learning, I guess.

“Ok so what exactly do you need to know?” Steve smiled.

“Oh well, uh, maybe we start with life before soldiers got drafted?” you suggested.

Steve smiled remembering tons of stories and memories of him and Bucky being teenagers in New York. You stopped caring about your report altogether and just kicked back to listen to all about Steve. The way he lit up whenever remembered something he forgot to tell you made your heart burst.

At one point he started laughing so hard, as were you, when he slapped his hand directly on your thigh and squeezed hard from pure humor. Needless to say, you instantly stopped laughing and zeroed in on his large hand and the way it gripped your thigh.

“Awe man, that such was a good day,” he breathed out once he cooled down.

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird,” you said, coming back to reality.

“Why’s that weird?”

“I don’t know? You’re the captain, you don’t have fun. You’re an old man,” you giggled.

“Old man? Kid, you’re hurting me,” he clutched his chest dramatically.

“Hey, I already told you to stop calling me kid. I’m twenty years old,” you crossed your arms.

“Hey come on, I’m just joshing ya,” he smirked.

“Who the fuck says ‘joshing ya’?” you laughed.

“What, the kids don’t say that nowadays?” he laughed.

“No!” you were cracking up rolling on the bed.

“You’re supposed to be doing your history report,” he defended.

“You’re such an old man, oh god.”

“And you’re such a child,” he pinned you down on the bed.

“Ooh, someone busting out the old man moves. Get off grandpa,” you smirked.

“Make me, kid,” he emphasized ‘kid’.

You two glared at each amusingly, both trying you very best to not smile. Your shirt had ridden up your stomach and Steve could somewhat see the exposed skin. He didn't think you were a kid per say, he thought you were a very beautiful young woman; too young. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to pursue any sort of relationship with you; it’s not like you were very incognito when it came to checking him out. He knew that you liked him.

Explains all the teasing you do too.

The close proximity between you two make you both bothersome; Steve's muscle clenching and fighting every urge in his body to do something he might regret, or worse, something you’ll regret. Your stomach flipped and your mind wandered to what it would be like if you were in this position under different circumstances.

In an attempt to relieve yourself without Steve knowing you clenched your thighs softly before moving your knee up. Upon moving your knee, your eyes widened and Steve instantly got off you covering his modesty with your sheet. Your face slowly turned into a mischievous smirk before raising your eyebrow at Steve, who profusely blushed under your taunting gaze.

“Do kids turn you on?” you joked.

“Y/n!” Steve groaned at your highly inappropriate joke.

“I’m kidding!” Steve simply rolled his eyes at you.

“I’m just joshing ya,” you grinned, making Steve chuckle.

“How much of your report have you done?” Steve reached for your laptop; making you panic because you didn’t even have your name let alone a title typed out.

“Seriously?” he looked at you like a stern father.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said.

“You don’t even have your name,” he cracked a smile.

“Well, your stories are just too captivating; I was distracted,” you weren’t exactly lying, seeing Steve seem so relaxed and carefree thinking back on memories made you smile.

“Distracted,” he repeated sarcastically.

“Yeah, I was,” you felt small as Steve got closer to you.

“Is this distracting now?” he mocked.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

He looked at your lips before running his nose along your cheek and your own nose. He pressed his lips too close to your lips, of which you were desperate for him to touch. Your hands grabbed at his arms that were held tightly on your waist for any sort of stability. You felt like you were going to pass out.

“You better finish that report if you know what’s good for you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Huh?” you breathed out seeing as Steve has stood up and made his way to your door.

“You heard me. Come find me when you’ve been a good girl and finished that report,” he slipped out smoothly leaving you high and dry, or rather soaking in arousal.

Your eyes were practically bulging from your head and you couldn’t believe the Steve with that gnarly stick up his ass was the same one that just easily turned you on like an easy-bake oven and called you a ‘good girl’. You immediately rushed to grab your laptop googling facts about World War II and typed faster than Usain Bolt could run.

Meanwhile Steve stood in the shower with cock in hand, his thumb rubbing over the tip leaking with precum. He ran his hand down his shaft and threw his head back at the pleasure. He moaned your name and tensed his muscles getting close to a release.

He had to hold on to the wall to keep his knees from buckling. The sight of seeing you under him, squirming and wiggling so innocently made his cock twitch. He knew that you liked him, it wasn’t necessarily a huge secret; you weren’t desperate to hide that fact. But he knew you weren’t going around telling people so he never said anything.

He went to your room genuinely trying to help with your college report and he got enthralled with his own memories. He didn’t exactly know when the air shifted but he realized it indefinitely when your body tensed under his hand that rested perfectly on your thigh.

He remembers the softness of skin and remembers the way your breathing quickened. He kept the conversation going as innocently as possible but then you started teasing him about his age, about what an old fashioned sucker he was. And all he could think about in that moment was flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress you showing his “old man moves”.

“Fuck,” he moaned to himself.

Soon enough after a couple more pumps, he painted the shower walls with his cum desperately wishing it was your stomach or even your back. He just wanted you there with him. He felt guilty thinking about you like that. He knew if he were ever to get with you he wouldn't be able to keep up. You were so spright and mischievous and beautiful and gorgeous and sexy and… wait; slow down, Steve.

He got out of the shower and cleaned himself off. He changed and just stayed in his room letting the sounds of the TV drown any thoughts he might wandered to you. A sudden knock broke the silence settled in his room and he opened the door to find his best friend.

“Hey, man,” Bucky smiled.

“Buck, your back,” Steve opened the door further letting him come in.

“Oh, did you get my text? About helping Y/n with her report? Heard it’s like forty percent of her grade,” he said.

“Yeah uh, I did,” Steve said hesitantly; Bucky narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Steve retorted.

“I don’t believe you. Come on what happened?” Buck chuckled.

“She called me an old man,” Steve pouted.

“Haha! Seriously?”

“Yeah but jokes on her cuz I-” Steve stopped himself, what if his best friend thought he was a creep.

“Oh no, did you guys fuck?” he asked suddenly.

“Buck,” Steve groaned.

“You did, didn’t you!”

“Almost!” Steve bursted out, his eyes widening in fear.

“Hey, why are you all freaked out? I thought you liked her?” Bucky questioned.

“Yeah, but what? She’s too young. I thought you were gonna think I was a creep,” Steve was confused.

“Well, how old is she?”

“She’s uh, she’s twenty, almost twenty-one,” he muttered.

“Oh, yikes. Uh, I don’t know man. I mean you’re both adults,” Bucky said.

“Fuck, man. I really fucked up,” Steve said making Bucky ‘language’ him of which Steve glared back.

“Did you kiss her?”

“No, almost,” Steve responded.

“Ok then what happened?”

Steve explained to Bucky what happened just hours ago and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at his poor friend's antics.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Steve,” Bucky joked.

“Buck, you’re not helping,” Steve grunted.

“Well, either you keep your promise and fuck her good, or be that old man she called you with a stick up your ass and make her feel like shit. No pressure though. See for dinner, I’m going to beat the shit out of Sam,” Bucky stood up.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” with that Bucky left.

Steve sat there on his bed conflicted. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. All he knows is that you’re a beautiful girl and Steve wants nothing more than to show you; he knows you'd be more than willing to let him have his way with you. But on the contrary, you are too young. There are tons of guys who would be so lucky to call you theirs; and they’re your age.

Then again, Steve can’t even imagine another man putting his hands on you. They’d never be able to pleasure you like he could. Ugh, but you called him an old man! Fuck this, Steve thought, I’m taking a nap.

You sat in your room busying yourself with facts about the war. You cried about the horrid things that happened, terrified that people that live in the world. You were even more shocked that Bucky and Steve lived through that.

You glanced at the clock noticing the many hours that had passed you. It was sundown which usually meant Wanda was going to come by any minute-

“What do you want for dinner?” There she is.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Haven't had much time to think about it,” you said lifting your laptop.

“Did Steve come?”

“I don’t know but he came pretty close,” you said snarkily. When he left about 5 minutes after you had to change your panties because you couldn’t focus on the report with arousal dripping out of you.

“What the hell does that mean?” Wanda sat on your bed. You told what happened when Steve came by, how innocent everything seemed until it wasn’t. Wanda was rolling on your bed in laughter, snorting at your frustration.

“Wandaaa,” you whined.

“Sorry, sorry. But I’m confused,” she cooled down.

“What’s there to be confused about; Steve Rogers is a fucking tease,” you grunted.

“I thought this is what you want. He clearly seems to like you back,” she said.

“I don’t know it’s just-”

“Just what?”

“It’s not exactly clear whether he likes me or just wants some young, fresh meat. He didn’t say he liked me back.”

“Did you say you liked him in the first place?”

“No.” Wanda sighed at your answer. Were you overreacting?

“Y/n, I’ve known Steve for a long time and he’s not that kinda guy.”

“People change.”

“Y/n-”

“I just wish it stayed like a little stupid crush, because then I wouldn’t have to worry about my heart getting broken like that; worrying whether it’s real or not. Pining hurts so good, it’s comfortable.”

“Well, on a lighter note, how’s the report?” Wanda changed the subject so you wouldn’t feel bad anymore.

“I’m almost done, I think I’m gonna skip out on dinner. I’m really close to finishing,” you told her.

“Want me to bring you a plate?” she asked.

“Yes, please.”

Everyone sat at the table eating silently. Sam held an ice pack to his face because Bucky accidentally threw a rock at him; seriously it was an accident. Bucky threw the rock at his groin but Sam tripped back and the rock landed on his face. There are no hard feelings though, Sam said he was gonna get him and now Bucky’s arm is disabled and limp.

Steve stared at the seat across from him, it was the seat you always took next to Wanda. You weren’t here for dinner and he was wondering if it had something to do with him. Did he make you uncomfortable enough that you never want to see him?

“She’s finishing her report,” Wanda said, her voice echoing in Steve’s head.

“Ooh what’s the gossip?” Nat said humorously seeing as Wanda’s eyes glowed red as did Steve’s.

“Nothing,” Steve mumbled.

“He was wondering where Y/n was?” Wanda said making Steve shoot daggers at her.

“You miss your little girlfriend?” Sam joked.

“Shut it,” Steve growled.

“She never misses dinner. Where the brat?” Tony asked.

“She has a history report for a college class and she told me she was almost done and that she was gonna skip dinner,” Wanda explained.

No more questions were asked and everyone ate in peace. Small talk and laughter was exchanged appropriately but Steve couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you lied to Wanda to get out of dinner. What if you hate him now? What if you were creeped out by him now? Fuck.

“Steve your plate?” Wanda asked him.

“Oh sorry, I’m finished. Thank you,” he handed her the plate of picked food.

“Y/n, asked me if I could bring her a plate when we were finished.”

Steve simply looked puzzled at her.

“Take this. And don’t break her heart,” she said handing him your plate.

“I would never,” he said.

“Don’t tell me, tell her.”

Steve walked hesitantly up to your room. He knocked careful not to disturb you. He heard you shout, giving him access to your room and he found you laying on your stomach typing away on your laptop while cartoons played lowly on the TV.

“I brought your dinner,” he said softly.

“Thank you! Ugh, I’m starving but I swear I have like two sentences.”

He smiled and placed your food on your bedside before sitting on the bed with you. He watched your face carefully memorizing the smallest things about you that he’s never really noticed before. He noticed the dryness of your lips because you bit them whenever you were immensely focused just as now.

He admired the small creases between your eyebrows and the way you scrunched your nose. Your hair was a little crazy and he noticed you had changed since he’d last been with you. He thinks he knows why that is and if it was true, he felt a sense of pride almost. Imagine if he really got to touch the way he wants. How ruined you would be.

“Steve?” you asked.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Are you ok?” you smiled awkwardly.

“Oh uh, yeah. I’m ok.”

You ate quietly, eyes trained on the TV and Steve felt out of place. He went to stand up but you placed your food down and called after him.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“I didn’t think you wanted me here anymore,” he said softly.

“But, but you said to come find you when I finish my report. You’re already here,” you said shyly.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think-”

“I was a good girl and finished,” you said innocently biting your lip.

“Y/n,” Steve sighed.

“What?” Oh no, you guessed it. He doesn’t actually like you and he's just messing with you.

“Hey look at me,” Steve grabbed your chin softly. You didn’t want to but you ultimately did.

“I want nothing more than to reward you for being a good girl but I can’t,” he said sadly.

“It's because I’m too young, isn’t it,” you whined.

“I can’t do that to you. You have your whole life ahead of you, sweetheart. An old man like me shouldn’t keep you back like this,” he said.

“You’re not keeping anywhere, I’m an Avenger just like you. I don’t have anybody else. I’m only going to college because Tony’s paying for it and I took this stupid histroy class because I wanted to know more about what life was like for you. Because I like you,” you said.

“Y/n, you can have anyone and you’re choosing me?” he chuckled.

“Yes, guys my age don’t even know where the clit is!” you shouted exasperated.

“Show them,” he said stupidly.

“Ah, yes. Because a twenty-two year old college frat boy is gonna wanna listen to you tell him how to have sex,” you said squinting your eyes, making Steve chuckle.

“I don’t want a guy my age, I want you.”

Steve cupped your face softly and you leaned into his hand with a childish pout. Steve smiled at you and your pout turned into a smile too.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, babygirl,” he sighed, pushing you down to lay on the bed.

“Not if you die from a stroke first old man,” you cracked.

Steve wrapped his large hand around your neck bringing his face dangerously close yours.

“Smart mouth, and to think I was about to reward you.”

His voice gave you chills and you audibly whimpered under him. Steve pressed his leg between your thighs and your body shudder feeling his muscular thigh firmly pressed against your core.

“Fuck,” your voice shook.

“Does that feel good?” he asked mockingly, he knows what he’s doing.

“Yes, Stevie,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, you sound sweet whimpering and shaking under me. Almost feel kinda bad.”

His hand squeezed a bit harder and your body melted into the bed. He leaned down and kissed for the first time. Your eyes opened wide before fluttering closed again wallowing in his kiss. Your hand moved from his forearm to his face cupping it gently and your lips moved against his impeccably.

His lips faltered and trailed down your throat, his hand pulling your hair gently to move your head back to give him more room. He nipped and bit at your throat hungrily before soothing his marks with his tongue. His hands sneaked up your shirt, his fingertips grazing the skin under your breasts. He could feel the chills that rose all over your skin and he chuckled darkly in your ear.

“Is this ok?” he asked softly tugging the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes, please,” you moaned.

Steve pulled them down little by little pressing kisses to every new part of exposed skin. He littered your hip bones and thighs with light bruises and bites. You were practically dripping in arousal, toes curling under themselves anticipating Steve’s next move.

He stood up at the edge of the bed keeping his eyes trained on yours, slowly unbuckling his belt. He pulled his pants down showing off his very impressive length. He gripped with his hand pumping it softly. He grabbed your ankle with his other hand and pulled you close to the edge of the bed.

“Lay on your stomach, babygirl,” Steve directed.

You eagerly flipped over, pushing your ass up to the air. Steve smiled at your ambition and gently rubbed your cheeks you put up for him. He pumped his cock a few times before lining himself up with you.

“Fuck, you gonna be my good girl?” he asked seductively.

“Yeah, fuck. Stevie, fuck me good,” you moaned.

“Open up those pretty legs for me, will ya?” Steve smirked. You spread your legs wider and arched your back more. When Steve finally pushed past your entrance, you felt so full.

“You gotta breathe baby,” Steve soothed.

“Sorry, you’re just… so big,” you whimpered.

“I know baby but you're taking my cock so well, you're being such a good fucking girl.”

“Steve!” you squeaked.

Steve snapped his hips in and out of you rapidly and you couldn’t help the high-pitched moans that escaped your mouth. Steve gripped your hips harshly, forming littles red and purple marks on your hip bones that you’ll have to admire tomorrow morning.

You gasped and moaned at the feeling of Steve’s cock driving into you and you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Stevie, I’m gonna come! Fuck, I can’t hold it. Please daddy let me come!”

“Come on pretty baby, come for daddy. Make a mess all over my cock like a good girl,” he groaned above you.

Your body trembled and your arms fell forward as you nearly screamed Steve’s name in pure ecstasy. You breathed heavily but Steve wasn’t done with you yet. He pulled his still ever hard dick out of you momentarily to rid his shirt. He walked to the side of the bed and sat comfortably with his back against the headboard.

“Come here baby girl. I know you’re tired but I think you pull one more for me, yeah?” his voice was silky.

You whimpered and tried your best to sit up all the way, crawling desperately over to Steve. He kissed you softly before slowly pulling the hem of your shirt over your head to expose your breasts fully to him.

“Fuck, you are just too beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, his voice raspy making your body shudder above him.

His hands roamed your body; smoothing over your ribs, your hips to your thighs, back to hips against pulling you impossibly closer to him. His lips again just as before nipped and pecked the skin along your neck and collarbones and you could resist the small whimpers you made.

“Steve,” you moaned.

“I got ya, baby. I’m right here.”

You looked into his lust blown eyes before kissing him messily. Your age divulges your experience but Steve couldn't care less. You lifted your hips for him and he lined himself once again to your entrance.

Your arousal made it easier this time around and you were able to fully bask in the feeling and pleasure from Steve’s length. You hastily moved your hips around, back and forth, the position completely new to you. You felt erotic and confident and Steve’s kisses and praises did nothing but egg you on.

“You're doing so good, my love. God, you keep clenching me like that and I’m gonna blow,” he moaned.

“Please, Stevie. I want to make you feel good,” you encouraged.

“You already are, don’t even worry about that,” he smirked.

Your hands gripped at his shoulders hard, nails digging into his pale skin. Your clit rubbed against his pelvis and soon enough you felt another orgasm approaching quickly. As you grew tired, Steve’s hands went to your cheeks and aided you in moving back and forth.

Your arms gave out again and you fell against Steve's torso still thrusting your hips back and forth with his help. The pressure built rapidly in your lower stomach and you couldn’t hold it again.

“Steve,” you moaned.

“I know, just hold on, please. I wanna come with you; I’m almost there,” he gasped.

You held back as long as you but soon enough your body shook against Steve, desperate to release everything you have in you. In an attempt to distract yourself momentarily, you treated Steve the same by nipping and kissing the skin of his neck and shoulder. Your hands combing into his hair, tugging on his short blonde hair.

“Ok, go ahead babygirl,” he grunted, “Fuck!”

“Ugh, Steve!” you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his shoulder. Ecstasy waved over you and you feel euphoric. Your body trembled from intensity and Steve whispered soft praises in your ear. His words soothed you and your eyes felt heavy. Steve tracing little patterns on the small of your back did not help your tired case.

“I gotta clean you up, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“No, stay with me, please,” you whined.

“I promise I’ll be back,” he chuckled.

“Hm,” you huffed.

You slowly rolled off of Steve and he practically ran to your bathroom emerging with a warm wet towel in hand. You laid limply on the bed, your breathing slowly returning to normal. Steve kissed your stomach and hips softly as he cleaned between your thighs gently. He went back to the bathroom and cleaned himself up as well.

“Come back,” you whined, making him chuckle.

“Yay,” you cheered softly when he did.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”

“Mh-hm,” you nodded tiredly.

“I freaking love you,” you said, hiking your leg over to lay on top of him again. You nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” There was a slight moment of pause.

“Do you love me?” your voice crack and tears brimmed your eyes.

“I shouldn’t…” he started. His heart nearly broke when you looked up at him with teary eyes; afraid he would say he didn’t and you fell in love just to get your heart broken.

“But I do,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, making Steve smile.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too, old man.”

The next morning, Steve slipped out of bed while you were still asleep, you looked so beautiful and peaceful. It took everything in him not to just crawl back into bed with you but Steve had a couple things to do and it was already past eight. He promised to himself that he was gonna come back before you wake up.

So he softly closed the door before immediately running around the compound filing paperwork, directing agents and trainees, meeting with Nick Fury, and lastly making breakfast for you and him. Wanda, Bucky, and Sam all sat at the counter eating bowls of cereal watching Steve frantically run around the kitchen making breakfast.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky spoke up.

“I’m making breakfast,” Steve momentarily stopped to say.

“Ok, but why are you freaking out like that? You’re running around like a crazy person.”

“I have to make it before-” Steve stopped himself. He didn't know whether or not he should say anything, whether you were comfortable with others knowing yet.

“What did you do?” Wanda said, smiling like an idiot.

“Nothing, I’m just really hungry and I need to make breakfast before I starve,” he said.

“Really?” Bucky said.

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“She’s aslee-” Steve stopped himself again.

The three at the counter bursted into a fit of laughter at Steve’s slip up and he just simply rolled his eyes before finally plating the food and running upstairs. Not without flipping the three still laughing off.

He slowly opened the door finding you still asleep in bed. He smiled at your beautiful form illuminated by the golden rays of the sun peeking through the curtains. He placed the food on your table before sitting on the bed, his hands softly running up and down your side to slowly wake you.

Your eyes fluttered open and upon seeing Steve’s gorgeous face you smiled.

“Good morning, old man,” you grinned cheekily.

“When are you let that go?” he shook his head.

“Never,” you winked.

“I brought you food, pretty girl.”

“Thank you,” you sat up covering yourself. You ate the food he made for you and made grabby hands for him to cuddle you. He laughed before crawling back into bed with you. You made a face though before he got fully under the covers and he gave a puzzled look.

“What?”

“Why are you all dressed?”

“I had a couple things to do this morning and then I made you breakfast. I couldn’t walk around in my birthday suit,” he laughed.

“Hm, fine. I’ll give you a pass,” you said making him chuckle, “Can you at least take your shirt off again?”

He smiled cheekily before getting up and taking his shirt and pants off leaving him in his boxers. You cheered making him laugh even harder before he dived into bed cuddling you extra close. His strong arms wrapping safely around you and his legs entangling themselves with yours.

You kissed him one last time before grabbing your TV remote and turning on the TV to watch cartoons.

“You know sometimes you really are a kid,” Steve snickered.

“Yeah grandpa? What about this,” you fluffed his beard that specks of grey hairs.

“Do I need to show my old man moves again?” he smirked.

“Yeah, I think you oughta,” you winked before Steve threw the covers kissing your stomach all the way to your core. You gotta admit, the old man’s got some moves.

==================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #chris evans smut #marvel smut #marvel fics #steve rogers x y/n

597 notes · View notes

deluluass · 3 years ago

Text

Attention

Since requests are open again, can i request a yan!bokuto developing a crush with one of the other teams' managers during their training camp? 👀

for: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa. hi bestie 😔 this is late (again), but i hope u like it 😍

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; underage drinking; (slight) sub!Bokuto👀; mild footplay

Three minutes.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds, to be exact, before the truth came for you like a ball careening towards your blindside:

You’re not supposed to be here .

Granted, the thought had already slinked its way into your brain ever since you’d overheard the coach crying on his phone, his wife on the other side of the line, that if he hadn't groveled and appealed to his college friend’s sense of honor, as he’d sniffled, they wouldn’t have even considered the team ( your team) to be worthy of receiving an invitation to this training camp.

Ignoring the worries that came after that was supposed to be easy. It shouldn’t have come at all . It’s irrational and it doesn’t help anyone. What was the point in fretting? Your boys are more than deserving— more than capable in fact —of going toe to toe with some of Tokyo’s best.

It’s also a given that those people don’t know anything about your team. You do live in a town half a day’s ride away from the capital. And how could you expect city folk to recognize a team that hails from a place where the cows outnumber the people three to one?

They’re bound to not know.

But the needless unease stayed and soon took a life of its own, the weight of it becoming heavier and heavier over the course of the weeks that you waited for that dreaded day, like a hungry beast that you diligently fed with your little what-if’s.

What if that place eats us alive?

What if they make fun of us?

What if, despite trying our hardest, all we do is lose?

What if these people take a single look at us and think that we’re not good enough?

What if they’re right?

The deep chasm on the scoreboard tells you exactly that, plain and without a hint of artifice.

Shinzen High has already scored five points.

Your team is still stuck at zero.

And the clock continues to tick.

“Chance ball!”

Your captain's voice was feeble against the noise of the ball being passed from one hand to another.

Odd, that.

Itsuki's not the type to pull his punches. Especially in the middle of a game; always one to use his entire chest when launching back at his enemies with a guttural roar.

You looked at the players standing on your side of the court— really looked at them, in a way that you should have instead of wasting your time entertaining those doubts— and found nary a trace of your teammates among those too-stiff, too-quiet boys that bore an uncanny resemblance to a bunch of rabbits caught in the headlights.

A chuckle erupted from your chest, surprising even you.

"Something funny?" the coach asked, his glance turning wary when you convulsed in a fit of shrill giggles.

"Yeah," you told him, shaking your head. “There is, Coach.”

From the bored expressions on your opponents’ faces to Shigeru’s (failed) attempt to set for Koyama, all the way to an audience that wasn’t even looking, who were, frankly, much more interested in what's on their phones than what’s in front of them.

How can you not find this funny?

You were worried about... this ?

You sighed, your head the clearest that it’s ever been in a long while, and stood from your seat on the bench.

The coach called out your name in a harsh whisper. You ignored him, not even bothering to explain yourself. After all, you’ve already spent too much of your energy on the wrong things.

And so, in the most polite way that you could, you shouted:

“Hey! What the fuck is this!”

Everyone might've gawked; the coach may have pulled you back to the bench with a strength that you didn’t know he possessed. There’s something much more important than being respectable, though.

“None of us ever cared about what these assholes think!” you pressed on, staring down at Takami, whose dad never fails to remind him that he’ll waste away his life fooling around with that useless club . “So, why,” you ask with a clear voice, “Why are we starting now?!”

Of course, just like any of your spur of the moment ideas, that hadn’t ended the way you hoped it would.

They still lost (they also did in the following game). All of the coaches (including yours and excluding the one from Nekoma High; that one just patted your back) had expressed their disapproval over what you did. You couldn’t regret it, however, no matter how humiliating their rebukes made you feel.

Because you don’t think you’ve seen any of your teammates look the least bit happy since you set foot into this place. But, now— even with the fact that all they've achieved so far is keep the floors clean with their diving laps— now, they do.

With that, it seems to you then that this place isn’t so bad, after all.

A day.

A day and ten hours, approximately, had already passed when Bokuto felt your presence acutely like the stinging red imprint a hurtled ball leaves on his skin. And just like the circumstances that lead to that bloodied, angry marking, you made your existence known with just as much force as a player spiking for the kill.

Some of them guffawed, out of disbelief and sheer delight both, because in all the years that they’ve trained together in preparation for the interhigh, they don’t think anyone has ever called them a bunch of “assholes” before.

They didn’t think much about that new team that arrived too late. So, yeah, Bokuto wanted to laugh, too, just like others. ‘ What a way to make an impression, huh?’ he wanted to say.

That wasn’t what he said, though.

Bokuto wasn’t even able to say anything.

He was too busy staring at your mouth, the resoluteness in your lips as if you knew exactly what to say; the way you looked at your teammates, like there was nobody else more astounding, more unbeatable at this game than the boys before you (though, surely, even you can see that they’re far from being any of those things).

And yet, there you were, your eyes incandescent; they might as well have been on fire, blazing with so much awe and unshakable faith and it was so clear for everyone to witness and— and Bokuto did not know what to do with it.

It was so embarrassing, truth be told. Bokuto may not be the most secretive guy around, but when the others eventually pointed out that he looked scared at the thought of facing them ( you ), he just couldn’t help but sulk.

“We’re not half the cheerleader she is, Bokuto-san,” Yukie teased him, patting his shoulder as she did, “but rest easy, we’ll try our best to boost morale.”

He just groaned, immediately locking his legs at a stand still when the others hooted, ‘Look at him! He looks like he’s about to piss himself bouncing his legs like that . ’ Really, what was he supposed to say?

Because, when he finally faced your team with that net in between and as he felt the ball against his palms when he aimed for a clean hit towards the floor, it’s not even fear that rushes through him.

Not even close.

Beyond the defeated faces, of the exhaustion slathered all over your team’s barks after each point he snatched under their noses, Bokuto saw you looking at him.

Just a flicker; a passing peek before that determined gaze settled back on the others. But it was there all the same: the pause in your breath as the ball detonated against your teammate’s frail arms, clutching the edge of the bench with your fingers as if it took everything in you to keep yourself from running towards the court.

To rush towards him.

To— to what ? Exactly? To scream at his face the same way you did earlier? That he's going too rough and hurting your precious friends?

There’s a part of him that wishes to stop. A strange, alien feeling that he supposes comes from the discomfort at the sight of you so troubled and wound up.

Oh, but you're just starting to understand!

That if there's someone who's truly astounding, unbeatable, and staggeringly brilliant at this game, it's him . And Bokuto wanted to drive that point home like he's never wanted anything else in his entire life.

His body stopped feeling like his own by the second set.

His legs were too light to be his, like there were coil springs underneath his feet that carried him higher and higher he swore he could brush the roof with his fingertips.

There’s a thrumming in his flesh that propelled Bokuto to move faster, to push that ache over the edge until there’s nothing left but the breathless exhilaration of seeing his opponents kiss the ground.

The air is getting thinner, like he’s scaling towards a mountain top as he sprints towards the other side of the court, long strides eating up the floor, uncaring for the sweat pouring down his cheeks.

Bokuto was willing to let this thing go on forever and ever and ever , for as long as he feels the searing heat of your eyes on him.

Until he turned his head in your direction.

You were smiling at something a spectator said.

He couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was it had pushed you to make a teasing remark to your team.

A banter ensued.

The referee blew his whistle as a warning.

You giggled.

Why?

“The ball, Bokuto!”

Why aren’t you looking?

His hands were two weights keeping him down, made heavier by that sinking sensation in his chest.

When did you stop looking?

It was too much, too unbearable that he could cry. The indifferent way you'd removed him from your line of sight was a sucker punch that's not as painful as the shame it leaves him with.

Were you even looking at all?

And he wonders with a shuddering exhale as he finally gathered the strength to raise an arm, Bokuto wonders what would happen if, just this once, he shot the ball towards y—

“Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi was calling out to him.

“Bokuto-san, we already won."

The ball within his grasp dropped.

Bokuto watched it bounce on the floor until it rolled over to somebody else's waiting palm.

He took a deep breath— in and then out, repeated it until everything came into sharp focus —and raised his head to squint at the scoreboard.

22-3

So they did.

The other side of the court was already empty, your team assembled to one corner; you were out of sight.

Everyone started to gather around him.

They took Bokuto along with their cheers and reprimands and accusations, like a strong current that carried him from the bench to the shower room, laughing as they handed him a towel, having noticed that he’d been too out of it to do anything else but stay half-naked in front of the sink.

“Are you alright, Bokuto-san?” he heard Akaashi ask over the teeming excitement surrounding them.

Blinking, Bokuto paused from wiping his bare torso as he replied, “Me?”

Their setter only nodded.

“Yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed, a tad louder than he ought to. “Yeah, dude! Of course! Never been better!”

“You were a man possessed," Masaki, still fresh from the shower, suddenly drawled from behind him.

“You were... quiet,” Ubugawa’s captain continued, reaching for the toothpaste laid next to Akaashi. “It was unlike you.”

Bokuto was about to say something, somewhere along the lines of “Really? I didn’t notice” when Daiki made his decision to wring the wet shirt in his hand, brandish it like a belt, and strike Bokuto’s back with it, the impact cutting across the room.

“You little..!” Bokuto turned with a snarl, poised and ready to throw the boy over his shoulder.

“Let it go, let it go,” Daiki chortled, grabbing Bokuto by his damp hair. “That’s for not giving us a warning, alright? Crazy bastard.”

Daiki shook his head as he walked away. “Never seen the idiot go hard like that,” he mumbled.

“That’s our ace for ‘ya!” Haruki echoed from his cubicle, to which the others responded with wolfish howls and sharp whistles, completely transforming the shower room into a tiled rainforest.

And Bokuto wanted to join along, because although the game still felt like an abrupt, fever dream, he’s well aware that he did something that he’s going to be proud of in the days to come. But somehow— for some unknown, beguiling reason, all he could do was stand there and make himself vulnerable to Kuroo’s antics.

The Nekoma captain looked at Bokuto through the mirror, clicking his tongue before lamenting about “ those poor country boys ” and their “ ill luck ”.

“Go easy on us small fries sometimes,” he added. “You were pretty scary back there.”

Kuroo gave his nape a quick pat before he went for the lockers, leaving Bokuto to stare at his reflection, features obscured by the fog.

Scary , he said.

Scary, huh.

A man possessed.

Bokuto wonders about its meaning, what coach had meant earlier when he’d jokingly called him a beast. He contemplated what about him had led them to think that way, tried his best to be perceptible of any changes.

His eyes were the same, although the pupils in the middle were large pools of tar, widened and leaving only the slightest space for the honeyed rim.

His hair was the same platinum color and still streaked with the same black lines, although untamed and in a disarray this time, with the strands sticking to his forehead.

Although flushed, his face was the same, over all.

Everything seems to be right where they’re supposed to be.

Although he’s huffing and puffing, creating more mist to cloud the mirror with. And when he tried to reach for the glass, he realized that his fingers were still trembling. His blood still surging as if his body had never left the court.

Then, it struck him.

Bokuto holds his breath in anticipation, the truth of it right in front of him.

There’s no monster here.

No man possessed either.

Only a guy who’s helplessly, foolishly in love.

Announcing to an entire room of strangers that one is of the opinion that they're assholes, as it happened, was an effective way of making new friends.

Of course, there was that awkward day-long explanation that you had to do for Yuki and Kaori and the others. An affair that wasn’t too different from a one-woman press conference that involved you expressing your regrets, revealing that, sometimes, when backed against a wall, you can be an impulsive clown with a glaring lack of filter (like: "No, no..! I didn't think you guys were actually- you know- ass- it just spilled-" and "Ah, geez, this is embarrassing.The heat was getting to me. I didn't mean it, really!" )

But the girls had been kind enough to let bygones be bygones, assuring you that all they ever felt was a joyous combination of relief and wonder. Ubugawa's manager, Eri, (who'd shook your hand while holding back tears) even told you that seeing another girl in a veritable sausage fest that is the training camp was a miracle in itself.

"It was fun, actually," Mako once said when the two of you were assigned to carrot chopping duty. "You gave us something to talk about for a while."

And even when the novelty of being a bumpkin with the mouth of a sailor soon faded, the bond that quickly bloomed between you and the other managers hadn't.

It was unexpected, although not unwelcome.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself. How silly you'd been: coming into the city expecting a den of wolves and hunters armed to the teeth.

In the span of two days thoughts of survival were replaced by the confidence that your boys would pull through; by a sense of ease that you didn't need to win all the time and that this place is not a battlefield, but a fertile ground for growth and learning. You didn't need to constantly be on your guard— knuckles up and gearing for a fight, you realized.

Well —

For the most part, at least.

Serving spoon in one hand and potholder in another, you reluctantly paused from preparing your team’s meal to whisper under your breath. "He's doing it again," you hissed.

Kaori only gave you a preoccupied “hm?” as she plucked the ladle to fill the plain white ceramic bowls before her. “Who is?” she continued.

“Your captain,” you replied, taking care not to let him know that you're on the verge of melting under his not so subtle scrutiny.

The lovely Fukurodani manager didn’t even miss a beat; without lifting her eyes away from the food, she raised her voice, just loud enough, to address the creature (spying) standing idly by the door.

“Say, Bo-kun,” Kaori called out and you watched, amazed, as he coughed out the water that he’s been making a great show of drinking. “Your mama must not have taught you that it's bad to ogle.”

Bokuto Kotaro, Fukurodani’s ace and captain— a volleyball player that sits atop everybody else in this training camp, whose name is almost always followed by “one of the very best in the country”— quailed as his manager, the Great Kaori Suzumeda, blessed him with a smile veering on beatific.

“Oh-who-me?” he prattled, hands pointing at everything and nothing as he choked on his own words. “Didn’t see you there! What’s up! I was just passing by!”

“In the middle of practice?” Kaori snickered. “ You ?”

The boy released a laughter that resonated in the empty cafeteria.

She sighed, dropping the ladle, and told him to “Just go, Bokuto.” He obediently complied, thank the gods, but not without an overzealous goodbye to Kaori, as if he’d never see her again when lunch was just half an hour away.

He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t need to, anyway. The lingering gaze that he directed towards you was enough.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you made sure you’re no longer within his earshot, plopping your head against Kaori’s soft arm.

Her chuckle fluttered towards you, causing you to smile as she asked, “Is it that bad?”

You could only nod, both as an affirmation and an effort to shake those golden, hawk-eyes out of your system.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said after a few seconds of comfortable silence, the firmness in her voice making you stand upright and level with her.

Common decency tells you that you should say no, to stop her and tell her that she didn’t really have to; that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. But, you’d never really been one to listen to what that part of your brain dictates.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a light squeeze, incapable of doing anything else to convey your gratitude with a sob lodged in your throat.

“He’s not a bad guy, our Bokuto,” Kaori soothed. “And for what it’s worth, he’s never been like this with someone he likes.”

A grin lit up her face as you snorted, remembering the time someone had finally caught on to Bokuto’s newfound fixation. The uproar that it’d cause in the field when everyone was out enjoying slices of ripe watermelon. The unnecessary and, frankly, embarrassing anger that it’d pulled out of your boys after it's been revealed to the whole world. The infamous blush on Bokuto Kotaro’s face as he desperately tried to deny the accusation.

And the cold, spent feeling it left you.

“Normally, he’d be all over them,” she continued, mimicking his owl-like way of moving, bobbing her head to and fro as she circled around you.

“Kaori!” you squealed, pushing her playfully by the shoulder.

“Bokuto would be like—” Kaori pumped her fists in the air, “ Hey, hey, hey! Talk to me! Talk to me! Compliment me! Love me! ”

You simply hummed, folding your arms against your chest as you commended her spot-on performance.

She didn’t need to tell you all that, though. The guy had a personality so big it’s a miracle how this city contains him. And you’d known from the very beginning that Bokuto Kotaro doesn’t seem like the type to do the whole “pining from a distance” thing.

But, they even said that he’s half in love with you already, with the way he follows you with his eyes and flails and stutters and acts like he’s never had a mouth and a pair of hands before whenever he’s around you. And that, somehow, he plays even better than he already does when you’re in the audience ( especially when it’s against your team).

You don’t bother to correct them and say that no, this might not be a silly little crush.

Because you don’t think that anyone but you would understand that there can never be any love nor infatuation in a stare that traps you with its expectations. Even if you did tell them that, you’re the only one who knows what Bokuto’s gaze really makes you feel like: A plaything that he’s been gifted to and was told would sing and dance for him just so he’d stop crying.

And you know what temperamental children do with toys that don’t work the way they want it to, don’t you?

“Trust me.”

Kaori’s gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“He’s just an idiot,” she told you. “You’ve seen him— especially last week!” Kaori’s eyes bulged out, leaning closer to you, both of you gasping at the memory.

Tears sprung out of your eyes as you laughed harder, your stomach aching when Kaori began to recount the events that had turned the entire training camp on its head, forever planting itself in its history as the worst ordeal it’s ever faced:

A piece of the wall in the girls’ sleeping room broke off, revealing a large, Lovecraftian nest of cockroaches.

“If you’d only seen his face!” Kaori cackled, struggling to finish as she clutched onto you for support. “He burs- bursted into the room only for him to- to-”

“Pass out when a roach flew to his nose! I know !” you screeched and slapped the table with her, ignoring that you’re almost knocking over the food and chortling until you were close to having a heart attack.

“Oh- oh , I can’t breathe,” she groaned. Your laughter tapered off into heaving as you fixed her mussed bangs.

You smiled.

“See,” Kaori finally said, pinching your chin a little. “Bokuto’s a meathead. Just a meathead. Guy can’t get a clue. But he’ll come around once he realizes that he’s being weird.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, giving her a weak nod. "I'm sure he will."

You didn't know if you meant to say that with a hint of irony; if that scared farm girl is rearing her ugly head again and pointing a pitchfork at a monster of her own making.

A monster that, you're convinced, would do something more than just look once you're within its reach.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Bokuto even had it all figured out in his head. C’mon, he's got the looks, doesn't he? And he's not lacking in charm. In fact, he's oozing with it! That's why Bokuto had expected that he had this one in the bag. His game plan was foolproof:

Talk to the girl. Get the girl.

After that, you’d be together for the rest of your lives and your fiery, unrelenting support for that lousy team of yours would never go in vain ever again. Because it’d all be directed to him. All that “ Good job! ” and “ You were amazing back there! ” and “ Don’t be scared! I’ll be right here rooting for you! ” would finally be given to someone who actually deserves it.

All you had to do was see what he had to offer and baby— oh baby , how you'd love him. No force on Earth could have prevented Bokuto from making you his.

So it's all the more sobering now that Bokuto’s witnessed that the said force turned out to be him of all people. And what he could actually give you was a few stumbling lines and compliments that didn't even make any sense (“ Y-your face smells nice ” for example)— all (preferably) uttered a few feet away from you.

The others teased him for looking like a jilted witch casting a spell on an indifferent lover. “What are you? Speaking in tongues or something? Is the Great Horned Owl that desperate?” they poked at him. He didn’t mind them before, but now he’s not so sure.

" Tone it down, okay? " Kaori had reminded him again earlier this afternoon. That stern talking-to from their manager was an ice-cold bucket of water that doused what’s left of his optimism.

But, tone what down? What , exactly, is left to tone down?

He couldn’t even talk to you without losing his ability to string coherent words together, let alone get close to you. Eye contact, too, he’d deliberately restrained himself from doing (if only you knew how much this is hurting him!) and not just because he’d been deemed a complete and utter creep.

Bokuto couldn’t look you in the eye ever since that incident.

“ She’s helping the other girls carry their stuff to the other room, I saw them just now ,” Yamamoto had discreetly passed on as soon as he woke up from a terrible concussion. “And if you want to redeem yourself, my friend, after that humiliating performance, you’d better go out there and lend a hand. ”

Because Yamamoto, being the love expert that he proclaimed he was, told him, “ Look, I feel for you. But it’s simple. You just gotta show her what you’re made of. That you’re a man she can depend upon, ” Bokuto then persevered to follow through.

Only for him to be met by an empty room with bits of crumbled plaster scattered across the floor. And your bag in the furthest corner just...lying there.

Maybe you’d forgotten about it. Maybe you were too busy catering to your friends' needs that you'd forgotten about yourself.

Either way, Bokuto promises that it wasn’t on purpose.

Bokuto had good intentions, really! He just wanted to take the bag with him so he could give it to you, is all! It wasn’t his fault that some of your stuff was peeking through the half-opened zipper. It’d already been in that state when he saw it.

And- and it’s not his fault that he adores you too much.

Bokuto reminds himself as much as he propped his forehead against the bathroom wall, water from the shower pouring against the taut muscles on his back as he wrapped your underwear around his cock.

The baby pink fabric, every inch of it soiled now over the days that he's used it, rubbed against his balls when he began fondling them, his other hand caressing his nipples, rubbing and pinching at the peaks until they stiffened between his calloused fingers.

His cock grew hard and heavy in his hand as he started pumping into his fist, fucking your soaked panties until precum dripped from slit.

And with nobody else in the shower room, Bokuto allowed himself to grunt and curse and call out your name, digging his nails into his skin until it stung and made him want to cry.

"Make me cum, princess," he whined, shutting his eyes to watch you on your knees, fingers between your legs as you looked up at him, never taking your eyes off of him even as you took his cock down your throat.

"Please, please ," Bokuto groaned,"Please let me cum."

Here, you don't turn away nor brush him off without even saying anything. Here, you call him your baby and you chuckle as you ask him, " Good boys deserve to cum, don't they? "

He bit his lip, pressing his cheek against the freezing tile. "Mmhmm, I-I've been-" Bokuto moaned, feeling himself creep closer and closer, the pleasure at the pit of his stomach building, "I've been so fucking good for you."

The contrast of your pretty little underwear around the thick veins of his cock made his head spin. And as he squeezed his shaft tighter, Bokuto knew that he did, in fact, deserve so much more.

Because he's endured so much just for you. Now, it's time to get what he's due.

Scouring high and low for a pair of cotton panties that have seen better days wasn’t how you wished you’d celebrate the last night with your newfound friends.

Yuki had advised that you abandon the ratty, old thing (though you did say it wasn't; ratty, that is) and leave it here as a parting gift— a mark of your impact on their lives, if you will— but you’d quickly laughed her off and set out to find it. She was drunk, anyway.

Although, so were you. If not, then just a tiny, itsy, bitsy, bit tipsy.

You hiccuped, giggling as the sound echoed through the poorly-lit hallway. The world was spinning beneath you and you prayed that it wasn’t worse for poor Yuki, having chugged half of that horrid concoction.

Kaori almost threw her out of the window after that stunt. Mako scoffed at her for being an arrogant ass. The girls who weren’t drinking sat back and chose to enjoy the unfolding chaos (while also being kind enough to be on the lookout).

And you...well...right now you’re on the verge of breaking down as you make your way to the shower room.

Mostly because you’re just realizing that you might never see them again if your team doesn’t survive the Inter High. Partly because you’ve been dumb enough to not notice that you’ve been missing an underwear for a couple of days now.

God, it's so ridiculous. You're ridiculous. You're glad that you went on your own and rejected their offer to accompany you. Imagine if they saw you like this:

Oscillating between sobs and strained laughter while swaying on your feeble legs; the very picture of a lunatic out in the streets in the middle of the night.

You only hoped that you're not scaring the living daylights out of that guy who probably just went out of the boys' room to pee. Maybe you have already spooked him, with how still he's gotten.

Cupping your palms around your mouth, you saw fit to save his sanity and cried, "Heyyyy! I'm not- hic - a ghost!"

"Oh!" you gasped, raising a pointing finger to shush yourself, "Oh, yeah, sorry, shhh-"

He didn't run the other way screaming and crying, which was good, instead he approached you hurriedly, making you squint to get a better look at him.

"Koyama?" you whispered, struggling to recognize the tall boy with a sturdy build, his navy blue hoodie casting a shadow on his face. It didn't help that your eyes were doing something funny, as if they were busted camera lenses that went uncontrollably in and out of focus.

"Good evening, my dear! I daresay you're looking quite bur- burl- blurry tonight."

You cackled, immediately following your greeting with a slurred apology.

"Why- Why are you still- um- up?" he asked. And before you could volley him with a question pointing to his weirdly different voice, he brought his head down to sniff at you. "Wait- have you b- are you drunk ?"

"What! No! Of course not!" You pouted and airily slapped his cheek, drawing a lopsided grin out of you when his skin glowed pink, bright enough to light up the entire place. It was so remarkably adorable that it made you squeal and pinch both cheeks, rocking his face as you did.

"Look at our big boy!" A sheepish, almost disbelieving chuckle shook his large chest as you resumed your baby talk, your grabby hands bringing his face towards you. "Who would've thought that our stwong, wowdy ace could bwush wike so? And what's with this siwwy hoodie, huh? Where did you get this, bunnycakes? I've never seen you wear this before!"

You wondered, also, why and how his jet black hair turned pallidly gray over the few hours you hadn't seen him. You even brushed the mildly damp locks out of his forehead, unsure if they're even real as you tried to right your smudged vision.

And you wanted to blame it all on the alcohol.

It's the reason for that dramatic change in his tone and manner of speaking and hair color and...those eyes .

The very same pair that followed you everywhere, sometimes even in your sleep.

"You love me, after all," he breathed, the statement a thin sheet of glass that could blow into smithereens at just the wrong response.

That had been enough to drain the inebriation out of your body. Like being branded, you pulled away from Bokuto with a harsh curse.

"I- I have to go," you said. "Sorry, I thought you were Ko- my teammate."

But Bokuto had already laid hold of your arm with no intent of letting go.

"Stay!" Bokuto called out, repeating it with please and listen despite your outcries, shouting for Kaori and Yuki and Mako and Shigeru and Takami and Coach and Koyoma and anyone, help me, anyone.

Until he tugged you to his chest, wrapping himself around you and turning his entire body into a concrete prison as he fervently told you, "I love you. I love you so much ever since the first time I saw you and I know, I know you feel the same so if it's the distance that's keeping you from me I can come to you I'll follo-"

"Nothing's keeping me from jackshit!" you gritted out. "I don't love you! I don't even care about you!"

He didn't say anything to that.

Bokuto had gone quiet. It wasn't only until he nuzzled your neck, pressing his face snugly down the crook, that you decided to kick him with all your strength, breaking yourself free as your heart thundered out of your chest.

You didn't look back.

You dashed through the long, endless hallway with the air in your lungs dangerously running low and keeping you from screaming.

But the remnants of the alcohol were lead that weighed your feet to the ground, betraying you further by morphing your surroundings into a hazy, dizzying scape. You teetered and wobbled, desperate to reach that staircase that will lead you out of this floor, but each step that you took was not fast enough, not nimble enough, as if you’re wading through knee-deep water.

And before you know it the monster has caught up and is ready to pounce from right behind you.

“Get your hands off me!” you wailed as Bokuto heaved you by the waist and carried you over his shoulder.

The sudden upending of your world was so nauseating, you didn’t even notice that he’d already taken you to an almost pitch black classroom, its heavy curtains drawn together and the empty chairs and tables pushed to the side.

His large, sprawling hand was gripping your ass, your stomach lurching when you felt him caress it. Yet that didn’t deter you from hitting whichever part of him that your knuckles and feet could touch, ignoring the trail of your own spit that dripped on your face as you howled and thrashed and fought to keep yourself together because no one was hearing you.

What’s left for you, now? Your captor was so strong, much stronger than you, that even when he tripped on his toes, Bokuto was able to catch himself and drop you on the nearest table in just a single breath.

“Stop fighting me..!” he panted, holding you down as he knelt before you. “I’m not gonna hurt you! I- ow! Don’t-”

Bokuto’s grip on your wrists was unbudgeable. So, you didn’t miss the chance to bite him when he covered your mouth with his palm. Teeth chattering, you broke the tough flesh, sunk them sharply until the taste of salt and iron flooded your tongue.

You expected that it would push him away. Give you the leverage to escape.

That turned out to be a mistake.

His honey-gold eyes glinted as he stared deep into yours. Every hair on your body stood on end when the corners of his lips slowly lifted, eyes still fixed on you as he released a bubbly, childlike laughter.

“I've always wanted to do this to you," he sighed giddily.

The helplessness chipped at your insides bit by torturous bit when all you could do was rock the table with your flailing, while Bokuto had already crouched lower— low enough to pull the hem of your thin shorts with his teeth.

He watched you weep with a sickening display of dejection, like he's some dog that's been shoved around by his master.

"Please don't cry," Bokuto whined, peppering soft kisses all over the insides of your thighs then licking off the beads of sweat that covered the goosebumps.

You’re not giving up.

You couldn’t give up.

You pushed and gnawed and tore skin that you’re sure every inch of his palm is littered with fresh bruises, but this only seemed to encourage Bokuto, drawing out his drugged out moans as he spat on your clothed cunt, drool leaking down to your folds before he lapped at the wet spot. The moistened fabric scratched and rubbed against your clit to the point of quivering and writhing in his clutch.

“Oh, I know , baby,” Bokuto murmured, using the tip of his tongue to flick at the swollen nub. “I’ll make you feel real good soon.”

Shaking your head, the unwiped tears gathering around your eyelids dropped to his long, calloused fingers. And you wanted to screech, to tell him to go to hell as he swirled his tongue all over your embarrassingly slick hole.

No, you wanted more than that.

You wanted to drive your bare hands into his chest.

But that’s not what you did, is it?

When Bokuto finally removed his hand from your mouth, what slipped past your lips wasn’t the sound of a woman ready to kill. Instead, you sounded like a little girl begging to be carried home. And that hadn’t been the part that scared you, really.

It was the fact that no matter how much you tried to scream, nothing was coming out.

“L-let me go,” you wheezed, your voice cracking. “Or- or else.”

“Or else?” Bokuto replied, eliciting a gasp from you as he sniffed your throbbing, wet cunt. “Look at me, princess.”

“ Look at me ,” he repeated pleadingly, frustration giving his tone a rough edge, as he brought the hand that once suppressed your attempts to call for help to skim past your thigh and stroke the sole of your feet. “Just this once. See me.”

You kept your eyes closed, even as he kissed your toes and brought it down to his crotch, forcing you to dig your heel into the bulge jutting out. He rocked his hips, gyrating slowly, his cock hardening under your feet, as he whimpered into your leg.

“Please, please fuck me, please ,” Bokuto mewled. “I’ll do any- anything for you.”

Profanities rushed out of you, but no one could hear them. Not even you. Perhaps that's why he didn’t flinch when he lugged you down to straddle on his lap.

“Use me, baby,” he whispered, grinning wide as he snaked his other hand to your back and dug his nails around your nape, laying on his back and taking you with him as he did, your tits crushed to his chest.

With your arms dying in his grip, Bokuto easily stripped his pants along with his boxers. Violent trembles wracked your body as he dragged your pussy along his thick shaft, back and forth, your damp panties riding up every time he thrusted upwards.

His hot breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine as he giggled lowly, “Wanna cum inside you so fucking bad . Will you let me, hm? Please let me.”

Of course you didn’t want to. It’s not like you’d stop struggling, either. It’s just that Bokuto would never listen to you. Even when he whimpered and babbled, “You don’t want to- fuck, your pussy’s all nice and wet - oh, you don’t want to? That's okay, that’s okay, baby,” Bokuto still slipped his cock inside your underwear.

It slid past your lips up to your clit. And you’d never hated yourself more in your entire life when all you could do was stay limp and cry as the fat tip finally nudged your twitching hole.

“No, no, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck, “It’s just the head- just the head.”

As Bokuto groaned and rutted against you, all you wished for, in that moment, was for dawn to peek through the curtains and signal the end of this torment. But, still it went on with Bokuto stretching you open.

And as he split you in half, you detachedly realized that you were right.

This place did eat you alive.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere bokuto kotaro

352 notes · View notes

brakingpoint · 2 years ago

Note

let’s not beat around the bush id love a smash pass of the whole current grid

OKAY i've already answered a few but here's the entire grid in current championship order and YES i am going to include reserve drivers. putting this under a cut because good lord

max: have been through this - smash. he is not my normal type physically and yet i am deeply profoundly attracted to him. AND he has cats. win/win

checo: lol i forgot he was p2 now. anyway pass i'm sorry but he just does absolutely nothing for me

charles: well come on. obviously smash.

george: unfortunately we have also been through this and he is a regretful but simultaneously decisive smash

carlos: you see the thing about carlos is that he is objectively a very good looking man but in such a conventional way that it just registers as a net zero pussy response from me on all but a VERY select set of occasions. so pass :-/

lewis: SMASH. but also sort of a pass just out of like, the pressure of who has preceded me. i mean the man has slept with a pussycat doll and also probably rihanna i CANNOT win in this situation

lando: normally pass because if he was my type i'd just be posting about minecraft youtubers but i have to admit that one gifset going around of him looking flushed and sweaty after singapore did something absolutely outrageous to me. a 50/50

esteban: smash feels like the wrong word. there would be nothing violent about this interaction other than me changing position too fast and accidentally snapping every single one of his stick insect limbs perfectly in half

fernando: something about his face shape is just so deeply offputting to me and i cannot put it into words. i'm sorry. pass

valtteri: i have never seen a man's arse so many times and had literally zero erotic thoughts about it on any of those occasions. pass

seb: come on now i'm not a heathen. SMASH.

daniel: smash but i know it would be like deeply annoying sex. he'd be absolutely destroying me with his perfectly formed pussy eating nose and then he'd shout PIERRE GASLYYYYY as i orgasmed.

kmag: i feel nothing. pass.

lance: i am not attracted to him but everything about footage of him and his girlfriend together has me convinced that he must fuck like an absolute mountain rat. smash purely out of curiosity

mick: i genuinely cannot say smash because even though he's like. a perfectly respectable non-weird fuckable age for me as a 25 year old every time i see him i just think. That's A Little Baby Boy. pass

yuki: the thing is i don't really find him attractive 90% of the time (i have seen Some very compelling images on this front) BUT 1) short king recognises short king and 2) i feel like it would just be a hilarious experience this is a guy who knows how to make sex funny. maybe.

zhou: i'm contemplating. i've contemplated. smash.

alex: smash bc from his i feel like he would just be really fun and sweet in bed, like he's not gonna destroy you but you're still gonna remember it for how fun and charming the experience was. HOWEVER it could not be at the albon family home bc can you imagine the non stop racket of the collective albon pets trying to break in so horsey specifically can judge you

nicky: i feel like me saying smash is not SURPRISING but, my eternal nicky latifi fondness notwithstanding, this is another lance situation. what is it about the canadian pay drivers huh

nyck: short king recognises short king. smash.

hulk: again he just has too much aged-out frat boy energy for me so it's gotta be a pass

7 notes · View notes

folklorelise · 4 years ago

Text

Please don’t go out with someone else.

Synopsis: How did squad leader mom met the captain and how they got together.

MASTERLIST; ASK (request or anything else)

Your brother and Wylan, your childhood friend, always wanted to join the training corps. As you were only a year younger than them, you grew up with them constantly talking about joining the military – naturally, you wanted to join the military too. Your parents tried to talk the three of you out of this, but it was useless. Wylan always wanted to see what was outside the walls, therefore he knew he wanted to join the survey corps. Your brother tried to talk him out of this, but Wylan was stubborn.

When you finally reached the appropriate age to join the survey corps, you were beyond excited. Your brother and Wylan both waited another year so you could all join together.

“This is going to be so fun!” Wylan shouted the first day.

Out of the three of you, your brother was the best one – he was a great fighter, he was great with the gear and he was very obedient as well. Wylan was doing great – nothing exceptional but he could easily make into the top ten.

“At this rate, I’m sure the three of us will end up in the top ten and you know what that means?” your brother asked, “we could all move inside of wall Sina, and have a nice and peaceful life.”

“I don’t want to be part of the military police.” Wylan stated, “I’m joining the survey corps, no matter what happens.”

“Why would you do this?” your brother yelled. “Wylan, I didn’t want to bring this up but your parents –.”

“Yes, I know what happened to them.” Wylan argued. “I know they sacrificed themselves outside, they were both soldiers and having a kid was clearly a bad choice. That doesn’t mean I won’t join the survey corps too.” Wylan paused a second, “You think I’m stupid for wanting this.”

“No. It’s just that I want to grow old with you beside me.” your brother admitted. “And with you being in the survey corps, that won’t be possible.”

“I could visit –.” Wylan started.

“That won’t be possible because you might die outside!” your brother then looked at you, “you’re coming with me, right?”

“I might no be able to do that. None of us will if we’re not in the top ten.” you hesitated.

That night, before going to bed, Jesper, your brother, pulled you on the side so he could talk to you alone.

“Don’t mess up with tests tomorrow.” he told you.

“What?”

“I know you’re capable of doing the bare minimum, so you won’t have to choose. If you want to join the survey corps too, I…” he took a deep breath, “please take care of Wylan for me.”

“You could come with us.” you suggested. “You’re amazing, better than anyone else here, so why don’t you want to?”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to know what it feels like to be in front of a titan and knowing that they’ll eat me when I can be safe inside.” Jesper worried.

“Please go talk to Wylan, I don’t want you two to fight. You’re both choosing different paths and you know, it’s ok.”

“Yeah. I should apologise.”

“Also, I will try my best to keep him safe outside.”

“Thank you.” Jesper smiled before leaving.

Without surprise, Jesper ended up being ranked first while you were third and Wylan fourth. Amongst the top ten, there was only you and Wylan who did not choose the military police. Before leaving, Jesper came to see you both to tell you goodbye.

“I’m going to miss you.” Wylan told Jesper.

“I’m going to miss you too.” Jesper held Wylan’s hand tightly.

“Great,” you added smiling, “I mean, great to know I’ll be missed too.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” your brother smiled before hugging you.

“Yeah, anyway I’ll leave first because I feel like a third wheel here. I’ll see you later.”

When you finally arrived at the survey corps headquarters, you had a few hours to clean your clothes into your dorm before meeting everyone else on the training grounds to meet your future squad leader. You were beyond relieved when you found out Wylan and you were in the same squad because making friends was not your specialty.

“Hi, I’m Erwin. I’m your squad leader.”

“You’re really young.” you commented which resulted in Wylan punching you softly.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Wylan apologised.

“No, it’s fine. I worked hard for this post and I am proud of it.”

Later that day, you both met Hange.

“Really nice to meet you. I heard you two ranked top ten.” Hange said. “You won’t regret your choice, I’m sure it’ll be fun!”

“I’m Wylan, and this is Y/N.”

That night, you all drank and ate together – that is how you became friend with Hange, Mike, Erwin – your squad leader – and many other comrades.

Your first expedition took place a month after your arrival – it started great. There were only a few titans. Unfortunately, after a few days, it started to rain. At first, it was fine but when it turned out to be an enormous storm – it started to worry everyone.

The order was to stay close to each other so no one would get lost. When the storm finally calmed down – you looked around and noticed a lot of missing people.

“Where – Where’s Wylan?” you asked loudly.

“Y/N,” Erwin held you back, “he might be with another squad somewhere else.”

“No,” you mumbled panicked, “he – he was just behind me. He should be here too!”

You walked away and sat down somewhere calm, hoping for Wylan to show up. The remaining squads arrived one after the another, each one missing some of their soldiers.

“Y/N, the commander arrived,” Hange said quietly, “let’s go.”

The expedition just started which meant that it had to continue. A few hours passed, and as you followed Erwin on your horse you noticed a few bodies sitting under a tree on your left.

“Squad leader Erwin,” you hesitated, “look.” you pointed at where the bodies were.

Erwin and the rest of the squad run to them. You pushed them aside when you saw Wylan was one of the injured soldiers.

“Wylan!” you sobbed, “Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey.” Wylan choked, “I’m… glad… you’re alive.”

“You are too.” you cried.

“I’m sor–.”

“No, it’s ok, we’re going to be fine.” you tried to hold your tears back.

“Tell him… I love him…” Wylan took a deep breath, “ok?”

“Ok. I’m sure he knows and that he loves you very much too.”

“Good.” Wylan smiled weakly, “thank you… for coming back...”

You stayed with Wylan until he passed away – then, the soldiers’ bodies were all put in the cart and as the cart went back inside the walls, you had to continue.

When the expedition finally ended, you headed straight to Wylan dorm so you could clean his clothes and other belongings. You sent a letter to your family and Jesper so they could come for the funeral the survey corps organised for all the loses.

“I’m so sorry.” you cried when you saw Jesper again. “When I – he was…”

“It’s ok.” Jesper hugged you. “It’s ok.” he repeated.

Your parents brought flowers with them – in front of Wylan tomb, there were only the four of you.

“I’m going to bring his things.” you said, “can you guys help me?” you asked your parents so Jesper could have some privacy with Wylan.

You had put everything in a small bag, except for Wylan cloak which you decided to keep. Everything else was giving to Jesper. Before leaving, Jesper spent some time with you in your empty dorm.

“Did you… did he said anything before…”

“He told me to tell you that he loves you.” you whispered.

You both stayed together, in complete silence before he got up and had to leave. You reluctantly walked to the mess hall for dinner and sat with Hange. They smiled at you and you both ate in silence too – no one really wanted to talk.

Years went by and at the age of twenty-four, you became a squad leader. Hange had been promoted a few years before you – everything was going great. Then, one day, Erwin brought in three new recruits from the Underground. After commander Shadis put them in Flagon’s squad, you left with Hange et Erwin.

“What did you do?” you asked Erwin once you three were alone. “Why would you bring three thugs from the underground here?”

“They could be an asset to the survey corps. You should go and see them fight.”

“They have zero experience; they had no training. Just look at how disrespectful they are!”

“They are better than some of us at using the gear with no training.” Erwin corrected you.

“We’ll pay them a visit later.” Hange said.

“Great.” Erwin smiled before leaving.

“I don’t want to.” you told Hange.

“Oh, come on, please come with me!”

On their first day of training, you and Hange joined Flagon. You were all talking waiting for them to arrive, but after ten minutes of waiting, you volunteered to go and look for them. The first place you went for was the changing room with all the gear you used.

“You’re late.” you stated when you saw Isabel still with her gear undone.

“Sorry.”

“Well, hurry. Also, where are your two other friends?” you asked, “doesn’t matter, I’ll go look for them.”

“Wait.” Isabel stopped you, “This gear is a little different from what we used. I don’t know how to put it on correctly, no one told me.”

You turned around and slowly walked to her and explained to her how to put it on easily and quickly. When Isabel was done, you both walked out, and her friends were waiting for her outside.

“Next time try to be on time.” you told them when you walked out.

“Sorry miss.” Furlan apologised.

“It’s squad leader Y/N.” you corrected him harshly.

When you joined Flagon, he was fuming – screaming that they were irresponsible for making him wait that long and that they should just go back to where they came. When they started to kill the wooden titans, you were all speechless.

“Oh my!” you shouted impressed, “Erwin was right.”

“I wouldn’t have mind having them with me.” Hange stated impressed as well. “Flagon, you’re lucky as hell.”

Flagon ignored you and left to talk to them while you and Hange were talking about how good they were.

“Levi’s the most impressive right?” Hange said.

“Hell yeah!” you agreed. “Now I just want to see them in front of real titans. Act cool.” you told Hange when you saw them coming back.

“You were awesome!” Hange shouted, “Even more because you didn’t receive any training. Right Y/N.”

“You were great, yeah.” you commented calmly.

The next expedition was announced a few days later – it would take place in a month and half. Isabel and you became quite close since you were in charge of teaching them how to ride the horses – Flagon traded with you. While you would do his work, he will do some of your paperwork.

Furlan was polite and nice – he was making a lot of effort to blend in like Isabel. The only one who did not try was Levi. You tried to talk to him multiple times, but he would never answer you.

“Oh right,” you said before they would leave, “this weekend you’re allowed to leave the headquarters so you can visit family or just walk around the market. If you don’t want to leave, I can bring things for you if you’d like.”

“Can you bring back some of the cake you had last time?” Isabel asked referring to the cake your mom had baked.

“I’d like that too.” Furlan smiled.

“Sure, I’ll send a letter to my mom. What about you Levi?”

“Bring me some tea. And not the one you have here because it’s disgusting.” Levi said.

“Tea? Ok, I can do that.” you smiled, “you know it’s the first time you ever said anything to me.” you laughed before leaving.

You went back to your room to write your letter asking your mother to bake some cake and gather some tea leaves. While you were in your room, the trio went to their usual spot in the roof.

“I like Y/N,” Isabel started, “she’s nice.”

“Weirdly nice to us,” Levi said, “you didn’t tell her anything right?”

“I didn’t!”

“I don’t understand why she is that nice though.” Furlan added. “She didn’t seem to like us at first.”

“She changed her mind, she got to know us better –.” Isabel defended you.

“We’re leaving soon so it doesn’t matter.” Levi said.

Two years ago, your parents had the chance to move inside of wall Sina thanks to their business growing. You left Friday night to your parent’s house. Jesper was the one who came to take you home.

Saturday morning, Levi found it odd that you were with them – because you would always greet them in the morning. They did not know that you left earlier the day before. Hange and Erwin noticed how Levi was looking around and staring at every new person entering the mess hall.

“You should go and tell him that she’s not here.” Hange told Erwin.

“You go.” Erwin said.

“Fine.” Hange went to their table. “Hi. I noticed how you were looking for Y/N… I think.” Hange told Levi.

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh, then never mind.”

“But now that you’re here, where is she?” Levi asked.

“She went home last night. She’ll be back in three days. No need to worry.”

“I wasn’t.”

Levi hated himself for missing you – he tried to convince himself that he wanted to see you because you promised him tea, but deep down, he missed your calm and joyful presence. You had a lot of baskets full of food your mother prepared which meant your brother had to come and help with it.

“Where is there a short man glaring at me like that?” Jesper told when you left the carriage.

“What?” you asked him confused.

Jesper discreetly nodded towards Levi.

“I don’t know.” you said.

“Well, I’m leaving you here.” Jesper said going back into the carriage. “You’re good, right?”

“Yes, I’ll see you soon, bye!” you hugged him one last time before he left.

There were in total five big baskets of food – you tried to take them all at once for more efficiency, but it was a failure. Levi from behind took three of them seeing you struggling.

“Thank you.” you smiled, “we should just put them in my room.”

You walked in silence to your room and once Levi put everything on your desk – he started to leave but you stopped him by grabbing his sleeve.

“You forgot your tea.” you let go of his sleeve. “Oh, I also brought you this tea set, because the one we have here is really old.” you explained as you gave him an entire basket. “There’s also Furlan and Isabel’s food in there.”

“Thank you.” Levi whispered before leaving.

Two days after you came back, Levi stormed in your room at night as you were ready to go to bed. When Levi saw you in a simple tee shirt and some short, he immediately left your room. You slowly opened your door only to find Levi still outside of your room.

“Are you ok?” you asked worried.

“Yes.” Levi blushed slightly. “Your mother, I don’t know how she organised her tea. I need your help.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “let’s go then.” you closed your door.

“Are you not going to put on more clothes?” Levi asked you, “because it’s cold.”

When you noticed how Levi still would not look into your eyes, you decided it would be better to put on a long jacket.

You followed him to the kitchen, where he had prepared two cups and some water and every tea flavour your mother had packed.

“Each colour of bags represents a flavour,” you explained, “Mh, I thought she wrote on it which flavour it was, but I think with time she just stopped writing it – because she knew. What flavour you want to drink now?”

“You choose.”

“I like green tea, but it’s late in the night now so we should try something else. Like chamomile.” you thought.

Levi poured hot water into the teapot and you waited five minutes before pouring some into the cups. You sat in front of each other at the nearest table to the kitchen and drank in silence.

“Why are you staring at me?” Levi asked drinking his tea.

“I always like to look at pretty flowers and pretty things in general,” you said which made Levi raise his eyebrows, “that’s why I was staring at you.” you completed your sentence smiling.

Levi felt his cheeks getting hotter – he was speechless. No one ever before complimented him, ever so that was new. Meaning, he did not know how to answer.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, “you’re really red. Oh no, is it because of the tea?” you reached out your hands to touch his face. “Are you having a fever?” you worried.

“No, I’m fine.” Levi took your hands and put them on the table but did not let go of them. “Your hands are soft.” Levi said.

“Your hands are warm.” you smiled squeezing his hands softly.

You were both looking at each other when suddenly the door opened on Isabel and Furlan which made Levi back away from you.

“Oh, sorry.” Isabel said, “did we interrupt something?”

“No.” Levi said. “I’ll meet you in ten minutes.”

“Ok.” Furlan left with Isabel.

“You can go, I’ll clean this up.” Levi started to gather the cups and teapot.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Neither you nor Levi slept that night – it was not unusual for Levi, but for you it was. You could not stop thinking about what happened before Isabel and Furlan came in and neither could Levi.

After that, Levi would often make small talk with you when you were alone. He would often call you to drink tea with him before you went to bed. Then, a few days before their first expedition, Levi started to avoid you more and more which you did not find odd – it might be stress about the expedition. You were busy with your squad and paperwork. The day of the expedition, you went to see Levi because it had been a while.

“I’ll probably see you during the expedition though, but I wanted to see you before leaving. Good luck out there even though I know you don’t need it.”

Your squad was next to Hange’s and the expedition started. The few years after Wylan’s passing, every time it rained during an expedition you would start to panic and not be as useful as you would usually be. Surprisingly, the survey corps never experienced another storm during an expedition – it always happened before or after it. Therefore, when it started to rain heavily you started to be worried.

“Y/N,” Hange called you, “it’s ok.”

“Yeah.” you whispered, “no one walk away from me.” you ordered to your squad.

As the storm started, Hange’s squad and yours took shelter on high trees leaving your horses under you.

“Are you ok?” Hange asked you.

“Yes. It’s going to calm down soon, and it’ll be good.”

When the storm calmed down, Erwin’s squad passed on your way, so you joined them. After assuring him that no one was injured, you continued to ride on your horse. Erwin, Hange and you were leading the way, but very soon you stopped when you noticed all the blood on the ground.

“Wha – what happened?” you trembled. “Wh – who’s squad…” you got off your horse.

“That’s… the steam from the fallen titans.” Erwin said. “Are there any survivors out there?” Erwin yelled.

When you all approached the steam, you found Levi on his knees next to someone’s head which made you look away.

“Are you the only one left?” Erwin asked, “The corpses of these titans… you did this alone…?”

Levi stared at Erwin before tackling Erwin down of his horse. Mike, Hange and you took out your blades ready to defend Erwin, but he ordered us to stay back. Levi put his blade next to Erwin’s neck before speaking.

“Erwin, I’m going to kill you, you bastard. That’s why I’m here.”

Erwin showed Levi the envelope he kept on him and explained to him what happened.

“Why did you bring us into the corps?”

“Your military prowess…” Erwin started, “And to use you as partners to throw off Lovof…but now, it’s all over.”

Levi pushed on his blade, but Erwin stopped it with his hand.

“Who’s the one that killed my subordinates, your friends. Was it me? Was it you? Do you think that if you had come to attack me together that the two of them would have made it out alive?” Erwin asked, “No! It was the titans!”

Everyone else listened to Erwin’s speech including Levi.

“Fight with the survey corps Levi. Humanity needs your skill!”

The end of that expedition came sooner than you thought. You made sure that your squad members were doing ok then you went back to your room to clean up. You made sure to write a letter to your brother first so he would know that you were still alive and then you decided to go check on Levi.

“Levi?” you knocked on his door, but no one answered. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

For the next few days, Levi rarely went out of his room. Furlan and him were the only ones sleeping there – meaning no one could bother him. A week after the end of the expedition, Levi came to your room one night.

“Levi.” you put your book down.

“You said… I could talk to you.”

“Of course, you can.” you sat on your bed. “I’m sorry for your loss.” you added as you saw Levi pacing around your room.

“I can’t…I don’t know what to do.” Levi sat next to you. “Whenever someone knocks on my door, I keep hoping it would be one of them.”

“I know…” you paused, “after that, you’ll feel anger.” you hesitated, “Then comes the guilt, thinking what if I was quicker or what if I made a different choice… maybe I could’ve helped. After that, you’ll feel sad. Eventually, it won’t hurt as much as it used to, to talk about them. It’ll get better.”

“How do you know it will get better?”

“It is terrible, but this probably won’t be your last loss. And I –… I lost my best friend a long time ago. It was our first expedition too…”

Levi and you were lying on your bed in silence.

“I can’t sleep.” Levi admitted. “It’s getting lonely in that room.”

“I can stay with you if you want.” you yawned.

“Sorry, I’m keeping you from sleeping – I’ll go.” Levi stood up but you held his hand.

“You can stay here. I don’t mind.” you looked at Levi.

You moved on the inner side of your bed so Levi could lay next to you. Levi did not let go of your hand when he laid down on your bed.

“Goodnight Levi.” you said before falling asleep very quickly.

“Goodnight Y/N.” Levi whispered looking at you.

Levi found himself getting sleepier and when he closed his eyes – for the first time in a long time – he fell asleep without any difficulty. In the middle of the night, you woke up feeling thirsty and noticed that Levi was sleeping. He was still holding your hand which made it impossible for you to get up.

You always have a glass of water ready next to your bed, but you were on the wrong side of the bed. You got up and tried not to wake Levi up or letting go of his hand and drank your water. When you went back to bed, Levi finally let go of your hand and turned on his side – his back against you. You took a deep breath before wrapping your arms around Levi.

Levi was the first one to wake up. You were clinging tightly around Levi which made it impossible for him to move without waking you up.

“Mh, morning.” you mumbled when you woke up.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” you asked still holding onto Levi.

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“We could do this every night…” you said. “if you want, because…” your cheeks started to heat up.

“Yeah.” Levi breathed.

After a few minutes of staying in bed, you both got up and brushed your teeth and changed into new clothes. You arrived together in the mess hall and when you saw Levi going to eat alone, you held his shirt back.

“Come eat with us.” you pointed at your usual table with Hange, Mike and Erwin.

“No, it’s fine.”

“They don’t mind.” you looked at your friends, “right?”

“We don’t.” Erwin smiled.

You sat next to Levi and while he ate in silence, you were chatting with everyone. Your friends noticed how Levi and you became a lot closer since that day:

- Levi would often finish eating first, instead of leaving he waited for you to finish eating.

- You would always come in together in the morning.

- You would always leave together at night.

- According to Mike, Levi smelled like you – logic since he slept in your room with you.

“Are they together?” Hange once asked.

“They have to be.” Nanaba said. “Right?”

“Should we ask them?” Hange said.

“You ask them.” Mike suggested.

“No thanks. Oh, here they come,” Hange said, “act natural.”

Everyone suspected you two to be together, but neither Levi nor you said anything about it. Levi and you both had feelings for each other, but no one was brave enough to make the first step. You acted like a couple without really being one.

Two months after this, Jesper paid you a visit which made Levi confused. He did not know Jesper was your brother meaning he thought you were going on a date with someone. At night when you came back, Levi took you to your room.

“I like you.” Levi suddenly admitted. “Please don’t go out with someone else.”

“I – I like you too. A lot.” you smiled.

“So… who was that man?”

“Jesper? He’s my brother!”

“Oh.” Levi looked away embarrassed.

“So, are we a couple now?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

—————

Bonus about how people found out about it — Hange saw your two like this:

#attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #squad leader mom au #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #erwin smith #hange zoë #levi ackerman x you #attack on titan fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan #snk #aot

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